GENISIS OF THE TOWER BORN

The first tremor wasn't an external shock, but an internal thrum, a subtle vibration that ran through Harish's bones as he stirred from a fitful, dream-haunted sleep. He lay on a surprisingly comfortable mat within a simple, communal resting area of the Gateway of Trials, the mist-shrouded valley still whispering outside. His initial instinct, even before opening his eyes, was to pat his pocket for his phone. Still dead. Still useless. He gritted his teeth, a fresh wave of frustration battling the lingering fear from yesterday's sudden arrival and the abrupt encounter with the scuttler. Lyra's words echoed in his mind: You must learn to defend yourself, Outsider. Or you will not survive.

As full consciousness returned, so did that strange, exhilarating internal sensation. It felt like his blood was humming, his muscles subtly tightening, his mind a fraction sharper. This wasn't just residual adrenaline; it was a profound, systemic shift. He focused, concentrating on the feeling, and something clicked. An invisible interface, shimmering faintly in his mind's eye, materialized. It was exactly as he'd imagined from countless web novels, yet intensely, terrifyingly real.

[Harish – Attribute Panel]

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Physical Essence: XXXX

Soul Force: XXXX

System Buffs:

- Daily Attribute Double (Active)

- Infinite EXP Growth (No Cap)

Special Abilities:

- Copy-All Library (Instant Mastery)

- Sanjeevani Herb Garden

- Crazy Skill Creation

- Chaos-Breaking Divine Perception

He stared at the internal display, a surge of incredulous wonder washing over him. The XXXX placeholders mocked him, offering no concrete numbers, but the Daily Attribute Double (Active) shimmered, undeniable. He felt it. A boundless well of potential, his Infinite EXP Growth, waited. And then the truly bewildering abilities: Copy-All Library, Sanjeevani Herb Garden, Crazy Skill Creation, Chaos-Breaking Divine Perception. He was a walking cheat code, dropped into a world of magic and martial arts. The phrase "silent anomaly" from his own thoughts felt prophetic. No one could see this. This was his secret, his impossible advantage.

He pushed himself up, testing his limbs. His body felt lighter, stronger, more responsive than it had yesterday. A deep breath filled his lungs, the air tasting cleaner, richer. He could almost feel the subtle currents of energy Lyra had called 'ki' now, a faint, tantalizing whisper just beyond his grasp. It was like seeing a blurry object suddenly snap into partial focus. This buff was real.

Determined, Harish slipped out of the communal sleeping area. The mist in the valley was still dense, but the sounds from the Martial Lawn were already growing louder. He could hear the rhythmic thud of feet, the sharp snap of whips, and the measured exhalations of practitioners. If he was to survive, he needed to understand this 'ki' and, more importantly, acquire a means of defense. His Copy-All Library was his path.

He found a vantage point at the edge of the sprawling, dew-laden Martial Lawn, near one of the rune-inscribed arches. The early morning light, filtered through the thinning mist, cast long, distorted shadows of the ancient dojos and the statues of legendary champions. The air, cool and fresh, was thick with the invigorating scents of damp earth, a faint, sweet perfume of blossoming flora from the distant Resting Grove, and the ever-present, metallic tang of effort and polished steel.

The Martial Lawn was a beehive of activity. Murim disciples, clad in a kaleidoscope of sect colors—deep crimson for the Orthodox Alliance, vibrant emerald for a nimble, unknown sect, stark black for others—moved with breathtaking precision. Their movements were a symphony of power and grace, a ballet of controlled violence. He watched one group, perhaps a dozen young men and women, repeat a foundational punching form. Their punches weren't just thrusts of a fist; they were entire body movements, fluid and connected. He could almost see the invisible force rippling through them, the ki Lyra had spoken of.

He focused intently, allowing his Chaos-Breaking Divine Perception to subtly activate. His vision didn't change, but suddenly, the movements seemed to slow, to unravel into their component parts. He saw the shift of weight, the tensing of specific muscles, the precise angle of the wrist, the minute adjustments of the spine. He observed how the force generated from the ground, traveled up the legs, through the core, and exploded into the fist. It was like seeing the matrix code behind reality, the underlying physics of force. As he watched, a young woman, her face a mask of fierce concentration, executed a series of quick, sharp jabs. Her movements were clean, but Harish's newly enhanced perception caught a flicker of inefficiency, a slight overextension in her lead arm.

As his mind absorbed the intricacies, a new, distinct mental prompt shimmered in his awareness:

[Basic Murim Striking Form] witnessed. Add to Copy-All Library? Y/N

Harish felt a jolt of exhilaration. Yes! he thought, a wave of confirmation flowing from his conscious mind into the ethereal interface.

[Basic Murim Striking Form] added to Copy-All Library. Mastery: Beginner.

