Dust shaken loose by Draven’s descending halberd was still floating in the grotto air when Kaelen Vance sat up.
The hemp ropes of his hammock creaked under his weight. Across his inner sea, the massive bronze tally of the Fallow Slate shone like a miniature sun.
[Track 1 (Cultivation Vessel): 2,160h 00m Reached.] [Three-Month Milestone Achieved: Grand Fallow Surge Triggered.] [10x Multiplier Bonus Applied to Track 1.] [Track 1 Multiplier: 21,610x SEALED & READY FOR HARVEST.]
Every meridian inside Kaelen’s body hummed with pent-up potential. The three months of quiet rest had stacked twenty-one thousand six hundred and ten hours of baseline progress into every single minute of his upcoming burst window.
Ordinary cultivators spend two centuries locked in freezing caves, swallowing poisonous pills and praying their hair doesn’t fall out, Kaelen thought, brushing a flake of cavern dust from his sleeve. I spent three months napping, sipping jasmine tea, and reading Book Fifteen.
Above the cavern ceiling, the distant roar of Ancestor Draven rattled the stone. The northern sea-wall was buckling, and the protective mandala had shattered.
Kaelen did not rush. A panicked cultivator made sloppy decisions, and sloppy decisions wasted good tea.
He reached into his spatial ring and retrieved two pale blue jade boxes.
