The Broken Paths

Xian Yue Rushing to the Gates

The night air was sharp with winter's bite, the cold cutting through her robes as Xian Yue pushed forward. Her breath curled in the wind, vanishing into the fog that clung to the mountain path. Each step was measured, light but quick, urgency pressing against her ribs like a dagger.

She had only one task: find Master Daokan.

Atlas had woken up. After more than a month—he had finally opened his eyes.

A miracle. Or a warning. She wasn't sure which.

Her mind raced as she moved. She had spent years at Shrouded Peak Sect, a silent observer in the grand schemes of those stronger than her. She had seen warriors rise and fall, seen victories turn to ruin, seen the weight of power warp even the most steadfast. She had seen what happened when fate refused to let a man rest.

And Atlas? He was no ordinary man.

Xian Yue had never spoken much to him, but she had listened. Observed. He was sharp, too sharp, weaving truths into lies and lies into truths so seamlessly that even the most perceptive struggled to unravel him. But in the end, it didn't matter how clever a man was if his body failed him.

And his body had failed him. It had broken, cracked under forces it was never meant to endure.

So why had he survived?

The thought unsettled her. Some people were not meant to return.

The towering gates of Shrouded Peak Sect loomed ahead, half-shrouded in mist. The guards stood at attention, their post unwavering despite the late hour. Before Xian Yue could call out—

She saw them. Master Daokan & his group

They emerged from the fog like phantoms, their presence weighted by the remnants of a battle fought in the shadows.

Master Daokan led them, his robes dark with blood—not his own, but that of Wu Long and the men who had followed him into hell. He moved with quiet purpose, the kind of stillness that only came after absolute violence.

At his side, Yan Shuren strode forward, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something quieter. A kind of exhaustion, perhaps. Or contemplation.

Guan Fei, the informant, said nothing. His hands were tense at his sides, his usual glibness stripped away by whatever horrors he had seen.

And then—the woman.

She moved like a ghost, her body present, but her soul absent. Her steps were light, hesitant—like she wasn't sure whether she was walking forward or backward. Her hands twitched at random, curling, uncurling, reaching for something unseen. Her face was expressionless—not calm, not composed. Just… empty.

Xian Yue had seen grief before. She had seen men shattered by war, women who had lost everything, children with no home left to return to.

But this? This was something beyond grief.

This was a woman who had nothing left to lose.

Xian Yue didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, her voice carrying through the cold.

"Master Daokan—Atlas has woken up."

The group stopped immediately. Yan Shuren let out a slow exhale, running a hand down his face.

"That idiot actually survived?"

Guan Fei muttered "Not sure if that's a good thing."

 Daokan said nothing at first. His gaze lifted to the night sky, calculating, weighing.

Then, after a long breath, he finally spoke.

"So the world refuses to let him rest."

Xian Yue hesitated. "Should I take that as a good thing?"

Daokan's eyes shifted back to her, unreadable. "It just means things are about to change."

He let the words settle before continuing, his tone quieter, almost thoughtful.

"A Qi power that absorbs and returns with the same or more force—but in a body unable to regulate Qi."

That was the truth of Atlas now.

A paradox. A weapon without a sheath. A force of nature without control.

Xian Yue frowned. "Then what happens now?"

Daokan didn't answer immediately. Instead, his attention flickered to the lifeless woman.

She didn't react. She just… waited.

After a long moment, Daokan turned forward, already walking. Yan Shuren fell into step beside him, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face. Guan Fei followed, though his usual swagger was absent—his mind still lingering on the horrors they had left behind.

Xian Yue walked a step ahead, her pace steady but urgent. "Physician Ming examined Atlas the moment he woke up," she began, keeping her tone crisp and professional.

"His physical state is… complicated."

Daokan arched a brow but said nothing, prompting her to continue.

"His body shows signs of prolonged atrophy, expected after a month in a coma, but what's concerning is how his Qi—or rather, his lack of it—has affected him. The energy absorption phenomenon hasn't stopped. It's slow, nearly imperceptible, but it's there."

Yan Shuren let out a low whistle. "So he's still pulling in Qi? Even unconscious?"

Xian Yue nodded. "Ming theorizes that his body doesn't just take in Qi—it has no choice but to. And without a natural flow of his own, it doesn't regulate what it absorbs. That's why he collapsed in the first place. His body was overloaded."

