Later that day, after catching his breath, Atlas stretched with a wince. "Well, this was fun. But I think I'll be heading out now."
Xian Yue's head snapped toward him so fast he thought she might get whiplash. "Excuse me?"
Ming nearly choked on his tea. "You can barely walk. Where exactly do you think you're going?"
Atlas flashed a grin. "Back to my kingdom, obviously. My people need me."
Ren crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Ryl Trading is fine without you."
Atlas scoffed. "Yeah, but I don't trust Meyu not to have taken over half the economy by now. The last thing I need is to return and find she's declared herself empress of commerce."
Xian Yue sighed, rubbing her temples. "And this is a problem because…?"
"Because then I'd have to stage a coup and take what is mine" Atlas said, exasperated.
"And that sounds exhausting."
Shen Xue scowled. "You're injured. You need time to recover."
Atlas shrugged. "Then I'll recover on the way."
Ming stared at him, deadpan. "That's not how healing works."
Atlas patted his shoulder. "That's not how business works either, but here we are."
Shen Xue muttered, "I should've just knocked you out again."
Atlas grinned. "Now, now, let's not get violent. Unless you want to carry me all the way there, I'd suggest letting me leave with dignity."
Ren snorted. "You've never had dignity."
Atlas gasped in mock offense. "And yet, you'll all miss me when I'm gone."
Xian Yue sighed, waving him off. "Go before I change my mind."
Atlas grinned, already stepping toward the exit. "Finally, someone with sense!"
Shen Xue crossed her arms. "If you pass out in a ditch, I'm not dragging you back."
Atlas shot her a wink. "Good thing I'm rich enough to afford ditches with proper bedding."
He found Lianhua sitting by the training grounds, watching the disciples spar. He knelt beside her.
"You've been thinking, huh?"
She nodded hesitantly, her gaze lingering on the martial artists. The sound of feet against stone and the occasional clash of weapons seemed distant to her.
"Good. Then I'll keep my word." His voice was softer now, stripped of the usual humour.
"You don't owe me anything. Your life is yours to choose."
She hesitated for a moment. "Can I… really stay?"
Atlas smiled, a genuine, soft expression that warmed his tired face. "Yeah. And you'll be safe here. This is your choice now, Lianhua. Nothing you do here, no step you take, will be forced."
She looked up at him, unsure. "You're leaving?"
"I am" he said, glancing around the courtyard.
"But I'll visit. And I'll bring you exclusive stuff every time I do."
Shen Xue, who had been watching them from a distancem, said "She's a child, not a customer."
Atlas didn't miss a beat. Ruffling Lianhua's hair, he chuckled softly. "Could've fooled me."
The girl smiled—a small but real one—and for the first time, Atlas felt the warmth of a genuine connection.
Shen Xue scowled from afar, clearly not pleased with Atlas' teasing but unwilling to interrupt.
"She's still a child."
Atlas didn't respond to her; instead, he turned back to Lianhua, his voice soft and sincere. "I meant it. You'll be taken care of here. But if you ever feel like leaving, making your own choices… just know that the door will always be open for you."
Her gaze flickered to the other disciples training. "What if I… stay here? Can I truly belong here?"
Atlas nodded slowly, his face soft with a hint of seriousness. "You can belong wherever you choose. And no matter what happens, this place will be safe for you. That's a promise."
Lianhua hesitated but nodded. "Thank you, Atlas."
Atlas felt like he had done something right. And with that, he stood and began to leave. He had made his choice for her, and she had made hers.
Before he departed, Atlas approached the woman who had yet to reclaim her name. She sat in the corner of the training ground, still lost in her thoughts, staring at nothing.
He crouched in front of her, his voice gentle but firm. "You had a name once. A life. A family."
She didn't react.
"You were someone's wife. Someone's mother. And that doesn't just disappear."
He hesitated, unsure if it would even matter, but said the words anyway. "Your name is Elena."
She blinked.
Atlas straightened up. "That's your name now. Elena."
He repeated the name with a soft finality. "You were capable of love. Of care. And you can find that again. Maybe not now, but someday. Through Lianhua."
The faintest flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes, though she still didn't respond.
"Don't forget it" he added, his voice quieter.
