I felt the summons before I heard it.
A soft chime rang behind my ribs, like someone had plucked a silver thread inside my chest. The air in my small attic room shimmered. I knelt automatically — spine straight, hands folded, breath steady.
This was how Heaven called its servants.
A mirror of polished white jade floated into view. Its surface was calm, glowing faintly with pale blue light. I bowed my head until my forehead touched the floor.
"Servant Lin Xue," a clear voice spoke — gentle, but with a tone that allowed no questions. "Raise your head."
I obeyed.
In the mirror, I did not see a face. Heaven did not need one. Instead, I saw shifting light — like clouds reflecting sunlight over water.
The first time Heaven spoke to me, I cried. I was twelve then, a street orphan with nothing but hunger and stubbornness. Heaven saw me. Heaven chose me. That was the greatest honor any soul could receive.
Even now, years later, my heart beat fast. Not with fear — with pride.
"I am here," I said.
The light rippled. "Your next assignment begins now."
I lowered my gaze again. "I will complete it."
Heaven's voice sounded like wind through bells. Calm. Certain. Holy.
"Cloudrest Peak," it said. "A large cultivation sect in the Northern Range. Its Sect Master, Shen Qianhe, has altered the flow of spirit energy in his region. His intentions are unknown."
My breath remained steady, though my fingers curled slightly on my robe.
Cultivators.
People who trained their bodies and minds to guide the energy of the world. Many were devoted to Heaven's teachings — but some… wandered. Those who strayed from Heavenly order brought imbalance. Chaos. Suffering.
"He cannot be allowed to change the natural order without oversight," Heaven continued. "You will observe."
"Yes."
"You will send daily reports."
"Yes."
"You will remain unnoticed."
"Yes."
"You will not fail."
"My life belongs to Heaven," I answered. And it was true.
The mirror glowed brighter — approval.
But then the light dimmed slightly, and the tone shifted — softer, heavier.
"Lin Xue," Heaven said. "Your faith is your strength. It must remain pure."
Something inside me went very still.
This was a test.
Not of skill.
Not of stealth.
But of conviction.
"Yes," I whispered.
The light steadied. "Good. You will be inserted as an administrative assistant to the Sect Master himself. You will have access. Observation begins the moment you arrive."
Cloudrest Peak's Sect Master.
Shen Qianhe.
I had heard the name. Calm, strategic, respected. Some called him brilliant. Others called him dangerous. A leader who never raised his voice, yet moved entire sects to follow him.
Someone Heaven did not fully understand.
Which meant I would.
The mirror glowed brighter once more. "One more matter, Lin Xue."
I lifted my chin slightly. "Yes?"
The air in the room thickened — not heavy, not frightening — but holy. Like the moment before a temple's bell is struck.
"You have performed well," Heaven said. "Among all Observers, your record remains without flaw. For this, you are granted advancement."
My heart jolted.
Advancement.
Recognition.
Purpose.
"From this day," the voice continued, "you are designated Permanent Observer of the Mortal Realm. Your duties will not end. Your service is forever. Your place in Heaven's order is secured."
Permanent.
Forever.
Some would fear that.
But I felt… relieved. Seen. Chosen.
My voice remained level, but warmth spread through my chest.
"I accept," I said. "Thank you."
The mirror flickered once. Then the light folded inward, like a flame being drawn back into a lantern.
The summons ended.
Silence returned to my small room.
I did not move at first. I let the quiet settle. My heartbeat slowed. My breath softened. I touched the jade ring I wore — the symbol of Heaven's mark — letting its smooth surface ground me.
Permanent Observer.
A role of high responsibility.
Higher honor.
Higher expectation.
I stood. Packed my writing brush, my sealing wax, my scrolls, and my plain traveling cloak. I did not own much. Heaven had provided all I needed, and I had never desired excess.
Before I left, I knelt one last time.
Not because I doubted.
But because devotion deserved to be spoken, not just felt.
"My purpose," I whispered into the quiet room, "is to serve Heaven's order. Let my hands be steady. Let my voice be clear. Let my belief be unwavering."
My breath stilled.
My heart strengthened.
"I will not fail."