[Perspective: Xiao Ren]
[Location: West Wing Warehouse, Xiao Clan Estate]
The universe isn't governed by destiny, luck, or the whims of ancient cultivators floating on clouds. It is governed by thermodynamics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed; it can only transfer or change form. Whether that energy is thermal, kinetic, or the mystical "Dou Qi" that permeates this continent, the laws remain absolute.
If you understand the laws, you can exploit them.
I stood in the dusty, sun-drenched expanse of the West Wing Herb Warehouse. The air smelled of dry earth, sulfur, and the sweet, cloying rot of decaying vegetation. To the rest of the Xiao Clan, this place was a punishment detail—a graveyard for "trash" herbs deemed too low-quality for the alchemists in the Medicine Hall.
To me, it was a gold mine of inefficiency.
My name is Xiao Ren. I am fifteen years old, an orphan from a branch family so distant we barely make the genealogy chart. I am a 4-Star Dou Disciple. In a martial clan that prides itself on strength, that makes me slightly more valuable than a piece of furniture, but less valuable than a good horse.
"Xiao Ren!"
The shout came from the loading dock. Deacon Gu.
"Moving, Deacon," I called back. My voice was pitched perfectly: obedient, dull, unthreatening. I adjusted my posture, slumping my shoulders slightly. [Persona: The Invisible Drone].
I walked to the front. Deacon Gu was a 2-Star Dou Practitioner with a stained robe and a permanent scowl. He was leaning against a stack of crates, picking his teeth with a splinter.
"The Medicine Hall sent over the morning refuse," Deacon Gu grunted, kicking a wooden bin near his feet. "Sorted by volatility. The green bin is organic waste. The black bin is furnace slag. Don't mix them up. I don't want to explain to the First Elder why the warehouse smells like burning hair."
"Understood. I'll handle it immediately."
"Good. I'll be in my office."
Deacon Gu waddled away. He didn't check my work. He never did. He saw a branch kid with no future, and his brain filtered me out like background noise.
I waited until his door clicked shut. Then, the slouch vanished. I straightened my back and walked to the green bin.
This was the highlight of my day: Scavenging.
I opened the lid. The bin was filled with the failures of the clan's apprentices. Withered roots, burnt leaves, stalks cut at the wrong angle. To a normal person, it was compost.
I sifted through the mess. My hands moved quickly, discarding the ash and sludge. My ability didn't work on sludge; once the structural integrity of an object was gone, it was gone. I couldn't resurrect the dead.
But near the bottom, buried under a pile of mulch, I found a bundle of Blue Wind Stalks.
They were brown and brittle, snapped in the middle, likely discarded because they had dried out in storage.
I picked one up. It crumbled slightly in my grip.
A sensation buzzed in the back of my skull. It wasn't a voice. It was an instinct, a pressure valve waiting to be released. A transparent text overlay flickered into existence, tagging the object in my hand.
[Item: Withered Blue Wind Stalk]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 8% (Trash)]
[Enhancement: 0/1]
[Description: A damaged wind-attribute herb. Minimal medicinal value.]
"Base structure intact," I whispered.
I closed my eyes and focused on the pool of energy in my chest. It was distinct from my Dou Qi—denser, heavier. My Charge. It regenerated once every twenty-four hours at dawn.
Expend.
There was no flash of light. The laws of physics didn't break; they just accelerated.
In my hand, the brown, flaky skin of the stalk peeled away like dead skin, falling as dust to the floor. Underneath, the stem plumped up, turning a vibrant, healthy azure. The snap in the middle didn't just glue together; the fibers re-wove themselves until the break was invisible.
[Upgrade Complete]
[Item: Blue Wind Stalk (+1)]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 100% (Restored)]
[Enhancement: 1/1]
[Description: A perfect wind-attribute herb. Gives a 1x increase in cultivation speed for wind attributed cultivation when eaten raw.]
I opened my eyes. In my palm sat a perfect, fresh herb.
It was still just a Tier-1 ingredient. I hadn't turned it into a magical spirit fruit. I had simply returned it to its peak theoretical state. A normal Blue Wind Stalk sold for 3 Silver Coins. This one, being text-book perfect, might fetch 4.
"3 Silver Coins," I calculated, slipping it into my sleeve. "Zero cost. 100% profit margin."
I checked my internal energy. Empty. The daily charge was gone.
But I kept digging.
