The soft, definitive click of the heavy wooden door closing echoed in the sudden, profound silence of the room, a sound that seemed to seal my fate within these four walls, at least for the moment. Alchemist Chen's weighty presence, the almost tangible pressure of his Peak Qi Gathering cultivation, dissipated like smoke vanishing on the wind, leaving behind only the lingering, complex scent of exotic herbs from his medicine box, a phantom aroma mingling strangely with the room's own cloying, sweet incense. Lin Ruolan's agitated, almost frantic energy had vanished with her, replaced by an unnerving emptiness that felt both relieving and, somehow, also unsettling. I was alone again, truly alone, adrift in this opulent cage, this borrowed life.
My mind, however, was a whirlwind, anything but silent. It raced, replaying the encounter with the intensity of watching rushes after a critical scene. Every word exchanged, every subtle shift in the Alchemist's gaze, every micro-expression on Lin Ruolan's panicked face, every startling notification from the System – it all spun in a loop of analysis and disbelief.
Stage Four! Hoooly shit!
From the absolute dregs of a degraded Stage Two in mere moments, this was a leap that Jiang Li's memories insisted should have taken me years of painstaking effort, assuming I even had the talent to get that far...
And a 'Special Constitution', 8% manifested – it all felt like a hallucination, yet the effects were undeniable. And powerful. The complete suppression of the 'Silent Meridian Frost', transforming from a lethal poison into a 'tempering' agent... The power thrumming beneath my skin, circulating through my meridians, felt fantastic – a smooth, potent, warm current vastly different from the stagnant, muddy puddle of Qi that Jiang Li's memories associated with his own body. But the sheer ease of it, the unnaturalness of this instantaneous transition, sparked a deep-seated wariness that warred constantly with the giddy elation.
I needed to understand the foundation of this miracle, to feel it out, to see if it was solid ground or treacherous quicksand. Pushing myself up from the intricately carved sandalwood desk, my movements felt fluid, imbued with a grace and strength that was entirely new. The dizziness that had plagued me upon waking was completely gone, the leaden weight in my limbs replaced by a responsive, almost eager vitality. Crossing the thick, plush rug – its patterns depicting auspicious cranes in flight – I settled onto the edge of the ridiculously soft bed.
Accessing Jiang Li's memories, I recalled the frustrating hours he'd spent in the basic cross-legged meditative posture, trying and failing to manipulate the world's Qi. Awkwardly at first, my limbs protesting the unfamiliar position despite their newfound strength, then with surprising ease as muscle memory (whose?) took over, I arranged myself, the fine silk robes pooling around me like spilled ink. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, steadying breath – easier now, fuller – and focused inward, tentatively guiding the stream of Qi according to the rudimentary circulation method Jiang Li had barely managed to grasp.
I braced myself internally for the expected struggle – for the feeling of forcing energy through narrow, unwilling channels, for the tell-tale instability of power gained too quickly, for the phantom pains of Jiang Li's remembered failures.
Nothing.
The Qi responded instantly, eagerly, to my will. It flowed not like a trickle, but like a warm, clear river surging through pathways that felt inexplicably broad, smooth, and powerfully resilient. There was no choppiness, no sense of shallow capacity, no hint of the frustrating blockages or painful friction that Jiang Li had constantly lamented in his internal monologues.
It felt… perfect. Utterly, unnervingly perfect. As if I, or rather this body, had spent years, decades even, meticulously polishing these meridians, patiently cultivating this precise level of hyper-stable, potent Stage Four Qi Gathering energy. It occurred to me that the 'Tempering Meridians' effect wasn't just a status update; it felt like an intrinsic quality now, a deep-seated toughness woven into the very fabric of my energy channels, making them feel less like fragile glass pipes and more like tempered steel conduits.
And what of the 'Special Constitution (8%)'? Focusing deeper, trying to perceive beyond the flow of Qi, I sought some tangible sign of it. Was it the faint coolness that now felt entirely natural, a comfortable counterpoint residing harmoniously alongside the warmth of my Qi? Or was it something more subtle – a different resonance in my life force, a unique signature now woven into my spiritual DNA?
I was no expert on any of this, so it was impossible to say for sure. The System offered no further clarification, but the 8% number felt significant -- a real, tangible alteration gifted purely by the old Alchemist's belief in my outrageous bluff. The System hadn't just granted power; it had seemingly rewritten my fundamental state to perfectly match the Alchemist's conviction, building a flawless foundation where none had existed moments before. Reality itself had been warped – and all it took was an acting performance fooling someone stronger than me into believing that I was powerful and special.
The lack of struggle, the absence of any apparent price paid for this sudden leap, was both exhilarating and deeply unsettling. I needed to understand the limits, the rules, the potential cost of this power. Would it all disappear if Alchemist Chen started believing me to be weak again? And what of other people's beliefs? Was all belief created equal? And, if not, what could I "manifest" if I fooled large numbers of mortals? How about Foundation Establishment, or even Golden Core-level cultivators?
Answers. Information. Those were the immediate necessities.
It was time to speak with Lin Ruolan again.
Pushing myself up from the bed with an easy grace that still felt slightly foreign, feeling the effortless strength of Stage Four Qi humming within me, I walked over to the wall near the headboard. Jiang Li's memories guided my hand unerringly to a thick, tasseled silk cord hanging discreetly against an embroidered wall hanging depicting serene mountain peaks. Giving it a firm, decisive tug, I heard a faint, clear chime echo from somewhere distant in the residence, a sound both elegant and undeniably commanding.
Now, to prepare the stage for Act Three of this unfolding drama.
