The "Conscious Focus" technique was deceptively simple, yet its effects were immediate and profound. That night, in the quiet darkness of the dormitory, Lin Feng sat on his pallet and turned his awareness inward. The sounds of his roommates' snores, the distant howl of a spirit wind through the mountain crags, the ever-present ache in his dantian they all became distant background noise. His mental space, visualized as an endless dark void, held a single, unwavering point of cool white light at its center.
It wasn't peace. Peace was a luxury he couldn't afford. It was clarity. For the first time, he could observe the chaotic storm of his circumstances the pain, the fear, the strategic calculations without being swept away by them. He was the eye of the hurricane, calm and observing. The technique didn't strengthen his soul in a measurable, cultivator sense, but it polished the lens through which he viewed his problems.
When dawn's grey light crept through the window, he opened his eyes feeling more rested than he had in either of his lives. His body still hurt, but the fatigue in his mind had been scoured away. He reported to the Scriptorium annex again, received another grunt from Archivist Song, and returned to his dusting.
Today, however, he was not passive. His newly clarified mind turned the Scriptorium annex from a prison of labor into a field of study. As he handled the damaged scrolls and fragmented manuals, he didn't just see trash. He saw data points.
He couldn't afford to analyze every scroll with the Ledger the Karma cost would be astronomical. Instead, he used his own knowledge. He began to categorize.
Scroll Type A: Basic elemental cultivation techniques (common, repetitive, mostly intact but low-grade).
Scroll Type B: Herbology and basic alchemy notes (often water-damaged, but contained practical information on local flora).
Scroll Type C: Historical records and geographical notes (considered useless by most, but potentially containing locational data).
Scroll Type D: Unidentifiable fragments of advanced theories or broken arts (high risk, potentially high reward).
He was building a mental map of the Scriptorium annex's contents, a personal library index. Information, even seemingly useless information, was a form of capital.
His shift was interrupted by a commotion at the entrance. A young outer disciple, face pale and streaked with soot, robes singed at the hem, stood panting before Archivist Song.
"Archivist fire in the lower alchemy pavilion storeroom Master Huang needs all available hands to move reagents before the smoke ruins them!"
Archivist Song's wrinkled face pinched in distaste. Interruptions. "You, you, and you," he snapped, pointing at Lin Feng and two other dusting disciples. "Go. Don't touch anything unless told. And you," he glared at the sooty disciple, "owe me three days of scroll-mending."
The lower alchemy pavilion was a hive of controlled chaos when they arrived. Thick, acrid smoke billowed from a side room, and a dozen outer disciples were forming a frantic chain, passing crates and jade boxes out into the courtyard. An elderly man with a long, soot-stained beard Alchemist Huang was barking orders, his face a mask of fury and worry.
"Faster, you witless lemmings! That smoke carries residual fire-essence! It will degrade the Frost Ginseng! The Silverleaf Moss! Move!"
Lin Feng slotted into the chain. The work was brutal. The crates were heavy, and the smoke stung his eyes and lungs. But his mind, honed by his new technique, was detached, observing.
He saw the system breaking down. The chain was inefficient; strong disciples and weak ones were interspersed, creating bottlenecks. Panic and the alchemist's shouts were making people clumsy. A disciple near the front stumbled, and a jade box containing glowing blue roots tumbled from his arms.
Time seemed to slow for Lin Feng. He saw the box fall. He saw Alchemist Huang's eyes widen in horror. He saw the inevitable outcome: precious reagents destroyed, punishment doled out, perhaps on all of them for collective incompetence.
Karmic Opportunity Detected: Prevention of 'Collective Punishment' Trope. Potential Yield: 2-4 Points.
He didn't dive. His body was too weak. Instead, he acted on instinct and calculation. He was two people back in the chain. As the box fell, he didn't shout. He took a sharp half-step to his left, creating a slight gap, and used his foot to nudge the crate he was holding toward the stumbling disciple's legs. It wasn't a hard kick, just enough to provide a momentary brace.
The disciple, off-balance, instinctively steadied himself against the crate. His flailing hand, which had been empty, shot out and caught the falling jade box an inch from the stone pavement. He fumbled it, clutched it to his chest, and stood there, breathing heavily, the precious roots intact.
The line froze. Alchemist Huang stormed over, snatched the box, inspected it, and then glared at the trembling disciple. "Clumsy fool! If your hands are butter, go to the end of the line and only carry the straw-packed crates!" His wrath had a target, but the catastrophe was averted. The chain resumed, slightly more shaken but intact.
No one had seen Lin Feng's subtle footwork. It was attributed to luck, to the stumbling disciple's reflexive save. Lin Feng returned to passing crates, his face a mask of bland exertion.
Later, as the fire was extinguished and the last reagents secured, Alchemist Huang surveyed the soot-covered disciples. "You," he said, pointing at Lin Feng. The other disciples looked at him with pity, expecting another tongue-lashing. "You kept your head. Didn't drop a single item. Here." He tossed a small object.
Lin Feng caught it. It was a single, better-quality Qi-Gathering Pill. It had a faint sheen and a purer aroma. A mid-grade pill, worth five of his standard ones.
"Dismissed," Huang grunted, turning away.
As Lin Feng walked back to the Scriptorium annex, the warmth blossomed in his chest, stronger this time.
Karmic Thread Altered. Systemic Inefficiency Minimized; Valuable Resources Preserved.
Karma Points Gained: +3.
Current Karma Balance: 4.
He now had four points. And a mid-grade pill. The pill was a tangible resource. The points were potential. But the most valuable takeaway was the confirmation of his hypothesis.
The Ledger rewarded him not for being a hero, but for being a stabilizing force against narrative waste. Preventing the pointless destruction of resources, averting the lazy plot device of "collective punishment" these were high-yield actions. It valued efficiency and the subversion of predictable, dramatic fallout.
