Wang Ben jolted awake, his heart pounding.
The dream was fading already—fragments of impossible things scattering like smoke in wind. Metal towers reaching toward alien stars. A void that stretched for eternity. Waves of something that wasn't quite water tearing at something that wasn't quite his soul.
And faces. So many faces.
All of them gone.
He lay there in his narrow bed, breathing hard, waiting for his pulse to slow. The tiny room was still dark—dawn hadn't yet broken over Redstone City. Through the paper screen window, he could see the faint glow of the eastern horizon, tinting the world in shades of gray.
Just a dream, he told himself. Just another strange dream.
They'd been happening since he was three years old. His parents had taken him to see Elder Wang Mingzhe when he was five, after he'd woken up screaming about "dying stars" and "hungry darkness." The elder had examined his meridians, checked his cultivation foundation, even consulted the clan's ancient texts on soul defects.
Nothing.
"The boy is perfectly normal," Elder Wang had declared. "Perhaps too much spirit beast meat in his diet. Some children have vivid imaginations."
His father had looked relieved. His mother had looked skeptical. Wang Ben had learned to keep the dreams to himself after that.
But they'd never stopped.
Sometimes they were about cultivation—techniques he'd never learned, insights into the Dao that he couldn't possibly understand at Body Refinement Stage 3. Sometimes they were about... other things. Stranger things. Machines that thought. Stars that burned cold. Battles that spanned the void between worlds.
Nonsense. All of it.
Wang Ben sat up, rubbing his eyes. His small room looked back at him in the pre-dawn gloom. A narrow bed. A wooden chest for his clothes. A single shelf with his cultivation manuals—basic clan techniques that every outer branch member received. A bronze mirror on the wall, its surface tarnished with age.
Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary.
Just like him.
From downstairs, he heard movement. His mother, probably, already up to prepare breakfast. The baby—his little brother Wang Chen, just three weeks old—would be waking soon, demanding to be fed with the tyrannical insistence of all infants.
Wang Ben splashed water on his face from the basin beside his bed, trying to wash away the lingering unease from the dream. His reflection in the bronze mirror looked perfectly ordinary. Fifteen years old. Average height for his age. Dark hair pulled back in a simple tail. Brown eyes that held no particular spark of genius.
Body Refinement Stage 3. Exactly where a moderately talented cultivator should be at his age.
Not too fast. Not too slow. Just... average.
He threw on his outer patrol robes—plain gray cloth marked with the small formation-spiral that designated him as part of the Wang Clan. The symbol looked faded, worn from too many washings. Like everything else in their household, it had seen better days.
Nine years, Wang Ben thought as he descended the narrow stairs. Nine years since Father's fall.
The main room of their modest home was already warm, a fire crackling in the hearth. His mother stood by the cooking pot, stirring something that smelled of grain and herbs. She looked up as he entered, her expression softening.
"You're up early," Li Mei said. Her voice was quiet, careful not to wake the baby sleeping in a cradle by the wall. "Another dream?"
Wang Ben hesitated, then nodded. His mother was practical about most things, but she'd always taken his dreams more seriously than his father did.
"The same?" she asked.
"Fragments," Wang Ben said, which wasn't quite a lie. "Nothing that makes sense."
Li Mei studied him for a moment, then returned to her cooking. "Your grandfather used to have vivid dreams," she said quietly. "Before he disappeared. He said they were the soul trying to remember things it had forgotten."
Wang Ben had heard this before. His maternal grandfather, Li Cheng, had been a Core Formation Stage 1 cultivator—a powerful weapon forger in Ironforge City, two hundred kilometers to the west. He'd disappeared five years ago during a major beast tide, one of hundreds of cultivators who'd simply never returned.
His mother still believed the old man was alive somewhere, injured and recovering. Wang Ben wasn't so sure. Five years was a long time for a Core Formation cultivator to hide.
"Father's still asleep?" Wang Ben asked, changing the subject.
"He was up late with the baby," Li Mei said. "Let him rest."
Wang Ben nodded. His father, Wang Tian, worked long hours doing formation maintenance for the clan—basic work that required minimal cultivation and even less skill. The kind of work that paid barely enough to keep a family fed.
It hadn't always been this way.
Ten years ago, Wang Tian had been Qi Condensation Stage 7, one of the clan's most promising alchemists. At his peak, he could refine Grade 8 pills—work that brought honor to the family and resources to the clan. He'd even possessed a Grade 8 Spirit Fire, a treasure that most alchemists could only dream of.
Then he'd tried to refine a Grade 7 pill. Foundation Establishment level work, far beyond his cultivation stage.
