Jiang Yi woke before the first rays of dawn, the physical torment of hunger overriding any natural inclination to sleep. The scraps he had eaten the night before—a bowl of sour millet porridge—had been instantly consumed by the swirling pool of azure Qi in his dantian.
It was more than just hunger; it was a desperate, burning void demanding fuel. It was the frantic craving of a newly awakened engine that required high-octane spirit energy, not wood scraps.
The ordinary food will kill me if I rely on it, he realized, rubbing the faint, scarred mark on his palm. The Azure Qi refines everything, but it demands far more input than a normal Body Tempering disciple.
He needed Spirit Stones, pieces of crystallized Heaven and Earth Qi that cultivators used to boost their progress. But an outer disciple received perhaps one low-grade stone a week. A servant received none.
The only place where a pauper might trade for such a treasure was the secret servant exchange, known ominously as the "Black Market."
The Black Market wasn't a place, but a time. Every third night, a loose collective of servants, cooks, and stable hands met in the secluded, overgrown ruins of an old temple near the sect's perimeter fence to trade goods, rumors, and stolen artifacts. Tonight was that night.
Jiang Yi waited until the main barracks lights were extinguished. The enhanced hearing granted by his breakthrough picked up the rhythmic, snorting snores of Steward Ma a hundred paces away. He moved.
His body was silent. His movements were fluid. The change was astonishing. Before, every step had been a clumsy shuffle; now, his feet seemed to glide, instinctively avoiding loose stones and damp patches.
The ruined temple sat within a small, dense thicket. When he arrived, the air was thick with the scent of cheap incense and desperation. Figures huddled under weak lantern light, haggling over pouches of dry tea leaves, old medicinal herbs, or pieces of rusted bronze.
Jiang Yi approached a small, wizened man named Old Lin, who dealt in information and secrets.
"Lin-ge," Jiang Yi greeted him softly.
Old Lin squinted at him through the gloom. "Jiang Yi? You look… clean. Lost the smell of the slop pit?"
"I was thorough today," Jiang Yi replied, sticking to his persona. "I need something. Something to trade."
He reached into his inner pocket and produced a small, tarnished silver coin—a family heirloom, the only thing of value his mother had given him. He had sworn never to part with it, but now he understood that survival was the only true treasure.
"It's real silver, untouched by the sect," he said, pushing it across the cracked stone slab.
Old Lin's eyes widened momentarily at the flash of metal. "For what? A month's supply of preserved meat?"
"No," Jiang Yi said, lowering his voice until it was barely a breath. "A manual. Anything below the Body Tempering level. Something minor. A movement technique."
Old Lin studied him, sensing the raw hunger beneath the boy's polite facade. He reached beneath his cloak and pulled out a tightly rolled piece of thick, oiled parchment, secured with a frayed thread.
"This is the 'Spider Step.' A low-grade movement skill. It allows a mortal to mimic the light feet of a cultivator. For you, it's useless, but for a guard, it might make the difference between a bonus and a beating. It's worth three of those coins, boy."
Jiang Yi held the coin steady. "The sect burns waste like me. If I get caught with this, it's death. This silver is everything I have. Take it. You won't see me again for a long time."
Old Lin sighed, a flicker of pity perhaps, or just shrewd business sense. He snatched the coin and tossed the scroll to Jiang Yi. "Don't open it near a fire. The ink is old."
Jiang Yi retreated to the shadow of a crumbling wall. He broke the thread and unrolled the parchment. The script was simple, detailing how to subtly shift weight and use minor bursts of internal strength to enhance speed.
He closed his eyes and began to circulate the azure Qi to the instruction's specifications.
The Qi flowed instantly. The meridians were open, the energy pure. He didn't just understand the technique; he mastered it in the span of thirty breaths.
The parchment described a four-step movement cycle. Jiang Yi tried it.
Whoosh.
He took one step, and he wasn't there anymore. He was ten feet away, silent as a whisper, his body vibrating with controlled momentum.
This was the power of the sphere's refinement. The Qi it created was so pure that any technique, no matter how complex, became intuitive and flawless.
A low-grade scroll, executed with high-grade Qi, he thought, a cold smile touching his lips. He rolled the scroll back up. The knowledge was his now.
As he moved to leave, his newly enhanced hearing picked up a hushed conversation from a dark corner of the temple.
"...The old man hid it well. In the North Tower, Level Seven."
"...But Elder Fang sealed that entire wing ten years ago! It's still under the barrier."
"A temporary seal, fool! It wears off on the night of the full moon. That's tomorrow. It's a low-grade Qi-Gathering formation blueprint. Too valuable for an outer disciple to claim. If a servant gets it first, they can trade it for a fortune in the city.
Qi-Gathering Formation Blueprint. A single one could fetch enough Spirit Stones to feed his core for a month.
Jiang Yi's hunger was a physical scream in his body, but the thought of this prize was a stronger drive. The North Tower was restricted territory. Elder Fang's sealed wing was practically a death trap.
But tomorrow night, the seal would weaken.
He looked down at the black mark on his palm, which now pulsed faintly with hunger, and then looked up at the looming shadow of the Azure Cloud Sect's North Tower.
I have the Spider Step now. I have speed.
I'm still a servant, but tonight, the waste learned how to move.