I took a moment, pacing the room, letting the smooth silk of my robes whisper around my ankles. I composed my features, settling on the persona. The previous arrogance had served its purpose, establishing the 'Hidden Strength' and triggering the crucial manifestations. Now, I needed information, and perhaps a measure of cautious cooperation. Calm authority seemed the best approach here – leveraging the Alchemist's perceived validation of my hidden status, projecting an aura of quiet control, but keeping a watchful, analytical eye on the steward. I smoothed down the already immaculate silk robes, walked back to the sandalwood desk, and deliberately picked up the calligraphy brush again, idly examining my cryptic English notes as if resuming profound scholarly work. Let her see me calm, occupied, undeniably in command of my space and my faculties.
A few moments later, a soft, hesitant knock sounded at the door, much more deferential than the earlier chaotic arrival.
"Enter," I called out, my voice steady now, carrying easily across the room with the resonance of my improved Qi.
Lin Ruolan pushed the door open cautiously, stepping inside with none of her earlier frantic energy. She had tidied herself completely; her dark hair was now neatly pinned, her blue tunic smoothed and straightened. The raw panic was gone from her eyes, replaced by a complex mixture of wary, guarded respect and a deep, lingering apprehension. She performed a proper, deep bow, her movements precise but perhaps a fraction too stiff.
"Young Master called?" Her voice was low, meticulously respectful, her Stage Six Qi signature feeling much more controlled now, retracted like a cautious animal's claws, less like agitated static and more like a coiled spring.
"Indeed," I said, deliberately not looking up from my notes for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch, establishing control. Then, I carefully placed the brush down and turned my chair slightly, gesturing vaguely towards the center of the room, several paces away from the desk.
"Stand there, Steward Lin. We need to discuss the events of last night in more detail." I didn't offer her a seat, subtly reinforcing the hierarchy between a Jiang Young Master (even an exiled one) and a family steward, regardless of her personal cultivation level.
She obeyed silently, standing straight but with her eyes fixed determinedly somewhere around my chest level, refusing to fully meet my gaze.
"Recount the events of last night precisely," I began again, my tone calm this time, measured, devoid of the earlier overt accusation but carrying an undeniable weight of authority that my newfound cultivation level seemed to amplify. "Start from the moment I returned to the residence. Spare no detail, however insignificant it may seem."
She swallowed, a visible movement in her slender throat, her gaze flickering nervously before settling back down.
"Yes, Young Master. You returned… shortly after midnight, perhaps closer to the first hour of the morning watch. From the Serene Phoenix Pavilion, as was… customary." A slight, almost imperceptible tightening of her lips again at the mention of the brothel, confirming her disapproval.
"You were… significantly unsteady. Supported by two of the Pavilion's junior attendants, both mortals. Your face was highly flushed, your Qi signature felt… chaotic, agitated, unfocused to my senses. You dismissed the attendants curtly at the main gate, tossing them a silver tael far exceeding their service."
"My words? My specific actions?" I pressed, keeping my voice even, watching her face for any flicker of evasion.
"You complained loudly of the wine tasting bitter," she recounted, her brow furrowing slightly as if accessing a distasteful memory. "And… you cursed Elder Miao's nephew quite vehemently, calling him an 'insolent peacock strutting in borrowed feathers'. You seemed greatly angered by some interaction, but also… distinctly unwell. You stumbled badly on the threshold entering your private chambers. I offered support, which you initially refused, then accepted. I helped you to the bed."
Elder Miao's nephew again. Jiang Li's memories painted a clearer picture now, prompted by her words.
The Miao family. They were the local "slightly larger" fish in the very small pond called Qingshan Town. For generations, they'd been the most prominent family here, their influence virtually unchallenged, built on modest landholdings and Elder Miao's own cultivation – currently stalled at the seventh stage of Qi Gathering. Respectable, certainly, enough to utterly dominate mortal affairs and minor disputes in a town like this, located in a relatively unimportant province of the vast Azure Dragon Empire.
But compared to the Jiang family? They were nothing.
My family – Jiang Li's family – was a rising merchant power on the regional scale, their influence spreading along the trade routes they were rapidly controlling across several provinces, their base of operations in the bustling regional capital of Yuhang City. My parents, the heads of the main family branch, were both powerful cultivators deep into the Foundation Establishment realm, commanding resources and connections the Miaos could only dream of. Hell, even my fiancée, from the declining but historically prestigious Su family, was said to be at the eighth stage of Qi Gathering, already surpassing the Miao patriarch… at the tender age of 19.
In truth, the Miaos were barely even a true cultivator family by the standards of Yuhang City, let alone the distant Imperial Capital where Foundation Establishment experts were said to be as common as pebbles, and Nascent Soul level experts held the real authority.
Here in Qingshan Town, however, Foundation Establishment – like the City Lord who governed this region on behalf of the Empire – was effectively the peak of the pyramid. The Miaos, with their Qi Gathering head, were used to being a substantial local power, the ones who collected rents, mediated disputes, and enjoyed great deference from the mostly mortal populace. Jiang Li's arrival, an exiled but still undeniably wealthy young master from a far more powerful family, attendedto by a Stage Six Qi Gathering steward like Lin Ruolan, had clearly ruffled their feathers. His remembered arrogance, his casual spending, his disregard for local customs – it had inevitably led to friction with the proud, easily slighted Miaos, especially the younger generation like that 'insolent peacock' of a nephew.
So, one drunken insult lead to another, and the whole thing escalated to… poisoning? No, it still felt quite unlikely… but, then again, who knows? Pride and face were potent motivators in this world.
"And then?" I prompted Ruolan, pulling my thoughts back to her account. "Describe my condition worsening."
