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Ayomide's Novels, Pipeline Agbura, Yenagoa (2026)

06/06/2026

Chapter 125 _ Condense and Expand

Vrath sensed it. A sudden pressure — terrifying enough to tingle its very existence.

"What's that about?" It turned — and then it saw it. A burst of purple light towering toward the heavens.

'Isn't that where I killed that human?' It asked itself — and at once dashed toward the location.

---

At a different location, two Master Realm Asura clan members also sensed a terrifying amount of pressure as they saw two lights rising from the same direction. One was as white as snow. The other was blazing red.

"Quick... Someone is awakening." The first said to the other.

"That's the location of the Ancient Frost Stream." The other replied — and they rushed there.

---

At another location, the elders were setting up an array to summon the Northern Gladiator when they sensed the terrifying pressure, followed by a golden earthen light.

"What?" Elder Zhan asked.

"This..." Snyf sniffed in.

"This is someone breaking through to the Master Realm...." Elder Hestruin completed. "Fast — set up the array... we have to find the source."

---

Judas and the team were deep in their exchanges when they saw a blue light towering toward the heavens.

The Asura clan members were drawn toward it immediately — abandoning their current opponents without hesitation.

"What's happening?" Fatso asked.

"I have no idea." Cleo stated.

"Someone is awakening.. and not just an ordinary person." Judas replied.

"Have you seen Socrates?" George asked.

"He'll be fine.. we need to check this out." Cleo replied.

"Disciples of the Northern Gladiator — on my lead." Judas commanded, leading the disciples after the Asura members.

---

Shall I continue?"Golden light representing Earth.... This is due to the accumulation of my spiritual energy that nurtured your body and the training your body has gone through all these years." Sun Wukong stared at the shining golden light.

When suddenly — Plop.

Another light turned on. His eyes widened as he saw the color of it. Violet. Extremely violet and shining, forming a hole above the water's surface.

The pressure it gave off caused Sun Wukong to shift backward, staying well away from Socrates.

"Awakening a secondary attribute.... The violet light representing poison.... The Son of Trueblood is a dual elemental Master with a primary and secondary element..." Sun Wukong's eyes were still wide with shock when suddenly Socrates screamed out loudly.

"AAAARRRHH..."

Two of his acupoints burst open as a terrifying amount of energy rushed out of his body.

White by the left. Blazing orange by the right.

Sun Wukong almost lost his sanity. "What the heck is this??? The Yin-Yang energy.... the golden energy, the violet energy..."

"What's Socrates doing?"

Then suddenly the water burst upward as a blue terrifying energy overwhelmed the rest.

The next instant — the purple energy took over.

The next moment — the golden energy was fighting for control.

CRACK****

A line of cracks appeared across Socrates' face as the five different energies fought against each other.

"YOU FOOL.. COME LEND ME A HAND...." Lady Achillia's voice almost destroyed Sun Wukong's ears as he rushed back inside Socrates' body.

There he saw Lady Achillia seated on the ground of the island in a lotus position — her hands constantly moving, her gaze fixed on the items atop the sea.

Five different energy cores. Fighting against each other.

A terrible war destroying Socrates' body from the outside.

"The crazy amount of energy has made him lose consciousness.... Supply him with energy or he's going to self-destruct..." Lady Achillia said — and for the first time her voice carried something close to panic.

Sun Wukong watched.

Lady Achillia had never been this concerned about Socrates. She had helped him before — no question — but had never shown this side of herself.

And Sun Wukong knew the answer.

Before, Lady Achillia had deemed Socrates unworthy. But now — if Socrates managed to break through and survive this, he would be a useful pawn to her.

Who doesn't value something useful?

'Tsk... I just replenished my energy... do I have to waste it again..' Having no choice, Sun Wukong sat down and began releasing his spiritual energy into the energy cores that were fighting against each other.

But Lady Achillia's energy and Sun Wukong's were both of earth — and they strengthened the golden energy core, which was now able to fight toe to toe with the violet core that was corroding and dissolving it. The blue core took advantage of their plight and corroded the two, turning them into liquid form — but then the blazing core and the frost white core refused to complement each other, attacking and attacking without ceasing.

Lady Achillia and Sun Wukong tried to input more energy when a terrifying pressure slammed them both — expelling them from Socrates' body instantly.

The two souls were sent into the cold river.

At that moment Socrates regained consciousness.

The strength of the three formed cores was now equal — thrashing around his sea of consciousness, destroying his organs from the inside.

Bleh. Bleh.

