Lin Tian sat cross-legged on the worn mat in his quarters, the faint afternoon light filtering through paper windows casting long shadows across the room. Before him lay a small heap of herbs and several spirit stones, his allocation as an Observational Disciple. His brows furrowed as he examined the materials more closely.

  The herbs were still coated with soil as if freshly pulled from the ground without any processing. Several appeared wilted, their medicinal potency already diminishing. The spirit stones—supposedly the cornerstone of his advancement—were disappointingly small, barely larger than his thumbnail and glowing with only the faintest luminescence, indicating their low grade.

  Lin Tian picked up one particularly sorry-looking herb stalk, turning it between his fingers. Dried mud crumbled onto the mat below.

  "Young Master," Lin Feng stood at the entrance, his usual composed expression strained with poorly concealed indignation. "I have confirmed with the resource hall three times. This is indeed the allocation specifically designated for you and the other Observational Disciples."

  Lin Tian merely nodded, his expression betraying no emotion as he continued examining each herb. His calm demeanor seemed to further agitate Lin Feng.

  "The resource hall attendant was quite... specific," Lin Feng continued, choosing his words carefully. "He mentioned that Observational Disciples receive an 'appropriately modified' allocation compared to proper Inner Sect disciples."

  "Modified indeed," Lin Tian murmured, setting aside the herbs and picking up one of the tiny spirit stones. Its energy signature was weak, likely harvested from a depleted vein or improperly refined. In proper cultivation sects, such low-quality stones would typically be used only for illumination or basic formation maintenance—never for direct cultivation.

  "Young Master, with all due respect," Lin Feng's voice dropped lower, "this treatment borders on deliberate insult. Even the lowest-ranked Outer Sect disciples receive properly processed herbs. These haven't even been cleaned, let alone refined or prepared for cultivation."

  Lin Tian continued sorting the herbs methodically, separating them by type and potential usefulness despite their poor condition. "Bring them here anyway, Feng. And fetch some water—we'll need to clean them ourselves."

  Lin Feng hesitated, clearly torn between obedience and his rising sense of injustice. "Young Master, I could perhaps appeal to—"

  "That won't be necessary," Lin Tian cut him off gently but firmly. "Bring the water, please."

  As Lin Feng departed with obvious reluctance, Lin Tian returned to his methodical examination of the materials. These resources, meager as they were, represented his first real opportunity for advancement since awakening in this body. He would waste nothing, no matter how insignificant it might seem.

  When Lin Feng returned carrying a basin of clean water, his expression had hardened from concern to outright anger.

  "This is going too far," he declared as he set down the basin with more force than necessary, water sloshing over the sides. "First they create this 'Observational Disciple' position that neither grants you proper status nor resources, then they provide materials that even beast cultivators would reject. It's as if they're setting you up for failure!"

  Lin Tian looked up at his attendant, noting the genuine indignation on his face. Such loyalty was rare and valuable—worth cultivating as carefully as any Qi technique.

  "How so?" he asked calmly, beginning to wash the first batch of herbs in the basin. "Lin Feng, you must understand our position. I and the rest of the Observational Disciples aren't disciples who ranked in the top 25. We barely passed the evaluation, and the only reason we're receiving any materials at all is because of Elder Zhou."

  He worked methodically as he spoke, his fingers deftly removing soil and damaged sections from the herbs with surprising efficiency. "In the eyes of the sect, we lack the potential to be part of the Inner Sect proper. We're an experiment, in a sense. Elder Zhou's teachings and nurturing are to see if disciples like us could be of any use at all."

  Lin Tian held up one particularly small spirit stone, turning it to catch the light. "Honestly, I'm even surprised they decided to send any materials at all. Many would consider this preferential treatment already."

  Lin Feng watched his master work with a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. "But they haven't even been purified, Young Master! These herbs should have undergone at least basic processing. The spiritual essence will be significantly diminished without proper preparation."

  "Bring me those cloths from the cabinet," Lin Tian said, gesturing across the room. "And the mortar and pestle. It's mere dirt—easily remedied."

  "But—"

  "Feng," Lin Tian interrupted softly, "it won't matter. These will still boost my cultivation, and I'm grateful for that. Not everyone receives any resources at all."

  As Lin Feng retrieved the requested items, his mind whirled with confusion. Something fundamental had changed about the young master he served, something he couldn't quite identify but felt in his bones. The Lin Tian he had attended for years had been a fragile, frightened boy prone to fits of depression and self-loathing. That youth would have crumbled at this latest humiliation, perhaps even seen it as confirmation of his worthlessness.

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  Yet here sat this new Lin Tian—calm, methodical, speaking with quiet authority about cultivation techniques he had previously struggled to comprehend. Instead of despairing over the poor quality of his allocation, he simply adapted, finding ways to maximize whatever benefit could be extracted.

  For the past few days, I haven't said anything, Lin Feng thought as he watched his master work, but is the child sitting before me really the Lin Tian I've known all these years?

  He handed over the cloths and grinding implements, noting how confidently Lin Tian accepted them, immediately beginning to crush certain herbs in precise proportions.

  The way he acts and talks... his determination and approach to obstacles... nothing about it resembles the young master I've served. It's as if...

