Lab 7B's mobile pavilion had been silent for two hours. Not because nothing was happening—on the contrary, the silence was charged, like the pause before a lightning strike.
Rayen sat cross-legged in the command alcove, the micro-core framework suspended in a levitating prism before him. Dozens of subroutines pulsed through the Philosopher's Reactor embedded in his chest, gently cycling intent-to-resonance translations.
Behind him, Lin Xue paced. "We've already had three visitations today. One was a scholar from the Grand Library who casually implied we were heretics. Another offered to 'sponsor' us in exchange for exclusive access to our next prototype."
"And the third?" Rayen asked.
"A junior from the Cloudhammer Sect who wanted to duel you for your core because his master had a vision."
Rayen groaned. "And I thought we were done with sect drama."
:: Clarification: targeted harassment escalation probability: 68%. ::
Ji Rong entered, looking uncharacteristically grim. "There's more. Someone tried to brute-force past our outer formation. It held—but only just."
Rayen stood. "We need a public stabilizer. Something that signals strength without drawing blood."
Lin folded her arms. "A demonstration?"
"No. A gift."
The following day, the symposium plaza was bustling with whispers. At the center of it all stood a crystal projection orb linked to Lab 7B's main formation.
Rayen, Lin Xue, and their team stood before it.
"I present to the cultivation world," Rayen said clearly, "the Open Source Seed Core."
Gasps.
"This is a foundational framework derived from the Philosopher's Core. It lacks adaptive self-awareness, but retains the quantum stabilization lattice. Any cultivator—regardless of sect or affinity—can use it to meditate more efficiently, refine pills with greater precision, or stabilize spiritual injuries."
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Why give this away?"
Rayen smiled. "Because knowledge kept in a box becomes rot. But shared? It grows."
The uproar was immediate.
Some called him a genius. Others called him a fool. But no one ignored him.
Within hours, two major sects began experimenting with the Open Seed. And by nightfall, rumors swirled of breakthroughs made from the shared formula.
Back at the pavilion, the team sat in a circle, exhausted but quietly triumphant.
"You gave away a revolution," Lin said softly.
Rayen nodded. "And I planted a thousand roots. Let's see which ones grow."
That night, Rayen dreamed.
Not of war, or fame, or invention.
But of echoes.
The Philosopher's Core pulsed gently in the dream, whispering fragments of old cultivators' voices. A forest of ideas. Some harmonious. Some discordant. All real.
And through it all, a whisper—not from the Core, but behind it.
"Good. But not enough. What you build… will be tested by flame."
Rayen awoke with a start.
And a strange symbol burned into the air above his bed: three spirals interlocked—impossibly ancient, and watching.