An old man sat inside a spacious hall.
He wore a heavy, solemn golden robe, embroidered with detailed patterns of mountains, clouds, and dragons that seemed almost alive under the soft light illuminating the room. His posture was straight and unmoving, legs crossed in the lotus position, hands resting naturally on his knees. He did not radiate any visible pressure, yet his mere presence inspired respect, as if the space itself had long grown accustomed to obeying him.
Before him lay an artificial lake.
The water was perfectly still, smooth as a mirror. Yet instead of reflecting the ceiling of the hall, its surface displayed moving scenes: children lined up in rows, disciples moving with discipline, platforms, halls, and stone paths. The entire outer base appeared there with absolute clarity, as though the old man were observing it from the heavens.
An omniscient watcher.
The old man let out a slow sigh.
There was no anger in it. Nor any obvious fatigue. It was impossible to tell what had prompted the gesture.
Behind him, a middle-aged man approached with measured steps. He wore formal robes and kept his head slightly lowered. When he spoke, his voice was respectful and restrained.
"Protector Meng," he said. "There is important information that must be reported to the sect."
The old man did not avert his gaze from the lake even for an instant.
"If this concerns the increased appearances of beasts that have fallen onto the demonic path," he replied calmly, "I have already been informed. The information was sent to the sect this morning."
The man halted, surprised by the response.
"Then…" he began, but stopped himself.
The old man continued watching the reflection in the water, where the children advanced slowly in their lines, his expression unchanged.
"Maintain vigilance," he added. "This matter is not over."
His voice was calm.
But final.
The man nodded silently, understanding there was nothing more to add, while the lake continued to reflect every movement within the base without missing a single detail.
When the middle-aged man withdrew from the hall, silence settled naturally once more.
The old man did not move.
He continued observing the lake for several seconds before speaking, without raising his voice or turning his head, as though he knew he was not alone.
"Have you found anything out of place in the mountain ranges… and beyond?" he asked calmly.
For a brief moment, there was no answer.
Then a voice emerged from the void—deep, distant, with no discernible source.
"No," it replied. "I have surveyed everything within thousands of kilometers. My spiritual sense detected nothing anomalous."
The old man narrowed his eyes slightly.
For the first time since he had been seated there, his impassive expression showed a faint trace of concern. It was subtle, restrained, but an attentive observer would have noticed.
"That is precisely what troubles me," he said quietly. "It is more dangerous to find nothing… than to have seen something."
The lake continued to display the scenes with perfect clarity. The children advanced in lines, disciples moved back and forth, and the outer base functioned normally, as if the world itself had no cracks.
"Without a doubt," the old man continued, "we are approaching chaotic times."
As he spoke, something in the reflection caught his attention.
His gaze sharpened.
He inclined his head slightly, focusing on a specific point within the lake. Curiosity surfaced first—subtle, controlled. A second later, that curiosity turned into genuine astonishment.
His fingers tensed faintly against his knee.
"Hmm…?" he murmured.
A man who appeared to be around thirty years old stood beside a large translucent crystal.
The crystal was anchored to a stone base and emitted a faint glow whenever it reacted. Before it, children stepped forward one by one, placing their hands on its surface under the supervision of several disciples.
The man was a deacon of the sect.
His posture was proper, his robes immaculate, and every movement followed established protocol. Yet beneath that professional exterior, he was clearly bored and tired. His eyes moved mechanically between the crystal and the children, without genuine interest.
So far, the crystal had reacted to eight children.
Nothing impressive.
Most possessed mortal meridians—barely acceptable. The kind of talent that, at best, allowed one to remain an outer disciple for a few years before fading into mediocrity. He had not seen a single case worthy of real attention.
The deacon let out a silent sigh.
"Another one…" he muttered.
As the next child placed his hand on the crystal, the man observed with a neutral expression, expecting absolutely nothing.
And, to be fair, he wasn't in a position to criticize much.
After all, he himself was forty-four years old and still stuck at the third level of Foundation Establishment. Respectable to some, but utterly ordinary within a major sect. Far removed from anything that could be called outstanding talent.
The crystal emitted a dull, faint glow.
Another mortal meridian.
The deacon nodded out of habit and raised his hand to signal that the child could leave, already thinking about how much longer his shift would last.
He examined the next child with little interest.
"Mortal meridians," he said flatly.
Beside him, a younger disciple nodded and recorded the result on a scroll before signaling the child to step away. The crystal dimmed once more, waiting for the next candidate.
The deacon raised his gaze.
And his body reacted before his mind could.
He froze completely for a fraction of a second, an uncomfortable sensation running down his spine. He couldn't explain why, but he had the impression of standing before something dangerous—as if a sharp blade were pointed at him without touching him. It was an instinctive reaction, absurd even, yet impossible to ignore.
The approaching child was slightly taller than average for his age. He had jet-black hair, long and well kept, and walked with uncommon stability—neither hurried nor hesitant. Each step was firm and grounded, as though his body followed a rhythm repeated countless times. His posture was straight without stiffness, natural, and his presence felt strangely heavy for someone so young.
The boy's face showed no emotion. There was no nervousness, no curiosity—only cold, restrained calm. His straight brows gave him a severe appearance, and his gaze was direct, unflinching.
When the deacon met his eyes, he looked away almost immediately.
They were black—too deep. In that brief moment of eye contact, he felt a sharp pain in his head, like a clear warning from his spiritual sense. If he continued looking, he was certain something would go wrong.
He swallowed and forced himself to regain composure, clenching his fingers inside his sleeve to hide the tension.
"Place your hand on the crystal," he said at last, keeping his voice steady despite the lingering discomfort.
The boy obeyed without a word.
Wei was irritated.