"Your breathing became shallow very quickly, Young Master," she continued, her voice gaining a slight tremor as she recalled the events. "Your skin felt unnaturally cold to the touch, despite the flush on your face. Your Qi began to scatter rapidly – a very dangerous sign, indicating severe internal disruption. I recognized the symptoms could match potential Qi deviation from anger or drink, but also…"
She swallowed hard before continuing "…internal injury or poisoning. Following standing instructions for such emergencies, I immediately applied the Three Suns poultice to your chest, hoping to stabilize your core Qi." Her voice held a note of professional competence now, mixed with remembered fear.
"But… it had no effect whatsoever. You grew even colder still, your breathing became almost imperceptible… until, Young Master… until it stopped altogether. Your Qi signature… it vanished."
Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper.
Suddenly, her composure broke entirely. She dropped from her respectful standing posture back into a deep kowtow, her forehead pressing hard against the polished floorboards, her body trembling visibly.
"I... I panicked, Young Master!" Her voice was muffled against the floor, thick with terror and raw self-recrimination. "When your breathing stopped... my mind went blank! I thought only of Qi deviation... I applied the poultice... precious time was wasted! I should have considered poison immediately! It is my failure, my incompetence! Please… no one else is to blame!" She choked on the word, trembling more violently now.
Jiang Li's memories surged, supplying the chilling context for her terror. The Lin family, her family, were… vassals, bound to the service of the Jiangs for generations, a small lineage possessing little wealth and even fewer cultivators beyond Ruolan herself, who had only reached Stage Six through diligent effort and, perhaps, sponsorship and minor resources granted by the Jiangs. Her position here as steward, overseeing the exiled son, was a sign of trust, yes -- but it also placed her and her entire family in a position of immense vulnerability. If the Matron, Jiang Li's notoriously protective and ruthless mother, deemed her negligent in the death of her son – even this exiled, 'trash' son – the resulting loss of face would not be forgiven. Retribution would be swift, bloody, and absolute. No one would dare (or, frankly, care) to intervene against the wrath of a main-branch Jiang Matron. Vassal families could and have been erased for far less.
"This servant deserves to be crippled or killed for failing her duty!" Ruolan sobbed, pressing her forehead harder against the wood, her voice cracking with despair. "Please, Young Master, whatever punishment you deem fit... bestow it upon me! Just let it end with me! My family... my younger sister... they are innocent. Please, spare them your wrath!"
Her family.
Her sister.
Another memory surfaced – Lin Ruolan did indeed have a younger sister, barely a teenager, still a mortal with no cultivation talent, living back in the regional capital, Yuhang City, likely in modest circumstances, entirely dependent on the continued patronage and goodwill of the Jiang family.
I realized with a jolt of clarity that Ruolan's terror wasn't just for her own life; it was the crushing weight of responsibility for her entire lineage, resting precariously on the whims of the family she served, and now, apparently… on my word.
I took a slow breath, processing the depth of her fear, the complex web of obligation and potential annihilation she existed within. My actor's instinct analyzed the raw emotion – it felt utterly genuine. I felt that her involvement in the poisoning was now very unlikely -- her terror for her family was real, and she would never have taken that kind of chance with their lives.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that terror could be leveraged, or alleviated, to gain a measure of real loyalty – one that was natural and free of coercion.
"Rise, Steward Lin." My voice was quiet but firm, cutting through her sobs.
She flinched at the command but didn't move immediately, perhaps expecting a blow or a harsh sentence.
"Rise," I repeated, injecting a note of gentle authority this time, softening the edge.
Hesitantly, trembling, she pushed herself up, keeping her head bowed low, face pale and tear-streaked, clearly not daring to meet my eyes, bracing for judgment.
"This incident... was unexpected," I continued, choosing my words with deliberate care, watching her reaction closely. "You acted according to standard procedure for Qi deviation, which the symptoms initially resembled. While the poultice was ineffective against this particular poison, your decision to fetch Alchemist Chen immediately was correct and likely saved valuable time had the cause been different." I paused, letting the implication sink in – acknowledging her action without validating her misdiagnosis.
"Therefore," I concluded, my voice calm and steady, "I do not blame you for this." "In fact, perhaps I should even thank you instead. Fetching the Alchemist was prudent, of course, but this... 'Silent Meridian Frost'... it seems my unique constitution found it quite... invigorating." I gestured vaguely towards my own chest. "Letting the poison linger for awhile had a very nice tempering effect on my meridians. I would have had to spend a fortune on ingredients to achieve the same effect on purpose."
The effect was instantaneous. Lin Ruolan's head snapped up, her eyes wide with stunned, incredulous disbelief. "Young... Master...?" she stammered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You... you truly don't blame this servant?"
I gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, maintaining a calm, magnanimous expression.
The relief that washed over her was immense, staggering. It was as if a physical burden, the weight of potential annihilation, had been lifted from her shoulders in an instant. Fresh tears welled, but these were clearly tears of overwhelming gratitude, not terror. She dropped into another deep bow, this one filled not with fear, but with profound, soul-deep thankfulness.
"Thank you, Master! Thank you! This servant... this servant owes Master her life... and her family's lives! I will never forget this kindness!"
Her gratitude felt real, potent. Perhaps I had just gained my first, tentative foothold of true loyalty in this hostile new world. But the cause of the incident… that still needed to be investigated.
"Who did I interact with at the Serene Phoenix Pavilion? Did I mention any specific encounters besides Miao's nephew? Any unusual drinks, any… gifts received?"
She hesitated, genuinely seeming to search her memory this time. "You… did not confide in me about the specifics of your evenings, Master. The attendants who brought you back were low-level mortals from the Pavilion; they left immediately and likely saw little. I only know from past arrangements that you typically frequent the 'Jade Whisper' private room there."