Daokan reminds her of his promise to her as well ''I will bear the sin of ending your life."
Atlas sighed, rubbing his neck. "Morbid as hell. But he's right."
"Elena."
She blinked again and looked up to Atlas.
Atlas exhaled. "That's your name now. Close to my mother's.''
For the first time, something flickered in her empty eyes unknown to what it is but perhaps hope.
The sect watched as Atlas left, his steps still slow but determined.
Daokan, arms crossed, murmured, "That boy is going to be a nightmare for the world."
Yan Shuren smirked. "And I look forward to it."
Atlas stretched, ignoring the lingering pain.
Alright, Meyu. Let's see how much you've scammed while I was gone.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a long, red-orange hue across the road leading back to the main city. Atlas' steps were slow, the ache in his body unmistakable, but he refused to let it show. Every step forward was one of defiance—against his own limitations, against the pain, against everything that tried to keep him down.
As he adjusted the coat that hung awkwardly over his bandaged frame, he couldn't help but feel a moment of calm. This is the road to freedom, he thought. He had made his choices, and they were his to bear.
But just as the city walls came into view, a low voice broke the silence.
"Look at this, a bandaged up fool trying to wander through our turf."
Atlas stopped, eyes narrowing. He heard the sound of boots scraping against the dirt—familiar, but unsettling. When he turned, his gaze fell on a group of men who had emerged from the shadows, blocking the road ahead.
At first glance, they appeared to be low-tier thugs—unrefined, armed with crude weapons, and dripping with smug confidence. There were five of them, but their arrogance made it seem like dozens. Atlas' eyes narrowed, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and defiance. His body was still recovering—too weak to fight but thanks to training with Master Daokan, he can feel his body absorbing Qi in miniscule levels. He weigh the options to tried sweettalk his way out but he had no choice. This wasn't a fight he could avoid.
One of them, the apparent leader, grinned. "You should have stayed at home, man. You look like you've seen better days" the leader taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Hand over everything you have. We'll be merciful. Maybe we'll even let you keep your other leg intact."
Atlas' eyes gleamed with unspoken amusement. The pain was still there, a dull throb, but it was nothing compared to the challenge of dealing with amateurs like this.
The group of thugs in front of him seemed sure of their victory. Their leader, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, smirked as he raised his rusted sword, swinging it in a slow arc, clearly enjoying the way Atlas wavered on his feet.
Atlas barely registered the leader's words, his focus instead on how his body refused to respond the way he wanted. He was too weak, still too broken. His legs trembled beneath him, barely holding him up. His arms were sluggish, his coordination off.
"Really?" Atlas murmured, flashing a grin that was more out of habit than confidence.
"You think I'd be an easy mark?"
The leader sneered. "Not even a question. Look at you—just barely standing. This'll be too easy."
In truth, Atlas was terrified. His body ached from head to toe, and the recent strain of attempting to control his Qi left him feeling like his insides were being torn apart. His heart hammered in his chest. He was in pain, he was weak, and he had no idea how to fight at this moment.
But something deep inside him stirred. Panic. There's no negotiating back, no sweettalking, their bloodlust was actually overwhelming.
Absorb. Redirect. he told himself remembering Master Daokan teaching
His body had been absorbing Qi all this time. The flow was chaotic, uncontrollable—but it could work. It had to. It was basically do or die.
The sword came down, aiming straight for his chest.
Instinct kicked in. Atlas barely twisted his body, feeling the strike land just off-center. He sucked in a sharp breath as pain flared through his side. The sword was heavy, blunt, and rusty—but the power behind it still rattled his bones.
His body moved of its own accord, the energy swirling around him. Without thinking, Atlas redirected the absorbed Qi in a burst. He didn't fully control it. The result wasn't pretty. It was crude, desperate. The thug's body jerked backward as if struck by an invisible force. He staggered, and his eyes widened in disbelief. But before he could react, he fell to the ground, twitching violently.
Atlas stumbled back, his chest heaving. He was trembling, drenched in sweat. His head spun.
The rest of the thugs froze, momentarily stunned by the sight of their comrade writhing on the ground. The leader's sneer faltered.
"You—what the hell did you just do?!" the leader demanded, eyes narrowing in fury.