Dawn broke over the Darkwood, but Sol Jin did not emerge. Instead, he perched on a rocky ledge overlooking a small settlement beyond the forest edge. The village was modest, yet the cultivators practicing in the clearing were clearly not ordinary—they bore insignias of minor clans, and their movements carried precision and confidence.
He watched silently, eyes sharp, every twitch and habit recorded in his mind. The Infinite Schemer's Core pulsed faintly, feeding him subtle cues—breathing patterns, favored strikes, micro-expressions. Knowledge, he realized, was more lethal than strength.
> "Predict, observe, manipulate… never fight blind," he muttered to himself.
Among them was Li Mei, the girl who had stumbled in the trap he had left the forest before. She trained alongside Qinghe Zhao's lesser disciples, unaware that someone had already begun studying her movements, weaknesses, and strategies. Sol Jin's grin was faint, calculating, predatory.
He did not move. He did not strike. Yet every instinct told him he had already begun his first human-scale scheme.
---
Hours passed. Sol Jin followed the cultivators' routines from the shadows, learning timing, alliances, and rivalries. The Core pulsed stronger, syncing with his growing strategic awareness. A plan began forming in his mind—small, subtle, but inevitably humiliating for those who had laughed at him.
> "They will never suspect the boy who was nothing… is now weaving threads around them," he whispered.
Li Mei and another disciple, Chen Wei, argued over a training exercise. Sol Jin observed the tension, noting how each reacted to stress, how easily pride could cloud judgment.
> "Perfect," he muttered. "They set up their own traps."
With careful precision, he dislodged small stones from the hillside. They rolled subtly into the path of Chen Wei, causing him to stumble during a demonstration. Li Mei lost balance attempting to correct him. To any onlooker, it appeared as though fate had intervened, but Sol Jin knew better.
The Core pulsed with satisfaction. Every detail—the timing, the angle, the reactions—was perfect. The cultivators muttered in frustration, unaware they had been subtly manipulated, their pride bruised. Sol Jin watched, chest heaving quietly, savoring the thrill.
> "One step closer," he whispered. "They will pay… eventually."
---
The sun began to set. Sol Jin retreated into the shadows of the forest, unseen. His first indirect revenge had succeeded. Not through strength, but through observation, timing, and misdirection—all lessons from the cave and the Core.
High above, the cosmic presence shifted. Threads of fate vibrated with renewed excitement.
> "Yes… the boy is learning to manipulate humans as easily as beasts. Soon, geniuses, sects, and even celestial forces will be aware of his schemes," it murmured.
The mysterious man appeared silently at the cave's mouth, watching the boy return.
> "You have begun to understand," he said. "Do not mistake this for victory. This is only the first lesson in human cunning. The stronger your opponents, the sharper your mind must become. And one day, even the greatest sects will underestimate you… at their own peril."
Sol Jin's chest heaved. The Core pulsed violently, almost as if agreeing. Pain, weakness, humiliation—all that had once defined him—had been transformed into tools, strategies, and weapons. He smiled, a slow, confident grin.
> "I will not be laughed at again. And when the world notices me… it will regret every moment it ignored the boy who was nothing,"* he whispered.
Night fell over the Darkwood. Sol Jin sat quietly, Core thrumming, pulse synchronized with his heartbeat. Beyond the forest, the village slept, oblivious to the boy's watchful eyes. Beyond that, the clans, sects, and prodigies of the Eastern Dominion remained unaware of the storm quietly forming in the shadows.
Sol Jin had survived beasts, cunning creatures, and humiliation. Now, he was learning to manipulate men. The first seeds of revenge had been sown. The first strands of power were woven.
And somewhere in the unseen heavens, threads of fate bent toward him.
The boy who had been nothing was no longer a passive shadow. He was planning, scheming, and rising.