Li Tianchen carried water.
The wooden buckets hung from a pole across his shoulders, each filled to the brim. The path from the well to the servants' quarters had been worn smooth by eighteen years of the same routine. His feet knew every dip and rise in the stone.
"Move faster, trash."
A pebble struck his shoulder blade. Tianchen didn't break stride. The water didn't ripple.
Behind him, Li Ming laughed. His cousin was twenty years old and Meridian Opening, mid stage. The laughter of his companions echoed off the courtyard walls.
"Look at him. Steady as an ox. That's all cursed stars are good for, isn't it? Manual labor."
Tianchen reached the servants' quarters and set the buckets down without spilling a drop. He straightened and rolled his shoulders once.
"You really don't react, do you?"
Old Steward Han sat on the wooden steps, smoking from a long pipe. His beard was more gray than black now, but his eyes remained sharp.
"I find it saves energy," Tianchen said. "The buckets don't get lighter when I'm angry."
"Most people would show something. Anger. Fear. Shame."
Tianchen picked up the empty buckets. "Anger accomplishes nothing against Foundation Realm cultivators. Fear even less. Shame requires caring what they think." He paused, then added with the faintest smile, "Besides, Old Han, you're the one who taught me patience. Complaining now seems unfair."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "You counted his realm just from watching him move."
"Everyone talks. I listen. It's amazing what people say when they think you're not worth noticing."
Tianchen started back toward the well. The sun had barely cleared the eastern peaks. Three more trips before the morning water delivery was complete.
"Today's different though," Old Steward Han called after him.
Tianchen paused.
"Annual assessment. Every youth under twenty-five must display their progress." The old man tapped ash from his pipe. "You won't be participating, of course. But you'll be there to serve tea."
"Serving tea," Tianchen said. "My one true calling." The deadpan delivery didn't quite hide the dry amusement. "At least no one expects me to demonstrate anything impressive."
Tianchen continued walking. Behind him, he heard the old steward mutter something that might have been a curse or a prayer.
By midday, the clan's ceremonial grounds had been transformed.
Tianchen stood to the side with other servants, a tray of tea cups balanced in his hands. Before them, the assessment platform rose three meters high, carved from single piece of spirit stone that still hummed with residual qi.
Clan youth gathered in neat rows according to age. Elders sat in elevated seats, their expressions ranging from stern to bored. At the center, Patriarch Li Xuanming occupied the high seat, his face as unreadable as stone.
"Li Ming, step forward."
The cousin who'd thrown the pebble that morning walked onto the platform with confident strides. He clasped his hands and bowed to the Patriarch.
"Meridian Opening, mid stage, achieved four months ago."
He demonstrated. Qi flared around his body like invisible flames. The air itself seemed to thicken. A basic technique, executed competently. The elders nodded. Adequate progress for his age and talent.
One after another, the clan youth displayed their cultivation. Some were praised. Others received pointed criticism. The pattern was familiar. Tianchen had watched this ceremony every year since he could walk.
"Li Yan, step forward."
The murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Li Yan moved like winter water, smooth and cold. She was sixteen, with features that would make poets weep and eyes that promised nothing. Her robes were pale blue, simple in cut but clearly expensive in material.
She bowed to the Patriarch with economical grace.
"Qi Circulation, early stage, achieved one month ago."
The elders sat straighter. Even the Patriarch's expression shifted fractionally. Qi Circulation at sixteen was exceptional for the Li Clan.
She demonstrated. Her qi moved differently than Li Ming's, refined and controlled. When she executed her technique, frost spread across the platform in geometric patterns. Beautiful. Efficient. The mark of someone who understood cultivation theory, not just brute practice.
"Excellent progress, Li Yan," the Patriarch said. Rare praise from him.
She bowed again and descended. Her eyes swept across the crowd once. They passed over Tianchen without pause, as if he were part of the stone wall.
"Li Feng, step forward."
Now the crowd truly stirred.
Li Feng was eighteen, the same age as Tianchen. Where Tianchen carried water, Li Feng carried expectations. He walked onto the platform like he owned it, his smile confident without tipping into arrogance. His robes bore the clan's crest in silver thread.
"Qi Circulation, late stage, achieved two weeks ago."
Gasps. Genuine ones. Late stage Qi Circulation at eighteen was borderline prodigy level, even for larger clans.
When Li Feng demonstrated, the platform itself trembled. His qi condensed into visible golden light. The technique he performed, Heaven's Blessing Palm, created a palm print in the air that hung there for three full breaths before dissipating.
"Remarkable," Elder Li Jian said, not bothering to hide his smile. "You bring honor to our bloodline."
The Patriarch nodded. "Continue your cultivation diligently."
Li Feng bowed deeply, then turned to descend. As he did, his eyes found Tianchen across the crowd. The smile that touched his lips was small. Knowing. A reminder of the distance between them.
Tianchen met his gaze calmly and looked away first. Not from fear, but from disinterest.
The assessment continued. More youth, more displays, more praise and criticism. Tianchen's hands never wavered. The tea tray remained level.
Then Elder Li Hua stood. He was one of the older elders, his cultivation in the Core Condensation Realm. He gestured vaguely toward the servants.
"Bring tea."
It was clearly directed at no one specifically, but Tianchen was closest. He stepped forward with the tray.
As he approached, Elder Li Hua's hand moved. Just slightly. A thread of qi, invisible to most, lanced out.
Not an attack. A test.
It struck Tianchen in the chest.
A normal servant would have stumbled. A mortal would have fallen. The qi pressure was subtle but real, the equivalent of a strong shove.
Tianchen's foot slid back half an inch. The tea tray didn't tilt. Not a single cup rattled.
He continued forward and offered the tea with a slight bow.
Elder Li Hua took a cup, his eyes thoughtful. He said nothing.
Tianchen retreated to his position. Across the platform, he saw Old Steward Han watching him with an unreadable expression.
The assessment ended as the sun began its descent. Youth dispersed to celebrate or sulk depending on their results. Servants began dismantling the arrangements. Tianchen helped carry cushions back to storage.
That night, in the small room he occupied in the servants' quarters, Tianchen sat on his thin mattress and looked at his hands.
Eighteen years of carrying water. Eighteen years of watching cultivation from the outside. Eighteen years of memorizing techniques he'd never be allowed to practice.
He'd watched Li Feng execute Heaven's Blessing Palm today. He understood the qi circulation pattern just from observing the golden light flow. He knew where the technique was flawed, where Li Feng's execution deviated from theoretical optimization.
He knew because he'd spent eighteen years learning everything he could, the only way he could.
Through observation. Through listening. Through eidetic memory and analytical patience.
Tianchen reached under his mattress and pulled out what he'd hidden there three days ago. A jade slip, small and unremarkable. He'd found it in a storage room while cleaning, mixed with damaged cultivation materials meant for disposal.
Just a basic qi circulation manual. Incomplete, probably discarded for better versions.
To anyone else, worthless.
To him, it was the first key.
He turned it over in his hands, feeling the slight warmth that all cultivation materials carried.
Tomorrow, he would return it. Put it back where he found it.
Or.
Tianchen looked toward the window, where moonlight painted his small room silver.
Or he could keep it.
He set the jade slip down and lay back on his mattress, staring at the ceiling.
Eighteen years of being dust beneath Heaven's notice.
Perhaps it was time to see what happened when dust tried to rise.