Before I fight, I think.

Lord Raq’ Mu, Great-General of Ochelon

It turned out that Lord Offal’ Kest was not the only one aware of the approaching Breakthrough Matrix Season; a once-in-a-century phenomenon where the mainland’s diluted cultivation essence thickened again. With the right method and matrix formation, legends could be born. Buried deep in the Yan Manor’s library, an unsuspecting reader stumbled upon this knowledge.

His name was Tez’ Mu.

A remarkable person—in all the wrong ways.

Tez’ Mu’s greatest problem was simple but devastating: he was stuck. A prodigy who had once defied expectations, he now found himself trapped in an agonizing cultivation bottleneck. Born as the fourth child of Lord Raq’ Mu, the youngest and strongest Martial Sage in history; and Lady Essa-kest’ Mu, a water affinity cultivator so gifted she halted her journey at Martial Lord by choice; Tez’ Mu had been heralded as the next great legend of Ochelon.

And for a while, he lived up to the prophecy. At eleven, he awakened his cultivation spirit and advanced at a terrifying pace, reaching Martial Skills by fourteen. Then disaster struck.

His body could no longer absorb cultivation essence.

Two years passed, each one darker than the last. Diagnosis after diagnosis, remedy after remedy—nothing worked. Well-meaning advice blurred together with cold indifference. The world, once full of promise, turned hostile. Tez’ Mu withdrew into himself, driven by a single, unrelenting force: to not rest, never rest, until he found something that would cure him of his sickness, for he considered it such.

And surely it was, for, lately, whenever he tried to cultivate, his chest would seize, his oasis would burn, and he would cough up blood.

It was quite fateful that he found information about the Breakthrough Matrix Season in the Yan Library, for the young master of the house, Dor’ Yan, heir to the Yan Manor and Tez’ Mu’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, was suffering from the same fate as him.

But Dor’ Yan was not merely bottle-necked. He had been born a cultivation cripple, forever denied the path that ruled noble society. Without the ability to cultivate at all, he instead mastered the art of command: politics, coercion, and martial training— skills every child born to a noble house in Ochelon definitely learned, but tended to abandon once they started cultivating. It was the only way when raw power was out of reach.

Dor’ Yan had endured many taunts in his life, but he was not really worse for the wear, for due to whatever reason, Tez’ Mu’s own sister, Royan’ Mu, the most eligible bachelorette in Ochelon, fell in love with him. Nothing but shock and disbelief responded to the announcement of the tiny Yan family that young Lady Royan’ Mu; the eldest daughter of the Mu family, Martial Grandmaster, disciple to Guild Master of the Healer’s Guild; was engaged to the only son and heir to the Yan Manor!

The first backlash was about half a dozen attempts on Dor’ Yan’s life, no doubt the work of the heart broken young masters of Ochelon, though no one was apprehended. Within a week of the announcement, four Yan family shops were mysteriously set on fire, their ship sailing in ransacked, its goods stolen, sailors wounded—one thrown overboard.

And just recently, a nameless girl had run through the streets, dragging a dirt-covered child and screaming that Dor’ Yan had abandoned his son.

Tez’ Mu shook his head even as he remembered all this and pulled down the dusty tome that would change his life.

Sometimes he wondered—if he had remained stuck at Martial Skills, would everything that happened afterward have never come to pass?

For if Tez’ Mu had known, as he turned the pages of that tome, what was going to happen to him in just a year, he might have been tempted to abandon Ochelon altogether.

To flee the mainland like his brothers had done.

But he didn’t.

The book was titled ‘The Hyghest and Moste Intricat Methodes of Cultivacioun’, its subtitle written in old symbols. He flipped it open with casual disinterest, his eyes skimming the dense lettering—until he came to a page covered in matrices drawn in intricate triangular formations.

“Huh?”

Tez’ Mu had attempted a matrix formation breakthrough before. He was sure he would have succeeded, if at the critical point his little sister Chan’ Mu had not walked smack right through the formation. Tez’ Mu still had not forgiven her, and she remained cold to him as well, not apologizing, for, as she reasoned, no one drew important matrix formations in the center of the courtyard.

