The next three days passed without further disturbance, though Hazelrun itself remained far from peaceful.
Lyn remained inside his small hut, feigning illness while sect envoys worked their way through the village. When they finally reached him, their visit was brief and perfunctory. They examined his condition with little interest, asked what had happened when the sky turned gold, and received an answer no clearer than anyone else's. Once they realised he had nothing useful to add, they moved on. By the time the investigation ended, it had accounted for the destruction of Vale Ridge, the dead miners, and the casualties within the village. Lyn's name was buried somewhere among those records, attached to nothing important enough to warrant a second visit.
What could a lowly outer disciple possibly know that the sect's own envoys did not?
He remained indoors until the investigation ended and the last of the envoys departed Hazelrun. Only then did he step outside, where the sharp calls of birds greeted him from the nearby rooftops with enough persistence to grate against his patience. The irritation followed him only as far as the small market near the centre of the village. Several stalls had reopened, offering fresh produce, basic materials, and low-tier Shards, though few people had come to buy anything. Most of Hazelrun's attention remained fixed upon the dead. After all, graves still needed to be dug.
While moving between the stalls, Lyn was surrounded by the rough clamor of Hazelrun's market. Merchants shouted over one another from beneath patched awnings, waving strips of dried meat, cracked tools, bundles of bitter herbs, and cloudy bottles toward anyone who slowed.
"Fresh roots! Dug this morning!"
"Moonmilk Fruit! Two measures for one token!"
"Don't waste your coin on that rubbish—buy here!"
Lyn's gaze lingered on the pile. Each fruit was round and smooth, its milky-white skin shining beneath the daylight like polished pearl. Where several had split, thick ivory flesh glistened with clear, sweet-smelling juice. For a moment, he considered buying some. Then he noticed the brown bruises spreading beneath their skins and the softness of those at the bottom of the pile. They were already overripe. Lyn turned away and continued through the stalls. The market closed around him once more, heavy with the smell of sweat, dust, smoke, and old cooking grease. Wooden wheels groaned over uneven stone, animals snorted from narrow pens, and somewhere nearby a child began crying after being dragged away from a tray of sugared nuts.
Amid it all, Lyn noticed an old woman sweeping dust from the threshold of her home. Each stroke of the broom was slow and deliberate. Her back remained bent even when she paused to catch her breath, one thin hand pressing against the doorframe for support.
The sight stirred an ache beneath Lyn's ribs before he could prevent it.
Khor had cut trees for a living, while Mago sold fruit and produce from nearby villages. Their modest work had sustained a quiet life until Khor found Lyn beneath a crooked tree at the forest's edge. Though dirt surrounded him, none marked his skin. He neither cried nor showed fear, simply staring into the empty sky. Pity moved Khor to carry him home. He and Mago had never been able to have children, and though old enough to know they would miss most of Lyn's life, they adopted the child who had no one else. Khor taught him to split wood efficiently. Mago taught him to count Contribution Tokens and avoid dishonest merchants. Together, they taught him submission before strength, caution before pride, and survival without expecting fairness.
He had buried them behind the house. The memory deepened the ache beneath his ribs, but Lyn forced his attention elsewhere.
If I exchange all of the Ashrain residue, I should have enough Contribution Tokens for food and perhaps one Rank One Information Shard.
The tokens taken from the miners had not been enough. A miner earned only two or three Contribution Tokens per day, and some of the corpses had carried none when Lyn searched them. Knowledge demanded considerably more.
The Ashen Light Sect distributed common information through Rank One and Rank Two Light Information Shards, which contained maps, local politics, basic cultivation theory, and other material considered useful but not precious. Anything more valuable remained inside written books, where access could be restricted through formations.
Nevertheless, Lyn continued through the market, leaving its crowded stalls behind as he made his way toward the Contribution Office. The Elder on duty stood behind the main desk within a workshop, arranging several materials into separate groups. Three grey braids fell behind his shoulders, while faint Fire Essence leaked from his body despite the absence of any active technique.
The leakage revealed his cultivation clearly enough. Rank Four, Stage One.
"What do you want?" the Elder asked, keeping most of his attention on the materials before him.
"I came to exchange something."
