Lin Huang woke up feeling as though someone had driven iron spikes through his skull. Without thinking, his hands flew to his temples, fingers pressing hard against the pounding ache.
But his mind was elsewhere entirely. "The world around us is made of atoms... What are atoms?"
Unknown to him as soon as he uttered those words, the sky above the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo darkened without warning, as if storm clouds had gathered from nothing. Lin Huang's headache surged with each pulse of thunder, and for a wild moment it felt as though heaven itself was rejecting his thoughts—denying him this forbidden knowledge.
Each time he tried to think deeper, the pain flared like white fire behind his eyes.
Finally, he was forced to abandon the pursuit. "I'll ask Master for clarification when I have the chance," he decided, rubbing his brow.
But his thoughts kept circling back, drawn like iron filings to a lodestone. What he had learned was too vast, too novel—a concept that his very soul seemed to resist understanding.
In desperation, he closed his eyes and began to meditate, drawing atmospheric qi toward his meridians as he had countless times before.
He expected failure. After all, his meridians were completely blocked, shriveled pathways that couldn't hold even a wisp of spiritual energy.
But the next moment, his eyes flew open in shock.
His meridians—those same channels that couldn't accommodate even a strand of qi—had loosened. Not much, but enough. The qi flowed in without resistance, settling into spaces that had been sealed for months.
"How is this possible?"
The words burst from him before he could stop them. He knew his injuries intimately, had mapped every blocked pathway and severed connection. Recovery should have been impossible.
Yet here he sat, undeniably healed although not completely.
Confused, Lin Huang conducted a thorough examination and realized something even more startling. His control over atmospheric qi had increased considerably. Not just that—even his mastery over the Great Sun Breathing Technique seemed to have grown by leaps and bounds.
But how could this be?
The Great Sun Breathing Technique was one of the most important training methods left behind by his family. Lin Huang had long since mastered it completely—any further progress should have been impossible without improving the technique itself.
Wait a moment... Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, his eyes lit up with understanding.
Seized by inspiration, he sat cross-legged once more and began drawing in atmospheric qi. This time, however, he didn't focus on the qi itself but rather on the operation of his technique.
Breathing in... breathing out...
With every breath, a strand of atmospheric qi was drawn inward. Just as it was about to disperse upon encountering the old blockages, his shriveled meridians contracted and expanded, making room for the qi's movement like channels carved anew.
Now that he was examining it seriously, Lin Huang didn't miss the truth. His technique had unexpectedly made a qualitative improvement. But how?
Maybe he had been too lost in thought, or maybe something else entirely, but suddenly the ordinary book from the library appeared crystal-clear in his mind's eye.
As if learning about atoms had filled a gap that was previously empty, leading to this qualitative breakthrough.
The alley housing the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass comfortably. The dojo sat at the junction of three such alleys, with a tavern some distance away where warriors often came to drink away their sorrows.
At a corner table, a man dressed in a drunkard's tattered robes peered through the tavern window, his eyes sharp despite his disheveled appearance.
"It is undoubtedly this place," he muttered, satisfaction coloring his voice.
"I'll have to rush back quickly and inform the vice leader."
He tossed a few coins on the table and shuffled out, pulling a wide-brimmed straw hat low over his face. The tavern owner barely glanced up, too busy serving other customers to care about one more drunk leaving.
The straw hat figure moved carefully through the twisting streets, constantly checking over his shoulder to ensure no one followed. Without realizing it, he had entered the shadow of a narrow alley when the sound of something clattering behind him made him freeze.
Instinctively, he spun around and shouted, "Who is it?"
There was no one there—only a stray cat that had knocked over an earthen bowl. Passersby, drawn by his outburst, stared at him with questioning looks, wondering if he'd lost his mind.
The spy scanned the crowd, every sense now razor-sharp and alert. There was no way he could be wrong—someone had definitely been following him. He had worked as a spy for decades, and his sharp senses had saved him from death countless times. Yet this time, someone had managed to get so close without him realizing. The fact that this mysterious expert could approach undetected and then vanish meant they were far stronger than he could handle.
The thought terrified him.
His steps became hurried, almost frantic, and within moments he had disappeared from the alleys.
But how could Wang Chen allow such a man to escape? He followed silently, like a ghost drifting through shadows.
He was ninety percent certain this man was a spy from the Blood Fang Gang. If he let him escape, endless trouble would follow.
Just as he considered killing the man outright, he remembered his new skill.
Without hesitation, he silently cast Doomclock and decided to wait—let the spy lead him straight to the Blood Fang Gang's hideout.
The spy didn't head directly to his destination, as any good operative would. Instead, he took several detours, weaving through side streets and doubling back on his path.
Wang Chen frowned at this behavior. After all, what was the need for such caution? The Blood Fang Gang was a major power in the city—what did they have to fear?
Wang Chen was correct in his reasoning, but he had forgotten one crucial detail: there wasn't just one such entity in the city. Three other gangs also vied for control.
After moving cautiously and throwing several feints, the spy finally stopped and vanished into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.