For the next three weeks, the back courtyard of the Seventh Pavilion became a place of quiet, brutal transformation. Woa spent every waking hour pushing his thirteen-year-old body to the brink, guided by the golden prompts of the Dao Machine.
'Move left. Pivot. Strike,' Woa thought, his muscles screaming in protest. 'Again.'
But as the days passed, the cold, clinical nature of the voice in his head began to grate on him. To a boy who had only known the warmth of Seol-Ah's kindness, the Machine felt like a block of ice.
"Hey," Woa whispered one night, sitting on the porch and staring at the moon. "Why do you talk like that?"
[Query unclear. Please specify.]
"You speak... weirdly," Woa muttered, hugging his knees. "No 'please,' no 'hello.' You just say 'Target Lock' or 'Biological Hazard.' Don't you have a heart? Or a soul? Where is your humanity? Even the coldest elders in the Cult laugh sometimes."
[I am the Dao Machine. I am the manifestation of Logic and Universal Law. Humanity is a biological limitation involving emotional chemical spikes. My purpose is your survival, not your companionship.]
'A biological limitation?' Woa felt a chill. 'It's like talking to a stone that knows how to kill.' "Well, try to be a bit more... nice? I'm still a person, you know."
[Directive noted. Processing "Niceness" protocols... Warning: This will not increase combat efficiency.]
Later that night, Woa found Seol-Ah mending his torn training robes by a flickering candle. He looked at her small, tired hands and remembered how the Fourth Prince's lackeys had once torn her apron just to see her cry.
"Seol-Ah," Woa said firmly. "When the Academy opens in ten days, you're coming with me."
Seol-Ah dropped her needle, her eyes wide. "Young Lord? The Academy is for the bloodline and the high-ranking disciples. I am just a maid. I'm not even allowed to step past the Black Gate."
"You'll come as my personal attendant," Woa insisted, stepping closer. "And you're going to learn martial arts. I'll make sure of it."
"I can't!" she whispered, her voice trembling. "The instructors will beat me for even looking at a manual. I should stay here and keep the pavilion clean for when you return—"
"No!" Woa grabbed her hands. 'If I leave her here, they'll break her just to get to me,' he thought fiercely. "If I'm going to become the Supreme Martial Artist, I need someone I can trust at my back. That's you. I won't let you stay here to be bullied while I'm away. You're coming, and that's final."
Seol-Ah looked at him, startled by the sheer authority in his voice.
"I... I understand, Young Lord," she said softly, a small, brave smile touching her lips. "I will stay by your side."
On the final day before the Academy, Woa stood in the center of the courtyard.
[Host has reached the limit of physical conditioning for current Age/Tier.]
[Integrating 'Phantom Flicker' Footwork into muscle memory: 100%]
[Recommendation: To advance further, Host must open his Qi Sea. Would you like the 'Nice' version of this warning?]
Woa blinked. 'The nice version?'
[Host, it would be "very lovely" if you stopped being a weakling. Please prepare for extreme agony as I forcibly pierce your blocked meridians. Have a wonderful day.]
Woa stared into the air. '...I think I preferred the cold version.'
Suddenly, a searing heat erupted in his lower abdomen. It felt like a molten spear was being driven through his gut. Woa collapsed, his silent scream echoing in the empty courtyard as the Dao Machine began to shatter the poison seals that had kept him weak since birth.
[Beginning Qi Awakening. Welcome to the path of the Demonic Cult, Young Lord.]