A fat desert fly buzzed lazily against the carriage window, trapped between two layers of oiled silk.
Inside the shaded wagon, Kaelen lay flat on his back, staring at the wicker ceiling. A folded linen towel covered his forehead to block the midday glare. Beside his cot, a small clay bowl held three candied crabapples, their sweet syrup melting into a thin glaze.
Nineteen hours had passed since Patriarch Chen delivered the sheepskin map.
Outside, the crater remained as quiet as a burial vault. The three patriarchs had taken their zero-poison pills, purged thirty years of black slag in deep caves, and returned with renewed vigor. Now they sat on three chalk mounds around the perimeter, glaring at the horizon like stone gargoyles.
Not a single exile dared speak above a whisper.
Kaelen closed his eyes, listening to the gentle hum in his dantian.
[Fallow Slate] [STAGE 4: QUAD-TRACK SPLIT] [TRACK 1: CULTIVATION VESSEL — 239H 00M (240X)] [TRACK 2: MARTIAL COMBAT — 191H 00M (192X)] [TRACK 3: ALCHEMY REFINEMENT — 164H 00M (165X)] [TRACK 4: DAO & ARRAY COMPREHENSION — 239H 00M (240X)]
One more hour, Kaelen thought, feeling a wave of deep contentment. Ten full days. Two hundred and forty continuous hours of doing absolutely nothing. If I reach the milestone, the seal locks in.
