《Urban Ascent》


 Chapter 1: Awakening the Mundane

    Have you ever woken up and realized you''ve gotten old before you even had the chance to notice? When I was younger, I always thought I''d make something of myself¡ªthat my life would be different. Eventually.


    But eventually never came. Now here I am¡ª32 years old¡ªsitting in a cubicle I''ve long outgrown, staring at a screen that never seems to change. Just like my life. Another day, another meaningless spreadsheet destined to vanish into the void of this company''s forgotten servers¡ªalong with the rest of my "contributions." Funny how quickly you can become invisible without even realizing it.


    It''s not like my personal life is any better. Just like my career, relationships always felt like a chore, something I kept putting off. And unlike the perpetually growing pile of laundry in the bathroom¡ªconstantly reminding me to buy more shirts¡ªthere''s no visual reminder of just how much time I''ve let slip through my fingers.


    But life has a way of catching up with you, doesn''t it? Sometimes, the most unexpected thing can shake you awake. For me, it wasn''t a new job or some life-altering decision. It was a web novel.


    This probably won''t shock anyone, but I spend a lot of time consuming media¡ªbooks, manga, TV shows, movies¡ªanything to keep me distracted from thinking too hard about where my life''s at. Or, more accurately, where it isn''t.


    Lately, I''ve gotten hooked on Chinese cultivation web novels. And, of course, I did what I always do¡ªhyper-fixated on the concept. One story, in particular, really grabbed me. It was about this 18-year-old college kid who, after being randomly added to some chat group, stumbles into the world of cultivation.


    Naturally, he thought it was just a role-playing chat¡ªpeople pretending cultivation was real. I mean, come on. Anyone with a brain knows that stuff''s pure fantasy, right? If it were real, there''d be proof online by now. After all, everyone''s glued to their phones 24/7¡ªyou''d at least expect a few videos to trend.


    But you know how it goes. Sometimes that little voice in the back of your head whispers,But what if it is real?Sure, it''s probably not. But you''re alone, no one''s watching, and hey¡ªyou already enjoy the novels, so why not indulge in a little meditation and play along? So, that''s exactly what he did.


    And that''s exactly what I did.


    This has to be one of the most meta realizations I''ve ever had¡ªa realization based on a character in a novel having a realization. So, partly out of boredom and partly out of a deep, hidden desire for it to be real, I talked myself into meditating.


    But here''s the thing¡ªthese novels never really explain how to "circulate your chi," or whatever. So I guess I''m just winging it. After awkwardly shoving the coffee table a few feet into the kitchen, I plopped down in the "criss-cross applesauce" position¡ªsomething I hadn''t done since, well, who knows when.


    I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing, but all I can think about is how much my ass hurts from sitting on this cheap, ten-year-old carpet.Sigh.I should''ve just stayed on the couch. Whatever. Let''s see if I can just zone out and "feel" the chi¡ªactually¡ªmana in the air. It''s not like it matters what I call it. It''s not like it''s real anyway.


    What exactly does mana feel like? Is it the air on my skin? Should I be sensing some hidden current? It''s always described as being connected to breathing, so I guess it''s like air, right? But if your "Dantian"¡ªno, let''s just call it your Core¡ªif that isn''t real in a physical sense, then it''s not really about breathing, is it? It''s more about the concept behind it. TheIntent.


    Whoa... why did that just give me chills?


    To breathe without breathing. The idea of it, the framework. Absorption? No¡ªmore like intake? Gather. That''s it. It''s theIntentto Gather. This energy around me. This Mana. It''s about willpower, I''m contending with reality, trying to reshape it, no matter how small, into something different then it already is.


    The air feels thick¡ªrich. Is this mana? It moves in a steady, cyclical flow, drawing power inward with each breath, then exhaling... weakness? It''s almost like I''m being cleansed, impurities forced out of my body, the way CO2 is exhaled to make room for oxygen. Is this what it feels like for my core to finally get the energy it''s been craving, after holding its breath for so long?


    It feels so natural, yet foreign. How could something as fundamental to life as breathing be something you have to learn? Have I ever really been breathing until now? Focus. I can''t get distracted¡ªthere''s something I''m supposed to do with this mana, right? I''m supposed to circulate it.


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    But where? Into my lungs and out to my limbs? Aren''t you supposed to use this mana to refine your entire body? So how does it reach all the organs? Wait... didn''t they talk about minor and major cycles in those novels?


    Maybe the "minor cycle" means focusing on each part of the body separately, and the "major cycle" is when you''ve completed them all. Limbs, torso, head¡ªstarting from the core, let it flow throughout my entire torso. It feels warm¡ªthe kind of heat you feel after working out¡ªbut just where I''ve circulated the mana so far. Wait, is it moving back on its own? Huh, it is¡ªslowly, just like the tide. The "water" I''ve sent away steadily flows back, building up momentum before finally crashing into my core.


    But it feels different somehow. Is some of it missing? I guess it makes sense that this "circulation" would use some up.TINSTAFL¡ªright? There''s no such thing as a free lunch. Obviously, if I''m using mana to temper my body, I can''t expect not to use any of it. Still, though, isn''t it thicker too? It''s almost imperceptible¡ªnot quite like the difference between honey and water¡ªbut it is different, right?


    Well, I guess next I''ll do the left arm¡ªcall me biased, I am a lefty after all.Slow exhale. I slowly push the mana into my arm¡ªvery slowly. It almost feels like something is in the way. It wasn''t exactly easy pushing the mana around my torso, but it definitely wasn''t as tough as this. Is it because my arm is smaller than my torso, or maybe just because it''s farther away from my core? It''s barely made it down to my elbow, and it feels like it''s gotten twice as hard again.


    Am I doing something wrong? It doesn''t hurt, at least. I guess I just have to be patient. Seriously patient. It only took a minute to circulate the energy throughout my torso, but it took me three just to get it through one arm¡ªand the farther away I got, the harder it was. I thought it was difficult getting the energy past my elbow, but once I got to my hand, it felt like I was squeezing toothpaste into each of my fingers.


    Fuck, I''m already sweating and out of breath, like I just ran up three flights of stairs. Lol¡ªor maybe two actually. I''m not exactly in fighting shape, am I? After sitting around all day at work, only to come home and sit around some more, I have all the stamina of a man twice my age. Actually¡ªhow old is that energetic old neighbor of mine? He''s always going for walks with his dog first thing in the morning while I''m half-awake, dragging myself into my truck to drive to work. He could probably make it up three flights of stairs faster than I could.Sigh.I need to get back into shape.


    I guess I should be thankful I''m here all alone. Imagine trying to explain to someone why you''re out of breath from meditating. Just thinking about how embarrassing that would be is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat¡ªif I weren''talreadysweating. Alright, enough feeling sorry for myself. My life has been so sedentary these past few years, I could put my cat to shame¡ªat least he gets up to stretch.


    I might as well do the right arm next. That''s my mouse arm, after all. The righties of the world might not understand, but us lefties end up using our right hand for a lot of things you wouldn''t expect. I''m old enough to remember when corded mice in the computer lab made it just about impossible to use them with your left hand. I continue thinking about unnecessary things as I imagine the mana being pumped from my core out to my fingers.


    Slowly but surely, I finish the next minor cycle, accompanied by another round of sweating, as I try to get my breathing back under control and gather enough mana for the next cycle. Eventually, I completed them all¡ªwith just the head left to do.


    3:26 PM¡ªI started almost exactly at three, so that means between each cycle and the breaks I''ve been taking, it''s taken me nearly half an hour, and I''m not even done yet. Talk about pathetic. There''s no way I''m going to take more than 30 minutes to complete this. You have to draw an imaginary line in the sand somewhere. I might have let myself go, but that doesn''t mean I''ve thrown away my pride. One minute on the torso, followed by a one-minute break. Three minutes on each limb, followed by three-minute breaks. I have four minutes left before my sudden self-imposed deadline.


    Slap. Slap. The sound of me slapping my thighs to psych myself up practically reverberates through my nearly silent apartment. Okay, focus.Deep exhale. With my eyes closed, I hear the minute hand on the clock strike 3:27, and just like before, I imagine my core pumping out mana, this time directing it upwards into my head. Even in my rush, it''s hard not to notice how insanely weird this feels. Before, I said it felt similar to when you''re working out¡ªyour body heats up¡ªor rather the specific body part I was focusing on did. Sure, my head''s gotten hot before, but I can''t say I ever remember the feeling of it "straining itself."


    You might do squats with your legs or curl a dumbbell with your arms¡ªbut it''s not as though I ever did neck lifts or something, right? It''s almost impossible to describe this bizarre sensation of your head (muscles?) exerting themselves. Nonetheless, slowly but surely, I circulate the mana throughout my head, just like I did with my other extremities. Oddly, it''s not even as difficult as my arms. It''s actually quite easy, but at the same time, it''s taking much longer than it did with my torso.


    Do I actually have quite a long neck or something? Lol, as if. Maybe there''s just a lot of empty space in my head it has to fill. But eventually, and seemingly without much effort, this cycle is completed too. As I glance up at the clock¡ª3:29 PM¡ªI can''t help but feel a little proud. Setting everything else aside, I set a goal and achieved it. Not bad for something I was making up on the fly, right?

 Chapter 2: First Sparks

    It''s strange. I''m not sure if it''s just the excitement from beating that time I set or if that minor cycle with my head somehow improved my mood, but I feel refreshed and strangely motivated all of a sudden¡ªwhich isn''t really like me at all. I guess I might as well make the most of it, I wasn''t sure before, but besides using some mana up in these circulations, it''s definitely coming back thicker now. It''s not a huge difference, but especially on that last cycle with my head, I could really feel the difference as it flowed back into my core.


    I remember reading something like this in those novels. I think the energy is being refined into a higher form¡ªfor each level of cultivation there seems to be three minor realms; Beginning, Middle, and Peak. So it makes sense that within these minor realms, there would be minor steps in between those as well.


    Lost in thought, continue to cultivate, and before I know it¡ªI''ve already completed three major cycles. With six minor cycles each, that makes eighteen. Huh, the number three again, did I stop at three subconsciously? Just like how each major realm is divided into three minor realms. Even the six minor cycles I perform for each Major cycle, is divisible by three as well. Why does the number three feel so significant? What did that one novel say? From one begets two, from two begets three, and from three begets everything.


    I guess it''s an attempt to explain the creation of the world, right? In the beginning, there was nothing¡ªor rather, just one thing. Some primordial force, whatever it may have been, that eventually split into yin and yang. Yin representing creation, Yang representing destruction¡ªthe two forming the original cyclical nature of our world. Life and Death, Light and Darkness. And from that came Humanity.


    This trinity¡ªHeaven, Earth, and Humanity¡ªbecame the foundation of existence. Heaven ruled the skies and the immaterial; Earth, the solid ground and the tangible. Between them, Humanity emerged¡ªa bridge between the immaterial and the material, destined to seek balance and understanding, what we now call the Dao¡ªor The Way of Cultivation.


    At least, that''s how all the novels seem to go.


    Well, after three cycles I should finally have refined enough mana to do something right? It''s hard not to start believing after what I felt during meditation, but without some concrete real world result, I''m still a bit skeptical¡ªthat''s just human nature though I guess. I need to use some of this mana¡ªI need to do something with it, but what?


    Keep it simple I guess, right? I''ll just pick something up. I''ve got some dumbbells lying around here. Lifting 20 pounds isn''t exactly superhuman, but at least I know how "heavy" they are without using mana. So they should feel lighter if I can tap into it, right? But, how exactly do I do that? I mean I circulated the mana throughout my arm, but that was more like pushing it to the tips of my finger and letting it gradually blow back on its own.


    To use it, maybeI have to hold it there. If I close my eyes, I can feel the mana swirling inside my core, almost like it''s performing some kind of cycle of its own while it''s at rest. There is still some "unrefined" mana there as well, but it feels different¡ªseperate I guess? It feels less pliable, more difficult to control than the stuff I did refine. Well, since this is my first try, it makes sense to go the path of least resistance right? I can always try using this unrefined mana later, but for now, let''s just keep it simple.


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    Focusing on the refined mana, I imagine using my core to slowly start pumping it into my left arm¡ªbut this time, with the intent to use it for something. For what? Strength of course¡ªlike feeding fuel to a fire, I imagine the "engine" that is my arm revving up, my arm starts to tingle, like it''s waking up.


    As I lift the dumbbell, it''s not exactly light, I can definitely still tell that it''s heavy. It still takes effort to move but it does seem a bit lighter¡ªif only slightly. It''s hard to tell, though. I mean if someone handed you two twenty pound dumbbells, and one that was half an ounce lighter, would you be able to tell the difference? Probably not, hell most weights are already like that anyway aren''t there? It''s not as though they''re precise scientific instruments, carefully checked and balanced to the last gram. This isn''t working, I think I need to start smaller, with something I couldn''t normally do.


    I''m getting thirsty, I guess sweating your ass off for an hour and a half would tend to do that huh? What do I have that''s nice and cold in the fridge? After purising my sparsely filled fridge, my eyes can''t help but be drawn to the final ice cold beer sitting all alone in a six pack. It''s exactly the most workout friendly beverage, but I wasn''t exactly working out either was I? Sure I was sweating, but it was just meditation after all. Besides, how cruel would it be to leave the sole survivor behind to suffer in solitude¡ªI should put the poor thing out of its misery¡ªlol pour thing, get it?


    Wait where do I leave the bottle opener? Drunk me is so inconsiderate, never putting things back where he found them. Wait, something I couldn''t do normally, God knows how many random objects I''ve used to open one of these, but the point is¡ªI always use an object. It''s not like I could just pop the top off with a flick of my thumb... but what if I could?


    My thumb needs to be firmer, so the cap doesn''t dig into it¡ªand I need more explosive power to knock the cap off in one go, instead of a gradual push. As I slowly focus the mana into just my hand and thumb, allowing the remaining mana in my arm to gradually flow back into my core¡ªI imagine it reinforcing the flesh of my thumb, making it tougher, and more resilient. And with the energy in my hand, I slowly compress it, like a spring, before finally realizing the build up power


    Pop.


    My heart starts racing, as my eyes widen in shock¡ªit''s real¡ªthis isn''t just my imagination, as I shakily set the beer down on the counter, my thirst long since forgotten, I start to examine my thumb¡ªbut there isn''t a mark anywhere to be found. Holy shit, I just sent that cap flying all the way across the room¡ªwith these keyboard mittens that look so soft, you wouldn''t believe they had picked up anything in weeks.


    Okay, okay¡ªcalm down¡ªdeep breaths. That wasn''t strictly speaking "impossible" to do right, I mean there are probably plenty of people who could have done that without any sort of "mana". Hell I saw on YouTube a 60 something year old comedian shock the crowd by ripping an apple in half¡ªone rabble hole later, and it turns out it''s all just technique, just like with ripping phone books.


    Maybe I''m just really great at opening beer? I mean, I have had a lot of practice¡ªokay weird thing to suddenly brag about¡ªI need to remember never to say something that pathetic out loud. I mean I never seriously tried to do that before, who''s to say I couldn''t right? I''m going to lose my mind if I don''t get some actual proof. But how much longer would I have to meditate before I could do something truly superhuman¡ªsuperhuman huh, like a mutant? Wait¡ªmaybe I''m thinking about this the wrong way.


