The second harvest came and went under Overseer Lu's iron grip.
Jin worked his field with mechanical precision, his level three cultivation allowing him to meet the increased quotas that would have crushed him a year ago. The spirit rice fell in neat rows, the grains heavy with refined spiritual energy, the yield numbers safely within acceptable ranges. He kept his head down, his mouth shut, and his attention focused on survival.
Others were not so fortunate.
Overseer Lu had developed a pattern that everyone on Terrace Seven came to dread. Each morning, he would walk the fields with his pale, colorless eyes cataloging every imperfection. Each afternoon, he would summon the disciples who had disappointed him to the central pavilion for "corrective guidance." Each evening, he would retire to a shaded pavilion near the overseer's quarters, where he would drink expensive tea and watch the disciples work the late shift with the satisfied expression of a man who enjoyed his power.
And always, always, his gaze would find Luo Qiang.
"He's getting bolder," Lin Mei whispered to Jin one evening, as they returned their tools to the storage shed. "Yesterday he made her serve his tea while he inspected her field reports. Made her stand there for two hours while he criticized every character of her handwriting."
Jin said nothing. He'd learned that silence was safer than speech under the new regime.
"She's barely sleeping," Lin Mei continued, her gossip-loving nature now serving a grimmer purpose. "Fan says she practices her techniques until midnight, trying to squeeze every possible grain of yield from her field. It won't be enough. Lu has set her quota so high that even Da Feng couldn't meet it."
The situation felt hopeless. Luo Qiang was trapped in a cage of impossible demands, and everyone knew what would happen when she finally failed to meet them. Lu would use her failure as justification for whatever he'd been planning since he first noticed her.
But Jin was beginning to notice something else.
Da Feng had changed.
The massive, scarred man still worked his field with the same stoic efficiency he'd always displayed. His harvests remained excellent, his quotas met without apparent strain. To casual observation, nothing about him was different.
But Jin's cultivation had sharpened his senses over the past year. He noticed things now that he would have missed before. The way Da Feng's eyes tracked Overseer Lu's movements whenever the man appeared on the terrace. The subtle tension in his massive shoulders that never fully relaxed. The quiet conversations he had with Luo Qiang in the early mornings, before Lu's surveillance began.
Number one and number two were planning something.
Jin kept this observation to himself.
—————
The corruption became apparent during the harvest tallying.
Each disciple's yield was carefully weighed and measured, the results recorded on jade slips that determined everything from ration allocations to cultivation resource access. Under Overseer Huang's administration, the process had been strict but fair—every grain accounted for, every number verified.
Under Overseer Lu, the numbers didn't add up.
"My yield was 847 jin," Fan whispered to Jin one evening, his nervous twitch more pronounced than ever. "I measured it myself before the collection team arrived. But the official record says 762 jin. That's almost a hundred jin missing."
Jin had noticed similar discrepancies in his own harvest. Small amounts, easily attributed to measurement variance or handling losses if one didn't look too closely. But when he began quietly asking other disciples about their tallies, a pattern emerged.
Everyone was short. And the shortfall always benefited Overseer Lu.
"He's taking a portion of every harvest for himself," Lin Mei said, her voice barely audible despite the privacy of the dormitory. "Selling it on the side, probably. Spirit rice fetches good prices in the mortal markets, and the amounts are small enough that no individual disciple can prove anything."
"Someone could report him to Elder Feng," Jin suggested.
Lin Mei's laugh was bitter. "Report what? That our overseer might be skimming a few percentage points from our harvests? Elder Feng appointed Lu personally. Any complaint would be buried, and the complainer would be marked as a troublemaker." She shook her head. "This is how the sect works, Jin. Those with power take what they want, and those without power learn to live with less."
It was the same lesson Jin had heard from Fan, from Old Shen, from everyone who had survived long enough to understand the cultivation world's fundamental truths. Power determined everything. Justice was a luxury for those strong enough to enforce it.
But Jin was also learning that power took many forms.
—————
The evening it happened, Jin was working late in his field.
The second harvest was complete, but the preparation for the third season's planting required constant attention. Soil needed to be turned, water channels cleaned, energy patterns refreshed. Jin had developed a rhythm that maximized his efficiency—working until the last light faded, cultivating until exhaustion claimed him, rising before dawn to begin again.
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 85%]
The tracker pulsed steadily in his awareness as he applied the Earth Drill technique to a stubborn section of compacted soil. His level three cultivation made the work easier than it had been, but still demanding. Each manipulation of the earth drew on his qi reserves, requiring careful management to avoid exhausting himself before the day's work was done.
He was so focused on his task that he almost missed the scream.
