Morning mist clung to the slopes of Green Cloud Mountain, curling between pines and old rocks. Far away, bells tolled from the higher ridges, marking the beginning of another day of tillage.
Down below, at the bottommost and most abandoned peak of the sect, one boy carried two buckets of water up a mossy trail. His breathing was steady but light, the way so well practiced that his feet moved without thought.
His name was Li Tian — outer disciple of the Green Cloud Sect, sixteen years old, and best known for his untalent.
Where others found it a snap to concentrate the Qi into their meridians, his inner roots were uncooperative, his pace of advancement leaden. Three years in the sect went by, and he was still not even at the first level of the Body Refining Realm.
But he never complained.
Every morning, early enough not to disturb the other disciples, he would rise to get water from the mountain spring, sweep the training grounds, and take care of the vegetable plots behind the dormitories. For this, he received small offerings and, more significantly, a quiet space to contemplate.
And as he ascended, the warbles of birds mingled with the splashes of far-off waterfalls. The higher mountains shone dimly through the mist — abodes of inner disciples, where real cultivators honed their crafts and used spiritual weapons.
Li Tian glanced at them only fleetingly. He was wise enough not to covet what he could not yet attain.
For after all, one was born talented. And his, as the old people were in the habit of pointing out, was as dull as a rock.
When he came to the spring, he placed the buckets on the edge of the water and sat on a flat rock. The atmosphere was cool, the water's surface clear enough to mirror his weary face — quiet eyes, unremarkable features, and hair tightly tied with a simple cord.
He stuck his hand into the water, feeling the cool lap at his fingertips. It was then that he noticed something strange: a faint glow beneath the surface.
At first, he thought it was sun shining through the waves. But as he leaned in further, he saw it — a piece of rock half-buried beneath the rocks, its edge worn with weathered symbols.
He hesitated. Reason defeated by curiosity, he rolled up his sleeve and inserted his hand.
The stone weighed heavy, unnaturally so. When he pulled it out, the symbols along its length caught light and appeared to ripple with a soft, un-earthly glow, as if they were reflecting something not visible.
It wasn't a spirit jade or a storage charm — he had handled both before. This was older, more weathered, but somehow. alive.
Li Tian turned it in the curve of his hand, tracing the shallow engraving. The patterns were meaningless — circles inside lines, distorted curves like water and wind flowing. There was no movement of Qi, no external energy, but he couldn't avert his gaze.
He glanced to the distant peaks. If he turned it in, the elders would claim it immediately. Outer disciples didn't usually keep what they found.
And in any event, perhaps it was nothing more than a strange stone.
A small, guilty smile, Li Tian stowed the stone in his satchel and took hold of the buckets. Morning work would not get done on its own, and even if his discovery amounted to nothing… it made today a little less ordinary.
As he went down the trail, the mist slowly thinned. The rock light in his pack gleamed once — soft, muted, and unnoticed.