Just as I was about to stand again, perhaps to hide the incriminating English notes or simply to test the limits of this weak body further, the oppressive silence that had resettled in the room was violently shattered. I heard hurried footsteps, light but driven by panic, as they pounded on the polished wooden floorboards just outside my door. They were accompanied by a distinctly feminine voice – sharp, urgent, laced with an underlying tremor that spoke of barely contained hysteria. Her hushed, frantic tones were answered by a deeper voice – calmer, but carrying an undeniable weight, a resonance that vibrated faintly even through the thick door, speaking with an urgency that belied its measured cadence.
There was no polite cough, no servant announcing visitors, no deference whatsoever to my esteemed persona. The bedroom door, intricately carved with stylized auspicious clouds meant to symbolize good fortune – oh, the irony – simply burst inward with a startling, explosive , rebounding hard against the interior wall, the impact shuddering through the floor beneath my feet.
Framed dramatically in the doorway, bathed in the slightly brighter light from the corridor beyond, stood the source of the feminine panic. Her breath came in ragged, visible gasps, misting slightly in the cool morning air. Mid-twenties, perhaps, with high cheekbones and intelligent, almond-shaped eyes that were currently stretched wide, pupils dilated with raw panic. Her dark hair, usually bound neatly, had come partially undone, strands clinging damply to her temples as if she’d sprinted a marathon. This was Lin Ruolan, the personal steward assigned – or perhaps inflicted – upon Jiang Li by his mother. Her features, usually composed in a mask of professional deference that Jiang Li’s memories recalled finding intensely annoying, were now stripped bare, revealing stark fear and an exhaustion that seemed carved into the lines around her eyes. She wore the practical, dark blue tunic and trousers of a high-status servant, well-made but functional, yet even this couldn't entirely conceal the tightly coiled energy, the trained physique of a dedicated cultivator.
My borrowed memories instantly supplied her level: stage of Qi Gathering. A realm significantly beyond my own pathetic state, prestigious for someone in her position, suggesting she wasn't merely a servant but a capable individual entrusted with overseeing this branch of the family’s affairs – or at least, with overseeing .
To my cultivator’s senses, a palpable aura of agitated Qi radiated from her like heat shimmer, sharp, unstable -- a discordant note in the room's quiet luxury. Jiang Li’s memories whispered of her quiet competence and barely concealed disdain for her charge. She clearly despised her assignment of tending to the useless second young master… but her current state seemed to transcend mere job dissatisfaction.
What I saw now was primal fear.
Behind her, stepping into the room with a deliberation that felt almost glacial compared to Lin Ruolan’s frantic energy, was the old man whose voice I’d heard. He looked to be sixty, perhaps seventy years old, yet his back was ramrod straight, his movements economical and precise. His face was a fascinating landscape of deep wrinkles, radiating from the corners of eyes as sharp, piercing, and unnervingly perceptive as a hawk’s surveying its domain. He wore simple, dark robes of a practical, almost severe cut, devoid of any embroidery or ornamentation, yet the fabric held a subtle luster suggesting quality far beyond its plain appearance. A faint, complex herbal scent clung to him, overriding the room’s incense. In one weathered hand, he carried a worn, dark wooden box, its surface polished smooth by countless years of handling, secured with tarnished brass fittings. Even closed, it emanated a potent, layered blend of medicinal aromas – the bitterness of dried roots, the pungent sharpness of exotic leaves, the underlying sweetness of rare resins. This, undoubtedly, was Alchemist Chen, the most respected (and consequently the most expensive), alchemist in this entire backwater city.
His presence felt… heavy. Ancient. A quiet pressure settled in the room as he entered, the weight of his cultivation pressing down subtly but undeniably. Peak of the Qi Gathering stage, Jiang Li’s memories screamed, a chasm away from my current state -- a being who could likely crush me with a stray gesture.
