The Seven-Treasure Brush was a mockery in his hand. It was a flawless tool, perfectly balanced and humming with latent power, but the ink it touched was dead. Lifeless. Jin Wei dragged it across a fresh scroll, forming the character for 'Unbreakable' (不壞).
The strokes were elegant, far better than anything he could have managed with his old stick of a brush, but they were just black marks on paper. There was no resonance, no spark of inner power.
He pressed his thumb against his forearm, where the memory of impossible strength lingered. In the duel, the character had felt like a brand of living steel, a shield forged from will and desperation.
He had poured his soul not into the ink, but into the cold, hungry void of the stone in his sleeve. He reached for that raw, primal focus now, but nothing happened. The character remained inert.
Lin watched him from the corner of the small, sparse room, her arms crossed. Her relief at his victory had long since evaporated, replaced by a deep, furrowed concern.
"You've been at it for hours," she said, her voice firm. "You're exhausted."
"I'm fine," Jin Wei lied, not looking up from his failed attempt.
"No, you're not," she countered, stepping closer. "That last move in the duel… it wasn't natural. Withstanding that strike was not a technique from any scroll I know."
"It was luck," he mumbled, the lie tasting thin and stale.
"It wasn't luck." Her voice was low, insistent. "It was something else. Something… wrong."
Before he could answer, a single, sharp knock echoed at the door. It wasn't the rap of a friend or the hesitant tap of a servant. It was the sound of authority, crisp and commanding.
Lin's eyes met his, her concern momentarily eclipsed by alarm. She moved to the door and slid it open. A Jade Aegis acolyte stood in the hallway, his face a mask of trained impassivity, his robes a severe, unadorned black. The acolyte said nothing. He simply held out a black scroll, sealed with a disc of jade-green wax.
The seal was the personal sigil of Grand Scribe Jin, the Academy's master of doctrinal purity. The heretic-hunter.
Jin Wei's blood ran cold. The acolyte offered the scroll, his duty complete. Jin Wei took it with a trembling hand. He broke the seal. The scroll contained a single, perfectly formed character, written in a hand of terrifying precision.
Attend. (來)
***
The journey to the Jade Aegis spire was a silent walk of judgment. The stares of other students followed him, their whispers trailing in his wake. He was no longer invisible. He was the boy who had done the impossible, and now he was being summoned by the one man whose job it was to punish the impossible.
He rehearsed his lies, layering them with truths. He would be the weak, lucky survivor. The disgraced son who received a single moment of grace. He would not, could not, be the wielder of a forbidden, soul-eating power.
The Grand Scribe's chamber was a shrine to cold precision. The room was stark, stripped of all color and comfort. The only decorations were scrolls of calligraphy hung on the walls, each character a specimen of inhuman perfection, devoid of passion or error. Grand Scribe Jin sat behind a large, blackwood desk, a man as severe and unadorned as his surroundings. He was thin, with eyes that dissected everything they saw.
He did not rise. He simply gestured to an empty spot in the center of the cold stone floor. "Jin Wei."
Jin Wei bowed low, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Grand Scribe."
The Scribe waited until he was standing straight before speaking, his voice crisp as winter air. "Your duel with the young master of House Sun was… noteworthy." The word hung in the air. "The 'Unbreakable' character you employed. A desperate flourish, perhaps. But the resilience it granted you was beyond mere desperation. Explain the principle."
Jin Wei kept his head bowed, his face a mask of confused shame. "Grand Scribe, I… I cannot. It was a fluke. A moment of terror and adrenaline. I only wished to survive. I have tried to replicate it, but I have failed."
The Scribe's sharp gaze never wavered. "Your father. He was a man of… unconventional ideas. His work was deemed heretical for a reason. Did he instruct you in any of his divergent theories before his disgrace?"
It was a direct test, a baited trap. The genuine shame Jin Wei had carried for years bled into his voice. "No, Grand Scribe. My father… he kept me far from his work. He said it was a failed path. I know only the orthodox Resonant Path, as taught by the Academy."
Grand Scribe Jin dismissed the answer with a slight, impatient wave of his hand. "Humility is a virtue, but do not mistake me for a fool. Willpower and orthodoxy do not stop a strike infused with the Seven-Treasure Brush." The Scribe leaned forward, the intensity of his gaze like a physical pressure. "I ask you one last time: from where did you draw such unnatural power?"
The pressure was immense, suffocating. A flicker of genuine fear crossed Jin Wei's face, the final ingredient for his lie. "It was a prayer," he whispered, his voice cracking. "A desperate prayer to my ancestors. To preserve what little honor our name has left."
Grand Scribe Jin fell silent. He held Jin Wei in that piercing, analytical gaze for a long, unbearable moment. The silence stretched, filled only by Jin Wei's frantic pulse. Finally, the Scribe's expression hardened.
Slowly, he rose from his desk, his shadow falling across Jin Wei like a cage. He walked to a tall, narrow window that overlooked the sprawling grounds of the Academy.
"Talent that deviates from the Rectified Path is not talent," he said, his voice cold and final. "It is a weed to be pulled from the garden, lest it choke out the true crop."
He turned his head just enough for his eyes to lock onto Jin Wei's.
"See that you tend your garden carefully, Jin Wei. You are dismissed."
***
Jin Wei bowed, his body stiff, his mind reeling. He stumbled from the chamber on unsteady legs. His carefully constructed composure held just long enough for the heavy door to click shut behind him, and then it shattered.
He leaned against the cold stone wall of the corridor, his breath coming in ragged gasps. It wasn't an interrogation; it was a pronouncement. He wasn't a student who had performed a miracle. He was a flaw in the system. A weed that had been noticed by the head gardener. The Grand Scribe's gaze was a physical weight, a brand on his back.
He pushed himself off the wall and hurried across the courtyard, desperate for the anonymity of his own quarters. A sudden, chilling instinct made him stop. He glanced back at the imposing, black stone spire of the Jade Aegis.
High on a balcony, near the window of the Grand Scribe's office, two figures stood silhouetted against the graying sky. They were dressed in the same severe, black robes as the acolyte, and they were perfectly still. A certainty that froze the marrow in his bones settled over him. They were watching him.
The Scribe's gaze had already become a pair of shadows.
----
Each Power Stone strengthens Jin Wei's ink. Thank you for your resonance.