    There are different kinds of "superhuman" right, increases in strength might be hard to measure, especially when it''s such a small increase, but what if I tried another kind of power¡ªsomething a normal human could never do. Fire. Even if it''s smaller than a birthday candle, If I''m able to create a flame, hell I''d settle for enough heat to scorch some paper, if I could do that, that would be absolute proof.

 Chapter 3: Ignition Point

    Rummaging through this footstool¡ªone of those cheap, pressed-wood boxes covered in rough cloth, hollow with a removable lid for storage¡ªI''m searching for that Dollar Store box of "emergency candles" I bought three years ago. In this narrow one-bedroom apartment, with less square footage than a department store bathroom, storage is a premium. So, I''ve become an expert at cramming stuff into every available nook and cranny. Apartment living, right? It usually makes things hard to find, though, since I''m not exactly working with the Dewey Decimal system here.


    Ah, here we go¡ªhalf a candle, rolling around loose among the random debris. Not sure why it''s the last one left¡ªor why it''s snapped in half¡ªbut I guess it''ll do. After dragging the coffee table back in front of the couch, I sit down and set the flat side of the candle on one of those "thirsty stone" coasters. Not sure they''re as "thirsty" as advertised, though¡ªseems like the water just pools on top before evaporating. But whatever.


    So, how exactly do I go about creating fire? I guess the name of the game here would be to project this mana outside of my body, right? If those cultivation cycles taught me anything, it''s that the further I have to push it out, the harder it gets. Maybe I''ll channel the energy just beyond the tip of my finger, and if I hold it close enough to the candle¡ªit''ll heat up enough to combust. Well, no time like the present, right?


    I stretch out my finger until it''s practically touching the top of the candle and begin to concentrate. Just like before with the bottle cap, I imagine forcing the mana to the tip of my finger, but this time, visualize it exiting in the form of heat. As expected, the flow drops by half as it reaches my elbow and halves again at my fingertip¡ªthere''s definitely a pattern here. And as if to prove my point, by the time the energy exits my finger, it feels like the flow has halved yet again.


    If the energy I sent to my arm was one-hundred "units" of mana¡ªUhh, I guess I''ll call it Mana Points, or MP for short. I know, I know¡ªbut what do you expect from a chronic RPG fan? Anyway, fifty MP makes it to my elbow, twenty-five to my finger, and a dismal twelve-point-five MP actually exits my fingertip. That''s practically a one-to-ten ratio, and I''m guessing there are even more losses when it converts to heat.


    Note to self: the novels were right again. Internal arts are a lot easier than external arts, huh? No wonder all the beginner cultivators in those stories focus on the basics of speed and strength. Creating a flame out of nothing probably isn''t going to happen, good thing I decided to just focus on heat then right? The candle has to retain some of the heat I pass to it, right? If I can just feed it heat faster than it loses it, eventually it should get warm enough to combust on its own.


    Huh¡ªI guess this still counts as superhuman, but my power being worse than a Zippo lighter is still disappointing. Whatever¡ªeveryone has to start somewhere. Is the candle even getting warm? I gently poke it, half-expecting it to be warm, but... I''m not sure I''m feeling much. Maybe it''s warmer¡ªbut¡ªnot by a significant amount. Sure wish I had a temperature gun right about now. Not actually leave the house and go buy one¡ªwish¡ªbut still.


    Wait, how dumb can I be? It''s not like I only have one finger, right? I''m already sending mana down my whole arm¡ªso why limit myself? Actually, who says I even need to use my fingers? It only halves once it reaches my fingers. I could just release the energy directly from my palm. That would be more efficient¡ª50 MP straight from my hand¡ªbut it wouldn''t necessarily produce more energy.


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    But, it''s a trade-off: 100 MP for 50 output from my hand at 50% efficiency, or 500 MP¡ª100 for each finger¡ªfor 125 output, but at a miserable 25% efficiency.


    But now the question is¡ªis it worth being two and a half times hotter at the cost of five times the mana? In this case, I''m not sure it is. I don''t need a big blast of energy all at once; I just need to build it up faster than it can be lost. Why burn twice the gas to go the same distance if time isn''t a factor? I think slow and steady wins the race here. To begin with, I don''t have much "gas" in the first place, so it''s not exactly the time to be wasteful.


    Reaching back out to the candle, I sort of cup my hand around it, almost as if I''m shielding an imaginary flame from the wind. There''s something incredibly primal about tending to fire. Just like my countless ancestors, I slowly tend to this soon to be flame, this source of heat¡ªmy light in the darkness. Okay, that''s a bit dramatic¡ªI do have a lamp in the corner of my room¡ªbut sometimes it''s important to set the mood.


    That extra twenty-five percent is really making a difference this time¡ªI can practically feel the heat building up on the candle. Reassured, I double my concentration, focusing with all my might. I try to heighten my imagination to its fullest potential. What is heat? And what am I trying to do with it? Warmth isn''t enough¡ªI''m not seeking comfort. I''m seeking power! The power to burn, the power to destroy. Hotter¡ªit has to get even hotter. Like the combustion of flammable gas exposed to a spark, like the fusion of hydrogen fueling the sun. The kind of heat that grows into an unwavering inferno¡ªa recursive function feeding into itself, a destructive cycle. Fire begets fire. One flame becomes two. Two becomes three. And from three¡ªcomes the destruction of everything!


    The true nature of Yang itself¡ªdestruction, light, heat, and fire¡ªthe embodiment of man''s willpower, his drive to impose order, and his capacity to break down whatever stands before him. Yang is relentless, consuming everything in its path, forging power from chaos. As I focus on this intent, I feel the fire within me flicker and grow. This is no longer just about lighting a candle¡ªit''s about tapping into something far deeper, a force that connects me to the very fabric of existence.


    My palm feels as though it could ignite the very air. My breath quickens as I imagine the power coursing through my veins¡ªacting as an extension of the universe''s boundless energy, an inferno ready to be unleashed. And then, without thinking, I do it. I scream at the candle before me.


    "Burn!"


    To my shock, it does.


    Perhaps with a bit too much power¡ªit''s hot! I quickly yank my hand back as I feel the flame lick against my palm. Not burned, but definitely startled, I lose track of time, staring blankly at the flame as it dances atop the candle. My eyes are wider than they''ve ever been¡ªboth literally and metaphorically. It feels as though, for the first time, I''ve caught a glimpse of truth. Even though my heart pounds in my chest, a strange serenity washes over me, the kind of stillness that only comes in moments of profound enlightenment.


    I know, even now, that this single moment will be etched deeply into my mind. Though I''m living it right now, it already feels like something I''ll look back on with nostalgia and wonder. It''s the oddest sensation of disembodiment¡ªlike an even more intense sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Past, present, and future seem to blur together, distilling into this singular experience. In that moment, I almost forget who I am¡ªmy entire sense of self nearly dissolves into the flame.


    "Who am I?" The words escape my lips, though I don''t even remember saying them¡ªit doesn''t feel like I''m in my own body anymore. I can practically see myself sitting there, as if my soul has left me, hovering just above, watching from a distance.


    Suddenly, a sense of urgency floods through me. I realize this is a pivotal moment¡ªa crossroads. If I don''t answer now, I''ll lose everything. It''s as if the very heavens themselves are holding me at gunpoint, demanding an answer to this one question.


    I steel myself, feeling a surge of resolve¡ªperhaps the strongest I''ve ever felt. The words gather at the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out as I¡ª

 Chapter 4: Crossroads of Fate

    The words hang in the air¡ª"Who am I?"¡ªsuspended in the stillness that follows. I feel them echo through me, reverberating deeper than ever before. And then, with a surge of clarity, comes the answer: "I am Nathan Stone, and I seek the Truth!" Speaking those words feels like carving them into my very soul. They linger, shaping me in ways I don''t yet fully understand.


    Slowly, the room comes back into focus. The candle still burns steadily, the small flame flickering like a reflection of the fire that now smolders within me. I know I''ve crossed a threshold¡ªa line that can''t be uncrossed. The feeling of being at a crossroads still lingers, but now, something is different. I''ve made my choice. Is this what it means to be a cultivator? To be acknowledged by the heavens?


    In every story, they describe cultivation as "going against the heavens." Was this the formation of my Dao heart? In some ways, my own answer actually shocked me. Since when was I someone who sought the Truth? And yet, the words came to my mouth as naturally as breathing. Maybe, deep down, this is something I''ve always wanted¡ªsomething I never dared believe could be true.


    That there''s more to this world than what we can see¡ªthat there''s something greater out there. Money, fame, power¡ªnone of those worldly pursuits ever appealed to me. After all, I never pushed myself to get a better-paying job, or to find a partner and start a family. The only thing I ever truly wanted was freedom.


    But freedom is a catch-22, isn''t it? The reality is that you need money to live, and money means work. Unless you were lucky enough to be born rich, money seems to just make itself when you have enough of it. Maybe that''s what sparked my interest in the stock market, but I learned the hard way that nothing comes easy. No matter how many "strategies" I came up with, the only thing I achieved was a dwindling bank balance.


    The largest returns I''ve ever seen were after giving up and putting everything into the S&P 500¡ªboring but reliable advice. Warren Buffet said it, didn''t he? "If I weren''t me, I wouldn''t play the market; I''d just put it all into an ETF." It''s true enough, but seven percent growth on not much is... well, not much. Certainly not enough to live on. So, I had to keep working¡ªjust enough to get by. Forty hours a week, nine to five, no overtime. I''ve saved a little, and I''m doing better than scraping by, but it''s been a quiet life. Too peaceful, maybe.


    I let myself get lulled into a sense of normalcy, as if nothing really mattered. It was easier to convince myself that finding inner happiness and keeping occupied was enough. That there was nothing out there that interested me, no magic to stir me to action. But now? The universe has practically dropped magic into my lap.


    Can I keep lying to myself? Can I keep wasting away, idling my time, never striving for more? I''ve never cared about money, and it''s still not my sole driving force, but with this power¡ªthere''s so much I could do.


    I''m not sure how yet, but I have the inkling of a plan. If mana can be projected outside the body to create heat¡ªif my intent shapes it¡ªcan''t I focus it into practically anything? Are there really any limits? I could perform superhuman feats. I could clear out gangs and drug dealers, clean up the streets, and make some well deserved money while I''m at it. I''m not there yet, but eventually... I could get there.


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    Or, what if I could become incredibly persuasive? Imagine how easy it would be to make money if I could exert a magical charm. A modern-day snake oil salesman, but instead of snake oil, I''d be selling harmless trinkets¡ªmaybe even imbuing them with mana to make them irresistible to anyone who passed by.


    If I could make enough money to quit my job, I''d have even more time to cultivate. And with more time to cultivate, I could get stronger even faster. My potential is practically limitless!


    I haven''t been this motivated in a long time. As I glance up at the clock, I realize hardly any time has passed. It''s just now 4:00 PM. So I guess my reality-redefining moment of cultivation only took about half an hour¡ªand it''s Saturday, which means I still have tomorrow off before the workweek starts again.


    Sunday would be the perfect chance to set up a stall and try my luck with charm magic. I pretty much have everything I need: a folding table, a spare sheet, and, when I was digging through that footstool earlier, I found all those keyrings I bought during my 3D-printing phase. I even have a bunch of trinkets already printed¡ªpopular video game characters and other franchises¡ªenough to test the waters.


    Actually, maybe this is a great chance to clear out some junk. I still have those four Android tablets I bought cheap and rooted. They''ve been wiped clean, and I used them for side projects as little mobile Linux machines. The specs are pretty bad, but the displays are decent enough. They''d be perfect for that digital picture frame code I wrote a while back. It shouldn''t take long to flash them with the software.


    These tablets were cheap¡ªunder forty dollars each¡ªbut that was years ago. No one would want them as tablets now, but as picture frames? I could probably get fifty bucks a pop. That''s two hundred dollars if I can sell them all. I''ll just whip up a foldable kickstand design, print it in black to match the tablets, and glue them to the back. It won''t be fancy, but it should look passable¡ªespecially with a little magical encouragement.


    I spend the next two hours flashing the tablets and printing the kickstands. While they''re printing, I loop keychains onto the trinkets I printed earlier. I even manage to complete another cultivation cycle before the kickstands finish. After gluing them on and leaving the tablets to charge¡ªGrowl.


    Before I realize it, it''s 6:00 PM, and my stomach kindly reminds me I''ve skipped dinner. With everything in order for tomorrow, I toss some chicken tenderloins in the air fryer and heat up a pouch of microwaveable rice¡ªwaiting for a fresh pot isn''t an option for a hungry tummy, especially when the chicken will be done in eighteen minutes.


    Halfway through, I give the chicken a flip, and it comes out golden brown¡ªthanks to the miracle that is an air fryer. With a quick toss in the frying pan and a splash of soy sauce, ketchup, and oil¡ªodd as it sounds¡ªit turns out tasting almost like yakisoba. Not bad for a quick meal.


    Fourteen years as a bachelor hasn''t been for nothing. I''ve learned to cook pretty well, but I tend to gravitate toward convenience. Easy but tasty recipes with basic ingredients have become second nature.


    The meal is filling and satisfying, and I even cooked enough chicken for a second meal. Cook once, eat twice. Nothing better than living off past efforts. With dinner out of the way, I run through another two cultivation cycles before it''s 8:00 PM.


    Like I said, I''m not one for overworking myself. So I call it there, and hop into bed, turn on the TV, and start browsing YouTube to relax. Before I know it, I''m fast asleep.

 Chapter 5: Charm and Chance

    As the morning light filters through the blinds, practically searing my still-closed eyes, I can''t help but cringe. Groaning, I roll over to shut off the alarm, you''d think that after all the meditation yesterday, waking up early would somehow feel... easier. Spoiler alert: it doesn''t. I guess you can''t change your nature so easily, and saying I''m not a morning person would be putting it lightly. But, like with most things in life, you may not like it, but you still have to do it.


    So, as I desperately try to convince myself it isn''t Sunday, I somehow force myself to roll out of bed and stumble through the living room and into the kitchen. Priorities¡ªmeaning first things first: coffee above all else. No coffee means no talkie, and no talkie isn''t going to get any sales. Actually, when I remember what exactly my plans are for today, I can''t help but let out another groan. That was definitely Saturday Nathan talking, and Sunday Nathan isn''t very happy about it.


    But as my beloved kettle hums to life, I pour a spoonful of instant espresso into my mug, followed by a generous splash of sweetened vanilla creamer. Say what you will about the abomination I choose to drink to start my day, coffee snobs of the world. As much as I enjoy a good pour-over made with freshly ground beans, the fact that I''m even standing at this ungodly hour is enough of a feat. Expecting me to go to all that trouble first thing in the morning? That''s a hard no.


    As I slowly come to terms with the awful reality of being conscious, I sip my coffee and wish I were still back in bed. But eventually, as with all mornings, I return to what passes for normal for me. What did my dad always say in the morning? "Waking you up is almost as hard as juicing a stone"¡ªget it, since our last name is Stone? Groan. He always did love a good pun in the morning.


