"Your advancement has been... unusual."
Liu Tiansheng stood across from his third son in the family's private training ground, Core Formation pressure deliberately leaked to test the boy's resolve. The morning sun cast long shadows between them.
Zǔ Zhòu maintained a neutral expression while internally calculating responses. Three days since discovering the comprehension lock. Three days of refining his approach to appear naturally gifted rather than impossibly knowledgeable.
"The deviation provided unexpected insights, Father." He kept his tone respectful with just enough of Liu Wei's characteristic sullenness. "I feel like I understand cultivation differently now."
"Show me."
A simple command that carried layers of threat. Liu Tiansheng had built the family's power through strength and paranoia in equal measure. A son advancing from Third to Sixth Stage in days warranted investigation.
Zǔ Zhòu moved through the basic forms of the Liu family's Raging Tiger Style. The technique set was laughably primitive by his standards—a mortal realm adaptation of the Celestial Beast methods. But the comprehension lock meant he couldn't simply demonstrate perfected forms.
Instead, he had to calculate imperfection.
First form: Pouncing Tiger. His body knew the optimal angle should be 47.3 degrees, but Liu Wei would have used 35 degrees. He split the difference—41 degrees. Better, but not impossibly so.
"Your stance has improved," his father noted, circling like a predator. "Continue."
Second form: Tiger Breaks the Tree. The power should spiral through seven meridian points. Liu Wei knew four. Zǔ Zhòu displayed five—a believable advancement.
Each movement required constant calculation. Too perfect and his father would know something was wrong. Too flawed and he'd seem to be regressing. The comprehension lock made this harder—he couldn't simply execute a flawed version of perfection. He had to build imperfection from the ground up.
"Stop." Liu Tiansheng's command cracked like a whip. "Your third movement. Perform it again."
Zǔ Zhòu had made an error—his killing intent had leaked through during Tiger Devours Prey. Just a whisper of the cosmic hunger that had once consumed realities, but to a Core Formation cultivator, it must have felt like staring into an abyss.
He repeated the form, this time burying his intent under layers of teenaged frustration and ambition. Normal emotions for a young cultivator pushing boundaries.
"Interesting." His father's eyes narrowed. "Your killing intent has matured. Have you been practicing on more than training dummies?"
A test. Liu Tiansheng suspected something.
"The servants," Zǔ Zhòu admitted with calculated shame. "During the deviation, I... lost control. Some were injured. Hong can confirm."
His father's expression shifted to disappointment rather than suspicion. Servants were replaceable, but lack of control was a weakness. "Deviation explains the intensity, but not the quality. Your killing intent felt almost... ancient."
"I experienced strange visions during the deviation," Zǔ Zhòu lied smoothly. "Past lives, perhaps? Memories of battles I never fought. They've affected my understanding."
"Hmm." Liu Tiansheng gestured to the weapons rack. "Armed forms. Let's see if your sword work has similarly improved."
This was worse. The comprehension lock was absolute about weapons. He knew ten thousand sword techniques, could describe every minute detail, but his body had never held a blade with intent to kill divinity.
He selected a training sword, testing its weight. His mind screamed corrections—grip angle wrong, balance point suboptimal, edge alignment would reduce cutting efficiency by 23%. But his hands could only fumble toward improvement, not achieve it.
"Begin with Flowing River Cuts Mountain."
A basic technique. Zǔ Zhòu moved through it mechanically, allowing obvious flaws. His father watched with growing confusion.
"Your empty-hand work improved dramatically, but your sword work remains mediocre. Explain."
"I... don't know, Father." Truth hidden in admission of ignorance. "The visions didn't include weapons. Only understanding of body and qi."
"Peculiar." Liu Tiansheng took a sword himself. "Defend."
The attack came at quarter speed—a teacher's probe, not a killer's strike. But to Zǔ Zhòu's perception, it might as well have been standing still. He saw seventeen ways to counter, forty-three methods to turn defense into lethal offense, and one perfect angle to bisect his father from crown to groin.
The comprehension lock allowed none of them.
Instead, he clumsily raised his blade, managing a basic block that jarred his wrists. His father's following strikes pushed him back, each revealing the gulf between knowledge and ability.
"Enough." Liu Tiansheng lowered his weapon. "Your advancement is uneven. Exceptional progress in some areas, stagnation in others. This suggests natural breakthrough rather than... alternative methods."
Meaning: you're probably not possessed by a demon or ancient ghost. Probably.
"Focus on consolidating your gains," his father continued. "Uneven advancement creates weaknesses. Elder Feng will design a specialized regime to balance your development."
"Yes, Father."
"And Wei'er?" Liu Tiansheng's voice carried an edge. "If you experience any more 'visions,' inform me immediately. Some deviations leave lasting effects. We have methods to... cleanse such influences."
The threat was clear. Too much unusual behavior would result in soul examination, possibly exorcism. The Liu family hadn't survived by ignoring possession risks.
"I understand, Father. The visions have faded. Only improved comprehension remains."
"See that it stays that way."
After dismissal, Zǔ Zhòu found his temporal anchor servant waiting in his chambers.
"How did the parameters hold?"
"Frustratingly well." Zǔ Zhòu massaged his wrists, still aching from the clumsy sword work. "The lock scales with scrutiny. Under observation, I couldn't even achieve the 10% efficiency I manage alone."
"Performance anxiety?"
"Reality anxiety. The lock tightens when actions might reveal impossibility." He sat in meditation position. "It's not just preventing me from using advanced techniques. It's actively maintaining plausibility."
This was a new understanding. The comprehension lock didn't just limit his power—it protected causality itself. Under his father's observation, reality had strengthened its restrictions to prevent paradox.
"Adaptive suppression," he mused. "The more impossible the action relative to observer expectations, the stronger the lock. Alone, I can push boundaries. Under scrutiny, I'm forced to be merely talented."
"Then privacy becomes a resource."
"Yes. And reputation becomes camouflage. If they expect steady improvement rather than instant mastery, the lock loosens proportionally."
He spent the afternoon documenting this new parameter:
Observer Effect on Comprehension Lock:
Solo Practice: 10-15% efficiency possibleCasual Observation: 5-8% efficiencyActive Scrutiny: 1-3% efficiencyHostile Investigation: Near-total suppression
"The lock isn't just internal," he concluded. "It's a function of consensus reality. The more witnesses to impossibility, the more reality resists."
This would shape his entire approach. Public mediocrity, private excellence. Let them see the struggling genius while the true monster grew in shadows.
"Father suspects something," the anchor servant noted.
"Father suspects everything. It's why he's survived to Core Formation." Zǔ Zhòu smiled coldly. "But suspicion isn't knowledge. As long as I remain plausibly his disappointing son, the lock itself will help maintain my cover."
The comprehension lock had revealed another facet—not just limitation but protection. It would force him to grow slowly in public view while allowing rapid advancement in private.
A prison that doubled as camouflage.
"How unexpectedly helpful," he said. "I'm starting to appreciate reality's sense of irony."