Alexander stood in the middle of the room, his muscles throbbing from an intense training session. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he noticed something strange. His five senses sharpened—he could hear distant conversations outside the orphanage, the faint rustling of leaves, and even the soft scurrying of tiny creatures in the walls. His vision seemed clearer, and a strange tingling coursed through his body, indicating newfound strength.
Before he could marvel too long at these sensations, something else caught his attention. A thick, black substance began to ooze from his pores, coating his skin in a foul-smelling layer. The stench hit him like a brick wall, and Alexander instinctively pinched his nose, grimacing in disgust.
"Damn, is this… impurities?" he muttered, stepping back from the odor. "It smells worse than I imagined... just like in those novels."
He held his breath, but the scent clung to him like a bad memory. Black gunk dripped from him, staining the floor beneath his feet. Despite his mental preparation, he hadn't anticipated the sheer nastiness of it.
"Couldn't this cleansing process come with a little less… stink?" he muttered under his breath, glancing at the mess on the floor with a sigh. The books had made purification sound grand, conveniently leaving out the unbearable stench.
With one last look at the black grime, Alexander hurried toward the bath. "First training, now this… being 'great' sure comes with a lot of cleaning up."
After what felt like hours of scrubbing, Alexander emerged from the bath, his skin raw and red from the effort. He hadn't wanted to leave a trace of that foul-smelling substance on him, and now he looked like he had fought a battle with a scrub brush—and lost. But he was clean, and that was what mattered.
Throwing on fresh clothes, he wasted no time and headed straight for the old man's house. His muscles still felt strangely refreshed, the newfound strength pulsing through him as he walked.
On the way, an absurd thought popped into his head: If the old man is right-handed… how does he… uh… take care of himself?
Alexander immediately shook his head, disgusted with himself for even thinking that. What am I doing? He pressed a hand to his forehead, exhaling sharply. Acting like a child is definitely messing with my mind.
He tried to reason with himself, muttering, "I'm Alexander the Great. Focus on strength, focus on power… not these ridiculous thoughts." He nodded seriously, as if convincing himself that this stray idea was merely a side effect of his current circumstances.
Despite his internal struggle, a slight smirk tugged at his lips as he quickened his pace toward the old man's house, determined to leave the absurd thought behind—at least for now.
As Alexander approached, he spotted the old man lounging in his usual spot, eyes half-closed, seemingly undisturbed by the world.
Switching to his "cute mode," Alexander ran up, puffing out his cheeks and adopting an innocent, wide-eyed look. "Gramps, look! I finally did it!" he exclaimed, excitement bubbling in his voice.
The old man opened his eyes, a fond smile spreading across his face. As expected... He really is a prodigy, the old man thought, amazed at how quickly Alexander had grasped the Body Tempering technique.
"Good, good!" the old man laughed heartily. "With this, it should only take a month for you to officially reach the first stage of Body Tempering!"
Alexander's expression twisted in confusion, and he shot the old man a strange look. Crossing his arms, he puffed his cheeks again. "Gramps, you're underestimating me. I've already reached the first stage!"
The old man stared at him in disbelief, his smile fading as his eyes narrowed. In a low voice, he muttered, "Reached the first stage in a week…"
He paused, then suddenly his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Boy, come here. Hit me with your full strength."
Alexander blinked, though he wasn't entirely surprised by the request. He knew the old man wasn't as weak as he appeared. Beneath that frail exterior lay the strength of a 9-stage Body Tempering expert. Alexander understood that this man could probably stop his punch without moving a muscle, but still, he was curious.
Suppressing his hesitation, he nodded. Clenching his fist, he felt the surge of power in his muscles. Even though he knew the old man was far beyond him in strength, a flicker of excitement ignited within him—a need to test his own limits.
He swung his arm, channeling all his strength into the punch. The old man stood casually, hands at his sides, anticipating the strike. But the moment Alexander's fist connected with his body, the old man's muscles tensed, compressing under the force. His feet shifted, and to his shock, he stumbled back two steps.
"What... how does this kid have so much strength?" he thought internally, his expression momentarily serious.
Alexander, watching closely, noticed the slight movement. "How was it, Gramps?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Regaining his composure, the old man stood tall, one hand tucked behind his back, imitating the air of an unshaken master. "Well, not bad," he said, his voice calm but a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "A 1-ton force at the first stage… many can do that."
He tried to mask his surprise, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed him.
Hearing the old man's casual remark about many achieving such strength, Alexander felt a twinge of dissatisfaction. "I have to work harder," he thought, determination swelling within him. He expected more praise, especially after such a grueling week, but now it seemed like his effort was just average.
Unbeknownst to him, the old man had intentionally downplayed his achievement. "I can't let this kid get arrogant," he mused. In reality, a peak first-stage Body Tempering expert could only generate about 0.6 tons of force. The difference between mortals and early cultivators wasn't vast yet, but Alexander had surpassed it by a mile.
Suppressing a grin, the old man glanced at the boy. "No need for him to know that just yet," he thought. This was only the beginning of cultivation—far greater things lay ahead.
Reaching inside his house, the old man handed Alexander two thin, worn books. Each was tattered from use, their covers barely legible. One read "Wind Steps" and the other, "Tiger Fist."
"Practice these," the old man instructed, voice steady. "These martial arts techniques will be useful in battles between Body Tempering Experts. Wind Steps will enhance your speed and mobility, while Tiger Fist will sharpen your offensive capabilities."
Alexander nodded, grateful but excited. He tucked the books under his arm, eager to delve into their teachings. After a quick farewell, he set off home, already envisioning how to incorporate these techniques into his training.