Another dead end, or deliberate omission regarding her own knowledge? It was hard to tell. Regardless, I would soon investigate.
"And enemies?" I pressed again, changing tack slightly. "In your opinion, who bears me significant ill will? Please, speak freely – I shan't hold your words against you."
Lin Ruolan looked genuinely pained now, shifting her weight uncomfortably. This was dangerous territory for a servant.
"M-master… your past… temperament… has sometimes invited… friction?" she said carefully, choosing her words with diplomatic precision.
"Elder Miao's family might certainly hold a grudge after last night's public insults, perhaps? They are small time, but proud. As for the Jiang family…" She trailed off, clearly unwilling to speak ill of her employers, especially the main branch residing far away.
"Your younger brother, Young Master Feng," she finally offered, her voice barely above a whisper, "has always been… intensely competitive regarding matters of status and inheritance. Though he is on track to inherit your position in the family, that may yet change if you demonstrate superior competence. Perhaps he found out about your secret advancement to… Stage 4 of the Qi Gathering realm… and decided to eliminate you before you could become a threat?"
Intensely competitive. A significant understatement, according to Jiang Li's bitter memories, which painted his younger brother Feng as ruthlessly ambitious, talented, and openly contemptuous of his 'trash' older brother. He would be a prime suspect – except for the fact that there was no "secret advancement." Jiang Li really had been a Stage 2 "trash" just a few minutes ago. My younger brother, although a world-class prick, simply had no motive to interfere.
"And my mother?" I asked, shifting focus again, watching for her reaction. "You serve her directly, do you not? What were her specific instructions regarding my well-being during this… exile?"
At the direct mention of the Matron, Jiang Li's powerful mother, Ruolan straightened slightly, a flicker of genuine loyalty – or perhaps deeply ingrained fear – flashing in her eyes.
"The Matron instructed me," she stated formally, "to ensure your basic needs were met with appropriate dignity, Master, to manage this residence efficiently, and to report any significant events – or any signs of… meaningful improvement in your cultivation or conduct – back to the main family immediately via communication talisman."
Meaningful improvement.
Which Jiang Li had spectacularly failed to provide, ensuring his continued exile and irrelevance. Her reports must have been consistently bleak.
"Very well," I said coolly, deciding to end the interrogation there for now. Pushing her further might yield little and only increase her suspicion or fear. On the other hand, her earlier gratitude felt real, potent, perhaps even forging the beginnings of a genuine bond where only fear and duty existed before. Perhaps this was my chance to further secure her cooperation?
"Steward Lin," I began again, my voice softer now, shifting from the magnanimous master to someone seeking a confidante, leaning forward slightly as she straightened slightly from her bow, though her head remained lowered. "Before we move on to the day's business… I must ask a personal favor."
I waited for her nod of assent, her eyes wide with earnest, unquestioning gratitude visible even with her lowered gaze. She would likely promise anything right now.
"My true strength..." I gestured vaguely towards myself, referring to my recovery and implied Stage 4 strength, "...and this talk of a 'special constitution' the Alchemist seemed so intrigued by... these are sensitive matters, you understand."
I lowered my voice further, creating an air of shared confidence, of shared danger.
"Given that someone clearly wishes me harm – enough to use a poison like Silent Meridian Frost – broadcasting such news prematurely could be... unwise. Dangerous, even."
I let the implication hang, watching her shoulders tense slightly with understanding. "For my safety," I emphasized, "and perhaps yours as well, should unwanted attention fall upon this household, I would prefer if your next report to my mother... focused solely on my recovery from a 'minor illness' – for that is indeed what it was from my perspective. Let us delay mentioning any... unexpected advancements or unique traits until we have a clearer picture of who targeted me. Can I trust in your… discretion in this? As a personal favor to me?"
Lin Ruolan's expression shifted instantly to sharp comprehension. She glanced nervously towards the closed door, as if fearing eavesdroppers even here, then met my gaze directly for the first time since re-entering the room, her eyes filled with a newfound resolve that overlay her lingering fear.
"Master is wise," she whispered, her voice low and firm. "Discretion is paramount when enemies may be watching. This servant understands completely." She bowed her head again, decisively this time. "My report to the Matron will mention only your recovery from a brief, non-specific ailment that required Alchemist Chen's consultation. Nothing more, until Master permits it or the culprit is found. You have my word... Master."
"That will be all for now, Steward Lin. Attend to your duties. Ensure my privacy is not disturbed further unless explicitly summoned."
She bowed again, a wave of palpable relief washing over her features. She retreated quickly, her movements precise and efficient now that the immediate crisis had passed, closing the door softly behind her, leaving me once more to the silence and my thoughts.
Alone again, I considered her words. Just who was the culprit of my would-be poisoning?
Was it Elder Miao's nephew? Possible, but, frankly, that family felt much too… small-scale for fielding such a potent Qi poison.
My dear, competitive younger brother, Jiang Feng? Even more unlikely – for, while he would have had the means, he lacked motive to dispose of his "trash" sibling.
Then there was the fiancée, the Su family's young miss, Su Lian. Jiang Li's memories were crystal clear on her undisguised contempt for this arranged marriage and for him personally, viewing him as an unworthy stain on her prestigious lineage. She certainly had the motive to want out of the engagement, perhaps hoping his death would annul the contract or force the Jiang family to offer his more talented brother instead… But the means? Poison? Murder? Did her dislike truly run that deep, or was her pride simply wounded by being shackled to a known failure? It seemed a more likely candidate than my brother, perhaps – and, in a world with cultivators and strange poisons, ruling out a desperate move from a proud, cornered noblewoman felt foolish.