He vomited blood as his body shook involuntarily.

'I might die if this continues.... Then I might as well risk it.'

Socrates formed hand signs as he opened another acupoint. Then another.

"Yin Energy — ABSORB.." He cried out — and from deep inside the dark water, threads of energy rushed into his body.

The energy poured in at a million outputs, surging toward the white frost core. The dungeon core of the Iceflame dungeon carried two types — the white core of Yin cold energy and the blazing red core of Yang energy.

Since it was Yin energy Socrates was absorbing — the white core dominated. It swallowed all the others one by one.

The blazing fire core.

The violet poison core.

The golden earth core.

The blue water core.

Forming a beautiful and heaven-defying Dantian.

"RUN.... HIDE.. SOMETHING TERRIFYING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN..." Lady Achillia warned as she leeched her soul onto Sun Wukong, who quickly summoned his battle armor and rushed deeper into the water.

At that moment a terrifying amount of energy tore out of Socrates' body — overwhelming, condensing in a blinding light.

Then Socrates' blue eyes opened as his head rang.

"AAARHHH..." A vicious scream tore out of him — and then the energy expanded.

Condensed and expanded.

Condensed and expanded.

BOOM.

It escalated — and every living and non-living thing within a radius of one thousand meters was frozen

05/06/2026

Chapter 124 _ Speed Breakthrough
Socrates was conscious and at the same time unconscious.
He was awake and still asleep...
His mind was there but was never there.,

He wasn't sinking anymore as his body subconsciously sat in a lotus position at the very bottom of the cold water ..

This water that has been in the underground for long beneath the layers of ice was filled with strong Yin Energy...

The Yin energy is aldi known as the cold energy.

Socrates both hands were placed on his laps as he frantically absorbed Yin energy from the underground currents...

CRISP*

FIRST STAGE QI CONDENSATION REALM ...

It happened in just a minute as the water above him was compressed..

Before the next minute, another layer of water ripped apart followed by another layer as the water body churn violently...

The water was dark but thread of visible energy currents could be seen passing through it....,

CRUNCH*

MID STAGE QI CONDENSATION REALM...

The flow of the water shifted without Socrates doing anything as now the energy he absorbed was 10 times faster than before ..

But then something was happening.... Ice started spurting out of Socrates feet and hand. His body was freezing due to the amount of cold yin energy he was absorbing....

Strong energy that has not been filtered yet ...

In the next two minutes, all his whole legs turned into a concave of ice.

BURST*

PEAK STAGE ENERGY CONDENSATION REALM..

But Socrates isn't concerned about that... It was as if he is not even noticing anything as his absorption was now 100 times faster than before ...

His body freeze up to his neck in less than two minutes as it was covered in layers of frost which keeps expanding but despite that, the Yin energy kept entering and penetrating his body....

His whole head .... Everything was freeze in the next moment...

The Yin energy having penetrating his internal organs...

When suddenly.....

SCATTER***

The whole Frost was destroyed instantly as a burst of energy tore through the layers of the cold river..... The energy was golden in color as it split apart the river tiring through to the surface as even the water body was finding it difficult to escape...

FIRST LAYER FOUNDATION ESTABLISHMENT REALM

it was too fast ... This has never happened before ...

Someone reaching Foundation Establishment realm in less than ten minutes...

But thinking about everything Socrates has gone through in the past ....

It wasn't impossible...

Socrates was now absorbing the Yin energy a thousand times faster ...

The abundant amount of Spiritual energy entered his Sea of Consciousness as both Lady Achillia and Sun Wukong was forced awake....

"This bastard... He managed to heal his meridians..." Sun Wukong screamed in jot and ecstasy as he frantically absorbed energy that was penetrating into the Sea of Consciousness..

While Lady Achillia don't need to absorb as the energy gathered around her instead...

"He finally makes himself useful... Then I'll impart it to him ... The Heavenly Toppling Art...." Lady Achillia stated and Sun Wukong eyes widened ..

"The Heavenly Toppling Art... Isn't the technique that belongs to the first King of Gladiators _ KING SPARTACUS.." Sun Wukong was beyond shock.

"Do you know who Gladiators are?" Lady Achillia asked...

"Gladiators are body Cultivators... We fight mainly with our body instead of energy....mostly earth attribute..." Sun Wukong replied ..

"Socrates is something beyond that ..that's why he's the perfect one to inherit the art of the Legendary King of Gladiators _ KING SPARTACUS."

Sun Wukong eyes shine with greed as he turned and take a look at Socrates just to see that the Cultivator had been frozen completely...

