Ash drifted from the sky.
"Another ashrain? Wasn't there one two days ago?" a miner said staring upward in worry and helplessness.
"Yeah," another sighed, wiping sweat from his neck.
"The world's getting uglier by the day. Let's just hope this isn't a Rank Four type..."
Lyn paused his work and watched the pale drizzle that blurred the horizon.
"Twice in two days," he murmured.
"Hey, you! Stop staring and get back to work – Light-refining ore doesn't dig itself!"
Lyn lifted his pickaxe, but before he could swing, he felt the air thicken. Each flake glowed faintly red. The miners' complaints turned to choking, then coughing.
"This... this is—" The previously cocky substitute fell silent. He could identify the ashrain's rank, but that wasn't necessary anymore. All the workers had to do was to look around them to understand what rank this was.
One man straightened as if his breath had caught on an invisible hook. He clawed at his throat, eyes widening. His chest refused him. Someone tried to shout for help and only scraped air. Knees hit stone.
"Rank Four," Lyn said plainly.
Vale Ridge, where Lyn worked, was a small Ashen Light Sect resource point. A few dozen miners worked under the supervision of a single Fire Path overseer.
If the overseer had come today, they wouldn't have died.
He looked around before continuing his thoughts.
But apparently he got sick and couldn't come today..
He smiled faintly, waiting to make sure they were all dead. Not long after, all the coughing stopped.
Lyn stood still, watching the corpses around him in silence.
People died every day. What difference did these people dying make? they are nameless and will be forgotten.
"I am unaffected as always..." Lyn nodded as he extended his right hand.
A faint shimmer appeared, thin and glass-like.
Lyn guided the shimmering gate to the falling ash. The flakes slid inward into his Vessel Realm
He continued until the Sea within trembled slightly.
That is enough. Any more would risk backlash.
He had collected over forty fragments. Enough for two weeks of food. Enough to possibly afford a cheap Rank One shard.
He sat among the corpses and wrote in a small notebook.
"Rank Four Fire material. Death within thirty seconds. Vessel depletion none. Body unaffected."
He closed the notebook and looked above.
Far above, behind the clouds. Two distant streaks moved against the empty blue, bright and sharp, snapping together like clashing blades. No sound reached the ground.
at the mercy of the strong.. sigh when will I not have to be at their mercy?
After a short silence, he started looting the bodies.
As expected, they had nothing worthy to take. Lyn had no way to take their Heavenly Shards, but he managed to rob them of a few contribution tokens.
Workers and their like were at the mercy of the mighty anyway, so who cares if the nameless also happen to get robbed?
He turned to leave.
He would return to Hazelrun Village and pretend he overslept. A small deduction of contribution tokens would be nothing compared to the risk of explaining how he survived the ashrain, and it wouldn't hurt him financially since he had just robbed the miners anyway.
As he walked, the road dipped downward. Hazelrun Village came into view.
Lyn mentally inspected the three shards in his Vessel Realm.
Light Information, Rank One. It clearly stored knowledge but did not grant comprehension.
Light Reflect, Rank Three. It reflected attacks from Rank One to Rank Three. A Rank Four attack would be partially blocked, but the shard would be nearly destroyed afterward.
These kinds of shards were rare, and indeed, Light Reflect was Lyn's most prized shard.
He also had Light Cat Eyes, Rank One. It allowed him to see up to one hundred steps ahead, even in darkness.
While walking toward the gate, he continued his train of thought.
If I exchange the ash too soon, the elders will ask how I harvested it without Fire Truth Carvings. I will have to rely on luck that they overlook it or forget about it..
He did not know why he could harvest any material, as normally one would need the corresponding Truth carvings.
His stomach growled.
What he did was very risky, but how else was he supposed to advance in a world where rank was valued?
Looks could not save you unless you also had rank. With looks, you might only become a slave. People treated slaves in general worse than wild beasts.
