Quote of the Day: "Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell. Sustainable scaling requires a robust foundation, not just relentless division."
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The fifty Spirit Stones were a cold, hard weight in the pouch at Lin Feng's waist. A victory, quantified. Yet, the accompanying spiritual fatigue was a phantom limb of weakness, a constant reminder that his balance sheet now had a liability column he couldn't see. The Karmic Burden was a new variable, an intangible tax on his ruthless efficiency.
He sat in the corner of the teahouse, the jar of catalytic solution before him. It was no longer just a product; it was a depleting asset with a hidden, personal cost. He had roughly 499 doses left. Selling them all at fifty stones each would solve his debt problem a hundred times over. But the System's penalty—the 5% reduction in his Qi reserve cap—was a warning. What would happen after ten sales? Twenty? Would he cripple his own cultivation base into nothingness?
He was facing the classic scaling problem. His product had Product-Market Fit, but his production method was not scalable without incurring catastrophic personal costs. He needed to either increase the price to offset the Karmic Burden, or he needed to find a way to reduce the Burden itself.
"Feng'er," Elder Bai's voice was cautious, interrupting his calculations. "The stone... it is a great boon. But you look... pale."
"The product has side effects for the seller as well as the buyer," Lin Feng stated flatly, not looking up. "It is inefficient."
Before Elder Bai could process this, the door chime sounded again. This time, it was not a single desperate cultivator, but a small, nervous group of three. They were all low-level disciples, their robes marking them from a minor local sect. They huddled together, their eyes wide, looking at Lin Feng with a mixture of fear and hope. They had heard. Word of Jian's miraculous, if painful, recovery was spreading.
"You are the one who sells the... the blockage solution?" the boldest of them asked.
"I am," Lin Feng said, his voice cutting through their nervous whispers. "Fifty Spirit Stones. One dose. The warning stands."
The disciples looked at each other, their faces falling. "Fifty... we don't have fifty. We pooled our resources. We have twenty stones. Please, Senior Brother Lin, we are stuck. Our progress has halted."
A week ago, Lin Feng would have dismissed them without a second thought. Liabilities. But the System's ledger was now permanently open in his mind's eye. His [Value Perception] passive told him their desperation was genuine, and their collective twenty stones was their absolute maximum. His old self would have seen a failed transaction.
His new self, constrained by the System, saw an opportunity for a different kind of currency.
"Twenty stones are insufficient for the standard dose," Lin Feng said, his tone not unkind, but utterly factual. "However, I am developing a new, milder variant. You can serve as test subjects for a reduced price."
It was a lie. There was no milder variant. But he needed to test a hypothesis.
The disciples' eyes lit up. "Test subjects? What would we have to do?"
"You will receive a heavily diluted dose. The effect will be slower, less painful, but will require multiple applications over three days," Lin Feng explained, concocting the protocol on the spot. "In return for the reduced price, you will provide me with detailed logs of your spiritual sensations every hour. You will also swear a minor Dao Oath to speak only the truth about your experience to others in your situation."
It was a masterstroke. He was reducing the Karmic impact per dose by diluting it, turning a single, violent transaction into a series of smaller, gentler ones. He was generating less Capital per sale, but he was also acquiring priceless R&D data and creating a viral marketing network bound by a truth-telling oath. He was building a customer base.
The disciples eagerly agreed. The Dao Oath was a minor formality to them, a cheap price for a chance at progress. Lin Feng prepared three vials with a solution so dilute that it was barely a tenth the strength of the original. He took their twenty stones.
[Capital Score: 82/1000.]
[Karma Score Increased!]
[Trait 'Calculated Generosity' has evolved to 'Sustainable Benevolence'.]
[Trait 'Exploitative Mindset' has been successfully integrated, not suppressed.]
[Dao Heart Stability: 25/100.]
[Karmic Burden for transaction: 0.5% Qi reduction (Temporary).]
The result was exactly as he had calculated. The Capital gain was smaller, but the Karma gain was significant, and the Karmic Burden was reduced by an order of magnitude. He had found a loophole. He could scale by making his product less potent, not more. It was counter-intuitive, but the data didn't lie.
As the disciples left, promising to return the next day with their logs, Lin Feng felt a surge of triumph that had nothing to do with Spirit Stones. He had outmaneuvered the System's morality by being more clever, not less ruthless.
This triumph was short-lived.
Chu Yue entered. She did not look like a customer. She moved to the center of the room, her gaze sweeping over the improved formation, the now-neater shelves, and finally landing on the clay jar. She didn't ask. She simply knew.
"So, the rumors are true," she said, her voice calm. "The failing teahouse has become a back-alley apothecary, selling spiritual acid to the desperate."
"It is a catalytic agent," Lin Feng corrected, standing to face her. "And my customers are satisfied."
"For now," Chu Yue replied. She didn't threaten. She simply stated a fact. "The Pavilion has rules about the sale of unlicensed, potent spiritual substances. Rules I am technically obligated to enforce."
Lin Feng said nothing. He waited. She was here for a reason, and it wasn't to shut him down. If she were, she would have brought enforcers.
"However," she continued, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips, "the Pavilion also values innovation. And your... solution... is undoubtedly innovative. Brutal, but effective. My report to Steward Wang will note the regulatory concerns. But my internal report to the Acquisitions Strategy division will note its startling market potential."
She was playing a double game. Officially, she was pressuring him. Unofficially, she was offering him a lifeline—a potential partnership or buyout from a different, more forward-thinking part of the Pavilion.
"Your debt is due in six days," she reminded him. "You have eighty-two stones, by my count. You have a novel product with a severe scaling limitation due to its... spiritual backlash on the creator. You need capital, distribution, and legitimacy. I can provide all three."
"And the cost?" Lin Feng asked, his voice dangerously soft.
"The cost is the recipe. And you," Chu Yue said, her eyes locking with his. "You would become an asset of the Void-Severing Pavilion. A well-compensated one, to be sure. Your teahouse would become a flagship laboratory. But you would no longer own your innovation."
It was the same offer he had made to a hundred companies. A hostile takeover dressed in the finery of a "partnership." He would be absorbed, his identity erased, his purpose redirected to serve a larger machine.
For a single, terrifying moment, he was tempted. It was the path of least resistance. It was safety. It was a guarantee of resources and ascension.
But it was also a surrender. The System's primary quest was to restore his teahouse. To build his enterprise. To walk his path. Selling out would undoubtedly constitute Quest Failure. Soul Dissolution.
"The Serene Heart Teahouse is not for sale," Lin Feng said, his voice flat and final. "My innovations are my own."
Chu Yue's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew more genuine. "I expected nothing less. The offer stands for the next five days. The pressure will only increase. I suggest you find a way to scale your operation without destroying yourself in the process. It would be a waste of talent."
She turned and left, leaving Lin Feng with a cold certainty. The race was no longer just against debt. It was against the attractive, seductive nature of surrender. He had to prove that his path of independent, sustainable scaling was not just possible, but superior.
He looked at the jar, then at the logs the disciples would bring him. He wasn't just selling a product anymore. He was building a methodology. A brand.
And he had just five days to make it valuable enough to be untouchable.