Lyn pulled a book from the shelf and opened it beneath the formation's pale light. Only a few pages were required for the faint interest in his expression to harden into disappointment.
With a frown, he muttered, "It is practically empty." He continued reading: "Rifts are mysterious phenomena that cannot be explained, and their effects vary," each word only deepening his dissatisfaction. The statement told him nothing he could not have concluded on his own. He continued for several more lines, hoping the introduction would lead into something useful, but the book merely repeated the uncertainty in different forms.
His teeth pressed together as he lowered the page. "Fifteen Contribution Tokens," he muttered. "At the very least, there should be something about Mortal Fragments, how they are formed, or how they are meant to be used." He returned the book to its place and resumed searching.
Section after section passed beneath his eyes, most of the titles promising more than the books behind them could deliver. Then a name farther along the shelves caught his attention.
"Mortal Fragments and Combat Theory?"
The disappointment left his gaze.
I have never had an opportunity to study this properly.
Combat and cultivation had occupied little of Lyn's childhood. Khor had helped him reach Rank Three, but cultivation at that level resembled a young flower whose roots had only begun to take hold. It could withstand a weak breeze, perhaps, yet anything stronger would tear it from the earth. A Rank Three cultivator possessed enough strength to defend himself from minor dangers, but not enough to impose his will upon the world.
Lyn carried the book to an open stretch of floor and sat with his legs crossed. Once the cover rested upon his lap, he began reading.
"Mortal Fragments are basic techniques constructed around fragments of law. Rather than using a single Heavenly Shard through its most direct function, a Mortal Fragment combines Heavenly Shards, Truth Carvings, and the Vessel Sea within a repeatable structure."
His attention lingered over the explanation.
Repetition performed in a strict order. The user must understand how each shard functions, and when it must be activated.
The first interpretation felt incomplete. Lyn returned to the passage and examined its wording more carefully.
No, it is more structured than that. A chain of actions, with additional steps concealed between the obvious ones. Someone who understands shards and law well enough could create a fragment technique of their own.
He continued reading, allowing each new piece of information to settle before connecting it to the last. As he had expected, complexity created both strength and danger. Every additional step increased the difficulty of execution, while a single mistake could disrupt the entire sequence. Even when two cultivators used the same Mortal Fragment technique, differences in their Truth Carvings could alter the result.
Lyn's fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the page.
Each link in the chain must be aligned quickly enough that the structure does not collapse. That is why Notion type shards are so valuable.
He was preparing to read further when the writing faded from the paper, leaving blank pages beneath his hands.
Has an hour already passed?
He closed the now useless book, rose from the floor, and brushed the dust from his clothes before returning toward the three doors. As he crossed the boundary, the formation released its hold upon his vision, allowing the library's ordinary details to return around him. A polite nod to the disciple at the front desk completed his departure.
The cold outside air felt cleaner after the enclosed stillness of the library, though it did little to improve the problem waiting for him beyond its doors. Lyn followed the road back toward his home at an unhurried pace while calculating what remained of his resources.
I have almost no Contribution Tokens left. The mine is closed after what happened, so I cannot return there either.
A slight frown touched his face before discipline smoothed it away. By the time he reached his house and shut the door behind him, the same problem had arranged itself into several smaller ones, none of which offered an easy solution.
I should organize what I know and decide what comes next.
A man required a goal. Without a purpose to pursue or a dream worth reaching, he would eventually be reduced to laboring for someone else's vision. Such people could spend their entire lives moving without ever choosing a direction of their own.
Freedom without purpose was merely another form of being lost. Lyn crossed to the sink and focused upon the formation built into the house. Water appeared at its fixed point, drawn through linked space formations in response to his intent.
Every house in Hazelrun possessed a similar arrangement. The simple formations delivered water where it was needed and removed whatever went unused, eliminating the need for ordinary drainage. Sinks, toilets, and the village's other simple utilities depended upon the same principle, though each formation restricted the summoned water to predetermined locations.
Lyn splashed the cold water over his face and allowed it to run from his skin before considering the most immediate answer.
I need another job. No. If I intend to climb in this world, I should be training instead of spending my life searching for work. But without work, where will the tokens come from?
People without ambition could concern themselves only with food and drink, but even such a life demanded resources. A person either hunted for himself or paid someone else for what he needed, and neither path was safe. Danger existed everywhere. In this world, even a person's own eyes might betray them someday. Lyn leaned against the wall and allowed the quiet of the small house to settle around him. The uncertainty surrounding his next step gathered into a dull pressure beneath his ribs.
