Chen Feng blinked. Stars swam before his eyes—not real stars, cave stars. But still sparkly, for cave stars anyway.
He pushed himself up slowly. Everything ached, like he'd wrestled a mountain. And lost, judging by the aches.
"Okay, wow," he thought, wincing as he moved his arms. That explosion thing was definitely not his favorite hobby, even if he was stuck being immortal. Dying wasn't fun, even if it didn't stick.
He glanced around. Crystal shards crunched under him, making a delicate, glassy sound. The whole cavern floor glittered—like someone had emptied a giant disco ball piñata.
All the crystals he'd been so happy about collecting were now just… sparkly gravel. Well, at least *they* weren't blocking his way up anymore. Silver linings and explosions, a great combo really.
He looked up at the fissure, a jagged tear in the rock face, leading upwards. Yeah, climbing that seemed a lot less crystal-obstacle-course-y now.
Time to ascend then. He scrambled up the now-clear rock face, handholds blessedly free of stabby crystal protrusions. Progress through unintentional explosions—who knew?
Reaching the top edge, he hauled himself over. He landed in a heap, sprawling onto the cave floor like a starfish impersonator.
And then he saw it. His throne. Or what was left of it. Poor thing. Scattered pieces of carved wood lay around, looking very un-throne-like.
"Noooo!" Chen Feng cried out dramatically, more for effect than actual sadness. Okay, maybe a little actual sadness—he *had* spent ages on that throne. Still, drama was important, even in caves.
His kingdom, it seemed, had been shaken. Not utterly destroyed, but definitely…re-arranged. The explosion's shockwave had clearly reached further than just the lower cavern.
Then he noticed something else—or rather, *didn't* notice something else. Namely, clothes. Looking down confirmed his fears. He was stark naked again.
"Oh, come ON!" he groaned, exasperated. Exploding always resulted in wardrobe malfunctions, didn't it? Inconvenient explosions and indecent exposure—his immortal life, summed up in two annoying points.
Clothes later though. More pressing matters at hand, or at least in the cave roof, namely that fissure. He gazed back at it, that raw, glowing crack in reality.
The qi pouring from it definitely felt…stronger up here. Noticeably so. He could feel it prickling his skin, filling his lungs with each breath—intense but…bearable. Maybe even good.
Top cave, more qi, no crystals blocking the way out, throne demolished, naked. Right, priorities check time. New clothes, new seat, and…seriously think about that qi thing.
"Cultivation, huh?" he pondered aloud, scratching his bare chin. If he was stuck here, and he had all this qi… maybe it was time to actually learn to use it, for real this time.
The village herb gathering hadn't worked out, no talent, boo hoo. But maybe *this* was different. Maybe this insane qi cave was his talent cheat code. Immortal cheat codes should be a thing, anyway.
His poor throne, in pieces. It deserved respect. And a second life. "Throne-bed," he declared. "Yeah, that's it. Throne-bed memorial project. Honoring the fallen throne with comfy sleeping arrangements."
He could use the salvaged throne wood, maybe combine it with some crystals if any were still usable after… *the incident*. Make a bed fit for a… well, fit for him.
Cultivation-home improvement project. That's what this was. Qi cave renovations and self-powering up. It was a plan, at least. And planning was better than just staring naked at a crack in the ceiling.
"Right," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. Time to get to work. "Operation Throne-Bed Memorial: Commence!"
***
First things first, decency. Nakedness could wait for private qi baths, not throne-bed construction. He needed clothes, or at least something resembling clothes.
Leafy vines again? Cave moss toga? He really was going to be cave-couture's next big thing at this rate. Or maybe cave-couture's *only* thing. Slim pickings in the fashion department, down here.
He wandered towards the garden cavern, sighing dramatically. Vines and grasses it was then. Again. At least he was getting good at vine-weaving. Immortal vine-weaving expert—another skill for the totally non-existent resume.
Back in the plant cavern, sunlight filtered gently, mist swirling softly. Normal cave, crystal cave, garden cave. His little underground biosphere of weirdness.
He gathered sturdy vines and broad leaves, piling them up near where his ruined dwelling used to be. Operation: Cover Up the Feng was underway simultaneously with Operation: Throne-Bed Memorial. Multi-tasking immortal caveman was go!
