The Quantum Path to Immortality-Chapter 211 - 210: The Aftermath - Across the City

Chapter 211: Chapter 210: The Aftermath - Across the City

In the marketplace:

Merchant Liam stumbled backward, gasping for air that was suddenly there again. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Did you—did you FEEL that?!" he shouted at the nearest person.

"What was THAT?!" someone screamed.

"The world went dark! I swear the world went DARK!"

"You felt it too?! I thought I was dying!"

"My Nexis—it tried to leave my body—what kind of technique does that?!"

A crowd was forming, everyone talking at once, voices rising in panic.

"The sun disappeared!"

"Don’t be stupid, the sun didn’t—"

"Then explain what just happened!"

"I felt cold. So cold. Like death itself—"

"Did everyone feel it?"

A chorus of "yes" rippled through the marketplace.

At the bakery:

Baker Conry clutched the counter, her knuckles white. Her assistant stared at her with huge, terrified eyes.

"Mistress... what was that?"

"I don’t know." Baker Conry’s voice shook. "But something terrible just happened. Something..." She looked toward the center of the city. "...something that shouldn’t be possible."

At the city gates:

Guardsman Wu leaned against the wall, breathing hard. The other guards looked equally shaken.

"Did everyone feel that?" His voice came out rough.

Nods all around.

"My cultivation nearly broke," another guard whispered. "What kind of technique could do that? What kind of cultivator could do that?"

"You don’t think..." Wu’s face went pale. "After yesterday’s battle... could there be some kind of curse on the city?"

In the marketplace - panic spreading:

"First those two Tier 4 cultivators nearly destroy our city yesterday—"

"—mountains evaporated, dimensional cracks in the sky—"

"—and now THIS? This ominous feeling?"

"What if Redwood City is cursed?!"

"My grandmother always said bad things come in threes—"

"We should report this to the City Lord!"

"Report WHAT? That we all felt weird for a moment?"

"It wasn’t just weird! The world went BLACK! Everything went DARK!"

"You’re being dramatic—"

"I SAW it! Everything went dark! The sun was just gone!"

"The sun didn’t disappear, you fool—"

"Then explain why I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face!"

"It was probably just a cloud—"

"A cloud doesn’t make you feel like your soul is being ripped out!"

More people were gathering now, voices overlapping.

"Did anyone else feel that pulling sensation?"

"Yes! Like something was trying to take my energy!"

"My cultivation base went crazy—"

"I’m not even a cultivator and I felt it!"

"What if it happens again?"

"Should we evacuate?"

"Evacuate to WHERE? We don’t even know what caused it!"

At the Chen house:

Mother burst out the back door, her face pale. "CHEN WEI! Did you feel that?!"

Father opened his eyes slowly. Everything looked... normal.

The grass was maybe slightly paler than before. The air felt thin somehow. But nothing dramatic. Nothing obviously wrong.

"Feel what?" he asked, confused.

"The darkness! The pulling! Like something tried to—" Mother stopped, looking around. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping again. Everything seemed completely fine.

"Did I... imagine it?" she whispered.

Father stood up slowly, his legs shaky. "I felt... something. For just a moment. Like..." He couldn’t find words for it. "Like something vast and hungry woke up for a moment, then went back to sleep."

They both turned to look at Kai.

Their five-year-old son sat in perfect meditation pose, looking completely innocent. Peaceful. Like nothing unusual had happened at all.

Surely... surely their child couldn’t have caused what the entire city just experienced.

Could he?

Kai’s Internal Panic

[WHAT WAS THAT?!] Kai’s thought was basically a mental scream.

[Primordial Universe Void Scripture Stage 1 execution. Energy absorption rate exceeded safe parameters.]

[Host created localized energy vacuum across entire city radius for 0.1 seconds.]

[Recommendation: DO NOT cultivate this technique in populated areas.]

NO KIDDING! I nearly killed everyone in the city!

[Correction: Host would not have killed anyone. Would only have drained their energy, caused cultivation base damage, souls fractured, meridians damaged, possibly induced comas in weaker individuals, and created mass panic.]

THAT’S NOT BETTER, HOW IS THAT DIFFERENT FROM DEATH!

[Also: City-wide blackout may have been noticed. Suggest believable explanation.]

Like what?! "Sorry everyone, I accidentally became a black hole"?!

[Perhaps: Say nothing. If questioned, claim ignorance.]

Kai very carefully opened his eyes and looked at his parents with the most innocent five-year-old expression he could manage.

"Did something happen?"

"No, lets get back to training shall we?"

Kai went back to circulating the Basic Circulation Scripture.

His 37 trillion cellular Dantians noticed the incoming energy and perked up like hungry puppies seeing a treat.

No, Kai told them firmly. You don’t get to eat everything. This is normal cultivation. Gentle. Slow.

The cells grudgingly accepted the tiny thread of energy like a dragon being offered a single grain of rice instead of a feast.

It felt weird. Like eating one noodle when you had a whole bowl in front of you. Inefficient and frustrating.

But normal. He had to act normal.

"Good!" Dad said encouragingly. "I can see your breathing is staying steady. Keep practicing exactly like that."

Kai kept up the practice, drawing in pathetically small amounts of Nexis while his void physique complained about the inefficiency.

I know, I know, he thought at his cells. Later. When we’re alone, you can eat properly.

[Noted. Host is learning patience.]

I’m five. Patience is hard.

After another twenty minutes of gentle Nexis breathing, Dad called for a break.

"Excellent work, both of you! Kai, you’re progressing faster than anyone I’ve ever heard of. Yue, you’re maintaining the breathing pattern perfectly—that’s the foundation for eventual sensing."

Yue looked frustrated. "I didn’t feel anything."

"That’s normal! Completely normal! You’re doing great."

