The silence in the pill room was absolute.

  Feiyin sat cross-legged on the smooth stone floor, bathed in the soft amber light cast by the array lanterns embedded in the ceiling. Around him, the room was warm with lingering heat from the volcanic stone that supported the alchemy branch, but his breath was steady—calm.

  Bai Yu rested coiled in a corner, watching silently. She could sense it—the change in his rhythm. Not just a shift in breathing or posture. Something deeper. The echo beneath the skin.

  Feiyin’s eyes were closed, but behind them, he saw with perfect clarity.

  Not the world.

  But himself.

  Through his oscillation sense, the inner symphony of his body played like a layered melody. Each organ, each channel of inner strength vibrated at its own frequency, harmonizing into a whole. Over the years, he had refined this sense to a point where the slightest dissonance felt like a discordant note in a familiar piece of music.

  And there they were.

  Two notes that had never played.

  The final two meridians.

  The 107th and 108th.

  The Governing Vessel.

  The Conception Vessel.

  They pulsed faintly at the edge of his awareness—twin threads in the weave of his being. They weren’t blocked in the way a muscle might be tight, or a knot might form. They were sealed like the final notes of a forgotten melody. They were meant to be played together—or not at all.

  He could feel it clearly now. The resonance between them.

  One behind, running from the base of his spine up along the mid-line of his back, through each vertebra, connecting the adrenal glands, spine, brainstem, and eventually up to his crown. The Governing Vessel. Yang. Fire. The activation.

  The other ahead, threading up from below his navel to his chest, throat, and lips. Conception. Yin. Water. The calm.

  It was like standing between two oceans that met only in him.

  He had suspected it for some time now.

  If he tried to force one open before the other, the imbalance would rupture his core. The flow of inner strength would spiral violently into chaos, either making go on a frenzy or freezing his consciousness into stasis.

  But now…

  Now he was ready.

  He opened his palm. Within, his inner strength coiled like silk. He exhaled slowly, his breath steady, then called upon the technique he had refined over years—the sewing thread method.

  Inner strength split and sharpened, becoming hundreds of fine, near-invisible strands, each led by a hardened needle.

  Lead with firmness, flow with softness.

  The first needle dove inward, a hard pulse of control, and the threads danced after it—flexible, light, subtle. Each was tuned to its own oscillation, vibrating in harmony with the inner landscape of his body.

  Feiyin guided them through the familiar meridians, weaving toward the twin gates that had never opened. Each heartbeat sent a wave of pressure through his veins, and each pulse gave him more information.

  The two meridians shimmered before him in his inner sense.

  The Governing Vessel hummed with a low, vibrating thrum, like the distant rumble of thunder behind the spine.

  The Conception Vessel sang in contrast—a soft, almost melodic echo that rose gently up his front like a lullaby.

  He pressed both palms to the floor and steadied his breath.

  No fear. No hesitation.

  He summoned his blade intent.

  The warmth within him cooled, hardening like tempered steel.

  Intent born from grief.

  Sharpened by pain.

  Honed by memory.

  He found the weak points.

  In the Governing Vessel, it was at the midpoint of his spine—where the vertebrae met at a slight asymmetry. A spot where tension lingered, unknown until now.

  In the Conception Vessel, it was just below the solar plexus—a point where emotional scars had buried themselves deep, forming a knot beneath the surface.

  Feiyin focused.

  He sent a pair of inner strength needles forward—one to each point. Each needle led a cascade of thread behind it, flowing like a river split in two.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  His body began to shake. Sweat gathered at his brow. The pressure surged.

  Like forcing open twin gates sealed since birth.

  The force grew unbearable—until it cracked.

  The Governing Vessel split first, not in violence, but in brilliance.

  A rush of fire spiraled upward from his spine, igniting his back with searing clarity. Each vertebra lit like a struck gong, harmonizing in a fierce cascade. It roared upward, pounding into his skull—his brain aflame with clarity.

  His vision flashed white.

  Simultaneously, the Conception Vessel unfolded—like a curtain lifting.

  Coolness poured through his front. From his lower abdomen, across his chest, up to his mouth, it washed over him like a wave of peace. It wrapped around the fire, balancing it, taming it.

  Yin met Yang.

  A complete circuit.

  The flow joined.

  The needle threads wove themselves together, spiraling upward and downward in perfect sync, completing the full loop through his entire body.

  Soul.

  Mind.

