Chapter 1 - I'd Like a Refund on This Reincarnation
I came to in the middle of a beating.
That's a bit of an understatement, actually.
I came to in the middle of a full-blown mauling. Everything, and I mean everything, hurt. It felt like I'd been used as a punching bag by a very angry gorilla. Which really wasn't far from the truth, considering that the brute currently pounding my face into the dirt was built like a refrigerator with legs.
"Wei Fan! You pathetic waste of flesh!" the brute roared. "You dare challenge me, Li Qiang, with your meager strength?!"
Apparently, I was Wei Fan now. Or rather, I had somehow become Wei Fan, the moment his heart stopped beating and my soul took up residence in his battered body.
The transition hadn't exactly been smooth.
"Wait a second," I wanted to say, but my mouth just gurgled out blood instead. "Let's talk about thi—"
"Feel the fist that shatters mountains!" he thundered, helpfully demonstrating on my ribcage. "Feel the weight of my fury, you insect!"
I felt the weight of his fury, all right.
Honestly, you'd think that dying and waking up in someone else's body would come with a bit more fanfare, maybe a glowing light or a booming voice announcing my untimely transmigration. But nope, just pain. Not even a moment to gather my bearings. I'd died by tripping over my own shoelaces while crossing the street—glamorous, I know—and opened my eyes to find myself eating dirt.
Just like that. Earth to somewhere decidedly not Earth. Zero transition period, zero explanations.
So where was I, exactly?
Well, according to the memories of the recently departed Wei Fan, it seemed I had landed in a cultivation world straight out of a third-rate xianxia novel, complete with arrogant young masters, ancient secrets, power struggles, demons, hells—nine of them, no less—…dragons, kind of. All that jazz. That's the gist of it, anyway. I'd have to delve into Wei Fan's memories later to get the finer details.
But maybe just a quick glance at his mental filing cabinet wouldn't hurt right now. Not like I had anything better to do while getting my face rearranged by a mountainous slab of muscle named Li Qiang.
The memories flooded into me as the blows kept raining down. Each punch seemed to dislodge another useful bit of information from the recesses of my new brain. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too many more hits to get the whole picture.
Let's see… Wei Fan, an outer disciple of the Crimson Blade Sect…
I curled into a pathetic ball in the mud to preserve what little was left of my ribs. Somehow, the new stream of memories made the pain slightly more tolerable. It was the only reason I wasn't screaming my lungs out, really.
So, Wei Fan, you were a First Realm nobody who somehow managed to piss off half the sect and most of the local powerhouses. You took a piss in the garden of the Sect Elder's prized Spirit Lotus, you "accidentally" swapped a young master's medicinal pills with laxatives before his duel, and, oh—let's not forget—the time you drunkenly insulted Li Qiang's mother during a sect banquet.
Great. Fucking Great.
Seriously, I hadn't even finished downloading 5% of this guy's memories and I already wanted to punch him myself.
I tentatively browsed through another 5% and immediately cringed at the sheer level of idiocy this guy had operated on.
Apparently, Wei Fan, in his infinite wisdom, had also slept with the fiancée of the sect leader's cousin.
Just… the balls on this guy, sheesh.
If the sect leader ever found out about that particular escapade… well, let's just say my current predicament would feel like a cozy spa day in comparison.
I sighed dejectedly—internally, of course. Externally, I was gasping for air.
It looked like I'd gotten the short end of the reincarnation stick. Seriously, no OP game system, no legendary bloodline, no cheat abilities handed down by some omnipotent god. Just me apparently inheriting the messiest, most self-destructive life possible in a world where the pettiest grudges were settled with psychotic levels of violence.
Clearly, this was the worst reincarnation deal in the history of reincarnation deals. I was already missing Wi-Fi, air conditioning, and not getting curb-stomped by a walking muscle factory.
Before I could comb through the full laundry list of Wei Fan's terrible life choices, Li Qiang, the aforementioned refrigerator with anger issues, hauled me up by the collar of my torn robe. My vision swam and my knees buckled as I dangled helplessly in his iron grip. Was this how I was going to die? Again? Honestly, it was a little rude to get isekai'd just to get killed five seconds later.
"Look at you," he sneered, his breath hot and smelling like rotten garlic. "The shame of the Wei Clan. Your sister is the only reason I haven't crushed your skull already."
Sister? Ah, right. Wei Ling. Beautiful, powerful, and incredibly overprotective. So that's how a complete moron like Wei Fan managed to survive this long. He should have been dead ten times over, but Big Sis kept pulling his sorry ass out of the fire.
I let out a coughing chuckle as a certain memory surfaced. A memory of Wei Ling burying an outer disciple in the ground up to his neck because he stole Wei Fan's lunch. She'd even made him eat dung while apologizing profusely for his "heinous crimes against Wei Fan's stomach."
I burst into laughter, choking on my own spit as Li Qiang's fist hovered mid-swing.
What a lovely sibling bond they had. Really, Wei Fan was the luckiest bastard alive to have her looking out for him.
My laughter quickly turned into a wheeze when Li Qiang gave me a nice, friendly reminder of our power dynamic by slamming his fist directly into my stomach. "What's so funny, worm?" Li Qiang sounded genuinely confused, which, to be fair, wasn't his fault. "Have you finally lost your mind? Perhaps a few more punches will snap some sense into you!"
"No… no more punches," I gasped, my voice barely audible through the blood pooling in my mouth. "Just… thinking… how lucky… Wei Fan… was…"
Li Qiang paused, his thick brows furrowing in what seemed to be strenuous mental effort. "Lucky? You think being beaten to a pulp by this Li Qiang, who has mastered the Iron Mountain Fist to the fifth level, is lucky?"
"Lucky… to have… a sister… like Wei Ling," I choked out. "She's… something else."
Honestly, the depth of her dedication to this utter dumpster fire of a human was… almost touching. It had to be exhausting. But then again, love—especially the sibling kind—rarely made sense. I mean, this was a woman who'd bury a guy alive for stealing her brother's lunch.
And to think I had never gotten to experience anything close to that in my old life back on Earth. Life really wasn't fair to some people, was it? A complete jackass like Wei Fan gets a ride-or-die sibling, and what did I get? A cat that only liked me when it was dinnertime.
Li Qiang curled his lip, spitting on the ground with enough force to crack a paving stone. "Wei Ling? That dirty harlot? They say she slurps down the yang essence of a hundred men to fuel her cultivation!" He threw back his head and roared with laughter.
My blood boiled at the insult. Wei Fan's sister was no saint, but she certainly wasn't what this smooth-brained meathead was accusing her of.
"Don't delude yourself, Wei Fan," Li Qiang continued. "That whore's protection is as worthless as a eunuch's seed. One day, her madness will consume her, and you'll be left to face the music. You'll face me." He flexed his arms, the muscles bulging obscenely. "And on that day, this Li Qiang will personally rip you limb from limb, then feed your still-beating heart to the demonic dogs I breed for this very purpose! I will make sure you spend the next ten thousand years screaming in the deepest pits of the Nine Hells, I will—What are you laughing at now, you little worm?!"
I gave him the biggest shit-eating grin I could muster through the blood and the swelling.
"Look behind you," I croaked.
Watching Li Qiang's smug expression crumble mid-monologue was undoubtedly one of the most satisfying moments of both Wei Fan's life and mine combined.
Standing there, bathed in the moonlight of the sect's training courtyard, was Wei Ling.
And she did not look happy.
I'd already had a fuzzy image of her in my head, but seeing her now in the flesh was something else entirely. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, crimson robes trimmed with gold draped gracefully over her lithe frame, and her eyes blazed with a cold fury that could probably incinerate Li Qiang on the spot if she stared long enough.
She was stunning, yes, like a porcelain doll brought to life, but there was also an air of barely restrained danger surrounding her. Like she was always two seconds away from going on a murder spree—and you didn't want to be anywhere near ground zero when it happened.
She was already smiling, actually.
Wei Ling never smiled.
Unless, of course, she was about to commit an act of unspeakable violence.
