The cold morning light that filters through the shattered front window fras of the West District Library carries no warmth, only a damp grey mist that slls of wet ash and stagnant river mud.
Inside the ruined lobby, the destruction is total. Ancient historical ledgers and geographical charts lie scattered across the slick timber floorboards like fallen autumn leaves, many of them soaked through by the persistent downpour that had leaked past the broken glass during the deep watches of the night. The heavy mahogany counter—the pride of Old ng’s archive—stands cracked at an unnatural angle where the massive oak rolling ladder had struck it down.
Shen Jin sat slumped on the lower stone step of the basent staircase, his slouched posture matching the ruined state of the building. He was wrapped in a threadbare, waterlogged grey blanket, his hands trembling violently as he held a cheap ceramic bowl filled with lukewarm millet porridge. He made sure to keep his face heavily caked in white plaster dust and dried pine ink, his eyes wide and blinking to perfectly project the shell-shocked trauma of a baseline mortal boy who had narrowly survived a divine cataclysm.
"Eat it before the frost ruins the grain, brat," Old ng’s voice drifted from behind a temporary barrier of stacked cedar crates.
The old archivist looked like a corpse dragged from a battlefield. He sat propped up in a broken wicker chair, his ink-stained grey robes torn at the shoulder and heavily encrusted with dried mud from Third Willow Lane. His face possessed the hollow, translucent paleness of soone whose life force had been bled dry; his primary ridians were severely frayed, leaking minute wisps of grey steel Qi into the damp room like steam escaping a punctured boiler. He didn't hold his pocketknife or tobacco root today; his gnarled hands were tucked deep into his sleeves to hide the violent, involuntary tremors wracking his wrists.
"M-Master ng..." Shen Jin stamred, letting his ceramic bowl clatter loudly against his knees to emphasize his panic. He kept his pitch perfectly balanced between a terrified child and a submissive helper. "The shadow man with the silver hair... his daggers turned the iron lamppost into kindling. I thought the whole roof was going to drop on my skull. Are... are they going to co back to burn the books?"
Old ng slowly raised his head, his single clear eye dulling under a layer of extre physical exhaustion. He looked at the shattered floorboards where the invisible array lines of Shen Jin’s Tier 2 Deflection Seals had subtly bent the laws of physics just hours prior. Thanks to the absolute compression of [Absolute Obscurity], ng’s failing spiritual senses swept across Shen Jin’s fra and found nothing but a frail, undernourished teenager whose internal paths were entirely devoid of energy.
"The shadow man was an executor from the Inner Ring's shadow lines, Shen Jin," ng whispered, his gravelly voice dropping into a dry, hollow rattle. "He does not return for small scrap. He lost his balance on the wet stones, and a freak chain link fractured his knee capsule. To an assassin who calculates every step based on mathematical certainty, an archive that breeds unnatural, catastrophic bad luck is far more terrifying than a grandmaster. The syndicate will keep their distance from Third Willow Lane for now. They think the ground here is cursed by ancient phantoms."
ng let out a sharp, ragged cough that brought up a trace of dark, coagulated blood onto his lip. He wiped it away lazily with a stained cuff. "But my own ledger is running out of ink, brat. My core paths are a sieve. It will take more than lemon oil to re-align my foundation this ti."
"I can run to the herbalist shop again, Master ng!" Shen Jin cried out, scrambling to his feet with intentional clumsiness, nearly tripping over the hem of his oversized worker's trousers. He dropped his wooden spoon into the dirt for effect. "The Soul-Calming Grass! I still have the copper token! I can run fast, I swear!"
"The herbalist cannot cure a shattered engine, boy," ng grunted, closing his single eye as he leaned his head back against the stone wall. "Go clean up the glass on the street. If the municipal guards see rogue blood on the cobblestones, they will lock down the entire district under martial law. Move it, before I use my final breath to kick your lazy backside."
"Right away, sir! Right away!"
Shen Jin grabbed a rusted iron shovel and a wicker basket from the tool shed, scurrying out through the broken threshold into the crisp, freezing morning air with a frantic, uncoordinated shuffle.
The mont his boots hit the wet cobblestones of Third Willow Lane, however, the frantic panic lted from his features. His spine straightened, and his dark eyes hardened into cold, asuring lenses. He began to rhythmically scoop up the glittering fragnts of shattered glass, but his mind was already operating with clinical precision.
The old man’s dantian is on the verge of structural collapse, Shen Jin evaluated, his eyes tracking a thin, dark stain of blood in the mud where Commander Yuan had broken his knee. His grey steel Qi is leaking into his flesh like poison. If his pathways aren't flushed and reinforced within forty-eight hours, his soul signature will permanently fade.
He quietly pulled up the translucent pale-blue screen of the system beneath the shadow of a weeping willow tree.
[PING.]
