At the End of Drought, He Wrote the Rules

Zhou Zhen was copying damaged manuals in a dry city when a single brush stroke woke real power in his hands. He had spent fifteen years on one problem, and finishing it let him see the base rules of power like lines on paper. That should have been a victory. Instead, it made him useful to schools, officials, and people who wanted his notes buried. Zhou only wanted to restore a lost method and protect the dry district that relied on him, but every new answer asked for another piece of his old life. The founder's incense holder on his belt and the rice tag hidden in a tea caddy kept drawing trouble to his door. The person blocking him hardest knew exactly what his writing could do.