The two Karma Points felt like a physical warmth nestled in his chest, a tiny reservoir of potential. The Demiurge's Ledger, now a permanent, faint shimmer at the edge of his perception, listed his balance clearly. Karma: 2.
Lin Feng's first instinct was to spend them. To analyze something vital, to find a shortcut out of his crippled state. But the cold, logical part of him, the part that had survived a modern world of student debt and competitive job markets, screamed caution. The Ledger had charged him one point for a basic analysis of his own roots and put him in debt. What would a more complex query cost? The system operated on an economy he didn't yet understand, and until he knew the exchange rates, spending was reckless. A resource was only as good as the intelligence guiding its use.
His immediate problems were more mundane. Zhang Hai's temporary retreat, his damaged meridians, and the fact that he'd skipped morning bell. The sect had rules, and while outer disciples were expendable, blatant delinquency invited public punishment, which was a different kind of resource drain time, dignity, and health.
He stood, his body protesting with aches. Moving slowly, he went through the meager possessions of the original Lin Feng. A change of identical grey outer disciple robes, worn thin at the elbows. A wooden comb. A single, low-grade Spirit Stone, smaller than his thumbnail, its inner glow faint and uneven his monthly stipend, already half-depleted from the month. And a small, cloth-wrapped bundle containing three Qi-Gathering Pills, the most basic cultivation aid, each no bigger than a pea. They smelled of dried grass and weak mint. Treasures to the previous owner; to Lin Feng, they looked like underdosed vitamins.
He swallowed one of the pills dry, the bitter taste coating his tongue. A feeble trickle of neutral energy spread through his stomach, but as it tried to enter his meridian channels, it met the jagged, metal-tainted blockage near his dantian. The energy diffused uselessly, most of it dissipating, a small fraction absorbed by his battered body to soothe the aches. The efficiency was appalling.
"Like pouring water into a shattered cup," he murmured.
He changed into the cleaner robe, splashed icy water from a basin on his face, and stepped out of the dormitory.
The Azure Cloud Sect was built into the side of a vast, mist-wreathed mountain range. The outer disciple quarters were at the lowest tier clusters of stone buildings clinging to the mountain like lichen. The air was thick with spiritual energy compared to Earth, but to Lin Feng, it felt like trying to breathe soup. The energy was there, but it didn't want to come to him.
He joined the stream of grey-robed disciples heading toward the central compound. The atmosphere was a palpable mix of desperation and quiet ambition. Eyes darted, assessing. Shoulders were hunched against the chill and the ever-present pressure of hierarchy. He saw Zhang Hai up ahead, laughing loudly with his cronies, but the bully didn't turn around. The seed of doubt had been planted; for now, it was enough.
His destination was the Duties Hall, a cavernous building where the endless menial labor of the sect was organized. The line for assignment was already long. The air smelled of sweat, dust, and the faint, astringent scent of cleansing solutions.
The disciple behind the assignment desk, an older outer disciple with a perpetually sour expression and a ledger of his own, didn't look up as Lin Feng approached.
"Name. Reason for lateness."
"Lin Feng. Meridian discomfort, Senior Brother." He kept his voice neutral, neither defiant nor groveling.
The disciple's eyes flicked up, scanning him with the bored contempt of a minor bureaucrat. He checked his ledger. "Zhang Hai reported you for laziness and insolence. West Peak spirit latrines. A week's rotation. Effective immediately."
So, Zhang Hai had still made his move, just through official channels. A week cleaning those latrines would set his recovery back by a month and stain his spiritual sense with foul residues. Public refusal meant immediate expulsion or a beating from the Discipline Hall.
Lin Feng didn't flinch. He'd anticipated this. The bureaucratic counter-move.
"Respectfully, Senior Brother," Lin Feng said, his tone dipping into one of concerned confusion. "I have the assignment slip from yesterday for the Herb Garden irrigation channels on South Peak. Overseer Liang himself signed it. A three-day rotation. It was in my possession when Senior Brother Zhang provided his guidance yesterday evening." He let the pause hang. "I fear the slip may have been misplaced during the incident. Would Overseer Liang's ledger show the assignment?"
It was a gamble. Overseer Liang of the Herb Garden was known to be meticulous, prideful, and fiercely protective of his domain's scheduling. He was also a crotchety old Foundation Establishment expert who hated the Duties Hall bureaucracy meddling with his tasks. The original Lin Feng had never had an assignment from him. But the Duties Hall disciple wouldn't know that. He would only know that contradicting Overseer Liang was a headache he didn't need for one insignificant disciple.
The disciple's sour expression deepened. He hated complications. He glanced between his ledger and Lin Feng's placid, waiting face. The story had just enough plausibility a lost slip, a bully interfering with another overseer's assigned labor to create doubt.
Karmic Opportunity Detected: Bureaucratic Subversion. Potential Yield: 1 Point.
The Ledger's prompt was a quiet confirmation.
With a grunt, the Duties Hall disciple dipped his brush in ink and made a swift notation. "Forget the latrines. A week in the Scriptorium. Dusting and organizing damaged scrolls. Report to Archivist Song. Now get out of my line."
Lin Feng bowed slightly. "Thank you, Senior Brother."
The Scriptorium. It was still manual labor, but it was indoors, dry, and involved handling low-grade spiritual texts and damaged manuals. The spiritual residue there would be faint, mixed, but not actively harmful. More importantly, it was information.
As he turned to leave, the familiar warmth bloomed in his chest.
