The morning sun barely broke through the hazy clouds over Xi'an, casting long shadows across the remnants of the abandoned warehouse. Dust lingered in the air, and the faint smell of scorched concrete still clung to the walls. Qin Jingsheng stood amidst the debris, his chest heaving, sweat soaking his shirt. The uneven lines of his meridians throbbed painfully beneath his skin, warning him in sharp, fiery pulses.
His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them. "Not… enough," he muttered through gritted teeth. His reckless attempts to force his Qi to circulate faster had backfired—meridians strained, some pathways nearly collapsing under the surge.
Despite the pain, his eyes gleamed with raw determination. "If I don't push… I'll never catch up to them."
But the city had begun to notice. A group of local cultivators, drawn by the unusual energy spike, had arrived on the scene, cautious but curious. One of them, a young man with sharp eyes and a calm aura, murmured to his companion, "That kid… he's untrained but unusually persistent. Keep your distance."
Even from hundreds of meters away, subtle ripples reached the Huaxia Special Bureau Authority (HSBA) monitoring drones. Officers observed the surges but didn't intervene directly—this was an early test, an uncontrolled awakening. The system logged his energy, noting anomalies that demanded future surveillance.
Qin Jingsheng gritted his teeth again, attempting another breath cycle. The three short breaths, one long exhale rhythm had worked before, but today, it faltered. Turbulent Qi clashed violently inside him, sparking an internal backlash. Pain flared in his shoulders, his back stiffened, and he stumbled forward, leaving shallow cracks in the concrete beneath his feet.
"Ugh…" he hissed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But he did not collapse. Instinct and stubborn pride kept him upright. "I… won't stop," he whispered, voice hoarse but resolute.
Unseen by him, hundreds of kilometers to the northeast in Beijing, Fang Ze's eyes opened from meditation. He traced the ripples with a faint tilt of his head. The surge in Xi'an was unrefined, chaotic—but unmistakable. Another prodigy was awakening, reckless and proud, risking his foundation with every reckless motion.
Beside him, Su Qingxue observed quietly, a subtle frown crossing her usually composed features. "Another one… Xi'an?" she asked softly.
Fang Ze's gaze sharpened, calm yet unyielding. "Yes. Reckless, but talented. Those who survive their first collapse… they are dangerous."
Back in Xi'an, Qin Jingsheng finally staggered to his knees, Qi still surging uncontrollably, sweat and blood mingling on his skin. Despite the pain, a gleam of joy shone in his eyes. "So many of us… emerging…" he whispered.
"Then I must… run faster."
The city remained oblivious to the scale of his awakening. Yet the threads of the Golden Era were weaving tighter, connecting prodigies across Xi'an, Beijing, Shanghai, and Jiangnan. A subtle tension hung in the air—one that would soon grow into waves no one could ignore.