Once the water had cooled upon his face, he moved to a small table and sat. For a brief time, his awareness entered his Vessel Realm. The golden star remained far above the endless Sea, suspended in the inner Sky without sound or movement. Lyn rested his elbows against the table while his fingers tapped a slow rhythm into the wood.
Returning to the mine was impossible while it remained closed. The few remaining Contribution Tokens would not last indefinitely, while the knowledge he had gained about Mortal Fragments only revealed how far he stood from creating one. Such techniques demanded patience, suitable shards, stability, and time—yet patience was the only requirement he possessed. Lyn closed his eyes and followed the problem toward the shape of a solution.
He rose from the table, dried his face with a worn cloth, and smoothed the folds of his robes more from habit than necessity. A possibility emerged while his hands were still upon the fabric.
What if I resell information?
Lyn sat upon the edge of the bed and allowed the idea to develop.
I could sell cheap information to ignorant outer disciples and wandering Dao Chosen.
Most of what he needed would be simple. Low-tier information shards were inexpensive and could be found in shops almost everywhere, provided someone bothered to search for them. Many wealthy people considered them unnecessary. Knowledge was usually inherited from parents, passed down through families, or learned through ordinary experience, and few were willing to spend even a single Contribution Token on something they believed they could discover themselves.
That attitude made the shards "cheap," at least by the standards of people who possessed more than a handful of Contribution Tokens, but it did not make Light Information Shards useless. In fact, they were remarkably practical when used properly. Lyn already possessed one with which he could begin.
The real difficulty would not lie in obtaining information, but in finding buyers who knew little enough, lacked the patience to search for themselves, and were still willing to pay for knowledge others dismissed as common. The greatest obstacle was pride. His mother had often told him that the rich and ignorant were, of course, usually the proudest as well. They could afford the information easily, yet many would refuse to purchase it simply because doing so meant admitting that someone else knew something they did not.
The common folk were largely off-limits. Many of them understood the usefulness of Light Information Shards perfectly well, and trying to sell them common knowledge at an inflated price was more likely to earn Lyn a beating than a profit. He would have to get creative. He could not simply offer the wealthy knowledge. He needed to present it in a way that allowed them to purchase it without feeling as though they were admitting ignorance.
Hazelrun could not provide such buyers. Too many people recognized him, and the village was small enough for questions to spread faster than answers. Staying there was already unwise. If any more suspicion gathered around the ashrain at Vale Ridge or the golden symbols that had appeared above Hazelrun, remaining in the village would become a risk.
He pressed his fingers against his temples while considering the nearby settlements.
Hazelrun is too poor. Blackburg is too structured. Argindale has too many eyes, and Tortileburn is too far away.
One possibility remained.
Emberbar...
Emberbar stood near the border of the territory, where trade drew a constant flow of temporary workers and travellers. Tokens changed hands easily there, oversight remained weak, and enough gullible people passed through that a careful seller could disappear among them. The movement of the town offered another advantage. If Lyn attracted trouble, a different face could replace him in the crowd by the following day. Once the decision settled, he began packing.
Bread, dried strips of meat, a coarse cloak, and a spare shirt formed the entirety of what he considered worth carrying. One by one, the items passed through his Shard Gate and entered his Vessel Realm, where they floated high in the air.
Lyn picked up his notebook last and flipped through several pages. It contained little of importance, only minor observations and scattered notes about his daily life. He had never treated it as a serious record, writing in it simply as a hobby whenever he found the time.
After several breaths, he stepped outside, threw the notebook onto the ground, and buried it beneath the dirt. It was a small gesture, but it felt appropriate. Whatever had been written within belonged to the life he was leaving behind. From this moment onward, he would begin a new chapter.
He returned to the doorway and allowed his gaze to pass over the village outside. Hazelrun held approximately five hundred people.
They will not miss me for long.
He had never given them much reason to. Friendship required attention, time, and attachment, none of which Lyn had invested in anyone around him. He closed the door behind him and stepped onto Hazelrun's main road, though he remained near its edge longer than he had intended.
In his heart, he laughed bitterly. Most likely, Hazelrun would remember him as nothing more than the last surviving miner of Vale Ridge. That alone was another good reason to leave before the title became the entirety of what he was. His gaze followed the main road beyond the village as his thoughts returned to Emberbar.
Emberbar could not be reached through a casual walk between villages. Travelling alone would be foolish. Beasts could sometimes be outsmarted, avoided, or outrun, but desperate people presented a less predictable danger. Hungry travellers, Silent Hands, and bored Dao Chosen searching for an excuse to harm someone could not be treated like animals following instinct.