My ability had a secondary trigger condition. Passive generation was slow, but I could force a recharge if I achieved a Feat. A Feat wasn't a quest; it was an acknowledgment of impact. Creating something new. Defeating a superior enemy. Altering the narrative.
I opened the black bin—the furnace slag.
Inside were failed pills. Lumps of blackened, hardened medicinal liquid that had been overheated.
I picked out a small, hard sphere. It was hot to the touch and smelled of ozone.
[Item: Failed Qi Gathering Pill]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 12% (Toxic/Hardened)]
[Enhancement: 0/1]
[Description: A failed alchemical product. Contains volatile energy locked within a toxic carbon shell. Lethal if ingested.]
The alchemist had failed the binding process. The energy was locked inside a shell of toxic carbon. If you ate this, you wouldn't cultivate; you'd just vomit blood.
"Trash," I whispered.
I pocketed it anyway.
I needed a Feat. And since I wasn't strong enough to fight anyone, I had to be smart enough to invent something.
[Location: Perimeter Path, East Training Grounds]
I took the long route back to my quarters. The path cut past the main training grounds where the direct lineage disciples practiced.
Usually, I kept my head down. But the sound of a wet thud and raucous laughter made me slow my pace.
I hugged the shadow of a stone colonnade, watching.
In the center of the yard, Xiao Ning—the First Elder's grandson—was sparring. Or rather, he was beating on a punching bag that happened to be a human being.
The human being was Xiao Yan.
Xiao Yan pushed himself up from the dirt. His training blacks were dusted with grey soil. His lip was split. He didn't look at Xiao Ning; he looked at the ground. His fists were clenched so tight the knuckles were white.
"Three years, Xiao Yan!" Xiao Ning laughed, circling him like a shark. "Three years and you're still a 3-Star Disciple? My dog cultivates faster than you. At least the dog guards the house. You just eat resources."
Xiao Yan didn't answer. He reset his stance. It was a textbook stance—low center of gravity, guard up. But his eyes were dark, burning with a silent, impotent fury.
I watched.
I didn't have a HUD for people. I couldn't see Xiao Yan's "Despair Level" or Xiao Ning's "Arrogance Stat." I had to use my eyes and my brain.
Xiao Ning was sloppy. He was an 8-Star Disciple, relying entirely on brute force. He telegraphed every punch.
Xiao Yan... Xiao Yan was interesting.
He saw the openings. I saw his eyes twitch toward Xiao Ning's exposed ribs every time Xiao Ning wound up for a haymaker. But Xiao Yan didn't strike. He couldn't.
He tried to channel Dou Qi to reinforce his block, but the energy sputtered and died before it reached his skin.
Efficiency loss, I analyzed. The input is there. The machinery is working. But the fuel line is cut.
My eyes drifted to Xiao Yan's right hand. To the black iron ring on his finger.
I squinted. From this distance, I couldn't touch it, so I couldn't access the Upgrade menu. But I could use the passive Appraisal.
[Item: Dark Meteoric Ring]
[Tier: ???]
[Quality: ???]
[Description: An ancient artifact composed of unknown heavy iron. Currently acting as an active energy siphon.]
Siphon.
Not "Dormant." Not "Broken." Siphon.
It was eating him.
I leaned back against the pillar. This was the famous "Cripple of Wu Tan City." The tragedy of the century. And the cause was a piece of jewelry.
I checked my internal reserves. Charges: 0.
I hesitated. Getting involved in main family drama was a high-risk play. Xiao Ning could crush me with a finger. If I intervened, I painted a target on my back.
But... the market was volatile. Xiao Yan was a distressed asset trading at zero. If I bought in now, the cost was nothing. And if I was right about the ring containing something powerful—a soul, a formation, a beast—then that "something" was currently awake.
I adjusted my collar. I gripped my bamboo broom like a staff.
I walked out of the shadows.
"Excuse me."
Xiao Ning spun around, fist raised. "What?"
I walked steadily, stopping a few feet away. I didn't look at Xiao Yan. I looked at the pile of leaves behind them.
"You're blocking the wind corridor," I said, my voice dull. "The dust accumulates here if the airflow is obstructed. Deacon Gu will dock my pay if I don't sweep it."
Xiao Ning stared at me, baffled. The adrenaline of the fight evaporated, replaced by confusion. "You... you're interrupting me for dust?"
"I am interrupting you for wages," I corrected. "Please move."
Xiao Ning looked like he wanted to hit me. But hitting a servant who was just doing his job was... petty. It lacked glory. It made him look small. There was no prestige in beating a janitor.
