The tea was still warm when Master Yuan set his cup down.
He looked at Lin Hao with his usual calm.
"Have you studied the relic manual I gave you?"
Lin Hao nodded. "Yes. I understand the basics."
The old man's gaze sharpened slightly. "Then tell me, what do you think the sculpture you sold me is worth?"
Lin Hao answered without hesitation.
"Historically, it's significant. The materials—obsidian heartstone and emerald crystal—are ceremonial, common in sect tributes from three centuries ago. There are subtle carving signs from the Cloud-Forged school, and while it holds no formation core, its construction reflects a high-level craftsman. It was likely used in ritual offerings. Valuable in both aesthetic and archaeological terms."
Master Yuan's eyes didn't blink. Then he smiled.
"Well done."
Then he added, "But that's not its true value."
Lin Hao paused. "Because of Qi?"
"Yes," the old man said. "Because of Qi. Because it was used—once, long ago—by someone whose mind touched the spiritual. That residue still lingers."
He leaned forward, folding his hands.
"But to feel that, to sense it… one must be a cultivator of the mind. Do you know how that power awakens?"
Lin Hao hesitated.
He shook his head.
In truth, even in his past life, he had never found the answer.
"I always believed it was something people were born with," he said carefully.
Master Yuan shook his head.
"A common belief. And incorrect."
He poured a new cup of tea, letting the silence hang before speaking again.
"All living beings have a mind capable of reaching spiritual awareness. But most never touch it. For some, it awakens by accident—through years of study, deep meditation, or great emotion. Others awaken it after near-death. Some of the greatest cultivators in history were born powerless—until they weren't."
Lin Hao listened without blinking.
"There is another way," Master Yuan continued. "It is rarer. But it exists."
He reached into a nearby drawer and placed something on the table.
A small figurine. Weathered, bronze-colored, shaped like a curled fox. Its eyes were tiny rubies, and the tail held a faint spiral design.
Lin Hao stared.
"This," the old man said, "is a spiritual relic. Lesser in value than the dragon sculpture—but still sufficient. With the right guidance, and exposure to Qi through this relic… it could awaken your mind."
Lin Hao's throat tightened.
So that's why relics like these sold for such high prices.
And why no one ever said why.
It all made sense now.
If the truth were public, people would hoard them. Prices would skyrocket. Cultivators would no longer part with them so easily. Knowledge was power—and power, in this world, was never given freely.
He looked up.
"And the dragon sculpture?" he asked.
Master Yuan turned to his side, where Yuan Qingyue sat silently, watching them both.
"It will be used," he said calmly, "to awaken her."
The girl blinked.
"You… brought that sculpture?" she asked, finally addressing Lin Hao.
He gave a small nod. "I did."
Her expression didn't change, but something in her eyes shifted—just slightly.
Master Yuan tapped the smaller relic with his finger.
"This one is yours. If you want it."
Lin Hao met his gaze. The old man was serious.
"It may work," he said. "It may not. But the chance is yours. I won't offer it twice."