The Inner Library squatted on the seventh terrace like a toad made of black stone and bad decisions. I'd run for twenty minutes up stairs slick with mountain dew, the bamboo slip burning against my ribs, while the System kept dropping helpful observations in my skull.
[Distance to target: 0.3 li. Cardiovascular efficiency: suboptimal. Suggestion: Accept breathing technique to improve]
"Shut. Up." Each word came out between gasps. My lungs felt like someone had stuffed them with wet wool.
The library guards didn't even look at me. They were inner disciples, silver trim on their robes catching moonlight like knife edges. One was practicing sword forms that made the air whistle. The other sat on the steps, reading by the light of a formation that floated above his palm like a tame star.
I stopped at the boundary stone, catching my breath. The reading one glanced up. His eyes skimmed over my patched coat, the dirt under my nails, the careful way I held myself that screamed 'servant.' His attention slid off like water.
"Delivery," I managed. "From Steward Li."
He held out a hand without looking. I placed the bamboo carefully in his palm, already stepping back, already turning to go. Quick. Clean. Invisible.
"Wait." The word pinned me like a needle through cloth. "This needs a return stamp."
Of course it did. Nothing was ever simple. The guard stood with the lazy grace of someone who'd never scrubbed floors, gesturing me to follow. The sword-practicing one didn't pause in his forms. Steel sang through air in patterns that probably had names I'd never learn.
Inside, the library was a throat of shadows and lamp oil. Shelves rose like cliff faces, heavy with scrolls and bound books that smelled of age and secrets. My shoes whispered apologies to the polished floor. Everything here cost more than my life, and the building knew it.
The guard led me past reading alcoves where inner disciples hunched over texts, their faces painted gold by candlelight. One girl about my age traced characters in the air, and they hung there, glowing faintly before dissolving. Another boy had three books floating around his head in a slow orbit while he took notes.
[Observation: Multiple respect sources detected. Potential targets for...]
I thought "no" so hard that the System actually stopped mid-sentence.
We reached a desk where an elderly woman sat surrounded by ledgers. She had the kind of face that had forgotten how to smile sometime during the last dynasty. The guard handed her the bamboo. She read it, stamped it with a seal that flared brief red, and handed it back without a word.
"Done," the guard said. "Out."
I took the stamped slip and turned. Three steps. Five. Almost to the door..."You there. Outer sect."
The voice came from the left alcove. Male, young, with the particular tone of someone used to being answered immediately. I kept walking.
"I'm talking to you. The one who smells like kitchen grease."
I stopped. Not because I wanted to, but because ignoring an inner disciple was the kind of mistake that ended with broken fingers. I turned halfway, keeping my eyes on the fascinating floor.
"Yes, Senior Brother?"
He stood from his reading table, and I caught the edge of expensive robes, the kind dyed with actual indigo instead of whatever blue-adjacent plant they used for outer sect uniforms. "Fetch me the Seventeen Stars Manual from the third floor. East wall, second shelf from the top."
The guard who'd let me in had already vanished. The old woman at the desk was suddenly very interested in her ledgers. I was alone with an inner disciple who thought I was furniture.
"I apologize, Senior Brother," I said to the floor. "I'm not authorized to..."
"Did I ask about your authorization?" His voice sharpened. "I gave you an order."
[Mission generated: Retrieve the manual. Reward: Respect +3, Access to...]
No. No, no, no.
"The third floor is restricted," I said carefully. "Perhaps if Senior Brother could ask the librarian..."
He moved. Fast. One moment he was by the table, the next his hand was fisted in my collar, yanking me up so my feet barely touched the ground. This close, I could see his face, handsome in that cultivator way, like someone had carved irritation out of jade.
"Do you know who I am?" he hissed.
I did, actually. Chen Wei, third son of Elder Chen, known for his 'vigorous' training methods. The kind of vigorous that left outer disciples spitting blood.
"This humble one doesn't..."
