The morning sun in the city didn't rise so much as it fought its way through a layer of smog and high-rise glass. I sat on my cramped balcony, nursing a lukewarm cup of instant tea and watching the "salary-man" commuters rush toward the subway like a stream of low-grade spiritual energy.
It wasn't always like this.
Two thousand years ago, the air was thick with Qi so pure it tasted like mountain spring water. You could fly a sword from the Kunlun Mountains to the Eastern Sea without hitting a single cellular tower. Now? If I tried to circulate my internal energy too quickly, I'd probably accidentally trigger every car alarm on the block.
The change—the "Great Ebb"—wasn't a natural disaster. It was an eviction.
A sharp knock at my door interrupted my brooding. It wasn't the frantic tapping of Lin Xiao or the heavy thud of my landlord. It was three slow, rhythmic strikes that vibrated through the floorboards with a strange, hollow frequency.
I opened the door to find a woman leaning against the doorframe. She looked like she'd stepped out of a high-fashion magazine: sharp bob, charcoal-grey suit, and eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses even in the dim hallway.
"Chen Feng," she said. Her voice had a metallic ring to it. "Or should I call you the Sovereign of the Fallen Leaf?"
"I go by 'Mr. Chen' now," I said, leaning on the door. "And I don't buy whatever insurance you're selling. My soul is already non-refundable."
She didn't smile. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial. Inside, a single spark of golden light flickered—not the blue, artificial mana of the modern Bureau, but true, primordial Qi.
My heart skipped. That light hadn't been seen in the mortal realm for five hundred years. It was the energy that used to power the stars.
"Where did you get that?" my voice dropped an octave, the air in the hallway suddenly growing heavy as my suppressed aura began to leak.
"The same place the rest of it went," she replied, tucking the vial away. "My name is Mei Lin. I represent the 'Archive.' We've been tracking the leaks, Chen Feng. The Ebb wasn't a loss of energy. It was a harvest. Someone didn't just turn off the tap; they've been bottling it up for centuries."
I stared at her. The "Great Ebb" was the mystery that had forced my generation into hiding. We all assumed the world had simply grown tired of us, that the Dao had moved on. But "harvested"? That implied a farmer.
"The Bureau thinks I'm a nuisance," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Why come to me?"
"Because," Mei Lin said, looking over her shoulder at the empty hallway, "the Bureau is funded by the very people who built the silos. The world is becoming mundane because it's more profitable that way. An immortal who can split a mountain is a liability. A mortal who needs to pay for electricity is a customer."
She handed me a business card. It was blank, except for a small, embossed symbol of a key entwined with a dragon's tail.
"The seal is thinning, Sovereign. Not because the magic is coming back, but because the silos are full. When they overflow, this city won't just be 'un-magical.' It'll be ground zero for a backdraft that will erase every soul within a thousand miles."
She turned to leave, her footsteps making no sound on the cracked linoleum.
"Think about it, Mr. Chen. You've been hiding for a long time. Don't you want to know who's been stealing your air?"
I watched her disappear into the elevator. I looked down at my hand; it was shaking, just a little. Not from fear, but from a spark of something I hadn't felt in centuries.
Purpose. And a very ancient, very primal desire to break something expensive.