Rather than approaching immediately, the Elder finished arranging the materials deeper within the workshop. Only after each piece had been placed to his satisfaction did he cross toward the desk.
"Well, then? Open your Shard Gate and show me the material."
Lyn formed a fissure no larger than his fingernail and allowed a single fragment of ash to pass through. The sight stripped away the Elder's boredom before the residue had fully emerged.
"Rank Four Ashrain residue!?" His gaze moved from the fragment to Lyn's lowered face. "How did you obtain this?"
He had a good reason to doubt what he had seen. For all he knew, the residue might have been falsified.
Lyn bowed his head and allowed uncertainty to soften his voice.
"I overslept, Elder. By the time I woke, the ridge had already been covered. I collected what little remained."
The Elder clicked his tongue, though suspicion had already replaced impatience in his eyes.
"You slept through an Ashrain? Lucky fool. You are one of the miners, then?"
Lyn offered no more than a slight nod and kept his gaze lowered. The explanation did not satisfy the Elder.
This is strange. His Essence leak clearly marks him as Rank Three Stage One. How did a Rank Three junior gather a Rank Four material?
Only a few possibilities presented themselves, and none fit comfortably.
If the residue is genuine, then either he is a Rank Four Dao Chosen concealing his cultivation, or he possesses a method capable of harvesting the residue despite the difference. A technique like that would not be cheap.
He looked Lyn over from head to toe. The second possibility clashed with Lyn's clothing, occupation, and status.
He is a miner. Why would someone wealthy enough to own such a method work at Vale Ridge? And if he is truly Rank Four, why would the higher-ups waste him in a mine?
Lyn remained silent while those doubts passed visibly through the Elder's expression. After several breaths, the old man returned his attention to the fragment, tested it, and accepted the remainder through Lyn's Shard Gate. The Elder opened a cabinet beside a rack of neatly arranged materials and counted out several golden pieces of glass, each one faintly gleaming as he dropped it into a small pouch. Lyn watched the Elder count them out, disappointment settling over him at the meagre sight. The old man was about to hand the pouch over when his arm suddenly stopped.
A miner?
His gaze snapped back toward Lyn.
"Hold on."
"Yes, Elder?"
The old man studied him more carefully. "You said you overslept?"
"Hmm? Yes."
"And you were assigned to Vale Ridge?"
He understood what the Elder was implying, but felt no panic. He had spent the past three days preparing for questions such as these.
"I reached the ridge late, just as the Ashrain was beginning to shift away. At first, I could barely see through it." He lowered his gaze, allowing unease to enter his voice. "Then I found the others."
The Elder's eyes narrowed. "And you entered the ridge despite recognizing a Rank Four Ashrain?"
"I did not know its rank until I was already close. When I saw the bodies, I thought the ash would turn back and kill me as well." Lyn paused. "I ran to Hazelrun and reported everything to the sect envoys immediately. They questioned me during the three day investigation."
Recognition flickered through the Elder's expression. The sect envoys had spent three entire days in Hazelrun, confirming the casualties, questioning villagers, and moving from house to house. Even the Elder had been questioned during their investigation. If Lyn's account had contained any obvious contradiction, the envoys would not have allowed him to remain undisturbed until their departure.
"So you are the last miner. Heaven favored you. Had you awakened earlier, you would have died beside the others." The Elder shook his head in disbelief.
After all how lucky could one person be, to oversleep on the very morning it saved his life?
Lyn lowered his head. "It appears so, Elder."
The old man continued studying him for several breaths before offering a curt word of thanks for the material.
Lyn sighed in relief when it seemed that the Elder had forgotten to inspect his Truth Carvings. The Sect had established procedures for irregularities long ago, after a Dao Chosen concealed his actual Truth Carvings and brought disaster upon the region. Those procedures should have compelled the Elder to investigate Lyn more carefully, but routine had weakened them. The Sect paid him to manage exchanges, not to chase every inconsistency that passed across his desk. Like many Elders assigned to poor villages, he valued the free hours remaining in his day more than his work.
Lyn bowed, secured the Contribution Tokens, and left before that indifference could change. The moment he stepped outside, intuition urged him toward the market. He trusted the impulse and quickened his pace without looking back.
