Xianlu's thoughts churned like the unceasing flow of tea from his shop's kettles. The notion of becoming a Creator wasn't one he had stumbled upon lightly—it was a prospect he had mulled over countless times, dissecting it from every conceivable angle. It was not ambition for the sake of ambition; it was survival, pride, revenge, and a hunger for transformation all coalesced into one burning desire.
The Tea Shop had served its purpose admirably. It had kept their family afloat during the lean years when hope seemed as scarce as spiritual resources. Yet, as the tides shifted, so did Xianlu's perspective. The awakening of his bloodline had changed everything. He was no longer the insignificant mortal trailing behind his illustrious relatives. He was a Vein-Weaver now, a being with potential vast enough to touch the stars. His grandfather Daiten and uncle Yuhen might soon reclaim their ability to cultivate, which would only deepen their dependence on resources. A modest tea shop, no matter how lovingly managed, would not suffice for the path he envisioned.
Improvement was the natural order of things, wasn't it?
To stagnate was to accept mediocrity, and Xianlu had suffered enough mediocrity to last a lifetime. He still bore the scars—emotional and otherwise—of being the family's scapegoat, a convenient target for their frustrations and cruelty. His relatives, so proud and condescending, had taken every opportunity to remind him of his supposed inferiority. For years, he had swallowed the bitter pill of their disdain, quietly enduring, waiting. But he had always known—always—that his day would come.
Becoming a Creator would be his answer to them, his declaration to the world. Yet, revenge wasn't something to be rushed. Xianlu believed it was best served cold, not in the heat of impulsive emotion but with the calculated precision of a master artisan crafting their magnum opus. When the time came, he wanted his revenge to be so thorough, so undeniable, that his relatives would be forced to choke on their arrogance.
The path of a Creator offered him more than just a means to that end. It was a role steeped in reverence and influence. Creators were the architects of spiritual progress, capable of producing Spiritual Qi, the best elixir of cultivation. Such Qi, derived from the purest form of World Qi, was the key to unlocking myriad possibilities in cultivation and beyond. The clan, even with all its politicking and internal strife, would have no choice but to recognize his value if he succeeded. They would not merely tolerate him; they would need him.
Xianlu allowed himself a moment to revel in the thought. The very same people who had sneered at him would be forced to bow their heads, acknowledging his indispensability. It was a delicious prospect, but he reminded himself to remain grounded. Ambition without strategy was nothing more than folly.
He weighed the risks of revealing his bloodline awakening. Concealing it had been his initial instinct, a way to keep himself safe from scrutiny and potential exploitation. But secrecy was a double-edged sword. Information, no matter how carefully guarded, had a way of leaking out. And when it did, the fallout could be disastrous if he had no control over the narrative. Instead of waiting for that inevitability, he decided he would reveal just enough to serve his purposes, a calculated display of power that would position him favorably.
To truly cement his position, he needed more than just his Vein-Weaving abilities. He needed a skill set that would set him apart—a craft that would prove his worth beyond question. The Institution of Creation held the key. It was the cradle of all Creators, a place where artisans and refiners honed their abilities to pass the grueling Creator Trials. The Trials were infamous, a crucible that separated the truly talented from the merely hopeful.
Xianlu knew that for most people, mastering the requisite skills for the Trials was a daunting endeavor. But he had an edge. His bloodline ability offered him shortcuts others could only dream of.
He had already begun experimenting, weaving fragments of his Vein-Weaving power into his tea blends. The results, while promising, had not yet reached the level he aspired to.
For instance, his attempts to replicate Madam Mayumi's Veinroot Pill—a masterpiece that had saved his grandfather from death's door—had fallen frustratingly short. Even with the addition of powdered Veinroot and Pure Scales, the effects of his tea were mild and slow-acting at best.
The failure gnawed at him, but it also fueled his determination. He wasn't deterred by the setbacks; he viewed them as stepping stones. What he lacked wasn't talent but knowledge—the kind of specialized knowledge that only the Institution of Creation could provide. Once he gained access to their resources and mentors, he was confident he could refine his craft to an extraordinary level.
