Resources never vanished.
They only changed hands.
Kael understood this by the ninth day of reintegration into outer disciple life. The Azure Pillar Sect did not bleed power; it redistributed it according to visibility, perceived potential, and immediate return. Those who advanced quickly were rewarded. Those who stagnated were deprioritized. Those who failed were quietly written off.
The system was not cruel.
It was efficient—just not in the way most cultivators understood.
Kael watched the redistribution happen in real time.
The outer courtyard was noisier than usual that morning. A notice had been posted near the central pillar, its jade surface glowing faintly with engraved characters. Disciples gathered in clusters, voices overlapping as they read.
Kael did not approach immediately.
Crowds distorted information.
He waited until the initial surge dissipated, then moved in close enough to read without standing out.
Monthly allocation adjustments.
As expected.
Names were listed in descending order of priority. Training slots. Pill access. Instruction time with elders. Access windows to higher-density cultivation rooms.
Kael scanned quickly.
Liu Serrin's name appeared near the top. So did several others who had recently advanced or displayed aggressive improvement. A few names he recognized were missing entirely—disciples who had overextended, injured themselves, or failed publicly.
Kael's name appeared exactly where he expected.
Low.
Not the bottom.
But close enough to be functionally irrelevant.
No additional pills. No advanced manuals. No private instruction.
Only baseline rations.
He felt no irritation.
This was confirmation, not loss.
As the crowd dispersed, Kael remained where he was, pretending to reread the notice while observing reactions.
Serrin laughed openly, slapping a companion on the shoulder. Others wore thin smiles, satisfaction barely concealed. A handful stared at the list too long, expressions tight, calculating what they would have to do to climb.
And a few—very few—looked shaken.
One disciple, a boy named Han Iru, stood rigid near the edge of the courtyard. His name had dropped sharply from the previous month. Kael remembered him. Talented enough. Impatient. Recently attempted to force a breakthrough with external pills.
Kael's gaze lingered just long enough to confirm the tremor in the boy's qi flow.
Damage.
Not fatal.
But permanent enough to alter his trajectory.
The sect had already adjusted.
Assignments followed shortly after.
Kael was sent back to the herb terraces.
Again.
Predictable allocation behavior: low priority disciples were assigned tasks that maintained infrastructure but offered little immediate return. The sect preserved its visible assets and minimized risk exposure.
Kael accepted the assignment without comment.
Acceptance reinforced expectations.
Expectations shaped future allocations.
He arrived at the terraces just after midday, tools in hand, posture unremarkable. The qi density was moderate—nothing special—but consistent. He worked as before, maintaining rhythm, aligning breath with motion, allowing passive absorption without triggering circulation.
He noticed something new.
Two other disciples had been assigned to the terraces as well. Both unfamiliar. Both quiet.
Both recently deprioritized.
Kael did not speak to them.
Instead, he observed.
Their work was rushed. Movements inefficient. Breathing shallow and poorly timed. They pulled qi unconsciously, creating turbulence that bled into the surrounding environment.
Normally insignificant.
Today, relevant.
Kael adjusted his position slightly, moving closer to the terrace wall where the formation eddy formed. The turbulence created by the others diverted clean qi toward that intersection.
Not much.
Enough.
He slowed his movements further, letting the ambient shift do the work.
[System Note: External inefficiency detected.][Environmental gain increased by 0.9% due to third-party waste.]
Kael acknowledged the notification internally and continued working.
He did not cause the inefficiency.
He simply benefited from it.
By late afternoon, one of the other disciples grew frustrated. His movements became sharper, less controlled. Qi flared unevenly, scraping against his meridians.
Kael watched from the corner of his vision.
A mistake formed.
Then compounded.
The disciple froze, face pale, clutching his side as pain spiked. He staggered back, breathing ragged.
Kael did not move.
Intervention would draw attention.
Attention would cost more than the benefit of correction.
The second disciple hesitated, then ran to fetch a steward.
The injured one was escorted away.
The terraces fell quiet again.
Kael adjusted his breathing, returning to baseline.
[System Note: Risk avoided.][Projected long-term benefit preserved.]
He finished his assignment without incident.
That evening, Kael reviewed the day's data.
Resource allocation patterns were clearer now. The sect favored momentum over resilience. This bias created feedback loops: those who advanced received more resources, enabling further advancement—until failure intervened.
Failure, when it came, was abrupt.
Kael adjusted his internal projections.
If he remained low-visibility, he would receive fewer resources—but also face fewer expectations. Fewer expectations meant fewer forced demonstrations. Fewer demonstrations meant fewer chances to be pressured into premature advancement.
Time.
Again.
He spread his medicinal supplies across the table. His baseline rations were modest, but his absorption efficiency had improved enough to compensate partially. He recalculated dosages, spacing intake to avoid overlap with passive environmental gains.
No waste.
No surplus.
Just balance.
The next morning, an announcement rippled through the courtyard.
An outer disciple had been removed from active training due to "internal instability." No name was given, but Kael recognized the description.
Han Iru.
The boy stood near the periphery, eyes hollow, cultivation sealed temporarily while physicians assessed the damage.
Others whispered.
Some looked relieved.
Some looked afraid.
Kael looked away.
The lesson was complete.
Later that day, Kael was summoned briefly by a junior steward.
Not an elder.
Not an accusation.
A routine check-in.
"You've been assigned to the terraces frequently," the steward said, glancing at a tablet. "No complaints. No incidents."
Kael inclined his head slightly.
"Yes."
The steward hesitated, then added, "Your cultivation… remains stable?"
"Yes."
No elaboration.
The steward nodded, satisfied, and dismissed him.
Kael returned to his routine without deviation.
[System Note: Visibility level remains low.][Assessment: Optimal for current phase.]
That night, Kael lay on his mat, eyes open, reviewing the implications.
He was being sorted.
Quietly.
Not upward.
Not downward.
Sideways.
Into a category the sect did not monitor closely.
To most cultivators, this was stagnation.
To Kael, it was insulation.
He had learned something critical:
The sect's greatest weakness was not corruption, incompetence, or cruelty.
It was assumption.
Assumption that those who did not advance were incapable.
Assumption that silence meant mediocrity.
Assumption that efficiency was visible.
Kael adjusted his breathing, letting qi settle naturally.
Tomorrow, he would continue exactly as before.
No sudden changes.
No visible ambition.
Just accumulation.
Because when the system finally noticed him again, it would be too late to correct the imbalance.
By then, Kael Ardyn would not need allocation.
He would already have everything he required.
And the sect would have helped him gather it—without ever realizing it.