Dawn came cold and still.
Chen stood at the edge of the Mirror Pool.
It wasn't large—no bigger than a courtyard well. No fancy carvings. Just a circle of smooth black stone, filled with water so clear it looked like empty air.
Elder Mo Yan stood beside it, arms folded.
"Step in," she said.
Not the water. The circle.
Chen did.
The moment his foot crossed the stone rim, the world changed.
Sound faded. Wind stilled. Even his own breath felt distant.
The pool's surface—previously glassy—rippled.
Not from wind.
From him.
Images rose.
Not memories.
Truths.
— His hands, planting the ginseng seed.
— Xiao's snowflake, floating upward.
— Zhao Lei's fist, striking not with anger, but release.
— His mother's back, bent over bitterroot, dawn after dawn.
Then—deeper.
— The moment he gave Xiao the first pill. Not hope. Fear.
— The night he watched his father cough blood and said nothing. Not strength. Helplessness.
— The day he failed Qi Gathering Stage 3—again—and smiled so his family wouldn't worry. Not calm. Loneliness.
The water didn't judge.
It just… showed.
Elder Mo Yan's voice came, soft as mist:
"The Mirror doesn't show who you are.
It shows who you carry."
Chen swallowed.
Then—the surface darkened.
A new image formed.
A figure—robed, back turned—standing on a cliff.
Below: broken towers. Silent rivers. Empty streets.
He raised his hands—not in power, but in offering.
Light flowed from his palms… into the world.
Then—he vanished. Not in fire. In silence.
The First Giver.
Chen's breath caught.
The image shifted.
Now—himself.
Standing in the same place.
Same cliff.
Same broken world.
Same choice.
His reflection looked back—not older. Not stronger.
Just… surer.
Elder Mo Yan watched him.
"You see him," she said. Not a question.
Chen nodded.
"He wasn't a god," she murmured. "Just a man who gave until there was nothing left to take."
She turned.
"The Pool doesn't grant power. It grants clarity.
You may leave. Or… you may ask it one question."
Chen didn't hesitate.
"What does my sister carry?"
The water stilled.
Then—Xiao's face appeared.
Not smiling. Not training.
Sleeping.
And above her chest—faint, but undeniable—a spiral mark glowed: azure, serpentine, ancient.
Beneath it, words formed in the water, like ink on silk:
Soul Mark: Azure Veil
Last bearer: 1st Patriarch's Heir — erased from records.
Affinity: Frost Phoenix — dormant, not awakened.
Warning: Full awakening requires… a key.
The image faded.
Elder Mo Yan's eyes widened—just slightly.
"…She has the Veil," she whispered. "We thought it extinct."
Chen's heart pounded.
The lantern isn't just protection.
It's the key.
He stepped back.
The world returned—wind, birds, the scent of pine.
Elder Mo Yan studied him. "You didn't ask about yourself."
"I already know what I carry," Chen said quietly. "I needed to know what I must protect."
She nodded—once, deep.
"Go. Rest. Tomorrow… we begin."
Back at the courtyard, Zhao Lei was waiting.
"Well?" he asked, tossing Chen a steamed bun. "Did it call you handsome?"
Chen took it. Smiled. "It called me responsible."
Zhao Lei snorted. "Worse."
They sat on the balcony, eating in silence.
Then—a soft chime.
The jade scroll glowed—brighter than before.
[DAILY SIGN-IN AVAILABLE]
Streak: Day 10
⚠️ SIGNIFICANT MILESTONE
Rewards:
🔸 1 × Spirit Stone (High)
🔸 Technique: Veilwalk (Basic — Mist Step, Cloudveil Style)
🔸 First Gift's Echo — Amplified
Note: 10 days of sincere giving. The Chain strengthens.
Chen's breath caught.
First Gift's Echo — Amplified.
He chose it.
The scroll shimmered—gold light spilling over his hands.
✅ SIGNED IN.