Xianlu envisioned the possibilities with almost painful clarity. If he succeeded in producing something as miraculous as the Veinroot Pill, he could leapfrog directly to Class 3 certification, bypassing years of incremental progress. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. The domino effect would be unstoppable. Certification would grant him not only prestige but also access to resources, protection, and influence within the clan. From there, the sky was the limit.
But his ambition wasn't purely selfish. Beneath the layers of calculated ambition and thirst for revenge lay a genuine desire to uplift his family. His grandfather and uncle had suffered greatly, their once-formidable cultivation abilities stripped away by cruel twists of fate.
Xianlu wanted to restore them to their former glory, to give them the dignity and power they deserved. And while the Tea Shop had been their lifeline, it was not a long-term solution. His newfound path offered hope for a brighter future—not just for him but for all of them.
Still, the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. The Creator Trials would test him in ways he couldn't fully anticipate, and even with his bloodline advantage, success was not guaranteed.
He would need to be methodical in his preparations, leaving no stone unturned. Every experiment, every failure, every sleepless night spent poring over ancient texts and obscure recipes would bring him closer to his goal.
As Xianlu's thoughts swirled, he thought about the Tea Shop, his sanctuary and starting point. The familiar scents of roasted leaves and herbal blends filled the air, grounding him. This place had been his anchor during turbulent times, a testament to his resilience and resourcefulness. But it was also a reminder of the limitations he sought to transcend.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of stillness. The path of a Creator was not one he had chosen lightly, but it was the one that called to him with unrelenting urgency. It was more than a career or a title; it was a declaration of his worth, a weapon against those who had wronged him, and a beacon of hope for the future.
And if Xianlu became a Creator, he would not stop at merely enacting revenge on his petty relatives. That would be too small, too narrow a victory for the ambitions now burning in his chest.
No, he envisioned a transformation far greater than personal retribution—a revolution that would tear apart the deeply flawed system that had allowed his suffering to fester.
The Riverscale Clan's structure was a carefully maintained web of power, designed to favor the strong while leaving the weak to rot at the edges. Xianlu had experienced the full brunt of this imbalance firsthand. His childhood had been one long, bitter lesson in the cruelty of that system. He had been trampled not because of any lack of intelligence, resourcefulness, or strength, but because he had been born into a vulnerable position, an easy target. That vulnerability, that oppressive cycle, was something he vowed to destroy.
The Riverscale Clan's leader stood at the heart of this system, a figure who symbolized everything wrong with their way of life. The clan leader wasn't inherently evil, but his governance had perpetuated a structure where might was right, where the strong were exalted, and the weak were discarded.
It disgusted Xianlu. Strength wasn't supposed to be a weapon for domination—it was supposed to be a tool to protect, to build, to create.
If he could influence the workings of the clan, it would be the ultimate victory. But Xianlu didn't want to merely tweak the system or work within its confines. He wanted to rebuild it, to strip it down to its corrupt foundations and reshape it according to his vision.
A vision of perfection—perfection as he deemed it.
It was audacious, perhaps even foolish, to dream of challenging the Riverscale Clan's leader directly. But Xianlu didn't flinch from the enormity of the task. Impossible? Perhaps to others. To him, it was merely another challenge to overcome, another trial on his path. He would not be content with being a pawn in the game of the clan's three ruling factions, constantly vying for dominance. No, he would either make himself indispensable to one of those factions or, better yet, create his own.
Creating his own faction—that idea resonated with Xianlu deeply. It was an opportunity to build something entirely new, free from the constraints of the old order. He imagined a faction that valued merit above all else, where even the weakest could find a place if they had the determination to prove themselves. His faction would be a refuge for those who had been trampled, a beacon of hope for the oppressed.
But ambition wasn't enough; it needed a foundation. To establish a faction, Xianlu would require resources, allies, and influence. Becoming a Creator was the first step toward achieving all three. As a Creator, his ability to produce Spiritual Qi would grant him leverage like no other. Cultivators, no matter how powerful, were dependent on resources to advance, and Spiritual Qi was the most valuable of them all. If Xianlu could establish himself as a peerless Creator, his influence would grow exponentially. The clan would have no choice but to acknowledge him—not as a nuisance, not as a rival, but as a force to be reckoned with.