    No time like the present, right? Small change of plans, though. Originally, I was thinking of hitting up a nearby shopping center, but after realizing the foot traffic might not be as good as I''d hoped first thing in the morning¡ªand that I really don''t relish the idea of being chased away by security at some point during the day¡ªI decided a better bet would be to start at the local flea market. After all, there are going to be a lot more people in the mood to buy my junk¡ªerr, knick-knacks. Certainly more likely than someone walking past me into the supermarket. After all, I''m not exactly selling Girl Scout cookies here. People''s "weirdo meters" would probably be off the charts seeing a 32-year-old bearded man sitting at a folding table outside their local supermarket with keychains and digital picture frames.


    Despite my reluctance, I can''t help but feel a buzz of excitement beneath the haze of fatigue. Today is the day I test my charm magic on real people. No more theory, no more guessing. Just real-world application. I''m about to find out if I can use magic to sway people into buying stuff they don''t need. If that''s not modern-day wizardry, I don''t know what is.


    Folding table, check. Spare sheet to drape over it, check. Trinkets from my 3D-printing phase, double check. I smile a little as I toss the keyrings into a box. Who knew hoarding your past phases would come in handy?


    The four Android tablets sit on my desk, fully charged and ready to go. They don''t look half-bad with the black kickstands glued to the back. As digital picture frames, they''ve got a kind of charm to them¡ªat least, that''s what I keep trying to tell myself. But the real charm is going to be up to me after all.


    With my goods ready to go, I awkwardly lug the table and chair downstairs and out to the parking lot to load up my truck. I''ve always tried to live by one rule above all others: one trip or bust. I''d rather crawl down the stairs like a snail, carrying everything in one go, than make a second trip. Not sure why, to be honest. As I wait for my old truck''s engine to warm up, I take the time to find a radio station I like and plug the address into the GPS¡ªwell, into my phone that''s resting in the cupholder, I mean. I''ve never been great with directions, so it''s pretty much a must for me.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Traffic was pretty much nonexistent, and after paying two bucks to park and another forty to rent a space, I finally had all of my stuff neatly spread out on the table. Now all I needed was some customers to actually try and sell to. The whole charm magic thing has been in the back of my mind since I thought about it last night. I think the right approach would be to exude a charming aura directly from my core¡ªsomething to help me give off the vibe of someone you''d want to approach, to appear more likable.


    After all, there isn''t much to say about the products in question¡ªthey''re both pretty much self-explanatory. Although I did have the foresight to bring some snacks as well. I had those snack-size bags of chips I like to pack for lunch. It''s a bit early right now, but I figured in a few hours, people will start getting a bit peckish, and what better way to lure them in than with some random bags of chips? At twenty bucks for a box of forty-two, I think I could gouge people a bit at two bucks a bag. If I end up selling them all, that''d be a sixty-four dollar profit right there.


    As for the keychains, I figured twenty dollars each, along with fifty dollars for the digital picture frames, should be expensive enough that most people wouldn''t normally buy them. They''re not anything special after all, and they''re certainly not worth that much. So, if I can sell enough, I can be pretty confident it''s the magic working¡ªand not just my charming smile.


    The first hour is... slow, to say the least. Plenty of people pass by, but other than a few curious glances and polite nods, I haven''t attracted a single buyer to even talk to me. So far, my charm magic isn''t doing much of anything¡ªor at least, not that I can tell. I''d be lying if I said I wasn''t frustrated, but it''s a learning experience, right? You can''t expect to just master something right away. This is all part of the process¡ªat least, that''s what I keep telling myself.


    Finally, as I''m starting to lose hope, an elderly woman approaches the stall. She catches my attention because she isn''t exactly the target demographic for trendy keychains and electronics. But she picks up one of the tablets, squinting at it before asking in a raspy voice, "What''s this?"


    I clear my throat. "It''s a digital picture frame," I say. "You can load it up with photos, and it''ll cycle through them. Perfect for showing off family pictures."


    She nods slowly, clearly not entirely convinced. Here''s where the charm comes in¡ªI focus on her, concentrating on projecting a feeling of warmth and trust. Charm, charm, charm, I repeat in my head, imagining the mana flowing from me to her, subtle and gentle, like a nudge in the right direction.


    Suddenly, she smiles. "You know, my daughter might like this," she says. "How much?"


    I try not to show my excitement. "Fifty dollars," I reply, keeping my voice steady.


    Without hesitation, she nods, pulls out her wallet, and hands me a crisp fifty-dollar bill. I see her off with a big, goofy smile as the excitement of my first sale washes over me. I can''t believe it actually worked¡ªthat was honest-to-goodness charm magic.


    As the morning continues, I experiment with my magic on every person who passes by. Some are more receptive than others, but I start noticing a pattern. When it comes to charming someone, it''s not about using a pushy, overbearing force. It''s about subtlety¡ªa little nudge here, a gentle pull there. It''s as much about drawing them into your smile as it is pushing them away from their disinterest.


    It''s a back-and-forth¡ªit''s cyclical¡ªand I keep coming back to that concept, which makes sense. Like many things in life, mana seems to be about give and take, pros and cons. Push too hard, and you can feel the charm break. You have to walk a fine line, slowly reeling them in while giving them enough slack so that the invisible thread you''re using doesn''t snap.


    By the afternoon, I''ve sold three tablets, twenty-one bags of chips, seven keychains, and¡ªoddly¡ªa pack of gum. A prospective chip customer I was chatting with happened to lament the fact that he didn''t have any gum. Since I had a pack on me, I offered him a stick, and he asked if he could buy the whole pack. A bit strange, but five dollars for an opened, two-dollar pack of gum sounded good to me. He walked off with that, a bag of Funyuns, and a keychain.


    That brings my total sales for the day up to $337¡ªnot freaking bad at all. Five hours at the flea market, another two preparing the items yesterday, and drive time¡ªlet''s just call it an eight-hour day. That''s already over forty-two dollars an hour!

 Chapter 6: Meeting the Unexpected

    The midday sun was high, casting harsh shadows across the flea market. The gentle hum of people moving between stalls filled the air, though the heat made it hard to enjoy. October in the valley was supposed to be cooler, but record highs were still clinging to life, and I could already feel the sweat prickling beneath my shirt. It probably didn''t help that I''d been continuously activating that subtle charm throughout the day, pushing my mana outward, trying to sway the minds of anyone who passed by¡ªit was getting exhausting.


    I couldn''t help but want to sell that last picture frame before I left. I had already made $337 today, but call it a sense of completionism¡ªlike trying to find the last hidden trophy in a game so I could finally earn the platinum full-clear award. The handful of keychains I had left were another matter altogether. They were just bits of plastic I''d printed ages ago, but this tablet was my last "big-ticket item," and I had subconsciously set selling them all today as my goal.


    Suddenly, I noticed an old man walking toward my stall¡ªa small figure, hunched slightly with age, wearing an unassuming beige shirt with khakis. It was the kind of outfit so plain that it actually drew your eye to it. I focused, gathering my energy, trying to charm him just as I had with all the others who passed by.


    But he kept walking, seemingly unfazed by my efforts. Perhaps subconsciously, since my first customer was an older woman, I wanted to end the day by selling this last tablet to this old man. It resonated with me, falling in line with my ever-growing fixation on the cyclical nature of the world. Or maybe I was just hot, tired, and ready to get out of this heat since I hadn''t been smart enough to bring any kind of shade with me.


    I furrowed my brow in concentration, pushing more mana into my aura. This time I imagined my charm settling over him like a gentle cloud, inviting and warm. The old man slowed as he neared my stall, but he didn''t glance at the keychains or the tablet¡ªhe stared straight into my eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, and then he smiled¡ªa gentle, knowing smile.


    "You''re about ten years too early to be trying that half-assed charm magic on me, kid," he said, his voice soft but carrying a weight that echoed in the space between us.


    I blinked, the shock evident on my face. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he''d just said. How did he know? Is he also a...?


    The old man chuckled, clearly enjoying my bewilderment. "You must be completely new to this, huh? A self-cultivator, if I had to guess," he continued, his tone not mocking but almost... fatherly. "You didn''t think you were the only one out there, did you?"


    His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Of course, I wouldn''t be the only one out there¡ªhow could I have been so stupid? With as many stories as there are online, and even before that, all the ancient Chinese literature these stories were based on¡ªof course someone else had tried this before me. If cultivation is real, people must have been doing this for hundreds of years now, maybe thousands. What''s that old saying again? There''s no smoke without fire. So, of course, if there are stories, there has to be at least a kernel of truth to them.


    The old man stepped closer, taking a seat on the folding chair I had brought with me, as if he belonged there. He gestured to the assortment of items spread out on the table. "Not a bad way to practice, I suppose," he mused, "but you''ve got a long way to go."


    His gaze shifted back to me, piercing but not unkind. "Let me guess¡ªyou somehow discovered the practice of cultivation, and even though you initially wrote it off, curiosity got the better of you. You actually sat down and tried to meditate, only to discover it was real. After some minor success in circulating this energy, you decided to see what you could do with it?" He didn''t wait for me to confirm. "Happens to all of us sooner or later, but don''t get too ahead of yourself. Charm magic¡ªor any kind of external technique¡ªrequires a foundation. You''re leaking qi like a sieve. That''ll burn you out faster than you realize."


    I felt my mouth go dry. Burnout? I hadn''t even considered that. Sure, I''d felt tired after a long day of practice, but wasn''t that normal?


    "You need control," the old man continued, his voice patient but firm. He reached for one of the keychains on the table and began to stack them, one atop the other, slowly and carefully. "It''s like trying to write with a broken pen. You''ll never get clean lines that way. First, you need to strengthen your Sea of Qi and bring equilibrium to all your meridians." Each movement was deliberate, his hands steady as the stack grew taller. "Without a strong base, everything you build is fragile," he said, gesturing to the sturdy stack.


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    Then, with a sudden shift, he grabbed another handful of keychains and began haphazardly stacking them, quickly and without care. The pile teetered after a few layers, and with a soft clatter, it collapsed. He gave me a pointed look. "Rushing ahead without a proper base..." He let the broken stack speak for itself. "And you might find everything collapsing around you."


    "Who are you?" I finally asked, my voice hoarse with curiosity.


    He still maintained that same smile, but this time, there was something deeper in his eyes¡ªa hint of weariness, perhaps. "Someone who has been doing this for a long time. But that''s not what''s important right now. What''s important is whether you''re going to keep stumbling around in the dark, or if you''re ready to learn."


    The proposition hung in the air between us. Was he offering to teach me? To guide me?


    "But why would you¡ª"


    "Why help you?" he finished for me. "I suppose you remind me of someone I used to know." A hint of sadness flitted across his eyes, but just as suddenly as it came, it was gone as if it was never there. "Someone who was stubborn and lost, but insisted on continuing down the path he set for himself, stumbling along in the dark, along a path he could barely even see."


    "I''m not sure just how stubborn you are yet, but I can tell that you''re lost. And more importantly, just like him, you have a good heart. You might be a bit reckless, running before you even learned how to walk, but you''re certainly not malicious. Even as you doubled your efforts on me after failing the first time with your charm, you never turned hostile. Instead, you redoubled your efforts, trying to become even more inviting and warm¡ªnot forceful or demanding. That''s why I stopped, actually. You can tell a lot about a person by how they act when under stress, and even when your charm wasn''t working, you maintained a clear heart. You tried to win me over with kindness, not sheer power and force."


    He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Besides, if you keep going like this, you''re going to attract attention you''re not ready for. And trust me, kid, you don''t want that kind of trouble."


    A shiver ran down my spine at his words¡ªtrouble, huh. I should feel lucky that the first attention I attracted was from this old man¡ªat least he doesn''t seem to have any bad intentions. What if it had been someone else? Someone malicious? My mind flashed with thoughts of the world of cultivators described in those novels, of all the cruel and petty actions of those with great power.


    Imagine if I had accidentally offended some cruel, powerful cultivator with my actions just then. Hell, I''m lucky that I didn''t have any bad intentions toward this old man, or this could have gone a lot differently, and my journey would have been over before it even started.


    I couldn''t help but break out in a cold sweat at the realization of the danger I had inadvertently been putting myself in without thinking.


    "So what do I do?" I asked probingly.


    "First, go back and practice cultivating. Try to focus on removing those blockages throughout your body until you can circulate your Qi without any resistance," he said as he began to stand up. "Then we''ll go from there."


    "But how do I contact you?" I called out to his slowly departing back.


    "Where you found me the first time," he said without turning around. "Come here again on the first Sunday of November, and I''ll see if you''re worth teaching," he replied, continuing to shuffle unhurriedly away.


    "And don''t go drawing any attention to yourself before you''re ready to protect yourself," he added. Even though he was already over ten feet away, his voice rang clearly in my ear as if he were right in front of me, but strangely, no one else around even gave him a glance. I don''t get it. If that wasn''t a shout, then what was it¡ªsome sort of technique?


    "He didn''t even leave me his name," I muttered to myself. But I guess that''s how all the wise old masters are in the books, aren''t they? Mysteriousness seems to come part and parcel with this whole cultivation schtick.


    Actually, now that I think about it, he called it my Sea of Qi, didn''t he? That sounds straight out of some fantasy novel. I guess maybe I''m the odd one for calling it a core, but honestly, it already feels fantastical enough without labeling it a Sea of Qi. Still, if that''s what he called it, maybe there''s more to this than I understand.


    He''s right about one thing, though¡ªI shouldn''t keep drawing attention to myself before I''m able to protect myself. He might seem like a kind old man, but who knows if he has some sort of ulterior motive. He''s still a stranger at the end of the day. I''d be stupid to put too much faith in him.


    I should call it a day. I really did want to sell that last tablet, but I''ve already made plenty for today, and nothing good ever comes from being too greedy. I need to spend the rest of the day trying to break up those blockages throughout my body. Slowly but surely, like the old man said¡ªI need to walk before I can run. I just need to take it one step at a time.

 Chapter 7: Silver Strategy

    As I slowly began packing up my things, I thought to myself: So what caught that old man''s attention was all the mana I was radiating. I was being a lot more obvious than I had realized. I hadn''t considered what it might look like to someone who could also sense that energy. I hear what he''s saying¡ªobviously, I need to go back and work on my foundation¡ªbut if that''s all I do, what''s the point? I want to have at least something to show for my efforts. It''s not like a little practice is going to hurt anything, right?


    Still, he''s right about one thing: I don''t need to attract any more attention. This time it worked out, but what about next time? At the very least, I should stop using charm magic directly on people passing by. It would be more noticeable to other cultivators, and it could potentially cause offense to them.


    Since I don''t know how common other cultivators even are in this world, I need to stay low-key. Instead of using such an overt output of energy in public, practically broadcasting that I''m a weak newbie cultivator who can be picked on, what if I bought some more expensive premade trinkets¡ªjewelry, maybe¡ªand focused on imbuing them with mana to make them more inherently desirable?


    After all, I''ve read plenty of stories about spell arrays, formations, glyphs, and talismans. I should be able to do something like that with enough practice, right? That way, I can use mana in the privacy of my own apartment to avoid attracting any attention¡ªgetting some practice in while staying inconspicuous. But there''s no way I''m coming back to this flea market. If there''s one cultivator here, there might be two. So on the off chance there''s something about this place that tends to attract them, I need to stay well away from it.


