Cael learned about the mission while doing what he always did—working quietly where no one thought to look.
He was returning a stack of low-grade beast manuals to their proper shelf when familiar voices drifted in from the outer hall. They were animated, excited in a restrained way that only newly awakened disciples ever managed.
"Low danger," Bo said, though his tone suggested he didn't fully trust that assessment. "But annoying."
"Anything with horns is annoying," Ren replied dryly.
Cael glanced up as Jin, Bo, and Ren entered the library together. Their robes were secured tighter than usual, sleeves bound back, the casual posture of people preparing to get dirty rather than study.
"Cael!" Bo spotted him immediately and waved. "Good timing."
Jin stepped closer, lowering his voice out of habit. "We've been assigned a sect mission."
Ren nodded. "Extermination and recovery."
Cael straightened. "What kind of beasts?"
"Horned rabbits," Jin said, grimacing. "There's a growing nest near the eastern ravine."
Cael paused. "Rabbits?"
Bo snorted. "That's what I said. Then I saw one punch through a fence with its head."
That earned a faint smile from Cael.
They gathered around a side table while Jin explained the details. The task was simple on paper: eliminate the group, prevent population rebound, and recover intact materials. The sect required the horns, feet, and fur.
"Alchemy and crafting," Ren explained. "The horns get ground for stamina pills. Feet for movement talismans. Fur goes to the merchants."
"Northbrook sells most of it to the nearby towns," Bo added. "Steady income."
Cael nodded, then surprised all three of them.
"You shouldn't focus on raw killing techniques," he said. "You'll want control and footwork manuals."
They stared.
Jin blinked. "You sure?"
"Horned rabbits rely on momentum," Cael continued, thinking through it aloud. "They accelerate fast, but their turning radius is terrible. Overcommit and you'll miss. Hesitate and you'll get gored."
Ren frowned. "That's… very specific."
"I've been cleaning the beast-response section," Cael said, gesturing vaguely at the shelves. "Horned creatures share traits. Strong legs, weak torsos, short explosive charges."
Bo exchanged a look with Jin. "Can you recommend anything?"
Cael didn't hesitate.
He led them through the stacks, stopping at two shelves.
"This one—Foundations of Reactive Footwork. Ignore the advanced chapters.""And this—Blunt Impact Redirection for Minor Beasts. The title undersells it."
Bo flipped through a few pages, then whistled. "This is actually good."
From the far end of the hall, the Bookkeeper looked up.
His gaze lingered on Cael just long enough to be noticed.
Then he returned to his work.
As they settled at a reading desk, Ren asked quietly, "How strong are these rabbits, really?"
Cael considered his words carefully.
"Humans and monsters don't level the same way," he said.
They leaned in.
"Human cultivation refines inward. Breath, intent, channels. Each level expands control and capacity." He tapped the desk. "You start fragile but adaptable."
"And monsters?" Jin asked.
"They grow outward," Cael replied. "Their levels amplify existing traits. A Level Two horned rabbit is just faster. Level Three hardens the horn. Level Four increases leg muscle density."
Bo grimaced. "So they scale sideways."
"Exactly. Less flexible. More specialized."
"And us?" Ren prompted.
"We scale upward," Cael said quietly. "Slower, but broader."
A Level Three horned rabbit matched an early Body Tempering cultivator in burst power—but lacked endurance, tactics, and adaptability. Three awakened disciples working together had a clear advantage.
As long as they didn't get careless.
Bo laughed suddenly. "Since when did you get this sharp?"
Cael shrugged. "Sweeping gives you time to think."
They packed up soon after.
Before leaving, Jin clapped Cael on the shoulder. "When we're back, lunch is on us. Assuming we don't get skewered."
"You won't," Cael said, more confidently than he felt.
They left with manuals tucked under their arms and purpose in their steps.
Cael returned to his work.
The Bookkeeper appeared beside him without warning.
"You understand beasts better than most who swing blades," the elder said mildly.
Cael stiffened. "I only repeated what I read."
The Bookkeeper hummed. "Most people read without listening."
He walked away.
Cael exhaled slowly and resumed wiping the shelf.
Even without cultivation, knowledge had weight.
And for the first time, Cael wondered if the system had always intended for him to grow strong this way first—quietly, patiently, where no one thought to look.