The Spirit Fire had gone berserk. His meridians had burned from the inside. His cultivation had fallen from Stage 7 to Stage 5 in a single catastrophic failure. His alchemy skills had regressed from Grade 8 to Grade 9.
Nine years later, he was Qi Condensation Stage 5, barely maintaining that level. His alchemy was a joke—Grade 9 pills with a thirty percent success rate, work that even talented teenagers could exceed.
The Grade 8 Spirit Fire still sat in his dantian, dormant and unused. Too dangerous to access. Too valuable to remove, even if removal were possible.
A treasure he couldn't use. A reminder of everything he'd lost.
Wang Ben had been six years old when it happened. He remembered his father's screams, the smell of burning flesh, the clan elders rushing to their modest home with healing pills and grim faces.
He remembered his mother's expression—not angry, never angry—just... resigned. As if she'd always known their good fortune couldn't last.
"Eat," Li Mei said, ladling porridge into a bowl. "You have patrol duty this morning."
Wang Ben accepted the bowl, settling onto a cushion by the low table. The porridge was simple—grain mixed with dried spirit herbs, nothing expensive. Just enough spiritual energy to help with cultivation, not enough to waste resources on an average outer branch member.
"Where are they sending you today?" his mother asked.
"North patrol," Wang Ben said between bites. "The herb fields by Blackwood Forest. Just watching for spirit beasts that get too close to the gathering areas."
"Be careful," Li Mei said automatically. "The forest has been... strange lately."
Wang Ben looked up. "Strange how?"
His mother frowned, stirring the remaining porridge. "The servants who gather herbs have been reporting odd things. Beasts moving in unusual patterns. Atmospheric changes. The clan elders say it's nothing, but..." She shook her head. "Just be careful."
"I'm always careful," Wang Ben said, which was true. He had no desire to be a hero. Heroes in cultivation stories always had tragic backstories and incredible talent. He had neither the tragedy nor the talent.
Well, the tragedy, maybe. But tragedy alone didn't make you special. It just made you sad.
The baby stirred in his cradle, making the small squeaking sounds that preceded a full cry. Li Mei moved immediately, lifting the infant with practiced ease.
Wang Chen—named for both the Chen of their clan and the hope of a new morning—blinked up at his mother with the unfocused gaze of the very young. He was so small, so fragile. A life that had just begun, untouched by disappointment or failure.
"Hello, little one," Li Mei murmured, settling into a chair to feed him. "Did you sleep well?"
Wang Ben watched his mother with his brother, feeling the familiar mix of affection and melancholy. Wang Chen represented hope in a way that Wang Ben never had. A second chance for the family. A possibility that things might be different.
Maybe he'll be the talented one, Wang Ben thought. Maybe he'll restore our family's honor.
It was a pleasant fantasy, though Wang Ben knew better than to expect it. Talent wasn't inherited like hair color or height. The heavens gave out genius randomly, cruelly, without regard for who deserved it or who needed it.
"I should go," Wang Ben said, finishing his porridge. "Morning assembly is in half an hour."
"Take an extra spirit stone," his mother said, not looking up from the baby. "For emergencies."
"Mother, I'm just watching herb fields—"
"Take it."
Wang Ben sighed but didn't argue. He retrieved a low-grade spirit stone from the family's modest collection—a small pouch in a locked box that contained their entire liquid wealth. Five low-grade stones remained. His monthly stipend would add five more in two weeks.
Wealth beyond measure, he thought wryly.
He tucked the stone into his belt pouch, adjusted his patrol robes, and headed for the door.
"Ben," his mother called softly.
He turned back.
Li Mei was looking at him now, her expression unreadable. "If something feels wrong today," she said, "trust that feeling. Your dreams aren't nothing, no matter what the elders say."
Wang Ben wanted to dismiss it, to say she was being superstitious. But something in her tone stopped him.
"I will," he said instead.
The Wang Clan
Redstone City sprawled across the valley like a sleeping beast, its red-clay walls catching the morning light. The city wasn't large by cultivation world standards—maybe thirty thousand mortals, two thousand cultivators, a few dozen Core Formation experts. But it was home.
The Wang Clan compound occupied the eastern district, a walled complex of training grounds, workshops, and residential buildings. Not as grand as the city lord's palace in the center, but respectable. The sign above the main gate bore the clan's symbol—a formation array stylized into a spiral, representing their specialty.
Wang Ben joined the flow of clan members heading through the gates. Most were young like him, outer branch members assigned to patrol duty or resource gathering. The inner branch disciples trained separately, receiving better techniques and more resources.
The benefits of talent, Wang Ben thought without particular bitterness. He'd long since accepted his place in the hierarchy.