Only after Lyn had disappeared among the village paths did the Elder reconsider the exchange. The boy had presented Rank Four Fire material, yet no trace of Fire Path cultivation had appeared within the Essence leaking from his body. The realization drove the Elder from the workshop, but by the time he reached the road, Lyn had already vanished from sight. Finding him presented an inconvenience the old man had no desire to accept. Lyn rarely visited that part of Hazelrun, leaving no obvious place to begin, and although the village was small, it was not so small that searching every road and house would be effortless.
Urgency faded as the Elder stood outside. The boy would return eventually. Or he would not. Neither outcome seemed worth the trouble. By then, Lyn had reached a stall selling plain bread and dried meat. Food consumed a noticeable portion of the Contribution Tokens he had received, but hunger offered little room for negotiation.
The Light Path stall stood several rows away. A young disciple, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, watched the sky from behind the display with the vacant expression of someone whose attention had drifted far from his work.
"I want to purchase a Rank One Light Information Shard," Lyn said.
The disciple startled badly enough to jolt the stall.
"O-of course."
After hurriedly straightening himself, he selected a thin, glass-like shard whose surface contained faint lines of writing. Lyn paid the required tokens, accepted it, and transferred it into his Vessel Realm. He expected the familiar resistance that accompanied a new Heavenly Shard as the Sea adjusted to its presence. Even weak Shards normally disturbed the surrounding power before settling into place. This one entered without resistance. The sensation resembled a key sliding into a lock. Lyn noted the absence, though the low price of the Shard offered an easy explanation.
He steadied his breathing and poured Essence into the Shard to refine it. As he did, he focused his intent on perceiving its contents. Knowledge unfolded across his awareness in a sudden rush. The Light Information Shard contained a map of the Ashen Light Sect's territory to an extent, classifications of resource points, the names of notable local Elders and disciples, cultivation ranks, theories concerning Truth Carvings, common bottlenecks, and the political relationships shaping the region.
Lyn made his way home before reviewing the information. He absorbed every detail without difficulty, much of it already familiar from his previous Information Shard. The repetition dulled any sense of discovery, and none of it inspired the awe one might expect from knowledge sold by a Sect. By the time he finished, the last traces of daylight had faded from Hazelrun.
Night settled over the village beneath damp air that made the lantern flames gutter. Their light cast trembling shadows across the mud-choked streets, while crickets called from the darkness beyond the houses. Laughter occasionally rose from barns, courtyards, and groups wandering between homes. Hazelrun's small population ensured that most people had known one another for years, and hardship often drove them toward drink and familiar company.
Lyn had never shared that need. He had formed no friendships within the village and found little value in the conversations that occupied those around him. While voices and laughter drifted through the streets, he sat cross-legged inside his hut and directed his awareness into his Vessel Realm.
The black Sea lay beneath the endless Sky, with his Heavenly Shards resting deep within it, suspended between galaxies. His Light Path Truth Carvings occupied the Sky as a cluster of dwarf stars, each one gathered near others of the same Path. Far beyond that cluster hung the golden symbol—too vast to be called a dwarf star, larger than any celestial body Lyn had ever seen. No dwarf stars orbited it, nor did it appear drawn toward the familiar Light Path formation. Whatever Path it belonged to, Lyn possessed no knowledge capable of naming it.
When Truth Carvings solidify, they become dwarf stars and gather according to Path. Light remains with Light, as though they form families.
His attention remained fixed upon the solitary object. The Star neither interacted with the surrounding Truth Carvings nor revealed any obvious purpose, leaving Lyn with observation but no conclusion. By the time he withdrew his awareness, one decision had become unavoidable. The following day, he would have to visit the Sect library. Spending more Contribution Tokens troubled him, especially after the cost of food and the Light Information Shard, yet uncertainty surrounding the golden Symbol carried risks he could not measure. He needed to determine whether it possessed some use or resembled a sickness that had entered his Vessel Realm and needed to be cut out.
Sleep brought him no closer to an answer.
When morning reached Hazelrun, that question remained at the forefront of his thoughts. Lyn sat upon the edge of the bed instead of leaving immediately, reviewing the foundations of cultivation in the hope that some overlooked connection might provide an answer.
Can I determine what the Symbol is from what I already know?