"Oh no..,The Yin energy is penetrating is internal organs. .what are we going to do about it ?" Sun Wukong panick...

"Get your arse out there and get him the Golden Token...it contained a large amount of Yang energy..." Lady Achillia told Sun Wukong whose eyes widened...

"So you want me to enter that water ? That cold freezing. ..."

"HMPPH..." Lady Achillia widened her eyes at him as a sudden amount of pressure was released under a second ..

This scared The Monkey King that he hurriedly departed from the Sea of Consciousness..

'Crazy old hag ..you think that I fear you...Had it been I wasn't locked up for a thousand years which has derogated my strength and my golden staff that isn't with me.....tsk tsk...' Sun Wukong lamented as he came out of Socrates body...

The Yin energy rushed towards him immediately when he expelled it with his energy..

"How on Heaven's name is he managing to cultivate under this condition...this is death wish ..I can't stay here for a minute..." Sun Wukong frantically searched for the golden token when he found it and brought it to Socrates before rushing back inside of him.

Placing it atop his frozen head when at that moment, Lady Achillia imparted the technique directly inside his brain ..

Signals upon signals flashed through his central nervous system as his hypothalamus sent signal waves to his endocrine system which condensed hormones into his Master glands....

The master glands also known as the Putiary gland now released the hormone directly into his body as it pe*****ted every cells...every neuron link and then his meridians...

BURST ..

HIS ENERGY BURST FORWARD FROM THE LOWER PART OF HIS ABDOMEN...A GOLDEN ENERGY THAT SCATTERED ALL THE ICE THAT FREEZE HIM AS AT THAT MOMENT, HIS EYES FLASHED OPEN ...

Due to the crazy amount of Yin energy, Socrates hair has turned from red to white, even his eye brows were now white....

His eyes flung open as he raised his hands weaving a hand sign that had been imprinted in his memory..

Golden hot yang energy surge out of the golden token as they cascaded in him with full force while he weave his hand signs ....

The Heavenly Toppling Technique aligning with even his muscle tone..

SECOND LAYER FOUNDATION ESTABLISHMENT REALM...

CRISP...

The Yin Energy has seen a competitor...it was slow before but not anymore... The cold energy was zealous of the external factor and started penetrating Socrates more frantically that five magic apertures opened instantly...

Ten meridians pathway was formed instantly as energy now flow directly into Socrates dantian .

MID STAGE FOUNDATION ESTABLISHMENT REALM.,

It was like a jump... As a single golden light lit up Socrates body ....

Then followed by another....then another...

Cultivation that takes decades to reach ...Socrates was reaching it in an hour....

If anyone hear this thing , they might likely kill themselves ..

Sun Wukong almost spit blood but Lady Achillia knew for sure that Socrates has earned it...

NiNe Stage Heavenly Toppling Art....

BREAKTHROUGH...

PEAK STAGE FOUNDATION ESTABLISHMENT REALM*

The Yin energy retreated instantly as the golden token shattered into pieces....

They was no more energy penetrating into his body ...

"He has finally reached his limits..." Lady Achillia sighed...

" He did well .... This has never happened in history before .." Sun Wukong praised when suddenly Socrates opened his mouth...

"Not enough...." A digital card came out of his belt as he pulled out an item from it....

Sun Wukong recognized the item instantly.... It was the dungeon core of the Ice-Flame dungeon...

"SOCRATES..you're in an enemy zone.... cultivating and awakening the attributes to become a Master will take years if not a decade ...there's absolutely no time for such movement." Sun Wukong warned..

" This brat is getting ahead of himself..tsk ." Lady Achillia snorted...

"And who tell you I want to cultivate it ...." Socrates replied as he opened his mouth and without hesitation shoved the full dungeon core into his mouth ....

"AHHHH .." Sun Wukong jumped out of his sea of Consciousness even Lady Achillia fell from her throne...

This Brat wants to kill himself......

05/06/2026

Chapter 123 — The Frost Castle
*
*
(A Sky Pavilion Disciple POV)

He had never seen a castle before.

Not a real one. The structures back in the outer city were buildings — functional, frost covered, built for occupation rather than statement. The Frost Castle was something else. It rose above everything in the inner city the way a fact rises above argument — not competing, just present, the scale of it settling into the chest before the eyes finished processing it.

He was Sky Pavilion. White robe. Three months since his induction. His name wasn't important tonight — Elder Zhan had said as much during the briefing. Tonight you are the formation. Tonight you are the white robe. Not a person. A position.