  Body.

  His soul flared.

  Not violently. But fully.

  His dantian—a space that had once felt hollow—suddenly stirred. It wasn't open yet. But the first signs had emerged.

  The gateway.

  The spark.

  Feiyin gasped. Not from pain. But from completion.

  He collapsed forward onto his hands, panting.

  Tears streamed down his face again, not from sadness—this time, from release.

  The final two.

  He had done it.

  No one had guided him. No one had cleared the path.

  He had felt it, read it, listened to it.

  And with his own hands, he had played the final notes.

  He turned slightly and looked to Bai Yu, who raised her head, sensing the shift.

  His body was soaked in sweat, his skin glowing faintly from the exertion.

  “I’m… whole,” he whispered.

  The snake flicked her tongue in agreement.

  What followed next, however, was not something Feiyin had prepared for.

  As the final threads of energy completed their loop, something shifted in the air around him. A strange stillness, like the moment before a single drop of water falls into a vast, silent lake.

  Then the world stirred.

  A pulse of warmth radiated from the earth beneath him—an ancient, primordial force that felt as though the mountain itself had acknowledged his transformation. The world, it seemed, had taken notice.

  Feiyin’s breath caught as the energy surged into him—not from within, but from without.

  It wasn’t exactly essence. It wasn’t inner strength either. It was something else. Something more.

  A baptism.

  The air shimmered faintly as invisible threads of power laced through his skin, sinking into his flesh, bones, and blood. Each strand of energy felt like it carried the weight of a promise—the world’s quiet answer to his resolve.

  It hurt.

  But not like pain.

  It was pressure. Density. Strength. As though his body were being reforged from the inside out.

  He bit down, holding back the groan that rose from his chest as every fiber of his being trembled. Muscles tightened, bones creaked, and even his organs shifted slightly, realigning as if recalibrated.

  Then it stopped.

  Feiyin exhaled, feeling the aftermath settle into place.

  His body… felt whole.

  Not just in the poetic sense. Not just emotionally. Physically, it felt like something fundamental had been completed. His balance of Yin and Yang, mind and flesh, soul and body—everything had aligned.

  And then he noticed something else.

  His inner strength.

  It surged.

  He reached inward, touching the current within him—and faltered.

  It was deeper than before. He could feel the tides of strength coursing through him, no longer in small streams, but in rushing rivers.

  He tested it carefully, guiding a portion through his arm, calculating the pressure.

  His eyes widened.

  99,000 kilograms.

  He almost didn’t believe it.

  He confirmed again.

  It was true.

  Each of the two meridians had gifted him an additional 33,000 kilograms of inner strength. More than all the other meridians combined.

  The numbers didn't just signify power—they reflected the harmony of the body. The Governing and Conception Vessels had not merely opened—they had connected him.

  Where others cultivated to break through realms, Feiyin had forged a complete foundation.

  He let his breath out slowly, trembling slightly.

  The baptism faded. The silence returned.

  But something had changed forever.

  Bai Yu slithered forward, sensing the difference. Her tongue flicked once, testing the air around him.

  Feiyin looked down at his hands, at his arms. They looked the same. But they weren’t.

  He was tempered steel now.

  Not just trained.

  Forged.

  The world had given him a gift.

  He would return it in kind.

  Feiyin let his breath settle again.

  Then, slowly, he extended his oscillation sense inward once more. Now that his body had been reforged, now that the harmony had been established, he wanted to understand what else had shifted beneath the surface.

  And there it was.

  A spot in his chest that had once held a quiet discord—silent, almost undetectable, but always there. The parasitic fragment that had latched onto his heart long ago. The filthy worm he had ignored, endured, out of necessity.

  Gone.

  Feiyin blinked. He looked again.

  Nothing remained. Not even a scar.

  The world’s blessing had erased it completely—as if such an unnatural presence was incompatible with the purity of its gift. As if it could not allow a flaw to exist in what it had chosen to bless.

  For the first time in years, Feiyin felt a subtle joy rise in his chest. He placed a hand over his heart, breathing in the stillness that followed. His chest felt lighter. Clearer.

  Then, deeper still, he felt something else.

  A flicker.

  At the very top of his inner circuit—where the Governing and Conception Vessels met, just beneath the crown of his head.

  It pulsed faintly. Not like inner strength. Not like blade intent.

  Something else entirely.

  Feiyin narrowed his eyes.

  “What… is that?”