However, the thought of relying on the current factions left a sour taste in his mouth. The three factions were deeply entrenched in their ways, each fighting tooth and nail for supremacy, with little regard for the well-being of the clan as a whole. Joining one of them would mean aligning himself with their flawed ideals, compromising his vision for the sake of expedience. It was an option, but not one he favored.
Building his own faction, on the other hand, was a riskier yet far more rewarding endeavor. It would be difficult, of course. He would have to start from nothing, carving out his place through sheer will and ingenuity. He would need to find like-minded individuals who shared his vision, who were willing to fight for a better future. Trust would be a rare and precious commodity, but Xianlu was confident he could inspire loyalty through his actions and achievements.
Xianlu's thoughts wandered to the future, envisioning the moment when his faction would rise to prominence. He saw himself standing at the helm, surrounded by loyal allies who had been cast aside by the old system but had found new purpose under his leadership. Together, they would challenge the entrenched powers of the clan, not out of blind ambition but to create something better.
The Riverscale Clan's leader would have to take notice eventually. Xianlu could already imagine the confrontation—the clash of ideals, the inevitable struggle for dominance. He didn't harbor any personal hatred for the clan leader, but he could not condone his failures. The clan leader had allowed corruption to fester, had turned a blind eye to the suffering of the weak. Xianlu would not hesitate to remove him if it meant a chance to reshape the clan.
Perfection.
That was the word Xianlu kept returning to in his mind. The current system was flawed, broken, and he would correct it. He would create something that was not just functional but ideal—a system where everyone had a chance to rise, where power was tempered by responsibility, where strength was used to uplift rather than oppress.
But perfection came at a cost, and Xianlu was prepared to pay it. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, betrayal, and sacrifice. He would face opposition from every side—his petty relatives, the ruling factions, even the clan leader himself. Yet he welcomed the challenge. Every obstacle, every setback, would only serve to make him stronger.
As Xianlu sat in his quiet tea shop, his eyes burned with resolve. He was no longer the meek boy who had once cowered in the shadows of his relatives. He was a Vein-Weaver, a future Creator, and perhaps, one day, the architect of the Riverscale Clan's rebirth. The thought filled him with a quiet, unshakable determination.
The clan's future would not be decided by the whims of those in power. It would be decided by him. And he would ensure that the Riverscale Clan became a place where no one, no matter how weak, would ever be trampled again.
---
Xianlu sat in his modest study, the dim light of the flickering candle casting long shadows across the room. His hands gripped the edges of the book A Creator's Guide tightly, the knowledge contained within swirling in his mind like a river of possibilities.
He had read through each page slowly, absorbing the wisdom, the cautions, and the intricate methods that promised to elevate a Creator beyond the mundane.
Yet, despite the allure of his cheat skill, Pure Scale, Xianlu understood the price of recklessness. The Riverscale Valley was a haunting reminder of what could happen when ambition outpaced preparation.
He had been reckless once before—convinced that sheer will and strength alone could lead him to Veinroot in the treacherous Valley. It was a foolish thought, and it had almost cost him everything. The memory was a bitter reminder that even the most powerful tools, even cheats like Pure Scale, could be undone by poor decision-making. Xianlu could not afford another misstep.
That night, Xianlu meticulously drafted a letter, each word carefully considered. This wasn't his first letter—ever since meeting Madam Mayumi, he had been sending messages to her whenever he sought feedback on his tea brewing. Given the close relationship his grandfather had with Madam Mayumi, his younger self had once asked for her permission to send occasional invitations. To his surprise, she had granted it.
But this period, he knew that Madam Mayumi's time was precious, especially during the peak of the Beast Wave. He kept the message short but had underlying meaning that hinted to his journey outside the Riverscale clan.
A few days passed in anxious waiting, and when the response finally arrived, Xianlu's pulse quickened. The scroll, elegantly sealed, bore Madam Mayumi's familiar seal—a mark of her approval to at least entertain his request. He knew that her time was limited, yet she had chosen to respond. This small victory buoyed his spirits, sharpening his focus even further.
When the afternoon arrived, the door to his humble tea shop opened slowly, revealing Madam Mayumi. Her serene expression was a study in calm, and Xianlu bowed deeply in greeting.