He had understood that.

He understood it less now that he was inside the outer courtyard and the minions were real.

---

The outer gate had come off its hinges like it weighed nothing.

Elder Hestruin's palm. One strike. The gate traveling backward into the courtyard beyond it and hitting the frost covered ground with a sound that rolled through the inner city and came back as echo. He had felt it in his sternum before he heard it with his ears.

Then they moved through.

The outer courtyard was wide — broader than it looked from outside, the frost covered ground extending from the gate to the inner gate in a distance that ate the formations spread. The ceiling above it was open to the underworld's pale atmosphere. The walls on either side were Asura construction — thick, ancient, the stone of them a different quality from anything built by human hands. Smoother. Denser. The frost on the walls thicker at the base than the top as if it had been accumulating from the ground up for a very long time.

The first minion came through the inner gate making the sound.

He had been briefed on the sound. He had been told it was an alarm — a biological response, the Asura equivalent of a warning call. Knowing what it was didn't make it easier to stand in front of. The sound traveled through the stone of the courtyard and up through his boots and into his legs before it reached his ears and by the time his ears processed it his body had already decided it needed to do something.

He did something.

His sword came out.

---

The first exchange happened fast.

The minions came through the inner gate in a wave — not organized, not tactical, just numerous, their broad grey-white bodies filling the inner gate's width as they pushed through. They were three meters tall at the small end. Their skin looked like weathered stone and moved like skin — the combination of it wrong in a specific way that the eyes kept trying to correct and couldn't.

The formation hit them in the middle of the courtyard.

He was in the second row — his job to support the first row's advance, cover retreats, fill gaps. He had trained for this. The techniques he had built over three years of cultivation were designed for exactly this kind of coordinated exchange.

The first row hit the minion line and the line held.

The impact of it traveled back through the formation — disciples in the first row pushed backward, their techniques absorbed by the minions' bodies the way stone absorbs rain. Not deflected. Absorbed. The energy going in and disappearing into the grey-white mass.

"JOINTS." Judas' voice from somewhere ahead. "UNDER THE ARMS. BEHIND THE KNEES."

He filed that immediately.

A minion broke through the first row — one of the larger ones, its broad body simply moving through the gap two first-row disciples had left when they stumbled — and came into the second row. Directly toward him.

He moved sideways — the minion's reaching arm passing through the space he had just been — and drove his sword into the joint behind its knee from the side. The blade found something softer than the outer surface. The minion made the sound — shorter, higher — and the knee buckled.

He hit it again before it recovered.

Then again.

It went down.

He stood over it breathing hard and the formation moved around him and he moved with it.

---

The inner gate opened twenty minutes into the fight.

He was in the middle of an exchange when it happened — sword against a minion's reaching arm, the blade finding the joint under the arm on the third attempt — and the sound of the inner gate opening carried across the courtyard even through the noise of three hundred people fighting simultaneously.

Everyone felt the change.

The seven core members came through side by side — filling the inner gate's width completely, the scale of them different from the minions the way weather is different from rain. They were the same grey-white but denser. Taller. The frost that clung to the minions was absent from them. They moved with the patience of things that had never been in a hurry because nothing had ever required it.

The formation's energy output spiked immediately — every cultivator in the courtyard reading the new presence and responding — and the combined pressure of three hundred Foundation Establishment disciples pushing forward hit the seven core members in the middle of the courtyard.

The seven core members walked through it.

Not through it like it wasn't there. Through it like it was weather — present, noted, insufficient.

He watched a sky blue robe disciple drive a full output energy slash directly at the nearest core member's chest. The core member looked at it. Raised one hand. The slash dispersed.

It looked at the disciple.

"Annoying." It said.

It walked into him.

He moved — cutting sideways, pulling two disciples with him, the core member's path carrying it through the space they had just been. He found the gap on its left flank — the place between its arm and its torso where the angle was awkward for the core member to cover — and drove his sword into it.

The blade held.

Didn't pe*****te. But held — the edge finding purchase in the gap, the resistance of it telling him there was something there worth targeting. He drove harder. The core member's arm came across and caught him — not a strike, just the arm moving to cover the gap — and the force of the contact sent him three meters sideways across the frost covered ground.

He got up.

Found the gap again.

---

An hour in and the courtyard was a different place.

The frost covered ground broken in sections. Bodies — more white and blue than grey-white but bodies on both sides, the minions going down in numbers under the formation's coordinated pressure while the core members moved through the courtyard taking the concentrated output of dozens of disciples at a time and answering it with single strikes.

