The night before the Academy was a nightmare of fire and ice. As the Dao Machine tore through the blackened, poisoned pathways of Woa's meridians, his small body convulsed.
'It feels like... my blood is boiling,' Woa thought, his fingernails digging into the wooden floorboards. 'Make it stop... please...'
[Warning: Host's nervous system is reaching the 'Red Line' of pain tolerance. Psychological trauma imminent.]
[Initiating 'Emergency Sleep Protocol'. I will handle the reconstruction. Rest well, Young Lord.]
Woa's vision went black instantly, his body falling limp as the golden light of the Machine worked through the night, meticulously purging the toxins.
The next morning, the grand plaza of the Demonic Academy was a sea of black robes and cold steel. Hundreds of young disciples stood in rigid lines. Among them, Woa stood at the very back, his face pale but his eyes sharp. Beside him, Seol-Ah clutched her hands together, her face white with fear.
Suddenly, the air itself grew heavy. A man with hair like silver wire and eyes that pierced like daggers descended from the high balcony. This was the 10th Great Elder, Han Baek-Hee.
"The path of the Demon is not for the soft," the Elder's voice boomed, vibrating in Woa's very marrow. "If you cannot stand under the weight of my intent, you do not deserve to enter these gates."
Without warning, the Elder released his Qi Force.
It felt like a mountain had suddenly collapsed onto the plaza. Disciples screamed, their knees buckling as the invisible pressure crushed them into the stone.
[Warning: High-density Qi suppression detected.]
[Directive: Hide Host's true power. Initiating 'internal Heart' technique. I will mask your internal energy and create a pressurized shell around your body.]
'Do it,' Woa thought, gritting his teeth.
As the pressure intensified, Woa felt the Dao Machine create a silent "bubble" around him. While others were being smashed into the ground, Woa stood perfectly still. He felt nothing.
The 10th Elder's eyes narrowed. He scanned the crowd, his gaze landing on the "Trash Prince" at the back. 'The boy with no Qi... is standing? While my own grandsons are on their knees?'
The Elder gave a cold smirk and doubled the output. Then tripled it.
The plaza became a scene of horror. Young boys and girls began spitting out mouthfuls of dark blood, clutching their lower abdomens as their Qi seas threatened to rupture. Seol-Ah collapsed, her face hitting the stone.
"Enough, Tenth!" a sharp voice cut through the air. The 3rd Elder stepped forward, his hand glowing with a calming blue light to neutralize the pressure. "These are children, not enemies of the cult. If you kill the entire generation before they enter the gate, there will be no Cult left to lead."
The 10th Elder retracted his aura, looking bored. "If they die from a little pressure, they were useless anyway."
Woa looked around. The ground was slick with blood. He saw the 10th Elder looking directly at him with a suspicious, predatory glint.
'He saw me standing,' Woa thought, his heart cold. 'He's going to investigate me. If they find the Dao Machine now, I'm dead.'
"Dao Machine! I need to look like them. Now!"
[Understood. Simulating internal trauma.]
[Action: Bursting minor capillaries in the throat. Warning: This will be uncomfortable.]
Cough!
Woa buckled, a spray of crimson blood painting the stones in front of him. He clutched his stomach, his face twisting in feigned agony.
'And don't heal it,' Woa commanded internally, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 'Leave the internal bruising.'
[Healing protocols suspended for 12 hours. You are currently 'vulnerable' to medical scans, Host. A wise, if painful, tactical decision.]
The 10th Elder gave a scoff and turned away. "Hmph. Just a fluke of luck. The trash is still trash."
Underneath his blood-stained sleeve, Woa's hand was clenched into a tight fist. 'Keep thinking that, Elder,' he thought, his golden eyes hidden by his fringe. 'The next time you feel my Qi, it won't be because you're testing me.'