Zhang Wei woke to the sound of bells clanging in the distance. His body ached like he'd been run over by that truck all over again—every muscle sore, every bone creaking. Sunlight streamed through the narrow window of the hall, painting the wooden floor in gold. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his face. For a second, he forgot where he was. Then it hit him: new world, new body, new mess.
"Rise or perish," he muttered, echoing the system's words from yesterday. He smirked despite the pain. "Guess I'm rising."
His stomach growled, loud and angry. He hadn't eaten since… well, since Earth. The old Zhang Wei's memories didn't exactly include a buffet—more like cheap wine and regret. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his ribs complained, and checked the system.
[Basic Qi Awakening: 12% Complete]
[Current Task: Stabilize Foundation]
Progress: 10%
Reward: Beginner's Cultivation Manual
Failure: Qi Deviation (Permanent Damage)
"Still ticking," he said, patting his chest. That faint warmth was there, like a stubborn ember refusing to die. It wasn't much, but it was his lifeline.
The door slid open with a bang. Zhang Huo stood there, arms crossed, his white hair glowing in the morning light. "You're awake. Good. I thought I'd have to drag you out."
Zhang Wei straightened, ignoring the twinge in his back. "I'm up. What's the plan?"
The old man's eyes narrowed, like he was sizing up a stray dog. "Training. You've got qi now—barely. Time to see if you can use it without killing yourself." He turned and walked out, not waiting for a reply.
Zhang Wei followed, limping slightly. The courtyard outside was alive—disciples sparring, servants hauling water, the air thick with shouts and the hum of qi. Zhang Huo led him to a smaller training ground, tucked behind a bamboo grove. It was quieter here, just a flat patch of dirt with a single stone pillar in the center, cracked and weathered.
"Sit," Zhang Huo said, pointing to the ground. "Same as yesterday. Focus your qi. Guide it. Don't force it, or you'll cough up more than blood next time."
Zhang Wei nodded and dropped into a cross-legged position. His heart beat faster—this was it, his first real taste of cultivation. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, searching for that ember again. It flickered, faint but there, buried deep in his chest.
"Come on," he whispered. "Work with me."
The warmth stirred, slow and sluggish. He pictured it like a thread, thin and fragile, winding through his body. It moved—barely—snaking up his spine, then stalling. Pain pricked his chest, sharp but not as bad as yesterday. He gritted his teeth and kept going, nudging the qi along like a kid coaxing a scared cat.
[Qi Flow Detected: 15% Stabilized]
"Yes!" he hissed, a grin tugging at his lips. The thread grew steadier, looping through his arms, his legs. It wasn't strong—just a trickle—but it felt alive.
Zhang Huo's voice cut through. "Not bad. You're not dead yet. Open your eyes."
Zhang Wei blinked. The old man stood over him, holding a wooden staff. "Stand up. Let's see if you can take a hit."
"Wait—what?" Zhang Wei barely got the words out before the staff swung. He yelped and rolled, dirt crunching under him as the wood smacked the ground where he'd been. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"This is training," Zhang Huo said, his tone as calm as stone. "You have qi. Use it to block my attack."
The staff came again, fast and low. Zhang Wei scrambled back, heart pounding. He didn't know how to fight—Earth Zhang Wei had thrown maybe two punches in his life, both at a bar and both terrible. But this body? It had instincts, muscle memory from years of getting beaten down. He ducked, clumsy but quick, and raised his arms.
[Temporary Boost: Agility +1]
The system's chime gave him a split-second edge. The staff grazed his forearm instead of cracking his skull. Pain flared, but he stayed upright, glaring at Zhang Huo. "That's your idea of training?"
The old man smirked—a rare, crooked thing. "You're still standing. That's more than I expected." He stepped back, resting the staff on his shoulder. "Your qi's weak, but it's there. Keep it flowing. Sit again."
Zhang Wei rubbed his arm, muttering curses under his breath, and sat. This time, the qi came easier—like it remembered the path. He guided it, slow and careful, feeling it settle into his bones.