    I guess I''ll try a discreet stall outside of the shopping center after all. I could use a small folding stool and just have a couple of trinkets on display. If security does get called eventually, I''ll just move on to the next store. It''s not like I haven''t seen similar things outside those stores before. I''m sure it would take at least twenty or thirty minutes before they start hounding me to leave, right?


    I''m going to have to grow a thicker skin and just put up with it. Maybe I can wear one of those flu masks and really cover up my appearance as much as possible.


    Eventually, I packed everything back into my truck and got back on the road. Speaking of trinkets, maybe I''ll stop off at Walmart and check out their jewelry department. They should have plenty of cheap silver rings with some glass stones and the like. If I can get them for under twenty bucks and sell them for sixty, that means just five rings a day will keep the bills away. So if I can sell at least twenty-five a week, I can afford to put in for some leave at work, which will give me a lot more time to cultivate.


    Besides, after finally having something exciting in my life to work towards, the idea of spending forty precious hours a week sitting and pretending to look busy¡ªwhile only having five hours of actual work to do¡ªsounds like actual torture. It''s a fate all of my fellow office workers are well aware of. Well, except for the unlucky few of them actually keeping the company afloat with hard work¡ªtoo bad all that hard work doesn''t reflect in their paycheck. Been there, done that. No thanks.


    As I pulled into the parking lot, I checked the time¡ªabout 12:45 PM¡ªand Walmart was certainly busy today. I guess it is Sunday, after all. But whatever. I think the jewelry department has its own register, right? Hopefully, they''re not too busy. After managing to find a lone parking spot nearly on the opposite side of the lot, I popped in my earbuds and strolled towards the entrance, lost in my own thoughts¡ªhalf on autopilot as I made my way into the store.


    Barely paying attention to where I was going, I suddenly found myself standing in front of the jewelry counter. And to my surprise, it was completely dead. I guess no one really shops for jewelry at Walmart, huh? I muttered under my breath, letting out a small sigh of relief.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Luckily, the jewelry was just as cheap as I''d imagined. Silver isn''t too expensive after all, and it''s not like these baubles weigh much. The first thing that caught my eye was actually just a plain silver band. No adornments¡ªjust a simple, unassuming loop of silver. But for some reason, it really called to me. If I''m practicing using my magic to... enchant¡ªyeah, let''s call it that¡ªthese rings, I can''t help but think of the storage rings in those novels.


    While I''m sure that''s way above my weight class at the moment, maybe I could inscribe something useful on it eventually. Who knows when inspiration might strike? Hell, maybe wearing it while I cultivate will help form some sort of bond with it or prepare it to be inscribed. Sure, I''m just talking out of my ass at this point, but it was only seventeen dollars, so I grabbed it.


    After that, I picked up a few more rings, necklaces, and bracelets¡ªtwenty-six pieces in total, including the plain silver band I was already wearing¡ªcoming to a grand total of $468. I handed over the $337 in cash I''d made earlier and cringed as I swiped my card to cover the remaining $131 balance for this junk.


    But you can''t make money without spending money. I''ll just think of this as an investment. After all, this gives me twenty-five pieces to sell. If I can flip them for at least sixty bucks each, that''s a decent margin¡ªmeaning I''ll clear a cool $1,000. That''ll more than cover my expenses for the week and make up for missing work.


    I''m definitely calling in on Monday with some bullshit excuse to take the week off. It''s not like I''ve taken any time off recently, and with how little work I actually do, I doubt anyone will even notice I''m gone. Plus, this job isn''t exactly high-paying, so even if they do notice and I end up needing to find something else, it shouldn''t be too hard to replace. I''ve got enough savings to stay afloat for a few months, even if I don''t make anything right away. Still, I need to focus on making this plan work before I start dreaming too big. Sure, if I get good at it, I could start charging a hundred bucks a piece and cut my workload in half. But for now, I''ll take it one step at a time.


    Eventually, I tossed the Walmart bag into the passenger seat and started the drive home. The silver band on my finger kept catching my eye. Who am I kidding? It''s just a plain ring. I smirked to myself¡ªalready imagining it becoming something way cooler than it had any right to be. But hey, dreaming big is half the fun.


    I zoned out for most of the drive, replaying that weird conversation with the old man in my head. His words bugged me, but they also made too much sense to ignore. I needed a stronger foundation before I got ahead of myself¡ªotherwise, I''d end up burning out. Still, that didn''t mean I had to stop everything. I wasn''t about to sit around meditating 24/7 without at least trying something new.


    By the time I got home, my apartment greeted me with its usual blend of cozy and claustrophobic. I kicked off my shoes and dropped the bag on the counter with a metallic clink. All that shiny silver staring back at me¡ªI had to resist the urge to dive right into trying to work my magic on it.


    But no. I knew better. First things first¡ªfoundation work. The old man had drilled that into me. So I headed to my little meditation corner¡ªaka the only clean part of my place¡ªand settled in for another round of trying not to screw up my energy flow.


    Sitting there, I started to focus inward, guiding the mana through my body like I''d been practicing. Torso and head? Doing alright. Limbs? Not so much. Still, there was progress. After who knows how long, I''d managed to chip away at some of those blockages in my arms and legs¡ªmaybe 25% closer to what the old man would consider decent. Not too shabby, right? At least I was getting better at controlling the flow.


    Eventually, I got up, stretched out the soreness, and looked over at that bag of jewelry. Tomorrow, I''d start messing around with the trinkets, maybe see if I could actually imbue them with something useful. I had this idea of running mana through them like they were an extension of me¡ªsort of refining them as I went. Maybe I''d even figure out how to store mana in them for a little while.


    But that was a challenge for future-me. I still had a lot to figure out. No point in burning out early by rushing things¡ªone step at a time, like the old man said.


    For now, though, I needed sleep. Tomorrow, the real experimentation would begin.

 Chapter 8: Mana and Metal

    My eyes suddenly snap open, and before I know it, I''m already sitting upright in bed. I glance over at the clock¡ª5:00 AM. Hmm? That''s weird. It''s an hour before my alarm usually goes off, but I feel wide awake. My thoughts drift back to yesterday''s meditation, when I was clearing away some of those blockages. Did I finally get a good night''s sleep? I can''t remember the last time I woke up this easily¡ªand without an alarm.


    Maybe it''s just the excitement. After all, I''m about to send in my totally-not-made-up excuse to my manager and take the rest of the week off. Too lazy to call the answering service like I''ve been told to do countless times, I just shoot an email directly to the inbox that receives the messages from them, skipping the middleman. Whatever¡ªthey''re already going to be annoyed that I''m taking time off. So what if they''re a little extra upset that I''m not following protocol? Phone calls are so archaic¡ªwho even calls anyone at this point?


    Stretching dramatically as I get out of bed, I let out a yawn and make a beeline for the kitchen. It''s still warm this morning, so I opt for iced coffee. And by that, I mean a premade carton of the stuff I keep in the fridge. As I shake the container and pour the gurgling contents into a glass over a few miserly cubes of ice, I see the telltale signs of an empty carton as the last remnants of froth come up to top off my glass.


    Tossing the now-empty carton into the trash, I grab a straw from the cabinet on my way over to the couch. I pick up the bag of jewelry off my desk as I plop down, setting it on the coffee table in front of me. Lazily sipping my iced coffee, I start brainstorming how I''m going to go about enchanting this jewelry. I furrow my brow slightly as I remember, belatedly, that I forgot to add a splash of sweetened creamer. Ready to drink, my ass¡ªthis isn''t nearly sweet enough.


    Too lazy to get back up and walk the five feet to my fridge, I suffer in silence as my thoughts drift back to my idea from last night. With no better ideas coming to mind, I figure "refining" the jewelry as if I were cultivating it is as good a place as any to start. Hopefully, some sort of noticeable change will occur, and if I''m lucky, it''ll create a kind of "core" of its own to hold a little mana. That''s the first step. Then I''ll figure out how to add instructions to the mana or whatever. In the back of my head, I''m thinking it''ll be something like programming, but there''s no point worrying about that now when there''s nothing in the ring to power it, right?


    After all, the whole point of this is for the ring to exude a natural charm on its own¡ªenough to make a passerby willing to fork over a ludicrous 3x markup for this cheap silver trash. I take another regretful sip of bitter coffee before finally setting the glass down and rummaging through the bag of baubles. A simple silver band with a silver rose charm set on it catches my eye. For some reason, I keep thinking back to all the novels where they talk about inscribing jade. I wonder if it has something to do with the properties of certain minerals.


    Somehow, I doubt these cheap, manufactured glass crystals will be as receptive. It''s the silver itself that will have to act as the housing for my magic. So what better to start with than the ring made entirely of silver¡ªwell, sterling silver, to be precise¡ªbut that''s beside the point.


    Trying my best to push away all the distracting internal monologue I''m prone to, I empty my mind and focus solely on the ring and my connection to it. I gently hold the ring between both hands, almost as if I''m using the silver as a contact to complete the circuit my arms are making.


    As my core begins pumping mana into my left arm, I force it to flow through the silver ring with the intent to "refine it," carving out an energy center within the ring. Meanwhile, I do my best to sense the energy on the other side, pulling it back through with my right hand. My intent is to only pull back clean energy, imagining the mana being strained and purified before it''s allowed back into my body.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    After all, I don''t need any more impurities or blockages¡ªI have plenty of those already. So I go slowly, taking care to avoid causing any unforeseen accidents. It might be more prudent to just let the energy go to waste, but with how precious little I have, and the time I''ve spent refining it, I want to recapture as much as I can.


    Especially given what that old man said about me leaking mana like a sieve¡ªmore than just the residual mana passing through the ring but not being used up in the process. There''s plenty of mana that doesn''t even enter the ring at all. I can feel it¡ªit''s the same as when I output mana normally, just hovering in the air. If left alone, all that energy would simply dissipate back into the atmosphere.


    Between what''s actually being used to refine the ring and what''s being lost to the air, it seems like I''m only capturing less than half of what I send out. But still, getting back even half is a hell of a lot better than getting none of it back. Thinking about it this way, I''m essentially able to take 100 points of mana and circulate it through the ring in an attempt to refine it.


    Fifty points get taken back in through my right hand, only to be sent through again in another cycle. I''m careful to keep reusing the same energy rather than pouring more mana into the ring from my core. I continue this recycling current: 50 becomes 25, becomes 12.5, 6.25, 3.12, 1.56, and when it reaches less than a single point, I can''t even tell if I''m feeling it anymore.


    Let''s say only half of the energy that makes it to the ring actually refines it. By the time I lose track of the energy, I''ve sent that same 100 points of mana through it seven times, so roughly 49.21 points should have gone into refining the ring. I can''t say I''m thrilled about wasting over half the energy I put into it¡ªbut I quickly put my disappointment aside as I check to see if this was all worth it.


    Again, I focus on sending mana through my left hand and into the ring, but this time, much slower. With the tiniest trickle I can manage, I gently push a little mana into the ring¡ªthis time with the intention of filling a small reservoir.


    I''m practically holding my breath at this point, pushing my focus to its limits, trying my best to feel the flow of mana into the ring and to sense any leaks. And from what I can tell, none at first. Then finally, a small "leak" appears. After checking it a few times, I note that it''s almost identical to the amount of mana I''m sending into the ring. When I stop the flow, the leak stops with it.


    I keep watching the ring closely, but no matter how long I wait, the energy doesn''t seem to go anywhere.


    "Yes!" I can''t help but shout, even though I''m completely alone at the crack of dawn. Slightly embarrassed by my outburst, I hope I didn''t wake any of my neighbors. But I couldn''t help it¡ªit actually worked! This ring is holding mana all by itself, and none of it''s leaking out. That must mean I was successful in storing the energy¡ªbut wait, how much energy?


    I focus again on the ring, slowly drawing the energy back from it to estimate how much I initially put in. Being careful not to let any energy slip away, I absorb it all back. I''m a little disappointed¡ªeven though it was my first attempt¡ªbecause I only absorbed about 25 points of mana back from the ring. Earlier, I clearly spent nearly 50 points charging it!


    I don''t think any was lost when I charged or absorbed it back, so where did it go? Does the mana that I store in the ring get converted into something else? Like how you have to convert AC to DC power to charge a battery, and then back to AC to use it again? Maybe it''s just losses in conversion¡ªthat seems like the best explanation.


    So for every 2 points of mana I put into the ring, I can only expect to get 1 point back. Not to mention the 100 points of mana I spent just creating the core in the ring in the first place. This is turning out to be a lot more trouble than I expected. One hundred fifty points of mana, just for 25 points of usable energy. That''s a 1:6 payout ratio¡ªbut I guess I should be happier that I succeeded at all, right? This is still better than it all blowing up in my face.


    I need to stop being so negative and just take it all in stride. I''m still new at this. It''s only going to get better from here. I''ve got to stay positive and keep working toward my goal. What''s my goal, you ask? Never having to go back to work again!

 Chapter 8: Mana and Metal

    My eyes suddenly snap open, and before I know it, I''m already sitting upright in bed. I glance over at the clock¡ª5:00 AM. Hmm? That''s weird. It''s an hour before my alarm usually goes off, but I feel wide awake. My thoughts drift back to yesterday''s meditation, when I was clearing away some of those blockages. Did I finally get a good night''s sleep? I can''t remember the last time I woke up this easily¡ªand without an alarm.


    Maybe it''s just the excitement. After all, I''m about to send in my totally-not-made-up excuse to my manager and take the rest of the week off. Too lazy to call the answering service like I''ve been told to do countless times, I just shoot an email directly to the inbox that receives the messages from them, skipping the middleman. Whatever¡ªthey''re already going to be annoyed that I''m taking time off. So what if they''re a little extra upset that I''m not following protocol? Phone calls are so archaic¡ªwho even calls anyone at this point?


    Stretching dramatically as I get out of bed, I let out a yawn and make a beeline for the kitchen. It''s still warm this morning, so I opt for iced coffee. And by that, I mean a premade carton of the stuff I keep in the fridge. As I shake the container and pour the gurgling contents into a glass over a few miserly cubes of ice, I see the telltale signs of an empty carton as the last remnants of froth come up to top off my glass.


    Tossing the now-empty carton into the trash, I grab a straw from the cabinet on my way over to the couch. I pick up the bag of jewelry off my desk as I plop down, setting it on the coffee table in front of me. Lazily sipping my iced coffee, I start brainstorming how I''m going to go about enchanting this jewelry. I furrow my brow slightly as I remember, belatedly, that I forgot to add a splash of sweetened creamer. Ready to drink, my ass¡ªthis isn''t nearly sweet enough.


    Too lazy to get back up and walk the five feet to my fridge, I suffer in silence as my thoughts drift back to my idea from last night. With no better ideas coming to mind, I figure "refining" the jewelry as if I were cultivating it is as good a place as any to start. Hopefully, some sort of noticeable change will occur, and if I''m lucky, it''ll create a kind of "core" of its own to hold a little mana. That''s the first step. Then I''ll figure out how to add instructions to the mana or whatever. In the back of my head, I''m thinking it''ll be something like programming, but there''s no point worrying about that now when there''s nothing in the ring to power it, right?


