The screaming started at dawn.
Zǔ Zhòu paused in his morning meditation, counting the seconds between agonized wails. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Perfect intervals—the pressure points had activated exactly as designed, creating cascading meridian failure triggered by the sunrise's yang energy mixing with wedding joy.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" Liu Hao's fiancée's voice cut through the morning air. She'd stayed the night—a minor scandal overlooked due to their engagement. Her presence had accelerated the emotional resonance, making the meridian inflammation worse.
Zǔ Zhòu dressed carefully, arranging his expression into appropriate concern. By the time he reached Liu Hao's courtyard, a crowd had gathered. His cousin lay twisted on the ground, meridians visibly bulging beneath skin as qi ran wild through damaged channels.
"What happened?" Liu Tiansheng demanded, Core Formation presence immediately taking control.
"I don't—we were—" the fiancée sobbed. "He woke happy, talking about wedding preparations. Then suddenly he screamed and—and—"
Liu Hao's body convulsed. His cultivation base was tearing itself apart, Foundation Establishment power with nowhere to flow. The seventeen pressure points had created the perfect storm—inflammation that fed on positive emotion, reaching critical mass during peak happiness.
"Meridian deviation," Elder Feng diagnosed, kneeling beside the writhing form. "Severe. Multiple channel collapse. How is this possible? He was stable yesterday!"
"I... I fell..." Liu Hao gasped between screams. "Night practice... pushed too hard... wedding stress..."
Beautiful. Even in agony, the mind created explanations for inexplicable suffering. Liu Hao genuinely believed he'd caused this through overtraining, never suspecting the caring cousin who'd warned him just in time.
"We need the medical pavilion," someone urged.
"No time," Elder Feng said grimly. "Moving him could complete the collapse. His cultivation will cripple permanently unless—"
"I might help."
Everyone turned to Zǔ Zhòu. He stepped forward, projecting nervous determination. "The temporal manual contains healing applications. Meridian restoration through paradox circulation. I've been studying the theory..."
"Theory isn't practice," Liu Tiansheng said sharply. "One mistake could kill him."
"He's dying anyway," Zǔ Zhòu countered, letting desperation color his voice. "Please, Uncle. Let me try. Liu Hao showed me kindness—I owe him this attempt."
The patriarch studied him for long seconds while Liu Hao's screams grew weaker. Finally, he nodded. "Elder Feng will supervise. One wrong move and we stop immediately."
Zǔ Zhòu knelt beside his cousin, placing hands on specific points—not the original seventeen, but their sympathetic opposites. To observers, it would appear he was desperately trying to redirect qi flow. In reality, he was carefully modulating the damage.
"Temporal Restoration Palm," he announced, naming a technique that didn't exist. "Borrowing future health to heal present damage."
He channeled qi in complex patterns, making it appear tremendously difficult. Sweat beaded on his forehead—genuine from the effort of appearing to struggle. Beneath his palms, he felt Liu Hao's meridians responding. Not healing, but stabilizing at precisely calculated damage.
"It's working," Elder Feng breathed. "The deviation is slowing."
Indeed it was. Zǔ Zhòu carefully guided the collapse, preserving enough function for basic cultivation while ensuring permanent impairment. Liu Hao would keep his Foundation Establishment realm but never advance again. He could cultivate enough to stay healthy but would experience pain whenever approaching breakthrough.
The perfect balance of hope and limitation.
"Almost... there..." Zǔ Zhòu gasped, adding artistic trembling. "The pattern is... stabilizing..."
Liu Hao's screams faded to whimpers. His meridians stopped their violent collapse, settling into new, damaged configurations. Alive. Functional. Forever crippled.
"Remarkable," Elder Feng said, checking the patient's condition. "You've saved his cultivation. Not fully—the damage is extensive—but he'll maintain Foundation Establishment."
"Thank you," Liu Hao whispered, tears streaming. "Wei'er... you saved me..."
"Rest now, Cousin." Zǔ Zhòu squeezed his shoulder gently, activating secondary points that would ensure gratitude remained strong. "Recovery will take time."
Liu Tiansheng's expression mixed suspicion with approval. "Well done, Wei'er. Your studies prove their worth. Elder Feng, investigate how this deviation occurred. Such sudden collapse suggests external factors."
