With a steady supply of Spirit Stones secured through his arrangement with Old Feng via Hạnh, Lâm Minh's cultivation pace quickened noticeably.
Each night, he would meticulously absorb the energy from a high-quality stone, guiding the refined Qi through his meridians, strengthening his Dantian, and slowly chipping away at the seal on his Heaven Tier Spiritual Root.
[Cultivation Progress: Qi Refining Stage – Middle Phase (30% progress towards Major Completion).]
[Spiritual Root: Heaven Tier (Sealed – Stage 1/9 Unsealed). Progress to unseal Stage 2: 15%.]
[Qi Sense (Basic) improved: Range and sensitivity increased.]
[Qi Infusion (Minor) improved: Potency and duration of infusion slightly enhanced.]
The "Middle Phase" of Qi Refining.
He could feel the difference.
His body was lighter, stronger, more resilient.
His senses were incredibly sharp, picking up nuances in his environment that would have been invisible to him before.
When he infused his crowbar with Qi, it now hummed with a barely suppressed power, its metallic surface taking on a faint, almost imperceptible sheen.
He was still far from being a true threat to a Madakaros warrior, but against mundane humans, even trained soldiers, he was rapidly becoming a force to be reckoned with.
His "work" for Old Feng continued.
Twice a week, he'd deliver a sack of carefully selected, condensate-rich earth to Hạnh, who acted as the intermediary.
The quality of his finds remained high, and Old Feng's payments were prompt and generous.
Lâm Minh was slowly accumulating a small stash of credits and, more importantly, a growing reserve of Spirit Stones.
He was careful not to be too greedy, not to push his luck by trying to scavenge in overly dangerous or patrolled areas.
Slow and steady won the race, especially when the stakes were this high.
His relationship with Hạnh, Cường, and Tuấn also evolved.
They often worked together on the official debris clearance, and Hạnh would occasionally call on Lâm Minh for "side jobs" with Old Feng – usually simple protection details or deliveries that required discretion and a firm hand.
Lâm Minh's quiet competence, his almost preternatural calm under pressure, and his undeniable skill in a fight had earned their respect.
Cường's initial dismissiveness had transformed into a grudging admiration, while Tuấn, always more observant, seemed to view Lâm Minh with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
They were a tight-knit crew, forged in hardship, and Lâm Minh was slowly being accepted into their inner circle.
One evening, while sharing a meager meal of reconstituted protein paste and stale bread with Hạnh's crew in a relatively secure ruin after a long day, the conversation turned to a topic that made Lâm Minh's ears perk up.
"Heard some strange whispers from the Inner Wards," Cường said around a mouthful of paste, his voice low.
"Talk of… people with 'powers.' Not Madakaros. Humans."
Hạnh snorted. "Drunk talk, Cường. Or scare stories to keep kids in line. Humans can't do what those alien bastards do."
"I don't know, Hạnh," Tuấn interjected, his usually quiet voice thoughtful.
"The stories are… persistent. They say some folks, after near-death experiences near Madakaros tech or in those weird energy zones, come back… different. Stronger. Faster. Some even say they can… move things with their minds, or heal unnaturally quick."
Lâm Minh listened intently, keeping his expression neutral.
"Awakened" humans.
In his previous life, they had started to appear a few years later than this, around 2028 or 2029.
Rare individuals who, through freak accidents, exposure to alien energies, or extreme trauma, unlocked latent abilities.
Their powers were often erratic, uncontrolled, and far weaker than Madakaros cultivation, but they were a glimmer of hope, a sign that humanity wasn't entirely without its own unique potential.
The ASEAN military had eventually tried to recruit and train them, with mixed success.
"Sounds like bullshit to me," Cường grumbled, though he looked less certain now that Tuấn had spoken.
"If there were humans with powers, why ain't they out there kicking Madakaros ass?"
"Maybe they are, and we just don't know it," Tuấn mused.
"Or maybe they're scared. Or maybe the powers ain't that strong. The stories are just whispers, like I said."
Hạnh looked thoughtful.
"If it's true… it changes things. But for now, it's just rumors. Don't go getting any fancy ideas. Our best bet is still good old steel and a willingness to use it."
Lâm Minh remained silent, but his mind was racing.
If Awakened were already appearing, even in small numbers, it was earlier than he remembered.
This timeline was diverging in subtle ways.
Could his System-granted cultivation be considered a form of "awakening"?
Or was it something else entirely?
And what about his "Power Conferral" talent?
If he could ever activate it, could he create more Awakened, or even guide them onto a more structured path of cultivation?
The possibilities were tantalizing.
The conversation shifted to other topics, but the talk of Awakened humans lingered in Lâm Minh's mind.
He needed more information.
The Inner Wards, where the ASEAN government and military elite resided, would be the place to find it, but access was tightly restricted.
Meanwhile, his interactions, or lack thereof, with Tố Quyên at school had taken a subtle turn.
