Jake woke to the faint hum of his Gu beneath the floorboards, a steady drone he'd tuned out after four weeks in the Cloudveil Sect. Fifty quarter-sized mining Gu scavenged trails, thirty flea-sized shrunken Gu bred toward nanites, and ten spares toughened or multiplied in their sprawling pen—eggs pulsing, fed by silver-bought Qi Grass, Stone Root, and sap. Ninety silvers from their hauls had bought a soft robe and a bamboo flute, but today wasn't about bugs. His formation sketch—clock, notepad, memory jades looping a genetics podcast—sat in his pocket, ink lines sharp but disjointed. It worked, yet it begged for more. Formations weren't just tools; they were the cultivation world's arteries, and Jake aimed to master them.
He left the shack, sack light without jars—the mining Gu's daily take of twenty to fifty silvers kept supplies stocked. The Scripture Pavilion loomed through the dawn fog, its pagoda a dark spike against the peaks. Jake strode in and nodded at Elder Lin's scowl. "Jade slips," she barked, shoving a cart his way. He hauled it to his corner, routine a steady beat: sort, sweep, assist. His sketch hummed, qi trickling through—the podcast's "Replication forks split" looping soft in his skull. No metal or Rogan today; science honed his focus for the plunge ahead.
Downtime hit after noon, the pavilion still. Jake pulled Formation Fundamentals from a high shelf—a thick tome, edges frayed, diagrams sprawling across pages. Formations weren't parlor tricks here; they channeled qi through runes etched in stone, paper, or air, rooted in Taoist geomancy twisted for war and wonder. Real-world Feng Shui fed into it—five elements (wood, fire, earth, metal, water) danced along "dragon veins," qi currents cultivators mapped like rivers. A diagram showed a Mountain Shield Array—pentagons interlocking, earth qi hardening into barriers. Common for sect gates, brute simplicity.
He grabbed Common Arrays of the Jianghu, a slimmer scroll. Defensive formations led—Jade Turtle Ward, a low-tier shell of stone qi, shielded outer disciple huts. Amplification arrays followed—Spirit Well Circle, pooling qi for meditation, carved on peaks with jade anchors. Illusion formations like Phantom Mist Veil bent light and sound, cloaking camps or fooling foes—water qi swirling in fractal runes. Jake's clock nodded to that. Combat arrays—Crimson Thorn Net—lashed out with fire qi spikes, rare here but whispered in bandit lore. Utility formations closed it—Starlight Thread, a qi glow for night work, looped in tight spirals.
His sketch mixed Mind Clarity (focus), Hourglass Flow (time), Illusion Basics (visuals), Memory Binding (jades)—a patchwork begging unity. Formation Integration sat unopened; he needed roots first. He pulled Qi Flow Dynamics, bamboo slips clacking. Qi pulsed, spiraled, pooled—formations shaped it, runes as conduits, intent as spark. Like circuits, qi flowed through "meridian paths," runes storing or bending it—spirit stones or gold locking it permanent. His sketch's daily drain was amateur; pros used anchors.
He traced a Spirit Well Circle on smuggled paper—ink and qi, no gold. A faint tug pulled qi inward, pooling above—weak, but real. Amplification could stretch his trickle of qi. Next, a Phantom Mist Veil fragment—his clock rune bent, ticking twice, then one. Illusion layered; he'd refine it. Formation Integration's spiral knot rune loomed—binding arrays whole. He'd fuse, not stack.
Days blurred into study. Mornings at the pavilion, sorting and skimming—Defensive Arrays unpacked Steel Blossom Wall, mid-tier qi petals slashing intruders. Afternoons testing runes—his notepad crisped, mapping trails with steady lines. Evenings poring over scrolls by lamplight, the podcast's "Genes double" a quiet hum—science grounding his leaps. The Gu churned on; silver kept them fed—twenty more bought sap and rice midweek—pen deep enough for hundreds.
The market hit late week. He bartered ore and coins—fifty silvers clinked in, totaling one hundred forty. He pocketed one hundred thirty, spent ten on a clay vial—small, stoppered, for ink or dust. His flute stayed untouched; formations ate his hours. He tested Starlight Thread mid-shift—qi looped in his sketch, a faint glow in his mind—utility layered.
One evening, a disciple interrupted—a squat boy with a lazy eye, lugging a chipped guqin case. "Got Cloud Step Manual?" he asked, voice slow, plucking a sour note as he leaned on the cart. Jake fetched it, the podcast whispering about gene splicing, meeting his lopsided gaze. "You're always scribbling," the boy said, squinting at Jake's papers. "What's it do?"
"Helps me think," Jake said, shrugging, not hiding the sketch. "Patterns for focus, maps, stuff like that." No point in secrets—nobody'd get his interface dream anyway.
The boy plucked another note, wincing. "Sounds like alchemy nonsense. Does it kill stuff?" He grinned, half-serious.
"Nah," Jake said, lips twitching. "Just keeps me ahead. Killing's overrated." The boy snorted, slung the guqin over his shoulder, and shuffled off—case banging the cart. Jake shook his head—no doubt, just a reminder: his goals were his own, too strange for this world's blade-and-fire lens.
By week five, his points hit 90—10 a day, minus food—and his sketch pulsed stronger. He'd fused Spirit Well Circle into Mind Clarity—qi pooled tighter, clock and notepad vivid. Phantom Mist Veil layered a second map beside the first—trails doubled, then merged. Starlight Thread glowed faint when willed—mental light for night work. Formation Integration's rune tied the Gu bond—fifty mining froze mid-air on "stop," thirty shrunken twitched on "shrink," ten spares hummed distinct. The podcast looped crisp—"Replication forks split"—science a steady anchor.
Rain pattered the shack as he leaned back, sketch in hand. The Gu ticked on—silver kept them fed, numbers climbing—but formations were his now. Step nine: brewing. Tomorrow, he'd study, test, refine—gene splicing tales in his head. For now, he closed his eyes, the clock's tick blending with "Mutations build the world." No system, no shortcuts—just him, some lines, and a plan carving its way forward.