THE CELESTIAL ARCHIVE SYSTEM

Chapter 4: The Cold Rain and the First Breath

The instructions on the black page did not ask Arian to gather energy. They demanded that he destroy whatever little energy he had left. The breathing technique was called 'The Void Collapse.' It was completely backward. Every master in the academy taught students to pull Qi inward and store it safely in the chest.

This book told him to push everything out. He had to empty his lungs until they burned, and then hold that agonizing emptiness until his body thought it was dying. Arian sat on the cold floorboards. He closed his eyes and forced all the air out of his mouth in one long, harsh exhale.

His chest tightened immediately. A heavy, suffocating pressure dropped onto his shoulders. It felt exactly like a grown man standing barefoot on his ribcage. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. His heart started beating wildly, slamming against his ribs like a trapped bird trying to break out of a cage.

His brain screamed at him to take a breath. The basic human instinct to survive clawed at his throat. But Arian kept his mouth firmly shut. If he was going to remain a cripple, he would rather die right here on this dirty floor. He pushed past the thirty-second mark. His vision turned completely black, filled with tiny flashing white dots.

Right as his body reached the absolute breaking point, his mind pulled a cruel trick. It threw him backward into a memory he had tried to bury. He was sixteen again. It was pouring rain in the academy’s back garden. He was standing under a large oak tree, soaking wet.

Eshani was standing right in front of him. She was crying so hard her shoulders shook. She had just failed the inner court alchemy test for the second time. Her family had threatened to pull her out of the academy and marry her off to an old city merchant.

Arian remembered reaching out and pulling her into his chest. She felt so small and fragile back then. She gripped his shirt tightly, burying her wet face in his neck. The smell of the rain mixing with her hair was a sweet, intoxicating scent that had made Arian feel like he could conquer the world for her.

"I won't let them take you," Arian had whispered that day, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I will take double the missions. I will buy you the core-forming pills myself. We reach the top together, Eshani, or we fall together. I promise you."

She had looked up at him, her large eyes full of pure trust and deep affection. "You promise? You won't ever leave me behind?" she had asked, her voice cracking. That single moment of profound connection had permanently anchored Arian’s soul to hers. He had spent the next two years bleeding in the monster forests just to buy her those pills.

The memory snapped shut, replaced by the brutal, cold reality of the pavilion. The contrast was a physical blow. It hit him harder than Elder Harth’s lightning strike. She didn't just move on from him. She actively used his blood, his broken bones, and his sacrifice as a stepping stone. Once she reached the top, she kicked the ladder down.

The deep, venomous sting of that betrayal flooded Arian’s mind. The helpless rage boiled over. He didn't just feel sad; he felt entirely hollowed out, like a house robbed of all its furniture and left to rot. That intense emotional spike finally pushed his physical body over the edge.

He gasped loudly, breaking the Void Collapse cycle. But instead of regular air, a rush of cold, heavy energy surged straight up from the black book and directly into his open mouth. The Primordial Dust hit his throat like freezing water.

It rushed past his broken meridians. Instead of trying to flow through the shattered pathways, the strange energy acted like thick, heavy glue. It coated the broken pieces of his internal channels, forcefully welding them back together with a violent, burning heat.

Arian fell onto his hands and knees. He coughed violently, but no blood came out this time. Instead, a thick, black, foul-smelling sludge oozed from his pores. It smelled like rotten eggs and dead leaves. It was the accumulated toxins and dead Qi that had been blocking his body for three long years.

He stayed on the floor for ten whole minutes, just panting and letting the toxic sweat drip off his chin. When he finally pushed himself up, the change was immediate. The chronic, rusty pain in his chest was completely gone. His limbs felt light, yet incredibly dense.

He walked over to the wooden pedestal where Elder Harth had shoved him earlier. He placed his right hand on the solid oak edge. He didn't use any special martial art form. He simply squeezed his fingers. The thick wood groaned and then splintered into sharp pieces with a loud snap.

Arian stared at his own hand in pure disbelief. He had no Qi. The system didn't give him magical energy. It gave him raw, terrifying physical density. His bones felt like they were coated in iron. A slow, dangerous smile crept onto his face.

He looked out the window. The sun was finally setting, painting the sky in dark shades of purple and red. He remembered Eshani’s cold words perfectly. *A massive spatial rift has opened in the Western Mountains.*

Spatial rifts were rare tears in the world. They always dropped ancient weapons, high-tier herbs, or rare beast cores. The academy would definitely send all the inner disciples to secure the perimeter and harvest the loot. Eshani would be there, looking to build her foundation for the upcoming tournament.

Arian quickly stripped off his ruined, blood-stained shirt. He found a plain black tunic in his small wooden trunk and pulled it over his head. He wrapped the black book in a piece of cloth and tied it securely to his lower back. He wasn't going to sit in this dusty room and wait for Elder Harth to return.

He pushed the pavilion window open and slipped out into the cooling evening air. He knew the patrol routes of the academy guards perfectly. Three years of cleaning the grounds gave him a perfect map of the blind spots. He moved quietly through the shadows, heading straight toward the outer boundary wall.

The journey to the Western Mountains would take at least three hours on foot. He needed to get there before the inner disciples completely locked down the area. He climbed the rough stone wall of the academy with ease, his new grip strength making it feel like he was climbing a simple ladder.

He dropped down into the dense forest outside the academy grounds. The trees here were thick, blocking out the moonlight. Arian started jogging, letting his new, upgraded lungs find a steady rhythm. The forest was eerily quiet. No birds chirped, and no insects buzzed.

He reached the halfway point, crossing a small, muddy creek. He stopped suddenly. The back of his neck prickled with intense heat. The Archive pulsed violently against his lower back, sending a sharp warning directly into his brain.

Arian dropped flat to the ground instantly. A split second later, a massive, crescent-shaped blade of wind sliced right through the space where his head had just been. It cut deeply into the trunk of a massive pine tree, dropping the tree to the forest floor with a deafening crash.

Arian rolled to the side and crouched behind a large rock. His heart hammered in his ears. He peered carefully into the darkness. Slowly, a tall figure stepped out from behind the fallen tree. The man wore the black uniform of the academy's assassination squad, and his eyes were locked dead onto Arian's hiding spot.

"Elder Harth sends his regards," the assassin whispered into the dark. The man raised his hand, and three more wind blades began to form around his fingers. Arian had no weapon, no Qi, and nowhere to run.