His gaze, cool and detached, swept the room with methodical precision – taking in the desk with my incriminating notes, the rumpled bed, the lingering scent of Three Suns Grass – before finally landing, and staying, on me. There was no surprise in those ancient eyes, no flicker of relief or concern. Only assessment. Cold, clinical, and utterly unreadable.
My reaction was pure muscle memory, honed over twenty years of auditions, rehearsals, and performances where projecting confidence while internally dissolving was paramount.
Mask up.
Persona engaged.
I suppressed the startled jump, quelled the jolt of primal fear that shot through me at the Alchemist’s palpable presence. Instead, I let a flicker of carefully cultivated annoyance cross Jiang Li’s features – the petulant irritation of a young master disturbed. I leaned back slightly in the chair, deliberately breaking eye contact with the Alchemist for a moment, as if his arrival was an unwelcome interruption to vital contemplation (my hastily scrawled English list!). I allowed the genuine weakness, the pallor left by the poison and the System’s recent intervention, to remain evident – there was no hiding that – but I overlaid it with the remembered arrogance, the entitled air of the original owner of this body. Let them see weakness, yes -- but let them see the weakness of a , not a victim.
Lin Ruolan saw me, truly
me sitting there, the elegant brush still loosely held in my unfamiliar hand, and froze mid-step as if turned to stone. Her already wide eyes stretched impossibly further, the whites stark against her pale skin. The frantic energy that had propelled her into the room seemed to evaporate instantly, leaving behind a vacuum filled with utter, slack-jawed shock. A choked, strangled gasp escaped her lips, loud in the sudden stillness.
Then, as if the invisible strings holding her taut had been violently severed, an almost violent wave of relief washed over her features, so potent it made her stagger. Tears, immediate and copious, welled and spilled, tracing clean paths through the grime of her panic on her cheeks.
"Young Master!" Her voice cracked, thick with tears and disbelief. She rushed forward, stumbling over her own feet in her haste, and dropped into a deep, trembling bow just inside the room, her forehead pressing hard against the cool, polished floorboards.
"You're... you're awake! Alive! Thank the heavens! Oh, thank all the merciful heavens!"
Words tumbled out of her then, a breathless, frantic torrent of explanation aimed at the floor, echoing slightly in the suddenly quiet, expectant room.
"I found you terribly unwell when you returned last night... from... from the Serene Phoenix Pavilion... your Qi was chaotic, your breathing shallow... I applied the Three Suns poultice ... but you only worsened... your breathing… I… I ran immediately to fetch Alchemist Chen! It was all I could think to do!"
Her explanation, punctuated by ragged, gulping breaths, felt genuine in its terror. The fear of blame from the powerful Jiang family, especially the Matron – Jiang Li’s formidable mother, according to the memories – was clearly a potent, perhaps overriding, motivator. But, as she poured out her story to the floorboards, a cold knot formed in my stomach. Was fear of blame the reason for her panic? Or was there something else beneath it?
While Lin Ruolan remained prostrated, lost in her torrent of relief and fear, Alchemist Chen ignored her completely, as if she were merely part of the furniture. He stepped further into the room, his movements deliberate, his sharp eyes fixed unwaveringly on me. He moved with the quiet confidence of absolute competence, his gaze methodical, clinical, dissecting me layer by layer. He noted my pallor, but also the steadiness – feigned, but hopefully convincing – with which I now held myself. He observed the slight tremor in my hand as I deliberately, slowly, placed the brush down beside my English notes (a calculated risk, leaving them visible). He tracked the shallow, yet now even, rhythm of my breathing. His gaze flickered over the expensive silk robes I wore, then to the bedside table, perhaps noting the jade pendant.
His expression remained impassive, deeply skeptical, letting out only another soft, noncommittal, "Hmm." It was the sound of a master craftsman examining flawed material, and it somehow carried more weight, more judgment, than Ruolan’s entire frantic monologue.