And I still need food.
He stepped closer to Hazelrun's gate when suddenly a faint vibration rolled beneath his feet.
He stopped breathing for a heartbeat.
Behind him, the sky brightened. A golden glow thickened, stretching wider, as if the air forgot how to hold itself together.
Blood warmed inside his nose and slipped down his lip. He wanted to wipe it away, but immediately realized he could not move at all.
His teeth ached so deeply they felt loose in his skull. Wind roared through the village, dragging dust and straw into spirals that scratched across the ground.
From above, the sky looked like cracked glass.
Dust climbed in the air. Space twisted. Something vast paid attention.
Lyn narrowed his eyes through pain.
What could this be?
He tried to move once more.
His legs refused. His body trembled from the inside out, every rib and joint shaking
Light poured through, thick and blinding. Overhead, forms slid into existence—golden symbols with no fixed shape drifted downward, carrying a weight that forced the body into pure, instinctual survival mode. The mind did not understand, but the body did.
Villagers screamed. Some collapsed. Some died on the spot. Others simply froze, their minds retreating to somewhere safer.
Suddenly, one could hear something akin to a broken violin's screech as time itself started to thin.
Color drained from the world like someone had wrung it dry, accompanied by the sound of a church bell. People hung mid-motion, caught between breaths. Even the wind forgot how to move.
Only the golden symbols kept changing, operating on logic beyond this world.
They shifted and turned, sliding across the sky with impossible grace, each movement precise, each angle deliberate, as if the air itself obeyed them.
Something inside Lyn reacted before thought could form. His hand stretched, and his Shard Gate flickered open.
He tried to force it shut, to move, to do anything, yet he couldn't
He sighed helplessly.
A single mark drifted away from the others. Its edges sharpened. Its presence pressed against him until sound collapsed into a single ringing note. Warm blood slipped from his ears violently. His vision blurred. The world shook like a bell struck too hard.
The symbol surged forward and vanished into the Gate.
Silence lay over the world, everyone else seemed to not be aware of anything, as if they could not see or sense the stopped time.
His Vessel Sea surged upward in blinding light, then snapped into perfect stillness. A golden speck appeared in the sky of his Vessel Realm.
It stabilized instantly, settling into place like a star that had always existed there.
His Vessel Sea quieted. Nothing moved. Nothing reacted. No ripple remained.
The rift closed.
Then, a sound like the screech of a violin, followed by a church bell, could be heard before time began to move again and color returned to the world.
Hazelrun Village lay dead quiet. Villagers stood confused and terrified. They had not even noticed that time had stopped just a few minutes ago.
There were some dead, and many collapsed.
He lowered his hand.
Inside his Vessel Realm, the golden star hung in the sky with absolute silence.
Problem after problem.
His tone was flat, almost listless, as if the blood still wet on his face was nothing more than morning dew.
This complicated things. Another variable in a life already crowded with them. Indeed, instead of fear, what stirred in his chest was something closer to irritation
He sighed in worry. His head was still spinning slightly, but it soon stopped. He then wiped the blood from his face the best he could.
He suppressed all Essence. His presence faded until he seemed no different from a Rootless villager returning home late. In this state, even a Rank Four Dao Chosen would overlook him entirely.
Voices appeared in the distance. Sect envoys rushed toward the lingering heavenly distortion.
Lyn calmly adjusted his clothes and walked into the village.
He would say he overslept. No change in plan there.
No one would ever know what truly fell that day. It would become just another story to tell children at night to scare them from going outside. It would become another myth.
The next three days passed quietly.
He stayed inside his small hut in Hazelrun Village, pretending to be sick. Sect members came, performed superficial checks, and left.
They noted the mine's destruction, the missing overseer, the dead miners, as well as the village casualties.
No one questioned Lyn further. After all, what could a lowly outer sect member know that they didn't?
He waited until the investigation ended and the envoys fully left the village before stepping outside.