As he walked, something unusual caught his attention. His enhanced senses, sharper after his breakthrough, picked up faint yet unmistakable noises in the distance—a low, menacing growl, followed by the soft rustling of leaves. These were sounds he had never heard before.
Curiosity piqued, Alexander veered off his path, following the unfamiliar noises into a dense thicket. His steps were quiet, calculated. Moments later, he emerged into a small clearing, where a scene sent a chill down his spine.
A strange, oversized creature stood in the clearing, resembling a rabbit but nearly a meter tall, with blood-red eyes gleaming menacingly. Its expression was terrifying, sharp teeth bared as it sniffed the air. This was no ordinary animal.
What truly caught Alexander's eye was a small black cat, lying injured beneath a tree. Its sleek fur was matted with dirt and blood, eyes wide and alert, locked onto the menacing creature poised to pounce.
Alexander's heart raced. "What is that thing?" he whispered, danger evident in the air. Without thinking, he positioned himself to intervene.
He crept closer, movements swift yet calculated. The creature's attention was fully on the injured black cat, but it turned when Alexander's presence broke the tension.
Glancing at the cat, barely clinging to life, then back at the oversized creature, Alexander frowned, thoughts spiraling.
"It seems being reborn and living a more… compassionate life has really messed with my mind," he reflected, irritation brewing. In his previous life, he had been calm, detached, uninterested in most things. The dreams that plagued him dulled his emotions, leaving him indifferent. He had always worn a bored expression, as if nothing in the world could stir his heart.
Since his rebirth, however, those dreams had ceased. With their absence came an unexpected shift in mentality. The innocence of childhood, the warmth of the orphanage, the kindness of the old man and woman—they were changing him, softening him in ways he had never anticipated.
Now, here he was, about to involve himself in something trivial—saving a stray, injured cat from a predator. He would never have made such a decision before.
"Have I really changed that much?" he mused, irritated by the thought. Yet despite his inner conflict, his body moved on instinct, driven by a new impulse.
Shaking his head, Alexander clenched his fists. "Acting like a child is definitely messing with my mind," he muttered under his breath, as if trying to convince himself. But deep down, he recognized that this transformation was more than just childish behavior—something fundamental had shifted within him since his rebirth.
Still, he couldn't just stand by and watch.
With a sigh, Alexander moved into action, stepping between the cat and the predator. His eyes locked with the rabbit-like creature's glowing red ones. In that moment, he felt a flicker of his old self—calm, unflinching, cold—but alongside it was a hint of determination, a newfound resolve born from this second life.
"Alright," he whispered, his hand twitching in anticipation. "Let's see what this body can do."
As he stood between the black cat and the ominous creature, adrenaline coursed through his veins. The rabbit-like beast lunged forward, its long limbs propelling it with startling speed. With a flick of its powerful legs, it aimed for his midsection.
Instinct kicked in. Alexander sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the creature's attack. The moment he dodged, he retaliated with a punch, throwing all his weight into the blow. The impact reverberated through his arm as his fist connected with the creature's side.
To his surprise, the beast staggered back but quickly regained its footing, red eyes glaring at him. They circled each other, both assessing their strengths and weaknesses.
At first, their strength seemed evenly matched. The creature was agile, its movements quick and unpredictable, while Alexander's newfound strength felt clumsy in comparison. He struggled to keep up with its erratic attacks, narrowly avoiding a few strikes that could have taken him down.
"Damn, this thing is tougher than it looks," he muttered, frustration bubbling within him. But he wasn't one to back down.
Remembering the old man's teachings about perseverance, he pushed through the difficulties. With each exchanged blow, he felt the rhythm of the fight more clearly. It was as if he was finally finding his footing, the movements becoming second nature.
With renewed focus, Alexander harnessed the strength within him, allowing his instincts to guide him. He started to anticipate the creature's attacks, dodging and weaving with increasing ease. Every time he landed a hit, a surge of energy coursed through him.
Then it happened—a shift in momentum. He saw an opening when the creature overextended itself after a failed attack. With a fierce battle cry, he channeled all his energy into one decisive blow, a powerful uppercut that connected with the creature's chin.
The impact echoed through the clearing as the creature was thrown back, its body slamming into the ground. It writhed for a moment before lying still. Alexander stood over it, chest heaving, a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through him.
As he caught his breath, the creature lay motionless at his feet. He blinked down at it, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. He had killed it, yet oddly, he felt nothing about it.
"Guess that's just how it goes," he muttered, shrugging as he glanced back at the black cat. It looked up at him with wide, grateful eyes, still trembling under the tree.
With a smirk, he said, "Don't worry, little one. You're safe now." His voice was light, almost playful, as if the encounter had been a game. He brushed his hands together, shaking off the dirt and remnants of the fight.
He turned to leave, heading back home with an unusual lightness in his step. "Maybe it's just those dreams I used to have," he pondered, recalling the vivid adventures that had plagued his nights.
As Alexander turned to leave, he didn't notice the black cat inching closer, its gaze fixated on the small wound on his right hand. With a sudden flick of its tongue, it licked the blood that trickled from the injury.
In an instant, a tingling warmth spread through the air. Alexander paused for a moment, feeling a strange energy pulse around him, but he brushed it off as he prepared to walk away. Unbeknownst to him, the black cat's eyes glowed a bright blue, and the fur around its previous injury shimmered with a mysterious light.
Suddenly, a translucent blue screen appeared before the cat, hovering in the air:
<Mysterious blood devoured: Initializing analysis...>
The cat stared at the glowing text, its expression shifting from curiosity to surprise as the information continued to fill its vision:
<Warning: Unexpected reaction detected.>
Meanwhile, Alexander continued on his way, oblivious to the unfolding event behind him.
To Be Continued...