Or, perhaps it was someone else entirely, an unknown enemy of the Jiang family leveraging Jiang Li's exile and vulnerability, or someone wronged by his past actions?
Then, I needed to consider my mother's instructions to my steward to… report any improvement. My sudden jump in cultivation, when it became known to her, would certainly qualify. I had no intention to delay that particular report indefinitely – but, why settle for a chicken egg when you can eat a whole Cow? My System could seemingly turn people's beliefs to manifest insane gains – in that case, wouldn't I benefit even more if I advanced a few more stages before my illustrious Foundation Establishment family members found out? The more outrageous they believed my newly-discovered cultivation talent to be, the crazier the gains I would ultimately make.
…
Now then… I needed to see my domain, assess my tangible assets, understand the reality of my situation here… and consider what I had to work with. Pushing myself up from the desk, feeling the solid, reliable strength of Stage Four Qi humming within me, I decided a tour of this gilded cage was long overdue. I left my room, stepping out into a covered, ornately carved wooden corridor that overlooked a central courtyard bathed in the gentle afternoon sun.
The residence wasn't merely a single large house, as I'd initially assumed, but a modest compound, sprawling slightly wider than it was deep. Built in the local architectural style, featuring dark timber beams contrasting sharply with white-washed walls and elegantly curved, grey-tiled roofs, it exuded an air of quiet wealth. It was clearly expensive, well-constructed with quality materials, but lacked the sheer grandeur, the imposing scale, and the palpable energy of the main Jiang family estate vividly imprinted in Jiang Li's memories.
Potted plants lined the corridor, some bearing exotic, faintly glowing flowers that emitted a subtle fragrance, all meticulously tended – Ruolan-arranged work, no doubt. The main courtyard below featured a small, artfully arranged rock garden, a weeping willow tree, and a clear pond where fat, colorful carp – golden, white, and mottled orange – swam lazily beneath broad lily pads, their scales flashing in the sunlight. It was undeniably peaceful, aesthetically pleasing in a restrained way, yet it felt… isolated.
Confined.
A comfortable, well-appointed prison designed to keep its inmate placated but irrelevant.
A few servants moved through the corridors or worked silently in the garden below. Most appeared to be mortals, their movements lacking the subtle grace and energy signature of cultivators. A couple might have been nascent Qi Gatherers, barely Stage 1, their energy levels pitifully weak even compared to my own starting point. They reacted to my unexpected presence with startled haste, averting their eyes immediately and executing deep, almost fearful bows, their deference tinged with a nervous curiosity that was palpable. Did any of them sense the distinct change in my Qi signature? Or was it simply the ingrained fear and awe directed towards any member of the Jiang family, even the infamous 'trash' young master?
Impossible to tell for sure. Their reactions served as a stark, visceral reminder of the rigid social strata here – even as a disgraced, exiled failure, I occupied a rung on the ladder utterly beyond their reach.
As I was wandering through a quieter side corridor, admiring a surprisingly intricate lattice screen carved from dark wood, letting my senses adjust to the ambient Qi of the compound, the System chimed unexpectedly, startlingly, in my mind again. Not a visual overlay this time, but a clear, distinct mental notification.
[HIGH QUALITY Remote Qualified Belief Detected!]
Remote? Huh?
The word itself sent a jolt through me.
[Belief Source: Alchemist Chen (Indirect)]
Old Chen talked? Already? He literally just left! Who would he even talk to? My mind raced, discarding possibilities.
[Belief Meter: +1500]
Wait, wait, wait. Hold up… Fifteen HUNDRED?!
The number staggered me. That was ten times the points I got from Chen directly!
[Attribute Updated: Special Constitution: Unknown (Detected - 17% Manifestation)]
I felt it instantly – a subtle but undeniable shift deep within me. Not a surge of power like the cultivation jump, but a deepening of that innate resilience, a further strengthening of my meridians. A certain… qualitative difference I couldn't quite explain. The comfortable warmth intensified slightly, feeling even more natural, more integrated. The 8% jumped to 17%. My mind struggled to process the implications.
Belief manifestation worked at a distance! That was incredible news, an absolute game-changer!
But +1500 points… and a further 9% jump to the constitution attribute? That meant Alchemist Chen hadn't just mentioned my survival casually; he must have spoken, perhaps via a long-distance communication method, to someone far more powerful than him, someone whose belief carried immense weight. More importantly, that person, whoever they were, believed the outlandish story of the hidden genius with the rare constitution who used Silent Meridian Frost for casual meridian tempering.
Who could it be?
The City Lord of this backwater place? Unlikely to carry that much weight – and I didn't hear about the City Lord and Old Chen being particularly close.
An expert from a major sect Chen might have connections with? Jiang Li's memories recalled local gossip – Alchemist Chen had apparently been an outer disciple at the Azure Cloud Sect decades ago, before being quietly dismissed for failing to reach Foundation Establishment within the required timeframe. A failure, yes -- but perhaps he maintained contact with former colleagues? Informing his old sect of a young master in exile suddenly displaying hidden strength and a rare constitution... could he be angling for a finder's fee, a reward for identifying a potential recruit truly worthy of the sect's attention, hoping to regain some lost face or connection? It was certainly plausible, a desperate move for an old man stuck in a backwater town.
Things were getting… complicated. Exhilarating, because the manifestation strengthened me further, solidifying my bluff without me lifting a finger. Terrifying, because it meant high-level attention was now potentially focused squarely on me, this supposed hidden talent languishing in exile – and, whoever Old Chen spoke to, their belief was… potent, to say the least. I needed to be much, much more careful. The stakes were rising exponentially faster than I could easily control.
