Life after rebirth was, for Li Gang, a long and grueling period of torment disguised as adaptation. He was a man who had once stood atop the peak of the cultivation world, a titan who looked down upon all living beings with the casual indifference of a god. Now, he found himself confined within the frail, soft cage of a five or six year old child. The transition was not merely a change of scenery; it was a fundamental insult to his very existence.
In the quiet hours of the night, while the other orphans slept in a chorus of soft snores and rustling blankets, he would sit cross legged on his thin mattress. He tried to circulate the most basic body refining techniques from his previous life, the foundation of the Indestructible Golden Body. He attempted to re nourish the already dry qi and blood, hoping to spark the furnace of his dantian once more.
Progress was not fast in the traditional sense, but it was not slow either. The effect was surprisingly good, though not in the way he expected. His qi and blood did not swell into a golden ocean as they once had; instead, the pure, raw strength of this mortal body began to recover at a terrifying speed. It was as if his soul was a massive weight being poured into a small porcelain vessel. The vessel was hardening to compensate, growing denser and heavier by the day.
However, the return of strength did not bring him joy. Instead, it became a series of persistent, exhausting troubles.
Smash!
In the quiet heat of a Tuesday afternoon, Li Gang just wanted a simple drink of water. The cheap, mass produced glass in his hand shattered with a sharp clang the moment he tried to lift it to his lips. Warm water mixed with jagged glass shards flowed over his small hand.
He expressionlessly released his grip, allowing the remnants to clatter onto the floor. He looked at his unharmed palm. Not a single scratch marked his skin, but his jawline tensed with frustration. His control was slipping. His soul remembered the strength of a god, but his nervous system was that of a toddler.
The incidents began to stack like cordwood. When he went to the dining hall to open the door, the metal doorknob came off with a gentle tug, bringing the screws and jagged wood splinters out of the frame along with it. While running in the corridor to catch the midday bell, a slight exertion of force caused the old wooden floorboards to let out a groan of protest, leaving behind a clear, splintered crack where his foot had landed.
He became the orphanage's veritable King of Destruction.
The caregivers looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and weariness. He had to be constantly on edge, controlling his body as if he were cradling a piece of thin glass that would shatter at a mere thought. This feeling of constant frustration, of being a giant living in a dollhouse, was even more unbearable than facing the heavenly lightning of his past life. At least the lightning had the decency to fight back.
At lunch that day, the cafeteria served dry, tasteless bread and a small, precious piece of butter. For the orphans, that bit of fat was a rare luxury.
Li Gang was silently gnawing on his bread, lost in thoughts of internal alchemy and the structure of his new meridians, when several figures surrounded him. Their shadows stretched across his scarred wooden table.
The leader was a chubby boy a head taller than him named Danny. Danny was a notorious bully, the undisputed king of the playground who ruled through a combination of extra weight and a mean streak. He was followed by two equally sturdy cronies, all three wearing malicious smiles that spoke of boredom and cruelty.
"Hey, freak," Danny's voice was greasy, dripping with unearned confidence. "Your butter looks good. Give it to me before I take it."
Li Gang did not even lift an eyelid. He continued to chew his bread with rhythmic precision. He had lived for three thousand years; he had no interest in responding to the posturing of a child who hadn't even reached puberty. To him, Danny was less than an ant; he was a fleeting speck of dust in the wind of time.
Seeing his total disregard, Danny's face fell, turning a mottled shade of red. He felt the eyes of the other children on him. Insulted by the silence, he reached out a meaty hand to snatch the butter from Li Gang's plate.
A long suppressed irritation instantly surged into Li Gang's heart. He was trying to be peaceful. He was trying to adapt. He did not want trouble, but that did not mean he would tolerate flies buzzing in his ears while he ate.
His eyes grew cold. He looked up, and in those clear eyes that should have belonged to an innocent child, a chilling gaze flashed. It was a look of ancient, primordial authority, completely unbefitting his age.
He just wanted to push away Danny's dirty hand. Nothing more.
So, he extended his small hand, aiming for the center of Danny's chest, and gave what he considered to be a gentle push.
The next moment, a bizarre and terrifying scene unfolded.
Danny, the chubby boy who weighed at least twice as much as Li Gang, was sent flying backward with a sickening whoosh. It was as if he had been hit head on by a truck moving at full speed. His feet actually left the ground, and he sailed through the air like a discarded ragdoll.
Bang!