"W-wait—" Li Qiang didn't get to finish his plea before blood exploded from his mouth and painted my face in a nice, even spray.
He dropped my body like a broken toy, crashing to his knees as Wei Ling's delicate fingers withdrew from the spot just below his ribcage. "W-Wei Ling…" he gasped. "This one… humbly apologizes… was only… following your—"
Her hand snapped out and clamped around his throat. His eyes bulged as she lifted him effortlessly into the air, his legs kicking feebly. The height difference between her petite frame and Li Qiang's refrigerator-esque build only made the sight more absurd—and infinitely more terrifying.
"Shhhh," Wei Ling cooed, running her free hand gently down his cheek. "I will handle the apologies on my brother's behalf."
The last sounds I heard before mercifully blacking out were the gurgles of Li Qiang struggling for air. Oh, and Wei Ling was humming. Sweetly. Because that's normal.
Chapter 2 - Just Another Fucking Tuesday
Pain. That was the first thing I registered.
Pain, along with the smell of blood, sweat, and something herbal.
I slipped in and out of consciousness as someone tended to my wounds. There were soft hands, gentle touches, and the faint murmur of a woman's voice. It was all very nice, really—if you ignored the fact that every breath felt like knives slicing through my lungs and my entire body felt like a sack of shattered bones.
"Senior Sister Wei," a nervous voice stuttered nearby. "This lowly one has stabilized your brother's condition, but the cost of his treatment… well, given the severity of his injuries and the extensive amount of high-grade—"
"Just send the bill to the Wei Manor as usual," Wei Ling's voice cut in, cold and dismissive. "My father will take care of it."
"Uh… about that, Senior Sister Wei," the nervous voice stammered. "Your esteemed father… he sent a messenger this morning. A rather… strongly worded message."
"Oh?" Wei Ling said, her tone dangerously flat. "And what did my esteemed father have to say?"
"H-he said that the Wei Clan would no longer be responsible for your brother's medical expenses," the nervous voice squeaked. "He said that, uh, that Wei Fan is a grown man and should learn to handle his own proble—Please don't kill me!"
I cracked my eyes open just in time to see Wei Ling crushing the edge of a solid wooden table with her bare hand. Splinters flew, and the poor healer who had delivered the bad news looked like he was about to piss himself.
"My father said that, did he?" Wei Ling asked icily.
"Y-yes, Senior Sister," the healer stammered. "H-he also mentioned something about disowning Wei Fan if he continued to disgrace the family name."
I could see well enough now to make out my surroundings. I was lying on a simple cot in what looked like the sect's infirmary, bandaged from head to toe and reeking of medicinal herbs. Wei Ling stood at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed and her expression colder than a winter storm. The healer, a scrawny man with a scraggly beard, was bowing so low it looked like he might fold himself in half.
"Disown him?" Wei Ling repeated. "How amusing. My dear father seems to have forgotten who truly holds the power in this family." She casually dug another chunk out of the table with her fingers, as if it were made of warm butter. "But regardless of his senile ramblings, I'm sure he's well aware of the gravity of the situation. The audacity of the Li Clan to send their lapdog after my brother… This isn't just about a drunken insult anymore. This is a direct challenge to the Wei Clan's authority."
"Um, actually, Senior Sister," the healer began hesitantly, "we are not yet sure who instigated the fight. The investigation is still ongoing, and given that Disciple Li Qiang is currently, um… indisposed, it might take some time to establish the full scope of events surrounding the altercation. If you permit, I would strongly recommend waiting for more definitive evidence before—"
"Argh… Fuck…" I groaned, drawing their attention as a wave of pure agony shot through my entire body. I tried to sit up, but a searing pain in my chest forced me back down with a gasp.
Goddammit, everything hurt.
"Go get him another dose of painkiller," Wei Ling snapped, motioning sharply to the healer without taking her eyes off me. "And make sure it's the good stuff this time, not that watered-down swill you usually give to the outer disciples."
The healer practically tripped over his own feet in his haste to obey, scurrying out of the room and leaving me alone with my… sister.
I writhed and groaned, trying to find a position that didn't feel like I was being simultaneously stabbed, burned, and electrocuted. It was a futile effort.
A cool hand gently touched my forehead. "Hush now, little brother," Wei Ling murmured, her voice softening considerably. "It's all right. I'm here." She wiped the tears from my eyes with a silk handkerchief. "It's just pain. You'll never get stronger if you can't even endure this much." She spoke as though pain was a minor inconvenience, like a bit of a runny nose or a mild headache. "You're so fragile. Always so fragile. It's a wonder you've survived this long."
Yeah… a real miracle.
The pain kept getting worse and worse until I honestly started to wonder if this body was actively trying to eject the alien soul that had hijacked it. Maybe Wei Fan's body was rejecting me on a spiritual level, like an organ transplant gone horribly wrong. Was that even possible? Could souls get... rejected? I sure hoped not, because if this pain didn't stop soon, I was about to wish I'd stayed dead the first time around.
But then, when I was just about ready to tap out and beg to be put out of my misery, Wei Ling started humming.
It took me some time to recognize the melody, what with Wei Fan's memories still settling into my brain, but it was a lullaby. The one their mother used to sing to them when they were children, before she… well, before she wasn't around anymore.
It was also the exact same melody Wei Ling had been humming while choking the life out of Li Qiang earlier. Complete with the eerie, soothing cadence of a woman who could lull you to peace right before snapping your neck.
"Sleep now, Fan'er," she murmured softly. "You need to recover."
It wasn't easy to sleep while feeling like every nerve in my body was on fire, but her voice had an odd effect on me. It was like a switch had been flipped in my brain, overriding the agony and replacing it with a strange sense of calm. I still hurt, and I knew I'd probably wake up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, but for the moment, I was… at peace.
/-/
I ended up making a full recovery in about three days, which was nothing short of miraculous given the state I'd been in. It was three days of shitting blood, slipping in and out of fever dreams, and enduring Wei Fan's memories replaying like a bad movie marathon in my head. It was a truly awful experience.
But the morning of the fourth day found me sitting up on a dirty cot, covered in bandages and contemplating how badly reincarnation had scammed me. I was in a daze, still, just trying to piece together what the hell I was supposed to do next.
Or more accurately, how I was supposed to survive long enough to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next, because, frankly, the odds weren't looking great.
I was sitting there cataloging the many ways Wei Fan had screwed himself—and by extension, me—when the door to the shabby little room I'd been dumped in creaked open. One of the healers, an old man with a wispy beard and a grumpy demeanor, shuffled in and squinted at me like I owed him money. I probably did. The sect's infirmary wasn't exactly a charity if you weren't one of their star disciples, and I was definitely not a star disciple. I was, however, a member of a fairly prominent clan, which had previously footed the bill for Wei Fan's many, many trips here.
But if what I'd overheard during my feverish haze was correct, that particular safety net had just been yanked out from under me.
Which meant I was officially broke.
At least they seemed to have patched me up before realizing that my tab wasn't getting covered anymore.
"Hmph. You should be dead," the old healer grunted, slapping a steaming bowl of bitter-smelling soup onto the rickety table beside my cot. "Your sister's pills saved your life. Eat up. It'll clear out the last of the internal bleeding."
Well that answered one question, I guess. Wei Ling had apparently forked over some expensive pills to patch me up. Lucky me.
I stared at the bowl of soup, half expecting it to start bubbling ominously or release some kind of toxic cloud. "This is… food?" I asked, my voice raspy from disuse. It was one thing to watch Wei Fan eat all sorts of mystical and disgusting stuff in his memories for the sake of cultivation, but it was a whole other thing to be faced with the reality of choking it down myself.
The old man scoffed. "It's medicine, you brat. A Grade Three Body Recovery Decoction. One bowl is worth more than this entire infirmary. Now stop gawking at it and drink, unless you want to cough up your remaining organs."
Ah, well, when he put it like that… how could I possibly refuse?
"Of course," I replied, grabbing the bowl with trembling hands. "This disciple is, uh… eternally grateful… for Senior Healer's care." I brought the bowl to my lips and chugged the entire thing down in one go, fighting back the urge to gag. It tasted like ass.