After his public dismantling of Khang, she no longer looked through him.
Her gaze would sometimes meet his across the crowded courtyard or classroom, and there was an undeniable curiosity in her eyes.
She never approached him, and neither did he.
The social chasm between them was still vast.
He was the quiet, somewhat intimidating boy from the slums who worked dangerous jobs; she was the popular, intelligent girl from a well-off family, destined for a top university or a position in a research institute.
However, one rainy afternoon, as school was dismissed, fate, or perhaps the System, intervened.
Lâm Minh was walking home, the collar of his worn jacket pulled up against the drizzle, when he saw Tố Quyên standing alone under the narrow awning of a closed shop, looking distressed.
Her usual entourage of friends was nowhere in sight. She was trying to make a call on her wrist-comm, her expression frustrated.
"Damn it," she muttered, tapping the device impatiently.
"No signal. And my transport is late, again."
Lâm Minh hesitated.
This was an opportunity.
A chance for a direct, natural interaction. He took a breath.
"Comm-net's been spotty in this sector all day," he said, his voice calm as he approached her.
"Atmospheric interference from the storm, probably."
Tố Quyên looked up, startled.
Her eyes widened slightly when she recognized him. "Oh. Uh, hi. Lâm Minh, right?"
He was surprised she knew his name. "Yes. And you're Tố Quyên."
A faint blush touched her cheeks. "You… you know my name?"
"It's a small school, despite its size," he said with a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "Is your transport usually reliable?"
"Not lately," she sighed, frustration evident in her voice.
"My father's driver has been… reassigned frequently. And with the comms down, I can't even reach him." She looked out at the rain, which was now coming down harder.
"I live in Sector 3. It's quite a walk from here, especially in this weather."
Sector 3. One of the more affluent residential sectors, closer to the Inner Wards.
Here was his chance. It was a risk.
Associating with her could draw unwanted attention from her family or social circle.
But the potential reward – establishing a connection – was too great.
"I'm heading towards Sector 5," Lâm Minh said, which was a slight lie; his apartment was in Sector 7, in the opposite direction, but Sector 5 was on the way to Sector 3.
"It's not all the way, but I can walk with you part of the distance if you like. The streets aren't always… friendly, especially when it gets dark."
Tố Quyên looked at him, surprised by the offer.
She hesitated.
He was still an enigma to her – the boy who'd calmly defeated Khang, who seemed to carry a quiet intensity.
But there was also something reassuring in his calm demeanor, a sense of capability.
And the thought of walking alone through the darkening, rain-slicked streets was unnerving.
"That's… very kind of you, Lâm Minh," she said finally. "Are you sure it's not out of your way?"
"Not at all," he lied smoothly. "Besides, an extra pair of eyes is always good."
And so, they began to walk, an unlikely pair under the grey, weeping sky.
The initial silence was a little awkward, filled only with the sound of the rain and their footsteps.
Lâm Minh didn't push conversation, letting her set the pace.
He was acutely aware of her presence beside him, the faint scent of her rain-dampened hair, the way she clutched her school bag.
It was Tố Quyên who spoke first. "So," she began, her voice a little hesitant, "that was… quite something, what you did to Khang the other day."
Lâm Minh glanced at her. "He was being a bully. Bullies need to be shown their place."
"He definitely learned his lesson," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "He hasn't bothered anyone since. How did you… you seemed so calm."
"Some things you just learn to deal with," Lâm Minh said vaguely. He didn't want to reveal too much about his "experience."
They talked more as they walked, simple, everyday topics at first – annoying teachers, difficult assignments, the general gloom of living in a besieged city.
Lâm Minh found Tố Quyên to be intelligent, articulate, and possessed of a sharp wit that was often hidden beneath her polite exterior.
She, in turn, seemed intrigued by his quiet confidence and the occasional surprising depth of his observations.
As they neared the boundary of Sector 5, Tố Quyên said, "Well, this is much further than I expected you to come. Thank you, Lâm Minh. Really."
"It was no trouble," he replied. The rain had eased slightly.
"I… I should be able to get a shuttle from here, or my father's driver might be waiting around this area," she said, sounding more confident now.
He nodded. "Be safe, Tố Quyên."
"You too, Lâm Minh." She gave him a small, genuine smile – the first he'd ever received from her.
"And… thanks again."
She turned and hurried off towards a more well-lit thoroughfare.
Lâm Minh watched her go, a strange warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with his Qi cultivation.
He had made a connection.
A small one, perhaps, but significant.
He then turned and began the long walk back to his own sector, a slight smile playing on his lips despite the rain.
The whispers of the Awakened, the growing strength within him, and now, this fragile, budding connection with Tố Quyên… the future was still uncertain, fraught with danger, but it was no longer a relentless, monochrome grey.
There were sparks of color, glimmers of hope, and Lâm Minh was determined to fan them into a raging fire.
His detour had been well worth it.