The Elder of the Flying Sword Sect stood frozen at the entrance of the Spirit Pavilion. In fifty years of testing outer disciples, he had never seen the Spirit Measuring Stone glow with three concentric rings of violet light.

“Young man,” the elder stammered, his white beard trembling in the mountain breeze. “What technique were you circulating just now?”

Yuan withdrew his fingers from the jade column. In truth, he had only copied the breathing cadence taught to him by the phantom zither master in the tutorial valley. “Just a basic exercise, elder,” he answered humbly.

“Basic? That was the lost breathing method of the Ninth Heaven!”

Meanwhile, in the hospital room back in the real world, the vital sign monitor beeped with an unprecedented rhythm. The neural readings were surging. Deep within Yuan’s paralyzed legs, dead nerve endings flickered with faint, microscopic electrical sparks—the first stirring of life in over six long years.