"Good," the old healer grunted, seemingly surprised by my compliance. "Now, get out. Your sister paid for three days of treatment. Your time is up."
"Do you know where she is?" I asked hoarsely, wiping the swampy sludge from my lips. I hadn't seen her since she'd left me in the care of the infirmary three days ago, and frankly, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"Do you think I am your personal attendant?" the healer snapped. "You want to know where she is? Go find her yourself. Now get out before I charge you for loitering." He pointed a bony finger at the door, and I got the distinct impression that he was serious.
"Right," I mumbled, swinging my legs over the side of the cot. My body ached with a dull throb, but at least nothing felt broken anymore. "Thank you for your help, Senior Healer." I bowed deeply, again making him squint at me suspiciously, then quickly hobbled out of the room and into the main hall of the infirmary.
One look at the sorry state of the place was all it took to make me appreciate just how lucky I'd been to get a private room for my recovery. After all, I could have been crammed in here between the vomit bucket guy and the dude coughing up blood like it was a hobby.
Pill Master Zhao, the head of the infirmary, was currently hovering over a pale-faced disciple. The poor guy was screaming bloody murder as Zhao applied some glowing green paste directly to his open chest wound.
"Hmm, yes," Zhao hummed thoughtfully, "The Spirit Leech Salve seems to be working as intended. The screaming indicates that the leeches are successfully devouring the necrotic tissue. Excellent."
"Arghhhh!" the disciple shrieked, his body convulsing on the table. "It burns! By the Nine Hells, it burns!"
"Patience, young one," Zhao said, patting the disciple's shoulder reassuringly. "The burning sensation is a sign of healing. It means the salve is purifying your meridians. You should be grateful that I—Oh, Wei Fan, what a pleasant surprise," he said, noticing me lurking near the doorway. "I didn't expect to see you on your feet so soon. I was hoping to try out my new Bone-Mending Needle technique on you. It's… quite invigorating, I assure you."
I took an involuntary step back, my mind screaming absolutely not.
"Would you like a demonstration?" Pill Master Zhao asked, holding up a needle that looked more like a miniature harpoon. "It only hurts for a little while. A day or two, at most." Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the wailing disciple on the table and then plunged the needle deep into the man's thigh. The resulting scream was so high-pitched it probably shattered glass in the next province over. "See? Instant relief," Zhao chirped, ignoring the fact that his patient had just crapped himself from the sheer pain. "A remarkable success, if I do say so myself. Now would you be so kind as to volunteer for the next application? I have a theory that repeated applications can accelerate Qi circulation by up to…"
I didn't wait to hear the rest. I turned and hobbled out of the infirmary as fast as my battered body would allow, deciding then and there that this horror show wasn't something I needed to be a part of. In fact, I decided none of this was something I needed to be a part of.
I burst out into the blinding sunlight, blinking furiously as the crisp mountain air hit my lungs.
The view that greeted me as I stepped outside was something straight out of a painting—rolling mist shrouding jagged mountain peaks, cherry blossoms drifting lazily in the breeze, and stone-paved courtyards bustling with disciples in crimson robes practicing their forms. A sprawling collection of Chinese architecture dotted the mountainside, all tiered roofs and ornate carvings, connected by gracefully arching bridges over koi-filled ponds. High above everything, a massive waterfall cascaded down the tallest peak, feeding a network of streams that snaked through the entire sect complex. It took me a few seconds to realize that the dots moving gracefully above the waterfall were not birds, but actual people flying on swords.
I lowered my gaze from the sky-soaring cultivators and focused on a group of huge outer disciples training in a nearby courtyard. 'Training' might be a generous way to describe what they were doing, though, because it looked more like an organized brawl. Men and women of various shapes and sizes were pounding the ever-loving crap out of each other, and based on the whoops and cheers, they were enjoying it.
Jesus Christ.
In another courtyard, a group of inner disciples was chopping through boulders with their bare hands, each strike sending tremors through the earth as they shouted mantras about splitting mountains and crushing seas. Another group was huddled around a huge steel pillar and taking turns headbutting it with enough force to leave visible dents. Their foreheads glowed red with Blood Qi as they chanted in unison something about "tempering the skull to crack the heavens." Yet another group was busy doing handstands on one finger while balancing boulders on their feet. A stern elder walked among them, smacking anyone who wobbled with a bamboo stick and barking corrections at them like a drill sergeant.
I stared open-mouthed at the scene before me. Then, I lowered my gaze to my own hands: scarred, calloused, and far more muscular than my original ones back on Earth.
Oh right, Body cultivation.
The Crimson Blade Sect specialized in Body cultivation techniques, and the training methods made medieval torture chambers look like spa retreats.
One thought immediately came to mind: I wanted no part of this madness.
Powerful sister or not, I absolutely refused to subject myself to the insanity these people called training.
"WEI FAN!" a booming voice suddenly thundered across the courtyard, shaking me out of my thoughts and freezing me in place. "YOU DARE SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN?! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO MY COUSIN LI QIANG?! I, LI HU, WILL AVENGE HIM!"
I groaned loudly.
Not ten seconds into rejoining the land of the living, and I was already about to get pulverized again.
I wasted no time in turning around and hobbling in the opposite direction, as fast as my battered body could manage.
I had to get to Wei Fan's room and pack up whatever essentials I could find.
I had to leave this place immediately.
Fighting some idiot named Li Hu wasn't on today's agenda.
/-/
A few hours later I was at the sect's outer gates, hauling a pathetic excuse for a travel bag stuffed with whatever I could scrounge from Wei Fan's room. I was now the proud owner of two shabby sets of crimson robes, some low-grade spirit stones (basically the pocket change of cultivation worlds), a half-empty bottle of healing pills, and, most importantly, a worn-out manual labeled "Basic Body Cultivation: A Beginner's Guide to Breaking Your Limbs Repeatedly Until They Become Weapons."
Well, that was the English translation I mentally assigned to it, anyway. The actual title was written in the ancient Chinese-like script of this world, and it was far more pretentious: "The Crimson Path to Indomitable Flesh and Eternal Supremacy, Volume I."
Yeah… more like "The Crimson Path to Chronic Pain and Early-Onset Arthritis."
No thanks.
But pretentious titles aside, I was pretty sure it would fetch a decent price at the nearest marketplace. Wei Fan had stolen it from one of the sect libraries, and while it was technically a beginner's manual, its rarity outside the sect made it valuable enough for me to trade or sell. I would need a lot of resources to get a good start on my new life, after all, and every little bit counted.
"Purpose for leaving the sect grounds?" the guard at the outer sect's main gate asked. He had a spear propped casually against his shoulder and a toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth. He obviously wasn't a disciple here.
"Personal errand," I replied, handing him my disciple token. "Need to pick up some supplies in the village."
Judging by the look on his face, he clearly didn't believe me, but he took the token anyway and swiped it across a glowing crystal embedded in the gatepost. The crystal pulsed with a soft light, and the guard handed the token back to me with a shrug. "Gate closes at the tenth hour today. We saw some demonic activity in the woods this morning, so be back before then, or you'll be locked out for the night."
"Demonic activity?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Do you have the exact location of the sighting? Also, the number and type of demons involved? And the realm of the cultivator who reported it?"
"Kid, I just open the gate," he said, staring at me like I was an idiot. "You want a full threat assessment, go talk to the Mission Hall. Now are you going in or out? You're holding up the line."
Well… that wasn't very helpful.
I sighed and stepped through the gate, joining the trickle of other disciples making their way down the winding mountain path toward the nearby mortal town.
Demonic activity in the area certainly wasn't ideal, but I figured it was better than sticking around the sect where my survival odds were rapidly approaching zero. I just needed to find a merchant caravan leaving this valley and offer my services as a guard or laborer. If I could get to the Central Plains, where civilization was slightly more stable and less prone to the inevitable melodramatic blood feuds of cultivation sects, I'd have a decent shot at starting over.
