Rhys's fingers tightened around the cool crystal of the primary Dew container. Success! He had it – the complete yield of the Moonpetal Bloom's peak cycle, plus the dropped vial. But the triumph lasted only a microsecond. Borin, recovering with astonishing speed, was already lunging, his face grim determination, sword whistling through the air aimed directly at Rhys's exposed side. Lyra, emerging from the dissipating mist, let out a furious cry, raw Earth Qi gathering around her fists for a devastating close-range strike. Trapped between two enraged cultivators, holding the prize, Rhys knew he was out of options, out of tricks, out of time.
Then, the dome changed.
It wasn't a sound Rhys heard, but a feeling – a high-frequency pulse that vibrated through the very air, through the stone beneath his feet, through the Aether itself. It was sharp, penetrating, and utterly alien. The salvaged light stick tucked in Boulder's pack instantly flickered and died. More alarmingly, the potent Earth Qi radiating from Lyra's fists and Borin's sword faltered, dimming noticeably for a critical instant, the energy flow stuttering as if hitting an invisible barrier. Even the Moonpetal Dew within the crystal vials reacted, pulsing with a brief, discordant internal light.
Lyra cried out, stumbling, clutching her head, her Qi circulation thrown into momentary chaos. Borin groaned, his sword strike wavering, his disciplined control momentarily shattered by the invasive pulse disrupting his internal energy pathways. Boulder, relying on pure physical strength, seemed less affected but grunted in discomfort. Elara, still dazed near the entrance, whimpered and sank back to the ground.
Rhys felt the pulse too, a faint pressure against his senses, a slight disorientation, but crucially, his Aetherium Weaving, drawing on external environmental energy and balanced internally by his completed foundation, was not directly disrupted like their internal Qi. The effect on him was negligible.
And then he felt it again – the cold, analytical touch inside his mind. Stronger this time. Not painful, but intensely focused, mapping his reaction to the pulse, analyzing the Aetheric signature of the Dew he now held, cross-referencing it with his own complex energy signature. The Watchers.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. This wasn't random interference. The pulse was targeted. Designed specifically to disrupt traditional Qi cultivation and basic technology, while leaving his own unconventional path relatively untouched. They hadn't just observed; they had intervened. They had disabled his opponents at the critical moment, ensuring he acquired the Moonpetal Dew.
Why? To study him further? To see what he would do with the Dew? To analyze the interaction between his unique energy system and the pure Aetheric essence? He felt a surge of icy fear far colder than the Dew itself. He wasn't a player in this confrontation; he was the experiment. This 'assistance' wasn't a rescue; it was manipulation on a terrifying scale.
He reacted instantly, visceral survival instinct overriding any other thought. This manipulated victory was a trap. He shoved the primary Dew container and the smaller vial securely into the reinforced pouch at his belt, alongside the other catalysts and the data shards. He couldn't afford to analyze or hesitate.
While Lyra and Borin were still reeling, grappling with their disrupted Qi and the disorienting effects of the pulse, Rhys poured a large fraction of his remaining Aether into a desperate, powerful Weaving. He combined the crushing force of Earth with the propulsive blast of Air – not as an attack, but as pure environmental demolition. He targeted the weakened root systems and crumbling ferrocrete structure supporting a large section of the dome's overgrown interior wall, directly between him and the recovering cultivators.
With a deafening groan and screech of tortured materials, a huge section of the wall collapsed inwards. Thick vines snapped, chunks of rock and metal rained down, and clouds of choking dust and spores filled the air, creating an instant, impassable barrier.
"Boulder, NOW!" Rhys roared, already sprinting towards the escape route they'd planned – a breach in the dome wall hidden behind a curtain of phosphorescent vines.
Boulder needed no second urging. He disengaged from the staggering Borin, paused only long enough to roughly shove the recovering Elara back towards her companions – a final, non-lethal obstacle – then charged after Rhys, his heavy footfalls shaking the ground. They plunged through the vine curtain and out into the relative darkness of the Greenhouse Belt ruins, the sounds of Lyra's enraged shouts and Borin's furious bellows muffled behind the collapsing debris.
As they ran, putting distance between themselves and the compromised dome, Rhys risked a fleeting glance back with his Echo Sense. He couldn't detect Lyra's group attempting pursuit through the collapse yet. But he felt the Watchers. The intense, focused scrutiny lessened, the cold mental pressure retracted slightly. It felt like a researcher stepping back from the microscope, satisfied with the observed reaction, the data point collected. They had what they wanted, for now.
He clutched the pouch at his side, feeling the cool thrum of the Moonpetal Dew against his hip. He had the final catalyst, the key to completing his foundation. But the price was sickeningly clear: he had escaped not through his own strength or cunning alone, but because an unknown, terrifyingly powerful entity had allowed it, manipulating events like pieces on a game board for their own inscrutable purposes. The acquisition of the petal felt less like a victory and more like the closing of a cage door he hadn't even seen.