Streak: 10 days
Reward: First Gift's Echo — Amplified
Revisit the first gift (Qi Nourishing Pill → Lu Xiao) with full awareness of its ripple.
Gain: Insight into all returns it has generated — direct and indirect.
A warmth spread through his chest—not Qi.
Connection.
Visions bloomed—not in his eyes, but in his bones:
→ Xiao's frost purified the air in her room—killing a hidden mold that had been worsening her cough.
→ Her calm focus helped Yan steady his Crimson Tiger Fist during a critical spar.
→ Her quiet confidence made Zhao Lei rethink his arrogance—leading him to seek Chen's help.
→ Her strength gave their mother hope—so she worked less, rested more, healed faster.
→ Her light gave their father reason to stand tall—even before the Jade Marrow Dew.
One pill.
Ten thousand returns.
Not just in power.
In life.
The System added, softer than ever:
"You thought you gave her a chance.
You gave her a future.
And in doing so… you gave yourself one too."
Chen closed his eyes.
Tears—not of sadness. Of awe.
Zhao Lei glanced at him. "You okay?"
Chen wiped his cheek. Smiled.
"Yeah. Just… realizing how much one small thing can hold."
That afternoon, a knock.
Bai Rong stood at the gate—robes dusted with chalk, eyes bright.
"You made it," Chen said.
"Three days in the archives," Bai Rong said, stepping in. "They let observers study the Unbound Records—texts too dangerous for disciples." He lowered his voice. "I found something."
He unrolled a thin parchment.
A map.
Not of mountains. Of meridians—but vast, continent-sized.
"The Hollow Continent," Bai Rong whispered. "Where cultivation decayed. But look—" He pointed to a single point, deep inland. "The Temple of the First Giver. And here…" His finger traced a faint line. "The Chain of Return—not a myth. A real resonance path. And it starts here."
His finger landed on Greenpine City.
Then moved—to Cloudveil Peak.
Then—to a red star.
The one Chen saw last night.
"The star isn't in the sky," Bai Rong said. "It's beneath the earth. A core of pure, untapped Resonance. The Sect calls it… the Heartseed."
Chen's pulse quickened.
"The key to Xiao's awakening," he murmured.
Bai Rong nodded. "But it's guarded. Not by monsters. By memory. The land remembers the First Giver's sacrifice. It tests all who approach: Will you give… or take?"
They sat in silence.
Then—a new chime.
[GIFT DETECTED]
— Item: Insight & Trust (Shared knowledge, no expectation of return)
— Recipient: Bai Rong
— Intent: Brotherhood. Truth.
Return Ready.
🔸 [QUANTITY]
🔸 [QUALITY]
Chen smiled.
Quality.
✅ Return: Primordial Alchemy Manual — Fragment I
The foundational text of soul-aligned alchemy. Teaches how to refine herbs not for power, but for harmony.
Note: Last full copy was lost in the Great Unbinding.
A scroll appeared in Bai Rong's satchel—warm, humming faintly.
He gasped, pulling it out. "This… this is impossible."
Chen shrugged. "Some gifts just need the right hands."
Bai Rong looked at him—eyes wide, grateful.
Then—he bowed. Deep.
Not to a peer.
To a guide.
That night, Chen stood on the balcony again.
He lifted his father's flute.
Played one note.
Far below, in the clearing, the ginseng shoot had grown six inches—leaves unfurled, edges glowing faint white.
The new star burned bright.
In his mind, the System glowed one last time:
[DAILY SIGN-IN: COMPLETE]
Streak: 10 days
Chain Integrity: 99.8%
Next Reward (Day 15): Memory of the First Oath
P.S. You're doing fine, Lu Chen.
Better than fine.
Chen smiled.
He wasn't a genius.
He wasn't a legend.
He was a boy with calloused hands, a quiet heart, and a choice to make—again and again.
Give.
And watch the world return the favor.