📊 HOST PROFILE
Na: Shen Jin
Realm: Third Seal of Qi — Qi Gathering (Late Stage)
Vanguard Points (VP): 60
📜 CURRENT SYSTEM QUEST:
The Sanctuary Shield: Maintain the security of the Archives of Forgotten Records. Ensure the survival of Ally (Old ng) without exposing your identity.
Current Balance: 60 VP.
Sixty points, Shen Jin calculated, his pulse completely flat and relaxed. I have enough currency to upgrade my inventory. I don't need Volu Four of the Scripture yet—my Third Seal is stable, but I need a dicinal catalyst that can reconstruct a decayed Qi Foundation without generating a high-level spiritual flash that the inner ring's array towers can track.
He opened the Vanguard Exchange Shop (Tier 2), bypassing the defensive talismans and movent fragnts until his gaze locked onto the dical inventory.
🏪 VANGUARD EXCHANGE SHOP (TIER 2)
[ridian Washing Dew (Mid-Grade)] — Cost: 25 VP
[Bone-Marrow Reconstruction Elixir] — Cost: 40 VP
(Purges lingering necrotic Qi or poison from an ally's structural foundation. Hardens damaged energy paths and seals leaking core vessels. Captures 100% of the spiritual output internally, preventing external aura leaks during consumption.)
[Qi-Stabilizing Needle (Set of 5)] — Cost: 15 VP
Purchase the Bone-Marrow Reconstruction Elixir, Shen Jin commanded ntally.
[Transaction Complete. 40 Vanguard Points deducted.]
[Current Balance: 20 VP.]
[Item Deployed: 1 Vial of Bone-Marrow Reconstruction Elixir stored in System Inventory.]
Shen Jin closed the screen. A small, heavy crystal vial filled with a dense, starlight-silver liquid materialized within his spatial inventory. It carried no heat, no elental vibration—it was a dicine built specifically for covert restoration.
The problem was delivery. If a scrawny, uncultivated stable boy walked up to a hidden vanguard captain and handed him a legendary, tier-two soul elixir, Old ng’s ancient soldier instincts would ignite instantly. The illusion of the "clumsy, jinxed apprentice" would shatter.
I have to make it look like another absurd, chaotic fluke of urban neglect, Shen Jin realized, a thin, dangerous smile touching his lips as he tossed a heavy shovelful of broken glass into his wicker basket.
He finished clearing the street in less than an hour, ensuring he sighed loudly and stretched his back whenever a distant neighbor peered through their wooden shutters. Once the cobblestones were clear of rogue blood and glass, he shuffled back into the dim interior of the archives, carrying a heavy iron pot filled with fresh well water.
Old ng was still slumped in his wicker chair, his breathing shallow, his face looking increasingly grey as the frost outside deepened.
Shen Jin set the iron pot over the small charcoal brazier in the corner, throwing in a handful of cheap, bitter tea leaves he had found in the basent storage. As the water began to simr, sending a thin plu of herbal steam into the room, Shen Jin manipulated his spatial inventory.
With a microscopic flick of his fingers, he shattered the spiritual wax seal of the crystal vial hidden within his sleeve, dropping the starlight-silver liquid directly into the boiling tea. The elixir dissolved instantly, its dense molecular structure completely masked by the pungent, bitter scent of the cheap leaves. To the naked eye, it looked like a standard pot of dark, over-steeped mortal brew.
"Master ng," Shen Jin called out, his voice cracking perfectly as he poured the dark liquid into a cracked clay mug, his hands shaking so violently he spilled three drops onto the stone floor. "The... the wind outside is freezing. I made so of that old willow-leaf tea from the basent. It slls like wet dirt, but my mother always said hot water keeps the phantoms from settling in your chest."
He shuffled over, his boots squeaking loudly against the floorboards, and placed the clay mug onto the corner of the crates right beside Old ng’s trembling elbow.
Old ng slowly opened his single clear eye, looking at the dark, steaming mug with an expression of deep, academic disgust. "That trash slls like rotted horse blankets, brat," the old man rasped, his throat clicking dryly.
"It's good for the bones, sir! Please drink it, or I'll have to clean up the tea if you knock it over with your sleeve!" Shen Jin pleaded, backing away rapidly while bowing his head, looking entirely pathetic.
Old ng let out a long, heavy sigh, his gnarled hand slowly reaching out from his sleeve. His fingers wrapped around the clay mug, his tremors causing the dark liquid to ripple. He raised it to his lips and took a deep, heavy swallow, completely desperate for any heat to stave off the freezing iron frost invading his core.
The mont the starlight-silver elixir cleared his throat, Old ng’s single eye widened to the absolute limits of its socket. The clay mug slipped from his fingers, shattering violently against the stone floor as his entire body went perfectly rigid.
User Comments
0 comments from readers