That was the plan, anyway. Roughly sketched out, and subject to change based on, well, pretty much everything. I just hoped that by the time Wei Ling caught wind of my absence, I'd be long gone. That was the entire point of leaving so abruptly, actually, because I really wasn't sure how she'd take it if her beloved little brother suddenly vanished without a trace.
Probably not well, if I had to guess.
But honestly, that wasn't my problem anymore.
Two hours of hiking later (and several close calls with loose rocks that seemed hell-bent on reenacting my shoelace-based demise from my previous life) I finally reached the outskirts of the mortal town.
The town, if you could even call it that, was a miserable collection of mud-brick hovels huddled together like frightened sheep. A few scrawny chickens pecked at the dirt in the middle of the main path, and a handful of gaunt-looking villagers stared at me with hollow eyes as I passed. This wasn't a thriving hub of commerce. This was a place where hope came to die.
The surrounding volcanic landscape certainly didn't help. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, and the ground was a cracked, barren wasteland dotted with sickly-looking trees and pools of bubbling, black sludge. It was a stark contrast to the beautiful mountain peak where the Crimson Blade Sect was located, as, evidently, all the sects and clans of the valleys had reserved the prime real estate (the green, misty mountaintops) for themselves, leaving the scraps for the mortals below.
The Burning Maw Valley was aptly named, it seemed.
And it was just as miserable as Wei Fan's memories had suggested.
Thankfully, finding a merchant caravan turned out to be easier than I'd expected. There was only one in town, and it was hard to miss.
A dozen heavily armored wagons were parked in a circle at the edge of the settlement, surrounded by grizzled guards armed to the teeth. A large, colorful banner bearing the sigil of the "Golden Serpent Trading Guild" fluttered in the sulfuric breeze.
I approached a man who seemed to be in charge, a portly fellow with a handlebar mustache and a silk robe that looked ridiculously out of place in this dump. He was barking orders at a couple of laborers loading crates onto a wagon. All mortals, I noted. I would have a decent advantage over them, given my cultivator status.
The head merchant, however, didn't look particularly impressed when I introduced myself. "A Crimson Blade disciple?" he raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down. "Never thought those pampered mountain brats would stoop so low as to beg for work."
That was… a lot less respectful of a response than I was expecting. Was he aware that I could probably kill him with a single punch if I really wanted to? Well, maybe not in my current sorry state, but still.
"I'm not begging," I said, keeping my voice even. "I'm offering my services. I'm a cultivator. I can protect your caravan in exchange for passage to the Central Plains."
"You? Protect us?" He snorted. "You're a First Realm Body cultivator, by the looks of it. Barely out of your diapers. What makes you think you're qualified to protect anything?" He gestured to the guards surrounding the wagons. "See those men? They're all mortals, sure, but they're veterans of a dozen campaigns. I'd bet any amount of silver that five of my guys could take you down before you could even channel your Qi. A lot cheaper to hire, too."
Eh, he was probably right. Wei Fan's cultivation was pathetic. He'd spent more time chasing skirts and getting into fights than actually training. Still, I had to try.
"I'm stronger than I look," I insisted, trying to project a confidence I absolutely did not feel. "If we run into any third-rank demonic beasts, your mortal guards will be nothing but fodder. You need a cultivator."
"If we run into any third-rank demonic beasts, you'll be the first to die, boy," the merchant retorted, not missing a beat. "We've got a Second Realm cultivator leading our guard detail. A real one, not some snot-nosed sect disciple who's never seen a real fight. Now get lost before I have my men throw you into—"
A loud explosion of mud and dirt erupted not twenty feet away from us. We both whipped our heads around to see a blue-robed young man standing in the middle of a newly formed crater, a flying sword hovering beside him. He had a look of utter disdain on his face as he surveyed the squalid town. One of the carts closest to him had been completely overturned by the impact of his arrival, sending crates full of goods spilling onto the ground.
The head merchant's face turned an alarming shade of red as he stormed over to the young man. "You! What in the nine hells do you think you're doing?! Do you have any idea how much those goods are worth? That's imported Spirit Silk from the Eastern Continent! I'll have your head for this, you arrogant little—"
"I'll take this caravan," the blue-robed man said, his voice dripping with an arrogance that made Li Qiang seem humble. "Consider it confiscated in the name of the Heavenly Skyblade Sect."
Oh no. I could already see where this was going. I very carefully started backing away, trying to blend in with the terrified villagers who were now scrambling for cover.
"W-what do you mean, confiscated?" the merchant spluttered. "On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that I require it," the young man said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He flicked a dismissive hand at the merchant. "Your cargo is now the property of the Heavenly Skyblade Sect. We are requisitioning it for the war effort against the demonic tide. You should be honored to contribute."
"You… you… you can't just do this!" the merchant erupted in a fresh wave of fury. "This is theft! The Golden Serpent Guild will hear of this! Our guildmaster is a Fifth Realm Soul cultivator! Chosen of the heavens! He will chop off your head and use your skull as a chamber pot! He will rip out your soul and refine it into a lantern to light his wine cellar! He will—"
The head of the merchant exploded in a shower of gore and brain matter. I stared in shock as his headless body crumpled to the ground and then rolled over, twitching for a few seconds before going still.
The blue-robed disciple calmly wiped a speck of blood from his cheek with a silk handkerchief. "Insolent mortal," he sniffed, returning the handkerchief to his sleeve. "Does anyone else have an objection?"
Screams and cries erupted all around as the mortal villagers ran for their hovels as if the devil himself had descended upon them. The caravan guards, momentarily stunned, quickly snapped out of their shock and began to draw their weapons.
Not to charge forward or defend their employer, mind you, but to throw them down at the young man's feet in a universal display of surrender.
It didn't take long before everyone fell to their knees before the blue-robed cultivator, their heads pressed to the dirt in abject submission.
Everyone, except the Second Realm cultivator who the merchant had mentioned earlier. He was also wearing a cultivator's robes, much like myself, but his looked a little more travel-worn and practical, devoid of any sect insignias.
The blue-robed disciple glanced at this new defiant figure, and then turned his gaze towards the third and last robed cultivator in the vicinity—me.
"You," he said, pointing a slender finger in my direction. "And you." He gestured to the other cultivator. "The two of you will drive the wagons. The rest of you mortals will serve as pack mules. Load everything from the broken wagon onto your backs. Now."
We didn't move. I didn't move because I was still trying to process the fact that I had just witnessed a man's head explode. The other cultivator, a grizzled man with a long scar across his face, didn't move because he was apparently suicidal.
The suicidal cultivator spat on the ground. "I serve the Golden Serpent Guild," he said, his voice a low growl. "Not some jumped-up brat from a second-rate sect."
"Then die," the blue-robed disciple simply replied, and the flying sword beside him shot forward like a streak of silver lightning.
There was a massive explosion of Air Qi that sent a shockwave ripping through the town. I threw myself to the ground, covering my head as dust and debris rained down around me. Everyone was running and screaming now. Somehow, one of the wooden huts caught fire, and the flames quickly spread to the neighboring hovels, turning the already miserable town into a scene from hell.
One of the guards was taking cover near me, and I grabbed him by the collar. "Who the hell is that guy?!" I yelled over the chaos.
"Heavenly Skyblade Sect!" he shrieked, his face pale with terror. "He's one of their core disciples! A genius of the sword! We're all dead! We're all going to die!"
Oh fuck.
I rolled behind one of the wagons just as another blast of energy tore through the air where I had been standing.
Then, I bolted.
Wei Fan's powerful legs, a product of his half-assed Body cultivation, carried me faster than I'd ever run in my life. I must have run faster than Usain Bolt on steroids, I swear. I vaulted over fences, dodged flaming debris, and weaved through the screaming villagers like a madman. I didn't look back. I didn't dare.
He wouldn't murder the mortals in cold blood, would he? He needed them to carry the goods. He'd probably just kill the other cultivator and then force the rest to comply.
I hoped so, anyway.
Because staying here and playing hero was a surefire way to get a one-way ticket to the afterlife, and I'd already used my free pass.