It came from the direction of the overseer's pavilion—a high, sharp sound that cut through the evening air like a blade. Jin's head snapped up, his enhanced senses automatically scanning for the source.
More screams followed. And then shouting, the sounds of confusion and alarm, the rapid footsteps of disciples running toward something.
Jin abandoned his work and moved toward the commotion.
The overseer's pavilion was a small but elegant structure near the terrace's administrative buildings. It had a curved roof of dark tiles, walls of polished wood, and a covered porch where Lu liked to sit in the evenings, drinking his tea and surveying his domain. Tonight, the porch was chaos.
Overseer Lu lay on the ground, his body writhing, his face contorted in agony. His pale gray eyes were wide with pain and terror, his mouth open in continuous screams that seemed to tear themselves from his throat. One hand clutched at his leg, where his robe had been torn away to reveal flesh that was already swelling and discoloring.
A snake lay dead nearby—killed, apparently, by one of the guards who now stood over it with a bloodied blade.
Jin had never seen a serpent like it.
The creature was perhaps three feet long, its scales a deep emerald green that seemed to shimmer with inner light even in death. Its head was triangular, broader than its body, with fangs that were still visible in its gaping mouth—curved, translucent needles that glistened with venom. Along its spine ran a pattern of golden diamonds that pulsed faintly with residual spiritual energy.
A spirit beast. A poisonous one.
"Get the physician!" someone was shouting. "He needs treatment immediately!"
Jin stood at the edge of the gathering crowd, watching as sect medical personnel arrived and began working on the stricken overseer. Lu's screams had faded to whimpers, his body still convulsing but with less violence than before. The swelling in his leg had spread, the discolored flesh now reaching nearly to his hip.
"Jade Viper," a voice said beside him.
Jin turned to find Old Shen watching the scene with an expression of carefully neutral interest.
"What?"
"The snake. It's called a Jade Viper." Old Shen's weathered face revealed nothing. "Rare creature. Lives in the deep forests beyond the sect's territory. Almost never seen in cultivated areas." He paused. "Very strange that one would find its way into an overseer's pavilion."
Jin looked at the old man, really looked at him, and saw something in those aged eyes that he'd never noticed before. Calculation. Satisfaction. The quiet pleasure of someone watching an enemy suffer.
"How did it get here?" Jin asked carefully.
"Who can say? The world is full of mysteries." Old Shen's gaze drifted across the crowd, lingering for just a moment on two figures standing near the back—Da Feng's massive form, and beside him, Luo Qiang's severe features. "Perhaps the snake was simply hungry and wandered in looking for food. Perhaps it was attracted by the warmth of the tea. Perhaps…" He shrugged. "Perhaps fate has its own sense of justice."
The medical team had loaded Lu onto a stretcher and was carrying him away toward the healing halls. His body had gone limp, either from the venom's effects or from whatever treatment the physicians had administered. The crowd began to disperse, disciples returning to their evening routines with the careful blankness of people who had learned not to ask too many questions.
Jin remained where he was, thinking.
The snake had been in Lu's pouch—he'd heard someone mention it to the guards. The same pouch where Lu kept his personal effects. His stolen harvest records. His jade slips and talismans and whatever else a corrupt overseer might carry with him.
A pouch that someone would need access to in order to place a venomous snake inside.
His gaze found Da Feng and Luo Qiang again. They were walking away from the scene together, their movements unhurried, their conversation apparently casual. Nothing about them suggested guilt or satisfaction or anything other than two colleagues heading home after a long day.
But Jin remembered Da Feng's watchful eyes. Luo Qiang's desperate defiance. The quiet conversations they'd shared in the early mornings.
Number one and number two had solved their problem.
—————
"Jade Viper venom attacks the meridians," Lin Mei explained the following day, her voice barely containing her glee. "It disrupts qi flow throughout the body, causing intense pain and temporary paralysis. The damage isn't permanent if treated quickly, but recovery takes…"
"A year," Jin finished. "I heard."
The news had spread through the terrace like wildfire. Overseer Lu would survive, but he required at least twelve months of intensive treatment before he could resume his duties. In the meantime, a temporary supervisor had been appointed—a bland-faced woman from the administrative division who seemed content to maintain existing quotas without adding new ones.
The reign of terror was over. At least for now.
"Do you think it was really an accident?" Lin Mei asked, her eyes bright with speculation.
Jin considered his answer carefully. "Jade Vipers live in the deep forests. How would one find its way into an overseer's pouch?"
"Exactly." Lin Mei's grin was knowing. "But who could have done it? Lu's pavilion was guarded. His pouch never left his person. Even if someone wanted to harm him, they'd need access that no ordinary disciple has."
