Chapter 4: Lines on the Dirt
The morning sun spilled through the crooked shutters of the hut, chasing away the night's chill. Grandpa Chen's voice was the first thing Lin Tian heard.
"Tian, come eat before it gets cold."
Lin Tian rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the table. A bowl of porridge steamed between them. Chen watched him quietly as he ate, his old hands folded across his lap.
After a while, the old man said, "About yesterday... you should not wander alone into the forest. Next time, I'll go with you."
Lin Tian quickly shook his head. "No, Grandpa. I'll be careful. You have enough work to do. I can handle chores and herbs."
Chen studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Stubborn. Just like your mother..."
Lin Tian blinked, spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. "Mother?"
The old man forced a chuckle and waved his hand. "Eat, eat. Don't let it go cold."
Lin Tian lowered his head again, hiding the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
---
After breakfast, Chen insisted on accompanying him to the forest next time, but Lin Tian shook his head. "I'll manage, Grandpa. You've done enough."
The old janitor frowned but didn't press further. With broom in hand, Lin Tian stepped outside and joined the other servants sweeping the courtyards. His eyes, however, were fixed on the training fields where outer disciples practiced in neat rows.
Their fists struck in unison, their stances sharp. Dragon Boxing, the most basic martial art of the sect. He had watched them countless times, but today something was different.
Golden lines shimmered faintly across their bodies—subtle, almost hidden. To him, they appeared like afterimages, threads mapping each flaw. A slightly raised shoulder here, an unbalanced foot there. Every weakness lit up before his eyes like a path drawn in light.
"Oi, servant!"
A harsh voice pulled him back. Before Lin Tian could react, a fist slammed into his cheek. He stumbled, the broom clattering to the ground.
"You dare to gawk at us?" another disciple sneered, shoving him hard.
Three of them surrounded him, fists raised. Lin Tian's vision blurred, but then—the lines appeared again. Golden threads traced across their swings, showing him where to step, how to slip away.
He dodged the first blow, then the second, his small frame twisting through the gaps the Map revealed. For a brief moment, excitement flickered in his chest. I can see them. I can avoid—
But his body lagged. His reactions were clumsy, his muscles weak. Though he evaded several strikes, one kick caught his ribs. Pain exploded through him. Another fist sent him sprawling to the dirt.
"Trash," one disciple spat, kicking dust at him. "Broken meridians deserve a broken body."
Laughter followed as they walked away, leaving Lin Tian curled in the dirt, blood trickling from his lip.
---
A shadow fell over him. "Are you all right?"
He looked up to see a young girl in outer disciple robes. Her eyes were bright with concern, not mockery. She knelt, offering him a hand.
Lin Tian hesitated, then pushed himself up without taking it. "I'm fine."
"You should avoid them," she said softly. "They only bully because they can."
He gave her a faint, crooked smile. "If I can't even dodge them, maybe I deserve it."
Her brows furrowed, but before she could reply, another servant called for her. She gave him one last concerned look before hurrying off.
---
That evening, Lin Tian returned to the empty courtyard. The disciples were gone, the air still humming with the echoes of their practice.
He picked up a broom handle and stood where they had trained. Slowly, he mimicked the forms he had seen. His body remembered each movement, and the golden lines corrected him. A foot slid half an inch further. A fist tightened at the right moment. His stance deepened.
By the end, his form was flawless. Perfect.
Unseen by him, an elder stood at the edge of the courtyard, eyes narrowed. His lips moved in a whisper. "Perfect form… from a servant boy?"
The elder lingered, silent, watching Lin Tian repeat the forms with unnatural precision.
---
That night, exhausted and aching, Lin Tian collapsed onto his mat. But even as sleep tugged at him, he pressed the herb to his chest and cultivated. The golden thread pulsed faintly, slower than before but steady.
A panel shimmered in his mind.
---
Name: Lin Tian
Age: 7
Cultivation: Body – Late
Qi (Primordial): 1.012 (+0.005)
Talent: ???
---
"One drop today," the Map murmured. "A thousand drops, and you will rise above them all."