Morning arrived without ceremony.
No dramatic sunrise pierced the clouds, no golden light washed over Tiancheng City to herald a new era. Instead, the sky was a dull gray, heavy with lingering moisture from the night's rain, and the streets below hummed with the same familiar rhythm—commuters, vendors, horns, impatience.
To the world, nothing had changed.
To Lin Yuan, everything had.
He stood by the narrow window of his apartment, one hand resting lightly on the chipped sill, eyes half-lidded as he observed the street five floors below. His senses stretched outward, not consciously at first, but as a natural extension of thought.
Footsteps.
Breathing.
Heartbeats.
He could distinguish them now—not individually across the entire street, but enough to realize that perception itself had deepened. It was as though the world had switched from low resolution to high definition overnight.
This is still only Initial Awakening, he thought calmly.
The realization carried no arrogance. Only certainty.
If this was the lowest step on the cultivation path, then the ceiling of that path was far beyond anything modern society could comprehend.
Behind his eyes, the system interface hovered quietly, no longer intrusive, more like a silent partner waiting for instruction.
[Hundredfold Return System]Status: Active — Stable
Lin Yuan inhaled.
The breath drew in qi—thin, scarce, but present—and under the system's refinement, it flowed smoothly into his body, reinforcing muscles, organs, and bones at a level so subtle that no outward change was visible.
Yet.
If someone were to punch him now—
They would regret it.
A faint smile flickered across his face before he suppressed it.
"Time to move," he said to the empty room.
Lin Yuan left his apartment dressed simply—dark jeans, a clean but unremarkable shirt, and the same worn jacket from the night before, now dried. He made no effort to look impressive.
There was no need.
True power did not announce itself.
As he descended the stairs, he deliberately slowed his steps.
Control, he reminded himself.
The system rewarded action, but impulsive action without intent was inefficient. If everything returned a hundredfold, then even walking, breathing, or thinking carried weight.
A careless habit could compound into something problematic later.
Outside, the air was damp and cool.
Lin Yuan merged into the morning crowd, his presence swallowed easily by the flow of ordinary people. Office workers stared at their phones, students hurried with backpacks bouncing, street vendors shouted prices.
No one spared him a second glance.
That was fine.
For now, anonymity was an asset.
His destination was the university.
Not because he still cared about classes or grades—those concerns felt distant now—but because universities were information hubs. People gathered there from different backgrounds, rumors circulated freely, and more importantly—
He still had access.
Lin Yuan walked through the gates with an ID card swipe, blending seamlessly with students who had no idea that someone among them had already stepped onto a completely different path.
As he crossed the central courtyard, he felt it again.
That sensation from the night before.
A faint pressure.
Like a breeze brushing against his awareness, carrying intent rather than air.
Lin Yuan's steps did not falter, but his mind sharpened.
Someone is observing, he concluded.
Not directly. Not openly.
But close enough to sense the aftereffects of his awakening.
He made no move to confront it.
Instead, he continued walking, posture relaxed, heartbeat steady.
If someone was testing him—
Let them underestimate him.
Three kilometers away, atop a high-rise building that overlooked Tiancheng University, an old man slowly opened his eyes.
The room he occupied was sparse—no unnecessary furniture, no decoration. The floor was polished wood, etched faintly with patterns worn smooth by time. The windows were open, allowing the morning air to circulate freely.
The old man sat cross-legged on a cushion, his spine straight despite his age.
His hair was white, his face lined, but his eyes—
His eyes were sharp.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Before him, a shallow bowl of water rippled gently, though there was no wind.
Within the ripples, an indistinct image had briefly appeared—a young man walking through a crowd.
Then it vanished.
"A spontaneous awakening in the city," the old man said softly. "And such a clean foundation…"
He closed his eyes again, fingers tapping lightly against his knee.
"No inheritance aura. No sect imprint. No artificial catalyst."
Which meant—
"Natural?" he questioned.
The old man chuckled.
"That's impossible."
Nothing like this happened by accident anymore.
Not on Earth.
"Investigate," he said calmly.
From the shadows behind him, a figure stirred.
"Yes, Elder Qin," a younger man replied, bowing deeply. "Should we make contact?"
"Not yet," Elder Qin said. "Observe only. If he survives the initial phase… then we'll see."
The younger man hesitated.
"And if others notice?"
Elder Qin smiled thinly.
"Then the game becomes more interesting."
Lin Yuan felt the pressure recede.
Whoever had been probing him had pulled back, either satisfied or cautious.
"Good," he thought.
He didn't want attention yet.
Not until he understood the rules of this hidden world more clearly.
Inside a lecture hall, Lin Yuan took a seat near the back. The professor droned on about statistical mechanics, equations filling the whiteboard in familiar patterns.
Lin Yuan listened.
Not because he needed to—but because he wanted to test something.
As the professor explained a complex derivation, Lin Yuan followed along mentally.
Then he went further.
He adjusted assumptions. Reworked variables. Explored alternate solutions.