  Lin Feng caught himself, pushing the treacherous thoughts aside. Whatever had happened—whether enlightenment, secret breakthrough, or something more mysterious—it wasn't his place to question. His duty was to serve, and if his master had somehow transformed into a more capable, determined cultivator, he should be grateful, not suspicious.

  "Young Master," he said aloud, "how shall I prepare the room for your cultivation session?"

  Lin Tian didn't look up from his work, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency. "Close the windows and seal any drafts. Cultivation at this stage requires still air to prevent Qi dispersion. Also, bring me that box beneath my bed—the one with the bronze clasp."

  Lin Feng blinked in surprise. He hadn't been aware of any such box. "Bronze clasp, Young Master?"

  Lin Tian paused his work, looking up with momentary confusion before understanding dawned in his eyes. "Ah, my apologies. I meant the wooden box with the cloth wrap. My mind was elsewhere."

  Lin Feng nodded and moved to retrieve the item, but something about the slip nagged at him. It was as if his master had momentarily referenced something that didn't exist in this room—perhaps from another time or place entirely.

  By the time Lin Feng had prepared the room according to instructions, Lin Tian had finished processing the herbs. Despite their poor initial quality, they now sat in neat piles, cleaned, sorted, and in some cases ground into fine powder. The spirit stones had been arranged in a specific pattern around the meditation mat, positioned at what appeared to be precisely calculated intervals.

  "I'll be cultivating for several hours," Lin Tian said, settling into position at the center of the arrangement. "Don't disturb me unless there's an emergency or someone from the sect arrives."

  "Yes, Young Master." Lin Feng bowed deeply and retreated toward the door. "I'll ensure you're not disturbed."

  As the door closed, Lin Tian exhaled slowly, centering his awareness. The shabby quarters faded from his perception as he turned his attention inward, to the embarrassingly small Qi core floating in his dantian. Today's training with Master Zhou had made one thing painfully clear—his greatest limitation was not his technique or understanding, but the pitiful capacity of his core. It simply couldn't sustain even basic cultivation exercises without rapid depletion.

  With the resonance test approaching, Lin Tian needed to increase his Qi capacity quickly. His previous success against the Inner Sect disciples had been largely due to their overconfidence and his precise technique. In terms of raw power, they had vastly outclassed him. Such luck couldn't be counted on again, especially not for a standardized test designed specifically to measure power output.

  Lin Tian stared at the meager resources surrounding him. Under normal circumstances, such poor-quality materials would yield minimal benefits. But circumstances had ceased being normal the moment he awakened in this body, bringing with him knowledge and experience from a lifetime of conquering impossible odds.

  He began by activating the smallest spirit stone, drawing its energy into his palm. Rather than absorbing it directly as most cultivators would, he channeled it through one of the processed herbs, letting the plant's essence filter and refine the raw spiritual energy. The technique—a basic principle of efficient energy conversion—resulted in a purer stream of Qi that he could direct toward his core.

  One by one, Lin Tian activated each spirit stone in the array, creating a confluence of energy streams that he meticulously filtered and refined before absorption. The pattern of the stones was not random; it established a resonance field that amplified their collective output beyond what each could provide individually.

  As the refined energy reached his dantian, Lin Tian employed a technique that felt as natural to him as breathing: condense and release. He compressed the incoming Qi into an increasingly dense formation, building pressure within his core like water behind a dam. When the pressure reached its peak—just before the breaking point—he would release it in a controlled manner, allowing it to expand and strengthen the walls of his core.

  The pain was immediate and intense. His meridians, unaccustomed to handling such concentrated energy, burned as if filled with molten metal. Lin Tian maintained his focus through the agony, compressing the energy further, pushing the boundaries of what his immature cultivation base could withstand.

  His body began to tremble as sweat beaded on his forehead. The technique required precise control—too little pressure would yield negligible results, too much would rupture his meridians and possibly cripple his cultivation permanently. Finding that perfect threshold demanded experience few junior disciples possessed.

  But Lin Tian was no ordinary junior disciple.

  As the pressure within his dantian reached critical levels, blood began to trickle from his nose—a warning sign that he was approaching his physical limits. Still, he pushed further, compressing the energy into a sphere smaller than his original core, distilling it to its purest form.

  When he could compress no more—when his meridians trembled on the edge of rupture and blood flowed freely from his nose and ears—Lin Tian executed the release phase with surgical precision. The compressed energy exploded outward, but instead of allowing it to dissipate, he directed its flow through specific meridian pathways, creating a closed circuit that kept the energy cycling through his system.

  His muscles spasmed as they struggled to contain the rampaging Qi. Every fiber of his being screamed for release, but Lin Tian maintained iron control, forcing the energy to follow his will rather than seek the path of least resistance.

  "Young Master!" Lin Feng's alarmed voice penetrated his concentration. The attendant must have sensed the spike in energy or heard Lin Tian's involuntary groan of pain. "Are you—"

  "Don't enter!" Lin Tian commanded sharply, his voice strained but authoritative. "Stay outside, no matter what you hear!"

  Inside his body, the battle for control continued. Lin Tian gradually drew the cycling energy back toward his dantian, refining it with each pass through his meridians. The process was agonizingly slow—like trying to guide a flood through a network of fragile canals—but with each cycle, the energy grew more stable, more harmonized with his own essence.