I ran all the way back to the Crimson Blade Sect, my lungs burning and my legs screaming in protest. I didn't stop until I was safely past the outer gate, collapsing in a heap on the stone path as the bewildered guard from earlier stared down at me.
I couldn't leave the Crimson Blade Sect.
Not yet. Not until I was strong enough to survive out there.
And I had just disobeyed a direct order from a core disciple of a rival sect.
He was probably hunting for me right now.
"You need to send help," I gasped, clutching my chest. "Heavenly Skyblade… disciple… he's slaughtering everyone in the village!"
The guard's bored expression turned into an even more bored expression. "And? What's that got to do with us?" he asked, picking at his teeth with the toothpick. "Sect business is sect business. Mortal affairs are mortal affairs. He's not on our mountain, so it's not our problem."
I stared up at him, dumbfounded. "But... people are dying…"
"So just another Tuesday in the Burning Maw Valley, then," he finished with a yawn. "Look, kid, unless that Skyblade brat steps foot on sect grounds, there's nothing we can do. Sect politics. You should know this by now." He nudged me with the butt of his spear. "Now get up. You're blocking the path."
What the…?
Just another Tuesday…?
I rolled over on my back, still panting and staring up at the sky.
"Just another Tuesday," I muttered, gasping for air. "Just another fucking Tuesday."
What a wonderful world I'd landed myself in.
/-/
When the moon rose over the sect grounds that evening, I was back in Wei Fan's cramped, disgustingly filthy room, nursing a cup of lukewarm water and trying to figure out a plan. A real plan, this time. Not the half-baked 'run away and hope for the best' strategy that had almost gotten my head exploded.
The problem wasn't just the Heavenly Skyblade disciple. He was a symptom of a much larger disease. The problem was that this world was a meat grinder, and I was currently a very soft, very squishy piece of meat.
Clearly, I needed an advantage. But what kind of advantage could a talentless, broke, First Realm Body cultivator possibly get his hands on?
I went through all of Wei Fan's memories again, sifting through the garbage for anything, anything useful. The only remotely useful thing he had going for him was his sister, Wei Ling. But clearly that wasn't a reliable long-term solution, judging by the very simple fact that Wei Fan had recently died despite her protection.
So what else could I do?
I thought about the basics of cultivation.
And then I realized something.
Wei Fan was a talentless hack, sure… but was I a talentless hack?
Not… not necessarily.
Did the soul-transfer somehow alter my potential? Did it bring anything unique with it? Anything I could leverage?
Well… maybe.
In fact, there was only one way to find out.
I left the outer disciples' quarters and headed straight for the Hall of Assessment.
Chapter 3 - Trash-tier Soul cultivator
"Your last assessment was just two months ago," the elder in charge of the Assessment Hall grumbled, not even looking up from the scroll he was reading. He was a shriveled old man who looked like he'd been pickled in vinegar for a century. "The sect only provides one free assessment per season. If you wish for another, you will have to pay the fee. Fifty mid-grade spirit stones."
I blinked at him, incredulous. Fifty mid-grade spirit stones? That was an absurd amount of money for what was basically a five-minute process of being told you're trash.
Or was he mistaking my request for a full Body reassessment?
I quickly clarified, "Honorable Elder, this disciple isn't seeking a full Body reassessment. I only wish to make use of the Soul Aptitude Crystal."
I could tell that my deferential tone was throwing him off, probably because Wei Fan was known for being a belligerent little shit.
But it somehow worked to my advantage. The elder finally looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "The Soul Aptitude Crystal? What for? Your basic attributes have already been recorded, and from the looks of you, they haven't improved in the slightest. You're a Body cultivator. A pathetically weak one at that. Don't waste my time with pointless requests."
I bowed deeply, deciding to lay the flattery on thick. "Honorable Elder, this disciple has had… a recent breakthrough in his understanding of the Way," I said, choosing my words carefully. "A near-death experience has granted me a new perspective. I feel that my soul's potential may have changed." Honestly, pretty close to the truth. I just couldn't actually tell him how literal that statement was. "I will not even need to waste your precious time, Honorable Elder. I simply wish to place my hand on the crystal for a moment. I will pay for the privilege, of course." I placed the small pouch of low-grade spirit stones I'd scrounged from Wei Fan's room onto his desk. It was a paltry sum, but it was all I had. "This is not a formal record request. Just a personal inquiry."
Meaning that he wouldn't have to do any paperwork. Or pass on the spirit stones to the sect's treasury.
He gave me a long, appraising look, then his gaze flickered to the pouch of stones. His wrinkled hand shot out and snatched it with surprising speed. "Hmph. Very well," he grunted, stuffing the pouch into his robes. "But be quick about it. And don't touch anything else. My assistant will accompany you."
"Uh… that won't be necessary, Honorable Elder," I quickly interjected. "This disciple knows the way. I will—"
"I said my assistant will accompany you," the elder snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think I'd let a known troublemaker like you wander unsupervised in a hall full of priceless artifacts? Do you take me for a fool?"
Oh crap. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Of course not, Honorable Elder," I said, forcing a smile. "This disciple is grateful for your consideration."
I was already starting to hate the whole 'this disciple' routine and it hadn't even been a week since I'd woken up here.
I guess if groveling got me what I needed, though, then so be it.
The elder huffed again, then gestured dismissively. "Go on, then. Don't dawdle."
His assistant turned out to be a young woman with a sour expression and a ledger clutched to her chest like a shield. She didn't look like a disciple here, and she didn't look like a mortal servant. She was probably one of the elder's personal attendants, which explained the bored, resentful look in her eyes.
She led me through a series of winding corridors, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. I stared at the walls as we walked, taking in the hundreds of medieval torture devices used for assessment purposes: chains, racks, iron maidens… you name it. The Crimson Blade Sect really took the 'no pain, no gain' philosophy to a whole new level.
Which was why I was very glad I wasn't here for any of those particular "assessments."
"Here it is," she said, her voice flat, stopping in front of a small, nondescript room. "The Soul Aptitude Chamber. You have five minutes." She unlocked the heavy stone door and gestured for me to enter, then leaned against the wall outside, tapping her foot impatiently.
When I didn't move, she shot me an annoyed look. "Do you not know how to use it? You place your hand on the Soul Aptitude Crystal. It will glow. The color and intensity will tell you all you need to know. Now hurry up."
That wasn't the reason I was hesitating. If she stayed right outside the door, she'd be able to see the color and intensity of the crystal's glow, which meant I wouldn't be able to keep the results a secret if they turned out to be anything noteworthy.
"Senior Sister," I said, trying to sound as earnest as possible. "Could you… perhaps grant me a moment of privacy? This is a deeply personal matter for me. A matter of faith."
I didn't use the word "faith" by accident. The Soul Aptitude Crystal was quite literally believed to reflect the heavens' will regarding someone's talent. It sounded like bullshit, but the fact of the matter was that no one had ever been able to break it apart and understand its inner workings. By all known accounts, those crystals were, in fact, divinely crafted artifacts that could accurately determine an individual's innate potential for cultivation. Crazy as it sounded, some people treated the Soul Aptitude Crystal almost like a sacred relic.
"I am granting you privacy by not stepping inside with you," she replied flatly, arms crossed. "If this is truly a matter of faith, then surely you shouldn't feel shame in the heavens' judgment being witnessed."
Well, shit. It looked like this was as much privacy as I was going to get. Without further argument, I nodded and stepped into the chamber. The moment the heavy door closed behind me, I pulled off my robes and draped them over the crystal to muffle any light it might emit. Was I committing a minor act of sacrilege by covering up the sacred artifact? Absolutely. Did I care? Not in the slightest.
On second thought, I also took off my inner shirt and draped it over the door cracks to block any potential light from spilling out. Just in case.
I took a moment to steady my breathing. The crystal stood on a pedestal in the center of the small, spartan room. To all outward appearances, it was just a basketball-sized, perfectly clear orb. Nothing special. But according to Wei Fan's memories, this unassuming rock was the key to everything. You touched it, and it would light up to reflect your soul's potential. Pretty straightforward, but the implications were life-changing.