Almost immediately, another notification popped up:

[Basic Murim Striking Form] Instant Mastery achieved.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over him. It wasn't just intellectual understanding; it was a muscle memory, an innate knowing. His body remembered the form, the rhythm, the flow, even though he had never practiced it. This was beyond simulation; it was direct integration.

He found a secluded spot near a cluster of old, battered training dummies, far enough from the main groups to avoid immediate scrutiny. He took a stance, mimicking the precise footwork he had just witnessed. His body moved with an uncanny fluidity, each muscle responding perfectly. He threw a punch, a simple straight jab, and felt a faint, internal thrum. It wasn't the powerful qi blast of the Masters, but it was more than just a regular punch. It felt connected, efficient. He tried again, feeling the power surge from his core. The air around his fist seemed to compress slightly. He was actually doing it.

As he practiced, his movements growing smoother, more confident with each repetition, he felt a gaze on him. He subtly shifted his eyes, using his peripheral vision. Lyra, the elf from yesterday, stood a short distance away, observing him with that same unnervingly calm intensity. She hadn't approached, but her presence was a silent acknowledgment. He wondered if his 'rapid growth' was already evident to someone like her, someone who could 'sense ki'.

"Your aptitude is… unusual, Outsider," Lyra's voice, soft but clear, reached him. She glided closer, her steps silent on the dew-kissed grass. "You pick up the basics faster than any I've seen. Yet you carry no qi, no internal cultivation." Her brow furrowed slightly, a rare hint of confusion crossing her serene features. "It is as if your body knows, but your spirit does not."

Harish merely offered a noncommittal shrug, continuing his practice. "I'm a quick learner," he muttered, hoping his feigned nonchalance would mask the impossible truth. He couldn't explain his system; he wouldn't. This was his secret weapon.

He noticed Lyra's gaze drift towards a particularly athletic group of practitioners. One of them, a woman with incredibly muscular, defined arms and a stern, analytical expression, was engaged in a fierce sparring match. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical in their efficiency, each strike designed to find a weakness. Harish's mind immediately connected the description of Soo-jin, "The Analytical Martial Artist." Her style was starkly different from the fluid, traditional Murim forms he'd just copied, relying more on raw power and strategic strikes. Harish's Chaos-Breaking Divine Perception flared, not showing flaws in her form, but revealing the calculated efficiency of her attacks, almost like a flow chart of combat options. It was fascinating. He knew, instinctively, that given time and observation, he could copy that too.

Just then, a heavy shadow fell over him. The scowling Orthodox Alliance member from yesterday, the one who'd rudely bumped him, stood over him, flanked by two equally grim-faced companions. "Still playing at warrior, Outsider?" the leader sneered, his voice laced with disdain. "You're a tourist here, a distraction. Get out of the training grounds before you get properly hurt."

Harish felt a flicker of annoyance, but it was overshadowed by a cold, calculated calm. The Daily Attribute Double was still active. He could feel the latent power. He had a skill now. He wasn't entirely defenseless.

"I'm training," Harish replied, his voice steadier than he expected. "Just like everyone else."

"Training?" The man scoffed, then delivered a contemptuous kick towards Harish's makeshift training dummy. It was a powerful, qi-infused blow that shattered the wooden post into splinters with a loud crack. "That's how you train? Like a child. Here, let me show you how a real Murim warrior prepares." He took a step forward, his hand raising, a clear intention to strike Harish.

Harish didn't panic. His Chaos-Breaking Divine Perception saw the opening, the trajectory, the slight shift in the man's weight. He saw the anger in his eyes, the lack of true focus. The man was arrogant, underestimating him.

Before the Orthodox warrior's hand could connect, Harish moved. It wasn't a complex move, just a simple pivot and a quick, clean jab – the Basic Murim Striking Form he'd just learned, amplified by his doubled attributes. His fist didn't connect with the man's face, but instead, with a surprising amount of force, blocked his wrist, redirecting the blow with unexpected power. The Orthodox warrior grunted, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't expected any resistance, let alone such precise control from a mere "Outsider."

Harish quickly retreated a step, maintaining a neutral expression. "I learn fast," he stated calmly, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

The Orthodox warrior stared, his scowl deepening as he rubbed his wrist. His companions exchanged confused glances. The brute force they expected wasn't there; instead, there was an unnerving precision, a strange, unreadable quality to Harish's simple movement. They couldn't sense any qi from him, yet he had clearly stopped their leader's attack. Lyra, observing from a short distance, allowed a faint, enigmatic smile to touch her lips.

The air on the Martial Lawn thickened with rising anticipation. Cheers erupted from a nearby sparring ring as a powerful blow sent one participant tumbling. A gong rang again, signaling the start of more duels. Harish felt the familiar internal thrum of his Daily Attribute Double beginning to wane as the morning progressed, but a new kind of power, a profound sense of potential, was taking root. He had taken his first step. He had copied a skill. He had defended himself. The Nexus Tower was a crucible, and he was ready to be forged. His journey into limitless growth had truly begun.