Dawn broke over the Jin Clan compound, washing the world in hues of grey and soft pearl. The rain had passed, leaving the air clean and sharp with the scent of wet earth and pine. For the first time, Jin Mu did not dread the morning bell that signaled the start of another day of thankless labor.
When he stepped out of his shack, the world assaulted him.
It was no longer just a collection of shapes and sounds. It was a living, breathing tapestry of sensations. Through the Art of Silent Shadow, he could feel the sluggish pulse of a sleeping earthworm deep beneath the mud. He could sense the fine, almost invisible threads of Qi that flowed from the main disciples as they began their morning breathing exercises, a gentle thrum in the air. He could even perceive the faint, lingering traces of emotion left in the courtyard—the bitter spike of fear where Jin Wei had fled, the oily residue of arrogance near the gate where his cronies had laughed.
His world had gained a new, terrifying, and exhilarating dimension.
…Be the stone in the river. Let the currents flow around you. Observe, but do not be swept away. This awareness is a weapon. Learn its weight before you try to swing it.… Heaven's Lament's voice was a cool anchor in the sensory storm.
Heeding the advice, Jin Mu lowered his head, his posture as submissive as ever, and went about his duties. He hauled buckets of clean water from the well, his movements slow and deliberate. As disciples passed, he no longer just saw their disdainful expressions; he felt the contempt radiating from them like a foul heat. He felt the cold indifference of the stewards and the weary resignation of the other servants. It was a map of the clan's emotional landscape, and he was at its very bottom.
His new perception was a double-edged sword. It laid bare the ugliness of his existence, yet it also gave him an unprecedented advantage: knowledge.
Later that morning, he was tasked with sweeping the fallen leaves from the stone pathways around a secluded training hall reserved for senior instructors. It was a quiet, isolated place. As he worked, his broom whispering against the wet stone, his senses suddenly sharpened.
He felt three presences approaching from behind a decorative rock garden. They were not trying to be quiet, but to his new senses, their every footstep, every rustle of cloth, was a clear signal. One presence was stronger, its internal energy—its Qi—a steady, disciplined flame. The other two were weaker, flickering with agitation and confusion. He recognized their emotional signatures instantly: they were the two disciples who had been with Jin Wei.
Instinct, honed by years of avoiding trouble, took over. Jin Mu didn't run or hide. He simply became smaller. He moved to the edge of the path, near the damp wall of the hall, and continued sweeping, his movements becoming slower, more methodical. He embraced the stillness inside him, making his own presence as unremarkable as a weathered stone.
"I'm telling you, Instructor Kuan, he's not the same," one of the disciples said, his voice a low, urgent murmur. They had stopped just around the corner, hidden from sight but perfectly clear to Jin Mu's senses. "Young Master Wei hasn't left his room for two days. He just sits there, staring at the wall. He says he keeps… seeing an abyss."
"Soul-sickness," a deeper, gravelly voice replied. Instructor Kuan. A man known for his harsh training methods and unforgiving nature. "Something struck his martial heart. You say it happened when he tried to discipline the trash boy, Jin Mu?"
"Yes! He just tapped him with the practice sword, and then… it was like his spirit collapsed. But that's impossible! Jin Mu is a useless mortal with a sealed Gate. He has no Qi, no power. How could he do anything?"
There was a long pause. Jin Mu held his breath, becoming one with the cold stone at his back. He could feel Instructor Kuan's aura shift from simple curiosity to a focused, analytical coldness.
"A sealed Gate…" the instructor mused, his voice dangerously soft. "You boys are young. You only know what you're told. You assume his Gate was sealed by a cruel twist of fate at birth. That is the story the clan tells."
"It's… not true?"
"The truth is more complicated. I was a junior guard when his parents were… dealt with. The boy's potential was deemed a threat. His Gate wasn't sealed by nature. It was sealed by a technique known as the Crippled Meridian Seal."
The world under Jin Mu's feet seemed to dissolve. The broom slipped from his numb fingers, clattering softly against the stone. It was a small sound, but in the silence, it was as loud as a thunderclap.
Instantly, the three presences went on high alert. "Who's there?" Instructor Kuan barked.
But Jin Mu was already gone. In the split second he heard the broom fall, instinct and his new awareness had merged. He didn't think. He simply moved, melting back along the wall and into the shadows of a nearby alcove, his body as silent as the energy he now cultivated.
Instructor Kuan and the two disciples rounded the corner to find only a fallen broom and a pile of wet leaves. They scanned the area, their eyes passing right over the alcove where Jin Mu stood, his heart a silent drum against his ribs. To them, he was just a deeper shadow in a place already dark. After a tense moment, they dismissed the sound as the wind and walked away, their conversation turning to hushed warnings about spreading rumors.
Jin Mu remained in the shadows long after they were gone, his mind reeling.
Sealed. Not born this way. Sealed.
The word was a brand of fire on his soul. His entire life, the foundation of his identity as "Nothingness," was a lie. He wasn't a mistake of nature. He was a product of a conspiracy. He had been intentionally crippled, caged, and left to rot.
A cold, quiet fire, far more potent than any fleeting rage, began to burn in the pit of his stomach. His despair, the very thing that had awakened Heaven's Lament, was now transmuting into something else. Something harder. Sharper.
…Sorrow is often born from betrayal,… the ancient voice stated in his mind, a simple, profound truth. …And betrayal demands a reckoning.…
"Tell me," Jin Mu whispered to the voice in his soul, his voice shaking with a controlled, nascent fury. "Tell me how to get stronger."