He pulled a book free and began to read.
Lyn's expression stiffened slightly.
It is... basically empty.
"Rifts are a mysterious phenomenon that can't be explained, and the effects vary," he read in dissatisfaction.
He gritted his teeth in annoyance
"Fifteen contribution tokens... this doesn't pay off. At the very least, I should see something about Mortal Fragments, how to form them, or how to use them properly," he muttered, expression calm, patience thinning beneath it.
He kept searching.
Lyn passed section after section when his eyes suddenly brightened.
"Mortal Fragments and Combat Theory?"
He paused.
At the moment, he had no fighting techniques. No structured knowledge. Nothing reliable to fall back on.
I hadn't had any opportunity to research this… until now.
It had been about three months since the incident. A collapsing ore chunk struck his head. When he woke, everything from before was gone. Only instincts and fragments remained.
He opened the book and sat down on the floor, legs crossed, posture relaxed.
"Mortal Fragments are basic techniques built around fragments of law. Instead of using a single shard in a simple way, a Mortal Fragment is a structured pattern that combines Heavenly Shards, Truth Carvings, and the Vessel Sea into a repeatable method," he murmured while reading.
He scratched his head, eyes calm, thinking.
The book rested on his lap.
So… repetition in a strict order. Knowing how to use shards and when to use them.
He stopped and corrected himself mentally.
It is structured. Chains of actions, perhaps. Steps between steps. If someone understands shards and law well enough, they can create their own fragment techniques.
He continued reading.
As expected… the more complex the fragment, the harder it is to execute. More steps, higher risk, but also greater strength. The same technique can behave differently in different hands. Truth Carvings matter. Mind matters.
His fingers tightened slightly on the page.
One needs to think fast to align each chain. That is why notion-type shards are valuable.
Just as he was about to read further, the words vanished.
Lyn frowned.
One hour already?
He stood, dusted off his clothes, and made his way back toward the three doors. The formation released its grip on his vision as he exited.
He nodded politely to the disciple at the front desk and stepped outside.
The cold air felt clearer than when he entered. He then slowly made his way back to his house.
I have barely any tokens now. This is not good at all. And I cannot go to the mine because it is temporarily closed after what happened.
He frowned slightly, but his expression soon returned to calm.
He reached his house, opened the door, and closed it behind him.
I should organize my thoughts and decide what I should do...After all, men required goals. Without a purpose in life, a dream to grasp, they were doomed from the start. These lost souls were cast aside, left to battle for someone else's vision. A free man was no man without a goal.
He frowned slightly, then stepped to the sink and splashed water onto his face.
Every house in the village had a simple formation built into it.
By focusing on an intent such as water, the formation would draw and deliver it through linked space formations. Unused water was teleported away, thus no drainage was needed.
The sink existed only because the formation restricted summoning to one fixed point inside the house. Toilets and other utilities followed the same principle.
I need a new job.
He paused, then corrected himself.
No… If I want to climb in this World, I should probably be training instead of thinking about work. But then… what about tokens?
Mindless people only think about food and drink. But how can anyone live in this world like that? It's nearly impossible. To eat, one must either hunt for oneself or pay with tokens.
Danger was everywhere. Even your own eyes could betray you someday.
He leaned against the wall for a moment and let the quiet settle.
He was not panicking, but the emptiness in his pockets, the sealed mine, the quiet uncertainty… they pressed faintly against his chest like a dull weight.
He exhaled and sat at the small table, his face still wet from the water.
I need to move. Sitting here and waiting will only stack problems.
For a short moment, he gazed inward, mentally entering his Vessel Realm.
The golden star hovered in the endless sky quietly in the distance. Silent. Watching, offering nothing, and demanding nothing. It simply existed.
He rested his elbows on the table and tapped his fingers lightly.
Income… training… information… survival.
He lined the priorities in his mind like pieces on a board.
He could not go back to mining, and contribution tokens were not infinite; he knew that much.
He learned more about Mortal Fragments. They required patience, shards, stability, and time—none of which he had, aside from patience.
He closed his eyes briefly.
I need something stable enough, so I do not starve… and flexible enough to study, train, and observe this World.
His jaw tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened again.
He stood, wiped the water from his face with a worn cloth, and smoothed the folds of his robes.
Then suddenly, a thought clicked.
What if I… resell information?
He sat down on his bed, fingers tapping lightly against his knee as his thoughts continued shaping themselves.
