The dossier on Zhang Hai was not a script, but a chemical formula. It provided the reactants and predicted the reaction. Lin Feng's role was to be the catalyst present, necessary, and invisible in the final product.
His first move was observation. He spent two days mapping Zhang Hai's social ecosystem. The bully's inner circle consisted of two primary lackeys, a thin nervous disciple named Bo, and a heavier, dull-eyed one called Geng. Their loyalty was transactional, born of fear and the minor perks of association slightly better chores, a sense of borrowed status. Then there was the wider ring of hangers-on, outer disciples who laughed at his jokes and avoided his gaze, a buffer of sycophancy.
His target, identified by the Ledger's analysis, was a disciple named Kang. Kang was at the 3rd Heaven of Qi Condensation, a notch below Zhang Hai, with a decent earth affinity. He had the build of a stone pillar and a face set in a permanent scowl. Lin Feng had seen him once, arguing with Zhang Hai over priority in the ore-smelting queue. The dispute had ended with Zhang Hai shoving Kang back, boasting about his cousin's influence. Kang had taken the shove, his face dark with impotent rage, but his eyes had held a promise of future reckoning. He was the competitor. The resentful understudy.
Lin Feng needed to give Kang a lever. Something small, deniable, but valuable enough to act on.
His opportunity came from his new, official role as blight observer. While making his daily notes on the Silverstream patch, he "accidentally" overheard two inner disciples from the Alchemy Hall, sent to assess the garden's overall health. They were speaking to Overseer Liang near the Sun-Leaf Vine trellises.
"need a batch of prime Sun-Leaves for the new batch of Vigor-Heart Pills," one was saying. "The last shipment from the Eastern Valley was subpar. Master Huang is insistent. He'll pay a ten percent bonus in contribution points for any disciple who can deliver fifty pounds of grade-A leaves by the end of the week."
Overseer Liang spat. "My disciples have their duties. I'm not a contracting hall."
"Suit yourself. We'll put the request on the public board. Plenty of hungry outer disciples will jump at the chance."
The inner disciples left. Lin Feng saw the calculation in Liang's eyes. The bonus points were nothing to him, but the prestige of his garden supplying a direct, urgent order to Alchemist Huang? That was tempting. But mobilizing his own disciples would disrupt his precious schedules.
Lin Feng finished his notes and approached, bowing. "Overseer. Regarding the Sun-Leaves. The vines on the southern slope, by the hotspring runoff, are exceptionally robust this season. Their yang-energy is high. Perfect for Vigor-Heart Pills. But the harvest is finicky. Requires strength to cut the fibrous stems, and an earth-affinity touch to handle the leaves without bruising their spiritual capillaries. Many disciples would ruin them."
Liang eyed him. "You know a lot about harvesting all of a sudden."
"I read the soil manual in the compost shed, Overseer. And I observe." He paused. "Disciple Kang, from the ore-smelting detail. He has a strong earth affinity. And he's careful with heavy, delicate tasks." This was a gamble. Kang worked with ore, not plants. But earth affinity was earth affinity, and Lin Feng was framing the harvest as a similar kind of precise, strength-based labor.
Liang grunted, his mind clearly on the annoyance of the request versus the potential credit. "Kang, eh? Fine. You find him. Tell him if he wants the job, he answers to me. He gets the bonus points, but the credit for the garden's quality goes in my ledger. And he does it on his own time. Now get out."
Permission granted. Lever acquired.
Lin Feng didn't go to Kang directly. That would create a connection. Instead, he paid a single, low-grade spirit stone (half his monthly stipend) to a gossipy disciple who owed him a minor favor for covering a dusting shift. The message was simple and delivered in the communal bathhouse that evening: "Heard Overseer Liang's looking for a strong earth-affinity disciple for a special harvest job. Big bonus points from the Alchemy Hall. Something about Sun-Leaves. He mentioned Kang's name, but couldn't be bothered to track him down. Probably give it to someone else if no one shows."
