Summer in the fifth year arrived with oppressive heat that settled over the agricultural terrace like a heavy blanket.
Jin wiped sweat from his brow as he surveyed his field, the spirit rice standing tall and healthy under the relentless sun. Five years of cultivation had taught him the subtle rhythms of the seasons—when to push, when to rest, when to trust the crops to grow without interference. The hectare that had once seemed an impossible burden now felt like an extension of himself, as familiar as his own meridians.
The heat brought insects.
They swarmed across the terrace in unprecedented numbers, drawn by the concentrated spiritual energy of the mature crops. Spirit beetles emerged in thick clouds at dusk. Cultivation moths fluttered around the luminescent grain heads. And everywhere, hidden in cracks and crevices and shadowed spaces, the Mind-Eroding Weevils continued their patient work.
Jin had not released new weevils in months. He hadn't needed to. The creatures had established themselves throughout Terrace Seven's infrastructure, breeding in the gaps between stones, the hollows beneath buildings, the countless small spaces that no one thought to inspect. They were part of the environment now—invisible, persistent, and continuously effective.
Overseer Lu had deteriorated significantly.
The man who had once terrorized the terrace with calculated cruelty now wandered through his duties in a perpetual fog of confusion. He forgot names, repeated orders, lost track of conversations mid-sentence. His inspections had become formalities—he would arrive at a field, stare at the crops with unfocused eyes, mutter something about acceptable standards, and move on without recording anything meaningful.
The disciples had learned to work around him, quietly correcting his errors, gently redirecting his attention when he became lost. It was almost sad, Jin thought, watching the shell of a man who had caused so much suffering. Almost.
But not quite.
—————
The announcement came on the hottest day of the summer.
Jin was working his irrigation channels, using the Small Rain technique to supplement the natural water flow, when the assembly bells rang. He set aside his tools and joined the stream of disciples flowing toward the central pavilion, grateful for the excuse to escape the direct sunlight.
The temporary supervisor stood on the stage, her bland features arranged in an expression of careful neutrality. Beside her stood a figure Jin hadn't seen in over three years.
Overseer Huang.
She looked older than he remembered—more gray in her steel-colored hair, deeper lines around her thin mouth. But her posture was as straight as ever, her critical eyes as sharp. The years in the processing facilities had clearly not broken her.
"Effective immediately, Overseer Huang has been restored to her position as supervisor of Terrace Seven," the temporary administrator announced. "Overseer Lu has been relieved of duty pending medical evaluation."
A ripple of suppressed relief passed through the assembled disciples. Jin kept his face carefully neutral, but inside, satisfaction bloomed like a spirit flower reaching toward the sun.
"The sect physicians believe that Overseer Lu's previous injury—the Jade Viper envenomation—has caused delayed complications," the administrator continued. "His symptoms are consistent with chronic venom exposure affecting the spiritual pathways to the brain. He will be transferred to the long-term treatment facilities for extended care."
Jin allowed himself a moment of private irony. The physicians were half right—Lu's condition was indeed caused by a toxin affecting his spiritual pathways. They simply had the wrong source.
The snake had provided a convenient explanation. Jin's weevils had provided the actual result.
"Overseer Huang will address you now," the administrator concluded, stepping aside.
Huang moved to the front of the stage, her critical gaze sweeping across the disciples she had once supervised. When her eyes found Jin's position in the crowd, they lingered for just a moment—recognition, assessment, perhaps even approval—before moving on.
"I have been informed of the… difficulties this terrace has experienced during my absence," she said, her voice carrying the familiar edge of impatience. "Those difficulties are over. We will return to proper standards—not the impossible quotas of the previous administration, but genuine expectations that respect both productivity and sustainability."
She paused, letting her words sink in.
"I will be conducting individual evaluations over the coming weeks. Those who have maintained their cultivation and field management will be recognized. Those who have fallen behind will receive guidance. And those who have advanced beyond expectations…"
Her gaze found Jin again, sharp and knowing.
"Those will receive opportunities appropriate to their development. Dismissed."
—————
The heat wave broke three days later, but the nights remained warm and humid.
Jin sat on his meditation mat in the darkness of the dormitory, listening to the quiet breathing of sleeping disciples around him. The air was thick and still, carrying the green scent of growing things through the open windows.
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 99%]
The tracker had been hovering at this level for weeks, stubbornly refusing to advance that final percentage point. Jin had tried every optimization he could imagine—adjusting his breathing patterns by fractions of a second, refining his circulation routes to eliminate the smallest inefficiencies, perfecting his posture until sitting in meditation felt as natural as lying down to sleep.
Nothing had worked.