"Tch. Unbelievable." Xiao Ning spat on the ground near Xiao Yan's feet. "This whole place is full of trash today."
He shoved past me, his shoulder checking mine hard enough to make me stumble. I let myself stumble. It made him feel dominant.
He marched off, his cronies trailing him, laughing.
Silence settled over the courtyard.
Xiao Yan stood up, wiping blood from his lip. He looked at me. He didn't look grateful. He looked suspicious.
"I didn't ask for help," Xiao Yan rasped.
"I didn't offer it," I replied, smoothing my robe. "I really do need to sweep here."
I started sweeping. The bristles scratched against the stone.
Xiao Yan watched me for a moment, his shoulders tight. Then he turned to leave.
"You're empty," I said.
Xiao Yan froze. He turned back slowly. "What?"
I didn't stop sweeping. I kept my eyes on the floor.
"I work in the warehouse. I see the logs. You consume three times the Recovery Powder of a normal disciple, yet your output is zero."
"I have a condition," Xiao Yan snapped, his voice rising defensively. "My Dantian—"
"Your Dantian is fine," I interrupted, tone clinical. "If your Dantian was broken, the energy would dissipate into the air. We'd feel it. But it doesn't dissipate. It vanishes."
I stopped sweeping. I looked up, meeting his gaze.
"It's being stored. Somewhere else."
I pointed the handle of the broom at his chest. Then, I lowered it slightly, pointing toward his right hand.
"Check your equipment, Cousin. Sometimes the things we hold onto the tightest are the bills we can't pay."
I turned around and walked away.
I held my breath. Was I too vague? Too specific? Did the logic hold up?
Thump.
A sensation hit my chest. It wasn't the slow trickle of the daily recharge. It was a solid, heavy weight of energy appearing instantly.
[Feat Unlocked: Narrative Interference (Minor)]
[Reward: +1 Charge]
I almost tripped over my own feet.
Feats. The system rewarded impact. I had altered the flow of information. I had poked the protagonist, and the universe had paid me for it.
I had a Charge.
[Location: Xiao Ren's Shack, Outer Perimeter]
My quarters were a wooden box on the edge of the estate. The wind whistled through the gaps in the planks, and the only furniture was a wobbly table and a straw bed.
I sat at the table. In front of me lay three items:
The Blue Wind Stalk (+1) (Tier 1 - Maxed).
The Failed Qi Gathering Pill (Tier 1 - Trash).
My Clan Manual (Scroll of Flowing Rock).
I had one Charge.
I looked at the Manual first.
[Item: Scroll of Flowing Rock]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: Standard (Flawed)]
[Enhancement: 0/1]
[Description: A common Huang-Low class technique. Contains 3 meridian circulation errors and bad posture diagrams.]
If I upgraded this, it would fix the typos and the bad diagrams. It would make my cultivation smoother. But it would still be a Huang Class Low technique. My ability couldn't turn a Honda Civic into a Ferrari; it could only make it a perfect Honda Civic. It would max out at Enhancement 1/1, with no traits.
"I need better materials," I whispered. "To get Traits, I need Tier 2."
I looked at the pill and the herb.
The pill was a hard rock of energy. The herb was a bundle of wind channels.
"If I upgrade the pill," I reasoned, "it becomes a Perfect Failed Pill. That's useless. It just becomes a higher quality rock of poison."
I needed to change the nature of the object before I upgraded it. I needed to trick the system.
I stood up and grabbed my mortar and pestle.
I threw the Blue Wind Stalk (+1) into the bowl. Since I had restored it to 100% quality earlier, it didn't turn into rough chaff when I ground it; it turned into a fine, sparkling blue dust that smelled of ozone.
I took the Failed Pill. I didn't grind it. I put it in a small metal cup and held it over my candle flame.
Normally, this wouldn't work. But the pill was mostly sugar and binding agents surrounding the hardened core. Under heat, the outer shell softened, turning sticky.
I rolled the sticky black pill in the blue dust.
The dust coated the pill, creating a layered shell.
I sat back.
[Item: Composite Wind-Fire Pill]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: Unstable]
[Enhancement: 0/1]
[Description: A crude combination of toxic slag and perfect wind powder. Highly unstable.]
Now, I had a single object. A complex object.
I placed my hand on it. I focused my intent.
Fix the integration. Use the Wind energy of the dust to create micro-channels into the hardened core. Create a release valve for the toxicity.
