Dustwood Village had always been quiet.
But tonight, it breathed fear.
The firelight flickered against the cracked clay walls of the Lin family home. Lin Chen sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, the faint outline of a formation circle chalked around him. Incense burned gently nearby, its scent mixing with the earthy aroma of dirt and old wood.
In the shadows behind him, Lin Dazhong watched silently. His calloused hands gripped his knees. There was pride in his gaze—but also something else. Worry.
"Chen'er," he said softly. "It's late. You've been at it since dawn."
Lin Chen didn't open his eyes. "There's not enough time."
"Time for what?"
He exhaled slowly, steadying the whirl of qi within his dantian. "To get stronger before they come again."
There was no need to say who they were.
The Cultivation Circle
Lin Chen's cultivation had progressed faster than expected. Most villagers with average meridians needed years to reach even the third layer of the Dust Vein Realm. But Lin Chen was reincarnated. He had already walked one lifetime's path.
He knew shortcuts. Tricks. Secrets hidden in the folds of qi theory and meridian alignment.
The formation he sat within wasn't complex, but it amplified ambient qi in the area. Carved from crushed spirit ore his mother had bartered from a wandering trader, it was enough to boost the draw of Dust Essence by nearly 12%.
To others, insignificant.
To Lin Chen, a miracle.
As he breathed deeply, the motes of dust in the air began to shimmer faintly—spiraling slowly toward him. His body was weak, still just a boy of eight, but the Heavenly Dust Vein accepted every grain of essence like a bottomless desert.
Fourth layer.
He smiled faintly.
The Spark of Vengeance
Three days later, Lin Chen returned from chopping wood to find a bruise on his mother's cheek.
She smiled and tried to brush it off. "It was just a push, nothing serious."
"Who?" Lin Chen's voice was flat.
"They came to collect 'taxes' again," she said. "Outer disciples from Qinghe Pavilion. Your father argued."
Lin Chen's breath slowed.
He could see the shame on his father's face that night, as he sat silent beside the fire.
And Lin Chen realized something.
His cultivation alone would never be enough.
Power meant nothing in silence. Power without structure was a leaf in the wind.
He needed more.
To the Hidden Archives
It was dusk when he slipped away.
The outer walls of Qinghe Pavilion weren't heavily guarded. After all, who would be foolish enough to sneak into a sect?
But Lin Chen knew the mountains. He had spent years gathering wood along the ridges and cliffs.
He scaled the side path near Broken Fang Ridge and used the mist to mask his descent. His goal was not to fight.
His goal was knowledge.
Hidden within the outer disciple library, in the second floor sealed by a flimsy array, lay the records most students ignored—the foundational manuals, spiritual geography charts, and old cultivation tests.
It was there he found what he needed:
A worn scroll titled:
"Record of Forgotten Paths: The Nine Vein Convergence and Unorthodox Foundation Rites."
The text within was dense, ink faded, but Lin Chen drank in the words with hunger.
It spoke of:
Constructing an independent cultivation system without reliance on sect guidance
Harmonizing non-elemental qi through martial movement
Drawing qi from decay, ash, and desolation—perfectly suited to the Heavenly Dust Vein
He copied the scroll by hand until his fingers cramped, then slipped back into the dark.
First Blood
Lin Chen didn't want to kill anyone.
But the world had other plans.
It happened a week later. His father had returned from town bloodied, dragging himself up the path with a broken arm.
"They… they wanted more coin than I had," he gasped.
Lin Chen stood frozen for a moment.
Then something cracked inside him.
The next morning, he left before sunrise.
He waited along the forest path near Broken Fang Ridge, where outer disciples often traveled to hunt spirit beasts. His target was not the strongest—but the weakest of the thugs who had mocked him.
Qian Mu, a lazy disciple in the Fifth Layer of the Dust Vein Realm.
Lin Chen had practiced the Ash Piercing Thrust from the stolen scroll over forty times in the past week.
When Qian Mu appeared—laughing with another disciple—Lin Chen stepped into the path, calm as still water.
