The moment Lin Yuan stopped choking on the potato, the blue window chimed again—like an impatient secretary.
DING!
[Would you like a quick tour of the Celestial Orphanage System™?]
[Yes] — [No, let me painfully guess] — [Is there a refund policy?]
Lin squinted.
—"Do you come with customer service or just sarcasm?"
[Yes.]
He rolled his eyes and tapped [Yes].
Immediately, new windows sprouted like weeds in a summer garden.
[Main Functions Unlocked:]
• Celestial Store
• Card Extraction & Fusion
• Talent Gacha Roulette
• Director's Inventory
• Beginner's Pack (Unopened, Procrastinator Detected)
The store caught his attention.
He touched it. The window expanded with a glow that screamed You're broke, but window shopping is free.
Inside? Everything.
There were rice sacks. Smartphone batteries. Cultivation manuals with names like Heaven-Crushing Palm of the Lonely Sun God stacked next to self-help books like 7 Habits of Highly Effective Hermits.
"...Is that pepper spray?" Lin blinked. "Right next to Meteor Spell?"
The system pinged helpfully.
[Everything you need to survive, thrive, or traumatize your enemies.]
Sure. Why not.
The Card Extraction and Fusion tab looked deceptively simple: a pair of glowing gloves, a circular altar, and a suspiciously dramatic chant in the background.
[Extract Potential. Fuse Talents. Create Legends.]
It reminded Lin of a cheesy ad. But the explanation was... impressive.
Apparently, every being had buried potential—sometimes dormant, sometimes cursed. The system could extract those as cards. Think Pokémon, but with higher emotional trauma. Then you could merge them, refine them, or imprint them onto a kid like spiritual sticker albums.
Lin paused.
"Wait... so I can customize each orphan's growth like they're RPG characters?"
[Disclaimer: Please refrain from treating children like collectible cards. You are still legally responsible.]
Lin snorted.
Then he saw the Talent Gacha Roulette.
The interface was... flashy.
A massive wheel spun before him, icons ranging from low-level skills like [Quick Nap] to mythical ones like [Phoenix-Born Bloodline]. Right now, it was grayed out.
He figured he'd tidy up the shack first and go pick up the kids who had agreed to leave the city with him. Until he remembered...
"The Beginner's Box!"
He opened it.
DING!
[Congratulations! You've received:]
• 1x Golden Roulette Ticket (High-Rank Talent Guaranteed)
• 3x Moderate Satiety Potatoes™
• 1x Underwear of Resilience (Stain-Resistant)
Lin stared.
—"More potatoes? And... this is supposed to be my lucky underwear?"
[You don't get it. Stat bonus: +3 Endurance, +5 Dignity Recovery.]
He ignored the insult. For now.
But the Golden Ticket... that was different.
The system grew theatrical as it hovered toward the roulette.
DING!
[Activating Talent Gacha with Golden Ticket...]
The wheel spun. Faster. Brighter. So flashy it reminded Lin of those shady online slot ads.
Then it slowed.
Slower...
Tic...
Tic...
PING!
[Congratulations! You've obtained:]
Skill: Jade Emperor's Eye
Type: Divine Talent / Cosmic Perception
Grade: ???
Bound to Host
Lin blinked.
"...Do I have an eye now?"
The system unfurled like a proud parent at a science fair.
[Skill: Jade Emperor's Eye]
Passive Effect: Vision of Potential
You can see hidden talents, emotional imbalances, and cultivation affinities in anyone you directly observe.
Active Effect: Revelation of Destiny
Once per day, through deep focus, glimpse fragments of a person's possible futures. Use sparingly. May cause headaches, emotional damage, or existential crisis.
Warning: Overuse may deplete mental reserves. The system is not responsible for accidental prophecy addiction.
Lin sat back, reading through the ability.
For the first time in seventeen years, he didn't just feel lucky.
He felt... chosen.
He had always believed people could be more than they appeared.
Now he could see it.
And more importantly—he could shape it.
But first, he gestured to finally inspect the Spiritual Technique from the beginner rewards.