I kept my own expression carefully neutral, leaning fully into the role: the arrogant, convalescing young master, irritated by the intrusion but too proud to show excessive alarm. I listened to Lin Ruolan’s explanation, meticulously filing away the details – Serene Phoenix Pavilion (a place Jiang Li frequented, known for its beautiful women and potent wine, a perfect place for an ambush or a poisoned drink), chaotic Qi, the Three Suns poultice (a basic stabilizer, but useless against
qi poison), her overwhelming fear of the Matron…
Her terror seemed real, yes, but the entire situation still stank of conspiracy. Qi poison wasn't something you just like a cold after a night out, even a night out at a high-class brothel.
Someone had targeted Jiang Li with the intention to kill.
Was the terrified servant part of it?
Time for the first line delivery of this new, deadly role. I turned my gaze slowly, deliberately, towards the still-bowing Lin Ruolan, letting my voice remain weak, slightly breathless, but infusing it with a sharp thread of Jiang Li’s remembered arrogance and inherent suspicion.
"" I repeated, letting a touch of derisive scorn enter the rasp. The word hung in the air for a beat.
"That's putting it mildly, Lin Ruolan." I paused again, letting the silence stretch, acutely aware of the Alchemist’s unwavering, analytical gaze boring into me. "It seems I was poisoned last night."
I watched her reaction with the focus of an actor hitting a critical mark. Her shoulders hitched violently, as if struck. Her head jerked up slightly, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before flickering open, darting wildly, refusing to meet mine.
"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" The question landed like a physical blow, sharp and pointed despite the deliberate weakness of my voice.
Lin Ruolan paled dramatically, a visible wave of sickly white draining the color from her neck and face, leaving her skin looking almost translucent against her dark hair. Her eyes, when they flickered upwards again for a desperate, split second, were wide pools of stark panic. She flinched, pressing her forehead back towards the floor as if seeking refuge in the wood grain.
"Poisoned?!" Her voice was a strangled whisper, barely audible. "Young Master, you... you were gravely ill! Your Qi was scattering! I... I did everything I could, applied the stabilizer... but it wasn't enough! Fetching Alchemist Chen was the only recourse!"
She didn't deny it. Not directly. A classic evasion. She deflected, hammering on the , her , her voice trembling with what could easily be interpreted as guilt just as much as fear.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
My internal danger meter regarding the 'loyal' family steward ticked up several notches. She was either innocent and , or complicit and terrified of being . But which one was it?
Time for the bluff. The big swing. The line that could change everything or get me killed faster. I summoned every ounce of Leo Maxwell’s stage presence, channeling it into the frail vessel of Jiang Li. I waved a dismissive hand, the movement deliberately slow and weak, yet conveying utter nonchalance. I let out a small, dry cough, wincing slightly for theatrical effect. Turning my gaze slowly towards the Alchemist, pointedly ignoring the prostrated servant as if her panic were an irrelevant distraction, I adopted a tone of profound, weary boredom.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
"Tch. Panicking over nothing." My voice was still weak, yes, but now laced with undisguised contempt for their fuss. Then, letting my eyes finally meet the Alchemist’s steady, piercing gaze, I delivered the line I’d mentally rehearsed, aiming for that perfect blend of casual arrogance and innate superiority, a hint of amusement at their provincial overreaction.
"Fortunately," I stated, almost conversationally, "it was a mere Silent Meridian Frost." I paused, letting the unfamiliar, dangerous name hang heavy in the suddenly charged air, then added with a dismissive sniff, the gesture -- pure Jiang Li arrogance, "A third-rate poison like could never hope to harm this esteemed Young Master."
Lin Ruolan just looked utterly, profoundly bewildered, her brow furrowed in incomprehension. The name clearly meant nothing to her, a Qi Gathering-level servant wouldn't necessarily recognize a Qi toxin unless directly involved. My casual dismissal of a near-death experience, coupled with the unfamiliar name, likely short-circuited her already panicked brain. She simply stared at the floor, lost.
But Alchemist Chen, on the other hand? Now reaction was everything I had hoped for, and more.
