Chapter 4:– Cold Reminder

Day 4 of Exponential Growth

Lin Xun woke to silence—but it wasn't the same silence as before.

It was clearer now. Sharper.

He could hear everything.

Not just the quiet in the cell, but the subtle shifts beneath it—the faint drip of water echoing from somewhere behind the stone walls. A low current of air weaving its way through old cracks in the corridor beyond. The torch outside still burned, but he could hear even that: the soft, uneven crackle of flame eating away at oil-soaked cloth.

He sat still, breathing slowly.

Even that sounded different. Each inhale was crisp. Every exhale quiet enough to disappear into the room without a trace.

He could hear his heartbeat.

He tried to ignore it—focus elsewhere.

His ears caught something distant. Boots.

Three sets. Not in rhythm. One heavy, two lighter. They scraped along the corridor stone—dragging slightly, a lazy pace.

Guards.

They were talking.

He couldn't hear the words at first. Just tone. One laughed. Another grunted in response.

He pressed his back lightly against the wall and angled his head. It felt instinctive—like he knew exactly where to place his body to catch the sound.

And suddenly—words.

"...kid still in there?"

"Mm. Should be. Fourth day now."

"Hah. Tough little rat, huh? Wu Zhi got all bent out of shape for nothin'."

Lin Xun froze.

The name hit his chest like a weight.

Wu Zhi.

He didn't dare move. Didn't even shift his breathing.

One of the guards clicked his tongue. "He said the brat looked at him like he was filth. Can you believe that?"

"Was probably just scared."

"Still got him locked up for it."

Silence. Then a different voice—deeper, a little slower.

"…Lin Xun, right?"

That voice.

He didn't recognize it—but it recognized him.

"Yeah. Lin Xun. Been in the sect a couple years. Never passed his first layer. Thought he dropped dead months ago."

"Hah. Quiet ones always stick around. You know how it is."

Their voices grew fainter again, steps continuing.

Lin Xun waited. Still didn't move.

His body was wound tight—muscles held in perfect stillness. Not out of panic. Just control.

He didn't realize until the silence returned that he'd stopped blinking.

He exhaled, slowly. Deep. Measured.

His name was known.

He knew this wasn't over. Not with Wu Zhi. Not with the guards. If one of them remembered his name today… others might tomorrow.

And if they saw even a hint of what he'd become—

They'd tear it out of him.

He stood quietly and stepped away from the wall, already reshaping his posture.

It was time to rehearse again.

He stood in the dim light of the cell, body loose, posture slumped just enough to appear tired. The footsteps of the guards had long since faded, but their voices still echoed in his thoughts.

Lin Xun.

They'd spoken his name like it meant nothing. A weakling who hadn't reached the first layer in two years. A joke. A ghost already forgotten.

He could use that.

But one of them remembered his face—and that was dangerous.

He crouched low, arms resting on his knees, head tilted slightly forward. He didn't move. Didn't fidget. Just let the pose settle.

Then he walked—slowly—from one side of the cell to the other.

Too smooth.

He stopped. Rolled his shoulder. Loosened his gait.

Again.

He took another step, adding a faint hitch to his left leg. A limp, not too obvious. Just enough to make someone assume an old injury. Maybe from the beating.

He hunched his shoulders further. Let his chin hang.

It felt wrong—like folding a blade in on itself. But it looked right.

He practiced walking that way for several minutes. Making sure the limp didn't look forced. Letting his breath catch a little, like someone nursing bruised ribs.

Then he tested the voice.

He hadn't spoken in days—not aloud. Not since he was thrown in. His throat was dry, his lips chapped, but the voice came out clean.

Too clean.

He coughed once. Let it scratch.

Then he whispered.

"Don't—please, I didn't…"

He stopped.

The words sounded fake to him, but that didn't matter. They'd sound real enough to someone expecting a coward.

He changed the tone.

"Sorry, Senior… I didn't see you…"

That one worked.

Soft. Trembling. No trace of strength.

He adjusted the pitch slightly and repeated it.

Then again. Until it came out flat and pathetic.

When he was sure it would pass, he let the silence return. His breath slowed. His muscles relaxed.

He sat again near the back wall and let his gaze drift toward the door.

Tomorrow, they'd open that gate. Maybe toss him back into the compound like nothing happened.

But he wouldn't be the same.

And if anyone looked too closely—

They wouldn't be walking away.

He sat back against the cold wall, muscles still aching from forcing weakness, posture heavy with practiced defeat. The cell's shadows felt deeper now—as if they were folding in, listening.

His mind was sharper than before. Thoughts connected faster, clearer. He could feel the edges of his fear dulling, replaced by something colder: calculation.

He replayed the guards' voices in his mind, each word carving its meaning deeper.

Tomorrow was the day.

He would be released.

Not as the weak boy they expected. But as something else entirely.

And if even one step, one breath, one twitch betrayed him—

He'd be destroyed before he could grow again.

His breath slowed. Calmness crept in.

Not peace. Not acceptance.

Preparedness.

Lin Xun closed his eyes.

The doubling wasn't just strength or speed anymore.

It was becoming every part of him.

And tomorrow, the real test would begin.