Expend Charge.
The static hummed. The blue dust didn't just sit on the surface; it sank into the black sludge. The pill hissed. It shrank, compressing, turning from a lumpy rock into a sleek, dark-blue sphere with a single red vein running through it.
[Upgrade Complete]
[Item: Venting Spirit Pill (+1)]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 100% (Stable)]
[Enhancement: 1/1]
[Description: A specialized energy delivery system. When exposed to a suction force, it rapidly vents all stored Fire and Wind energy in a clean, concentrated stream. Not suitable for human consumption.]
I picked it up.
It wasn't a cultivation pill anymore. It was a battery. A high-voltage jump starter.
Since it was Tier 1, it didn't gain a "Trait" like [Volatile Release] in a separate slot. But the Description confirmed that its fundamental nature had changed to match my intent. It was perfect for feeding something hungry.
I wrapped the pill in a scrap of silk.
I didn't consume it. I couldn't. But I had proven the concept.
Trash + Trash + Logic + Upgrade = Utility.
I needed to do this on a larger scale. I needed money to buy better trash.
I looked at my Manual again.
"Tomorrow," I promised the book. "Tomorrow, we fix your grammar."
[Perspective: Xiao Yan]
[Location: Xiao Yan's Room]
The moon was high. Xiao Yan sat on the edge of his bed, the room dark except for a single candle.
He held the black ring in his palm.
"Check your equipment."
The clerk's voice echoed in his head. It was absurd. A ring eating his Dou Qi? It was just metal. It was a keepsake from his mother.
But Xiao Yan was desperate. Desperation made the absurd sound like hope.
He stood up and placed the ring on his desk, five paces away from the bed.
He went back to the bed and sat in the lotus position. He closed his eyes.
Inhale.
He pulled the ambient Dou Qi into his body. He guided it through his meridians. Usually, the moment it reached his lower abdomen, a suction force would trigger, dragging the energy away into nothingness.
He waited for the suction.
One breath. Two breaths.
The energy swirled in his Dantian. It stayed there. It was warm. It was his.
Xiao Yan's eyes snapped open.
He stared at the desk across the room. The ring sat there, inert, glimmering in the candlelight.
"No..." Xiao Yan whispered. The realization hit him like a physical blow. "You?"
He stood up, stumbling slightly. He walked toward the desk. He didn't feel relief. He felt betrayal. Rage.
"Three years," he hissed, grabbing a heavy iron hammer from his shelf. "You took three years from me!"
He raised the hammer, aiming for the ring.
"I wouldn't do that, brat. This old bone can't take a beating."
The voice was dry, amused, and came from everywhere at once.
Xiao Yan froze, the hammer hovering in the air.
Smoke drifted from the ring, coalescing into a transparent, floating figure of an old man.
"Besides," the ghost said, stroking his beard. "That little clerk was right. It was the equipment. Sharp kid. I didn't think anyone in this backwater had that kind of perception."
Xiao Yan lowered the hammer, his mouth opening and closing.
"Who... are you?"
"Me?" The ghost smiled. "I'm the reason you're going to be great. But first... we need to talk about my rent."
[Omake: The Misunderstanding]
[Perspective: Deacon Gu]
[Location: Warehouse Loading Dock]
Deacon Gu walked into the warehouse, munching on a pear. He saw a wooden crate sitting in the middle of the aisle.
"Xiao Ren!" Deacon Gu shouted. "I told you to stack the crates!"
No answer.
Irritated, Deacon Gu kicked the crate to slide it out of the way.
CLANG.
The sound wasn't wood hitting stone. It sounded like a temple bell being struck.
Deacon Gu howled, grabbing his foot. He hopped around on one leg, tears streaming down his face. "What in the hells?!"
He looked at the crate. It looked like wood. He tapped it with his knuckle.
Tink. Tink.
It felt like solid granite.
Xiao Ren poked his head out from behind a stack of herbs. "Did you call, Deacon?"
"This box!" Deacon Gu wheezed. "What is wrong with this box?"
"Oh," Xiao Ren said, face blank. "I reinforced it. You said the last shipment was too fragile."
"Reinforced it with what? The tears of the ancestors?"
"Just polish, Deacon."
Deacon Gu stared at him. He stared at the box.
"Don't polish anything else," Deacon Gu whispered. "I think you broke my toe."
Xiao Ren bowed. "Understood."
Deacon Gu limped away, terrified of the broom leaning against the wall. It looked... suspiciously sturdy.