It wasn't overly dramatic. It was subtle, but utterly revealing to my actor’s trained eye. His sharp, ancient eyes widened almost imperceptibly, the pupils dilating for a fraction of a second. I heard the soft, sharp hiss of an indrawn breath, cutting through the room's stillness. His weathered hand, which had been resting calmly on the worn brass latch of his medicine box, froze mid-motion, fingers tightening slightly. His impassive mask, the carefully constructed neutrality of a seasoned professional, cracked. Just for an instant -- but long enough for me to see the flicker of sharp disbelief, immediately followed by intense scrutiny and a dawning, calculating light.
His gaze snapped back to me, sharper now, no longer just assessing a sick young master, but examining an anomaly, a puzzle that defied logic, a piece that simply didn’t fit on the board.
The realization sent a jolt of pure adrenaline, a mixture of terror and elation, racing down my spine.
And right on cue, as if summoned by the Alchemist's dawning (dis)belief, the silvery text bloomed again in my mind's eye, cool, precise, and utterly world-changing.
[Qualified Belief Detected: Alchemist Chen (Qi condensation – 9th
Stage). BQT Level 3 Met!]
My heart hammered against my ribs.
[Analyzing Belief: Implied Resilience against 'Silent Meridian Frost' / Possession of Hidden Strength]
[Threshold Met! Manifestation Initiated!]
[Active Persona Updated: Jiang Li (Hidden Strength)]
[Status Update: Cultivation: Qi Gathering, Stage 4. 'Degraded' status removed. Silent Meridian Frost partially suppressed.]
[Belief Meter: +150 (High Quality Belief Acquired)]
The change wasn't subtle this time. It wasn't a gentle warming or a slight easing of weakness. It was like a dam bursting deep within me, unleashing a flood. A tangible wave of potent, invigorating warmth surged through my meridians – the ethereal pathways of Qi Jiang Li’s memories understood – forcefully scouring away the insidious, icy tendrils of the Silent Meridian Frost. It felt like ice cracking and melting under a sudden spring sun. The profound, bone-deep weakness that had permeated my body lessened dramatically, replaced by a returning sense of actual strength, of vibrant humming just beneath the surface. My breathing eased instantly, deepening naturally, filling my lungs without effort. The fog that had clouded my mind evaporated, replaced by a sharp, exhilarating clarity. I could the Qi within my dantian – the quasi-real energy center below the navel – swirling with newfound vigor, stable, potent, and significantly more substantial than mere moments before.
Qi Gathering, Stage .
Just like that.
From the absolute dregs of a degraded Stage Two to the solid middle-ground of Stage Four in a single, breathless instant. All because this sharp-eyed old man, too powerful for his own good, sincerely that I be something more than I appeared.
The System was real.
The System was responsive.
The System was terrifyingly,
powerful.
The atmosphere in the room had shifted palpably, the tension ratcheting up several notches. Lin Ruolan remained huddled on the floor, looking utterly lost now, glancing nervously between me and the suddenly intense Alchemist, sensing the change but not understanding its source.
Alchemist Chen, however, was now focused on me with an unnerving, penetrating intensity. His earlier skepticism was entirely gone, replaced by a cautious, calculating intrigue that bordered on outright suspicion. He was no longer looking at Jiang Li, the family disgrace, the deadbeat young master. He was looking at a mystery, an enigma made flesh.
The old man took a deliberate step forward, his movements precise, almost ritualistic. He even offered a slight, almost imperceptible bow from the waist – a gesture of formal respect unthinkable towards the Jiang Li of yesterday.
"Young Master Jiang," he stated, his voice perfectly measured, betraying none of the surprise his eyes had shown moments before, though the intensity remained. "Possesses remarkable fortitude."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of observed fact.
"Silent Meridian Frost," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine, "is a potent Qi toxin infamous for its lethality below the mid-stage of Qi Gathering, and its acquisition requires significant resources."
He paused, letting the implications hang heavily in the air – implications of power, wealth, and dangerous enemies. His gaze sharpened further, probing deep.
"Please allow this old man to properly examine your meridians. Even if suppressed, the lingering frost can cause future complications."