The color scheme used to indicate talent level went like this: red for trash-tier talent (aka, mortals), orange for mediocre (lowest-tier cultivators), yellow for decent (outer disciples), green for good (inner disciples), then, blue for excellent, silver for genius, and gold for legendary, heaven-defying talent. There was also a rumored rainbow-tier, which supposedly appeared only once in ten thousand years, but most people considered it a myth. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be seeing any rainbows today.
Wei Fan had been tested as a child, of course. The results had been… less than stellar. He had a yellow-grade Body aptitude, which was just barely enough to get him into the Crimson Blade Sect as an outer disciple. His Spirit cultivation, however, was a respectable green. So why wasn't he in a sect that focused on Spirit cultivation? Because of Wei Ling. She was one of those rare, monstrous talents with a gold-grade Body aptitude, and their father had insisted they stay together. As for Soul and Mind aptitudes… Wei Fan's was a dismal red. Completely and utterly hopeless.
Now the question was: had my soul transfer changed anything?
You'd think it would only change my Soul aptitude, considering that the "soul" was essentially what had transmigrated. But it didn't really work like that. Soul cultivation here was kind of like a meta layer that influenced all other aspects of cultivation. A different soul meant a different foundation, which in turn could affect everything else.
That was the theory, anyway.
Only one way to find out.
Without too much fanfare, I placed my hand on the smooth, cool surface of the crystal. There were no visions of the cosmos, no booming voice from the heavens, no sudden influx of profound enlightenment. Just a soft hum, and then a glow.
Red. So weak that it barely illuminated the inside of my makeshift robe-tent. I was a red Soul aptitude. Just like Wei Fan. Basically, a heretic who the gods had deemed unworthy of even the most basic Soul cultivation, for cultivating your soul meant cultivating your connection to the heavens, and I had none.
Eh, whatever. I'd never been particularly religious back on Earth either, so it wasn't like I had any spiritual expectations to be dashed.
To test the other "Great Ways", it wasn't enough to just touch the crystal. I had to actively channel my Qi into it, focusing my intent on a specific Way. I started with Body cultivation. I simply channeled a wisp of the crude Blood Qi from my Lower Dantian and pushed it into the crystal.
This time, the light was stronger. A bright, solid orange. I sighed in relief. Not because orange was a good color—it was actually a downgrade from Wei Fan's yellow—but because it proved my theory. My soul was different. The aptitude had changed. It wasn't just a fluke. I doubted Wei Fan could have fucked up his Body cultivation so badly in two months that it would drop a full grade, so this had to be me.
Next, I focused on Spirit cultivation, drawing on the minuscule amount of Fire Qi that lingered in my meridians. The crystal glowed again, this time a faint, flickering…
…orange.
Another downgrade. From green to orange. Great. So far, my reincarnation had turned me into an even bigger loser than the original owner of this body.
I suppose an orange-grade talent in Spirit cultivation meant I could light a small flame with my fingers, but that was probably the extent of my future fire-summoning abilities. Wei Fan had infused his Middle Dantian with Fire Qi (which was a permanent choice, by the way), but he'd never really trained it, focusing all his efforts on his already subpar Body cultivation. So I was stuck with Fire as my element. At least it wasn't something useless like water or… dirt. I could probably still start a campfire or something. Useful for survival, I guess.
I took a deep breath, trying to temper my disappointment, and finally focused on my Upper Dantian, the seat of my mind and source of my Dream Qi.
It was almost completely dormant. Wei Fan hadn't touched it in his entire life, ever since his assessment as a child had shown a red-grade aptitude for it. If this came out as red too, then I was well and truly screwed.
I didn't touch the crystal immediately, this time. Instead, I closed my eyes and began experimenting with circulating my Dream Qi, trying to get a feel for it. It was a bizarre sensation, completely different from the raw, explosive power of Blood Qi or the subtle flow of Spiritual Qi. Dream Qi was… fluid. Malleable. It felt less like a form of energy and more like an extension of my own thoughts. It felt like—
A pounding knock on the door jolted me out of my concentration. "Are you done in there?" the assistant's irritated voice called out. "Your five minutes are up!"
"Just one more moment!" I called back, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was now or never. A few minutes of playing around with Dream Qi wasn't going to change anything.
I touched the crystal once again, channeling the faint stream of Dream Qi into it…
…and the crystal erupted in light.
It shone with a silver radiance so brilliant that there was no way in hell the elder's assistant standing outside hadn't noticed.
It was so bright, in fact, that I had to close my eyes and shield them with my arm.
"What the hell?" I muttered, blinking and stumbling backward in shock.
No way. No fucking way.
I was a freaking Silver-grade talent in Mind cultivation.
I was a genius in Mind cultivation.
Then the light blinked, and… faded to red.
What the…?
A few seconds of intense confusion later, the light flared again—silver.
Then… red.
It was flickering.
I stared in utter confusion.
I kept staring until the door burst open.
"What—why are you naked?!" the assistant screeched.
I just managed to cut off the flow of Qi before she could see the flickering light. I snatched my robes off the crystal, scrambling to cover myself. The assistant was screaming something about me being a pervert and desecrating a sacred artifact, but I barely heard her.
Was Wei Fan's soul still somehow… here? Was it interfering with mine?
Was I even me anymore?
/-/
It was late at night by the time I was out of the Assessment Hall, sporting a fresh slap on my face from the assistant and another strike on Wei Fan's already abysmal reputation. I'd sold her some bullshit story about how I was conducting a "sacred ritual of self-reflection" and that my nudity was "a symbol of vulnerability before the heavens." She'd responded with the aforementioned slap and a threat to report me to the Disciplinary Elder. I'd only managed to placate her by groveling profusely and promising to never set foot in the Hall again unless expressly ordered by the sect.
Which seemed to work, somehow.
Honestly, I was getting sick of groveling. I'd never been particularly proud or egotistical back on Earth, but this world was testing my patience in ways I never thought possible.
Alas, it looked like I'd just have to suck it up and keep my head down for now.
Which also meant that pointless existential spirals about my identity and the metaphysical implications of soul transmigration would have to wait. I was still me, as far as I could tell. My taste in movies hadn't changed, I still hated pineapple on pizza, and I still couldn't stand the thought of wearing socks with sandals. Wei Fan's memories felt like a foreign archive shoved into the back of my brain—accessible, but distinctly not mine.
Ultimately, whether or not the aptitude flickering was due to Wei Fan's lingering influence or some bizarre cosmic glitch didn't matter right now. What mattered was figuring out exactly how talented I was—or wasn't—in Mind cultivation. The fact that I could sense and manipulate Dream Qi at all was already a promising start. A red Mind cultivation aptitude would have rendered that completely impossible.
And if I was actually a Silver-grade talent in Mind cultivation? Well, that changed everything.
I was experimenting with Dream Qi manipulation when I passed by the training courtyard I had woken up in just a few days ago. Li Qiang had cornered Wei Fan here and beaten him to death. I paused, a strange feeling of… not quite nostalgia, but something close to it, washing over me. It was the place where my new life had started and Wei Fan's had ended. A morbidly poetic crossroads, if ever there was one.
That was when I noticed the servant girl scrubbing the edge of a koi pond not far from where Li Qiang had pounded me into a human pancake. There was no one else around, and the sight of her startled me.
She wasn't what you'd call remarkable by any stretch—a plain face, messy brown hair tied back into a frayed bun, and hands so red and raw from scrubbing that I winced just looking at them. But when she met my eyes, there was no fear or subservience in her gaze. She was clearly a servant but didn't carry herself like one.
I approached with a slow, measured pace, not wanting to startle her. "You're out late," I said, my voice softer than I'd intended. I decided then and there to drop the stupid formal speech patterns. It was exhausting, and clearly unnecessary when talking to a servant. I let my real personality show, for once. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
She dropped the brush she was using and stood up, wiping her hands on her tattered apron. Then, she bowed. It was the most wooden and fake display of respect I'd seen in my short time here. I could tell because I'd been doing a lot of wooden and fake bowing myself.