Tonight, he decided to stop trying.
Instead of forcing progress, Jin simply cultivated. He breathed in the warm night air, drawing spiritual energy into his meridians with the ease of long practice. He circulated his qi through pathways that had become as familiar as the routes between his field and the dormitory. He let his mind settle into the quiet focus that cultivation required, not seeking advancement but simply being present in the practice.
The bottleneck had been building for months—that familiar pressure at the edges of his consciousness, stronger now than any he'd felt before. Level six was a significant threshold, the boundary between middle and upper Qi Gathering. Most disciples who reached it spent years gathering the strength to break through.
Jin had been at level five for nearly two years. Twice as long as any previous stage. The higher the cultivation, the more time and energy each advancement required.
He accepted this. Patience was a lesson he'd learned well.
The night deepened. Sweat beaded on Jin's skin despite his stillness, the heat refusing to relent even in darkness. He continued his cultivation, not pushing, not straining, simply practicing the technique he had refined over five years of dedicated effort.
And then, without warning, something shifted.
The efficiency tracker pulsed:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 100%]
For a moment, Jin thought his perception was malfunctioning. One hundred percent? Perfect efficiency? That seemed impossible—there was always room for improvement, always some small adjustment that could enhance performance.
But the number remained steady, glowing in his awareness with quiet certainty.
And then the bottleneck shattered.
The sensation was unlike any previous breakthrough. Energy flooded through Jin's meridians in a torrent that should have been overwhelming but somehow felt perfectly controlled. His dantian expanded dramatically, nearly doubling its capacity in a single surge. His spiritual senses exploded outward, suddenly able to perceive details he'd never noticed before—the individual spiritual signatures of every sleeping disciple in the dormitory, the subtle flows of qi through the building's wooden structure, the distant pulse of the sect's protective formations kilometers away.
Level six Qi Gathering.
Jin opened his eyes, gasping slightly from the intensity of the experience. His body felt different—not just stronger, but fundamentally more refined. Every cell seemed to have been touched by the advancement, elevated to a higher state of existence.
He flexed his hands, marveling at the increased responsiveness. Extended his spiritual perception, amazed by how far it could now reach. Circulated his qi, delighted by the smooth, powerful flow through his transformed meridians.
But he didn't make a sound. Didn't wake the other disciples. Didn't do anything that might draw attention to what had just happened.
Five years in the sect had taught him the value of hidden strength.
—————
Jin kept his breakthrough secret.
It wasn't difficult. Outer disciples had no formal requirement to report their cultivation advancement, and Jin's behavior had long since settled into patterns that attracted little notice. He worked his field with the same steady efficiency. He attended assemblies with the same quiet attention. He cultivated in the evenings with the same dedicated focus.
Only his closest allies might have noticed the subtle changes—the slightly sharper perception in his eyes, the marginally faster reactions when handling his tools, the deeper reserves of energy that never seemed to deplete no matter how hard he worked.
But Old Shen was preoccupied with his own cultivation, still struggling against the bottleneck that had blocked him for decades. Lin Mei was busy reestablishing her gossip networks after years of enforced silence. Da Feng and Luo Qiang kept their distance, respecting Jin's privacy as he had respected theirs.
No one asked about his cultivation level. Jin didn't volunteer the information.
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 100%]
The tracker remained at its maximum, no longer showing any parameters to adjust. For the first time since Jin had discovered its existence, the mysterious text offered no guidance for improvement.
He had perfected the technique. There was nothing left to optimize.
Jin wasn't sure how to feel about this. The tracker had been his constant companion for five years, showing him the path forward through countless small adjustments and refinements. Without its guidance, he felt strangely adrift—still able to cultivate, still making progress, but without the mathematical certainty that had defined his advancement.
Then, three days after his breakthrough, he made a discovery that changed everything.
—————
It happened during his morning field work.
Jin was using the Earth Drill technique to loosen soil around a section of newly planted spirit rice, his attention focused on the subtle manipulation of spiritual energy through his palms. The work was familiar, almost automatic—he'd performed these same motions thousands of times over the years.
That's when he noticed it.
His qi was circulating.
Not because he was directing it, not because he was consciously practicing the Azure Harmonization Method. His spiritual energy was simply flowing through his meridians in the technique's prescribed patterns, drawing in ambient qi from the environment and refining it through his dantian with no effort or attention required.
Jin stopped working, stunned by the realization.
He focused on his internal state, examining the phenomenon more closely. Yes—the cultivation technique was definitely running. The breathing patterns, the circulation routes, the energy gathering and refinement processes—all of them were operating continuously, as naturally as his heartbeat or the expansion of his lungs.