    After all, the whole point of this is for the ring to exude a natural charm on its own¡ªenough to make a passerby willing to fork over a ludicrous 3x markup for this cheap silver trash. I take another regretful sip of bitter coffee before finally setting the glass down and rummaging through the bag of baubles. A simple silver band with a silver rose charm set on it catches my eye. For some reason, I keep thinking back to all the novels where they talk about inscribing jade. I wonder if it has something to do with the properties of certain minerals.


    Somehow, I doubt these cheap, manufactured glass crystals will be as receptive. It''s the silver itself that will have to act as the housing for my magic. So what better to start with than the ring made entirely of silver¡ªwell, sterling silver, to be precise¡ªbut that''s beside the point.


    Trying my best to push away all the distracting internal monologue I''m prone to, I empty my mind and focus solely on the ring and my connection to it. I gently hold the ring between both hands, almost as if I''m using the silver as a contact to complete the circuit my arms are making.


    As my core begins pumping mana into my left arm, I force it to flow through the silver ring with the intent to "refine it," carving out an energy center within the ring. Meanwhile, I do my best to sense the energy on the other side, pulling it back through with my right hand. My intent is to only pull back clean energy, imagining the mana being strained and purified before it''s allowed back into my body.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    After all, I don''t need any more impurities or blockages¡ªI have plenty of those already. So I go slowly, taking care to avoid causing any unforeseen accidents. It might be more prudent to just let the energy go to waste, but with how precious little I have, and the time I''ve spent refining it, I want to recapture as much as I can.


    Especially given what that old man said about me leaking mana like a sieve¡ªmore than just the residual mana passing through the ring but not being used up in the process. There''s plenty of mana that doesn''t even enter the ring at all. I can feel it¡ªit''s the same as when I output mana normally, just hovering in the air. If left alone, all that energy would simply dissipate back into the atmosphere.


    Between what''s actually being used to refine the ring and what''s being lost to the air, it seems like I''m only capturing less than half of what I send out. But still, getting back even half is a hell of a lot better than getting none of it back. Thinking about it this way, I''m essentially able to take 100 points of mana and circulate it through the ring in an attempt to refine it.


    Fifty points get taken back in through my right hand, only to be sent through again in another cycle. I''m careful to keep reusing the same energy rather than pouring more mana into the ring from my core. I continue this recycling current: 50 becomes 25, becomes 12.5, 6.25, 3.12, 1.56, and when it reaches less than a single point, I can''t even tell if I''m feeling it anymore.


    Let''s say only half of the energy that makes it to the ring actually refines it. By the time I lose track of the energy, I''ve sent that same 100 points of mana through it seven times, so roughly 49.21 points should have gone into refining the ring. I can''t say I''m thrilled about wasting over half the energy I put into it¡ªbut I quickly put my disappointment aside as I check to see if this was all worth it.


    Again, I focus on sending mana through my left hand and into the ring, but this time, much slower. With the tiniest trickle I can manage, I gently push a little mana into the ring¡ªthis time with the intention of filling a small reservoir.


    I''m practically holding my breath at this point, pushing my focus to its limits, trying my best to feel the flow of mana into the ring and to sense any leaks. And from what I can tell, none at first. Then finally, a small "leak" appears. After checking it a few times, I note that it''s almost identical to the amount of mana I''m sending into the ring. When I stop the flow, the leak stops with it.


    I keep watching the ring closely, but no matter how long I wait, the energy doesn''t seem to go anywhere.


    "Yes!" I can''t help but shout, even though I''m completely alone at the crack of dawn. Slightly embarrassed by my outburst, I hope I didn''t wake any of my neighbors. But I couldn''t help it¡ªit actually worked! This ring is holding mana all by itself, and none of it''s leaking out. That must mean I was successful in storing the energy¡ªbut wait, how much energy?


    I focus again on the ring, slowly drawing the energy back from it to estimate how much I initially put in. Being careful not to let any energy slip away, I absorb it all back. I''m a little disappointed¡ªeven though it was my first attempt¡ªbecause I only absorbed about 25 points of mana back from the ring. Earlier, I clearly spent nearly 50 points charging it!


    I don''t think any was lost when I charged or absorbed it back, so where did it go? Does the mana that I store in the ring get converted into something else? Like how you have to convert AC to DC power to charge a battery, and then back to AC to use it again? Maybe it''s just losses in conversion¡ªthat seems like the best explanation.


    So for every 2 points of mana I put into the ring, I can only expect to get 1 point back. Not to mention the 100 points of mana I spent just creating the core in the ring in the first place. This is turning out to be a lot more trouble than I expected. One hundred fifty points of mana, just for 25 points of usable energy. That''s a 1:6 payout ratio¡ªbut I guess I should be happier that I succeeded at all, right? This is still better than it all blowing up in my face.


    I need to stop being so negative and just take it all in stride. I''m still new at this. It''s only going to get better from here. I''ve got to stay positive and keep working toward my goal. What''s my goal, you ask? Never having to go back to work again!

 Chapter 9: Encounters and Unease

    I gently place the ring on the table, a small smile forming despite the mild disappointment. The energy losses aren''t ideal, but I have to admit, this is a tangible step forward. Besides, it''s bound to get easier the more I practice. The important thing is, I''ve proven storing mana in an object is possible, and if I can do it once, I can do it again.


    I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the next round of ring enchantments. Five rings¡ªthat''s the goal for today, each one a little more perfect than the last. With one down, I''ve got four more to go.


    Another sip of coffee¡ªstill bitter, but at least it''s cold. This next ring is a little more intricate than the last, with a finer, woven band and a small translucent blue gem set into it. Well¡ªI say gem, but it''s really just a cheap piece of glass.


    I hold the ring between my fingers, focusing on the flow of mana. Slowly, I begin the process of passing energy through the ring, this time with even more intent. It takes longer than the first ring did, but I manage to lose less mana with each pass, meaning this ring should be even more refined than the first one.


    One way to find out¡ªI carefully release the smallest trickle of mana I can manage, slowly filling the minuscule reservoir of this ring. I watch carefully for any signs of leaks, and as soon as I notice one begin, I cut the flow entirely. This time, I can feel it¡ªeven without absorbing the energy back to check, I know this was another success.


    "Two down, and three to go," I mutter to myself.


    Hours pass as the morning light grows brighter, finally making its way into the living room from my kitchen window. Before I know it, I''m done. A neat arrangement of five completed rings sits dazzlingly on the coffee table in front of me. Perhaps it''s just my imagination, but even without any other "spell" written onto them, the mana in the rings seems to cause them to shine more brightly.


    I lean back on the couch, stretching as I glance toward the clock¡ª7:00 AM. Normally, that''s when my workday would be starting, but here I am, playing hooky. My core feels exhausted, but it''s a good kind of exhaustion. The kind that comes with a hard day''s work, with something to actually show for it. I glance at the rings gleaming on the table, but in my mind, they shimmer with more than just polished silver¡ªthey glint with the promise of something bigger, something... lucrative.


    Just as I''m about to grab some breakfast, my phone starts to ring. I glance down at the screen¡ªan unfamiliar number. I hesitate for a moment, but wondering if it''s work-related, I answer.


    "Hello?"


    "Hey, Nathan. It''s Greg."


    Greg? The flea market guy from yesterday? I rub my eyes, trying to push away the last remnants of sleep. We''d chatted a bit¡ªmostly about random junk he had for sale, nothing serious. Honestly, I''d forgotten he even asked for my number. "What''s up, man?" I ask, stifling a yawn.


    "Hey, listen," Greg says, his voice carrying that awkward, please-don''t-hang-up-on-me tone. "I know we just met, but I''ve got a situation. My truck broke down on the side of the road, and I''m kinda stuck with this delivery. I remember you mentioned you had a truck... Any chance you could help me out? I was supposed to deliver this antique dresser to a client this morning, and I promised I''d get it there on time."


    I raise an eyebrow. "A dresser delivery? Didn''t know flea market vendors did deliveries."


    Greg chuckles nervously. "Yeah, well... money talks, right? I''d planned on getting it towed, but I''d rather not deal with the hassle if I don''t have to. I could really use your help."


    He must have gotten a pretty good offer, especially since he sounds so desperate. Who calls someone they just met to ask for a favor like this? Talk about thick skin.


    Not hearing me respond right away, Greg continues, "Look, I know I''m asking for a lot, especially since we barely know each other, but I''ll make it worth your while. If you can help me out, I''ll pay you $100¡ªand I''ll owe you a favor."


    That got my attention. "You must have gotten a really sweet offer on that dresser, huh? Alright, text me your location, and I''ll head your way now."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "Thanks, man, you''re a lifesaver!" Greg replies, clearly relieved.


    After hanging up the phone and tossing on some clothes, I heard my phone buzz again. Checking the screen, Greg had already sent me the address. He must really want to impress this client¡ªthey''ve got to be loaded.


    On my way out the door, I scoop up the five rings I''d been working on and drop them into my pocket. After all, you never know when I might have some downtime to work on that inscription for the spell formation.


    I shake my head with a wry smile as I walk out the door. Funny, I called out of work to avoid leaving the house, and yet, right at 7:00 on the dot, out I go. Some things are just inevitable, I guess.


    The drive is uneventful¡ªa mix of sleepy suburbs and the occasional strip of shops passing by as I mindlessly follow the GPS directions. My mind keeps wandering back to those rings in my pocket. Five rings, all successfully enchanted to hold mana. Each one a tiny triumph, even if they aren''t perfect. It''s strange how normal this is starting to feel. Not long ago, I was just a guy stuck in a rut, staring at spreadsheets in a cubicle. Now I''m enchanting objects and planning to use spell formations. If anyone had told me this a year ago, I would''ve laughed them out of the room.


    I pull into the street where Greg''s supposed to be, and his truck isn''t hard to spot¡ªan old, beat-up thing sitting lopsided on the side of the road with its hood up. Greg is pacing next to it, phone to his ear. When I pull up and park, he finally notices me, waving with a look of relief.


    "Thanks for coming, man," he says, ending his call and shoving his phone into his pocket. "I was just explaining the delay to the client."


    "No problem," I reply, glancing at his truck. "What happened?"


    "Engine just died out of nowhere," he says with a sigh. "I was hoping it''d be something simple, but it looks like I''m gonna have to get it towed."


    I give him a sympathetic look. "Well, should we get that dresser moved?"


    "You''re right," Greg says with a nod. "The client''s just ten minutes up the road. Let''s get it delivered, and I''ll worry about the truck after."


    We head to the back of his truck, where he lowers the tailgate, revealing the dresser. It''s an old, intricately carved piece of furniture¡ªdark wood with brass handles, definitely antique. It has that old-money vibe. I can''t help but wonder where he even found this thing. It''s bigger than I expected, and I glance at Greg, curious as to how he planned on moving this solo.


    "You weren''t planning on carrying this by yourself, were you?" I ask, half-joking.


    Greg chuckles nervously. "Yeah, not my best idea. But the client''s paying top dollar. I really didn''t have much choice."


    We start shifting the dresser from his truck to mine. It''s heavier than it looks¡ªso almost without thinking, and despite my better judgment, I start circulating mana through my body to make the task more manageable. The difference is shocking. I guess all that meditation and practice refining rings is paying off. What started as a backbreaking task quickly becomes heavy but manageable. Soon enough, we''ve got the dresser loaded and tied down.


    "Perfect! You drive, and I''ll navigate. The sooner we get this thing off my hands, the better," Greg says, still sounding a little on edge.


    The drive over to the client''s place is smooth, though Greg is clearly anxious, constantly checking his phone and muttering to himself. I can''t help but wonder how much they''re paying him and why he''s so nervous. What''s so special about this dresser?


    As we get closer to the client''s house, the scenery shifts¡ªthe houses grow larger and more spaced out, with immaculate lawns and high-end cars parked in the driveways. Greg directs me to a massive gated property on the edge of the neighborhood.


    "Wow," I say as I take in the towering gates. "You weren''t kidding about them being loaded."


    "Yeah, they''ve got money to burn," Greg replies, his tone a mix of excitement and nerves. "The place belongs to some big-shot art dealer. I just need to drop this off, get paid, and we''re golden."


    The gate opens slowly as we approach, and I drive through, following the long driveway up to a massive mansion. Within moments of parking, a sharply dressed man steps out of the front door, waving us over.


    Greg and I unload the dresser and carry it to the entrance. The client, an older man with sharp eyes and an unsettlingly smooth smile, watches us carefully as we set the dresser down in the foyer. He inspects it with keen interest, his fingers tracing the carved edges.


    "Excellent work," the man says in a cultured voice. "You''ve delivered it in perfect condition."


    Greg grins, visibly relieved. "Thank you, sir. I''m glad you''re satisfied."


    The man pulls out a checkbook and writes out a check, handing it over to Greg. "As promised¡ªand a little extra for your trouble."


    Greg''s eyes widen as he glances at the check. He quickly stammers out a thank you, shaking the man''s hand enthusiastically.


    As we head back to the truck, I can''t shake the strange tension in the air. Something about that client felt... off. His gaze lingered too long, his smile too sharp. But I brush it off as my overactive imagination. Still, the unease sticks with me as we drive away from the mansion.


    Once we''re back on the main road, Greg lets out a long sigh of relief. "Man, that went better than I expected. I owe you big time, Nathan."


    "Glad I could help," I reply, though my mind is still on that client. Something about him didn''t sit right.


    "Let''s grab some lunch," Greg suggests. "My treat, of course."


    I nod, trying to shake the unease. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"


    As we head toward a local diner, I catch a glimpse of something in the side mirror. For just a moment, I swear I see a figure standing in the distance, watching us. But when I blink, it''s gone.


    I shake my head and focus on the road. I''m probably just imagining things... right?

 Chapter 10: Whispers of Power

    After a free lunch courtesy of Greg, I dropped him off at his truck to wait for the tow he''d called during lunch. With a quick goodbye, I headed home¡ª$100 richer for my trouble. I was anxious to return to inscribing the rings, but I couldn¡¯t shake the eerie feeling lingering from Greg¡¯s unsettling client.


    His sharp smile had felt distinctly... predatory. Maybe my imagination was just running wild. After all, what were the chances of meeting two mysterious old cultivators back to back after going my entire life without ever running into any before?


    Before I knew it, I was back at my apartment complex. I pulled into the crowded lot and lightly jogged up the stairs. My body felt lighter than usual, almost like my physical constitution had improved without any extra effort on my part¡ªwell, any physical effort anyway. It¡¯s not like I had started working out. Was it all thanks to meditation? It was hard to believe that sitting still could be this effective. I could practically imagine the jealousy from all those people sweating their asses off to lose weight, while I was slimming down without any effort at all.


    As I made my way to my apartment, I suddenly got this nagging sense of unease, like something was off. Am I losing my mind, or did something change during my walk to the apartment? It¡¯s only about 150 feet from my truck to the front door, but why did I feel such an odd sense of urgency getting back home? It¡¯s not like me to jog up stairs, even if I suddenly became fit¡ªI¡¯ve always been a slow walker, so why would that suddenly change?


    I turned around and started walking back to my truck¡ªalmost without thinking. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was off, though I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger on why. But the closer I got to my truck, the stronger my unease grew, as if this gnawing sense of danger began to creep back into my chest.


