My Infinite System.

The Laughing Drake was the kind of inn that catered to people who had coin but didn’t want attention. It was sturdy, clean-ish, and located right where the dockworkers’ taverns met the merchant quarter. When Lucian pushed open the heavy oak door, the low buzz of conversation didn’t stop, but it dipped.

Heads turned.

He was hard to miss. Not because he was flamboyant, but because he was a blank space. In a room full of cultivators—even low-level ones—everyone gave off some kind of energy signature. A Foundation Establishment disciple had a certain solid feel. A Core Formation expert emitted a subtle pressure. Even mortals had the buzz of life.

Lucian had none of that. He walked in, and to spiritual senses, it was like a shadow had stepped inside. He wasn’t hiding his power. There was simply nothing to sense. It was deeply unnerving.

A group of three women sitting at a corner table, dressed in the flowing green and white robes of the ”Verdant Willow Sect,” immediately stopped their conversation. Their eyes followed him across the room. One, a young woman with elaborate braids, leaned in and whispered something, her eyes wide. They weren’t looking at him with suspicion, but with a captivated, almost dazed curiosity. His ordinary features, combined with the absolute void where his cultivation should be, created an allure they couldn’t explain.

Lucian ignored them. He ignored the burly mercenaries sizing him up, the shrewd merchants calculating his worth, and the tired serving girls. He walked straight to the counter.

The innkeeper was a bald man with a thick ledger and the tired eyes of someone who’d seen everything. He looked Lucian up and down, his brow furrowing slightly.

”Help you?” he asked, his tone neutral.

”A room. For three nights,” Lucian said, his voice quiet.

”We’re busy. The ’Starlight Trial’ is starting soon. Everyone’s here. I’ve only got the VIP suite left. It’s ten mid-grade spirit stones a night.” The innkeeper said the price like a challenge, waiting for the inevitable haggling or the disappointed retreat.

Lucian just nodded. ”Fine.”

He reached into the pocket of his coat. He didn’t pull out a pouch. He simply closed his hand and then opened it, placing three small, perfectly cut stones on the counter. They glowed with a soft, internal light, and the air around them hummed with dense, pure energy.

The innkeeper’s eyes bulged. The entire tavern seemed to inhale at once. Conversations died completely.

Those weren’t mid-grade stones. They weren’t even high-grade.

They were top-grade spirit stones. The kind that Patriarchs of major sects used to break through bottlenecks. Each one was worth a hundred mid-grade stones, maybe more. And this man had just tossed three on the counter like they were copper coins.

The Verdant Willow women gasped. One of the mercenaries choked on his ale.

”T-top grade...” the innkeeper stammered, his hand hovering over them as if they might burn him. ”Sir, I... I can’t make change for this...”

”Keep the difference,” Lucian said, as if discussing the weather. ”The room?”

The innkeeper snatched up the stones with trembling hands, fumbling under the counter for an ornate brass key. ”Y-yes! Of course! Third floor, end of the hall. The Azure Suite. Best view in the house! Would you like an escort? A meal? Anything!”

”Just the key.” Lucian took it. He turned and walked toward the staircase, the crowd parting silently before him. Every eye was on his back. The whispers started the moment his foot hit the first step.

”...did you see those stones?”

”...no aura at all... like a void...”

”...must be using a supreme-grade concealment artifact...”

”...or he’s so far above us we’re like ants looking at a mountain...”

”...here for the Trial, obviously... a hidden genius from some reclusive clan...”

Lucian heard it all. He didn’t care. He found the Azure Suite, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, closing it on the world of whispers.

The room was spacious, with a large window overlooking the docks and the silver sea beyond. He tossed the key on a table and walked to the window.

”Alright, Cael. What’s this ’Starlight Trial’ everyone’s buzzing about?”

A window of text appeared in his vision.

”The Starlight Trial. A semi-regular event sanctioned by the Western Empire and the major sects. Occurring in three days’ time.”

A map of the continent appeared, highlighting a jagged mountain range far to the north.

”Location: The Shattered Spear Peaks. The trial is a multi-stage competition and survival test within a naturally occurring, Qi-rich perilous zone. Participants, usually young cultivators under a hundred years of age, compete for ranking, resources, and the attention of major powers.”

