Chén Yè woke to silence.
No vendors. No wheels. No rats scratching behind walls. No wind through cracks.
Just stillness.
He lay for a long moment, letting memory return—drafting, testing, the black cubes. The bed beneath him was soft enough to feel unreal, yielding like water beneath his weight.
He rose.
The bathroom responded instantly. Hot water flowed at his thought. Polished surfaces gleamed like liquid metal. He washed quickly, movements sharp, efficient, almost ritualistic—yet aware of the abundance around him.
The kitchen unsettled him more.
A shimmer warped one section of wall. Dimensional storage. Space folding inward. He willed it to produce food.
It obeyed.
Rice steamed in a porcelain bowl. Vegetables glistened with oil. Meat glazed with rich sauce released wisps of scent into the air. No fire, no preparation. Only obedience.
Chén Yè stared at the curling steam, counting its rhythm, tracing the faint distortions it left in the air. Convenience was just another form of control.
He ate slowly, tasting the richness, forcing restraint into muscles honed by hunger. The palace—mansion, prison, experiment—would not shape him so easily.
Dressed and composed, he stepped outside.
⸻
At the mountain's base, the Unfavored gathered beneath the unmoving twilight. Crystalline structures refracted nonexistent light, casting spectral prisms across the plateau.
A guard appeared.
"Good morning, sir," they said in unison.
He ignored them.
A small stone appeared in his hand. He crushed it.
The world tore sideways. Reality blurred into streaks, a pulse tugging at his gut. Sound vanished. For a heartbeat, he existed nowhere.
Then—a pavilion enclosed them. Pillars rose into shadow. Seats faced a raised platform.
Several children stumbled. One vomited. Chén Yè steadied himself.
The stone moved space. Concepts could embed into objects. Noted.
"Sit. Wait."
They obeyed—but unease buzzed under the surface. Two boys elbowed each other, testing reactions. A girl crossed her arms, jaw tight, glaring at anyone near her. A noble stepped onto a commoner's foot deliberately, only to shrug off the glare. Fear sorted faster than officials ever could—but defiance flickered too, tiny sparks in their posture, a slip of a whisper, a clenched fist.
He chose the back corner, studying the micro-chaos. Noah Wen sat near the front, shoulders collapsed inward. Nobles clung to nobles, commoners to commoners. Patterns of hierarchy and instinct exposed themselves effortlessly.
A boy slid into the seat beside him.
"Hello. Bai Zixian."
Chén Yè studied him. Delicate features, sharp eyes, too composed for casual friendliness.
"Everyone's pairing off," Bai Zixian continued lightly. "We're the only two alone. We should cooperate."
Intelligence hid beneath the softness. Calculation behind the smile. Interesting.
Before Chén Yè replied, a door opened.
An elder entered without spectacle. White hair, severe face, grey robes. Silence thickened.
"My name is Elder Pei Leng. I will guide you for the next few months," he said. His voice was calm but carved into the air.
"You have questions. Today, I answer one."
He paused.
"The stages of evolution."
Every head lifted. Chén Yè felt the pulse of the hall tighten around him. If the elder speaks truth… then I have awakened.
"First: Awakened. The easiest and the hardest. Easiest, because it requires only understanding. Hardest, because many of you will never leave it."
His gaze swept the room. "All of you awakened. Even those whose stones did not react. If you saw a representation, you awakened."
A flicker of recognition passed through the uncertain cases.
"Many share concepts—Flame. Space. Gravity. What differs is representation. One sees an inferno. Another sees a candle. Same concept. Different truth. This stage is not about power. It is about translation."
A pause. He raised a hand. "Hold your image in your mind and ask one question: What truth is it trying to show you?"
Silence.
"When you understand that truth, you will reach Resonance."
He turned and left, footsteps fading like whispers.
⸻
The pavilion erupted in murmurs. Chén Yè remained still. Across from him, small tensions played out:
• A boy flicked a sleeve across the shoulder of a girl deliberately; she stiffened, then smiled faintly as if claiming some small victory.
• Another child muttered a soft insult, earning a glare from a seated noble who flinched only slightly before glancing away.
Chén Yè watched it all—patterns of fear, dominance, and submission. Every glance, every subtle move.
What truth?
Darkness untouched by light. Light impossible to hold. His jaw tightened. Across from him, Bai Zixian's smile never wavered. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
⸻
Elsewhere, Xīng Hé awoke.
The ceiling stretched impossibly high. Sheets of silk brushed against her skin. Then pain struck.
It tore through her in waves, merciless and indiscriminate. Every nerve ignited, every muscle seized, vision blurred with impossible color. She gasped, claws raking the silk sheets. A scream tore from her throat.
A maid fled, shrieking. Two figures entered. Even through the agony, Xīng Hé sensed their presence—divine.
One woman stepped forward, hand extended. The pain dulled, though it did not vanish.
"Easy," the woman said.
"Where am I?" Xīng Hé forced out.
"Safe."
A man stood nearby, observing, precise, calculating.
"She recovered too quickly," he murmured. "It has been two days."
Memory struck: her chamber collapsing, power tearing through her body.
"You awakened naturally," he said. "Without a Concept Stone. Your body failed under the strain."
Natural awakener. Seven in history. Now eight.
"What is my concept?" she asked, voice trembling.
A brief glance passed between the two figures.
"That requires formal testing," the man replied carefully. "You must undergo evaluation to see your representation."
He straightened. "I will inform His Eminence you are conscious."
Eminence. Transcendent. The word shimmered with authority.
As they left, Xīng Hé lay back, the silk sheets pressing cool against her fevered skin. No longer soft. No longer comfort. They felt like restraints.