    Frowning, I paused in front of my truck, looking for anything out of place. ¡°What am I even doing right now?¡± I muttered to myself, seeing nothing unusual from the outside. Purely out of instinct, I opened the passenger door and started rummaging around, and suddenly came across a curious little brooch, sitting in the door compartment.


    A brooch? I don¡¯t remember driving any grandmas around lately, or anyone for that matter, really. It¡¯s not like I have some popping social life, and I¡¯m constantly jetting around town with passengers¡ªpassengers?


    And then it hit me: when Greg and I were loading that dresser into my truck, one of the drawers had slid open. I remembered thinking he was lucky it didn''t slam into the side of my truck¡ªhis buyer wouldn¡¯t have been very happy about that. Greg had reached over to close it, and at the time, I hadn¡¯t thought much of it. But now I remembered¡ªhis hand had dipped into his right pocket just as he shut the drawer. Had this brooch fallen out of the dresser? Greg must have forgotten to check the drawers before he loaded it into his truck.


    But then how did it end up here?


    It must have slipped from Greg''s pocket while he was climbing into my truck. That would explain how it ended up in the passenger door compartment, I guess it really doesn''t pay to wear baggy old cargo shorts hanging off your ass huh Greg? As I held the brooch, something about it just felt¡­ off. It was heavier than I expected, and the dark stone in the center looked very¡ªlifelike, almost alive even. I don¡¯t quite know how to explain it, I wasn¡¯t sure if it was just my imagination, but for a brief moment, I swear I had seen faint swirls deep beneath the surface.


    The silver edges around the stone twisted into strange, intricate patterns¡ªalmost like coiled serpents. The longer I held it, the colder it got¡ªI¡¯m definitely not just imagining it, this thing has been sitting in a 90¡ã truck for a few hours, but it feels like it¡¯s been sitting in an ice box!


    A chill crept up my spine. This brooch¡ªfelt similar to the rings I had just spent all morning refining. Similar, but a lot... deeper, I guess is how I¡¯d describe it. If the rings I made were as deep as a kiddy pool, this brooch felt more like a lake.


    I could tell this was something special, maybe even something related to cultivation, an artifact of some sort¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t help feeling creeped out too. How could a piece of jewelry feel so damn sinister?


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to do. I mean, it¡¯s not like I can just toss this thing out. After all, it practically fell into my lap just as I started cultivating¡ªand I¡¯ve read enough novels to know not to look a fortuitous encounter in the mouth¡­ err, well, something like that anyway.


    And I¡¯m sure as hell not returning it to Greg just so he can hawk it for a couple of bucks at the flea market. I saw the zeros on that check¡ªhe made out like a bandit selling that dresser to that creepy old geezer. He didn''t even know this thing existed a couple of hours ago. Besides, finders keepers, right?


    Well one thing was clear¡ªthere''s just too much that I don¡¯t know. To be completely honest, I don¡¯t even want to take this thing inside my apartment. Call me paranoid, but this feels like the kind of thing that is going to end up haunting my dreams. That¡¯s a hard pass from me. But I feel weird leaving it out in the truck too. I¡¯ve seen more than one homeless guy creeping around out here after dark. Somehow with my luck, this would be the night someone finally breaks into my truck, so that¡¯s out too.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Wait, I know what to do with it¡ªI totally forgot about that! Walking around my truck and towards the side gate that led to a small walkway between the block wall that divided our apartment complex from the neighboring lot, I started walking toward the back. It''s not exactly private, but it¡¯s not public either. It¡¯s basically just wide enough to walk through. I can''t imagine it¡¯s used for much of anything, other than possibly serving the AC units of these apartments on the bottom story.


    Call me paranoid, but I always liked the idea of having a few ounces of gold on hand, but given the astronomical prices, I ended up settling for silver. At roughly $30 an ounce, it was a hell of a lot more realistic for me to grab a coin or two every paycheck than it was to buy any real amount of gold. I managed to put together 40 coins, which just so happens to be how many quarters come in a roll¡ªbefore I started worrying about where to put them.


    I mean, it¡¯s quite a lot of money¡ªto me at least, ~$1200 in silver, as long as prices didn¡¯t fall. A nice chunk to have on hand in case of a rainy day, but at the same time, between the fact that the apartment manager has a spare key to my place¡ªnot to mention the possibility of my apartment simply being broken into¡ªI wanted to think of a better place to store it. But after reading all the horror stories online about the ironically very insecure nature of those safety deposit boxes at banks, at the few banks that even offer that service anymore¡ªnot to mention the fact that it¡¯s just one warrant away from being seized¡ªI came up with more¡­ unconventional means of storage.


    A very realistic-looking, hollowed-out rock, sitting out back behind my apartments¡ªif, somehow despite all the trouble I went through to make it look inconspicuous¡ªhell, I even go back here under the guise of ¡°smoking¡± and I don''t even smoke! If despite all that, it somehow still gets stolen, well I¡¯ll just call that my bad luck then.


    Making sure the coast was clear and getting out my decoy cigarette¡ªlike I said, paranoid¡ªI quickly opened up the secret compartment, and after happily confirming the silver was right where I left it, I tossed in the brooch and put everything back into place.


    Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt a certain sense of¡­ relief after sealing that ¡°rock¡± back up, almost as if it was acting as a barrier between me and that brooch. Yes, you read that right, a grown man is scared of a brooch. Sue me¡ªmy head¡¯s been a mess ever since discovering this whole cultivation thing. I mean, hell, if magic is real, why can¡¯t evil soul-sucking brooches be too? All I know is I¡¯m not touching that thing until I know what I¡¯m doing.


    And what better way to learn than by doing? I feel like refining those rings really opened up my mind and changed the way I was looking at cultivation. When I was imagining those rings as an extension of myself while refining them, maybe because they were so much simpler, it was just way easier to really understand what I needed to do to clear away all those blockages and form a core to house the mana.


    But the more I thought about it, I¡¯m really not that much different from those rings. If I stop looking at things in the macro, and just focus on the micro, one step at a time¡ªthis cultivation thing really isn¡¯t all that complicated at all. Really it''s just a matter of patience.


    It was already 3:00 PM, and ideally, I¡¯d like to have that all done by tonight. I feel like finishing those inscriptions will give me even more insight into this whole cultivation thing.


    Returning back to my apartment, I set to work. I had been thinking about how I was going to tackle this all day, but it was surprisingly much easier than I thought it would be. Refining the rings proved to be the difficult aspect of this, but inscribing the spell? Honestly, it was even easier than programming¡ªwith that, there are all these rules you have to keep in mind, all these pre-existing structures and concepts you have to learn, not to mention syntax.


    But with this? It¡¯s just pure, unadulterated intent¡ªI don¡¯t want to oversimplify it, but if you can clearly form the intent in your mind, and visualize what you want it to do¡­ no, command it what you want it to do¡ªand it does. I thought back to the night with the candle, with the flames, how exhilarating that had been. No more holding back, no concern over what others thought about things. I didn¡¯t need anyone else''s opinion, and I didn¡¯t want it either. This was all about me, and what I wanted¡ªand what I wanted was for the ring¡ªor rather, the mana inside it¡ªto obey, and it did.


    I wordlessly commanded the mana inside the ring to be beautiful, and so it was. Perhaps I had gone completely insane¡ªbut in that moment, I felt like a God. I could feel the structures of a spell click into place as my intent flowed into the ring, as a formless, unseen inscription appeared within the ring.


    I¡¯ve never been a particularly religious man, but suddenly a passage from a book I had barely even skimmed came unbidden into my mind: ¡®And God said, ¡°Let there be light,¡± and there was light.¡¯


    And just as suddenly as that pride had come into my heart, it fled, scared by the sudden looming shadows cast by the perpetual monument that is my self-loathing. Me, a god... as if. What¡¯s wrong with me? Some minor success managing to come up with that inscription, and all of a sudden I think I¡¯m untouchable? I don¡¯t even know where that came from¡­ it¡¯s not like me at all.


    But maybe that¡¯s a good thing. Do I even like who I am? Is that even who I want to be? Isn¡¯t the whole point of cultivating to better myself, to go against the heavens, to eventually become a god? So what if I¡¯m cocky, so what if I¡¯m proud? That old me is dead. I¡¯ve been living after my namesake for far too long¡ªperpetually unchanging, like a stone.


    While everyone around me grew up, got married, had children¡ªlived their lives¡ªall I¡¯ve grown, is older. What have I ever been doing all this time? What have I been making of myself? When was the last time I even dared to try? I¡¯m tired of making excuses, tired of putting things off, of leaving it for another day.


    Today is that day. Suddenly, I finally understood¡ªthis is what I had been waiting for. This is why I had been biding my time. Somehow, I knew, deep in my heart, this is what I was always meant to be. This is what I had always been meant to do.


    To cultivate!

 Chapter 11: The First Breakthrough

    If you had told me that even cultivating¡ªwhich is practically the kind of magic I¡¯ve dreamed about for as long as I can remember¡ªcould sometimes be as boring as filing taxes at the end of the fiscal year, I would have told you to ease off on the anime. Because you''re spouting the kind of embarrassing nonsense only a teenager ¡°with a dark power concealed in one of his arms¡± could pull off.


    But you wouldn¡¯t have been wrong. After trying to ride the high from my earlier success with the inscription of those rings, and my brief¡ªthough unfortunate¡ªturn to megalomania, I came back down to reality. Like any high, what followed was the tedious and dull practice that is ¡°cultivation.¡±


    Chalk it up to my severely lacking work ethic, but after completing the fourth major cycle¡ª24 very monotonous minor cycles¡ªthat means I¡¯ve been at this for over... two hours, apparently. It¡¯s strange because that¡¯s the kind of time I¡¯d willingly lose to any of my hobbies. Weirdly, when I was inscribing those rings or even earlier when refining them, I didn¡¯t feel nearly as bored as I do now.


    With a defeated sigh, I got up and stretched my aching legs. Do I even need to be sitting like that to meditate? Can¡¯t I just do it on the couch? Belatedly, I realize I¡¯ve never even tried. With a groan and more than a couple of concerning popping sounds from my knees, I made my way to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water and figure out why this is so astoundingly boring.


    I pulled a glass from the counter and picked up the filtered pitcher. As I began to slowly pour, I became entranced by the glass filling up, the water gurgling gently. I squinted in confusion, tilting my head to one side¡ªlike a dog suddenly confronted by something beyond comprehension.


    Even as the glass overflowed, spilling onto the counter, my only reaction was to part my lips, trying to voice the words dancing on the tip of my tongue. It wasn¡¯t until the pitcher was completely empty, and I stood there frozen in the pouring motion, that I noticed the pool of water edging off the counter, trickling onto the floor with a soft pat, pat.


    I closed my eyes and subconsciously tilted my ear toward the floor, listening to the gentle patter of water droplets onto the cheap linoleum. Even as the drops burst into infinitesimally smaller particles, forming a mist invisible to the naked eye, I stood there, the faint wisps of an idea tormenting me. I patiently tried to piece together the puzzle set before me, feeling the knowledge fading, destined to be lost. But then, the final piece clicked into place.


    That¡¯s when it hit me¡ªI smiled as I lifted the overfilled glass, careless as water spilled over the edges onto the counter and floor. Of course. How could I possibly be satisfied with cultivating when I didn¡¯t even have a goal to cultivate toward?


    Beyond the abstract concept of ¡°strength,¡± I needed milestones, markers to show progress. How infuriating would a road trip be if you didn¡¯t know how far you¡¯d traveled or how much further you had left? Of course I was bored and frustrated. What do all cultivation novels have in common, and what was I sorely lacking?The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    A cultivation system.


    Major realms, minor realms, half-step this, peak of the fourth realm that. I needed a way to track my cultivation, a system to gauge my strength, especially in relation to everyone else. The words and terms didn¡¯t matter; I just needed a structured approach. My RPG-polluted little mind needed an XP bar.


    Chugging the glass of water and ignoring the mess I¡¯d made, I walked back into the living room, shoving the coffee table aside to make room before plopping onto my worn-out couch. I didn¡¯t need to overthink this. I had a repertoire of made-up-sounding nonsense floating around in my head already.


    There was some consensus among the broader genre, but it varied greatly between stories. Who cares? This was just for my own benefit. If I learned the ¡°real terms¡± later on, I could adjust. Just like I called my dantian my ¡°core¡± and qi ¡°mana,¡± this was about giving me goalposts.


    Here¡¯s how it¡¯ll work: Nine major realms, each with nine minor realms. The first three minor realms would be the beginning stage, the middle three the middle stage, and the last three the late stage.


    As for the major realm names? No point getting ahead of myself. I¡¯ll name the first three: The first realm is the Gathering Stage¡ªwhere it all begins, gathering mana. After that is the Condensation Realm¡ªif mana in its base form is like air, then in this stage, you condense it into a liquid, increasing your strength by an entire "realm." I couldn¡¯t help but smile at my own terrible pun.


    For the third realm, I¡¯ll call it the Crystallization Realm. Beyond condensing, you shape the mana into solid constructs. This will be the turning point, the zenith of the first three realms, before taking a qualitative leap to a middle-stage cultivator.


    Now that I¡¯d named those first three stages, I had a clear goal to cultivate toward. More than just signposts, I knew what I wanted my mana to do at each stage of growth. Somehow, I¡¯d spoken truth into existence.


    As soon as those words left my mouth, I felt weightless, freed from the mundane burdens of this world. A feeling of euphoria surged through me as I ascended, breaking through to the very first major realm.


    I didn¡¯t need anyone to tell me what this was. Instinctively, I knew. I had broken through to the first realm: Stage 1 of the Gathering Realm. If the average human was a level 0 cultivator, forever bound by human limits, I had officially stepped into the world of cultivation¡ªas a Realm 1, Stage 1 Gathering cultivator.


    And gather I did. Taking advantage of the momentum, I drew mana into my body at a rate that completely dwarfed what I had done previously. I cranked up my focus, solidifying the foundation of my breakthrough, even without fully understanding it.


    One thing was for sure¡ªthinking back to that mysterious old man at the flea market. If I was going to build a tower, slow and steady wins the race. I didn¡¯t want to become a living reenactment of that haphazard tower of keychains he had warned me about.


    Subconsciously, I had already begun drawing inspiration from the sturdy tower he built in my mind as I continued solidifying my foundation. That old man was definitely not simple. Even now, I don¡¯t fully understand why, but the more I studied that tower in my mind, the more I realized there was something indescribably profound about it.


    With so much focus on carefully stabilizing my cultivation, afraid any lack of care could lead to a very tragic end. I didn¡¯t realize until much later in the night, that even on the couch I had already subconsciously pulled up my legs into that same uncomfortable classic meditation pose.

 Chapter 12: A Price to Pay

    Before I realize it, I¡¯m awake again¡ªfor the second morning in a row, and without any difficulty at all, which is completely out of character for a night owl like me. I hop out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, before busying myself with familiar morning routines. Now fueled in part by caffeine and in part by my growing urge to fleece some unsuspecting¡­ I mean, make a tidy little profit on some beautiful silver rings. I gather up my wares and, after locking the door behind me, make my way down to my truck.