”Standard tournament arc,” Lucian murmured.

”Primary Attraction: The trial’s deepest chamber occasionally produces ’Starlight Blossoms,’ a heavenly treasure that can purify one’s foundation and significantly boost soul strength. However, the main reason for the influx of powerful outsiders this time is different.”

”Oh?”

”Rumors. Scattered reports from the last opening of the Whispering Expanse—your resting place—suggest a ’mark’ or a ’key’ was found by a lucky cultivator and then lost. The rumor states this ’key’ is connected to the Starlight Trial site this cycle. Many believe it could lead to the legacy of one of the ’Sleeping Progenitors’—the mythologized versions of your siblings.”

Lucian’s gaze sharpened. ”A key to one of them? Which one?”

”Insufficient data. The rumors are chaotic. Some say it is a ’Spatial Key’ pointing to Marc’s legacy. Others speak of a ’Flame Seed’ connected to Lucy. Others mention a ’Songstone’ for Vyn, or an ’Unbreakable Shard’ for Silas. The consensus among the higher powers is that something real has surfaced, and the Trial is where it will be revealed.”

Lucian stared out at the sea, his mind working. This wasn’t a coincidence. He wakes up, his niece is here, and a trial promising clues to his missing family is about to start a few days’ journey away.

”They’re all drawn here,” he said softly. ”The energy... it’s like a magnet. Lucy’s daughter is here. Maybe pieces of the others are too. Or people seeking them.” He turned from the window. ”I need to be at that trial.”

”As a participant? Your age and lack of measurable cultivation would draw extreme, unwanted scrutiny.”

”No. Not as a participant.” A slow, determined smile touched his lips. ”I need an identity. Something that gets me close without being in the spotlight.”

He focused. The Infinite Abilities hummed silently. He wasn’t creating something from nothing; he was editing the world’s perception.

”Create identity: A wandering scholar. An expert in ancient history and progenitor lore. Weak cultivation—say, early Foundation Establishment, just enough to not be a mortal. A touch eccentric. Harmless. Knowledgeable. The kind of person nobles and sect elders would hire as a consultant for a dangerous expedition into ancient ruins... or a trial site.”

The air around him shimmered faintly. His black robes softened in color to a deep grey. A simple, worn leather satchel appeared across his chest. A pair of plain, wire-rimmed spectacles materialized on his face. His overwhelming presence receded, replaced by a mild, bookish aura. To any spiritual sense, he now read as a very, very weak Foundation Establishment cultivator with a strangely calm soul.

”Identity established. Documentation and background lore woven into local information streams. You are now ’Lysander,’ a freelance scholar last employed by the Silent Sisters for archival work.”

”Perfect.” Lucian—now Lysander—adjusted his spectacles. ”Now, I need an employer. Someone going to the trial who needs an expert on old myths.”

As if on cue, there was a firm knock on his suite door.

Lucian raised an eyebrow. ”That was fast.”

He walked over and opened the door.

Standing in the hallway wasn’t a servant or an innkeeper. It was the leader of the Verdant Willow Sect women from downstairs. She was older than she looked from a distance, perhaps in her late twenties, with an elegant, calm face and keen eyes. She bowed slightly.

”Forgive the intrusion, learned sir,” she said, her voice melodic. ”My name is Elara of the Verdant Willow Sect. We could not help but notice your... transaction downstairs. My mistress is in need of a consultant with expertise in ancient relics and progenitor-era symbolism for the upcoming Starlight Trial. Your demeanor suggests a scholarly mind. Would you be open to a discussion?”

Lucian hid a smile. The universe, it seemed, was providing.

He gave a slight, scholarly bow. ”Lysander, at your service. I might be able to help. Please, come in.”

As Elara stepped into the room, Lucian’s mind was already racing. The trial was the next step. But as he closed the door, a notification from Cael, urgent and red, flashed in the corner of his vision.

”Alert. Passive scan of Silverhaven Keep has detected a stealth Qi signature. High-level. Nascent Soul stage or above. It has bypassed all wards and is currently positioned outside Earl Althea Veridian’s private solar. Hostile intent is probable.”

Lucian’s false, scholarly smile vanished. The pleasantries with Elara would have to wait.

Althea was in danger. Now.