Every Dao Chosen possessed a Vessel Realm divided into the Sea and the Sky. The Sea stored neutral power and Heavenly Shards. The Sky held Truth Carvings, condensed understanding that appeared as dwarf stars and strengthened a cultivator's control over a Path.
The golden star resembled neither a Truth Carving nor a Heavenly Shard. Lyn's knowledge remained too shallow for certainty, especially when the laws governing other Dao Chosen had never applied to him perfectly. He could store materials without matching Truth Carvings. Until now, such abnormalities had benefited him. This one might be a blessing, a poison, or something beyond either. Lyn was disappointed that his reasoning had led nowhere, though hardly surprised.
He simply lacked the knowledge to understand what had entered his Vessel Realm. With that settled, he left the bed, stepped outside, and closed the hut behind him. The sect library stood deeper within Hazelrun. Few villagers visited because access cost more than most could afford, but the price reflected the knowledge stored inside.
While walking towards the library, Lyn calculated what remained of his resources.
I should have enough Contribution Tokens to enter and still retain something for food and basic necessities.
The estimate did little to ease the pressure of the expense. The library distinguished itself from the surrounding buildings before he reached its door. Most structures in Hazelrun consisted of timber, brick, or ordinary stone, whereas the library had been constructed from Wood-refining Ore. When properly refined and shaped, the material strengthened formations considerably. Formations were, in simple terms, area effects created through combinations of Heavenly Shards and specific materials. In the library, the formation had been built directly into the walls and shaped so that its influence remained restricted to the interior.
Despite the value of its construction, the building appeared plain. Only the dark colour of its walls set it apart, resembling wood from Earth that had been blackened by fire. The cost of entering explained why so few people approached it. Six Contribution Tokens had already gone toward food, while fifteen had purchased the Rank One Information Shard. Another fifteen would disappear simply to grant Lyn one hour inside the library. Almost nothing would remain afterward. The calculation drew a quiet breath from him before he opened the door. He felt cold air settle against his skin as soon as he entered. Another door waited ahead, while a disciple stood to the right behind a narrow desk. He appeared to be in his mid twenties, with long hair and a stern gaze that looked practiced enough to have become habit.
"Welcome. State your name, Path, whether you belong to the inner sect, sect proper, or outer sect, your occupation, and provide fifteen Contribution Tokens."
Contempt stirred within Lyn, though he concealed it beneath a polite smile.
"Of course, sir. My name is Lyn. I primarily cultivate the Light Path, and I am a Prestige Three outer disciple. Until recently, I worked at Vale Ridge."
He placed the required tokens upon the desk while adding a slight nervousness to his voice. Outer disciples rarely deserved attention within the sect. They cultivated fields, mined materials, carried supplies, and performed the physical labour upon which those above them depended.
The disciple examined Lyn without interest.
"Rank Three? You may enter the Basic Section for one hour. Once the time expires, the formation will withdraw access and the books will become unreadable."
A sharper anticipation entered his gaze as he continued.
"Do not attempt to copy information, steal anything, or interfere with the formation. If you do, it will activate and paralyze you."
"Of course," Lyn replied.
The disciple handed him an iron key engraved with faintly glowing golden letters. Section Basics. The door ahead opened without being touched. Once Lyn crossed the threshold, it closed behind him and sealed away the entrance. Three additional doors stood within the chamber beyond, each formed from a material he did not recognize. The left door bore the words Section Basics, while Section Experienced marked the middle and Section Honorable the right. Lyn inserted the key into the lock of the Basic Section without wasting time.
The door opened upon a space far larger than the building's exterior should have contained. Shelves extended into the distance beneath the formation's pale light, filled with more books than the building appeared capable of holding.
How can the interior be so much larger than the building outside?
Lyn moved between the shelves while reading the signs marking each subject. Shard theory, history of the known world, maps, politics, elementary formation knowledge, basic combat insights, naming conventions, identifying useful materials, and countless other topics occupied their own sections. Most offered nothing relevant to the question that had brought him there. He continued deeper, searching for anything connected to the event above Hazelrun.
Is there no section concerning natural disasters?
Frustration tightened his expression, though he refused to let it slow the search. After passing another row of shelves, his attention settled upon a sign farther ahead.
'Rifts and Disasters.' Interest returned to his eyes as he approached the section.