The Resource Hall was louder than any battlefield Shen Yuan had known.
Not with voices—but with breathing.
Hundreds of disciples stood in ordered lines beneath towering shelves carved directly into the mountain stone. Jars, boxes, jade slips, beast cores, pills sealed in wax—each item radiated a different aura.
Hunger hung thicker than spiritual energy.
A wooden plaque hovered at the entrance:
"Resources are earned. Complaints are debts."
An outer disciple wearing azure trim slammed a bell.
"Tier Three provisionals—step forward!"
Shen Yuan moved with the rest.
A jade slip floated before him, text forming in pale light.
Name: Shen Yuan
Status: Observation
Monthly Allocation:
– Spirit Grain × 3
– Bone-Tempering Paste × 1 (Low Grade)
– Access to Outer Training Grounds (Night Hours Only)
Three grains.
Even Blackwater County scavengers would laugh at that.
The disciple behind the counter glanced at the slip, then at Shen Yuan.
"Sign."
Shen Yuan pressed his thumb to the jade.
The grain pouch hit the counter with a dull sound—light. Too light.
He turned to leave.
A pressure brushed his back.
"Wait."
The voice was lazy, amused.
A group blocked the exit—five outer disciples, all wearing Tier Two insignia. At their center stood a broad-shouldered youth with a scarred lip and calm eyes.
"New face," the youth said. "Observation status."
He sniffed. "No mentor."
The others smiled.
Shen Yuan said nothing.
"You know the rule," the scarred youth continued. "Tier Three provisionals contribute to collective harmony."
He extended his hand.
"One grain."
Shen Yuan weighed his options in a heartbeat.
Refusal meant conflict.
Conflict meant discipline.
Discipline meant being noticed the wrong way.
He opened the pouch.
Placed one grain into the youth's palm.
The man chuckled. "Smart."
As they turned away, another hand reached out.
"Wait," a thinner disciple said. "Harmony fee doesn't include handling."
He plucked a second grain.
Two gone.
Shen Yuan did not react.
He left the hall with one grain remaining.
That night, in the training grounds carved beneath the academy, Shen Yuan watched others cultivate.
Tier Two disciples swallowed pills like water. Techniques cracked the air. Spiritual light flared and faded.
He sat in the corner.
Crushed the single grain.
Swallowed.
The energy was faint—barely enough to warm his dantian.
He circulated it slowly.
Carefully.
Still—
Crack.
Pain lanced through his meridians.
He coughed blood.
The shard pulsed once—too late to prevent, only enough to record.
A flaw.
A microfracture in his left arm channel.
Not crippling.
But permanent—unless repaired with resources he did not have.
Shen Yuan sat there for a long time, blood drying at his lip.
This was his first loss.
Not dramatic.
Not heroic.
Just… arithmetic.
Resources taken.
Opportunity denied.
Damage accrued.
When he returned to the dormitory, whispers followed him.
"Did you hear? Tier Two took his grains."
"Observation status but no backing."
"Won't last a month."
Shen Yuan lay on his bed, staring at the stone ceiling.
He did not rage.
He did not despair.
He catalogued.
Who took what.
Who watched.
Who smiled.
Who looked away.