Jin Haoyang steadied himself with a long breath. His heart still hammered from the aftershock of impossible knowledge: a world of cultivators, a cosmic System sealed in gremlin form, and the horrifying fact that he was—apparently—an Absolute origin wearing pajamas.
The cold soil beneath his bare feet felt far too real.
Liang Shan, the eldest of the three children, was the first to speak again. "Y-Young Lord… can you stand?"
Haoyang nodded, though his legs still felt like noodles. He forced a small smile. "Yeah. I think I can manage standing. Walking, though…" He wobbled on purpose, earning a small, nervous giggle from the youngest, Ping'er.
It wasn't much, but it was something.
The System, floating lazily beside his ear, clicked its tongue. "Host, dramatics are cute, but you have a timer. Seventy-one hours left. Would you like a countdown jingle? I can compose one."
"Please don't," Haoyang muttered.
He scanned the village. It wasn't large—maybe twenty homes total. Now most of them were collapsed, roofing torn by weather, doors broken by whoever had come before. He could see the outline of farmland beyond the fences, long abandoned. And somewhere in the distance, an old well.
"Liang Shan," he said gently, "tell me what happened here."
The boy hesitated, then straightened as though trying to make himself older.
"There were thirty families… until the raiders came. They took anything they wanted. My parents tried to fight. They…" The boy swallowed, jaw trembling, but he didn't break. "We've been hiding since."
Haoyang's chest tightened.
Liang Yue, the girl, stepped forward. "We tried not to bother you when you were asleep, Young Lord. But the well dried up yesterday. If we don't find water today…"
Ping'er clutched her doll harder.
The System drifted upside-down.
"Host. Water source identified: underground aquifer. Blockage level: 98%. Solution: minimal effort if you stop having existential crises."
Haoyang shot it a flat look. "You could've told me that earlier."
"You could've asked earlier."
He rubbed his face. "Fine. Show me."
A translucent map unfolded, a glowing sketch suspended in air. It displayed the village, the dried well, and a glowing point beneath it.
He recognized the pattern. The aquifer wasn't gone—it was clogged by a collapsed layer of mineral deposits and compacted earth. A cultivator could clear it easily. A mortal? Impossible.
But he wasn't exactly mortal.
The cuff that locked his power was still holding him down, but even sealed, he had enough strength to break through dense soil.
"So," Haoyang said slowly, "I might be able to fix the well."
Liang Shan's eyes widened. Liang Yue's breath hitched. Ping'er gasped as if he'd promised to raise the moon.
Hope. Heavy and fragile.
The System snorted. "Host could also, theoretically, just punch through the continent if he sneezed wrong, but yes, start small. Repair the well."
Haoyang exhaled. "All right. First water, then food, then shelter. That's the plan."
Liang Shan nodded hard enough his hair bounced.
Haoyang walked to the old well. The stone frame was cracked, rope frayed. He ran a hand along the rim, feeling the rough texture, grounding himself. He wasn't a cultivator, had never touched qi in his life, but something in his body whispered back—like a sea murmuring behind a closed gate.
He braced his hands on the stone and concentrated.
"Host, I recommend minimal exertion," the System warned. "Maybe a gentle tap."
Haoyang tapped.
The stone frame didn't just crack—it shuddered, dust blasting into the air. The ground rumbled as if a giant had punched the earth from below.
All three children yelped.
Haoyang winced. "Sorry. That was… not gentle."
The System clapped silently, somehow smug despite lacking hands.
"Congratulations. Host has the finesse of an angry ox. Try again. Softer."
He inhaled, carefully lowering his strength this time. Not too much. Not too little. He placed his palms against the stone, channeling only the tiniest fraction of whatever lived in his bones.
The earth responded.
A dull crunch sounded beneath them. Something shifted deep below. And then...
A low roar of rushing water filled the air.
Liang Yue covered her mouth. Liang Shan stepped back, trembling. Ping'er squealed in delight as fresh, clear water surged back into the well, rising like a miracle.
Haoyang stepped away, panting slightly. "Please tell me that wasn't too much."
"For once," the System admitted, "that was appropriately dramatic. Good job, Host. You've officially earned one (1) approval point. Don't let it go to your head."
The kids stared at the full well with reverence that made Haoyang uncomfortable.
Liang Shan bowed. "Young Lord… you're like an immortal."
Haoyang raised both hands. "No, no, definitely not. Let's not start that rumor."
"Too late," the System whispered. "Mortals are built to mythologize. Enjoy your budding legend, Pajama Lord."
Haoyang glared at it.
But something in him steadied with the children's awe. The panic of waking in a new world was still there, but a new thread wove through it:
If he could fix one well…
He could fix a village.
And if he could fix a village…
Maybe this world didn't have to stay like this.
"Okay," Haoyang said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "Let's get to work."
Liang Shan straightened. Liang Yue's eyes shone with a quiet, fierce determination., and Ping'er reached for his hand without thinking.
Haoyang looked at their small fingers wrapped around his.
Yeah.
He could accept this fate.
He could rise to it.