Karmic Thread Altered. Minor System Subversion: Successful.
Karma Points Gained: +1.
Current Karma Balance: 3.
Three points. A fortune.
The Scriptorium annex was a dusty, quiet wing attached to the main library, which was reserved for inner disciples and above. Archivist Song was a wizened old man who seemed more parchment than person, peering at Lin Feng over spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
"Dust. Don't touch anything with intact seals. Damaged scrolls go on the cart for review. Don't ask questions." He pointed a bony finger toward a towering shelf labyrinth, shrouded in motes of dust dancing in the slanted light from high windows.
It was perfect. Lin Feng took a feather duster and a soft cloth and began. The work was mindless, which freed his mind to observe. He saw scrolls on basic herbology, fragmented treatises on low-level sword intents, damaged cultivation manuals for common elemental arts. Most were incomplete or faded, deemed not valuable enough for restoration, but not heretical enough to destroy.
After an hour, he found a small, water-damaged manual tucked behind a shelf. Its title was almost illegible: "...ight of the... eavens... Soul Nourishment... Technique." He carefully picked it up. It was a soul cultivation method, or a fragment of one. Soul cultivation was rare, advanced, and dangerous. For a lowly outer disciple, it was considered pointless you needed a strong soul to house strong power, but you needed strong power to protect and nourish a strong soul. A chicken-and-egg problem most solved by just focusing on their primary cultivation.
But to Lin Feng, it was fascinating. It was an alternative path, a different system. He gently opened it. The text was philosophical and dense, talking about "observing the inner cosmos" and "gathering the scattered light of consciousness." The practical instructions were vague and likely incomplete.
This was a perfect test subject.
He focused on the manual in his hands and willed the Ledger to analyze it.
Analysis Requested: Subject - Damaged Cultivation Manual.
Estimated Karma Cost: 2-4 Points. Proceed? Y/N
Lin Feng hesitated. Two to four points was a huge chunk of his capital. But knowledge was power, and alternative systems were the key to bypassing his limitations. He mentally confirmed.
The hollow sensation in his dantian returned, sharper this time. Two points vanished from his balance.
Analysis Complete.
Subject: "Fragment of the Starlight Soul Nourishment Technique."
Deconstruction:
[Concept: Soul Fortification] - Methodology: Partial (32% complete)
[Concept: Conscious Focus] - Methodology: Intact (85% complete)
[Concept: Astral Energy Attunement] - Methodology: Missing/Corrupted (0% complete)
Inter-Concept Conflict: The [Astral Energy Attunement] component is essential for safe energy intake. Its absence creates a 68% probability of Soul Scattering or Mental Phantasmia if practiced.
Salvageable Core: The [Conscious Focus] methodology is a viable, standalone mental exercise. Efficiency: Low. Risk: Minimal.
Conclusion: Manual is non-viable and dangerous in current state.
Potential Pathways:
Path 1 (Recommended): Isolate and practice [Concept: Conscious Focus] as a basic meditation technique. Can slightly improve mental clarity and sensory perception. Karma Cost for Isolation Guide: 1 Point.
Path 2: Seek complementary fragments to reconstruct [Astral Energy Attunement]. Probability of success: 2%.
Karma Cost of Analysis: 2 Points. Current Balance: 1.
Lin Feng let out a slow breath. The Ledger had just saved him from potentially crippling his mind. The original manual was a trap. But it had also identified a usable, if weak, piece.
He spent his last point.
Isolating [Concept: Conscious Focus] methodology...
A stream of clarified information, stripped of the flowery prose and dangerous omissions, flowed into his mind. It was a simple, repetitive technique of visualizing a single point of light in a dark mental space and holding focus on it, allowing all other thoughts to pass by without engagement. It was less about growing the soul and more about tidying it. Improving the signal-to-noise ratio of his own mind.
It was humble. It was safe. It was a start.
For the rest of his shift, as his hands mechanically dusted, Lin Feng practiced. In the quiet, dusty annex, he focused on that single point of mental light. At first, his mind crowded with fear, calculation, and the echoes of two lives rebelled. But slowly, the exercise began to work. The chaos didn't disappear, but it receded, becoming a murmur instead of a shout.
When the bell rang to end the work period, he felt a strange clarity. He was still physically weak, spiritually crippled, and at the bottom of a ruthless hierarchy. But for the first time since arriving, he felt a semblance of control. Not over the world, but over the instrument through which he experienced it: his own mind.
As he left the annex, Archivist Song grunted without looking up. "You're less clumsy than the last one. Back tomorrow."
It wasn't praise. It was continuity. It was a small, secure foothold.
Walking back to the dormitory in the fading twilight, Lin Feng's mind was no longer racing in panic. It was calculating. He had a stable, low-risk duty. He had a basic mental cultivation technique that required no spiritual affinity. He had a mysterious Ledger that, while expensive, provided absolute, potentially life-saving analysis.
And he had three pressing questions whose answers would determine his next move.
1. What was the most efficient way to generate Karma Points?
2. How could he repair his damaged meridians without attracting attention?
3. What was the first, smallest adjustment he could make to his "Miscellaneous Spiritual Roots" to create a positive feedback loop?
The mountain peaks above were shrouded in majestic, forbidding mist, home to powerful experts and ancient secrets. Lin Feng looked at them, then down at his own hands. The grand vistas could wait. His battlefield was here, in the dust, in the details, in the subtle subversion of a single day's expected outcome.
He had survived the first day. Now, he would begin to engineer the second.