Shaking off the shock and the swirling implications, I forced myself to continue the tour, needing to ground myself in tangible reality. Eventually, I located the storage rooms allocated to this residence branch, tucked away in a less-frequented corner of the compound. Lin Ruolan, perhaps anticipating my needs after our earlier conversation or simply following standard procedure after the Alchemist's visit, had ensured they were unlocked.
Inside, the air was cool and slightly musty. It was… adequate, but undeniably far from lavish. Several large camphor wood chests lined one wall, filled with fine silk robes in various styles – many appearing barely worn, testament to the original Jiang Li's profligate nature and fleeting tastes. Some basic, sturdy furniture – chairs, a small table, screens – were covered in dust sheets, likely deemed unworthy of display in the main rooms.
A weapon rack against the far wall held a few standard-issue swords and practice spears, none appearing to be alchemically enhanced, nor crafted from particularly superior materials – Jiang Li had possessed zero interest in martial practice beyond the absolute minimum required by family tradition.
And finally, nestled in a shadowed corner, sat a small, sturdy lockbox bound with iron. I knelt, my Stage Four strength making the movement easy, and lifted the surprisingly heavy box, placing it on the floor before me. Jiang Li's memories supplied the simple unlocking mechanism. Inside lay the tangible remnants of my host body's disgraced allowance, the physical measure of his family's disregard. A thick cloth pouch, satisfyingly heavy, contained silver coins – counting at a glance revealed maybe three hundred taels' worth, gleaming dully in the dim light. Beside it, another smaller, finer pouch held perhaps two or three dozen gold coins, their luster brighter, warmer, more precious.
To Leo Maxwell, the struggling actor who counted pennies for ramen, this would have represented an unimaginable fortune, enough to live without financial worry for years, maybe even fund a small independent theatre production. But Jiang Li's memories, now seamlessly integrated with my own understanding, provided the stark, brutal context of this new world's economy.
Here, ordinary folk in the surrounding countryside might live and die dealing only in base copper coins, perhaps seeing a handful of silver for a major life transaction like buying essential livestock or acquiring the deed to a tiny village house – two hundred coppers were painstakingly saved to make a single silver coin.
Urban denizens earned significantly more by comparison. A common laborer in this very city, hauling goods or digging ditches, might earn one silver coin for a full day of back-breaking toil -- perhaps two to five if they possessed a valuable, recognized skill like being an expert in carpentry or masonry.
Twenty silver coins made a single tael of silver. And a hundred of those silver taels – two thousand silver coins, representing years of hard-earned wages for a skilled craftsman – equaled one solitary gold coin. The overwhelming majority of mortals in this world would never hold, let alone spend, a single piece of gold in their entire lifespan.
Yet here I was, Jiang Li, the family failure, with dozens of gold coins just lying casually in a box, the begrudging stipend deemed sufficient for an exiled son. The sheer, staggering, veritably feudal wealth disparity created and maintained by these powerful cultivator dynasties was breathtaking and nauseating in equal measure.
But then my eyes fell on the other contents of the lockbox, pushing aside the mundane metals. Around fifty low-grade spirit stones lay scattered like dull, flawed quartz pebbles, cool to the touch, humming with a faint, almost imperceptible internal energy that only my newly enhanced cultivator senses could clearly detect.
Jiang Li's memories instantly supplied the crushing exchange rate, the true measure of wealth in this world. It took twenty gold coins to equal one tael of gold… And a hundred taels of gold – two thousand gold coins, an unimaginable fortune for most mortals – was needed to equate, roughly, to a single low-grade spirit stone like these fifty pebbles. These stones, therefore, represented the equivalent of one hundred thousandgold coins in mundane currency.
And yet, in the vast economy of the cultivator world, they barely even qualified for pocket change. Spirit stones were the real currency of this world, their stored Qi – spiritual energy – being vital for activating powerful artifacts, powering complex defensive or transportation formations, fueling the demanding processes of alchemy and refinement, and, crucially, for direct absorption by cultivators to speed up their own arduous cultivation progress.
Mortals couldn't utilize this energy; to them, the stones were just pretty, unusually heavy rocks. On the other hand, gold, silver, copper – these were just shiny metals to serious cultivators, useful only for dealing with the mundane world, utterly insignificant compared to reservoirs of tangible power. While low-grade stones like mine could still – sometimes -- be bought with vast amounts of gold, especially in backwater places like this if one found a cultivator desperate or foolish enough to part with them… but mid-grade stones and higher? No amount of mundane wealth could ever purchase them directly; their intrinsic value, their utility in achieving higher realms of power, their usefulness in the esoteric arts -- was simply too great. No sane high-level cultivator would even think of trading true power for useless shiny metals.
So, this lockbox told the complete, depressing story of Jiang Li's status. By mortal standards, I was obscenely, disgustingly rich. By the standards of cultivators, the world I now truly inhabited thanks to the System, I was utterly, pitifully poor. This meager stash of fifty low-grade spirit stones wouldn't even cover the cost of a single decent Qi-enhancing pill, the cost of a slightly better cultivation manual, or a properly crafted spiritual sword, let alone be able to bribe anyone important or fund the resources needed for serious, accelerated training beyond the Qi Gathering realm. It truly was the allowance of a disgraced son, carefully calculated to sustain life but offer no realistic path to advancement or regaining favor. Suddenly, the +1500 Belief Points I'd gained while wandering the compound felt infinitely more valuable, more real, more potent with possibility than all the gold and spirit stones in this box combined.
Money was irrelevant, I realized. Belief was my real currency now. My path forward wouldn't be paved with spirit stones, but with carefully crafted perceptions.
