Daniel

The moment Master Lan Huai’s voice faded, Daniel hit pause.

The soulglass interface dimmed to amber and there was a long silence that filled the lab.

“That guy is… freaking awesome,” Daniel said.

Ethan’s voice stirred inside his mind, dry as dust.

“You finally get it.”

Daniel grinned. “Commanded that room like it owed him money.”

“He made every one of those nobles feel like scared students. Without raising his voice once.”

Daniel leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head, watching the recording’s freeze-frame—Shen Duyi standing with both hands folded, eyes slightly downcast, like a priest delivering gospel.

“It’s all there,” he murmured. “Everything I’ve been trying to break apart: the levels, the architecture, the language. Except he said it better than I ever could.”

“He said it older,” Ethan corrected. “Our goal should be to say it clear—newer.”

Daniel rolled forward and tapped a key on the obsidian control array. The interface shimmered, and Shen’s voice dropped into background audio. The system began parsing the lecture.

[DEDICATION MODULE: ACTIVE]

Source Input: Lecture – Shen Duyi, Format 4

Transcription Confidence: 91%

Conversion Logic: Physical–Spiritual–Intent Classification

Status: Compiling...

The ten rings of cultivation appeared above the table like layers of an ascending tower—clean and nested. Each ring labeled and threaded into Daniel’s annotated framework.

* Level 1: Body Forging

* Level 2: Meridian Opening

* Level 3: Core Gathering

* Level 4: Pulse Refinement

* Level 5: Aura Awakening

* Level 6: Intent Binding

* Level 7: Domain Formation

* Level 8: Soul Tempering

* Level 9: Worldstep Threshold

* Level 10: Spirit Crown / Ascendant Gate

Daniel flicked between the rings. The system had already created special classifications for levels 3, 6, and 8. These levels were particularly difficult and—

“Insight-driven breakthroughs,” Ethan said. “Not just energy thresholds.”

“He called them spiritual events,” Daniel said. “Like… alignment points.”

“It speaks the truth. You’re not just changing your stats. You’re becoming someone new.”

“We need to model that.”

Daniel pulled up another window.

[Li Sword Library: Initial Scan]

* Ten Movements: Mapped

* Ten Forms: Partial overlay incomplete

* Cross-reference: Style–Structure–Intent Tree

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The system displayed dozens of readouts forming a combat constellation around the user’s position. The information was cluttered and difficult to understand.

Which told Daniel exactly what the problem was.

“Too much movement overlap,” Daniel muttered. “Too many variations. And the archive’s massive. I haven’t even processed Vivian’s annotations.”

“You won’t finish this alone,” Ethan said.

Daniel hesitated. “I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

“You don’t have a choice. The Framework is growing. You’re not building a sword style database. You’re laying the groundwork for a living combat OS.”

Daniel leaned over the console, watching the glyphs flicker past. “Then we need more than scholars.”

“You need testers. Practitioners. People who’ve felt what these forms do—not just read about them.”

Daniel opened a new file: [Martial Logic Calibration Team – DRAFT]

He stared at the blank space for a while.

Then started typing names. “This is getting out of hand.”

“No, this is you finally seeing the size of what we’re doing. You’re used to doing things on your own. You cannot. Not with something of this size. I got tunnel vision in my last life. I allowed my priorities to get screwed because of my feelings for Claire. We cannot allow that to happen. We have to trust people to help us in this or we will lose. ”

Daniel signed and switched screens.

The Framework’s core shell glowed a soft blue. The system’s feedback loop simulation was stable—but the processing indicators were already starting to lag. They were pushing the edge of what the lab could support.

Daniel looked toward the ceiling has thought through their needs. “It’s not just the library, either. We need additional tools for integration, monitoring, processing, and feedback. If we want real-time responsiveness and cross-body alignment diagnostics, then we’ll probably need biometric support, external sensors—”

“—and storage,” Ethan added. “You need access nodes. Relay stations. Some kind of data retention infrastructure.”

“Which we don’t have.”

“Yet.”

Daniel stared at the error logs piling in the lower corner of the soulglass projection. Buffer overloads. Storage mismatches. Bandwidth bleed.

“You’ve built the software. But if this is going to scale, you need a whole network infrastructure behind it.”

Daniel’s voice was quiet. “We are going to have to tackle the MageNet.”

“Exactly. And let’s make sure we change the name when we are done with it.”

He turned his chair toward the auxiliary console and pulled up the data map.

Three lab nodes. One stretch of an experimental relay station.

A joke.

If the Framework was going to scale—if it was going to run simulations, store feedback across cities, deliver peak human-class cultivation support—he needed a data backbone. A magical network that was encrypted, flexible, and distributed.

“You’ll need permission,” Ethan said.

“And resources. Access. Land.”

“Money.”

Daniel let his hands fall from the keyboard.

“I hate this part.”

“You’re not asking for favors. You’re investing in survival. If what Shen Duyi said is true—about the soul fractures, the accelerated breakthroughs—then the System isn’t just important. It’s critical. It’s the only tool with a chance of stabilizing our forces for what’s coming.”

“Which means we need a team.” He exhaled. “A real one.”

“You need partners. Experts. People who’ll can take the information and bloody use it.”

“And enough cash flow to rebuild the damn Tower if it falls.”

They both sat in that silence for a moment.

Then Ethan said: “Want to make a new list?”

Daniel opened a new file.

[Critical Project Dependencies]

He stared at the cursor for a second.

Then typed:

* Soul-link ritual

* Divine Moonsteel

* Library annotation team

* Technique testers

* Sensor infrastructure

* Relay lattice (MageNet v0.1)

* Energy capture and transfer system

* Redundant storage modules

* Money

He paused on that last one. Then bolded it.

“Money,” he said aloud.

“A lot of it,” Ethan agreed.

Daniel leaned forward, pulled up a clean screen, and started outlining options.

[Funding Strategy: Initial Proposals]

Make money

* Lease system fragments to sects?

* Commercial combat feedback modules?

* Sell diagnostic tools?

Too slow. Too public. Risk of theft or mimicry.

Ask for money

* From House Li?

* From the Zhou house?

* From the Crown?

* From the private guild network?

Comes with oversight, politics, long-term strings.

Steal money

* Divert unclaimed funding lines in House Li logistics.

* Funnel through “classified research” budget entries.

* Reallocate dormant royal initiative funds (there’s always some).

Morally gray. Logistically dangerous. Also... kind of fun.

Daniel stared at the screen. Then smirked.

“A righteous bandit,” he murmured.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ethan said, voice dry.

“If I can’t ask for help, and I don’t have time to earn it…”

“...then maybe you take what you need to protect what matters.”

Daniel sat back, eyes narrowing.

“MageNet 2.0 changes everything. Once it’s up, it won’t just be a communication tool. It’ll be a command structure. And when the war starts... the Empire is going to need it.”

“Which means,” Ethan added, “we’ll have to get the Crown involved. Whether we want to or not.”

Daniel grimaced.

“Better to bring them in before they bring us in. On their terms.”

He sat quietly for a moment, then opened another document:

[Operational Pitch: Framework & MageNet 2.0 Deployment Plan]

And started outlining what would become his first state-backed technological revolution.