[Task Progress: 25%]
"Better," Zhang Huo said, watching him. "You might not be hopeless after all."
Zhang Wei opened his eyes, wiping sweat from his brow. "Might? I'll take it." He grinned, shaky but real. It was a progress eventhough it is small.
Zhang Huo tossed the staff aside and sat across from him. "Tell me something, boy. Yesterday, you said 'not anymore.' What changed?"
Zhang Wei froze. He couldn't spill the truth—not yet. But the old man's stare demanded something. He shrugged, keeping it vague. "I woke up different. Like… I got a second chance. I'm not wasting it."
Zhang Huo grunted, like he didn't fully buy it but didn't care enough to push. "Fine. Keep that fire. You'll need it. Your father's already talking about disowning you—your brothers too. They'd love to see you gone."
Zhang Wei's jaw tightened. "Let them try."
The old man chuckled again, darker this time. "Bold words. Rest here. We'll go again later." He stood and walked off, leaving Zhang Wei in the dirt.
The courtyard was quiet now, just the rustle of bamboo and the distant clang of sparring. Zhang Wei leaned back, catching his breath. His arm throbbed where the staff had hit, but he didn't care. He'd survived—dodged, blocked, kept going. Back on Earth, he'd have called it a day after one swing. Here, he couldn't afford to stop.
That cave flickered in his mind again—the old Zhang Wei's secret, buried in the eastern woods. A ruin, a barrier, maybe a treasure. He'd been too scared to check it out. "Not me," Zhang Wei muttered. "Tonight. After this."
He closed his eyes, focusing on the qi again. It flowed smoother now, a steady hum under his skin.
[Qi Awakening: 18% Complete]
The number ticked up, slow but sure. He could feel it—strength, tiny but growing. Enough to keep him alive, maybe. Enough to start.
Hours passed. Zhang Huo returned, and they went again—more swings, more dodging. Zhang Wei took a few hits—bruises blooming on his ribs, his legs—but he didn't fall. Each dodge, each block, fed that fire inside him. By midday, his stats crept up:
[Strength: 4 | Agility: 7 | Vitality: 6]
"Not bad," Zhang Huo said, tossing him a water skin. "You're tougher than you look."
Zhang Wei caught it, gulping the cool water. "Thanks, I guess."
The old man sat beside him, staring at the pillar. "Your father wants you in the clan trials next month. Thinks you'll fail—or die. Prove him wrong, and he might shut up."
Zhang Wei smirked. "Trials, huh? I'll be ready."
Zhang Huo didn't reply, just nodded and left again. Zhang Wei stayed there, letting the sun warm his battered body. Trials. A month. He needed more than this—he needed an edge. That cave was calling.
Night fell fast. The compound quieted, lanterns flickering along the walls. Zhang Wei slipped out, hood up, sticking to the shadows. The eastern woods weren't far—a half-hour trek past the training grounds. His legs burned, but he pushed on, driven by that stubborn spark.
The woods were dark, thick with gnarled trees and the hum of insects. He followed the old Zhang Wei's hazy memory—a winding path, a mossy boulder, then a ravine. There it was: a cave mouth, half-hidden by vines, glowing faintly with a qi barrier. Blue light pulsed, weak but steady.
Zhang Wei stepped closer, heart racing. The system chimed:
[New Task: Breach the Barrier]
Reward: Unknown
Failure: Unknown
"Unknown?" he muttered. "That's helpful." He reached out, fingers brushing the barrier. It buzzed, warm and alive, but didn't push him back. His qi stirred, matching its rhythm.
[Qi Resonance Detected]
The barrier flickered—and parted, just enough for him to slip through. Inside, the air was cool, heavy with age. Stone walls stretched into darkness, carved with faded runes. At the center sat a pedestal, holding a dusty jade slip.
Zhang Wei grinned. "Jackpot."
Outside, thunder rumbled again, closer now. He didn't care. This was his shot—his first real step. Whatever was in that slip, it was his ticket out of the dirt.