"Maybe someone with exceptional field skills," Jin said slowly. "Someone who knows how to handle creatures. Someone who works closely with the land and everything that lives in it."
Lin Mei's grin faded into something more serious. "You're thinking of Da Feng."
"I'm thinking that our terrace has two disciples with the highest ratings in the agricultural division. One of them raises spirit creatures as a secondary specialty. The other was being systematically targeted by the person who just happened to be bitten by an extremely rare venomous snake."
They sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the implications.
"If you're right," Lin Mei said finally, "then they planned this together. Number one and number two, working as a team. Da Feng providing the means, Luo Qiang providing the motive and probably the access."
"Lu was obsessed with her," Jin agreed. "He watched her constantly. Made her serve his tea, stand beside him during inspections. He probably never even noticed when she slipped something into his pouch."
"That's…" Lin Mei shook her head. "That's brilliant. And terrifying. They took down a Foundation Establishment overseer with a snake. No direct confrontation, no evidence, no witnesses. Just patience and planning and opportunity."
Jin thought about this for a long time after Lin Mei left.
He'd spent a year focusing on his personal cultivation, believing that advancement was the key to everything. Get stronger. Get faster. Get better. The efficiency tracker had reinforced this belief, showing him concrete numbers that represented his progress toward power.
But Da Feng and Luo Qiang had taught him something different.
They were both mid-level Qi Gathering disciples—stronger than Jin, certainly, but nothing compared to a Foundation Establishment overseer like Lu. In a direct confrontation, Lu could have destroyed them both without breaking a sweat. His cultivation was simply too far above theirs.
Yet they had won.
Not through strength, but through intelligence. Not through power, but through patience. They had identified their enemy's vulnerabilities, developed a plan that required no direct confrontation, and executed it with precision that left no evidence of their involvement.
Realm wasn't everything.
The insight felt profound, reshaping Jin's understanding of the cultivation world. He'd been so focused on climbing the ladder of power that he'd forgotten there were other paths to victory. Other tools besides raw strength.
Cleverness. Patience. Alliances. Timing.
These were weapons too, available even to those without overwhelming cultivation.
Jin resolved to remember this lesson.
—————
Time flowed like water through a well-maintained irrigation channel—steady, purposeful, carrying everything forward toward an inevitable destination.
The third season passed. The fourth. The temporary overseer maintained her bland competence, enforcing quotas without cruelty, allowing the disciples of Terrace Seven to breathe again. The community began to heal, slowly, the fractures of Lu's regime mending as trust rebuilt itself one interaction at a time.
Jin worked. Jin cultivated. Jin improved.
His efficiency climbed steadily—86%, 87%, 88%. Each percentage point represented hours of careful optimization, tiny adjustments to breathing patterns and circulation routes that accumulated into meaningful progress. His cultivation technique felt less like a learned skill now and more like a fundamental part of himself, as natural as his heartbeat.
The seasons turned. Spring planting became summer growth became autumn harvest became winter preparation. The cycle repeated, each iteration teaching Jin something new about the land, the crops, the endless dance between cultivator and cultivation.
He sent letters home when he could afford them, enclosing whatever spirit stones he'd managed to save. His brother's responses were brief but warm, describing the small improvements in the family's circumstances that Jin's contributions had enabled. A new plow. A repaired roof. Medicine for their father's recurring illness.
The guilt of absence mixed with the pride of providing.
Old Shen continued his pranks, though they grew gentler as Jin proved himself capable of retaliation. Lin Mei continued her gossip, an endless stream of information about the sect's politics, personalities, and petty dramas. Da Feng and Luo Qiang continued their quiet partnership, their reputations enhanced by survival through adversity.
And Jin continued to grow.
—————
The breakthrough came one month before the fifth harvest—the end of his second year in the Dark Rose Sect.
Jin sat in his usual cultivation position, legs crossed on his meditation mat, breath flowing in the optimized pattern he'd developed over countless hours of practice. The efficiency tracker pulsed:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 90%]
Ninety percent. The highest he'd ever achieved. And tonight, it felt like something more.
The bottleneck had been building for weeks—that familiar pressure at the edges of his consciousness, the sense of a door waiting to be opened. He'd felt it before each previous breakthrough, learned to recognize it as a sign that his cultivation was ready to advance.
But this time was different. The pressure was stronger, more insistent. His qi reserves strained against the limits of his current level like water pressing against a dam.
Jin focused inward, following the circulation route that had become second nature. His refined qi moved through his meridians in smooth, practiced flows, gathering in his dantian before dispersing outward again. The cycle repeated, each iteration building pressure, building power, building toward—
Something cracked.