The morning assembly was held in the eastern courtyard, where about fifty patrol members gathered in loose formation. Wang Ben found his usual spot near the back, nodding to the few people he knew by name.
"Wang Ben," someone said quietly beside him.
He turned to see Liu Feng, a fellow outer branch member who'd started patrol duty the same year. Liu Feng was nineteen now, still Body Refinement Stage 4 despite four years of cultivation. Not as average as Wang Ben, but close.
"Liu Feng," Wang Ben acknowledged.
"North patrol again?" Liu Feng asked.
"Herb fields."
"Lucky you. I got eastern territory. There's been spotted wolf activity near the boundary stones."
Wang Ben made a sympathetic noise. Spotted wolves were only Rank 1 spirit beasts—equivalent to Body Refinement Stage 3 or 4—but they hunted in packs. Dangerous enough if you weren't careful.
"Attention!" A voice cut through the morning chatter.
Squad Leader Chen stood at the front of the assembly, his Qi Condensation Stage 6 cultivation radiating authority that made the younger members straighten automatically. He was a stern man in his forties, someone who'd reached his limit in cultivation and now served the clan in administrative roles.
"Standard patrol assignments," Squad Leader Chen announced, reading from a scroll. "North sector: Wang Ben, Zhao Yu, Servant Li San, Servant Ma Hong. You'll be covering the herb fields by Blackwood Forest. Report anything unusual immediately."
Wang Ben committed the names to memory. Zhao Yu was another Body Refinement cultivator, Stage 5 if he remembered correctly. The servants were mortals—peasants who did the actual herb gathering while cultivators stood guard.
"South sector: Liu Feng, Wei Ming..."
The assignments continued. Wang Ben let his attention drift, watching the sky lighten over the compound walls. Another day. Another patrol. Another step in the slow, grinding process of cultivation that would probably leave him at Foundation Establishment if he was lucky, Qi Condensation if he wasn't.
Not everyone can be a genius, he reminded himself. Someone has to be average.
The assembly dispersed after Squad Leader Chen finished. Wang Ben made his way to the equipment shed, where he collected his assigned gear: a basic iron spear, a signal flare, a water skin, and a small pack of dried rations.
"Wang Ben?"
He turned to see Zhao Yu approaching—a stocky young man with a friendly face and the confident bearing of someone who'd never known real failure. Zhao Yu came from the inner branch, but some disciplinary issue had landed him on patrol duty for the month.
"That's me," Wang Ben said.
"I'm Zhao Yu. Looks like we're partners today." He grinned. "First time on herb field duty. Anything I should know?"
Stay alert, watch for beast signs, don't wander off, Wang Ben could have said. But Zhao Yu probably knew all that already.
"It's usually quiet," Wang Ben said instead. "The real danger is boredom."
Zhao Yu laughed. "I can handle boredom."
The servants arrived—two middle-aged men in worn clothing, carrying large wicker baskets for gathering herbs. Li San and Ma Hong. They bowed respectfully to the cultivators, their eyes downcast.
"Ready when you are, young masters," Li San said.
Wang Ben resisted the urge to tell them not to call him that. He was barely a cultivator, still stuck in Body Refinement. But to mortals, even a Body Refinement cultivator was a figure of power and status.
"Let's go," Zhao Yu said cheerfully.
The four of them set out through the northern gate, leaving the city behind as they followed the packed earth road toward Blackwood Forest.
The morning was beautiful, Wang Ben had to admit. Clear sky, gentle breeze, the distant mountains purple against the horizon. Spirit energy hung thick in the air this close to the forest—not abundant by sect standards, but decent for a frontier region.
"So," Zhao Yu said as they walked, "I heard your father used to be a pretty amazing alchemist."
Wang Ben tensed slightly. "That was a long time ago."
"Still, Grade 8 pills at Qi Condensation Stage 7? That's impressive. I heard he even had a Grade 8 Spirit Fire."
"He still has it," Wang Ben said quietly. "He just can't use it anymore."
"Oh." Zhao Yu had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," Wang Ben interrupted. "Everyone knows what happened."
They walked in awkward silence for a while. Behind them, the servants trudged along, their wicker baskets creaking softly.
Why do people always bring up Father's glory days? Wang Ben wondered. Do they think it's encouraging? Do they think I don't know what we lost?
The road curved, and Blackwood Forest came into view—a dark wall of ancient trees stretching along the northern horizon. The forest was old, predating the city by centuries. Spirit beasts lived in its depths, some of them powerful enough to threaten even Core Formation cultivators.