    Ignoring the urge to check on my little stash of silver¡ªand the newfound ominous brooch¡ªI patiently wait for my truck to warm up before finally pulling out onto the road for the short drive down to the shopping center. I can¡¯t help but feel excited. Maybe it¡¯s from my breakthrough last night, or maybe it¡¯s just the prospect of finally saying goodbye to my 9-5 career, but I¡¯m in a really great mood today.


    My phone begins to buzz in the cupholder. Glancing down at the screen, I see a familiar name: Greg. I can¡¯t help but inwardly sigh as I swipe on the screen to pick up the call and put him on speakerphone, before turning my attention back to the road.


    ¡°Yo, two mornings in a row now? Did I accidentally sign up for a morning wake-up call or something?¡± I say with a chuckle.


    ¡°Ahh, yeah, sorry, man. I hate to keep bugging you first thing in the morning,¡± Greg replies after an awkward pause. ¡°But I¡¯ve been waiting to ask you something since last night.¡±


    Frowning a bit to myself, I respond, ¡°Hope you''re not in need of another moving helper today. I actually already had plans this morning.¡±


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that,¡± he says with a forced laugh. ¡°It¡¯s just, after I got home last night, I realized I misplaced something.¡±


    Putting on my blinker and pulling up to the turn into the shopping center, I quickly check behind me for any cops before running that stale red light. ¡°Hey, Nathan, you still there?¡± Greg finally says.


    ¡°You caught me while I was driving,¡± I reply. ¡°Sorry, you said something about misplacing something?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I mean, if it¡¯s bad timing, you can give me a call back later,¡± he says, sounding a bit deflated.


    ¡°Nah, all good. Just pulled into a parking spot,¡± I say as I throw my truck into park. ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve got my full attention. So what did you lose?¡±


    ¡°Well, actually, it was an old brooch.¡± My heart practically sinks at the word ¡°brooch.¡±


    Obviously unable to see how shocked I must look over the phone, Greg continues. ¡°I picked it up at the flea market. It¡¯s not really worth much¡ªjust some glass stone¡ªbut it looked exactly like the one my mother misplaced years ago. It would really make her day to have it back, even if it¡¯s not the exact one. After we parted ways, I realized I couldn¡¯t find it.¡±


    I try to play it cool. ¡°Oh, a brooch, huh? You don¡¯t really see old-fashioned stuff like that anymore. Are you sure you had it on you while we were moving that dresser?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I definitely remember having it on me that day. I was planning on taking it over to her right after I was done with the delivery, before my truck broke down and all that.¡± He¡¯s starting to sound quite flustered over some ¡°worthless glass brooch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sorry, man. I don¡¯t remember seeing anything like that.¡± No way I¡¯m giving you back that brooch, dude. No matter what kind of story you cook up, you clearly just found out about that thing when it fell out of the dresser yesterday. Stop trying to blow smoke up my ass.


    ¡°Aww, man, it¡¯s really important to me. Would you mind double-checking your truck, just to make sure I didn¡¯t accidentally drop it while we were moving that dresser?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no problem, Greg. I¡¯ll give it a once-over. If I find it, I¡¯ll be sure to give you a call,¡± I lie through my teeth. I know exactly where that brooch is: right in my secret stash¡ªand that¡¯s exactly where it¡¯s going to stay until I¡¯m ready to tackle it. It clearly has some sort of power related to cultivation. No way I¡¯m handing it back over just for this dude to sell for another fat profit, like he did with that dresser.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°I¡¯d really appreciate it, Nathan. Hopefully, you''re able to find it,¡± he says with a defeated sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve looked everywhere. I don¡¯t know where else it could be unless I just dropped it on the road.¡±


    ¡°Yikes. I hope not, man. It¡¯d be gone for good if that was the case,¡± I say. And as far as you''re concerned, that might as well be the case. ¡°Well, you never know. Maybe try checking everywhere one more time, just in case,¡± I add, ¡°helpfully.¡±


    After getting off the phone, I start to wonder if Greg has some sort of talent for cultivation too. Did he sense something in the brooch when he picked it up? Is that why he sounded so desperate on the phone? Well, whatever the case, his bad luck is my windfall, I think, as I start walking toward a busier area of the shopping center, wondering where I should set up.


    As I navigate my way through the congested parking lot, I eventually find a nice little parking island with plenty of foot traffic. It¡¯s practically begging to be my new spot.


    Ignoring the sidelong looks I get as I set up my ¡°table,¡± which is really just a folding footstool draped with an old shirt, I open up its twin brother, folding stool number two, and take a seat. After all the work I put into these, the last thing I want is for someone to snatch them up and run off, so I start small and decide to just set out one ring for now.


    Admittedly, it¡¯s an odd setup, but the ¡°booth¡± isn¡¯t the real star of the show¡ªit¡¯s the ring. And after silently commanding the ring to attract, I wait patiently, sizing up potential customers as they pass by. I also try to keep an eye on the ring''s ¡°charge.¡± I know from testing it last night that it doesn¡¯t take much juice at all to keep this spell running, so the mana I stored in the ring should be more than enough. But, call it first-day jitters, I can¡¯t help but stay hyper-vigilant. Who could have known my worry was completely unnecessary?


    ¡°Excuse me, how much are you selling this ring for?¡±


    Shifting my gaze over to the older woman who just asked, I put on a bright smile before responding. ¡°This ring here is one of a kind. I¡¯m honestly a bit sad to let it go, but I really could use the money. I can¡¯t take less than $200 for it.¡±


    Shameless. That¡¯s really the only word for it¡ªthe audacity to try and sell a cheap $20 silver ring for over ten times that amount. Initially, I had only wanted sixty, but I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m cultivating ¡°the truth¡± or gall¡ªbecause ever since I broke through, I can¡¯t help but feel like pushing the envelope.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    Three simple words¡ªbarely even a sentence, really¡ªbut it¡¯s enough to send me into a daze. I don¡¯t even remember responding as I wordlessly take the money and send off the smiling woman with a wave, pinching my leg.


    Ouch. Definitely not dreaming. Did I just undersell myself? I don¡¯t know what I was expecting¡ªanger, rejection, haggling¡ªanything but someone immediately agreeing to my outrageous demands and happily walking back to her car, even forgetting to do the shopping she came here for.


    Well, it¡¯s not like me to look a gift horse in the mouth. What a weird phrase. What does that even mean, anyway? Whatever. I need to strike while the iron is hot.


    Or¡­ not so hot, as it turns out. I practically had to recount the money in my pocket to believe I sold a ring after the next series of rejections. But it¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t expect that. After my first success, I jacked up the price by another $400 just to try my luck.


    I might not have made any more sales, but I didn¡¯t walk away empty-handed. Smiling as I received my 12th rejection¡ªa whole dozen now¡ªI couldn''t help but think: What a collection, lucky me. It turns out magic isn¡¯t all-powerful¡ªwell, at least mine¡¯s not¡ªyet. The charm on the ring is definitely working. People are interested in it; they¡¯re just pissed off with the sky-high prices I¡¯ve been setting.


    But the more I lower the price, the milder the rejections have become. Low and behold, with that last rejection, I could practically see it on their face¡ªthey were really close to buying that ring. And do you know what the last price I set for it was? $220, just $20 more than what I asked for the first ring.


    You see, it turns out¡ªinsultingly high¡ªborderline criminal price gouging of ten times the ring¡¯s original price is turning out to be the absolute maximum price I can convince someone to buy with my current talent. Which is great news for me¡ªthat¡¯s way more than the $60 I was originally going to sell them for.


    That¡¯s more than enough because now, instead of having to sell five rings a day to keep up with my bills, I just need to sell five a week. Which means a lot less work for me and a lot more spare time for cultivating. Hell, maybe I need to go back to that flea market sooner than later. I could probably sell enough rings in an afternoon to keep me afloat for a whole month.


    Uh oh. I think I really pushed it on the expiration date for that milk I used in my coffee this morning. My stomach begins to churn uncomfortably. Desperate not to drive home with a pants full of shit, I decisively abandon my footstools, taking only my precious inventory as I run towards a nearby shop to ruin their bathroom.

 Chapter 13: Robbed

    As I dry my hands on the crunchy brown bark that passes for paper towels in a public restroom¡ªI¡¯m actually a bit thankful that they even have them. I get that they aren¡¯t as eco-friendly as hand dryers, but considering what we usually burn to generate the electricity to power those things, I can''t say I see the difference.


    Musing about how many paper towels I¡¯d have to go through in my lifetime to even match the carbon footprint of a single private flight from any of the tens of millions of wealthy elites of the world, I slowly meander down the lengthy side alley to get back to the main parking lot of the shopping center before being stopped dead in my tracks by the most malicious voice I can ever recall hearing.


    "Hand it over, brat. I know you stole my brooch."


    A chill runs down my spine as I slowly begin to turn around. "What are you talking about? You probably just misplaced it. And how did you even find me anyway..." my voice suddenly trails off as I turn to face him.


    "Don''t play stupid, kid. You might have fooled your buddy, but you¡¯re not fooling me."


    Definitely not Greg, but I did recognize this guy from somewhere.


    ¡°You''re that guy I helped deliver the dresser to,¡± I said aloud as I finally remembered where I knew him from.


    ¡°And you''re that brat who was driving the truck that left with my brooch,¡± he replied coldly.


    "Your brooch? Greg called me about some brooch he thought he may have dropped in my truck, but¡­ wait, why do you think I stole it?"


    "Listen, I think you''ve got the wrong idea. I didn¡¯t touch anything while we were in your house. I mean, you were there the entire time. How would I have had time to take anything from you?"


    The old man narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if I was telling the truth. I put on my best impression of innocence.


    To be fair, nothing I said was a lie. I definitely didn¡¯t steal anything from this old man. In fact, I wouldn¡¯t even say I stole anything at all. I just happened to find a brooch in my truck after helping Greg move that antique. Sure, I didn¡¯t admit to Greg that I found it, but that could hardly be considered stealing. Who¡¯s to say that brooch was even the one he was talking about?


    Maybe that brooch fell off some old granny I picked up at the bus stop during a rainstorm. Of course, that was absolute bullshit, unless I¡¯d somehow done that while sleepwalking.


    But if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯m confident in, it¡¯s lying to myself. So if even I believe me, what choice does this old geezer have?


    "Hmm, let¡¯s say I believe you. If you don¡¯t have my brooch, then who does? Certainly not your little friend¡ªI was quite... persuasive when talking to him."


    "Even if you ask me, who am I supposed to ask? Sorry, but if that¡¯s all, I¡¯ll be going now."


    As I turned to leave, to my horror, that creepy old fart was already right in front of me again.


    "Not so fast. I never said you could go," he said, taking slow, measured steps toward me until we were just an arm¡¯s length apart.


    "I believe you didn¡¯t have anything to do with the brooch, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll be walking away empty-handed. Chalk it up to your own bad luck for running into me, but I¡¯ll be taking those low-grade spiritual treasures in your pocket."


    You wouldn¡¯t think my eyes could get any wider than they already were after seeing his sudden, shocking display of speed. But apparently, they could, because he continued.


    "Surprised? Just because your cultivation is too low to sense these things without holding them doesn¡¯t mean I have the same problem. I spotted them the moment I laid eyes on you when you delivered my dresser,¡± he paused before continuing.


    ¡°Initially, I didn¡¯t have the intention to rob a small fry like you, because I was in a good mood¡ªthinking I¡¯d soon get my hands on that brooch I¡¯ve been searching for. But now my mood¡¯s taken a turn for the worse. So unless you want another demonstration of my power, I suggest you do what¡¯s best for you and hand over those rings," he spat coldly, crossing his arms behind his back with a look of disdain.


    You¡¯d think I¡¯d be a little more upset about being robbed, but I was too preoccupied with what he just said. Low-grade spiritual treasures? The rings I practically stumbled into making, with a technique I pulled right out of my ass?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Perhaps unpleased with my apparent daze or mistaking my lack of response, his eyes took on a dangerous glint as he practically growled, "Should I take it that you want to do this the hard way?"


    "Whoa, whoa, no need for that,¡± I said, suddenly snapping back to reality. ¡°Listen, I can tell when I¡¯m outmatched. I¡¯m not looking for a fight here. I was just a little dazed. This is my first time being robbed, to be honest," I said, forcing out a small laugh.


    Perhaps it was my imagination, but I almost saw what might pass for a smirk on his triangular cartoon-villain-shaped face as I continued.


    "I just found it all a bit ironic, that¡¯s all. After all, the whole reason I was carrying these things with me is because I was afraid to leave them somewhere, lest they be stolen without me even noticing. Well, that didn¡¯t happen. Hard not to notice it happening right now, after all."


    As I reached into my pocket and fished out the four rings, I continued.


    "To be honest, I couldn¡¯t even figure out how to use these things. I was getting frustrated and considering selling them. It¡¯s probably for the best that a real cultivator like you takes them. Seems like a waste, sitting in my hands since I can¡¯t do anything with them."


    It wasn¡¯t just my imagination anymore¡ªthat was definitely a smirk on his face. Not the friendly kind, though. It was the smug, looking-down-on-the-world smirk that only the rich seem to possess.


    You could practically hear the superiority in his voice as he scoffed. "Of course, they¡¯re better off in my hands. Someone like you could barely even be called a cultivator with your measly amount of power. But I will say, you¡¯re a lot smarter than I gave you credit for. You know when to give in to your betters," he said, taking the rings I had proffered.


    I squeezed out a wry chuckle as a self-deprecating smirk appeared on my face. "What can I say? A man can¡¯t be bothered with politics when he can¡¯t even afford bread."


    In truth, part of what I was saying was how I really felt deep down, or at least how I did until recently. But even if I was determined to cultivate now, there¡¯s no point in bashing my head against a brick wall.


    And if I tried to fight this guy, that would be the outcome. I couldn¡¯t even see him move¡ªhe practically teleported from my point of view.


    ¡°Speaking of which, based on where you live, not only are you a powerful cultivator, but it looks like you¡¯re a great businessman as well. How about tossing a few coins my way? After all, chump change like what you paid for that dresser is a life-changing amount to me.¡±


    He started to play with his newly acquired toys as his grin grew wider, as did the oppressive musk of smug douchebaggery.


    But seeing that I managed to catch his interest, or at least the attention of his ego, I continued.


    ¡°Even though I don¡¯t have any talent for cultivation, who¡¯s to say I couldn¡¯t get lucky and stumble across more rings? And since they¡¯re no good for me, I¡¯d bring them right to the man who could unlock their full potential¡ªthe man who generously gave a few bucks to someone down on his luck."


    This time, he let out a full-on cackle. It was the kind of overdramatic, obviously evil laugh you¡¯d think only a wicked witch would have, not an actual person.


    A cold sweat started dripping down my back as my nerves got the better of me, despite the front I was putting on. Before he finally responded, between bouts of laughter.


    "Kid, you have got to have one of the thickest skins I¡¯ve ever seen. I¡¯ve never heard of someone asking a robber for compensation in my entire life. This is too funny."


    To be honest, I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth. I can¡¯t blame him for laughing. I couldn¡¯t tell you where I got the gall from¡ªcall it my newfound pride as a cultivator.


