Morning sunlight spills over the crowded street as the teenager takes his usual place, setting down his battered stool and worn box of paints.
His name is *Lin Zian*, and from dawn to dusk, this corner is his small world—a patch of cobblestone where he trades portraits for coins to feed his sister and buy her medicine.
Today feels ordinary until a polished carriage halts before him, its black wood trimmed with faint silver and silk curtains drawn shut.
After a brief pause, the curtain parts, revealing a young girl's calm, sharp-eyed face.
"Come up," she says.
Zian blinks, pointing at himself. "Me?"
"Yes, you," the girl replies, unamused.
He frowns. "Why?"
"My lady wishes her portrait painted."
Zian's surprise flashes into disbelief, then hope—the pay for a noble's portrait could change everything.
"Wait," he says, hurriedly packing his brushes and scrolls.
The carriage driver sets down a small ladder, and Zian climbs aboard, sitting opposite the girl who watches him in silence.
He tries to make small talk, to learn her name, her lady's name, their destination—but receives nothing but silence.
Through the carriage window, he glimpses the passing streets until the view changes—their path now leading under a tall white arch carved with blooming lotuses.
The words etched above it read White Lotus Pavilion—a name he knows belongs only to nobles, merchants, and sect scions of status.
The carriage slows, then stops.
The girl steps down and gestures. "Follow me."
Zian obeys, clutching his paint box as they cross a stone path beside a pond glimmering with pale lotus blooms.
There, beneath the soft shade of willow leaves, sits a lady in flowing noble robes, her stillness as composed as her reflection rippling among the half-bloomed white lotuses.
The girl beside him says, "Paint my lady."
Zian nods and begins to set up his tools, his fingers moving with quiet precision.
He studies the lady carefully, committing each detail to memory—the fall of her hair, the faint curl of her lips, the light that touches her skin like dawn upon porcelain.
Since he began practising the Crow Meditation Technique, his memory has sharpened beyond what it once was.
A week has passed, yet he still cannot complete the first step—he can visualise up to the eighth rune, but the ninth eludes him like mist slipping through his grasp.
Even so, the cultivation has changed him.
His memory deepened, his eyesight sharpened, and his brush control grew steady as flowing water.
Each stroke he paints now breathes with precision and life.
Before long, the lady's likeness blooms upon the canvas—so vivid it feels she might turn and breathe at any moment.
The girl, Meilin, stares at the finished work, her lips parting but no sound emerging.
The lady's calm eyes shimmer with quiet curiosity.
"Meilin," she says softly, "bring the painting."
Startled from her daze, Meilin straightens. "Yes, Lady."
With Zian's quiet assistance, the painting is lifted free from the stand.
Meilin carries it carefully to her lady, who gazes at the portrait with a faint, satisfied smile.
After a moment, the lady retrieves a small pouch and hands it to Meilin.
Meilin walks over and offers it to Zian. "You may leave."
Zian accepts the pouch but does not move, hesitation flickering across his face.
Then, summoning a quiet resolve, he says, "My Lady, could your carriage escort me back home?"
The lady's calm eyes lift to meet his, studying him briefly before she nods. "Meilin, tell Jin to escort Zian home."
Meilin bows. "Yes, Lady." She turns to him with a faint arch of her brow. "Are you not thanking the Lady?"
Zian startles, then quickly bows low. "Thank you, my Lady."
The lady nods in acknowledgement, her expression unreadable.
Following Meilin, Zian returns to the carriage.
She gives instructions to the driver, Jin, before stepping aside.
Zian climbs in, and the carriage begins to move.
Curiosity pricks him—he opens the pouch and nearly gasps.
Ten silver coins gleam within.
His eyes widen; never in his life has he seen such wealth.
"I have to hide it," he mutters softly.
Leaving one coin behind, he tucks the rest securely into his underwear.
Then he slides open the small partition toward the driver. "Brother Jin, could you take me to the Zhou pharmacist?"
Jin nods once. "Yes."
He drives Zian to the Zhou pharmacist, where Zian finally buys the long-awaited medicine for his sister.
Paying one silver coin, he receives one hundred and fifty bronze coins in return.
Before heading home, he stops by the market, purchasing rice, fresh meat, and the ingredients needed for a proper meal.
That night, for the first time in years, they ate meat together.
After dinner, Zian practices the visualisation technique, his mind sharpening as the image of the crow slowly stabilises.
The next morning, he rents a small house on a better street, closer to the spot where he paints.
They move in on that same day.
The following morning, he learns from an acquaintance that his previous house was destroyed in a clash between martial artists.
He exhales in quiet relief, grateful for his decision.
While waiting for customers, he's hired by a grieving family to paint the likeness of their deceased relative.
Later, he's summoned to the local guard station to sketch the face of a criminal, this time relying solely on verbal descriptions.
His name spreads, and wealthier patrons begin to seek him out.
Soon, he and his sister are able to eat meat, eggs, or fish every day.
Though her illness remains, her strength improves, and a faint rosy hue returns to her cheeks.
He quietly plans to send her to school at the start of the next year.
A week after the noble lady's commission—the painting that changed his fate—Zian finally visualises the ninth rune.
The moment the ninth rune takes shape in his mind, a strange power awakens within him.
His senses sharpen, and his inner world opens—he can see inside his own body.
From the memory etched in his mind, he recalls the name of this state: introspection.
His eyesight heightens, his control over every muscle deepens, and for the first time, he can feel the faint breath of spiritual energy drifting around him.