He shook me. My teeth clicked. "I am your better in every way that matters. When I tell you to fetch something, you fetch. Unless you'd prefer I demonstrate the Seventeen Stars Manual's first form on your spine?"
[Warning: Hostility detected. Suggestion: Comply to avoid physical...]
"I'll go," I said quickly. "Third floor. East wall."
He released me with a shove. I stumbled but kept my feet. "Good dog. Run along."
I straightened my coat and walked to the stairs, each step measured. Don't run. Don't show fear. Don't show anything.
The second floor was quieter, darker. The third floor was worse, a heavy silence that pressed against my ears. Restricted sections had formations, everyone knew that. But I also knew something else: formations were maintained by people. People who got lazy. People who assumed no outer sect trash would dare.
The east wall loomed, shelves stretching up into shadow. Second from the top. I'd need to climb.
[Alert: Attempting unauthorized access. Respect penalty if caught: -10. Proceed?]
"Already here," I muttered, and started climbing.
The shelves were solid, meant to last centuries. My fingers found holds between scrolls, my feet careful not to disturb anything. Halfway up, my coat caught on something. I heard fabric tear and bit down on a curse.
There—a manual bound in deep blue, stars picked out in silver thread on the spine. I reached, fingers barely brushing...
"What are you doing?"
I nearly fell. Managed to catch myself, look down. A different inner disciple stood below, this one female, older, with eyes like winter mornings.
"Senior Sister," I said, still hanging from the shelf like the world's saddest spider. "Senior Brother Chen Wei requested..."
"Chen Wei has no authority here." Her voice could have frozen fire. "Come down."
I climbed down, each movement careful. When I reached the floor, she was studying me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You're the latrine cleaner," she said. Not a question.
"Yes, Senior Sister."
"And Chen Wei sent you to steal from the restricted section."
"He said fetch," I corrected, then immediately wanted to swallow my tongue.
Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. "Show me your hands."
I held them out. She examined the calluses, the grease still under my nails, the fresh scrapes from climbing.
"You have steady hands," she said finally. "Wasted on latrines."
[Respect +2 from Senior Sister Liu Mei]
[Note: Higher-tier source. Bonus applied.]
The words blazed across my vision. I blinked hard, trying to clear them.
"Thank you?" I managed.
She reached up, not climbing, just extending her arm in a way that somehow covered the distance, and plucked the manual from its shelf. "Chen Wei can fetch his own books. Tell him Liu Mei said so."
She handed me the manual. I stared at it, then at her.
"But..."
"Go," she said. "Before I decide you're too interesting to let leave."
I fled.
Chen Wei was still in his alcove, now with two other inner disciples lounging nearby like decorative snakes. He looked up when I approached, eyes already narrowing.
"Took you long enough..." He saw the manual in my hands and his expression shifted. "How did you..."
"Senior Sister Liu Mei said you can fetch your own books," I said, placing the manual carefully on his table. "This humble one was merely the messenger."
His face went through several colors. His friends made sounds that might have been laughs if they'd had more courage. Chen Wei's hand twitched toward his sword.
"You,"
"Will that be all, Senior Brother?" I kept my voice steady, empty, a servant's perfect nothing. "Steward Li expects his runner back."
Chen Wei's jaw worked like he was chewing glass. Finally: "Get out."
I bowed exactly as deep as required and no deeper. Turned. Walked.
[Mission complete: Survived library encounter]
[Respect earned: +5 total]
[Breathing Technique (Basic) unlocked]
[Daily mission progress: 5/10 respect from higher sources]
Outside, the night air tasted like freedom. I ran down the mountain paths, stamped bamboo slip clutched tight, letting gravity and habit carry me home. My coat flapped through its new tear. My hands shook with leftover adrenaline.
Five respect. Halfway to whatever the System wanted. Halfway to something I didn't ask for.
But also: three copper coins waiting. Food that wasn't scraps. Maybe a new coat before winter.
I'd think about the cost tomorrow. Tonight, I just ran.