The first rays of dawn painted the paper-thin screens of my window in hues of soft gold and rose. I awoke to a profound sense of inner equilibrium. My body felt stronger, my mind sharper. The spiritual energy within my Dantian was a roiling sea of liquid gold, noticeably deeper and more potent than it had been the day before. The night had been… fruitful.
As if summoned by my waking thoughts, a series of mechanical notifications scrolled through my vision.
[Subsystem Host 'Lin Fan' has perished. Harvest complete.]
[Inheritance Processed: Cultivation of Qi Condensation, Seventh Layer.]
[Subsystem Host 'Chen Yue' has perished. Harvest complete.]
[Inheritance Processed: Cultivation of Qi Condensation, Fifth Layer.]
[Subsystem Host 'Chen Wei' has perished. Harvest complete.]
[Inheritance Processed: Cultivation of Qi Condensation, Fourth Layer.]
[All inheritances have been refined and integrated into Host's Golden Core.]
[Progress towards Middle Stage Golden Core: 18%.]
A satisfied smile touched my lips. Eighteen percent. From three disposable "White Luck" targets. It was a spectacular return for a single day's work. The path to the Middle Stage, a journey that would have taken the original Arya years of secluded cultivation and countless precious resources, had just been shortened significantly. This was the power of the System Maker. I was a shepherd, and the world was my pasture.
I rose from my bed, the movements of my body fluid and powerful. I performed my morning routine with a calm precision. I bathed, dressed in the formal white and crimson robes of a Chen Family direct heir, and tied my hair back with a simple jade clasp. To any observer, I was the picture of a disciplined and serene young master, ready to begin another day of cultivation and study. Inwardly, I was already planning my next harvest, calculating which of the domain's minor geniuses would make the most fertile crop.
My peaceful morning was shattered by a frantic knock on the door of my courtyard.
"Young Master Arya! Young Master!" a servant's voice called out, laced with pure panic.
I composed my features into a mask of calm inquiry and opened the door. It was a young servant named Ping, his face pale as a sheet, his eyes wide with terror.
"What is it, Ping? Speak calmly," I said, my voice steady and reassuring.
"It's… it's Young Master Wei!" he stammered, his words tumbling over each other. "He's… he's dead! They found him in his room this morning! The Third Elder's courtyard is in chaos!"
I let my eyes widen, allowing a flicker of shock to cross my face. I placed a hand on the servant's shoulder, a gesture of both support and authority. "Dead? What happened?" My external reaction was perfect—a concerned cousin, a leader trying to grasp a tragedy.
Internally, a cold wave of satisfaction washed over me.
"No one knows, Young Master!" Ping continued, his voice trembling. "The room… they say it's a nightmare. Blood everywhere. They're saying it was a cultivation deviation, but… but it doesn't make sense!"
"I see," I said, my expression turning grim. I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Thank you for informing me, Ping. Go and assist where you can, but do not spread rumors. The family needs calm right now."
"Yes, Young Master," he said, bowing deeply before scurrying away, looking immensely relieved to have passed on the terrible news.
I stood alone in the doorway for a moment, letting the mask of grief settle more firmly onto my features. Chen Wei. My foolish, jealous cousin. His end was pathetic, but his contribution was valuable. I had a part to play now. The part of the caring elder brother, the stable pillar in a time of crisis. It was a role I knew well from my past life, dealing with corporate crises. The principles were the same: manage perceptions, control the narrative, and project an aura of unshakable confidence.
I made my way towards the Third Elder's residence, my stride long and purposeful. The news had already begun to spread through the estate like wildfire. The usual morning calm was replaced by a fearful atmosphere. Servants gathered in anxious clusters, their whispers following me as I passed. Junior family members, their faces a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity, hurried in the same direction.
They all fell silent and bowed as I approached, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and a desperate need for guidance. I was the family's number one genius, Arya Chen. In moments of chaos, people naturally looked to the strongest for answers. I gave each of them a reassuring nod, my expression conveying a gravity that calmed their nerves. I was acting my part to perfection.
The courtyard of the Third Elder, my uncle Chen Feng, was a scene of controlled chaos. Family guards had cordoned off the entrance to Chen Wei's personal pavilion, their faces grim. My uncle, a proud man who was usually bustling with energy, stood by the entrance, his face ashen, his shoulders slumped. Beside him, his wife, Third Aunt, was weeping uncontrollably, held up by two stoic-looking maids.
"Uncle, Aunt," I said, my voice low and filled with a carefully measured sympathy.
My uncle looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a maelstrom of grief and confusion. "Arya," he rasped. "You've heard."
"I came as soon as I heard the news," I said, moving to his side. "What has happened?"
He shook his head, a gesture of profound helplessness. "We don't know. The healers… they say his life force was completely extinguished. The room…" He shuddered, unable to continue.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, channeling the calm authority my role demanded. "Let me see."
The guards, seeing my uncle's nod, parted to let me through. I stepped into Chen Wei's room, and even I, knowing the cause, felt a flicker of surprise at the unadulterated carnage. The place looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood was everywhere—splashed across the walls, pooled on the expensive carpets, staining the shattered remnants of what looked like a desk and a decorative vase. The air was thick with the coppery tang of it. In the center of it all, a hastily covered form lay on the floor.
A few family elders and healers were already inside, their expressions a mixture of horror and bewilderment.
"Cultivation deviation?" I asked the lead healer, my voice a low murmur.
The old man shook his head, his brow deeply furrowed. "It makes no sense, Young Master Arya. The boy was only at the Second Layer. A deviation at that level might cause some internal bleeding, perhaps a ruptured meridian. This… this is something else. The wounds on his body… they are numerous and varied. It looks as if he was attacked by a beast, or tortured."
"But the estate's formations were not triggered," one of the elders pointed out, his voice tight. "No assassin could have entered, and no beast could have manifested here. It is impossible."
Whispers began to circulate among the junior cousins who had gathered outside.
"Did you hear? Wei was saying he saw shadows in his room at night…"
"I heard it was a curse. The Jin Family… they practice unorthodox arts…"
"It must have been a ghost. A vengeful spirit…"
I listened to the theories, my face a mask of grim contemplation. Ghosts. Curses. Assassins. They were searching for a mystical explanation for what was, in reality, a simple and pathetic story of greed and stupidity. Their fear and confusion were the perfect cover. No one would ever suspect the truth: that Chen Wei had done this to himself. The system was a perfect weapon, its traces erased by the very foolishness of its victims.