With a dull, heavy thud, Danny's corpulent body slammed against a distant brick wall. The sound was so loud it silenced the entire dining hall instantly. He slid down the wall like a pile of wet mud, slumping to the floor in a heap. His eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth hung wide open, but he was unable to utter a single sound. Only the faint, rhythmic twitches of his limbs indicated he was still among the living.
The entire dining hall was as silent as a tomb.
The children stopped chewing. The caregivers, who had been chatting in the corner, rushed over at the sound of the impact. They were all dumbfounded. Their gazes shifted back and forth between the thin, scrawny boy known as Li Wolf and the pile of mud in the distant corner. Their eyes were filled with an incomprehensible horror.
"Oh my goodness! Danny!" Mrs. Martha, the head caregiver, shrieked as she scrambled across the floor.
After a frantic examination, the conclusion made everyone even more unnerved. Danny had no broken bones. He didn't even have any obvious bruises. He was just... scared senseless. His mind had simply shut down to protect itself from the impossibility of what had happened.
Ultimately, the incident was classified as Danny accidentally tripping and falling with unusual momentum. No one believed that the frail boy, who looked like he could be blown away by a sharp gust of London wind, could send a boy twice his size flying with a single slap. It defied the laws of physics as they knew them.
But from that day on, a silent perimeter was established. No one in the orphanage dared to approach within three meters of Li Wolf. He became the freak in the eyes of all the children, a walking source of accidents that defied explanation.
Li Gang was merely helpless about this. He didn't want the isolation, but he didn't exactly hate it either. He began to control himself with even more extreme focus, practicing the art of picking up a thin embroidery needle using a ton of potential force without snapping it. Solitude, paradoxically, brought him a rare tranquility that allowed his body to mature at its own strange pace.
________
Time, like sand through fingers, quietly slipped away.
Several years passed, and Li Gang, or rather Li Wolf, grew to be eleven years old.
His physique looked exceptionally strong for his age. To a casual observer, he appeared more like eighteen than eleven. Beneath his thin, oversized clothes were well defined muscles that were far beyond what ordinary people could imagine. His skin had a healthy, almost metallic sheen to it if the light hit it just right. His control over his strength had become much more precise through years of agonizing self restraint. Although his accident prone constitution remained a lingering shadow, he at least no longer casually crushed every cup he touched.
This morning, London was, as usual, shrouded in a thin, gray mist that tasted of coal smoke and damp stone.
Li Wolf was leaning by the window of the second floor dormitory, feeling the faint moisture in the air. He was attempting to perform a basic qi absorption cycle through his skin, a method of body cultivation that didn't require high ambient energy, when a dark shadow suddenly crashed into the glass in front of him.
Bang!
It was an owl. It looked a bit disoriented, its feathers ruffled as if it had flown through a gale. It shook its head, blinked its large, amber eyes, and dropped a letter it was carrying in its beak onto the windowsill. Without waiting for a response, it flapped its wings and flew back into the mist.
A letter? For me?
Li Wolf was puzzled. He had no relatives, no friends, and certainly no pen pals.
The material of this letter was very peculiar. It wasn't the cheap paper used in the orphanage, but a thick, yellowed parchment that felt heavy with age. The address was written in a flowing script with emerald green ink. On the back, a strange wax seal caught the light, imprinted with a shield shaped crest composed of four animals: a lion, an eagle, a snake, and a badger.
The recipient's column was chillingly precise:
Mr. Li Wolf, Second Floor, Window side Bed, St. Catherine's Orphanage, London.
With a hint of caution, he pinched the envelope. The thick parchment felt like a crisp biscuit between his fingers. He had to be careful; even now, a lapse in concentration could turn the letter to confetti. With a soft rip, he easily tore it open.
He pulled out the letter inside, his gaze sweeping over the heading with growing confusion.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Principal: Albus Dumbledore (Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin, First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Mr. Wolf,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by return post.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Principal
Li Gang's brow slowly furrowed. A never before seen expression of mixed surprise and confusion settled on his face. This was not the world he thought he knew.
"Magic?"
He whispered the unfamiliar word, a sense of deep absurdity rising within him. He had spent years thinking he was in a world of mundane mortals, a place where his only challenge was not breaking the furniture.
"What is this thing?"
He weighed his iron hard fist, slowly clenching it. His knuckles made a series of fine, crisp cracks that sounded like stones grinding together.
"Is it harder than my fist?"