    But even knowing that I still had that apparently valuable brooch he wanted and was only losing out on a handful of cheap silver, I couldn¡¯t help but want to get something out of this rich, old bastard for the rings he was robbing me of.


    After all, he really did seem to believe I didn¡¯t rob him, but he still robbed me for no reason.


    "Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re playing at, kid. I¡¯ve been at this a lot longer than you have. I know you¡¯re just trying to get back at me since you¡¯re too weak to fight back.


    But you¡¯re right¡ªI wouldn¡¯t even miss a few thousand dollars. So I¡¯ll tell you what: take this loose change I have on me," he said as he smoothly reached into his pocket and tossed a billfold onto the ground in front of me before continuing, "and on the off chance you do come across more spiritual treasures like this, bring them to me, and I¡¯ll make it worth your while¡ªespecially if it¡¯s any news about that brooch. Understand?"


    Shamelessly bending down to scoop up the billfold, I responded with a beaming smile, "You¡¯ve got yourself a deal."


    The old man gave me one last look I could only describe as incredulous before finally disappearing from view.


    As I stood there counting out the bills, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little pleased with myself. Sure, I¡¯d been "robbed"¡ªof about $80 worth of silver and a couple of hours of my time. But in return, this rich old geezer had tossed a little over $2,300 my way. I guess he wasn¡¯t kidding when he said he wouldn¡¯t miss a few grand.


    Hard to believe being shameless pays so well. After all, you know what they say: a tree that doesn''t bend can only break.


    But enjoy yourself while you can, you smug old fart. Once I get stronger, don''t think I''ll forget to settle the score between us.


    I''ll be taking a lot more than a few thousand dollars from you then, I consoled myself as a slightly evil smile crept across my face while I walked back toward my truck.


    Suddenly, I no longer had a reason to be here, with no rings left to sell. Despite what I told myself, strength really does seem to be all that matters at the end of the day.


    Might makes right after all, and if I was stronger, that old fuck would have been the one that had to bend. I''m not going to make any progress by being timid.


    I think it''s about time I go and find out just what that brooch is all about.

 Chapter 14: In Plain Sight

    I surreptitiously slip into the narrow alley behind my apartment, intent on retrieving the brooch and using whatever means I have at my disposal to strengthen my cultivation. Just because I ¡°sold¡± those rings¡ªand received money for them¡ªdoesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m happy with how that turned out.


    To put it bluntly, I was robbed by some rich asshole who tossed me a few bucks on a whim. But what was I supposed to do... fight him? It was clear how that would go, and while I might be stubborn, I''m not stupid. Things can be replaced, but my life can¡¯t.


    But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m just going to let it go. I collect the brooch from its hiding spot under an inconspicuous rock, making sure no one¡¯s around. Glancing up at my kitchen¡¯s second-story window, I wish I could simply leap up there¡ªbut I can''t. Not yet, at least.


    I need to get stronger, to protect myself, to be able to do what I want. Now that I have some money and know how to make more, the first thing tomorrow, I¡¯ll send in my resignation. With $2,600 in cash, $1,200 in silver coins, and another $1,000 in my checking account¡ªthat¡¯s $4,800 altogether¡ªand if I really pinch my pennies, that¡¯ll get me through nearly five months if I have to.


    Working would only waste my time. No matter what I have to do, by hook or by crook, I¡¯ll find a way to pay the bills. I need to focus on what really matters¡ªcultivating.


    Once in my apartment, I move through the dimly lit living room without turning on the lights. I pause briefly at the kitchen window, making a silent promise to myself to get strong enough to come and go from there as I please. It¡¯s a strange goal, maybe, but isn¡¯t that how all powerful cultivators in those stories come and go? Miraculously leaping from balconies? I may not have a balcony, but a second-story window will do, right?


    Besides, there''s still that brick wall about as tall as a first story. So maybe that dream isn''t so far off, after all. Who knows?


    Plopping down onto my bed, I kick off my shoes, cross my legs, and scoot toward the center. Holding the brooch in one hand, I rest my other hand on my knee, ignoring the strange sensations it gives off. I focus on trying to "peer inside it."


    There has to be something to this creepy thing. There¡¯s definitely power, but the question is¡­ how do I access it?


    And then, I see it¡ªa dimly lit ¡°room,¡± if you could call it that, filled with a faint haze, almost like morning fog. It¡¯s hard to make out the sparse contents, but a few things are scattered about. Intrigued, I keep focusing inward, and gradually, the fog recedes.


    I feel myself synchronizing with the brooch. The room gradually becomes clear. There are a few piles of unrecognizable things¡ªat least to me. They look like dusty old tomes, some small stones that seem to glow faintly, and a short sword leaning in the corner. There¡¯s even some rotted food and a few jugs of who knows what, still corked and collecting dust.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    My interest is drawn to one of those glowing stones, each no larger than a small pebble and as smooth as a river stone. Focusing on it, I feel a weird connection. Almost as if I could touch it. In fact, it feels like it''s in my hand; I¡¯d swear I was holding it. But then, the stone vanishes from my view, as if an unseen hand plucked it from the pile.


    I tighten my grip on what should be an empty hand¡ªonly to find I''m actually holding that very stone I¡¯d been staring at moments ago.


    Wait¡ªcould this mean¡­ is this a storage ring¡­ or rather, a storage brooch?


    My mind reels in shock, realizing the treasure I¡¯d found and left outside with a worthless pile of silver¡ªat least worthless compared to this fantastic brooch! There''s no way I¡¯ll let it out of my sight again.


    But even as I think that, my mind wanders back to that ruthless old fool who robbed me. What if I¡¯d had the brooch then? He¡¯d have taken it too, even if I fought back. What could I have done?


    If only there were a way to access this remotely¡ªwait, remotely? Isn¡¯t that basically what this brooch is doing? Well¡­ how remote can it get?


    I try to test the brooch and its hidden space, but despite my best efforts, I''m met with failure after failure. I quickly conclude that if I''m not physically holding the brooch, I can''t retrieve anything. And unless I¡¯m holding the brooch and touching what I want to store, I can¡¯t put it in, either.


    Frustration seeps in. This magical brooch¡ªthis storage brooch¡ªwhat good is it if it makes me an even bigger target for thieves? That old man found me once; who¡¯s to say he couldn¡¯t find me again? And who knows how many other cultivators could be around in this town?


    Agitated, I kick the wall, only to yelp as pain shoots through my foot. I¡¯d forgotten I¡¯d taken my shoes off. Who kicks a wall barefoot? As I hop around, trying to bounce the pain away, I realize it doesn¡¯t hurt as much as it should. Maybe my modest achievements in cultivation have made me slightly more durable, though my wall didn¡¯t fare as well. Frowning at the dent, I mutter, ¡°That¡¯s definitely coming out of my deposit.¡±


    Wait¡­ If I can¡¯t take the brooch with me, I¡¯ll leave it at home. But if I¡¯m worried about it at home, I just need to hide it! I¡¯ll keep it hidden in plain sight.


    I rummage around under the bathroom sink until I find the old electrical outlet I¡¯d replaced. I learned the hard way that asking the apartment manager for repairs meant they¡¯d show up whenever they felt like it¡ªusually when it was least convenient. So, I¡¯d just turned off the breaker and handled it myself when the outlet went out.


    The wiring was fine, but the switch that reset it was broken. You get what you pay for, I guess, and the landlord here is pretty cheap¡­ wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she got it secondhand!


    Using a steak knife from the kitchen, I carefully cut out a rectangle in the wall where my foot made its dent, then installed my ¡°new¡± outlet over it. I took it back off, set the brooch inside the wall, and reinstalled the outlet, grinning. No one would be the wiser.


    And don¡¯t think I forgot about masking the brooch¡¯s energy. Like I¡¯d learned with storing it in that hollowed out rock, I tested a few things, and it turned out that placing an overturned ceramic mug over it blocked its energy from being sensed.


    Satisfied with my new hiding spot, I turn my attention to the shiny stone I¡¯d retrieved from the brooch. If this isn¡¯t one of those fabled spirit stones, then I¡¯ll change my last name! If ¡°Nathan Stone¡± can¡¯t pick out an extraordinary stone, what right do I have to be a ¡°Stone¡± at all? I might as well be Nathan Wood.

 Chapter 15: Exchange of Power

    Finally turning on the lights in my living room, I sit down on the couch with a drink in one hand and what I assume is a spirit stone in the other. Taking a sip of my soda, I set it down and focus on the stone.


    Carefully holding it in both hands, much like I did with the rings I was refining before¡ªthough now, in reverse¡ªI slowly begin drawing out the energy stored within. To my surprise, it¡¯s far easier than storing mana in silver. If charging one of those rings felt like trying to inflate a bike tire with a crappy hand pump, removing the energy is like pressing on the valve stem and watching with glee as the air escapes.


    I greedily absorb the energy, savoring it¡ªit¡¯s so much richer than what I manage to pull from the air alone. I feel like a man who has finally found an oasis in the desert, drinking to my heart''s content.


    As I consume the mana within the stone, I feel my cultivation soaring. Each minor stage of every realm must have its own, even more subtle steps. I sense the distinctions in my power as I quickly move past what must be the ¡°half step¡± of the first stage, easily leaving it behind without a single bottleneck.


    I don¡¯t even hesitate as I slam into the boundary between this stage and the next, surging forward and firmly planting my feet in the second stage of the first realm. My pace only begins to slow at the half-step mark. Opening my eyes in shock, I realize the solid weight of the spirit stone in my hand has suddenly disappeared.


    Looking down at my hand, there¡¯s no trace of the stone left. It¡¯s been thoroughly consumed. I suppose calling it a ¡°stone¡± is a bit of a misnomer¡ªit¡¯s more like a solidified mass of mana than a true stone. What a strange phenomenon.


    Completely forgetting the advice of the old man I met at the flea market, and hungry for more quick gains, I focus my thoughts back on the brooch, ready to pull out another spirit stone. After all, there was a huge pile of them¡­ what¡¯s the harm in taking one more?


    But as I scan the interior space again and again, I realize the pile of spirit stones is nowhere in sight!


    What the hell is going on here? I think, breaking into a cold sweat. I subconsciously lean forward in desperation, as if that might somehow pull me into the brooch¡¯s interior. Old books? Check. Pile of rotted food and dusty jugs? Check. Shortsword?... Wait¡­ shortsword¡­ poof¡ªmy hand instinctively pulls the blade into my grip. Its solid weight brings me small comfort before I return to my desperate search.


    Giant pile of spirit stones? NOPE! Where did my easy ticket to cultivation go? I shout out loud, standing up in frustration. Plopping back onto the couch, I toss the brooch onto the table and stare down at the beautiful blade in my hands.


    Am I crazy? I didn¡¯t just imagine those spirit stones, right? Focusing on my cultivation again to reassure myself¡ªno, I¡¯m definitely still at the half-step of the second stage of the first realm¡ªboy, that¡¯s a mouthful. And look at this sword in my hands! It¡¯s not like I just bought it somewhere. This is as real as it gets.


    Wait, where¡¯s the sheath? What am I supposed to do with a shortsword without something to store it in? I mutter, briefly forgetting that I could just store it back in the brooch. Setting the shortsword down on the coffee table, I pick up my soda, take a big swig, and crush the empty can, tossing it onto the floor in frustration.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    With a deep sigh, I wonder where exactly my fortune could have gone. Does someone else have access to the same space? But if so, why didn¡¯t they take anything else after noticing me removing a spirit stone?


    I could practically kick myself. I mean, I have two hands; couldn¡¯t I have at least taken two?


    Wait¡ªI suddenly come to a disturbing thought¡ªis this brooch¡­ haunted?


    A shiver runs down my spine, goosebumps prickling my arms as I shake my head, trying to unthink that thought. But glancing down at the brooch again, I can¡¯t shake it. It did give me a creepy feeling when I first found it, and if cultivation is real¡­ ghosts could be, too, right?


    But why would a ghost need spirit stones¡ªwait¡ªSpirit stones? That¡¯s a weird coincidence. What are we cultivating, after all? Our bodies, our minds¡ªand, of course, our spirits. Is it possible the brooch¡¯s previous owner cultivated such a powerful spirit that they were able to seal themselves inside?


    And what¡ªwere they living off those spirit stones? Did I just steal from a ghost? Wait, can you even steal from a ghost? How can you own something if you¡¯re dead¡­


    Whatever. I¡¯m getting ahead of myself. If there is a spirit in that brooch, why didn¡¯t they talk to me? Could it be that they can¡¯t? Or maybe they¡¯re afraid. A real cultivator could probably do some serious harm to a ghost, right? He doesn¡¯t know who I am; he just knows I touched one of those spirit stones.


    The spirit left everything else alone, but hid those spirit stones somehow. Well, so much for keeping my valuables safe in the brooch. With that in mind, I clear out the books as well¡ªwho knows, they might contain something useful. I leave the rotten food and dusty jugs where they are, though; I¡¯m not in a hurry to catch anything from those ancient remains.


    Unfortunately, my new sword and the sudden burst of cultivation are all I get out of this. The book is complete gibberish, written in a language I¡¯ve never seen. Even after an hour online, I can¡¯t find anything remotely resembling this script.


    So for now, reading these books is out. I toss them back into the brooch. If there is a spirit in there that wants to hide them, oh well¡ªI can¡¯t read them anyway. And I have nowhere to keep them in my apartment. The sword, though? I¡¯m definitely keeping that¡ªeven if carrying it outside will attract all kinds of unwanted attention.


    Not like I can just walk around openly with a sword these days, can I? Thinking back to my repeated use of the brooch, I start to get the faintest understanding of the spatial magic involved.


    It¡¯s profoundly difficult to grasp, but the more I approach it from different angles, the more I realize that maybe the hardest part is interacting with another dimension. Perhaps, focusing on just the space within my dimension would be more manageable.


    After all, I still haven¡¯t solved the problem I thought up earlier. I need a way to store and retrieve things without carrying the brooch. And frankly, it¡¯s not even that safe to keep valuables in there now anyway. But what if I could call things to myself remotely?


    As I experiment, my eyes keep getting drawn to the crushed can on the floor. Exchanging things, huh? Almost like a swap. I mean, I can take this can to the recycling center and get a nickel for my trouble.


    That can¡¯s worth a nickel¡ªI can exchange it¡ªfor a nickel.


    That thought keeps circling in my mind as I hold the can. I try to focus on this intent: I have a can, but I want a nickel. Somewhere, there¡¯s a place with a nickel that wants cans.


    As I crush the can in my fist, hard enough to make my hand ache, the pain helps me focus, and the words finally come to me.


    Exchange.


    And it happens. With a satisfying ¡°pop,¡± the can vanishes, replaced by a nickel. I blink in shock.


    Holy shit, it actually worked! I jump to my feet, feeling the blood rush to my face, my heart hammering in my ears. Anyone watching would think I¡¯m insane, staring at a single nickel so intently. But it¡¯s not just a nickel¡ªit¡¯s my lucky nickel.


    Selling rings? Flea markets? What a joke! If I need money, I have a million ways to make it now. I rarely use cash, and I never bother keeping the change. The jingle of coins always annoyed me. But now, I look at this nickel with the warmth only a mother would show her child.


    I¡¯m definitely quitting my job tomorrow.