The spirit stones lay on the table like a quiet accusation.
Fifty low-grade stones.
Gu Hao counted them twice.
They represented nearly a quarter of the Gu Clan's remaining liquid wealth. Enough to sustain training for weeks. Enough to feed mortals through a difficult month.
Enough to regret.
He did not reach for them immediately.
Instead, he walked the clan grounds.
The outer disciples were already awake, hauling water and firewood. Mortals moved quietly, eyes lowered, careful not to draw attention. A few young cultivators practiced basic techniques in the corner of the yard, their movements stiff, unrefined.
No one laughed.
This was not a clan preparing to grow.
This was a clan trying not to disappear.
Only after the sun dipped below the hills did Gu Hao return to his room.
He sat.
Placed the stones on the table.
And only then spoke.
"I consent."
The stones vanished.
[Legacy Simulation Complete]
Duration: 1 Year
Clan Status: Extinct
Population: 73 → 0
Primary Causes:
Food Shortage Cultivation Stagnation External Pressure
Gu Hao exhaled slowly.
One year.
No dramatic wars.
No internal betrayals.
No great disasters.
Just… erosion.
He waited.
Nothing more appeared.
No second future.
No alternative path.
The simulator did not offer comfort or instruction.
It had answered the only question he had asked:
If nothing changes, what happens?
Gu Hao leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
He did not feel despair.
He felt focus.
"One year," he murmured. "Then that's the window."
He did not activate the simulator again.
Instead, he began to think.
Food came first.
Not cultivation manuals. Not combat techniques.
Food.
Mortals produced it. Cultivators consumed it. And yet, the fields were poorly managed, yields inconsistent, storage chaotic.
No accounting.
No reserve planning.
No responsibility assigned.
On Earth, businesses didn't fail because people were lazy.
They failed because no one owned the problem.
Gu Hao opened the clan ledger.
It was incomplete. Sloppy. Emotional in places where it should have been precise.
He rewrote it.
By hand.
By dawn, he had a list.
Fields.
People.
Skills.
Waste.
This was not a grand strategy.
It was survival.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Gu Hao felt something close to certainty.
Not that the clan would thrive.
But that it did not have to die quietly.
Outside, the Gu Clan stirred.
Unaware that its patriarch had decided not to ask the future any more questions…
Until he had earned better answers.
The first caravan never arrived.
Gu Hao stood on the eastern watch platform as the sun climbed higher, the road below stretching empty into the hills. Dust rose occasionally in the distance, but it was always a traveler turning away, not approaching.
By noon, the answer was clear.
"They stopped it again," Gu Jian said behind him.
Gu Hao didn't turn. "How?"
"Inspection," Gu Jian replied flatly. "Three cultivators from the Liu Clan. Said our permit seals were outdated."
"And the grain?"
"Confiscated."
Gu Hao closed his eyes.
This was the third caravan that month.
No declarations.
No banners of war.
Just pressure applied precisely where it hurt.
"How long can we last without trade?" Gu Hao asked.
Gu Jian hesitated. "If the fields were healthy? A year, maybe."
"And now?"
Gu Jian didn't answer.
The Gu Clan's fields lay south of the compound, terraced along a shallow slope. They looked peaceful at a distance, green shoots swaying gently in the wind.
Up close, they told a different story.
Gu Hao knelt, ignoring the damp earth soaking into his robes, and ran the soil through his fingers.
It was pale. Powdery.
Dead.
A farmer nearby watched him nervously. "Patriarch… the elders say Heaven is displeased."
Gu Hao glanced at the man. His hands were cracked, nails rimmed with dirt that never quite washed away.
"How long have you planted the same crop here?" Gu Hao asked.
The farmer blinked. "As long as I can remember. As long as my father did."
"And his father?"
"Yes."
Gu Hao nodded slowly.
That explained a great deal.
He uprooted one of the plants carefully. The roots were chewed through, darkened, half-rotted. Tiny larvae writhed in the soil, pale and blind.
Pests.
But not the kind people noticed.
Above ground, everything looked fine.
Below it, the system was collapsing.
Gu Hao straightened, brushing dirt from his hands.
"This isn't Heaven," he said calmly. "It's exhaustion."
The farmer stared at him. "Patriarch?"
"We've been taking from the land," Gu Hao continued, more to himself than anyone else, "and never giving back what it needs."
Gu Jian frowned. "Can this be fixed?"
Gu Hao looked across the fields.
"Yes," he said. "But not with talismans."
That evening, the elders gathered again.
Gu Hao did not speak of long-term visions or survival windows.
He spoke of ash.
"Burned crop waste," he explained. "Mixed with animal refuse. Fermented. Spread before the next planting."
Elder Gu Yuan frowned. "You want to… dirty the fields?"
"I want to feed them," Gu Hao replied.
"And the insects?"
"Smoke the soil before planting. Lime solution along the borders."
Silence.
"This is… mortal knowledge," one elder said slowly.
Gu Hao met his gaze. "Mortals are the ones feeding us."
No one argued after that.
The work began the next day.
Gu Hao worked alongside them.
He carried ash.
Dug trenches.
Burned his hands on lime.
Some cultivators whispered. Some laughed quietly.
The patriarch ignored it.
That night, exhausted, he stood alone and placed fifty spirit stones on the table.
Not to escape responsibility.
But to measure it.
"I consent," he said.
[Legacy Simulation Complete]
Duration: 1 Year
Clan Status: Near-Extinction
Population: 73 → 19
Positive Indicators:
Food Stability (Partial) Internal Order Improved
Nineteen.
Not survival.
But not zero.
Gu Hao released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
He did not smile.
But for the first time, the future had… shifted.
Outside, the fields lay quiet.
And beneath the soil, something long-starved had finally begun to recover.