He had found his rhythm.

Not fighting core members — surviving near them, supporting the disciples trying to fight them, finding the gaps that opened in the chaos around those exchanges and working them. A minion occupied with a core member's fight. Two disciples struggling with one that had broken the formation's coverage. A gap in the left flank where a serpent was threading in from the inner courtyard.

He moved between all of it.

His sword was doing what it was built to do. His techniques were spending at a rate he was tracking — sixty percent reserves, then fifty, then forty as the hour passed. The cold of the courtyard pressed in from the walls and the frost covered ground and the open atmosphere above.

He didn't think about anything except the next exchange.

That was the training. That was the three years. Not the techniques themselves but the ability to be inside the fight completely — no past exchange, no future one, just what was directly in front of him and what it required.

What was directly in front of him required everything he had.

He gave it.

---

Then the ground shook.

Singular. Deep. Traveling upward through the stone beneath the frost and arriving in his feet before it arrived anywhere else.

He was mid-exchange — sword against a minion's reaching arm — and the shockwave made his footing uncertain for a single moment. He compensated. Kept the blade in the joint.

Then it came again.

Deeper. Sustained. Building from somewhere beneath the castle's foundations — from somewhere below the floor of the world as he understood it.

Then the light.

Golden. Tearing upward through the inner courtyard floor in a column that hit the underworld's atmosphere and kept going — the light of it throwing shadows across the frost covered walls that the underworld's pale atmosphere had never produced.

He stopped.

Everyone stopped.

The minion in front of him stopped.

The entire outer courtyard — three hundred disciples, seven core members, the remaining minions, everything — went still in the specific way that everything goes still when something happens that nobody planned for and nobody has a category for.

The golden column held.

Then expanded.

He looked at it from the middle of the courtyard with his sword in his hand and his reserves at thirty percent and the bodies of the fight around him — and felt the pressure of whatever was building beneath the Frost Castle pressing against the underworld's atmosphere from below.

Both sides began moving toward it.

Whatever it's ... Whoever it's ..... Will surely disrupt the balance of the battle....

04/06/2026

Readers: Author shebi you say it's only Sixth Grade pill that can heal Socrates meridian.. How come poison heal his meridians?
Me: The poison is it a pill or not ?
Readers: it's a pill.. but a fourth grade poison pill..
ME: Oya mix it with a Seven colored rainbow poison .. that's like 11 grade pill.. ☺️
Readers;

04/06/2026

Chapter 122 — The Deep

The water was dark.

Not the darkness of a room with no light but the darkness of a place that had never needed light — the specific absolute black of depth, of distance from any surface, of water that had been sitting in the same place since before the underworld took its current shape.

Socrates sank through it.

Not falling — sinking, the way things sink when they've stopped fighting the descent. His white robe spreading around him as he went down, the golden token at his belt catching nothing because there was nothing to catch, Bloodsucker still in his loosened grip by reflex alone.

The Seven Colored Rainbow Poison was still working.

He could feel it — or had been able to feel it, before the feeling itself became unreliable. The dissolution. The cellular breakdown that Vrath had described with such professional warmth. It moved through him in waves that had been getting closer together since he hit the water, the intervals between them shrinking, the body's resistance to each wave lower than the resistance to the one before.

Seven minutes, Vrath had said.

He didn't know how many had passed.

---

Then the Web-Plant poison felt it.

The webs that Siphon's pill had threaded through Socrates' internal system — through the spaces where his meridians had once been, through the connective tissue between his organs, through the blood pathways that carried everything his body needed to keep being a body — felt the Seven Colored Rainbow Poison arrive in the same space.

And responded.

Not with submission. Not with cooperation. With the blind territorial aggression of a poison that had claimed its host and recognized an intruder claiming the same territory.

The webs contracted.

The rainbow poison pushed back.

Inside Socrates' body — in the dark of the deep water, in the space between his skin and his bones where the two poisons now occupied the same system simultaneously — something began that had no name in human medicine or cultivation theory because it had never been observed in a subject that survived long enough to describe it.

War.

---

The Web-Plant webs were structured — methodical, the product of a Grade 4 poison refined by an expert over years. They had threaded themselves through Socrates' broken meridian pathways with precision, using the empty channels the way water uses riverbed, finding every available passage and filling it.

The Seven Colored Rainbow Poison was ancient. Unrefined. The product of something that predated the classification system that gave it its grade. It didn't thread. It dissolved. It approached the web-plant webs the way fire approaches ice — not intelligently, not strategically, just with the absolute commitment of something that dissolved things and had found more things to dissolve.