The seed was planted.
The next morning, Kang presented himself at the garden. Liang, true to his word, put him to work. The harvest was successful. Two days later, Kang walked out of the Contributions Exchange with a hefty lump of bonus contribution points more than he'd see in three months of smelting ore.
The first ripple appeared instantly. Kang, flush with points, bought a decent-quality Earth-Tempering Pill, something to solidify his foundation. He was seen cultivating in a better spot on the mountain, his aura slightly more stable. He stood a little taller.
Zhang Hai noticed. His currency was intimidation, and Kang's newfound, independent prosperity was a devaluation. He confronted Kang in the refectory.
"Got lucky, digging in the dirt? Don't get comfortable. The smelting hall misses its strongest ox."
Kang, for the first time, didn't look away. "My duties are managed by the overseers, Senior Brother. Not by you." The title 'Senior Brother' was uttered with a flatness that stripped it of all respect.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Zhang Hai's face. The script was broken. He was used to cowed submission or explosive, easily-crushed defiance. This was calm, factual rebuttal, backed by the implied authority of another department. He had no leverage.
He turned his anger on his lackeys. "You two! Why didn't you hear about this harvest job? Useless!"
Bo and Geng exchanged a look. The unspoken question hung in the air: Why would we? You don't have connections with the gardens. Their loyalty, built on reflected power, trembled as the source of that power showed its limits.
Lin Feng observed it all from a corner, sipping weak tea. The social corrosion had begun. Phase one: provide an alternative power source (points, prestige from another elder) to a competitor. Check.
Phase two, as outlined by the Ledger, was to make association with Zhang Hai costly.
Lin Feng used his observer status to make a "discovery." He reported to Overseer Liang that he'd seen signs of Root-Weave Nematodes a pest that slowly drained spiritual vitality in a patch of common Ironbark Ginseng near the western wall. It was a minor infestation, early stage. Liang, who hated waste, ordered a low-grade pesticide to be applied. The pesticide was a foul-smelling, sticky resin that had to be painted on each plant stem by hand. It was a miserable, spirit-staining job.
Lin Feng, while helping mix the resin (another mark of his growing, if menial, trust), mentioned casually to the disciple assigned the painting duty a friend of Bo's how unfortunate it was that the nematodes were probably introduced by contaminated soil on someone's boots. "Probably from the ore-smelting yards," he mused. "All that spiritually-inert stone dust can carry pests if you're not careful. Good thing Overseer Liang is so vigilant. He'd be furious if he thought someone was carelessly tracking problems into his garden."
The message travelled. Within a day, a rumor circulated. Overseer Liang was suspicious of disciples from the ore-smelting hall, blaming them for garden pests. It was nonsense, but it had the ring of plausible specialist bias.
Zhang Hai, seeking to reassert control, decided to lead his lackeys on a "patrol" near the garden that evening, a show of force to remind everyone of his presence. As they passed the western wall, Overseer Liang, who was inspecting his ginseng, saw them. His face, already sour from the nematode issue, darkened.
"You! Smelting-yard dogs! Keep your distance from my walls! Track your feet somewhere else!"
It was a public, humiliating rebuke from an elder-equivalent. Zhang Hai's face flushed crimson. His show of strength had backfired, painting him and his lackeys as clumsy contaminators. Bo and Geng looked at the ground, their association now actively harmful.
The second ripple spread. Association with Zhang Hai was no longer just unprofitable, it was becoming a liability.
Lin Feng, meanwhile, was preparing the final phase: irrelevance. He needed to provide Zhang Hai's lackeys with a positive alternative.
He turned to the annex. Archivist Song, in a rare moment of volubility fueled by a potent tea, had complained about a backlog of water-damaged scrolls from a lower vault flood. They needed to be carefully dried, flattened, and assessed a painstaking, boring job that required a light touch and patience. It paid a pittance in points, but it was indoors, safe, and came with the faint, residual scholarly prestige of working in the library's shadow.