Daokan hummed, contemplative. "And now?"

Xian Yue exhaled. "He's awake. But for how long? And at what cost?"

The weight of her words lingered as the doors to the infirmary came into view. Daokan exhaled, his gaze distant, then finally spoke.

"If Atlas has been absorbing Qi unknowingly for years, then his body should have adjusted—slowly, subtly. But the abrupt collapse after fighting Shen Xue… that suggests something changed."

Yan Shuren, rubbing his chin, added, "Maybe it's not just about accumulation. Maybe the fight triggered something—like forcing open a door that was barely cracked. If he's been taking in Qi his whole life without realizing, then suddenly being flooded with it at once? No wonder he broke. More importantly, if Ming is right, his absorption is so little that even bypasses Master and my eyes?"

He crossed his arms. "Two possibilities. One—Ming is right, and this is something deeply complex, a condition far beyond simple Qi imbalance, absorption and deflection. Or two—Ming is wrong, and this power didn't exist before. It just manifested."

Daokan considered this, nodding slightly. "So the question is, has this been a slow-building storm… or a sudden catastrophe?"

As they reached the door to Atlas' room, Ren stepped forward, gripping the handle. The moment the door swung open—

Chaos awaited them.

Shen Xue was on top of Atlas. It looked exactly like a misunderstanding.

Yan Shuren blinked. "...Huh."

Daokan's expression remained unreadable for all of two seconds before he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"I leave him for three days, and now he's doing things with my daughter?"

Physician Ming, standing near the bedside, let out a long, suffering sigh.

"Before you start jumping to conclusions—Atlas rose up in a panic, disoriented from his coma. Lady Shen was trying to keep him from flailing and reopening his wounds."

Atlas, still pinned beneath Shen Xue, groaned. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."

Shen Xue's eye twitched. "I can make your injuries worse."

Yan Shuren, barely holding in laughter, leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, please do."

Shen Xue shot him a glare before turning back to Atlas, who had the audacity to smirk despite his obvious weakness. "You were thrashing like a dying fish" she said flatly.

"I was restraining you so you wouldn't tear your stitches."

Atlas, still pinned, raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Shen Xue exhaled sharply, pressing her forearm against his chest just enough to make her point.

"Say that again and see what happens."

Physician Ming cleared his throat, weary from years of dealing with stubborn warriors.

"He was having a violent reaction to waking up after so long. His body went into shock, his muscles locked, and he almost dislocated his own shoulder. Lady Shen intervened before he did any real damage."

Yan Shuren chuckled. "So, she saved him and now looks like she's attacking him. Classic."

Daokan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I did not train my daughter for years so she could wrestle a half-dead merchant in a sickbed."

Atlas grinned up at Shen Xue. "Well, I wouldn't call it wrestling. I'm too weak to fight back, so it's more of a very aggressive act of care."

Shen Xue looked like she was genuinely considering smothering him with a pillow.

Before she could decide, a voice—toneless and distant—cut through the room.

"What… is going on here?"

All eyes turned toward the doorway, where the lifeless woman stood. Her gaze swept across the scene—Atlas pinned beneath Shen Xue, Daokan rubbing his face and Yan Shuren biting back laughter—with the detached observation of someone who had long stopped expecting to understand the world around her.

Then, with the same hollow tone, she turned her empty gaze to Daokan. "Where is the child?"

Daokan's expression softened—just slightly. He stepped aside, revealing Lianhua, sitting quietly by Atlas' bedside. The little girl had been watching everything in silence, her small hands curled around the edge of Atlas' blanket. Her dark eyes, wide but unreadable, flickered toward the woman.

The lifeless woman studied her—taking in the thin frame, the carefully blank expression, the way her tiny shoulders remained stiff, braced for something unseen.

After a long pause, she murmured "She looks… like I did."

Lianhua did not react. She only blinked, staring back, waiting—perhaps for judgment, perhaps for something neither of them had the words to name.

And then—Atlas, in true form, shattered the moment.

"So, uh… should I be worried? Because this feels like one of those 'I adopt a kid without realizing' situations."

Shen Xue, finally pushing herself off him, shot him a deadpan look. "You should worry about surviving the week first."

Yan Shuren smirked. "And here I thought you were already planning fatherhood. How responsible of you."