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Bound Before Breath

fratco
28
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 28 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Eli Mercer was bound before breath. Born into a four-member cultivator family in rural Georgia, he was sealed into a grind loop before he could speak. No clan. No sect. Just posture, breath, and silence. While the world moved forward, Eli sat still—refining his qi, aligning his meridians, and mastering the invisible. At age five, he saw basketball for the first time. He didn’t abandon cultivation. He completed it. By thirteen, he was dominating AAU circuits. By fifteen, he was signed to a pro team overseas. At sixteen, the NBA drafted him—top three. But Eli never chased fame. He never spoke for attention. He simply evolved. Now, the world watches a point guard who moves like flowing qi, sees like a cultivator, and leads without words. Every possession is a trial. Every game is a breakthrough. And every breath he takes rewrites the system. This is not a story about basketball. This is not a story about cultivation. This is the story of Eli Mercer. And we do not guide him. We only narrate.
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Chapter 1 - Prologue: Bound Before Breath

Ashridge Compound – Georgia, USA – 1999

The room was dim. No cries. No cheers. Just incense smoke rising in spirals.

A newborn lay swaddled in white cloth, eyes closed, chest rising in shallow rhythm. Around him, four figures stood—father, mother, older sister, and the silent child.

The father spoke first.

"Three breaths. If he aligns, he is bound."

A bell rang once.

The child inhaled. The incense curled into his nostrils. His meridians pulsed faintly.

"First breath—root alignment."

A faint glow traced his spine. No one reacted.

Second breath. His fingers twitched. The air thickened.

"Second breath—spirit resonance."

The glow spread to his limbs. The mother adjusted the scroll.

Third breath. His chest expanded, then stilled.

"Third breath—legacy imprint."

The bell rang twice.

He was bound.

Age 1 – Posture Protocol

He sat cross-legged on a woven mat. No toys. No sounds. Just a clay bowl of water and a flickering candle.

Every morning, he was placed in the same position. Every evening, he was measured.

"Spine tilt: 2 degrees off center."

"Breath cycle: 7.2 seconds. Adjust to 6.8."

He did not speak. He did not cry. He simply endured.

Age 2 – Breath Control

He was taught to inhale through the left nostril, exhale through the right.

To hold breath during thunder.

To release breath during silence.

"Breath is the first possession. Master it, or be mastered."

He did not understand. He complied.

Age 3 – Kneeling Ritual

He knelt before the ancestral wall. His forehead touched the floor.

Behind him, his sister chanted.

Before him, the wall remained blank.

"He will not be named until he earns breath."

That night, he dreamed of movement. Not cultivation. Not ritual. Just motion.

A ball bouncing. A court shining. A crowd roaring.

He did not know what it meant. But he remembered.

Age 5 – First Game

The compound's television flickered. An NBA game played.

He watched in silence.

A point guard dribbled behind his back, spun, passed without looking.

The crowd erupted. The player smiled.

The boy leaned forward. His breath shifted. His meridians pulsed.

"What is this?" he whispered.

No one answered.

But the grind loop had changed.