Lin Feng, while delivering his garden reports to the annex, mentioned the task to Archivist Song in front of another disciple. "A shame such delicate work falls to you, Archivist. It requires a calm hand. Not like the brute-force tasks in the smelting yards or the gardens." He didn't name anyone. He simply drew a contrast.
The next day, Bo the thinner, more nervous lackey appeared at the annex. He asked Archivist Song, stammering slightly, if there was any work available. He mentioned he had a "steady hand." He was given a stack of damp scrolls and a bone-dry smoothing tool.
He didn't return to Zhang Hai's side that evening. He was in the annex, working in quiet, clean solitude, earning his meager points without fear of public rebuke or random violence.
Zhang Hai was livid. He was down to one loyal, dull-witted follower. His reputation was cracking. He was now the bully who couldn't protect his own, who attracted elder disdain, and whose circle was evaporating.
The final blow came from an unexpected direction, Kang. Emboldened by his success and Zhang Hai's visible decline, he organized a small group of earth-affinity disciples to bid on a collective ore-smelting contract, bypassing the traditional hierarchy Zhang Hai's cousin had influenced. It was a direct challenge to the last vestige of Zhang Hai's power his tenuous connection to an inner disciple.
Zhang Hai tried to confront him, but Kang simply looked at him, surrounded by his new, purposeful allies, and said, "We have work to do. Move."
It was not a fight. It was a dismissal. Zhang Hai stood alone in the yard, his face a mask of stunned, crumbling fury. The ecosystem had shifted. The predator had become a scavenger, and the scavengers had found better feeding grounds.
Lin Feng watched the final scene from the shadow of a storage hut. He felt no triumph, only a cold, professional satisfaction. The investment of six Karma points had yielded a complete return. A persistent threat had been neutralized not through a dramatic battle, but through social physics. Zhang Hai wasn't defeated; he was archived. A fading entry in the sect's ledger of minor players.
As he turned to leave, the warmth blossomed in his chest, deep and resonant.
Karmic Opportunity Detected: Systemic Removal of a Persistent Antagonist via Non-Violent, Cascading Social Manipulation.
Karma Points Gained: +8.
Current Karma Balance: 10.
He had spent six and earned eight. A net profit of two points, and a priceless asset, peace.
He walked back to the dormitory in the deepening twilight. The mountain air was crisp. He felt lighter. The constant, low-grade threat that had demanded a portion of his focus and energy was gone. That focus and energy could now be redirected entirely inward, to his five-year plan, to his spiritual camouflage, to the slow, silent construction of his unorthodox foundation.
He passed the herb garden. Overseer Liang was locking the gate. He saw Lin Feng and gave a curt nod. "Your observations on the nematodes were accurate. The patch is clean." It was as close to praise as the old man would ever give.
He passed the annex. Through a high window, he saw Bo bent over a scroll, a look of concentrated peace on his face that had never been there when he followed Zhang Hai.
He arrived at the dormitory courtyard. Kang was there, speaking with two other disciples about the ore contract. He saw Lin Feng, paused, and gave a short, respectful nod. Not to Lin Feng the person, but to Lin Feng the garden observer the neutral functionary who had, from Kang's perspective, been the random conduit of a fortunate opportunity.
Lin Feng returned the nod and went inside.
In the quiet of his room, he reviewed his ledger.
Karma: 10.
Progress: Zhang Hai neutralized. Garden standing secured. Spiritual dampening field operational. Five-year plan initiated.
New Variables: Yan Meixiang's noted attention. Xiao Rou's unresolved curiosity.
Next Objective: The planned internal meridian optimization (scheduled for tomorrow night, using a moon-cycle aligned herb bath per the five-year plan).
But as he sat in meditation, the single point of light in his mind brighter and steadier than ever, he knew he was also something else. He was the hand that had, with perfect subtlety, plucked a pebble from the stream. And the ripples were still spreading, changing currents he hadn't even intended to touch.