Although… I just had an interesting idea that merited being tested.
Returning to the main courtyard, my mind buzzing with the implications of the remote belief, the stark reality of my financial situation, and the burning need to test manifestation directly again, I spotted a young servant boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen, diligently sweeping fallen leaves near the carp pond. He looked timid, dressed in simple, coarse-spun clothes, clearly mortal, his movements jerky and nervous as I deliberately altered my path to approach him.
Perfect. Let's test what a mere mortal's belief was worth.
"You there," I called out, pitching my voice to be calm but authoritative, subtly projecting the confidence of my Stage Four cultivation, the 'Hidden Strength' persona bleeding into my demeanor.
The boy jumped as if struck by lightning, dropping his rough twig broom with a clatter on the stone paving. He spun around and executed a deep, trembling bow, eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of his worn sandals.
"Y-Young Master?" he stammered, his voice thin with fear.
"What is your name, boy?" I asked, keeping my tone level, injecting a note of casual interest that might put him slightly more at ease.
He flinched slightly at the direct question but answered quickly, still staring at the ground. "X-Xiao Liu, Young Master."
"Xiao Liu," I repeated, nodding slowly. I produced an empty, simple cloth pouch from my sleeve – one I'd pocketed from the storage room moments before, ensuring it was visibly empty as I drew it out. Holding it closed now, letting it dangle casually from my fingers, I adopted a benevolent, slightly amused expression, the kind a master might show when feeling magnanimous towards a lesser being.
"Xiao Liu, I believe I have a few gold coins remaining in this pouch from my… activities last night." The lie, the foundation of the belief I needed to build, came easily now, smoothly, the actor relishing the setup. "Feeling somewhat recovered today, I find myself in a generous mood. Take a guess – how many coins are inside this pouch? Guess close," I leaned in slightly, making it conspiratorial, drawing him into the small fiction, "and I shall reward you with one."
The poor boy's eyes widened, darting nervously from the simple pouch to my face and back again. A mixture of ingrained fear and sudden, avaricious hope warred visibly in his expression. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing.
"G-gold coins, Young Master?" he whispered, the words filled with awe. Gold was likely something he'd only heard about in stories.
"Indeed," I confirmed with a small, confident smile, letting the pouch swing slightly as if weighted. Internally, I tried focusing my Intent through the System, visualizing the outcome clearly: "Manifest [Servant's Belief] of gold coins in this pouch." I concentrated on the boy, projecting an aura of effortless wealth and confidence, letting the pouch seem slightly heavy in my hand through sheer force of suggestion.
Just believe it, kid. It's only simple coins. There's nothing fantastical about your wealthy Young Master having some.
He hesitated, biting his lower lip, eyes darting around as if calculating odds or fearing a trick. Then, screwing up his courage, he stammered, "M-maybe… three, Young Master? Three gold coins?" It was a small number, perhaps all his mind could reasonably conceive of in one place.
I nodded slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact, letting the anticipation build. "Three, you say?" My voice was thoughtful. Then I smiled warmly, and confidently asserted: "You're right!"
Come on, come on! Work! This has to work!
The System confirmed my hoped-for success coolly in my mind:
[Qualified Belief Detected: Servant Xiao Liu (Mortal). BQT Level 1 Met!]
[Intent Match: Manifest 3 Gold Coins]
[Minimum Threshold Met! Manifestation Initiated!]
[Belief Meter: +2 (Low Quality Belief Acquired)]
Staying in character like the professional I was, and acting with a deliberate, theatrical flourish, I loosened the drawstring and upended the pouch into my waiting palm.
Clink, clink, clink.
The sound was crisp, clear, undeniable in the quiet courtyard. Three gleaming gold coins, catching the afternoon sunlight, landed solidly in my hand.
Not imagined, not illusory.
Real, solid, heavy gold, radiating the faint metallic scent of wealth.
The servant boy gasped audibly, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. Raw awe and utter disbelief warred on his young face, quickly replaced by overwhelming joy.
I casually tossed one of the newly manifested gold coins – warm from my hand, undeniably real – to the stunned servant boy. "Your guess was precise, little Liu. Well done."
He fumbled the catch, his eyes still wide with shock, then clutched the precious coin as if it were his entire world, dropping into a series of rapid, deep bows, stammering incoherent thanks.
I looked at the remaining two gold coins gleaming in my palm, then closed my fist around their satisfying weight. Oh my God, it actually worked!
There was minimal point gain this time, but I now had absolute, tangible confirmation that objects could also be created by the system – and even a mortal's belief was apparently sufficient to make something as mundane as gold. With my system, belief literally created reality, at least on this small scale. The possibilities unfurled in my mind like a script filled with potential plot twists… tools, resources, alchemy ingredients… maybe even cultivation manuals – could all of these be manifested at will if I could bluff the right, knowledgeable believers…
Oh, this system of mine held possibilities – and ones I would exploit fully from the very start, for I knew not what I was up against, and had no intention of holding myself back.
Xiao Liu," I said calmly, my voice stopping him before he could decide to do something silly, like fleeing with his prize.
He froze instantly, clutching the coin tighter, terror returning to his eyes. "Y-yes, Young Master?"
"That gold coin... useful, isn't it?" I asked conversationally, letting a small smile play on my lips. He nodded frantically, eyes wide. "How would you like a chance to earn even more of them?"
Hope warred with fear on his young face. He swallowed hard and managed another, more vigorous nod. "Y-yes, Young Master! This Xiao Liu would be honored!"