But the herb fields they were assigned to patrol weren't in the forest itself. They were on the cleared land at its edge, where the clan had planted rows of low-grade spirit herbs that thrived on the forest's ambient energy.
"There," Li San said, pointing to a section of fields about a hundred meters from the tree line. "We'll start gathering there, young masters."
"Fine," Zhao Yu said. "Wang Ben and I will split up. I'll take the western edge, you take the eastern?"
Wang Ben nodded. It was standard procedure. The cultivators formed a perimeter while the servants worked, watching for any beasts that might be drawn by the spiritual energy of the herbs.
They took up their positions. The servants began their work, moving through the rows with practiced efficiency, identifying mature herbs and carefully harvesting them without damaging the roots.
Wang Ben leaned on his spear, scanning the tree line. Nothing moved except the wind in the branches. Birds sang somewhere in the canopy. A perfectly normal morning.
Mother's worried about nothing, he thought. Everything's fine.
But even as he thought it, something nagged at him. A feeling he couldn't quite place. Like the air pressure was wrong, or the light was at the wrong angle, or—
He shook his head. You're imagining things. Too many strange dreams.
Time passed slowly. The sun climbed higher. The servants filled their baskets with herbs—nothing valuable, just common spirit plants used in low-grade pills and formation materials. The kind of work that kept a clan supplied with basics but would never make anyone rich.
Wang Ben's mind wandered as he stood watch. He thought about his cultivation, about the Body Refinement manual he'd been studying. He was close to Stage 4—maybe another month if he worked hard. Then Stage 5 by the end of the year if he was lucky.
At this rate, I'll be Qi Condensation by twenty-five, he calculated. Foundation Establishment by seventy if everything goes perfectly. Core Formation by two hundred if I'm one of the lucky ones.
It was a depressing thought. Two hundred years old and only Core Formation—if he even made it that far. His grandfather had reached Core Formation at one hundred and thirty and been considered a genius of his generation.
But at least I'm not going backward like Father, Wang Ben thought, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it.
"Young Master Wang!"
Wang Ben snapped to attention. Li San was waving at him from the herb field, pointing toward the forest.
"Did you see that?" the servant called.
"See what?"
"Something moved in the trees. Something big."
Wang Ben's grip tightened on his spear. He scanned the tree line more carefully, searching for movement.
There. A shadow between the trunks, too large to be a bird, too deliberate to be wind-blown branches.
"Zhao Yu," Wang Ben called. "Movement at ten o'clock, thirty meters into the tree line."
The other cultivator jogged over, his own weapon ready. "I see it. Could be a deer."
"Could be," Wang Ben agreed. But something about it felt wrong.
The shadow moved again, and Wang Ben caught a glimpse of pale fur, too light for any normal forest creature. His heart rate picked up.
"That's not a deer," he said quietly.
Before Zhao Yu could respond, the creature stepped into view.
It looked like a wolf at first glance—four legs, furred body, predator's build. But wolves weren't white like fresh snow. Wolves didn't have antlers growing from their heads. And wolves definitely didn't radiate spiritual energy like a Qi Condensation cultivator.
"That's a Jade Snow Wolf," Zhao Yu breathed. "Rank 2 spirit beast. What's it doing this far from the deep forest?"
Wang Ben's mind raced. Jade Snow Wolves were territorial, aggressive, and far too strong for Body Refinement cultivators to handle. A single one could kill them both easily.
"Signal flare," Wang Ben said, keeping his voice calm. "We need backup."
"Right." Zhao Yu fumbled for the flare at his belt.
The wolf's head turned, its luminous eyes fixing on them. Its lips peeled back, revealing teeth like white daggers.
And then it started walking toward them.
"Light the flare!" Wang Ben shouted.
Zhao Yu struck the flare and threw it skyward. It burst overhead in a shower of red sparks—the universal signal for danger, visible from the city walls.
Help would come. Eventually.
But the wolf was already moving, and help was at least ten minutes away.
Wang Ben raised his spear, knowing it was futile. Body Refinement Stage 3 against Rank 2 spirit beast? He might as well try to stop a landslide with a broom.
The wolf's muscles bunched, preparing to charge.
And deep inside Wang Ben's consciousness, in a place he had no awareness of, something stirred.
A dormant system, watching. Calculating. Analyzing the threat level and cross-referencing against parameters set fifteen years ago.
Threat Level: MODERATE
Host Survival Probability: 12.4%
Estimated Time to Death: 87 seconds
Assessment: Within acceptable parameters for activation
Processing...
The wolf charged.
And in the depths of Wang Ben's soul, buried so deep that even gods couldn't sense it, a damaged AI opened one digital eye.
END OF CHAPTER 4