The Ancestral Hall was the only building on the Han Estate that didn't leak when it rained, though the incense burners had long been sold for copper.
Five youths stood in the center of the hall. They were the "last embers" of the Han Clan. Among them, Han Mu, a nineteen-year-old with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl, was the most prominent. He had reached the Body Forging: Medium Level, making him technically the "strongest" member of the family.
Beside him stood three others in the Low Level, and little Xiao'er, who had yet to begin.
Steward Lin, his hair silver and his cough sounding like dry leaves skittering on stone, stood by the door. "Young Master," Lin whispered, "they are waiting. But... morale is thin. They heard about the Zhou Family's visit."
Han Yun entered. He didn't march; he glided. He took his seat on the high chair, which was missing its silk cushion. He didn't look like a beggar-prince; he looked like a sovereign who had simply decided to redecorate with minimalism.
"Han Mu," Yun began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it filled the hall. "Why did you stop training the 'Iron Ox' technique three days ago?"
Han Mu flinched. His head snapped up. "How did you - ? I mean, Young Master, the Iron Ox requires Qi-Nourishing Gruel. We haven't had spirit-grain in weeks. To train without it is to tear the muscles without healing them. It's suicide."
The other disciples nodded gloomily. This was the reality of the Qi-based economy: without Spirit Stones or herbs to supplement the body, cultivation was a slow form of torture.
"True," Han Yun said, leaning his chin on his hand. "The Iron Ox is a blunt instrument. It treats the body like a piece of cold iron to be hammered. But what if the iron is already brittle?"
"Then it breaks," Mu snapped. "Like this clan."
"Silence!" Steward Lin barked, but Han Yun raised a hand.
"He is right, Steward. Honesty is the first step toward reconstruction." Yun looked directly into Han Mu's eyes. With his Heavenly Comprehension, Yun didn't see a boy; he saw a network of Qi-meridians. He saw a blockage in Mu's left shoulder - a remnant of a poorly healed injury. "Mu, your left arm loses sensation after ten minutes of meditation. You believe it is a limit of your talent. It is actually a misalignment of your Qi-Gate."
Han Mu's cynicism wavered. "How could you know that? You haven't even reached the first level of Body Forging."
"A navigator does not need to be the wind to know which way it blows," Yun replied.
He stood up and walked toward the center of the hall. He picked up a piece of charcoal from a dead brazier. On the floor, he drew a single, elegant Rune. It wasn't a complex array; it was a Gathering Rune, the most basic unit of formation science.
"I cannot give you Spirit Stones today," Yun said. "But I can give you efficiency. This hall is built over a dormant Qi-vein. It is weak, but it exists. Mu, sit in the center of this rune. Rotate your Qi not through your primary meridians, but through the secondary 'Hidden Brook' channels."
"The Hidden Brook channels are for women's techniques!" one of the younger disciples snickered.
Han Yun's gaze drifted to the speaker. It wasn't a cold look, but it was so profoundly disappointed that the boy immediately fell silent.
"Nature does not gender energy," Yun said calmly. "The Hidden Brook is thinner, yes, but it is smoother. For those who lack resources, smoothness beats force every time. Mu. Try it. If I am wrong, I will sell my personal calligraphy brushes to buy you a week's worth of spirit-grain."
Han Mu hesitated, then sat. He followed Yun's instructions, his face twisting in concentration.
The air in the hall seemed to shiver. The charcoal rune on the floor glowed with a faint, ghostly grey light.
Mu's eyes flew open. "The pressure... it's gone. The Qi... it's not hammering. It's... flowing."
The other disciples crowded around, their eyes wide. In the world of cultivation, knowledge of "hidden channels" was usually guarded by Great Sects or High-Tier Empires. For a fallen clan youth to possess it was unthinkable.
"This is the First Law of the Web," Yun said, looking at all of them. "We do not compete with the strong using their rules. We create our own. Within two weeks, I expect every one of you to reach the peak of your current level. I will be crafting Spirit Liquid to assist you."
"Young Master," Steward Lin stammered, "Spirit Liquid requires an Alchemist. We don't have a cauldron, let alone a Soul-Refiner."
Han Yun turned to the Steward. He saw the grey tint in the old man's lungs - the 'Qi-Wasting Sickness.'
"We don't need a cauldron, Lin. We have the earth, and we have my soul."
Yun's voice carried a weight of absolute certainty. He was performing a delicate dance - giving them just enough "miracles" to ensure they wouldn't question his orders, while keeping the source of his knowledge a mystery.
"Steward Lin, come with me," Yun commanded. "The rest of you, if I see a single one of you leave this hall before sunset, do not bother calling yourselves 'Han' ever again."
The Inner Garden
Once they were alone, the "Noble" facade on Han Yun's face didn't drop, but it softened into something more human. He reached out and gripped the Steward's wrist.
"You're dying, Lin," Yun said bluntly.
The old man sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I am old, Young Master. My Spiritual Sea dried up years ago. If I can see the Han name restored to a Third-Class House before I go, I will die happy."
"I am not interested in Third-Class," Yun said, leading him to a patch of weeds. He knelt and began digging with his bare hands. "And I am not interested in you dying. Look here."
He pulled up a root. It looked like a common weed, but it had small, silver nodules.
"Frost-Bite Root," Lin gasped. "But... it's poisonous if not refined by a Tier 2 Alchemist! It will freeze the blood!"
"Only if you use fire to refine it," Yun explained. "The world believes Alchemy must involve heat. But the soul is neither hot nor cold. It is a catalyst."
Han Yun closed his eyes.
[Focalisation: Soul-View]
In the blackness of his mind, Han Yun's soul appeared not as a flame, but as a vast, calm ocean. He projected a single "drop" of this soul-force into the root in his hand.
This was Void Alchemy - the highest form of the craft, usually reserved for those at the Spiritual Sea stage or higher. But Han Yun, despite his weak body, possessed a soul that had "Comprehended the Heavens." He wasn't making the root change; he was persuading its Qi to reorganize.
The root began to liquefy. Not into a pill, but into a clear, glowing sapphire broth in his palm. It didn't burn his skin; it vibrated against it.
"Drink," Yun ordered.
Lin didn't hesitate. He swallowed the liquid.
For a moment, the old man stood frozen. Then, a massive crack echoed from his chest. His skin turned a healthy bronze, and a wave of black, foul-smelling impurities erupted from his pores - the Body Forging: Cleansing process.
"My... my meridians..." Lin whispered, falling to his knees. "They're open. Young Master... what are you?"
Han Yun wiped his hands on his robes, his face pale from the soul-exertion. He looked up at the moon, which was just beginning to rise.
"I am a man who remembers how the world was built, Lin. And I am a man who is very, very tired of seeing it in ruins. Go, wash yourself. Tomorrow, we go to Azure Rock City. I need to
'borrow' some resources from the Zhou Family, and they are going to thank me for taking them."