Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The weight of single thread

The training grounds behind the western pavilion were rarely used at dawn. Most disciples preferred public spaces, places where effort could be witnessed and acknowledged. Lin Haoran had always preferred quiet corners. He stepped onto the packed earth slowly, letting the morning air settle against his skin. The Heaven-Reversing Body Scripture pulsed faintly within him, like a steady ember beneath ash. One unit of Fate Energy. Insignificant in number. Transformative in consequence. He lowered himself into a basic horse stance, one he had practiced since childhood more out of discipline than expectation. In the past, his body had responded with ordinary fatigue. His muscles would tremble early, joints stiff under prolonged strain. Now, as he settled into position, something subtle shifted. His spine aligned more naturally. His breathing deepened without effort. A gentle warmth spread through his marrow, not painful, not overwhelming—just present. He focused on each inhalation, each exhalation. The Scripture did not flood him with power. It reinforced him. Like iron slowly being folded and tempered. Minutes passed. Sweat formed along his brow. The strain came, but it was different. Instead of weakness, he felt compression—density increasing from within. His legs trembled once, then stabilized. The Codex stirred. Fate Energy Consumption Active. Body Density Increased: Minor. Meridians Reinforced: Minimal. No flourish. No praise. Just measured reporting. Haoran straightened after a quarter hour, then shifted into slow punching forms. Each strike carried slightly more weight than before. Not speed. Not force born of brute strength. But cohesion. His bones felt less hollow, his tendons more responsive. He could sense internal alignment correcting itself as if guided by invisible hands. In the remembered timeline, he had trained diligently yet remained mediocre. His blindness had forced reliance on hearing and touch, but his physical foundation never truly distinguished itself. Now, even without explosive growth, there was certainty. If he continued this way for months… years… he would not be ordinary. He paused, drawing a slow breath. A thought surfaced: if one minor deviation produced this much progress, what would a larger theft yield? The idea carried both temptation and warning. As if in answer, the air shifted faintly above him. A subtle pressure descended, not enough to crush, but enough to remind. Heaven observed patterns. Patterns did not like being altered. He tilted his face slightly upward. "Just one thread," he murmured under his breath. He resumed training, increasing intensity. This time, he circulated qi consciously, guiding it through reinforced meridians. The warmth intensified, flowing smoother than it ever had. A sharp ache flared briefly in his right shoulder—then faded, replaced by a solid steadiness. Microfractures repaired. Structural Integrity Improved. Fate Energy Remaining: 0. Passive Growth Suspended. The warmth dulled slightly. The system did not overextend. It consumed precisely what it had. Haoran exhaled slowly. So that was the limit. He would not grow endlessly without stealing more fate. Balanced. Measured. Fair in its own cold way. Footsteps approached across gravel. Light. Controlled. He recognized the rhythm instantly—Lin Yue. She stopped several paces away. "You're training?" Surprise colored her voice. "I always train," he replied calmly. She hesitated. "Not like this." He straightened fully. His posture felt grounded, centered in a way it never had before. "How is it different?" he asked. A faint pause. "You feel… heavier," she said quietly. "Not physically. Just… present." He almost smiled. "Perhaps I finally decided to stop shrinking." The words were simple, but they carried more truth than she realized. In the other timeline, humiliation would have slowly carved resentment into him. This time, discipline was carving something steadier. Lin Yue stepped closer. "The Heaven's Chosen asked about you," she said. That drew his attention. "What did he ask?" "Whether you would attend the welcoming banquet tonight." Her tone tightened slightly. In the remembered script, he would attend. He would exchange sharp words. Pride would flare. Rivalry would ignite. Haoran considered the threads tugging faintly at the edge of his perception. If he avoided the banquet entirely, would that count as another deviation? Likely. But the magnitude might be small. Or perhaps more significant than expected. He could not yet measure the scale. "I will attend," he said finally. Lin Yue stiffened slightly, perhaps anticipating conflict. "Are you certain?" "Yes." Avoidance was not always strength. Sometimes deviation required presence. She studied him silently for a moment before nodding. "Then I'll stand beside you." He inclined his head in gratitude. As she turned to leave, he felt it again—distant but unmistakable. A thread tightening elsewhere in the clan grounds. The Heaven's Chosen. Not hostile. Not aggressive. Simply… aware. A faint ripple of curiosity. As if the script had shifted by a single word and he had noticed the inconsistency. Haoran flexed his fingers slowly. His bones felt denser. His stance steadier. One minor thread had been pulled. One unit of Fate consumed. The result was tangible. Tonight, under lantern light and watching eyes, another opportunity would present itself. This time, he would not react blindly. This time, he would choose which thread to pull.