It was said that death by one's own hand was preferable to facing the Silent Hands. Walking to Emberbar alone would require nearly a month, perhaps longer. Although it was the nearest town, the distance remained far beyond what he could safely cross in his present condition.
Lyn turned away from the main road and headed toward the old rest square beside the trade route. Hazelrun's size kept most merchants away, especially now that the mine had fallen silent, but caravans still passed through from time to time. He settled near the square and waited without wasting energy upon impatience. The day had nearly faded when movement appeared along the road.
Six wagons approached beneath the lowering sun, each drawn by two beasts of the Minor rank. Their long bodies resembled enormous crocodiles covered in red scales, and the ground shifted beneath the measured weight of their steps. A small sect escort travelled beside the wagons. Most followed the Light Path, though several Fire Path Dao Chosen moved among them.
None appeared stronger than outer disciples of Rank Two and Rank Three.
Lyn watched long enough to understand the caravan's arrangement before approaching the man who directed it. The caravan master possessed thick arms, a shaved head, and the expression of someone who placed greater faith in money than kindness.
"I want passage to Emberbar," Lyn said.
The man looked him over before answering. The youth before him seemed no older than nineteen. His build was slim rather than broad, yet nothing in his posture suggested fragility. Pale skin carried an air of coldness, while long dark hair framed a face that offered little warmth. Thick eyebrows lent his expression a constant seriousness, as though his thoughts continued working even when the rest of him remained still.
Then the caravan master met Lyn's eyes. Their dark, ancient green held a patience that did not belong to someone so young. There was weight behind them, quiet and settled, of a kind the caravan master had rarely seen even among grown men. For the briefest moment, the sight tightened something within his chest. The impression was irrational, yet he could not entirely escape the feeling that the air between them had become heavier.
"Emberbar?" he asked after the pause. "How much do you have?"
Lyn handed over the amount he could afford to spare. It was not much. The caravan master examined the tokens before arranging his face into a dissatisfied frown.
"This does not even cover the journey. You would be dead weight."
The amount met the cost exactly, and Lyn could tell from the man's brief hesitation. The caravan master was applying pressure to see what the boy would reveal. People often exposed more of themselves when they believed something necessary was about to be denied.
No frustration entered Lyn's face, nor did urgency change the stillness of his gaze. He merely watched the caravan master with such complete indifference that the older man felt, for an uncomfortable instant, as though the boy were looking at someone already dead. The response made him more cautious than anger or pleading would have done.
"I can scout," Lyn said. "Light Path."
At that, the caravan master raised his brows, the reaction barely perceptible.
After all, that changed the calculation. Scouting Shards were rare in general, which made Lyn's claim somewhat surprising. Among those currently traveling with his caravan, none of the Light Path Dao Chosen possessed a scouting Shard, while those of the Fire Path were in no better position.
"A scout?" The caravan master gave him a doubtful look. "Right. Scouting Shards are rare, boy. How am I supposed to trust your word?"
Without answering, Lyn opened his Shard Gate and drew out a cat-shaped fragment of green glass. At the caravan master's gesture, he placed it in the man's hand and allowed him to inspect it for himself.
The caravan master turned the Shard over several times, examining its shape and the faint Light Essence within. Finding nothing to dispute, he returned it. Lyn accepted the Shard and sent it back through his Shard Gate.
That silenced the caravan master's objection.
A Light Path scout meant better vision, earlier warning, and fewer risks along the road. Reduced danger preserved lives, cargo, and Contribution Tokens. The caravan master weighed cost against gain, as he had done throughout his life. His attention remained upon Lyn longer than courtesy required while he considered the possible outcomes of accepting him. Eventually, he released a slow breath.
"Second wagon column. If something happens, you move when I order you to."
Lyn acknowledged the condition with a single nod. The caravan master held his gaze for another moment before adding, "Report to the rear quartermaster. You will find him in the third wagon."
Ordinarily, the calm efficiency of such an exchange would have reassured the caravan master. This time, it only prevented his unease from growing further
The caravan master had spent many years dealing with strangers, and experience had taught him to trust the warning that came before evidence. It was little more than instinct, a discomfort in the gut that had saved him from costly mistakes more than once. From the moment he first saw Lyn, that instinct had urged him to refuse, even after the young man offered the required number of Contribution Tokens.
And yet, for the first time in many years, the caravan master found himself acting against his gut. The realization surprised him more than he cared to admit, but he consoled himself with the practical facts. Lyn would undoubtedly prove useful. Besides, he had paid the exact amount required.
With the matter settled, the caravan master turned away to inspect the Minor rank beasts while Lyn made his way toward the third wagon and the rear quartermaster.