The morning sun pierced the mist shrouding Stonebrook Hollow, casting long shadows across the muddy paths. Lin Xuan emerged from his hut, his body still frail but invigorated by the night's meager Qi absorption. He estimated he'd gathered enough to reach the first layer of Qi Gathering—barely a spark, but enough to sharpen his senses slightly. Sounds were crisper, scents more distinct, and he could feel the faint pulse of energy in the air, like invisible currents waiting to be harnessed.
*Efficiency is key,* he reminded himself. In his previous life, he'd orchestrated multi-billion-dollar deals with incomplete data; here, information was his currency. He needed to map the village's power structure, identify exploitable weaknesses, and secure a cultivation manual. Without one, his progress would crawl.
He moved with deliberate casualness, blending into the flow of villagers. First stop: the central square, where merchants hawked wares from rickety stalls. Lin Xuan lingered near a fruit vendor, ears attuned to gossip.
"Did you hear? Wang Er's demanding double tribute this month," muttered an old woman to her companion. "Says the Crimson Flame Sect's preparing for some big trial. They'll be scouting talents soon."
The other nodded grimly. "Aye, but only the gifted get picked. The rest of us just bleed spirit stones we don't have."
Lin Xuan filed that away. The sect's trial—an opportunity? If it involved tests of potential, his intellect could turn the odds. But first, resources. Spirit stones were condensed Qi crystals, used for cultivation or trade. The village granary likely held some, guarded by Wang Er's thugs.
He drifted toward the headman's residence, a sturdy wooden structure elevated on stilts, surrounded by a low fence. Two guards lounged at the gate, their auras flickering with low-level Qi—probably Qi Gathering second or third layer. Sloppy posture, distracted chatter; exploitable.
Pretending to chase a stray chicken, Lin Xuan circled the building. A side window caught his eye—partially open, overlooking a small garden. Inside, shelves lined with scrolls and books. The headman's library? The boy's memories confirmed it: Headman Li was a former outer disciple of the sect, retired to this backwater. He hoarded basic manuals, doling them out to favored youths.
*Target acquired.* But direct theft was risky; better to create a diversion.
As noon approached, the village buzzed with activity. Lin Xuan spotted Wang Er in the square, bullying a young farmer over a spilled cart of grains. The enforcer's face was flushed, his fists clenched—short temper, predictable.
Lin Xuan approached a group of children playing nearby, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Hey, you lot. Want to earn a copper? Go tell Wang Er that the headman's been shorting his cut of the tribute. Say you overheard it."
The kids' eyes widened at the coin he flashed—pilfered from a loose pocket earlier. Greed overrode caution; they scampered off.
Moments later, shouts erupted. Wang Er stormed toward the headman's house, drawing the guards into the fray. "Li, you old fox! Stealing from the sect's share?"
Headman Li emerged, indignant. "Nonsense! Who spreads such lies?"
The argument escalated, villagers gathering to watch. In the chaos, Lin Xuan slipped around back, vaulting the fence with surprising ease—his budding Qi aiding the leap. He squeezed through the window, heart steady despite the risk.
The library was dim, dust motes dancing in the light. Scrolls filled alcoves: farming techniques, herb lore, and—there— a section on cultivation. He scanned titles quickly: *Basic Qi Circulation*, *Meridian Opening Guide*, *Foundation Essence Arts*.
He grabbed the simplest, *Qi Gathering Primer*, tucking it into his tunic. No time for more; voices grew louder outside.
Exiting as he came, he melted back into the crowd just as the brawl simmered down. Wang Er, appeased by some bribe, lumbered away grumbling. No one noticed the orphan.
Back in his hut, Lin Xuan unrolled the manual, eyes devouring the text. It described breathing patterns, meridian pathways, and Qi visualization—basic, but structured. With this, he could accelerate his gathering tenfold.
He began immediately, sitting cross-legged as instructed. Inhale, circulate, condense. The Qi flowed smoother now, pooling in his dantian like a growing ember. By dusk, he'd broken through to Qi Gathering Layer 1 proper, his body humming with nascent power. Strength trickled in; he could probably lift twice his previous limit.
But as night fell, unease stirred. The manual mentioned "aptitudes"—bone age, spirit roots—that sects tested. His body was average at best; intellect alone might not suffice.
A knock at the door jolted him. He tensed, ready to flee.
Outside stood a girl, about his age, with wide eyes and a basket of bread. "Lin Xuan? I saw you looking hungry earlier. Ma baked extra."
The boy's memories surfaced: Mei Ling, neighbor's daughter, one of the few who'd shown kindness to the orphan. Naive, but genuine.
Suspicion flared—coincidence? Or a probe?
He accepted the bread with a nod. "Thanks. What's the catch?"
She blinked, hurt. "No catch. Just... being nice."
He studied her: no aura, mortal. Harmless, perhaps useful as an informant.
As she left, Lin Xuan bit into the bread, mind whirling. Alliances could be tools, but trust was a luxury.
Unseen in the corner, the shadow wisp coiled tighter, as if amused by his calculations. And in the distance, another roar echoed from the hills—closer this time. Something stirred in the forests, drawn by the village's unrest.
Lin Xuan's eyes narrowed. Opportunity, or threat? He'd find out soon enough.