His excitement, however, was short-lived. Beneath the matrices, a postscript in faded ink read:

In the season of Breakthrough Cultivation, the Breakthrough Matrix Formation shall be effective. None shall undertake this Formation of such gravity, but he who has attained the degree of Kingly Matrix Practitioner or has wit of greater wisdom.

Tez’ Mu scowled. “What! Where am I supposed to find a King-tier Matrix Practitioner!?”

But even as he grumbled, he tore out the pages of instructions. He was about to shut the book when a passage on the next page caught his eye.

The Breakthrough Matrix Season occurs at the meeting of the stars Limaz and Sotir.

“Oh, I see.” He tore that out too.

Walking back to the table, he dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands, exhaustion weighing down on him. Sleep was just beginning to claim him when a soft yet insistent voice called his name.

“I’m coming!” He stashed the pieces of paper torn from the book into the side pocket of his trousers and then hurried out of the vast library. He was still quite surprised at how many academic resources the Yan family had managed to collect.

When he reached the front room of the manor, Royan’ Mu stood with her back to him, a tall, commanding figure in an elegant wudan, a flowing gown of deep indigo silk, embroidered with silver-threads. The fabric shifted like water with every movement, the long sleeves tapering into delicate loops around her fingers. Her braided curls, a rich reddish-brown, cascaded down her back, woven with fine golden wire and tiny beads. The light from the lanterns kissed her deep brown skin, accentuating the smooth, polished glow of it.

“Where’s your fiancé?” Tez’ Mu asked dryly.

She turned, her large, expressive eyes catching the light, framed by thick lashes. A smile broke across her face, revealing pearly white teeth.

“He’s gone into the city to pick out a few things for our wedding.”

Tez’ Mu rolled his eyes. The very reason he had disappeared to wander the Yan Manor was because his stomach could no longer stand the icky displays of the two lovebirds. Why he had even agreed to accompany his sister in the first place, he had already forgotten.

“Are we leaving now?”

Royan’ Mu huffed, turning up her nose. “Try to be a little more friendly. Dor’ Yan was disappointed—you wouldn’t even say a word to him. He likes you, you know.”

Tez’ Mu scoffed. “Am I the one getting married to him? It’s bad enough that you both are all over each other. Do I have to watch as well?” He turned away and gestured for a passing Yan servant. “Prepare a horse for me.”

“What’s up? Where are you going?” Royan’ Mu frowned. The carriage of the Mu family was waiting to convey them back home.

“Ar’ Rion’s.”

“Aren’t you coming home for dinner?”

Tez’ Mu snorted. “Sis, Raq’ Mu is the last person I want to see right now,” he replied ominously.

“Don’t be silly. Father wouldn’t devour you, you know? It’s been long since we’ve all seen him; I’m sure he’d like for everyone to be present.”

“I reckon not.” Tez’ Mu’s voice turned cold. “Raq’ Mu can eat his dinner in peace without his good-for-nothing son ruining the atmosphere.”

“Tez’!” Royan’ Mu threw up her hands in exasperation, “you’re too critical of yourself! What’s a little cultivation bottleneck that you’re acting as if it’s the end of the world!”

The servant returned, bowing.

“The horse is ready, ke.”

“Thanks,” Tez’ Mu strode out without looking back.

In the courtyard, a dappled gray horse flicked its tail, waiting. He swung himself into the saddle, adjusting the reins just as the servant approached again, hesitant.

“Uh— where should I come to fetch it back?”

Tez’ Mu raised a brow. “Is your Yan Manor so derelict you can’t afford to lose a single horse?”

The servant paled, waving his hands hurriedly. “N-no, it’s just—that’s the young master’s horse—”

Ah.

“Fine.” Tez’ Mu exhaled. “Come to the Rion house later.”

The servant hesitated. “The Rion house?”

Tez’ Mu sighed. “Never mind. I’ll have my servant return it. Rest assured, it’ll be cared for in the Mu Manor stable.”

The servant’s face lit up with relief and excitement as he bowed.

Before the boy could start listing Dor’ Yan’s horse’s favorite types of hay and water, Tez’ Mu yanked the reins and spurred forward.