Not physically—the sensation was entirely internal, felt rather than heard. But it was unmistakable. A barrier that had seemed solid simply… yielded. Shattered. Dissolved into nothing, allowing his cultivation to surge forward into territory it had never touched before.
Level four Qi Gathering.
Jin opened his eyes, gasping slightly from the intensity of the experience. His body felt different—stronger, more refined, as if every cell had been subtly improved by the advancement. His senses had sharpened again, the world around him coming into clearer focus than ever before.
He flexed his hands, marveling at the increased responsiveness. Extended his spiritual perception, surprised by how much farther it could reach. Circulated his qi, delighted by the smoother, more powerful flow through his expanded meridians.
Two years. Four breakthroughs.
The speed was remarkable, he knew. Most disciples took three to five years to reach level four, if they reached it at all. His efficiency tracker had made the difference—showing him exactly how to optimize his cultivation, guiding his improvements with mathematical precision that no intuition alone could match.
But he'd also worked for it. Every morning. Every evening. Every moment of spare time devoted to advancement. The efficiency tracker was a tool, but tools required wielders. His progress was as much about dedication as it was about his mysterious advantage.
Jin lay back on his bed, exhausted but satisfied.
Level four. The halfway point of Qi Gathering, the stage where disciples began to be taken seriously by the sect hierarchy. He was no longer a barely-noticed beginner but a cultivator of genuine standing.
Tomorrow he would test his new capabilities in the field. Tonight, he would rest and let his body adjust to its elevated state.
The efficiency tracker pulsed one final time before sleep claimed him:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 90%]
Ninety percent efficiency. Level four cultivation. Two years of progress that most disciples would envy.
And still so much further to go.
—————
"You're joking."
Lin Mei stared at Jin with an expression caught between disbelief and something that might have been awe. The morning sun illuminated the agricultural terrace around them, disciples moving to their fields in the familiar rhythm of pre-dawn labor.
"Level four?" she repeated. "You broke through to level four?"
Jin nodded, slightly uncomfortable with the attention. "Last night. I felt the bottleneck give way and suddenly I was through."
"Level four." Lin Mei shook her head slowly. "In two years. Two years, Wei Jin. Do you understand how insane that is?"
"I work hard—"
"Everyone works hard. I work hard. I've been here for four years and I'm still at level three." There was no bitterness in her voice—just honest amazement. "You're different. I knew it from the beginning, but this… this is beyond anything I expected."
Jin shifted uncomfortably. He'd kept the efficiency tracker secret for two years now, never mentioning the strange text that guided his cultivation improvements. Lin Mei's reaction reminded him why.
His progress wasn't natural. Wasn't normal. If people knew about his mysterious advantage, they would ask questions he couldn't answer. Want explanations he didn't have.
Better to attribute it to hard work and let them underestimate the true scale of his difference.
"What matters is that I can do more for the terrace now," Jin said, steering the conversation toward safer territory. "Level four cultivation means stronger techniques. Better yields. Higher quotas I can actually meet without killing myself."
"Always practical." Lin Mei's smile returned, her astonishment fading into familiar warmth. "That's what I like about you, Wei Jin. Most disciples would be celebrating their advancement, bragging to everyone who would listen. You're already thinking about work."
"Work is what keeps us alive."
"Work is what keeps us alive," she agreed. "But sometimes we're allowed to be proud of ourselves too. You've accomplished something impressive. Don't diminish it by pretending it's ordinary."
Jin considered her words. She was right, in a way. He had worked hard. He had sacrificed comfort and leisure and rest for endless hours of cultivation and labor. The efficiency tracker had shown him the path, but he'd walked it with his own feet.
Maybe he was allowed a moment of pride.
"Thank you, Lin Mei. For being a friend when I needed one."
Her smile softened. "We agricultural disciples have to stick together. The sect certainly isn't going to help us."
They walked to their fields in companionable silence, the morning dew glittering on the spirit rice like scattered diamonds. Jin's enhanced senses made everything seem sharper, more vivid—the pulse of spiritual energy in the plants, the subtle flows of qi through the irrigation channels, the distant presence of other cultivators working their own sections.
Level four. Two years. Ninety percent efficiency.
He was still far from the flying cultivators he'd glimpsed in his first weeks, still infinitely weaker than the elders who ruled the sect. But he was advancing. Growing. Becoming something more than the clumsy, naive child who had stumbled through those gates twenty-four months ago.
The path was long. The burdens were heavy.
But Wei Jin was walking forward, one step at a time.
—————
End of Chapter Eight