"This servant was just finishing her duties, Young Master," she said, her voice a monotone. "I apologize if I disturbed you."
"Not at all," I replied, waving a dismissive hand. "I was just passing by. What's your name?"
She seemed to tense at the question. "This servant is called Ming Zhu, Young Master."
I nodded. "Ming Zhu. That's a nice name." I paused, then added, "you don't have to call me Young Master. My name is Danie—I mean, Wei Fan."
I cringed at the near slip-up. Old habits die hard, apparently.
Not that my new name was exactly a point of pride. Wei Fan's treatment of the servants had been, unsurprisingly, terrible.
But if she recognized me, she didn't show it. She just stared at me with those unnervingly dead eyes. "As you wish, Young Master Wei Fan."
"May I ask what you're cleaning?" I asked, gesturing to the pond. "Seems a little pointless to be scrubbing rocks in the middle of the night."
She shrugged. "One of the outer disciples got into a fight here earlier. The pond… got a little messy."
"Oh, you mean like he had a nosebleed or something?" I asked, peering into the water. It was surprisingly clear, reflecting the twin moons in the night sky. "Doesn't look too bad."
"He was torn apart," she said, her tone as flat as if she were describing the weather. "The other disciple ripped his limbs off and threw them in the pond. The koi were very happy."
I stared at her, then back at the pristine pond, then back at her again. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, so quick I almost missed it. "I don't joke, Young Master. One of the core disciples murdered an outer disciple in a fit of rage. Four days ago. The Disciplinary Elder punished her with a week of solitary confinement. I've been scrubbing the blood out of these stones ever since." She gestured to the pile of rocks next to her. They were immaculately clean. "The fish ate the flesh, but the bones are harder to get rid of."
It didn't take me long to put two and two together. Four days ago. A core disciple. A fit of rage.
Wei Ling.
"Are you okay, Young Master?" Ming Zhu asked. "You look a little pale."
"Have a good night," I managed to say, turning on my heel and walking away.
When I was back in the safety of my room, I collapsed onto the decrepit cot and stared at the cracked ceiling.
This wasn't right. Wei Ling had never outright killed some petty bully for beating up Wei Fan before.
It just wasn't right.
I closed my eyes and tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered like a splinter in my brain.
Why now? Why did she suddenly cross that line? What had changed?
The answer was obvious, wasn't it?
It had to be me.
But why?
Chapter 4 - Evening Drills
I spent most of the night turning around in my creaky cot, staring at the ceiling and imagining Wei Ling casually dismembering people and feeding them to fish. It wasn't exactly conducive to a good night's sleep. By the time the sun finally rose, casting a pale, grey light into my hovel of a room, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. My body ached, my head pounded, and my nerves were shot. I was a mess.
It also didn't help that the walls were paper-thin, and I could hear Wang Dong in the next room over doing his morning… "breathing exercises."
Yes, the outer disciples' quarters were about as private as a public restroom. My room was a glorified closet with a straw mat for a bed, a cracked basin for washing, and just enough floor space to avoid stepping on your own shit. A luxury suite, it was not. But it was a roof over my head, and given the recent events, I wasn't exactly in a position to complain.
I was cursing Wang Dong under my breath, though.
Groaning miserably, I dragged myself off the straw mat and splashed my face with water from the cracked basin. The person that stared at me back in the reflection was still a stranger. Wei Fan.
He wasn't ugly, per se, but he had a kind of generic, forgettable handsomeness. Sharp jawline, dark eyes, black hair that was currently a tangled mess. It wasn't usually a tangled mess. Wei Fan had wasted an ungodly amount of time on maintaining a ridiculous topknot that required at least three hours of daily grooming. There was no way in hell I was going to continue that tradition. In fact, I decided to chop it off right then and there. I used a rusty dagger I found under the cot and sawed through the thick, oiled hair until it was a more manageable, albeit uneven, mess of short strands. It wasn't a great look, but it was practical, and I couldn't care less about appearances right now.
I found some dried jerky and a stale crust of bread in a corner of the room and munched on it for breakfast. When I was done, I didn't leave the room. Instead, I sat up straight on the straw mat, legs crossed in a half-lotus position, and tried to meditate.
Specifically, I focused on the Dream Qi within my Upper Dantian. I began experimenting with it, trying to understand its flow and properties. I lost myself in the practice.
When lunchtime arrived a few hours later and my stomach started growling, I had several important discoveries under my belt. I grabbed some more dried jerky and sat back down to review my findings.
Most importantly, I managed to confirm that my Upper Dantian, despite being largely dormant, was indeed capable of generating Dream Qi. It was a slow process, but what little Qi I pushed out of it to the mess of my brain's meridians would slowly replenish itself over time.
Why the brain's meridians, specifically? Simple. As far as I could tell from Wei Fan's memories, the meridian system tied to Mind cultivation was strictly contained within the head. It made sense, given that the meridians for Body cultivation followed the blood vessels and spread out into the muscles, while the meridians for Spirit cultivation surrounded the chest and the heart area where the Middle Dantian was located.
So if I wanted to get my Dream Qi flowing, or more accurately, circulated, I had to focus on the meridians within my brain. It was important to get it circulated as soon as possible because every Path started with a basic circulation technique. Circulating Blood Qi was how I'd managed to sprint faster than an Olympic gold medalist to escape the Heavenly Skyblade disciple, as it was a general amplifier of physical performance. Circulating Spiritual Qi, on the other hand, had different effects depending on the specific element your Qi was infused with. Circulating Fire Qi made you immune to heat, circulating Water Qi made the water in your body literally lighter and allowed you to swim faster, and so on. As for circulating Dream Qi? I really had no clue. The Burning Maw Valley, as the name suggested, was mostly home to Body and Fire cultivators. Mind cultivation was pretty rare in this region, and Wei Fan certainly hadn't wasted a ton of time learning about it.
Therefore, my first step would be to complete a full cycle of Dream Qi circulation through the brain's meridians. A single cycle should suffice to activate some kind of effect, and it would also prove without a doubt that my aptitude for Mind cultivation was far above red-level trash.
Unfortunately, the amount of sludge clogging up my Mind meridians was absolutely staggering. Wei Fan's mind meridians were so congested with impurities that trying to circulate Dream Qi through them was like trying to push water through a blocked pipe. I had spent three hours tracing the pathways of my mind meridians looking for a single full path that wasn't completely blocked, and I hadn't found one. The best I could manage was a short, fragmented loop that stopped halfway through its natural course. And that wasn't good enough to generate any sort of effect. You needed to draw Dream Qi out of your Upper Dantian, circulate it through a complete cycle of connected meridians, and return it to the Upper Dantian to create resonance. Anything less than a complete cycle was just wasted Qi that dissipated without any lasting benefit.
Would finding an official Mind circulation manual help? Possibly. Circulation techniques had a lot of theory behind them, and a proper manual might contain tips on clearing meridian blockages or alternative pathways I hadn't considered. But finding such a manual in the Crimson Blade Sect would be close to impossible. I would, of course, check out the outer disciple library just in case, but I wasn't hopeful.
I sighed to myself, stretching my cramped legs. The problem was that I just didn't have time to slowly figure this all out the traditional way. The Crimson Blade sect, sadly, wasn't the kind of sect where you could just slack off and do whatever you wanted. Every disciple, even a lowly outer disciple like me, had mandatory duties and training sessions. Failure to attend would result in getting hit with infraction points, and accumulating enough of those could lead to punishments ranging from extra chores to public whippings to outright locking you in an iron coffin with spikes for days on end. I wish I could say I was exaggerating about that last one, but Wei Fan's memories were very clear on the matter.
I'd already ditched my morning duties today. If I missed Evening Drills as well, I'd definitely be on someone's shit list.
I had to show up, at least for appearances' sake.
I choked down the last of the jerky, stood up, and mentally prepared myself for an evening of mandatory Body cultivation exercises. This was going to suck.