Dad stood up and grabbed the wooden practice swords he’d left leaning against the fence.

"Now for weapon training."

Kai’s eyes lit up. Swords! Finally, something more interesting than breathing slowly!

"Even if you become an energy cultivator later," Dad explained, "understanding weapon basics helps you understand combat principles. Balance. Distance. Timing. These concepts apply to everything."

He demonstrated the Five Basic Cuts—fundamental sword movements that taught different angles of attack.

Overhead strike. Diagonal slash left. Diagonal slash right. Horizontal cut. Rising thrust.

Each movement was performed slowly, with explanation of weight distribution, where to look, how to recover your stance.

"Your turn." Dad handed Kai a wooden practice sword sized for children.

Kai took it, wrapping his small fingers around the grip.

The sword felt ridiculously light. Like holding a twig. His enhanced strength wanted to accidentally snap it.

Careful. Normal grip strength. Don’t break the practice sword.

He looked at the sword, at his father, at the open yard.

Then knowledge about the sword started to be stirred in his mind.

The complete understanding of sword movements. The comprehension of cutting, of edges, of how a blade should move through space.

His body knew what to do. His muscles had the memory. His Terran Bloodline’s instant learning capability made every movement feel natural.

Kai performed the first cut. Overhead strike.

Perfect form. Textbook execution. The kind of movement that swordmasters achieved after decades of practice.

The wooden blade whistled through the air. The angle was geometrically precise. His weight shifted flawlessly. The recovery position was exactly right.

Dad’s eyes went wide.

Oh no, Kai realized immediately. Too perfect. I did it too perfect again!

"Uh... like this?" He tried to sound uncertain.

Dad walked over slowly. "Do... do all five cuts."

Kai performed them. He tried to add tiny mistakes—a small wobble here, slightly wrong foot placement there—but his body kept auto-correcting to optimal form. The Terran Bloodline’s learning acceleration wouldn’t let him do things wrong once he understood the right way.

Each cut was eerily precise. Professional. Way, WAY beyond what any five-year-old should manage on their literal first try.

Dad set down his own practice sword very carefully.

"Kai."

"Yes, Father?"

"Have you been secretly practicing sword forms?"

"No! This is my first time holding a sword!"

"Then how..." Dad gestured helplessly. "You just executed those cuts with better form than I demonstrated. Better form than I can personally achieve. Some of those recovery positions—I didn’t even teach you those movements. You just... knew them."

Kai bit his lip. This was bad. He’d messed up again.

Mom was watching from the doorway with an unreadable expression.

Yue was staring with her mouth hanging open. "That was SO COOL! Little brother, you looked like a real warrior!"

Dad sat down heavily on the training post, looking tired despite it being early morning.

"Kai... I don’t think I can teach you anymore."

"What?" Kai’s heart sank. "Why not?"

"Because you’ve already surpassed everything I know. In less than two hours." Dad’s voice was quiet. "I’m a merchant, Kai. I have basic Body Tempering cultivation. I know enough to teach children fundamentals. But you..." He looked at his son with a mix of pride and something like sadness. "You don’t need fundamentals. You’re already beyond them."

"But I want to learn from you!" Kai protested, and he genuinely meant it. Dad might not be a high-level cultivator, but he was still his father.

Dad smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "And I want to teach you, son. More than anything. But you need a real master now. Someone at the city academy, or..." he hesitated, "or maybe even a sect instructor."

"No sects," Mom said firmly from the doorway. "Absolutely not. He’s five years old. He can attend the city academy when he’s ten, after proper talent testing. Until then, he trains at home with family."

"Agreed," Dad nodded. "But Mei, we need to acknowledge that our son is... exceptional. Extraordinarily so. We need to find him proper instruction that can actually challenge him."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the yard.

Kai felt genuinely bad. He hadn’t meant to make Dad feel inadequate. He’d just... forgotten to be worse at things.

System, I messed up, didn’t I?

[Host displayed skill level inconsistent with claimed inexperience. Recommend better performance management in future.]

Thanks for the helpful advice AFTER I already screwed up.

[You’re welcome.]

The awkward silence was broken by Yue attempting her own overhead strike.

The wooden sword flew out of her hands like a bird escaping a cage, sailed through the air in a perfect arc, and embedded itself point-first in the ground three meters away.

Everyone turned to stare at the quivering sword handle.

Yue looked at her empty hands. "...I meant to do that. That’s my special throwing technique. Very advanced."

Despite everything, Dad cracked a smile. "We don’t throw the practice weapons, Yue."

"But what if my cultivation path is throwing sword specialist? You don’t know! I could be a prodigy!"

"Then we’ll discuss it when you’re ten and tested."

Mom walked over and pulled the sword out of the ground. "How about we take a break? I’ll make lunch. Everyone inside."

"Lunch sounds good," Dad agreed, standing up and brushing grass off his pants. He ruffled Kai’s hair. "You did amazing work today, son. Truly amazing. I’m proud of you, even if you’re too talented for your old father to teach properly."

Kai hugged Dad’s leg. "You’re the best teacher. I learned a lot!" (About how to fake being a beginner. Mainly that. But still!)

Dad smiled and led them back toward the house.

As they walked, Kai’s mind was already spinning.

I need to be way more careful. If I keep showing off by accident, they’ll figure out something weird is going on.

[Recommend: Tonight, practice alone. Tomorrow, deliberately perform worse to establish believable progression curve.]

Good idea. I’ll make mistakes on purpose. Ask lots of questions. Act confused sometimes.

[Host is becoming proficient at deception.]

I prefer to call it "managing expectations."

[Distinction without meaningful difference.]

They went inside for lunch, and Kai made absolutely sure to eat only one normal portion, even though his void energy cells were screaming for more.

Being normal was exhausting.