Yes… yes. Resell cheap information to clueless outer disciples and wandering Dao Chosen. This would work
All he needed to do was buy low-tier information shards from the market. Cheap, common things anyone could access if they bothered to think.
He had one information shard already. He could start. The hard part was finding the right people.
Or perhaps… not that hard.
He needed distance.
Hazelrun was too familiar. Too many people remembered his face. If attention ever started gathering around the ashrain event and the golden symbols disaster, staying here would be stupidity.
He rubbed his temples.
No job, no tokens, no stability
Hazelrun was too poor.
Blackburg was too structured.
Argindale had eyes.
Tortileburn was far.
Emberbar however…
A trade town near the border of the territory. People passing through. Temporary workers. Loose tokens. Weak oversight. Gullible people and more. Enough movement that if he caused trouble, he could disappear into another face the next day.
Good enough
He stood up once more and started to pack.
Bread. Dried strips of meat. A coarse cloak. A spare shirt and his notebook.
He stored them in his Vessel Realm through his shard gate.
The shards floated quietly in the air when he checked them.
He paused at the doorway
Hazelrun was tolerable, quiet, and predictable. A place where breathing did not feel like competing with someone else.
He closed the door.
Three hundred villagers[1] lived behind him.
They would not remember him for long either way.
He stood at the edge of Hazelrun's main path longer than he intended.
The road to Emberbar was no village stroll. With the mine closed and the sect tightening its grip, traveling alone would be stupid.
Beasts were one thing; he could possibly outsmart them and hide or run away. People, however, were an entirely different matter altogether. Hungry people, Silent Hands, and bored Dao Chosen looking for excuses.
He clicked his tongue softly.
Walking alone would take nearly a month or more.
Emberbar was the closest town.
He most definitely did not feel like walking for a month or more; he needed a caravan.
He turned back toward the old rest square near the trade route. Even if Hazelrun was small, caravans still passed occasionally. Now that the mine was silent, they were fewer but not gone.
Lyn waited patiently.
A group finally appeared near sunset.
Six wagons. Two ancient[2] rank beasts pulling each. Massive, red-scaled creatures resembling crocodiles.
A small sect escort walked alongside. Light Path mostly, with a few Earth Path Dao Chosen to stabilize terrain when needed. Outer disciples, Rank Two and Rank Three at most.
He approached the caravan master, a thick-armed man with a shaved head and a face that trusted money more than kindness.
"I want to head to Emberbar," Lyn said calmly.
The man looked him over.
The youth seemed no older than nineteen, slim rather than broad, yet there was nothing fragile about him.
Pale skin spoke of long roads beneath tired skies, and long dark hair framed a face that rarely offered warmth. Thick eyebrows gave his expression a constant gravity, as if his thoughts never rested.
Then the man reached his eyes and paused.
Dark ancient green. They carried patience that did not belong to someone his age, an old weight that steadied them in a way most grown men did not possess.
For the briefest moment, something tightened in the caravan master's chest, as if the air itself had grown heavy.
"Emberbar?" he muttered. "Contribution?"
Lyn handed over what he could spare.
Not much.
The man pretended to frown and shook his head. "That does not even pay for travel. You will be dead weight."
In truth, the amount was just enough.
He wanted to see how the boy reacted. People revealed themselves when pressed.
He watched and saw no reaction from Lyn.
Lyn was calm to the point of indifference, staring at the caravan master as if he were already dead. The caravan master stiffened, growing even more alert.
The caravan master studied Lyn briefly as a flicker of pity surfaced—he had seen that look before, in himself.
This child...
"I can scout. Light Path."
The caravan master's eyes scanned him from head to toe. Light Path meant sight, sight meant reduced risk, and reduced risk meant lives and tokens saved.
Risk. Cost. Gain. He weighed each carefully, as he always did. He lingered on Lyn longer than was customary, as if silently debating each possible outcome.
Eventually, the man exhaled.
"Second wagon column. If something happens, you move when I say."
Lyn nodded once.
The caravan master held his gaze for another heartbeat before continuing, "Now go and report to the rear quartermaster; he is in the third wagon."
Such professionalism usually reassured him. This time, it merely kept the unease steady instead of letting it grow.
After saying all this, the caravan master went away to check in on the beasts while Lyn made his way to the rear quartermaster.
[1] some died tho
[2] this on itself is one of the ranks for beasts