My mind raced, the elation of the sudden power boost warring with immediate, pressing caution.
The power flowing through my newly stabilized meridians felt incredible, intoxicating after the profound weakness I’d woken up with. The System was real, potent, responsive. But now I was directly under the microscope of a relatively powerful – and undoubtedly knowledgeable -- expert. The Alchemist's request was a double-edged sword, sharp and gleaming.
Realistically, I probably needed his expertise; the poison was only suppressed, the System had said so itself. Lingering frost? Future complications? That sounded ominous.
But…
Letting a cultivator of his level examine my meridians… could he detect the sudden, unnatural jump from Stage Two to Four? Worse, could he somehow sense the lingering presence of Leo Maxwell's soul, or the 'integration' the System mentioned? Would he assume I was a body snatcher? body snatchers even a thing in this universe? Based on my memories, Demonic cultivators certainly seemed to be…
And what about Lin Ruolan, still huddled on the floor? Was her panicked deflection based on genuine fear of the Matron, or was she involved in the poisoning, now scrambling because her assassination attempt had inexplicably failed? Even if she was still loyal to my family, she was still a dangerous unknown. How would she react if the old man’s examination showed something unusual?
No, I couldn’t take such chances.
I looked at the Alchemist, meeting his intense, unwavering gaze. I needed to play this carefully. Agreeing to an examination seemed necessary – for my health, for information, and crucially, to maintain the facade of the confident (if weakened) young master who had nothing to hide. Refusing would be instantly suspicious, potentially unraveling the very belief that had just saved my life and granted me this power…
, of course, I provided a valid reason for such a refusal.
It was time for Act Two of this impromptu performance. The stakes had just been raised considerably.
I leaned back slightly further in the chair, deliberately projecting an air of weary tolerance, a subtle sigh escaping my lips, as if granting him an audience, let alone an examination, was an inconvenience interrupting my recovery. A new game was afoot. Survival wasn't just about avoiding immediate death anymore. It was about managing the dangerous, powerful perception of myself I had just created.
I allowed a faint, dismissive smile – pure Jiang Li arrogance – to touch my lips. The power thrumming within me, courtesy of the Alchemist's own belief, gave me the confidence to push the performance further.
" me?" I echoed, raising a skeptical eyebrow, deliberately projecting an air of weary tolerance mixed with faint amusement.
"Alchemist Chen, while I appreciate the diligence appropriate for servicing the Jiang family, your concern is… misplaced."
I made a show of flexing my fingers – fingers that actually felt responsive and strong now – marveling internally at the returned strength while projecting utter boredom.
"This Silent Meridian Frost… is indeed troublesome for men, perhaps." I paused, letting the implication hang, letting him fill in the blanks about my 'superior' nature. Then, leaning forward just slightly, conspiratorially, I added with utmost casualness,
"For Young Master, however? My body has… unique properties. A… special constitution, you might say. Certain toxins… merely serve to temper my meridians further. The initial discomfort is annoying, certainly," – I allowed a flicker of remembered “discomfort,” the phantom chill, to cross my features momentarily, grounding the lie in a kernel of truth – "but it is ultimately beneficial in the long run."
Internally, a frantic mantra screamed on repeat.
Outwardly, I let out another subtle sigh, this one infused with profound ennui, as if discussing such mundane matters was beneath me.
Alchemist Chen's reaction was, again, subtle but telling. His eyes, already sharp, seemed to gain another layer of intensity -- not suspicion, thankfully -- but avid, almost academic curiosity. He slowly stroked his sparse white beard, a classic gesture of contemplation.
"A special constitution..." he murmured, the words barely audible, his gaze drifting slightly as if accessing vast stores of knowledge. "Tempering meridians with cold-attribute toxins..."
He gave a slow, deliberate nod, the last vestiges of skepticism seemingly evaporating, replaced by a grudging, scholarly acceptance of the outlandish premise. He looked back at me, a new kind of respect – or perhaps, avarice – gleaming in his ancient eyes. "To think the esteemed Jiang family possesses such a powerful legacy..."
