At a certain Hab-block Cluster in Sector Phi-8.
Zhang Wei opened his eyes after hours of stabilizing his dantian. Inspecting his body, the Qi thrummed under his skin like a caged sun. Stage Three. He'd finally broken through, after months, no, years of frustrating stagnation at the cusp of Qi Condensation Stage 2.
The feeling was intoxicating and terrifying. Power flooded his meridians, sharper, denser, and more potent than anything he'd ever wielded.
His cramped, rented room in the depths of Sector Phi-8 still smelled faintly of ozone and burnt insulation from where his control had momentarily slipped during the final push, overloading the cheap power conduit near his sleeping mat.
He'd barely managed to wrestle the surging energy back into his dantian, guided by desperation and the lingering purity of the mysterious Qi infusion.
He flexed his fingers and watched faint wisps of cyan energy dance around them.
This wasn't the muddy, sluggish Qi he'd struggled with before. This was refined and more vibrant. He could feel the difference in every breath and every heartbeat.
The Ascension Spark Loan… it had sounded like a scam and too good to be true at first. An anonymous message and an offer of pure Qi with repayment tied only to success?
Nobody did that. Not the Sect-Corps with their crushing recruitment contracts and certainly not the loan sharks with their soul-binding interest rates. Yet, he'd been desperate. He'd been stuck in a dead-end job cleaning reclamation vats, barely earning enough for nutrient paste and rent as he watched his meager cultivation potential wither. He'd taken the gamble.
And it worked.
Gratitude warred with a deep, gnawing anxiety.
The energy surge during the breakthrough… it hadn't been subtle. He'd felt the ripple effect, the sudden spike disrupting the ambient Qi field of the entire hab-block. Has anyone noticed?
Muni-sensors were everywhere, sniffing for unregistered energy signatures, illegal cultivation practices. And then there were… others. The predators who stalked the Lower Layers. They are always watching for signs of weakness or unexpected strength they could exploit.
He needed to move. His room wasn't secure anymore. He started gathering his few belongings. A spare set of utility clothes, his worn toolkit and the burner comm unit he'd used to contact the mysterious 'Investor'
He had to thank him, somehow. More importantly, he had to uphold his end of the contract. Success meant repayment, automatically siphoned, they'd said. He hoped it had gone through cleanly. He didn't want trouble with benefactors powerful enough to manifest pure Qi out of thin air.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Zhang Wei froze, his newly potent Qi flaring instinctively before he clamped down on it and forced himself to calm down.
The knock wasn't soft at all. It was heavy, insistent and vibrating through the flimsy plasti-steel door. Not the landlord. Not his neighbors. This felt different. Wrong.
Almost instantly, his instincts told him to be guarded.
He crept towards the door, peering through the cracked optical sensor embedded beside the frame. Two figures stood outside, bulky, dressed in the mismatched, functional armor favored by Lower Layer enforcers and gang members.
Their faces were grim, with their wild eyes assessing as they scanned the corridor.
One of them idly slapped a heavy wrench against his palm.
Zhang Wei's blood ran cold. He recognized the crude insignia crudely stenciled on their shoulder pads. A stylized, blood-red abacus. Crimson Abacus Syndicate. Loan sharks. Thugs. The kind of people you never wanted knocking on your door.
He hadn't borrowed from them. He'd been tempted, once, but their terms were terrifying. Why were they here?
The energy surge, he realized with dawning horror. They weren't debt collectors. They were hunters, drawn by the scent of power.
Knock. Knock. BANG! The door shuddered under a heavy blow.
"Open up! We know you're in there!" A rough voice growled from outside. "Just wanna talk about the light show earlier."
Zhang Wei's mind raced. Fight? Flee? His room was a trap, the single window leading to a straight drop into a refuse reclamation vortex.
Negotiation with Crimson Abacus thugs was a fool's errand. They wouldn't knock on your door if you weren't their target. And considering they worked with seizing high-interest rates from their borrowers, their cultivation was incomparable to someone like him who had to work hard in order to afford the Qi-Credits needed for his breakthroughs.
He had to buy time, create a diversion, or something. His newly potent Qi, still raw and barely contained, thrummed within him, a desperate animal wanting to lash out.
BANG! Another impact, louder this time. The cheap plasti-steel doorframe groaned, splinters of polymer raining onto the floor. The lock mechanism was clearly failing.
He backed away, his eyes darting around the cramped space. His gaze fell on the overloaded power conduit near his sleeping mat, the source of the lingering ozone smell. An idea, reckless and desperate, sparked in his mind.
With a final, splintering crash, the lock gave way and the door burst inward. The two goons filled the doorway, momentarily silhouetted against the dim corridor light. One was tall and thin, with greasy hair and cybernetic replacements glinting on one arm – the one with the wrench. The other was shorter, broader, with a flat, brutal face and dead eyes.
"Well, well. Lookie here," the wrench-wielder sneered, stepping inside, his eyes scanning the room, lingering on the scorch mark near the power conduit. "Bit of a power surge, huh? Felt it all the way down the block."
As the wrench-wielder advanced, Zhang Wei acted.
He poured a fraction of his newly enhanced Stage 3 Qi – raw, unstable, and far more potent than he was truly accustomed to handling – directly into the already damaged power conduit.
He didn't try to refine it or control it beyond a crude directional push. He just shoved.
The conduit, already stressed from his earlier breakthrough, couldn't handle the sudden, violent influx.
With a blinding flash and a deafening noise, it exploded.
CRACK! BOOM!
Sparks, molten plastic, and a wave of concussive force erupted outwards.
The room's cheap lumen-strip shattered, plunging them into momentary darkness, broken only by the shower of incandescent particles.
The wrench wielder yelled in surprise and pain as the shrapnel and electrical discharge arced across his cybernetic arm, causing it to seize and spark violently. The broader thug, caught off guard, stumbled back, shielding his face. The air filled with the acrid stench of burning electronics and vaporized insulation.
Zhang Wei, already anticipating the backlash, had thrown himself to the side, rolling behind his flimsy sleeping mat. The explosion wasn't powerful enough to be lethal in itself, but it was disorienting, chaotic. It was the diversion he needed.
"Gah! My arm! The little Qi-sucking rat!" The wrench-wielder roared, clutching his sparking limb. His optical sensors were likely flickering, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness and electrical interference.
The broader thug coughed, waving smoke from his face. "Where'd he go? Grab him!"
Before they could fully recover, Zhang Wei was already on his feet. He didn't try to engage them directly.
Even with his new power, two experienced street thugs in close quarters were a deadly threat. Instead, he used the momentary confusion. He kicked over his metal toolkit, sending wrenches, spanners, and salvaged components clattering across the floor in the darkness, creating another layer of distraction and potential trip hazards.
Then, fueled by adrenaline and his surging Qi, he lunged for the shattered remnants of his doorway. He slammed his shoulder into the broader thug, who was still trying to get his bearings. The impact wasn't enough to topple the larger man, but it sent him staggering, creating a precious half-second opening.