He tries to draw a wisp of it into his body.
The effort makes him sweat; a sharp pain lances through his head as if his veins are burning.
The wisp barely enters before darkness takes him, and he collapses unconscious.
When he wakes at dawn, his head throbs, his clothes damp with cold sweat.
He understands then—he cannot become a Qi Refiner.
He can draw spiritual energy, yes, but the process itself nearly kills him.
Without a spirit root, the path of cultivation is closed to him.
And worse, if anyone learns he can absorb spiritual energy despite lacking a root, he might be dissected like some strange beast.
Fear presses in, and he decides—Qi Refining is not his path.
For him, only the road of the martial artist remains.
The reason he even considers becoming a Qi Refiner or martial artist is simple—the Crow Meditation technique holds no methods of attack or defence.
In this world, without the strength to fight, neither he nor his sister can survive.
So he decides to enter one of the martial arts schools in town.
But deciding to join a school doesn't mean abandoning the Crow Meditation technique.
The stranger who gave him the technique had told him to complete its practice, and Zian has no intention of breaking that promise.
That man's gift changed his fate, lifting him from despair, and for that, Zian feels only gratitude.
No matter what path he walks, he will finish cultivating the Crow Meditation technique.
Reading the book within his memory, he realises he has completed the first step, and the next is the second.
But before he can begin the second step, he must open a space within his mind.
The time for work comes, so he sets the thought aside and leaves.
When he returns home and lies on his bed, he gathers his spirit within his mind and follows the instructions of the technique.
He opens the spirit space.
Inside it, he visualises the nine runes, and they do not fade—instead, they remain, forming the outline of a crow.
According to the book, this marks him as a low-level wizard apprentice.
To reach the next stage, the mid-level apprentice must visualise eighteen more runes, bringing his total to twenty-seven.
He steadies his breath and begins the visualisation of the tenth rune.
The next day, he skips painting and visits the martial arts schools in town.
Disappointment follows him from one gate to another, as most schools refuse him for being past the proper age to cultivate martial arts, and those that accept demand fees beyond his reach.
At last, he finds a rundown school—its walls cracked, its courtyard half deserted.
By appearance alone, he should have walked away, yet he sees two children of a rich family training inside, which stirs his curiosity.
He decides to join the Spirit Rhino Martial School.
There, he learns the Rhino Qi technique, whose first step is to sense one's Qi.
Because of his introspect state, he succeeds within minutes and becomes a third-grade martial artist.
He conceals this, knowing that in the outside world, even the most gifted need hours to reach this stage.
Lacking the strength to protect himself, he avoids attention by pretending it took him four days to sense Qi.
This earns him moderate recognition—neither a prodigy nor ordinary, just promising enough that, had he started at five, he might have reached the rank of martial master.
But having crossed that age, his chance of reaching mastery is faint.
After that, he is taught the next stage of the Rhino Qi technique—a stretching exercise to spread Qi through his body, refining his muscles and bones, along with the Rhino Boxing technique to channel Qi in combat.
He cultivates martial arts at dawn, paints through the day, and before sleep, practices the Crow Meditation technique.
His days grow full and disciplined, yet he finds contentment in the rhythm.
He earns enough that he and his sister can eat nourishing meals daily, her health steadily improving, her cheeks regaining colour.
Each sunrise brings a subtle increase in his strength, and that quiet progress fills him with satisfaction.
A month later, he reaches the peak of third grade but keeps it hidden, unwilling to draw eyes toward his speed of advancement.
To make full use of his time, he devotes himself to mastering the Rhino Boxing technique.
Three months pass. Fifteen days before the new year, news spreads that the governor is organising a grand hunt in the fearsome Black Mountain Range, along the northwestern border of the Tang Kingdom.
The prefecture hosting the event is Shinji Prefecture; to its south lies Xuan Prefecture, to the east Qian Prefecture, and to the west a thin forest that borders the vast Dahe River.
All martial artists under twenty-five are required to participate, and thus, Zian must join as well.
The master of the Spirit Rhino School orders Senior Sister Luixi to teach him archery.
He doesn't hide his talent this time—his refined spirit control allows him to grasp the fundamentals easily, and within a single day, he masters the basics of archery.
Impressed by his rapid progress, the master personally instructs him in a third-grade Archery Technique known as the Whistle Arrow.
The day before the hunt, Zian receives two joyous revelations—he has fully mastered the Whistle Arrow technique, and within his meditation, the twenty-seventh rune completes its form.
He has reached the peak of the low-level wizard apprentice realm.
The next step is to visualise the twenty-eighth rune, but this time it is far more complex.
Unlike the others, it does not stand alone; it intertwines with the first, sixth, and twenty-fifth runes to form a new pattern.
He struggles for days, but his painting practice sharpens his focus, and only a few hours before the Great Hunt begins, he finally succeeds in visualising the twenty-eighth rune.
As the rune takes shape, the incomplete crow hums softly within his spirit space, drawing threads of spiritual energy into his body.
That energy nourishes his flesh and bones, refining them.
Amid the gathered energy, he senses a faint trace of dark elemental power—exactly as written in the technique, for only a mid-level wizard apprentice can perceive it.
Yet, despite the mention of its presence, the technique offers no guidance on how to wield it.
He examines his body and feels his physical strength swell beyond what it once was.
A thrill runs through him; he wants to test this newfound power in combat.
But with the Great Hunt only hours away, he restrains his excitement and sits cross-legged, sinking into meditation to stabilise his breakthrough.