The System chimed again in my mind, confirming my desperate hope.
[Qualified Belief Detected: Alchemist Chen (Qi Gathering – 9th
Stage). BQT Level 3 Met!]
[Analyzing Belief: Possession of 'Unknown Special Constitution' (Cold or Toxin Tempering Type)]
[Threshold Met! Manifestation Initiated!]
[Status Update: Silent Meridian Frost: Fully Suppressed (Tempering Meridians)]
[New Attribute Manifested: Special Constitution: Unknown (Detected - 8% Manifestation)]
[Belief Meter: +50 (Specific Attribute Belief Acquired)]
Another wave, different this time, washed through me. It was not the raw power surge of the cultivation jump, but a deeper, more fundamental shift. The last vestiges of the unnatural, invasive coldness from the Silent Meridian Frost vanished completely, as if neutralized at the source.
In its place, a comfortable, invigorating warmth settled deep within my core. More than that, I felt a subtle change within the pathways themselves – my meridians. They felt... tougher. More resilient. More flexible. As if the poison, now fully suppressed and somehow altered by the System's manifestation, had indeed left behind a strengthening effect, just as I'd bluffed. The flow of my Stage 4 Qi felt even smoother now – effortless -- cycling with a quiet power that felt both innate and entirely fabricated.
What did that mean? Did more belief make my made-up constitution 'more real'? What would it feel like when it manifested fully? The implications were staggering, another layer to this insane System I needed to unravel.
Feeling genuinely better, stronger, and armed with a newly manifested (if only 8% real — whatever that meant) special constitution, my confidence surged. It made delivering the next part of the performance almost easy.
"Examination?" I scoffed lightly, waving a hand with even more pronounced boredom, leaning back in the chair as if settling in for a tedious necessity I had already decided against. "Unnecessary." My gaze flickered towards the Alchemist, sharp despite the casual tone.
"The matter is resolved. My body has handled it."
The implication was clear: Alchemist Chen’s services, while perhaps appreciated in their intent, were ultimately redundant for someone of my unique caliber. I then turned my gaze, deliberately cold this time, towards the still-prostrated Lin Ruolan, who flinched again under my attention.
"Steward Lin," I commanded, pitching my voice to carry the weight of a master addressing a servant, "see to the Alchemist's fee for his trouble in coming here. Add a generous tip for his promptness."
A small measure of magnanimity to soften the dismissal, perhaps, or just another layer to the performance. Then, addressing both of them with an air of finality, my tone leaving no room for argument, "You may both leave now. I require rest after this... minor annoyance."
Dismissing them felt like the correct play for the arrogant, newly 'revealed' Jiang Li persona, reinforcing the idea that he was unconcerned, powerful enough to disregard even a Peak Qi Gathering Alchemist's advice, and utterly in control despite the earlier brush with death.
Internally, however, a knot of anxiety tightened. Had I pushed things too far? Alchemist Chen's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable once more – the brief flicker of scholarly curiosity replaced by that unnerving, calculating neutrality. He gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod, then turned without another word, his aura withdrawing slightly as he moved towards the door. Lin Ruolan scrambled up hastily, bowing repeatedly towards me and the Alchemist before scurrying out after him, presumably to handle the payment as instructed, her face still pale with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.
I watched them go, the door closing softly behind them, leaving me once again in the heavy silence of the luxurious room. I had given the performance of a lifetime, solidifying my 'Hidden Strength' and 'Special Constitution' in the Alchemist's mind, triggering powerful manifestations from the System.
But… I still knew next to nothing concrete about the 'Silent Meridian Frost' beyond its name and the fact that someone had used it on me. For now, I was alive, stronger, and had established a baseline of unexpected capability – but, if I wanted things to
that way, I needed information, desperately. And I needed to understand the full capabilities of this System, and figure out how to leverage it to get truly stronger, fast.
Before whoever poisoned Jiang Li decided to try to kill him again — and with something a bit more robust than "mere poison" this time.
