The change did not announce itself.
It never did.
Gu Hao noticed it the way experienced people noticed danger — not because something appeared, but because something felt different.
It was late.
Not deep night, but the hour when the compound settled into a half-sleep. Lanterns dimmed. Guards leaned into routine rather than alertness. Even cultivators breathed slower, letting qi cycle without intent.
Gu Hao sat alone in his study.
The Commerce token lay on the table, untouched since the night before.
He had not told anyone about it.
Not because it was secret.
Because it had not yet decided what it was.
Gu Hao poured himself tea and did not drink it.
He was thinking about attention.
On Earth, attention had always been a currency. The more of it you held, the more carefully you had to move. Visibility created opportunity, but it also created distortion. People projected onto you. Expected things. Reacted to rumors before facts.
Here, the same rule applied.
Only the scale was harsher.
Gu Hao closed his eyes and settled into a light meditative posture. Not cultivation. Not breakthrough-oriented. Just stillness.
He reached inward.
Not urgently.
Deliberately.
"Legacy Simulator," he said in his mind.
The presence responded.
But this time, it was… different.
Not warmer.
Not louder.
Sharper.
[Legacy Simulator — Status Update Detected]
Gu Hao's eyes opened.
That had never happened before.
The interface unfolded, not all at once, but in layers, like text revealing itself after being pressed by intent.
[Current Tier: Basic]Simulation Limit: 1 YearCost: 50 Low-Grade Spirit Stones per use
That part was unchanged.
But beneath it, new lines had appeared.
[Accumulated Fate Points: 1,240]
Gu Hao frowned slightly.
That number had not been shown before.
He focused.
"What are Fate Points?" he asked internally.
The response came without emotion.
[Fate Points represent condensed outcome probability generated through simulated divergence.][They may be consumed to temporarily increase cognition, insight, and Dao-aligned comprehension.]
More lines followed.
[Current Conversion Rate:]100 Fate Points → 1 Minute of Enlightened State
Gu Hao did not move.
But something in his breathing changed.
On Earth, Gu Hao had learned to distrust anything that promised clarity.
Clarity was dangerous.
It made people reckless.
But this was not clarity.
This was capacity.
He leaned back slightly, the chair creaking softly in the quiet room.
"So this is the price," he murmured.
Not spoken aloud.
The simulator did not answer.
Gu Hao looked at the number again.
1,240 Fate Points.
Enough for twelve minutes.
Twelve minutes of heightened understanding.
Not power.
Not cultivation speed.
Understanding.
He laughed once, quietly.
"Of course," he said under his breath. "You don't give me strength. You give me time."
Gu Hao stood and walked to the window.
Beyond the study, the Gu Clan slept under a calm sky. Fields stretched dark and orderly. Storehouses stood sealed and guarded. The training grounds were empty now, but faint scuff marks showed where effort had been spent earlier that day.
This clan did not need sudden leaps.
It needed correct decisions made faster than others could adapt.
Twelve minutes.
Used carelessly, they would vanish without trace.
Used well…
Gu Hao felt a familiar chill along his spine.
The same feeling he used to get on Earth when he stood at the edge of a decision that could not be undone.
He did not activate it.
Not yet.
Instead, he sat again and reviewed the last simulation in his mind.
It had shown increased scrutiny.
Not conflict.
Not collapse.
Just weight.
This change in the simulator was not random.
It was responsive.
The system had evolved because the world had begun pushing back.
Gu Hao tapped the table once with his finger.
That meant something else.
If Fate Points were generated through simulated divergence…
Then the more complex the future became, the more valuable foresight would be.
And the more expensive mistakes would become.
There was a knock at the door.
Soft.
Measured.
Gu Hao did not turn immediately.
"Enter," he said.
Gu Qing stepped in.
"Patriarch," he said quietly. "The elders' reports are in."
Gu Hao gestured for him to place them on the table.
Gu Qing hesitated.
"Something else?" Gu Hao asked.
"The cultivators feel it," Gu Qing said. "Not danger. Just… pressure."
Gu Hao nodded.
"Tell them that's normal," he said. "And temporary."
Gu Qing studied him.
"You're certain?"
Gu Hao met his gaze.
"No," he said. "But certainty is contagious. So we'll use it carefully."
Gu Qing left without another word.
Gu Hao returned to the simulator interface.
He studied the Fate Points again.
Then, slowly, he made a decision.
Not about using them.
About testing them.
He sat cross-legged and centered himself.
"Consume one minute," he said internally.
There was no dramatic response.
No surge.
No pain.
Then the world… aligned.
It was subtle.
His thoughts did not speed up.
They clarified.
Noise fell away.
Connections he had half-seen before completed themselves without effort.
He felt his awareness expand sideways rather than forward, touching systems instead of steps.
He saw the grain network as a flow, not numbers.He saw the Chronicle as a pressure membrane, not a publication.He saw the Commerce Network as layered intent, not a faction.
Most importantly, he saw himself.
Not as a patriarch.
As a node.
Time did not stop.
But it became dense.
Every second carried more information.
Gu Hao opened his eyes just as the sensation faded.
The room looked the same.
The tea was still cold.
But his breathing was slower now.
Deeper.
He checked the interface.
[Fate Points Remaining: 1,140]
Exactly one hundred gone.
Exactly one minute passed.
Gu Hao exhaled slowly.
"Dangerous," he said quietly.
Not because it was intoxicating.
Because it was effective.
He understood now why the simulator had hidden this.
Insight was addictive.
Used too often, it would replace struggle.
And struggle was where judgment was forged.
Gu Hao stood and began pacing the room.
He would not use Fate Points to solve problems.
He would use them to verify direction.
Rarely.
Only when the cost of being wrong outweighed the cost of dependence.
He stopped pacing and returned to the desk.
He took out his notebook and wrote carefully.
Not a rule.
A warning.
Enlightenment borrowed too often becomes blindness.
Outside, a bell rang softly as the night watch changed.
The Gu Clan continued breathing.
Unaware.
And that was how it should be.
Gu Hao closed his notebook and placed it beside the Commerce token.
Two tools.
Two dangers.
Both offered leverage.
Both demanded restraint.
For the first time since the transmigration, Gu Hao felt something close to awe.
Not at power.
But at design.
The world was responding to him.
Not as a hero.
Not as a threat.
But as a variable that mattered.
He extinguished the lamp.
Darkness filled the room.
And in that darkness, Gu Hao smiled faintly.
The game had grown deeper.
Which meant it had grown fairer.