The webs began to break down.

Strand by strand — the rainbow poison eating through the web-plant's structure, the careful architecture of Siphon's pill coming apart under the assault of something older and less patient than itself.

But dissolution required energy.

And the web-plant webs, breaking down, released their own energy into the system — the stored potential of a Grade 4 poison discharging as its structure failed, flooding the pathways it had occupied with a sudden violent output that the rainbow poison hadn't accounted for because the rainbow poison didn't account for things.

The two energy outputs met.

In the broken meridian pathways. In the empty channels that had been dead since the pill destroyed them years ago — the channels that had been filled first by the web-plant webs and were now filled by both poisons simultaneously as they tore each other apart.

The discharge had nowhere to go.

So it went through the only available direction.

Forward. Through the pathways themselves. The toxic energy of two poisons destroying each other forced along the dead meridian channels like water forced through a blocked pipe under pressure — and the pressure was enough, and the channels were there, and the energy moved through them whether the channels were ready or not.

The first meridian pathway cracked open.

Not healed. Not restored. Forced — the channel walls that had been sealed shut since the day Socrates killed Alee blowing open under the combined pressure of two poisons that had stopped fighting each other long enough to accidentally agree on a direction.

The energy moved through it.

Then the second pathway.

The third.

Each one opening under the pressure, the toxic discharge carving through the blockages the way floodwater carves through packed earth — not gently, not surgically, with the brute indiscriminate force of something that had built up too much pressure in too small a space and had found a release.

The pain of it would have been extraordinary if Socrates had been conscious enough to feel it.

He wasn't.

He sank through the dark water and his internal system tore itself open and rebuilt itself in the same motion and he felt none of it.

---

The water essence felt it.

It's the dew...— absorbed months ago, nurtured unknowingly by the spiritual energy of two ancient beings living in his sea of consciousness. It had been sitting in him quietly, formless, unactivated, waiting for a condition that hadn't yet presented itself. Socrates absorbed this dew when he reversed the flow of the stream into the well when serving his punishment under the Sky Pavilion Elder...

The condition presented itself.

Deep water. The real thing — not surface water, not dungeon water, the deep water of the underworld that had been accumulating since before the ranking system existed, since before the Frost Castle was built, since before the Asura clan claimed this place as theirs.

The essence recognized it.

The way a fragment of something recognizes the whole it came from. The way a coal recognizes fire. Not with thought — with resonance, the physical fact of like calling to like across the boundary of Socrates' skin.

The water moved.

Not the current — the water itself, the deep water around him, responding to the essence it recognized inside him. It pressed inward against his skin with something that wasn't pressure in the mechanical sense but pressure in the intentional sense — directed, purposeful, the deep water of the underworld giving back to the fragment of itself that had been living inside a human body what the fragment needed to complete what was happening inside it.

The water drew the poison out.

Through the skin — the process slow and total, the deep water accepting the toxic discharge that the clashing poisons were producing and pulling it outward, through the pores, through the damaged surface cells, drawing the Seven Colored Rainbow Poison and the disintegrating Web-Plant webs both out of Socrates' system in the same slow continuous flow that the water used for everything.

Patient. Thorough.

Inside — the poisons destroying each other and the energy forcing the meridians open.

Outside — the water drawing the remnants out as fast as they were produced.

Two directions of the same process meeting somewhere in the middle of Socrates' body and completing each other.

---

Time passed in the deep water.

There was no way to measure it. The darkness didn't change. The depth didn't change. The cold didn't change — the specific absolute cold of water that had never been warm pressing against Socrates' skin with the same even temperature it pressed against everything it had ever touched.

His body changed.

Slowly. In stages that had no dramatic announcement — no flash of light, no surge of energy visible from outside. Just the internal process completing itself increment by increment, the poisons neutralizing, the meridian pathways opening one by one, the water essence guiding what the water drew out so that the drawing out was complete rather than partial.

The broken meridians of Socrates the Son of Trueblood — sealed shut since the day he paid with them for his sister's life — opened.

SOCRATES THE SON OF TRUEBLOOD MERIDIANS HAS BEEN FIXED IN THE MOST MIRACULOUS WAY POSSIBLE..

AT THAT MOMENT,HIS EYES OPENED UP..

BLUE FLASH OF LIGHT THAT ILLUMINATE THE DARK WATER AND THEN A SURGE OF ENERGY BURSTS OUT OF HIS BODY TEARING OUT OF THE WATER....

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