After closing the final page of the book, I gently slid the book back into its place on the shelf, careful not to disturb the titles beside it. The lanternlight in the library flickered as I walked past rows of shelves, my thoughts still lingering on everything I had read. So much information, so many paths. It felt like I had opened the door to a much larger world—one that stretched far beyond broken soul weapons and rusted fate.

  But tonight wasn’t about grand thoughts or world-shaking revelations.

  I returned to my shack in silence.

  Nothing had changed. It was still the same crooked, leaning structure with gaps between the boards and a stack of dry straw pretending to be a bed. The only thing that felt different was me.

  I let the night take me.

  Sleep came fast and heavy.

  By the time the sun rose, I was already half awake, all due to the sounds outside. Grunts. Feet stamping into earth. The morning chorus of training had begun again.

  I let the noise wash over me slowly, until I finally stood, dressed, and stepped into the light of a new day.

  My muscles screamed.

  The soreness was immediate, deep, and honest. My thighs burned, calves tightened as I walked, and even my shoulders ached slightly, as if they, too, had shared in the strain of holding myself upright in the Root Position for hours.

  But pain was proof that I wasn’t just wasting time.

  I made my way to the same training spot from the day before—just a patch of firm dirt, shaded by one of the few trees left near the edge of our camp.

  I stood still for a moment, exhaled slowly, and then began.

  The Root Position.

  Yesterday, I had only managed two percent progress toward the system’s completion requirement.

  Two out of one hundred.

  That number lingered in my mind—not because it was impressive, but because it meant I wasn’t stuck.

  And that’s what mattered.

  If I could earn even one percent a day, then in a hundred days, I would reach completion.

  A hundred mornings of rooted silence. No glory. No sudden breakthroughs. Just sweat and breath.

  Cultivation didn’t come in waves—it came in drops.

  And so, I stood.

  My legs trembled before the first hour passed. My shoulders stiffened, inch by inch. Sweat gathered at the base of my neck, trailing down my spine.

  But I kept breathing. I kept holding.

  My thoughts wandered, then returned.

  My body fought me every step of the way—but I stayed rooted.

  Eventually, my body gave out.

  A sharp tremble rippled through my legs, and before I could brace myself, I collapsed backward, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

  Flat on my back, staring up at the sky, I could feel my legs twitching—numb, tight, and unresponsive. The burning ache in my thighs pulsed with every breath I took. My knees had turned to jelly, and even shifting my weight to sit upright felt like lifting stone with my spine.

  Still not there yet, I thought with a wince.

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  I took a moment to breathe, then summoned the system screen to check my progress.

  With a faint shimmer, the translucent text hovered in front of me.

  [Progress: Chapter 1 – Root Position (3%)]

  Just as I expected.

  Only one percent gained today.

  Yesterday’s two percent must have been beginner’s momentum—or maybe just the system rewarding that first step.

  I lay back down for a moment, letting the soreness settle in. Maybe if I had the whole day to dedicate to training, I could push it to three percent per day. But that wasn’t reality.

  Because just as I began to entertain the thought of staying where I was for a bit longer, a familiar voice rang out across the camp.

  “Everyone! Assemble at the center of camp!”

  Ren Yao.

  The sound of footsteps filled the space between the shacks as everyone began converging toward the middle of the encampment.

  I let out a quiet groan as I pushed myself up on my elbows, legs still stiff as I moved to follow the others.

  Ren Yao stood at the center of the camp, arms crossed. Dozens of us gathered around him, forming a loose circle.

  “All right, listen up!”

  The camp fell into silence.

  “We start our first real day today. You’ve chosen your groups, your leaders are in place, and now it’s time to work. But I’m not here to micromanage each of you. That’s why you have team leaders. From this point forward, all group coordination, assignments, and daily tasks go through them.”

  He pointed outward, sweeping his hand across the crowd.

  “Hunting, gathering, construction, cooking, scouting—each of you knows where you belong. Head to your team leads and get today’s instructions. We regroup here at sunset to report progress. That’s the system.”

  He gave a single, sharp nod. “Go.”

  With that, the crowd split into motion, people scattering in different directions.

  I turned and made my way toward the smaller corner where the Information Group was gathering—far less crowded than the others, but not entirely empty.

  At the head of our group stood Wu Jian, arms behind his back, posture perfect, even with the slight stoop of age. He was scanning a paper scroll as we approached, eyes flicking across the ink like he was memorizing every detail.

  He waited until everyone had arrived before speaking.

  “Ren Yao gave us our official task for the week,” he began. “While the other teams are beginning operations closer to the forest’s outer edges, that won’t last long. Eventually, they’ll need to push deeper—to find water, herbs, better game. That means greater risk.”

  “And to reduce that risk,” he continued, “they need us.”

  “Our mission is twofold. First—”

  He raised a hand, counting off his fingers.

  “Beast & Monster Compendium. We need to begin documenting every known spirit beast and celestial creature that might inhabit the forest. That means pulling from books we can get our hands on. Behavior, habitats, danger levels, signs of territory—all of it needs to be recorded clearly.”

  He raised a second finger.

  “Second—Herbal & Resource Encyclopedia. A quick-access record of edible herbs, mushrooms, natural resources, even minerals. What they do, where they grow, how to identify them. The gatherers and cooks are going to need this sooner than later. Same deal—research, verify, summarize.”

  He tucked the scroll away and looked at us all evenly.

  “We can’t take books out of the library, which means you’ll need to study, take notes, and bring your findings back here to consolidate. Once we have enough, we’ll compile the references with the other groups so they can be used in the field.”

  Then, with a subtle nod, he added, “You’ll be divided into two sub-teams—those researching beasts, and those focusing on herbs and resources.”

  But instead of stepping back and letting us divide ourselves, Wu Jian remained exactly where he stood, arms still crossed behind his back, eyes calmly scanning each face in the group.

  “I’ll assign the groups myself as guesswork won’t help anyone out there.”

  He moved efficiently, pairing individuals off with little hesitation. There was no favoritism, no pause for approval—just quick assessments and decisive orders, like a man used to building teams under pressure.

  When he got to me, his eyes lingered for a breath longer.

  “You’re with the Beast Compendium Team.”

  I gave a short nod. I didn’t mind.

  Truthfully, I had hoped for that assignment. Spirit beasts were a danger to everyone—but to me, they were a resource. Something I had to seek out, if I wanted to earn the Fate Points I needed to purchase my cultivation method.

  Understanding them wasn’t optional. It was the difference between taking a prepared step forward… and ending up in an unmarked grave.

  Once the assignments were done, Wu Jian gave us a moment to cluster into our new sub-groups. I took a mental note of the others with me.

  Then Wu Jian spoke again, his tone calm but final.

  “Your tasks begin now. Find the information. Study, verify, document. Remember—no books leave the library, so keep your notes clear and organized.”

  He glanced at both groups and added one final instruction:

  “Before returning, make sure you compare notes with your group. Crosscheck your findings. We’re not wasting time in the briefing with duplicate reports. I want clean, unique summaries when you return.”

  He took a step back, signaling we were dismissed.

  “That’s it. Go.”

  And just like that, the Information Group broke into motion.