The Azure Harmonization Method had become automatic.
Jin stood in his field, tools forgotten, mind racing through the implications.
If the technique ran constantly, without conscious direction, that meant he was cultivating every moment of every day. While he worked. While he slept. While he ate, talked, walked, bathed. Every second of his existence was now contributing to his advancement.
He thought about the years ahead—the levels still to achieve, the breakthroughs still to accomplish. Level seven, eight, nine. The peak of Qi Gathering, and beyond it, the distant dream of Foundation Establishment.
Each subsequent level required exponentially more time and energy than the last. Level six had taken nearly two years of dedicated effort. Level seven might take three. Level eight, perhaps four or five. The mathematics of cultivation were unforgiving for those with three-colored spiritual roots.
But automatic cultivation changed that mathematics entirely.
Jin did some rough calculations in his head. If he was cultivating every moment, if his efficiency was truly perfect, if the ambient spiritual energy in the agricultural terrace remained consistent… he might reach level nine in four years. Perhaps less.
Four years to the peak of Qi Gathering. Four years to the threshold of Foundation Establishment.
It seemed impossibly fast. Disciples with his spiritual root quality typically spent decades reaching that level, if they reached it at all. The statistics were clear: three-colored roots meant slow advancement, limited potential, a lifetime of struggle for every scrap of progress.
But Jin's statistics had never followed normal patterns.
He picked up his tools and resumed his work, outwardly calm despite the excitement churning through him. This discovery was too valuable to share, too dangerous to reveal. The efficiency tracker had always been his secret advantage. Now that advantage had evolved into something even more powerful.
Hidden strength. Patient advancement. Quiet preparation for a future that might hold more possibilities than anyone expected.
Jin smiled to himself and continued loosening the soil around his spirit rice.
—————
Summer faded into autumn, and Jin found himself noticing things he'd overlooked for years.
Lin Mei had grown up.
It wasn't a sudden realization but a gradual awareness that accumulated over weeks and months. The girl who had befriended him on his first day in the sect was no longer a girl at all. She was twenty-one now, a woman by any reasonable measure, with five years of cultivation refining her features and tempering her character.
Jin had always appreciated her as a friend and ally—someone who shared information, offered guidance, and provided companionship through the sect's endless challenges. But lately, he found himself appreciating other things as well.
The way she laughed, bright and unguarded despite everything the sect had put her through. The curve of her smile when she discovered particularly juicy gossip. The graceful efficiency of her movements as she worked her field, her body flowing through the familiar motions like water through well-maintained channels.
The feminine softness that she'd always possessed but he'd somehow never truly noticed.
"You're staring," Lin Mei said one evening, catching him watching her across the dormitory.
Jin felt heat rise to his cheeks—a sensation he hadn't experienced since his first months in the sect. "I was thinking about cultivation techniques," he said, the lie clumsy and obvious.
"Cultivation techniques." Lin Mei's lips curved into that smile he'd been admiring. "And here I thought you were finally noticing that I'm not actually a fellow disciple of indeterminate gender."
"I've always known you were female."
"Knowing and noticing are different things." She crossed the room to sit beside him, close enough that he could smell the faint herbal scent of her soap. "You've been different lately, Wei Jin. More… aware. Of everything."
Jin couldn't tell her about his breakthrough, about the automatic cultivation that was constantly running in the background of his consciousness. But he could acknowledge part of the truth.
"I've been thinking about the future more," he admitted. "Where I want to be in five years. Ten years. What kind of life I want to build."
"And?" Lin Mei's voice was softer now, curious in a way that felt more personal than her usual gossip-seeking. "What kind of life does Wei Jin want?"
Jin looked at her—really looked at her, the way he'd been avoiding for weeks. She was beautiful. Not in the refined, severe way of Luo Qiang, but in something warmer, more approachable. Her face was round and pleasant, her eyes bright with intelligence and humor, her hair now worn longer than the practical cut she'd maintained in their early years.
"I don't know yet," he said honestly. "But I think I'm starting to figure it out."
Lin Mei held his gaze for a long moment, something passing between them that words couldn't capture. Then she smiled again, the expression different this time—softer, more vulnerable.
"Well," she said, rising to return to her own bed, "when you figure it out, let me know. I might have some opinions on the matter."
Jin watched her go, his heart beating faster than any cultivation technique could explain.
—————
The weeks that followed brought a new dimension to Jin's daily routine.
He still worked his field with the same dedication. Still cultivated with the same focus—though now the technique ran automatically, his conscious sessions served to accelerate progress rather than drive it. Still maintained his careful network of alliances and observations that kept him informed about the terrace's shifting dynamics.