After some surprisingly quick weaving—years of cave-dwelling practice paying off!—he had a makeshift tunic of vines and leaves. Dusty and a little singed from… well, *that*. But, modestly restored, thank goodness.
"Fashionably acceptable," he judged, surveying himself in the still pond. Rustic chic, cave edition. Move over, Paris, make way for… cave-Paris. Cave-ris? Okay, needed to work on that branding too.
Clothes, check. Modesty, restored. Now, throne bed. He trekked back to the explosion cavern, new vine-tunic swishing around his legs, feeling only slightly less exposed.
The devastation hit him again. Rocks everywhere, crystal glitter… and broken throne pieces looking even sadder now, scattered across the slightly exploded cavern floor. Poor, poor throne.
He knelt down, picking up a piece of carved wood. Smooth, sturdy, still solid despite its fragmented state. Not completely unsalvageable. In fact… this could work.
Throne wood… was now bed wood. A noble sacrifice. He gathered the larger pieces, carefully sorting through the rubble. Time to give the throne a dignified second act as a bed fit for qi-cultivating immortals. Or, at least, fit for him.
As he worked, a thought wormed its way into his mind. That fissure. And qi cultivation. He *could* just make a bed and ignore the energy source crack, pretend it wasn't humming with power, vibrating with potential.
But… no. That felt wrong. Like ignoring a giant, flashing neon sign screaming 'POWER UP HERE, IDIOT!'. Ignoring signs wasn't his strong suit, especially neon, qi-powered, and potentially idiot-calling signs.
The qi was stronger up here, definitely. Bareable, yes. But… potent. And he had those crystals—well, *shattered* crystals—and now, a fissure that felt…important. Qi source important.
"Seriously cultivate," he muttered, considering the phrase. Like those cultivators in towns, always meditating, chanting, drawing qi into themselves with complicated poses. He'd tried all that before. Epic fail.
But… maybe *this* was the real cultivation deal. Not fancy stances and chanting. Maybe just…absorbing this crazy powerful qi from the fissure and these recharge-rock crystals. Properly this time so he doesn't explode, Simpler was better, right? Especially for talentless herb gatherers turned accidental immortals.
Home improvement… plus power up project. He liked that. He liked it a lot. Throne bed construction could wait a little longer. Qi cave cultivation initiation was calling. And he, Chen Feng, was definitely going to answer.
That *call* from the fissure though… it wasn't just stronger qi. It was something else entirely. A pull. A tug on… something deep inside him.
Like the cave itself was whispering. Beckoning him closer to that raw crack in reality. And now that his head was a bit clearer, he was really starting to *feel* it.
A deep, almost primal urge. To get closer. To investigate. To… maybe even jump right into that glowing tear. Okay, probably not jump. Probably.
But still, the draw was undeniable. A magnetic force, except instead of metal and magnets, it was… him and pure, uncut qi crackling in a rock fissure. Subtle differences.
It was a bit unnerving, sure. Exploding had that effect. But mostly… mostly it was intensely interesting. Neon signs and now magnetic fissures. The cave was really stepping up its game, entertainment-wise.
He made his way down the crack where the qi pond was originally at. And took a hesitant step towards the fissure, then another. The pull intensified with each step, growing stronger, more insistent. Like the fissure was actually… reacting to him?
That was probably just his imagination getting carried away. Caves didn't have feelings. Fissures didn't have magnets. Reality cracks didn't have… personal invitations.
Unless… unless this cave wasn't quite as ordinary as it looked. Okay, scratch "ordinary." This cave was bonkers weird. But maybe weird in a *deliberately* weird way?
He stopped a few feet from the fissure edge, peering up into its raw, glowing depths. The qi pouring from it felt… different up close. More… textured. Like he could almost *see* it now, not just feel it.
Like heat haze above hot pavement, but… qi-haze above super-qi-fissure? Words were failing him here. Cave-dictionary needed an urgent update.
The glow from within pulsed again, and Chen Feng felt another, stronger tug. Less like a whisper now, more like a… firm hand, gently pulling him forward.
And this time, he didn't resist.
He took another step. And another. Drawn in by the unknown, the mysterious, the sheer, undeniable… *qi-ness* of it all. His throne bed could wait just a little longer. The fissure was calling. And Chen Feng was going to answer, one slightly apprehensive step at a time.