"Very well," I said, my tone becoming brisk, businesslike. "Go now. Gather all the servants of this residence – every cook, cleaner, gardener, guard, everyone currently within these walls – in this main courtyard. Have them assemble here neatly in half an hour's time. I have an announcement to make." I paused, letting the instruction sink in.
"Do this quickly and efficiently, understand everyone is required, and perhaps," I added, letting the promise hang tantalizingly, "there will be further rewards in it for you."
Understanding, mixed with determination and a renewed spark of hope, replaced the fear in Xiao Liu's eyes. He bowed deeply again, clutching his single gold coin.
"Yes, Young Master! Right away, Young Master! This servant will gather everyone!" With newfound purpose, he turned and hurried off, rushing to fulfill his important task.
The System was real, my power was growing, belief was amplifying my very existence even now, and I could literally create wealth from thin air… But, I realized that, what I needed the most was more believers. A wider audience to truly leverage this insane System. My earlier plan to hit the local rumor mills suddenly felt… insufficient. Why rely on secondhand gossip when I could create belief directly, here and now? This assembly… this was an opportunity. A chance to establish a new narrative. Right here within my own household.
Turning back towards the main hall, a new resolve solidifying within me, a refined plan clicking into place, I called out, my voice clear and steady, carrying the newfound authority and resonance of Qi Gathering Stage Four. "Lin Ruolan!"
A few moments later, she appeared at the edge of the courtyard, bowing respectfully, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes watchful, perhaps wondering what whim her unpredictable young master had now. "Yes… Master?"
"Ensure all servants are assembled in the main courtyard half an hour from now," I instructed, my tone shifting again, now filled with a manic, almost theatrical energy that made her blink in surprise.
"I have an announcement – nay, a proclamation of great import!" I paused, letting a wide, perhaps slightly unsettling grin spread across Jiang Li's face. "And fetch me my most... ostentatious robes. The ones with the gold thread embroidery depicting the Nine Celestial Dragons? And perhaps those extra gaudy jewel-encrusted rings the Su family sent last year – the ones I deemed too vulgar. Tonight," I declared, spreading my hands wide, "I wish to make a statement!"
My mind buzzed with the makings of a grand, new plan.
…
Fuck subtlety.
Fuck targeting "high-level" believers individually.
What if, instead, I aimed for mass belief, even in a low-quality? The remote belief gains I received proved the System responded to external validation.
My servants... while they weren't treated poorly, per say, they would certainly be easily impressed by displays of wealth and power. What if… I played the part of the ridiculously magnanimous, perhaps slightly mad, young master returned from the brink?
I would promise them riches! A huge, beautiful raise – more wealth than they had ever seen before! I would proclaim loudly that putting up with the 'old' Jiang Li deserved hazard pay, and that from this day forward, no servant of the Jiang family under my roof would ever know poverty! Their face would be my face! Their prestige -- my prestige! Hell, by the time I was through, even my servants would have servants!
It would be pure theatre. Loud. Flashy. Bordering on the insane.
But… it would be perfect for generating widespread, fervent belief among the lower classes. And, with a few props… that belief would even become self-reinforcing. Perpetuating ever forward through the city, like ripples in a pond.
Before the half-hour was up, I located several large, empty wooden chests in another storage area – my props for the performance to come. They were plain but quite sturdy. I had them moved strategically around the main courtyard, arranging them to look like recently arrived shipments or perhaps forgotten family treasures waiting to be opened.
Then, with Lin Ruolan assistance (her expression a carefully maintained mask of bewildered disapproval and perhaps concern for my sanity), I donned the attire I requested. It was atrocious by Leo Maxwell's standards – blindingly bright crimson silk interwoven with thick, glittering gold threads depicting nine celestial dragons writhing in auspicious clouds, the craftsmanship exquisite but the overall effect utterly overwhelming. Heavy jade pendants carved into fierce mythical beasts hung around my neck, and several large bracelets and rings set with crudely cut but dazzlingly large gemstones – emeralds, rubies, sapphires – adorned my wrists and fingers. Su family's gifts that the original Jiang Li, despite his demeanor and reputation, had apparently found too vulgar even for his tastes.
It felt like wearing a parody of wealth, a costume for a tyrant in a bad opera.
But, it was perfect for the role I was about to play.
Thus attired, feeling like a garish beacon of questionable taste and immense fortune, I stood near the entrance to the main hall, surveying the courtyard. The empty chests sat expectantly on the stone paving. Servants were gathering rapidly now, summoned by a frantic but clearly motivated Xiao Liu, arranging themselves in neat, nervous rows according to their rank and duties, their faces a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and ingrained deference. Cooks in stained aprons stood beside gardeners still brushing dirt from their hands; maids in simple grey tunics shifted nervously near guards clad in worn leather armor.
The entire small ecosystem of my exile, assembled and waiting. Lin Ruolan stood discreetly to one side near the front, her expression unreadable but attentive, likely wondering what madness her young master was planning now. The afternoon sun glinted off the gold threads in my ridiculous robes, casting long shadows across the paving stones.
This was it.
My first real performance for a decently-sized audience in this world, albeit a captive one. My first attempt to consciously shape belief on a massive scale, to lay the foundation for future manifestations through sheer, overwhelming spectacle. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of dust, possibility, and the undeniable thrill of the unknown performance ahead. The actor, Leo Maxwell, settled deep within the vessel of Jiang Li, drawing on decades of training, embracing the flamboyant, perhaps unhinged, persona required for this scene. Stage fright still coiled low in my gut, amplified now by the stakes involved. But overriding the fear, stronger now, was a burgeoning sense of purpose, the thrum of tangible, belief-fueled power circulating confidently within me, a gambler's thrill at the sheer audacity of this play, and the potent, reality-bending knowledge of my System.
Showtime.