The elder asked Yan to stand again after Qinghe brought the pulse stone from the infirmary. He rose with care. His ribs hurt when he straightened, and the shoulder bandage pulled where Zhao’s palm had brushed it. His arms still felt full of new strength. He was proud of the result, but he could see no reason to pretend that pain had vanished.
“Why did you choose the forbidden art while you were restrained?” the elder asked.
“Because I needed a way to break the array.”
“Did you understand what the art would do?”
“I understood the complete sequence Gu gave me and that it had a cost. I did not know it would change for me.”
“Then why use it?”
“Because the bands were tightening, and the forced flow hurt. I had a choice between letting the array keep controlling me and trying the method I understood.”
Zhao stood with his arms folded. “You’re describing desperation as consent.”