"You again?" Qian Mu laughed. "Back for another les—?"
The ash-strike hit him before the words were done.
A silent, needle-thin burst of compressed qi pierced his throat. The light in his eyes dimmed before he hit the ground.
Lin Chen vanished into the woods before the other disciple could react.
His first kill.
He vomited afterward.
But his hands didn't tremble.
The Girl with the Storm Vein
That night, someone knocked on their door.
Not with anger.
With grace.
When Lin Chen opened it, he saw a girl—perhaps a year older than him—standing beneath the stars. She had raven-black hair, long and tied in a high tail, and her robes shimmered silver-blue under the moonlight.
Her skin was pale like polished jade, and her eyes… fierce.
She was beautiful, but not delicate.
She was fire and wind.
"You're Lin Chen," she said, voice like flowing water. "You killed Qian Mu."
His mother stepped forward defensively. "Who are—?"
The girl bowed lightly. "I'm Zhao Yanyue, core disciple of Red Crest Peak."
Lin Chen didn't respond.
"I'm not here for trouble," she added. "I'm here because Elder Xu sent me."
She stepped inside without asking.
The Invitation
They sat around the table, small bowls of soup between them. Zhao Yanyue sipped quietly, studying Lin Chen.
"You've drawn attention," she said at last. "Some bad. Some worse."
"I didn't kill him to be noticed."
"I know," she said. "But it doesn't change the fact that now you are noticed."
She placed a slip of jade on the table. "This is an invitation. Elder Xu wants you to visit Red Crest Peak. You don't need to join. He just wants to talk."
Lin Chen looked at his father.
"I'll go."
Red Crest Peak
The journey to Red Crest Peak took three days by foot, but Zhao Yanyue summoned a small spirit crane. Lin Chen had never ridden a flying beast before.
From the sky, the world looked smaller—fields like patches on a robe, rivers like strands of hair.
Red Crest Peak was not like Qinghe Pavilion. It was smaller, older, and less arrogant.
Its buildings were simple. Its disciples focused. And the air smelled of firewood and burning incense.
Elder Xu met Lin Chen at the gate.
"Good," he said, nodding. "You came."
The Interview
They walked through a small garden filled with red-leaf trees. Elder Xu's robes trailed behind him like a banner of war.
"You possess the Heavenly Dust Vein," he said. "Rare. Despised. Feared."
Lin Chen said nothing.
"It devours. It decays. But it also endures. Where others burn bright and die fast, the Dust Vein grinds forward eternally."
They stopped before a broken statue—an old cultivator with one arm missing.
"That was my master," Elder Xu said. "He had the Ashfire Vein. Your Dust Vein is its cousin."
He turned.
"You are walking a path that leads to enemies far beyond Qinghe Pavilion. I cannot protect you. But I can prepare you."
Lin Chen met his eyes.
"Then prepare me."
A New Teacher
From that day on, Lin Chen trained at Red Crest Peak by day and returned home by crane at night.
He trained with Zhao Yanyue, who was quick, fierce, and relentless. She wielded wind qi like a dancer wields silk—beautiful, but deadly.
"You're too slow," she scolded as Lin Chen stumbled during sparring. "Your strikes hesitate."
"I'm not trying to kill you," he grunted.
"Then imagine I'm someone you need to."
By the end of the month, he could match her in footwork.
By the second, he was landing blows.
Elder Xu gave him books. Scrolls. Diagrams. Some were ancient, some forbidden.
"Don't follow," he said. "Digest. Build your own scripture."
Whispers in the Dark
But as Lin Chen grew, so did the storm around him.
Qinghe Pavilion was not blind.
When they learned Qian Mu's killer was being sheltered by Red Crest Peak, tensions escalated.
An official challenge was issued.
A duel—Lin Chen versus Jin Yao, the Third Elder's disciple.
The fight would be public.
And the Pavilion was betting Lin Chen would be crushed.
Chapter 5 Ends.