The morning mist clung lazily to Wen Clan Mountain, drifting across the ancient towers like wandering spirits. Sunlight sliced through the fog in thin, golden beams, revealing the sprawling training courtyard below. Disciples surged across the stone grounds, their bodies twisting and striking with rhythmic precision. Fists cracked the air, feet slammed into the ground, and the pulse of cultivated qi vibrated faintly beneath every movement.
To the clan, it was just another morning of discipline.
To Wen Chen… it was the morning that would change everything.
He stood near the corner of the training field, a small child compared to the older youths around him—lean, quiet, and easily overlooked. But his eyes were alive, tracking every movement of the others, feeling every tremor in the air. His chest heaved gently from earlier exercises, and frustration simmered deep inside him.
Why am I always the weakest?
The question stabbed at him every day.
His Mortal Root, the lowest grade of talent, chained him to mediocrity. No matter how hard he tried, his qi circulation stalled. His body resisted tempering. His growth crawled at a snail's pace.
His father, Wen Jian—the clan's stern patriarch—never hid his disappointment. His older brother, Wen Hao, mocked him daily. "The weakling of the Wen Clan," Wen Hao called him, loud enough for others to hear.
But today… today felt different.
Something tugged at Wen Chen's awareness. A whisper. A pulse. A sensation he couldn't describe, rising from somewhere invisible.
Before he could make sense of it—
"Oi, Wen Chen!"
A sharp voice cut through the air.
Wen Ming strutted forward, golden eyes gleaming with arrogance. "A Mortal Root like you shouldn't stand so close. You'll only mess up the atmosphere."
Wen Chen didn't answer. He simply breathed in… and out. Focusing. Calming the ache in his chest.
His fight wouldn't be in words.
The courtyard erupted with the crack of staffs, the roar of clashing qi, the determined grunts of disciples pushing their limits.
Then—
In the middle of all that chaos—
something impossible happened.
A tiny glimmer floated near a group of disciples—a spot of golden light, no bigger than a firefly.
Wen Chen's breath hitched.
No one else reacted.
No one else… saw it.
The orb drifted gently, as if carried by a breeze that touched only him. A soft warmth radiated from it, tugging at his fingertips.
His heart pounded.
Is this… calling me?
He stepped closer, hands trembling slightly. The orb pulsed brighter with each step, almost eager.
Then—
Touch.
A brilliant flash swallowed his vision. A soft chime rang inside his mind like a silver bell echoing across an empty hall.
And then…
A panel of glowing text unfolded before him.
---
[Floating Golden System Panel]
Name: Wen Chen
Cultivation: Body Tempering – Stage 1
Talent Grade: Mortal Root
Talent Progress: 0%
Luck Points: 1 → 6
System Function:
Luck Points can upgrade Talent.
Luck Orbs appear only during cultivation activities.
Only the host can see or absorb them.
---
Wen Chen's eyes widened.
He nearly gasped aloud.
A warmth spread through his body—gentle, thrilling, alive.
But then something even stranger happened.
More lights—faint ones—began to flicker above other disciples.
Green orbs shimmered over those straining their bodies through intense physical training.
Blue orbs sparkled over disciples learning new moves, their minds focused sharply.
Red orbs burst from sparring duels, glowing like sparks from a forge.
White orbs hovered over rare moments of enlightenment.
No one looked up.
No one reacted.
Only Wen Chen saw them.
The orbs drifted… toward him.
"What are you staring at?" Wen Ming snapped.
Wen Chen didn't hear him.
His hand shot forward—touch.
Another orb dissolved. Then another. Each one filling him with energy, clarity, confidence.
[Luck +5 → 11]
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
For the first time in his life—
the world wasn't ignoring him. It was responding to him.
Suddenly, a violent clash drew Wen Chen's attention. Two older disciples clashed fists, qi exploding like thunder. A massive red orb shot up from their struggle, swirling with violent energy.
Wen Chen's pulse quickened.
He darted forward—
Dodged a spinning kick—
Leapt over a swinging staff—
And reached—
Touch!
Golden light engulfed him again.
---
[Floating Golden System Panel]
Talent Progress: 0% → 5%
Luck Points: 11 → 36
---
"What—what is he doing?!" Wen Ming stuttered.
To everyone else, Wen Chen just looked like a child frantically running around touching air.
But Wen Chen knew better.
Oh, he knew.
With every orb, his heart pounded harder.
His lungs burned.
His muscles vibrated.
But more importantly—
He felt hope. Real hope.
Dozens of orbs drifted into his reach. He absorbed them one by one until the warmth inside him became a steady glow.
By midday, the sun blazed overhead. Sweat dripped down his small face, but his eyes were bright… sharper… alive.
His fingers brushed one last fading orb.
"I will surpass them," he whispered to himself.
"Slowly… quietly… one orb at a time."
The wind swept across the courtyard. Leaves rustled. Dust rose.
A faint golden ripple spread across the sky—subtle, silent, unseen.
Except by one child.
Wen Chen reached for another orb.
Golden light danced across his fingertips.
His rise had begun.
---