The investigation began immediately. Every aspect of Liu Hao's routine was examined. His training ground, his pills, his recent activities. Several elders with detection abilities scanned for poison, curses, or sabotage.
They found nothing, because there was nothing to find. Seventeen pressure points activated by specific emotional resonance left no spiritual traces. The "fallen during practice" story held perfectly—cultivation accidents happened, especially to those pushing hard before major life events.
"Meridian weakness in the heart channels," the medical elder concluded. "Possibly hereditary, triggered by emotional intensity. Young love combined with cultivation stress created the perfect storm."
Zǔ Zhòu hid his smile. He'd planted that exact theory during his wine visit, making Liu Hao paranoid about hereditary conditions. Now the investigation confirmed the victim's own fears.
That afternoon, Liu Hao's fiancée sought him out.
"Young Master Wei," she bowed deeply. "Thank you. Without your intervention..." She couldn't finish, tears threatening.
"Family helps family," he replied humbly. "Though his recovery will be challenging. The meridian damage means he'll experience pain during emotional peaks. Joy itself might hurt him now."
Her face crumbled. "Our wedding night..."
"Can still happen. But carefully. Perhaps I could provide ongoing treatment? Weekly sessions to manage the pain, help him find stability within limitations?"
"You would do that?" Hope bloomed in her eyes. "After he mocked your training?"
"He didn't mock—he tried to encourage. His kindness deserves repayment." The lie tasted particularly sweet. "I'll help however possible."
She left weeping with gratitude, never suspecting she'd thanked her fiancé's torturer for the privilege of extended suffering.
That evening, Zǔ Zhòu visited Liu Hao privately. His cousin lay in bed, pallid but conscious, cultivation base flickering weakly.
"Wei'er," Liu Hao managed a ghost of his former smile. "I owe you everything."
"You owe me nothing. Though I am curious—what triggered such sudden deviation?"
"I... I was so happy. Thinking about the wedding, about her. Then the pain hit like heaven's judgment." He laughed bitterly. "The healers say emotion itself triggered it. My joy became poison."
"Tragic irony. But you're alive, cultivation intact. Many would call that fortune."
"Fortune?" Liu Hao's eyes held new shadows. "I'll never advance. Every moment of happiness brings pain. How is that fortune?"
"Because you still have happiness to feel pain from," Zǔ Zhòu suggested gently. "Would you rather feel nothing at all?"
The question hit perfectly. Liu Hao's face crumpled as he realized the terrible choice—suffer for joy or surrender it entirely.
"I'll help you," Zǔ Zhòu promised. "Weekly treatments to manage the pain. Techniques to find balance. You can still have your wedding, your love. Just... carefully."
"You're too kind," Liu Hao whispered. "After I laughed at your efforts..."
"Your laughter came from joy, not malice. That joy is worth preserving, even if it must be... moderated now."
He left Liu Hao clinging to that thread of hope. The treatments would help—enough to function, never enough to heal. Each session would reinforce the gratitude, the dependency, the exquisite balance between hope and suffering.
"Sustainable evil achieved," he reported to his anchor servant later. "Liu Hao lives, crippled but grateful. His joy survives but causes pain. His fiancée depends on me for his treatment. The family sees me as compassionate healer."
"The investigation found nothing?"
"How could it? The technique leaves no trace except the damage it causes. They've concluded hereditary weakness activated by emotion—exactly what I suggested beforehand."
"Elegant frame."
"Indeed. And the best part? He'll thank me every week as I carefully maintain his suffering. His gratitude becomes part of the torture."
Zǔ Zhòu made notes on the technique's success. The seventeen pressure points, the emotional activation, the precise damage calculation—all performed flawlessly. Liu Hao would live decades in carefully maintained misery, every moment of joy shadowed by pain, every treatment reinforcing his dependence.
"Tomorrow, competition training resumes," he decided. "My reputation as desperate student enhanced by compassionate healer. Liu Feng will hear how I saved our cousin—another pressure on his fear of being merely strong rather than significant."
The crippling had been kind. The kindness had been crippling.
And Liu Hao would spend his wedding night discovering that his savior had crafted the perfect hell—one that looked like mercy to everyone watching.