But now there was also Lin Mei.
They talked more than they had in years. Not just about gossip and sect politics, but about their pasts, their hopes, their fears. Jin learned that Lin Mei's family had sent seven letters since her arrival at the sect—seven letters in eleven years, each one perfunctory, none expressing any desire for her return. He learned that she had dreamed, as a child, of becoming a physician, of healing rather than farming. He learned that she stayed awake some nights wondering if anyone would notice if she simply disappeared.
In return, he told her about his brother, his nephew, the family that sent letters filled with gratitude and love despite the distance between them. He told her about his grandmother's ghost stories, his father's quiet strength, his mother's tears when he left for the sect. He told her things he'd never shared with anyone—the loneliness of his first months, the terror of his early encounters with bullies, the slow realization that survival required more than just hard work.
He didn't tell her about the efficiency tracker. Some secrets were too precious to share, even with someone who was becoming more important to him than he'd ever expected.
"You're a good man, Wei Jin," Lin Mei said one evening, as they sat together watching the sunset paint the spirit rice fields in shades of gold and amber. "I don't think you know how rare that is."
"I'm practical," Jin replied. "Good has nothing to do with it."
"You sent every spare spirit stone to your family for five years. You let Da Feng and Luo Qiang take credit for Lu's downfall because it was safer for everyone. You've spent months quietly helping disciples who were struggling, never asking for recognition or reward." She shook her head. "That's not practical. That's good."
Jin didn't know how to respond. He'd never thought of his actions in those terms—they were simply what needed to be done, the logical choices that maximized benefit and minimized risk.
But looking at Lin Mei's expression, seeing the genuine warmth in her eyes, he found himself wondering if maybe there was more to it than pure calculation.
Maybe he was good. Or at least, maybe he could be.
"Thank you," he said finally.
Lin Mei smiled and leaned her shoulder against his. They watched the sun sink below the horizon in comfortable silence, two cultivators who had found something precious in each other's company.
—————
Overseer Huang's evaluation of Jin came on the last day of autumn.
She arrived at his field in the early morning, her critical eyes surveying the healthy spirit rice with professional assessment. Jin stood at respectful attention, hands clasped behind his back, face carefully neutral.
"Your records are impressive," Huang said finally. "Five consecutive seasons of above-average yields. Zero formal disciplinary actions. Consistent advancement in cultivation techniques." She paused. "And yet you registered at level five Qi Gathering nearly two years ago. No advancement since?"
Jin kept his expression blank. "Progress has been slow, Overseer Huang. My spiritual roots are three-colored, low grade. The statistics suggest—"
"I know what the statistics suggest." Huang's voice was sharp. "I also know what my eyes tell me. You move differently than you did a year ago. Your spiritual perception is sharper. Your techniques are more refined." She studied him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "If you've achieved a breakthrough, there's no shame in reporting it."
Jin met her gaze steadily. "I have nothing to report at this time, Overseer Huang."
A long moment of silence stretched between them. Then, unexpectedly, Huang's thin lips curved into something that might have been a smile.
"You've learned caution," she said. "That's good. The sect rewards power, but it also consumes it. Those who advertise their strength often find themselves tested in ways they didn't anticipate." She turned to leave, then paused. "When you do have something to report, come to me directly. I remember those who showed promise in my early years. I remember those who struggled under Lu's regime. And I remember those who somehow survived it all without breaking."
She walked away, leaving Jin alone with his spirit rice and his thoughts.
He understood her message. She knew—or at least suspected—that his cultivation had advanced beyond what he claimed. But she also understood why he was hiding it, and she approved of his caution.
More than that, she was offering protection. An alliance with a supervisor who had her own grudges against the system, her own reasons to support disciples who succeeded against expectations.
Jin filed this information away for future consideration. The sect was full of hidden currents and shifting alliances. Every advantage, every relationship, every piece of knowledge could be the key that opened unexpected doors.
The automatic cultivation hummed continuously in the background of his awareness, drawing in spiritual energy, refining his meridians, advancing him toward heights that most disciples with his roots could never reach.
Perfect efficiency. Automatic operation. Hidden strength.
Four years to level nine. Four years to the peak of Qi Gathering, to the threshold of Foundation Establishment, to a future that might hold possibilities beyond anything he'd imagined when he stumbled through the sect's gates as a clumsy six-year-old child.
Jin returned to his work, outwardly calm, inwardly ablaze with quiet ambition.
The path was long. The burdens were heavy.
But he was walking forward, and now—finally—he wasn't walking alone.
—————
End of Chapter Ten