"Madam Mayumi," Xianlu said softly, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. "Thank you for finding time amidst the beast wave, Madam."
She nodded, her gaze calm but piercing. "Xian-Xian. I see you've prepared something. Let's not waste time."
Xianlu gestured to the small, refined tea setup he had prepared. The aroma of a carefully crafted blend began to fill the room—a harmonious mix of subtle notes and grounding tones. He poured the tea with meticulous precision, mindful of every step, knowing that this moment would be crucial.
Mayumi's Blend
For Mayumi Koicha, Xianlu had meticulously crafted a blend to embody calm precision and subtle strength. The base was a harmonious mix of Jasmine Pearls and Velvet Rose petals, offering a gentle, soothing essence. To enhance focus and clarity, Black Dragon Licorice and Silver Root were infused—known for their grounding properties. Lastly, Moonlit Lavender was added, harmonizing the blend to bring a balanced depth while soothing the mind. Each ingredient had been chosen with care, ensuring the subtle complexity suited Mayumi's refined tastes.
To this blend, Xianlu added a hint of Pure Scales—a subtle infusion to add a spiritual qi to the tea. He then used an elaborate brewing technique, more refined than any he had attempted before, a process reserved for moments of utmost importance.
Madam Mayumi took a delicate sip, the tranquility in her demeanor betraying the intensity behind her gaze. She closed her eyes briefly, absorbing the flavors, before setting the cup down. However, a frown crossed her face, and Xianlu looked surprised at her expression.
At first, she assumed the invitation was similar to the regular ones Xianlu had sent in the past. Then during their tea ceremony, he would recount his methods of obtaining the Veinroot. But as she sipped the tea, she immediately detected something unusual—a presence that shouldn't have been there with the mortal herbs.
"Xian-Xian… this tea…"
With his plan gracefully unfolding, Xianlu's smile deepened as a Pristine White Koi emerged, its shimmering form gliding gently around them. The koi moved with an ethereal grace, weaving tranquility into the air like a soft melody. Madam Mayumi watched in silence, her gaze steady and thoughtful. Her breath caught for a moment, the weight of recognition shimmering behind her calm demeanor.
Madam Mayumi watched with surprise as the koi appeared and merged with Xianlu. His appearance began to shift—streaks of white appeared among his raven-black hair, while white scales resembling Jasmine petals grew over his face. His onyx eyes transformed into jade gems. Xianlu deliberately downplayed his transformation, revealing only small, calculated amounts.
When she saw Xianlu's altered form, she quickly pieced it together, forming a misunderstanding.
"You've been hiding all along," she said softly.
Internally pleased by her assumption, Xianlu nodded his head and played along with the narrative she had created.
"My relatives have been watching our family for a long time. Though they do nothing, it's because we've never given them a reason to act. But things have changed—I've awakened, quite early… too early even," Xianlu said, adding layers of deeper meaning to his words.
At first, Madam Mayumi was shocked by Xianlu's talent. For an eighteen-year-old Bloodline Awakener, she knew of only three others who had achieved such a feat: the Clan Leader Rokuan, Daiten, and Xianlu's father.
The mention of his Xianlu's father suddenly triggered a memory. She recalled the chartreuse hair color of Xianlu's father. As she overlapped their appearances, she understood—Xianlu had inherited not only his father's talent but also the rare Jasmine Koi Bloodline, the rarest among the Tea Koi Bloodlines.
Madam Mayumi listened intently, her expression shifting as she absorbed his words. She recognized the sentiment behind them and could validate his experience. She even recalled how the Clan Leader had been overly inquisitive against Xianlu, especially in relation to his grandfather Daiten.
"Xian-Xian…" she said tenderly, "I apologize, my hands are tied… but know that I did what I could." Her words held underlying meanings—once upon a time, she had a complex relationship with Daiten, Xianlu's grandfather.
Xianlu's nod was measured, yet beneath it lay a deeper intention—one she had begun to sense.
"I understand where you're coming from, Madam. You don't need to act directly." By saying this, he hinted that Madam Mayumi could still help him indirectly.
Her eyes widened as a small smile appeared on her lips. She admired his wisdom.
"Tell me," she asked, eager to assist.
"Teach me to become a proper Creator."