The dawn light crept lazily across Beijing's skyline, illuminating streets where ordinary life had barely noticed the Golden Era's first whispers. Shops opened, children rushed to school, and traffic hummed like a quiet orchestra. Yet beneath the ordinary rhythm, currents of unseen power surged.
Fang Ze sat cross-legged atop a rooftop near Beijing No. 3 High School, his gaze sweeping the city. The air carried subtle tremors—fragments of awakened Qi, unrefined, yet persistent. Each pulse told a story: a prodigy overreaching, a minor family testing limits, or someone entirely unaware of the power stirring inside them. His hands rested lightly on his knees, but his awareness stretched far beyond the city walls.
In Xi'an, far to the west, Qin Jingsheng's reckless experimentations continued. The air inside his abandoned warehouse vibrated with crude energy, his meridians protesting, yet he smiled with a raw, untempered joy. Nearby residents whispered of strange lights, trembling concrete, and sudden gusts of wind.
Netizens flooded forums:
"Xi'an kid's crazy… I saw a video of sparks flying!"
"Can someone explain how his city block didn't collapse?"
"Awakened? Maybe the government's hiding more."
Fang Ze's eyes flicked subtly toward Xi'an on a digital map. He traced the threads of turbulent Qi and recognized something familiar—a pattern of reckless yet talented awakening. Not enough to rival him, but enough to cause ripples.
In Jiangnan, Tang Wanru practiced under the quiet guidance of her master. Her palms moved gracefully, forming elegant loops of Qi as her internal energy aligned with her disciplined breathing. Though her cultivation was still early, her precision reflected a foundation built over years. She paused, sensing distant disturbances—threads of energy resonating with her own. Curiosity stirred. There were others awakening, but where? Who? The Golden Era was no longer isolated.
Meanwhile, in Shanghai, Li Meng adjusted the data streaming across screens in a dimly lit office. Each spike of resonance was meticulously recorded, analyzed, and cross-referenced. His talent was not in raw energy but in understanding patterns. He leaned back, fingers steepled. "Those who survive chaos without guidance… they're the ones to watch," he murmured. His assistant nodded, eyes wide with realization.
And then there was Nangong Yu. Even from a distance, his disciplined aura radiated through the current of energy connecting the awakened. Fang Ze's memory stirred. A man who had once walked alongside legends in a life long past—now awakening again. The recognition was subtle, like the first shimmer of dawn over distant mountains, yet unmistakable. He would be a key player in the currents to come.
Back in Beijing, Fang Ze exhaled slowly. Su Qingxue mirrored him, seated nearby on the rooftop. Her cultivation had nudged toward the 3rd layer, and her senses caught faint tremors in the Qi network around the city. She tilted her head, studying him. "It's spreading faster than I thought," she murmured, voice low.
Fang Ze's lips curved slightly, calm, unyielding. "These are the first ripples. Many are unrefined. Some will crash. Only a few will survive."
Around them, the city moved on, oblivious. But in the shadows, minor urban cultivators stretched their nascent abilities, and authorities monitored strange fluctuations quietly. Netizens debated endlessly online:
"Did you see Shanghai last night?"
"Xi'an's block was shaking!"
"The government's hiding the truth!"
And all the while, Fang Ze observed. Calculated. Silent. The Golden Era was no longer a rumor whispered across China—it had begun its deliberate, unstoppable rise, and the stage for prodigies, geniuses, and ancient lineages alike was being set.