His mind moved effortlessly, calculations unfolding with crystalline clarity.
This is also part of it, he realized.
Mental fortitude didn't just mean resistance to stress. It meant enhanced cognition—focus, processing speed, memory.
Without thinking, he scribbled notes in the margin of his notebook.
The system interface flickered.
[Action Detected: Cognitive Effort.][Choose Return Type.]
Lin Yuan's pen paused.
So even thinking counted.
This was both terrifying and exhilarating.
He considered his options carefully.
If he chose quantity, he could potentially gain the equivalent of hundreds of hours of study from a single lecture.
If he chose quality, his understanding of the subject itself would deepen—conceptual mastery rather than rote accumulation.
Quality, he decided, without hesitation.
[Choice Confirmed: Quality ×100.][Cognitive Refinement Initiated.]
A subtle warmth spread behind his forehead.
The equations on the board seemed to rearrange themselves, revealing deeper structures, elegant symmetries he had never noticed before. Concepts he had once struggled with became intuitive, almost obvious.
Not just this topic.
The method of understanding improved.
"How…" Lin Yuan murmured under his breath.
He stopped himself.
This can't be abused carelessly, he warned internally.
If he refined everything to perfection without context or balance, he risked distancing himself from ordinary reality too quickly. There was value in pacing, even with absolute advantage.
The lecture ended.
Students packed up noisily, conversations resuming.
Lin Yuan closed his notebook and stood.
As he stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice called out.
"Lin Yuan?"
He turned.
It was Zhang Wei—a classmate. Not a friend, but not hostile either. Average build, average grades, average life. The kind of person Lin Yuan had blended in with for years.
"I heard about what happened last night," Zhang Wei said hesitantly. "At Tiancheng Plaza."
So the video had spread.
Lin Yuan nodded calmly. "Yes."
Zhang Wei looked him over, frowning slightly.
"You seem… fine."
"I am," Lin Yuan replied.
Zhang Wei hesitated, then laughed awkwardly. "Good. I mean—good that you're okay. That Zhao Feng guy… people say he's not someone you should provoke."
Lin Yuan's gaze sharpened slightly.
"And do you think I provoked him?"
Zhang Wei froze.
"No—no, I just meant—"
Lin Yuan interrupted gently. "Thank you for the concern."
The calmness in his voice unsettled Zhang Wei more than anger would have.
"Well… yeah," Zhang Wei said. "See you around."
As Zhang Wei hurried off, Lin Yuan watched him go.
Fear spreads faster than respect, he thought.
But respect lasts longer.
By noon, Lin Yuan had confirmed several things:
The system recognized intentional effort more readily than passive action.
Quality refinement enhanced foundational aspects—understanding, structure, stability.
The world contained observers capable of sensing abnormal changes.
Which meant—
He needed resources.
Money.
Information.
And protection.
All three could be acquired.
He stepped into a quiet park near campus and sat on a bench beneath a tree, closing his eyes.
The system interface appeared.
[Awaiting Host Command.]
Lin Yuan focused.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
Inside were a few bills and some loose change—less than two hundred yuan.
He looked at it for a long moment.
Then he made a deliberate decision.
I will earn money, he thought.
Not through gambling. Not through crime.
Through effort.
He opened a financial app on his phone—one he had barely used before—and began researching short-term freelance tasks. Data labeling. Market analysis. Problem-solving gigs that paid per solution.
He selected one.
A complex optimization problem with a decent payout.
Lin Yuan set his phone aside, closed his eyes, and focused entirely on solving it.
Minutes passed.
The solution formed cleanly, efficiently.
He submitted it.
The system responded instantly.
[Action Detected: Earning Money Through Skill.][Choose Return Type.]
Lin Yuan's eyes opened.
This was important.
Money was a resource with no intrinsic upper limit.
Quantity would give him more money.
Quality would… refine money?
No.
Quality would refine the value of the action—perhaps turning a small gain into long-term opportunity, connections, or leverage.
For now—
"Quantity," Lin Yuan said softly.
[Choice Confirmed: Quantity ×100.][Monetary Return Initiated.]
His phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
Then continuously.
Lin Yuan picked it up.
His balance updated.
Not doubled.
Not increased slightly.
It multiplied.
From a modest payout to an amount that made his breath still.
Hundreds became tens of thousands.
Not through fraud.
Not through error.
Through the system's absolute rule.
Lin Yuan closed the app slowly.
"So this is how it works," he murmured.
Effort.
Return.
Hundredfold.
He stood up, pocketed his phone, and looked out across the park.
Somewhere in the city, eyes were watching.
Somewhere else, power structures were shifting, imperceptibly.
And Lin Yuan—
Lin Yuan had taken his first true step forward.
But as he turned to leave, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Not danger.
Not hostility.
But recognition.
A presence, far stronger than the one before, brushed against his perception—brief, controlled, assessing.
Lin Yuan's lips curved faintly.
"So," he thought, "you finally noticed."
The game was escalating.
And this time—
He was ready.