Chen Yè walked toward the group and sat down.
Every pair of eyes in the courtyard followed him. He'd expected that—the quiet boy who rarely spoke, who sat at the edges of their training sessions, suddenly positioning himself at the center of their evening gathering.
Bai Zixian's expression remained pleasant, unreadable. But his posture shifted slightly, weight redistributing as if preparing to rise. Or to block an exit.
Chen chose the cushion between Kiran and Noah. Not beside Bai, not opposite him. A position that suggested equality while avoiding direct challenge.
"He told me to come here at this hour."
Seren's voice cut through the curious silence before anyone could ask. The boy's refined features—sharper since his evolution, carrying that depth that came with understanding—remained calm as attention shifted toward him.
"Chen told you?" Vera Lin's sharp eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"He said I needed to be here." Seren's gaze moved to Chen. "That's all."
The group's attention swung back.
Chen let the moment stretch. Two months of useful contributions had earned him this much—the patience to wait while he gathered his thoughts, the trust that whatever he was about to say would matter.
He'd proven himself valuable. Through the perspective-sharing method. Through combat training insights. Through small observations that helped them survive when the system seemed designed to break them.
Now he needed to be more than valuable.
He needed to be necessary.
"I have something massive to share." He kept his voice level, matter-of-fact. "I don't want any questions about how I know."
Silence. But the quality of it had changed—from curious to intent.
"I did the same with him." Chen gestured toward Seren without looking. "He's one of us now. Evolved." He paused, watching their faces shift. "If you do this, there's a high chance you could evolve too."
Noah's round face scrunched in confusion. "Evolve? Just like that?"
"Not 'just like that.'" Chen met his eyes. "It requires understanding. Acceptance. Work. But yes—you could reach Resonance stage."
Kiran leaned forward, grey eyes intense. "What's the method?"
"Your concept." Chen's gaze moved across the group, touching each face briefly. "I'll tell you what it is. Then you use the Insight Chamber to understand how it relates to your representation."
Maya Chen spoke for the first time, her distant gaze sharpening. "You know our concepts?"
"I have strong theories based on your representations and abilities." He shrugged slightly. "Seren's worked. That's proof of concept."
All eyes turned to Seren again. The quiet boy offered a small nod—confirmation that carried weight because he never spoke without reason.
Bai Zixian's pleasant mask flickered. Just for a moment, something calculating moved behind his eyes. "You've realized your own concept, then? Something to do with knowledge, perhaps?"
The question was carefully phrased. Probing without directly challenging. Seeking information while offering a plausible explanation for abilities Chen shouldn't possess.
Chen smiled slightly. "I said no questions about how I know."
"Fair enough." Bai's expression smoothed back into neutrality. But the assessment continued behind that mask. Chen could feel it—the noble-born boy cataloging this information, fitting it into whatever frameworks governed his understanding of power and position.
Let him wonder. Uncertainty was more useful than answers.
"We're going to use Bai's Insight Chamber today."
The words came out flat. Not a request. Not quite a command. Somewhere between—a statement of fact that assumed compliance.
Bai's face scrunched.
The reaction was subtle—a tightening around the eyes, a brief flattening of the lips. Chen had expected resistance. The Insight Chamber was Bai's , located in his block. Inviting the entire group to use it without asking permission first was a deliberate overstep.
But what could Bai say?
If he protested—if he complained about sharing resources when the purpose was helping everyone evolve—he'd look selfish. Petty. The kind of person who prioritized personal comfort over group survival.
The silence stretched. Chen didn't fill it. Didn't offer justifications or explanations. Just waited.
Finally, Bai spoke. "Fine by me".
Agreement without enthusiasm. The best Chen could hope for.
Chen turned to the six who hadn't evolved yet. "I'll tell you your concept. You'll enter the Chamber and work on understanding how it connects to your representation. The similarities between the concept I tell you and what your representation is. The process might take hours—or days. Everyone else waits."
Vera Lin straightened. "You're that confident?"
"Seren evolved using this method." Chen gestured toward the boy again. "I'm confident enough to stake my credibility on the results."
That was the real risk. If this failed—if even one person couldn't evolve using his definitions—his position would crumble. The respect he'd earned would evaporate. He'd become just another failure who'd overestimated his abilities.
But if it worked...
If six more people evolved because he'd given them the key to understanding...
Chen would become indispensable.
"I'm willing to try." Vera's voice cut through the contemplative silence. "What's my concept?"
Chen looked at her—the sharp-eyed girl who had never quite lost the edge that came from growing up having to fight for everything. Her representation had shown him something about speech. About words carrying weight beyond their meaning.
"Command," he said. "The principle of authority itself. Not just giving orders, but being obeyed."
Her eyes widened. Just slightly—a flicker of recognition that suggested the definition had touched something true.
"Ash." Chen turned to the bulky boy with scarred hands. "Erasure. The power to remove, to null, to make things cease."
Ash's expression didn't change, but his hands clenched. Processing. Considering.
"Maya. Illusion. What is perceived versus what is real. The gap between them is your domain."
The quiet girl's distant gaze sharpened further, focusing on him with sudden intensity.
"Sera. Pact. Oath. The binding of words, the weight of promises, the power of agreements that cannot be broken."
Sera Zhao's lips pressed together. Her precise, measured demeanor seemed to still further—as if the definition had settled something that had been uncertain.
"Quinn. Exchange. The principle of trade itself—value for value, balance in transaction."
Quinn Liu leaned forward, her practical mind already working through implications.
"Leah. Solace. Comfort. The power to ease suffering, to provide peace, to be refuge."
Leah Tang's gentle features softened. The calming presence she naturally radiated seemed to deepen, as if recognition was already beginning.
Chen watched their faces. Saw the reactions—some immediate, some delayed, all significant. The definitions had landed. Whether they would lead to evolution remained to be seen.
But he'd done what he needed to do.
Established value. Created dependency. Positioned himself at the center of something that mattered.
"The Insight Chamber," Bai said, rising smoothly. His voice carried that careful neutrality again—the performance of cooperation. "I'll prepare it".
Vera stood without hesitation. "I am ready."
The others followed Bai toward his family's block. Chen remained seated, watching them go.
Seren lingered. "You're not coming?"
"They don't need me for this part." Chen leaned back against the cushion. "The definition is given. The rest is between them and their understanding."
The quiet boy studied him for a moment. Then nodded and turned to follow the others.
Chen sat alone in the courtyard, listening to their footsteps fade.
Six people. Six concepts. Six chances for his theory to prove itself.
If even one failed, questions would follow. Doubt would spread. His usefulness would diminish.
But if they all succeeded...
If seven people evolved because he'd given them what the system couldn't...
He smiled slightly, staring at the artificial stars scattered across the pocket realm's sky.
Control didn't require power.
It just required being the person everyone needed.
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