[Spiritual Technique: Tranquil Willow Breathing]
Rank: Mortal Grade (Upgradeable)
Effect: Stabilizes spiritual energy. Improves focus, recovery rate, and sleep quality. Removes minor demonic influence and bad breath.
[Note: A solid foundation for beginners. Also good for anxious orphans.]
Lin approved. Impressive.
He crossed his legs, tried the breathing for a few seconds—and immediately felt the potato digest smoother.
But this wasn't the time for enlightenment.
Not yet.
It was time to act.
He fortified the shack in the mountains—plugged holes, scared off pests, added a symbolic rock he declared "sacred" to make it look more mystical.
Then he stood, cracked his neck, and marched toward the city.
In the outskirts, a group of ragged children already watched him: three boys and a girl, half-starved and half-suspicious. One waved.
"Hey, Boss Lin! Did you really get the land?"
Lin grinned smugly.
—"Better. I got a promise of change."
They looked confused.
He spread his arms.
—"Want food? A roof that doesn't try to kill you at night? Want to be more than just survivors?"
They stared.
"Then follow me. Welcome to Dawn's Refuge."
He turned and headed back to his little wooden shack.
Behind him, steps followed—curious, hesitant, but hopeful.
After all, these were the kids he'd looked after for years, the ones who chose to come with him to the orphanage.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, the system hummed softly.
[Mission Progress: Recruit Your First Orphan – 1/1]
[Reward: +50 Points | +1 Random Skill Unlocking Soon]
Lin Yuan smiled.
Ever since he had obtained the Jade Emperor's Eye, Lin Yuan could see it clearly.
The children were surrounded by a faint aura—one that no ordinary eye could perceive. From a distance, each one radiated a muted gray, except for the girl, Xiao Lian, who occasionally flickered with a deep violet when she thought no one was watching.
But the moment they saw him, all four were instantly cloaked in a soft blue.
It didn't take a genius—or even a divine system—to see it: these children cared.
And if the system had marked the mission "Recruit Your First Orphan" as complete, it could only mean one thing: at least one of them had potential. Something real. Something worth nurturing.
Lin turned to face them, a half-smile playing on his lips.
—"So… how have you been while I was away?"
They sat beneath the old crooked oak by the roadside, forming a lopsided circle. Between shy laughter and bursts of mischief, they began recounting their exploits: how Zhenglian had tried selling pebbles as "dragon eggs" to drunk merchants; how Roman had tricked a rooster into chasing the butcher across three streets. Xiao Lian had stolen bread—not for herself, but for a limping stray dog. And Ben… Ben had managed to get blamed for everything, smiling like it had been his plan all along.
Lin listened quietly, and then activated his skill.
DING.
Small blue screens unfolded before his eyes—one for each child. Only he could see them.
[Name: Zhenglian]
Race: Human
Profession: None
Talent: —
Status: Restless / Loyal
[Name: Roman]
Race: Half-Elf (Hidden)
Profession: None
Talent: —
Status: Clever / Distrustful
[Name: Ben]
Race: Human
Profession: —
Talent: [Elegance]
Type: Social / Charisma
Description: Enhances presence, persuasive speech, and adaptable behavior. Ideal for mediation, infiltration, or leadership.
[Name: Xiao Lian]Race:Veilblood/ HumanProfession: -Talent: [Deathweaver] (Dormant)An affinity for precision, silence, and threads unseen. The path has yet to open, but the seed is there. Latent traits suggest instinctual understanding of weakness and fate entanglement.
Lin narrowed his eyes.
—"So... a charming diplomat and a chaos artist."
He sighed. "Perfect."
Looking at them now, he felt something he hadn't felt in years—a sense of responsibility, and more than that, a calling. These weren't just orphans. They were possibilities. Pieces in a larger game. Seeds that might grow into something the world could never have expected.
And he... he was the gardener.
—"From today on," he said, the sun filtering through the leaves, "we're not just surviving. We're becoming something the world can't ignore."
The children's eyes sparkled—not just at the promise of food or shelter. But at something deeper.
A future.
The story of the slum boss was over.
The story of the orphan master had just begun.