It wasn't an emotion he usually allowed himself, yet there it was—clear and persistent. Jin had been taken away, leaving him responsible for Elder He's granddaughter. At some point, as the area filled with children and order dissolved into chaos, the crowd had separated them. Wei saw Jin being led away with another group, and when he tried to grab Xiao Lian to keep her from being lost, he discovered that, for some reason, she was no longer beside him.
After that, events unfolded too quickly for him to react.
Disciples giving orders. Lines forming. Light but constant shoving. Voices that explained nothing. Wei moved with the flow, observing and memorizing without intervening, until he finally found himself before an examiner and an object he had not seen before.
A crystal.
Wei did not understand exactly what was happening. He did not know where Jin was. He did not know what had become of Xiao Lian. And for the first time since arriving in that world, he was completely alone in an unfamiliar place. The one person who seemed to understand how things worked was no longer there.
That irritated him.
Even so, his face showed nothing.
In the absence of information, he chose the only reasonable course: follow the rules. Do not interfere. Do not draw unnecessary attention. Wait.
When he raised his eyes toward the examiner, for some reason the man looked away almost immediately. He then gestured for Wei to place his hand on the crystal.
Wei did not hesitate.
He stepped forward, extended his arm naturally, and rested his palm against the crystal's cold surface, keeping his body relaxed and his mind quiet, prepared to accept whatever the object intended to reveal.
The instant Wei's palm touched the crystal, everything reacted.
The examiner felt it first. The crystal—which until then had glowed in a dull, controlled manner—suddenly released an intense light, so bright that those nearby were forced to shut their eyes at once. Several children let out startled cries and covered their faces, stepping back on instinct.
The disciple recording the results dropped the scroll. The brush rolled across the ground without him noticing.
"What…?" someone murmured in the crowd.
The deacon staggered back, blinded by the radiance, raising an arm to shield his face. His composure shattered completely.
"I–i–impossible!" he shouted without thinking, his voice breaking with disbelief.
The crystal vibrated violently. A deep hum spread through the area, making the air tremble as if something were about to break from within.
Far away, in the silent hall, the old man in golden robes opened his eyes.
For the first time since taking his seat before the lake, his serene expression cracked. The water's surface reflected the explosion of light with absolute clarity, forcing him to narrow his eyes.
Even he had been caught off guard.
In the surrounding void, the voice manifested again, this time clearly shaken.
"Protector… the crystal is about to explode."
The old man did not answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the reflection, where the light was growing out of control around the boy's figure. In the next instant, he reacted. His hand moved swiftly, tracing a simple gesture imbued with authority.
And at that very moment, something happened below.
Wei reacted on pure instinct.
As soon as the radiance became unbearable, he raised his free arm and covered his face, closing his eyes as heat and pressure enveloped him. He didn't understand what was happening or what he had done differently from the others. He only knew that something had gone completely out of control.
At that instant, when no one in the plaza could see clearly, something occurred beside the crystal.
Invisible hands appeared on either side—firm and precise, as if gripping space itself. The light began to compress under that silent force, folding inward. The vibration gradually subsided until it vanished, and the intense glow was contained, smothered before the crystal could shatter.
Everything happened within seconds.
When the radiance extinguished completely, the area fell into an uncanny silence. No one knew exactly what had occurred. The children looked around with pale faces, the disciples exchanged tense glances, and the crystal remained intact—though dimmed and covered with fine, barely visible cracks.
Wei lowered his arm slowly.
He frowned, confused, and looked at the crystal, not understanding why everyone was staring at him as if he had committed some unforgivable crime.
The deacon stood frozen, body rigid and gaze unfocused. Suddenly, he jolted violently, as if a voice had echoed directly inside his head. He blinked several times, took a deep breath, and nodded repeatedly, still nervous.
"Yes… yes… understood…" he muttered to himself.
Without offering any explanation, he abruptly bent down, picked up the scroll the disciple had dropped, and pressed it to his chest. Then he turned and hurried away, almost fleeing, leaving the area without looking back.
The disciple assisting him remained there, holding the brush midair, utterly confused and unsure of what to do next.
Wei stood before the crystal in silence, with the clear sense that—without meaning to—he had just drawn attention to himself.
When everything returned to normal in the lake's reflection, Protector Meng slowly lowered his arm.
He remained seated in silence, gaze fixed on the water's surface. At first glance his expression was calm, but anyone who knew him would have noticed that he was thinking deeply. He did not move for several seconds, as if reorganizing information that did not align with what he had expected to find.
The voice in the void spoke again, this time restrained, almost incredulous.
"Protector Meng… the quality of his meridians… I have never seen anything like it in person."
The old man closed his eyes for a moment and released a slow sigh. This time it was not surprise, but weariness.
"I know," he replied calmly. "Under normal circumstances, this would be cause for celebration within the sect."
He opened his eyes again, his gaze turning more severe.
"But in times like these," he continued, "what concerns me most is not his meridians, but what will happen when they test his spiritual root. If something goes wrong at that stage, not even I will be able to suppress it."
As he spoke, he extended his hand and retrieved a jade token from his storage ring. It was small, pale green, with ancient inscriptions carved into its surface. He studied it for several seconds, as if weighing the decision he was about to make.
"I suppose there is no alternative," he said at last. "I will have to notify him to come in person."
He put the jade away.
The hall fell silent once more—heavy, absolute—as if nothing extraordinary had taken place.
Far from that place, Jin stood in his line.
From where he was, all he had seen was an intense flash of light that illuminated the entire area for a few breaths. It was brief, but striking enough to leave everyone silent for several seconds.
Jin frowned slightly.
"Well…" he thought. "Which poor bastard triggered something like that?"
The line advanced one step.
Jin straightened his back and stopped drifting. It was almost his turn to be examined.