Back in the Scriptorium annex, dusting with renewed purpose, he pondered his next experiment. Meridian repair. He couldn't go to a healing elder that would cost contribution points he didn't have and invite questions he couldn't answer. He needed a self-sufficient solution.
During his lunch break a bland bun and a cup of weak tea he overheard two older disciples gossiping.
"Old Man Liang in the herb garden is in a rage again. That patch of Silverstream Grass near the western wall is blighted. Says it's a fungal rot, but the purification arrays are too expensive to run for a low-tier herb."
Silverstream Grass. A common herb, mildly water-attuned, often used in basic body cleansing and low-level antidotes. Its nature was gentle, purifying.
An idea, fragile and intricate, began to form in Lin Feng's mind. It combined the herb's properties, his need for subtle meridian repair, and his growing understanding of the Ledger's nature.
That evening, instead of returning directly to the dormitory, he took a detour to the South Peak herb gardens. He didn't go to the main gates. He skirted the perimeter wall, a low structure of stacked stone, until he found the section the gossiping disciples had mentioned. Even from outside, he could see a patch of silvery-leaved plants looking dull and spotted with black.
He focused on the blighted grass and initiated an analysis.
Analysis Requested: Subject - Blighted Silverstream Grass.
Estimated Karma Cost: 1 Point. Proceed? Y/N
One point. An affordable experiment. He confirmed.
Analysis Complete.
Subject: Silverstream Grass (Batch), Afflicted.
Deconstruction:
[Concept: Gentle Water Purity] - Herb's Core Nature: Weakened (40% efficacy)
[Concept: Fungal Rot (Grey-Spore)] - Invasive Contaminant: Active
[Concept: Spiritual Nutrient Siphon] - Contaminant's Action: Draining host vitality.
Interaction: The [Grey-Spore] rot is specifically attuned to disrupt water-aspected spiritual flows. It is vulnerable to concentrated applications of its own extracted essence, applied in reverse flow.
Conclusion: Herb batch is non-viable for standard alchemy.
Potential Pathways:
Path 1: Extract and concentrate the [Gentle Water Purity] essence from unaffected sections of the plants. The essence will be weak but uncontaminated.
Path 2 (Unconventional): Use the extracted, weak essence in a diluted bath. Its gentle, purifying nature may be sufficient to slowly loosen and flush the metal-attributed contamination in low-grade meridian damage, without the spiritual 'weight' that would trigger a Qi deviation in a Miscellaneous Root bearer.
Karma Cost of Analysis: 1 Point. Current Balance: 3.
Lin Feng's breath caught. There it was. Not a miracle cure, but a pathway. A slow, gentle, almost homoeopathic approach that perfectly matched his constraints. weak, non-threatening, and using discarded resources.
He needed to get some of that grass. Not the blighted parts, but the less affected leaves. Stealing from a sect garden was a severe offense. But taking blighted, discarded leaves that were going to be burned anyway that was a grey area.
He waited until full dark. Using the basic stealth techniques all disciples were taught (and his Conscious Focus to still his breathing and muffle his presence), he vaulted the low wall. He moved quickly to the blighted patch, his eyes adjusted to the moonlight. He didn't take whole plants. Using a small, sharp stone, he carefully snipped a handful of the least-blackened silvery leaves from several different plants, leaving the cores intact. It was theft, but it was also pruning. If anything, he was helping.
Back in the dormitory, waiting for his roommates to fall into deep sleep, he prepared his experiment. He crushed the leaves in a clean bowl with the handle of his comb, added a few drops of water, and strained the pulp through a piece of clean cloth. The result was a teaspoon of faintly luminous, silvery liquid that smelled of rain and fresh earth.
He diluted it further in a cup of water, until it was barely tinged with color.
Holding the cup, he focused on the mixture. "Ledger, analyze this preparation for its effect on my specific meridian damage."
Analysis Requested: Custom Preparation - Diluted Silverstream Essence.
Estimated Karma Cost: 2 Points. Proceed? Y/N
His last major expenditure. He confirmed, the hollow feeling in his dantian more pronounced.
Analysis Complete.
Subject: Customized Meridian Flush Solution.
Projected Efficacy:
Metal Contamination Reduction: 3-5% per application (diminishing returns after 5 applications).
Meridian Pathway Soothing: Minor.
Risk of Adverse Reaction: 0.8% (Negligible, given subject's low spiritual sensitivity).
Recommended Usage: Once daily for five days. Monitor for increased spiritual energy capture.
Conclusion: Viable low-risk, low-yield palliative measure.
Karma Cost of Analysis: 2 Points. Current Balance: 1.
Lin Feng didn't hesitate. He drank the diluted essence. It tasted like cold mint and wet stone.
There was no dramatic surge. No cleansing glow. Just a faint, cool sensation tracing down his throat and spreading through his chest, like a sip of water on a parched tongue. The sharp, persistent pain in his dantian didn't vanish, but it softened. Became a dull ache instead of a stabbing pinch.
It was a change so subtle only someone obsessively monitoring their own body would notice it.
But he noticed.
He had spent nearly all his Karma, bar one precious point held in reserve. He had gained a mid-grade pill, a sliver of reputation with a crotchety alchemist, and a teaspoon of hope in a cup.
Most importantly, he had learned the currency of this new world. True power wasn't just in spirit stones or mighty techniques. It was in leverage using discarded herbs, bureaucratic laziness, and systemic inefficiencies to carve out millimeter-by-millimeter advantages. It was in understanding that every trope was a predictable wave, and with the right leverage, you could surf it instead of being drowned by it.
As he lay down on his hard pallet, the single point of light shining steady in his mind, Lin Feng allowed himself a thin, calculated smile.