It was when I was cracking my spine from the stiffness of sitting in meditation all day that a thought struck me like a thunderbolt.
The spinal cord. Wasn't it full of nerves connected to the brain? If my anatomy courses back on Earth were anything to go by, the spinal cord was like a grand highway of nerve signals connecting the brain to the rest of the body. It wasn't technically inside my skull, but it was like an extension of it. You literally thought with your spine, in a way.
Well, maybe not literally, but it was close enough. Could Dream Qi circulate through the spinal cord? Could it be an alternative pathway to complete a cycle?
I gave it a moment of serious consideration. While Wei Fan's biology knowledge ended at "muscles hurt, need more meat," I was fairly certain that the other inhabitants of this world were a little more advanced in their understanding of anatomy and physiology. I wasn't that naïve to think I was some kind of genius who had stumbled upon a revolutionary new idea. Still, Mind cultivation was a fairly niche Way to begin with, and many sects kept their secrets tightly guarded. I could definitely see the possibility that an unorthodox technique like this might be known to only a select few, or even lost to time. Maybe the common knowledge of "Mind cultivation meridians are only in the brain" was just that—common knowledge. Simplistic, and not entirely accurate.
So… I guess it was worth a try?
Getting excited despite myself, I dropped back into my meditation posture and focused on the base of my skull, where the brain met the spinal cord.
I zoomed in with my senses, probing the area with my Dream Qi like a blind man feeling his way through a dark room. There had to be a connection here. The mind meridians had to flow downward somewhere. I just had to find it.
Time slipped away as I carefully explored the junction.
When the final gong signaled the start of Evening Drills about three hours later, I almost didn't hear it.
I was staring with my mind's eye at a tiny, almost invisible thread of Dream Qi that was snaking its way out of my brain and down into my spinal cord. A single, tenuous connection. It was so faint that it felt like it could snap at any moment, but it was there. And it was squeaky clean. And it looped back into my Upper Dantian from my lower back.
"Huh," I muttered to myself. "I guess that works."
I had found my complete cycle.
/-/
"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS ARE YOU FOOLS DOING?! GET IN FORMATION NOW, YOU MAGGOTS!"
I'd sprinted all the way to the training courtyard, arriving just in time for Instructor Bai's customary opening tirade. He was a hulking brute with a voice that could shatter eardrums and a face that looked like it had lost a fight with a brick wall. He was also the most feared and hated instructor in the entire outer sect. Which meant he was the perfect motivational speaker for a bunch of aspiring meatheads trying to cultivate their way to glory through sheer masochism.
"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" Instructor Bai's voice boomed across the courtyard, cracking like a whip. "YOU CALL THIS A FORMATION? MY GRANDMOTHER'S KNITTING CIRCLE HAS MORE DISCIPLINE! DO YOU THINK THE DEMONIC HORDES ARE GOING TO WAIT FOR YOU TO TIDY UP YOUR RANKS BEFORE THEY DEVOUR YOUR SOULS? I WANT TO SEE STRAIGHT LINES, YOU WORTHLESS PIECES OF SECT-FUNDED FODDER! STRAIGHT! LINES!"
In the blink of an eye, the scattered outer disciples scrambled into formation, forming two ragged lines. I shuffled towards the left side of the formation, joining the ranks of the First Realms, who were mostly scrawny teenagers and middle-aged washouts. This might sound like a harsh assessment, but it was also an accurate assessment. The truth was, if your clan had enough money to buy you a position in the sect, the sect would happily accept you, regardless of your talent.
Cannon fodder, after all, was always in high demand.
And so was funding for the sect's more promising disciples.
I scanned the two lines and noticed that most of the faces were unfamiliar to me. That was… interesting. I guess watching a movie of Wei Fan's life play out in my head wasn't enough to develop a photographic memory of all his acquaintances.
Not that Wei Fan had many such acquaintances to begin with.
I recognized two faces. There was the spiky-haired girl waving at me enthusiastically from the Second Realm side, who I recognized as a particularly psychopathic partner he'd teamed up with during a past sect mission, and the slimy-looking guy in the front row who was essentially Wei Fan's drug dealer for low-grade "cultivation" stimulants. Yes, it was exactly what it sounded like. Basically, the cultivation equivalent of steroids. I probably owed him money too, now that I thought about it.
"Good evening, disciples," Instructor Bai said, his voice dropping abruptly to a conversational tone. "As some of you may have noticed, we have a new face among the Second Realms tonight." He gestured towards a guy in the front row, who stood a head taller than everyone else. "Disciple Li Hu has finally broken through to the Second Realm. Seven months after the average disciple, I might add, but progress is progress. Let's give him a round of applause for his… mediocre achievement."
If Li Hu took offense at the backhanded compliment, he didn't show it. He didn't show any emotion at all, really. He just stood there, expressionless, as the rest of us clapped half-heartedly.
"As such," Instructor Bai continued. "It is tradition for a newly promoted disciple to issue a challenge. A chance to test their newfound strength against a worthy opponent."
Ah right, the good ol' "beat up a weaker disciple to show off your progress" ritual. It was basically a rite of passage for new Second Realms. A way to assert dominance and establish their position in the pecking order. Thankfully, the Second Realms generally left the weaker First Realms alone. The whole point of this tradition was to create a spectacle and show off your strength, and beating up a First Realm hardly qualified as a spectacle.
"Li Hu!" Instructor Bai barked. "Step forward! Choose your opponent!"
I blinked in surprise as Li Hu's gaze swept over the assembled disciples and settled… right on me.
Wait a second…
…Li Hu?
A flash of memory quickly cleared up the confusion.
"YOU DARE SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN?! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO MY COUSIN LI QIANG?! I, LI HU, WILL AVENGE HIM!"
Oh, Li Hu.
Right.
Oh crap…
"I have words to speak first, Instructor Bai," Li Hu said. "If I may."
"This isn't a tea party, Disciple Li," Instructor Bai grunted. "Keep it short."
Li Hu simply nodded and jumped on the sparring platform in the center of the courtyard. He was so tall that standing on the platform made him tower several heads over everyone else in the yard, including the instructor. Behind him, the Burning Maw Valley was a sea of red and orange, the setting sun painting the volcanic landscape with fire. It was a dramatic backdrop, to say the least. It was also a long, long way down, as the training courtyard was carved into the side of the mountain with no safety barriers in sight.
The wind picked up, whipping through Li Hu's long hair and crimson robes, making him look like some kind of avenging god descending from the heavens.
When he finally spoke, I was surprised by how soft and even his voice was. "Disciples of the Crimson Blade Sect," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard. "You all know me. You know my family. You know my cousin, Li Qiang." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "And you all know what happened to him."
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd and a lot of heads turning in my direction. I could feel my palms sweating.
"Li Qiang was a good man. A father, a husband, a loyal disciple of this sect. He was not a saint, but he did not deserve to die the way he did." Li Hu's voice was still calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it now. "He was murdered. Butchered by a madwoman, a demon in human skin. And why? Because of a petty squabble. Because a worthless piece of trash couldn't handle a few well-deserved punches."
"Get to the point, Disciple Li," Instructor Bai interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "This is a challenge, not a eulogy."
"Yes, Instructor," Li Hu replied smoothly. He finally turned to me, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Wei Fan, when you were whoring around in the middle of the night, I was training. When you were getting drunk and insulting your betters, I was training. When you were hiding behind your sister's skirts like a coward, I was training. And now, I have finally reached the Second Realm of Body cultivation. I am no longer the weakling you once mocked. I am Li Hu, and I am here to avenge my cousin." He clenched his fists, and a faint red aura of Blood Qi flared around his body. "I challenge you, Wei Fan. To a deathmatch!"
I froze. A deathmatch? Was that even allowed?
"Wei Fan!" Instructor Bai roared. "You have been challenged. Do you accept?"
Oh so I had a choice in this matter? Sweet.
"I do not," I replied as calmly as I could manage. Because why would I? "I politely decline Disciple Li Hu's generous offer."
My refusal did not sit well with the crowd.