He rode out of Yan Manor, down the Ji District, scanning the streets. Another family had taken over the market—one that, even a blind man could see, rightfully belonged to the Yan family.

He could now guess why.

Aside from the young master and a few aging relatives, Yan Manor was empty. A dwindling household.

Dor’ Yan, as it were, was their last ’flame’ as an old adage would put it. No wonder his mother was not too pleased with this engagement. It was more like the Yan family wanted to use Royan’ as their stepping stone back into the limelight. A noble lady affiliated with the Healer’s Guild would no doubt take issue with another family’s illegal occupation of her husband’s territory.

Tez’ Mu guided his horse onto the left fork, heading out of Ji District. Just as he came to the gate, however, he was forced to slow down, and even to bring his horse to a halt, by a tall scar-faced man with dirty long hair Tez’ Mu turned his nose up at. Only nobles had the leisure and ease to grow out their hair. Others, like this man, who worked under the sun and in the sand, only brought reproach on this hairstyle, he thought privately.

“Yes?” Tez’ Mu frowned. The man looked slightly affronted. He was perhaps used to being the law.

“Who are you?” He asked. When Tez’ Mu didn’t answer, the man continued, digging his finger in his ear and pulling out a clump of earwax, which he cleaned on his sleeve.

“I didn’t see you enter our Ji District this morning, or anytime for that matter. Did you use a teleportation scroll? That’s not allowed.”

Tez’ Mu’s horse pawed the ground, mirroring its rider’s irritation. “I didn’t.”

“Then—”

“I was in a carriage.”

“Ah. Then your driver must’ve paid your fare. You’ll have to pay yours now.” the man shrugged, palm up.

Tez’ Mu raised his eyebrows. “Fare?”

“Yes. Our Ji Family is the one protecting and maintaining this road. Naturally, you wouldn’t enjoy your trip if it weren’t for us. Did you know how bad it was before—?”

“Cut the nonsense.” Tez’ Mu snapped, “I’m not paying any damn fare. Are you an idiot? How do you think the Scith would like to hear about this?”

It was the man’s turn to snort.

“The Scith?” He chuckled, “boy, if you won’t pay the fare I’ll have to seize your horse and then you can better appreciate what our Ji Family has done to maintain this road by walking it yourself.”

Tez’ Mu’s patience reached its limit. “How much is this fare?”

The man grinned, showing rotten teeth. “A hundred kerahs.”

Tez’ Mu let out an incredulous snort.

“Really! I’m surprised you haven’t built some sky-high towers on this ’your road’!”

“It’s in the works,” the gate-keeper grinned widely.

Around them, carriages and pedestrians passed freely, no one stopping to pay. Tez’ Mu glowered. “What about them?”

“These are our Ji District’s customers and partners,” the man replied smugly. “We have an understanding. You, however, are a stranger.”

Tez’ Mu tilted his head. “Oh? And whose rule is this?”

“Eminent Ji,” the man answered proudly.

Tez’ Mu blinked. “Eminent Ji?” Then, realization dawned. “Wait—Fifth Judge Muri’ Ji of the Scith? That’s your lord?”

The gatekeeper faltered. He hadn’t expected the name to roll off Tez’ Mu’s tongue so casually. “Watch your mouth, you—”

Tez’ Mu suddenly laughed. Loudly.

“Hah! I had no idea! I really had no idea it was that ’Ji’! I thought it was some great noble family that repressed the Yans,” He shook his head, amused. Then, eyes glinting, he leaned down from his horse.

“Listen carefully,” he said, voice light but sharp. “I’m not paying a single coin. Go tell your Lord Ji—” he raised his ringed index finger, “—that the Ke of House Mu sends his greetings. And tell him to watch his back.”

With that, he yanked the reins, rearing the horse onto its hind legs before galloping off without a backward glance.

Only when he had left for a few moments did the gate-keeper regain his breath.

“The Ke—” he muttered nervously, placing his hand over his chest, “the young master of House Mu?! Oh my, why is it him?! My lord would have killed me if I offended a Mu!”