Chapter 2 — Training Regimen
The sun had not yet fully broken through the forest canopy when Lian Fang — or rather, Rein, as he remembered being called in his previous life — began his daily training regimen.
Before him, tied to a tree, was a small spiritual beast. The creature looked like a mix between a cat and a miniature panther, with black fur mottled with bluish spots and fierce eyes that gleamed with hostility. Despite its small size, it was agile, unpredictable, and extremely aggressive.
Rein had already given it a name: Shadow Prowler.
This was the seventh time he had fought it that morning.
The twelve-year-old boy's body — small, skinny, and covered in marks — was scratched, bruised, and laced with shallow cuts. His arm muscles trembled, and his chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm.
Even so, he stood up. Always stood up.
"Fighting is the most direct way to grow stronger in this world," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"It doesn't matter whether you're chasing power, survival, or freedom. In this place... you either hit or get hit."
The beast lunged again. He rolled to the side, tried to counter with a rock wrapped in a crude thread of Qi, failed, and took another scratch to his arm. But he managed to land a sharp kick to its side, forcing it to retreat.
By the end of the bout, both were exhausted. Rein dropped to his knees, bleeding from his shoulder and thigh.
Beside him, a small improvised cauldron boiled with medicinal herbs he had gathered himself — some multiplied with his gift. After twenty minutes submerged in the bitter, greenish liquid, his wounds began to close slowly, leaving only residual pain and fatigue.
Once he had recovered enough to walk, he carefully released Shadow Prowler.
— Go. We'll do this again tomorrow.
The beast hesitated for a moment, then vanished into the underbrush.
Back at the modest inn where he was staying, Rein took a quick bath and went down to the restaurant on the ground floor. The place was quiet, smelling of jasmine tea and rice porridge.
As he approached the counter, he noticed three cultivators speaking with the innkeeper — two young men and a woman. All three wore blue robes with silver insignias on their chests — symbols of the Celestial Stone Sect, one of the most powerful sects in the Yellow River region.
— We know exactly what happened — said the first young man, tall and arrogantly handsome. His name was Fang Lau, an inner disciple of the sect.
The innkeeper, a woman with graying hair tied in an elegant bun, crossed her arms behind the counter.
— I understand you have your duties, young sirs — she said firmly. — But I have my own code to uphold. One of them is to never reveal the name or whereabouts of my guests. Wandering cultivators depend on that. It's an old and fair tradition.
The female cultivator, whose face was striking and eyes sharp, folded her arms. Her name was Lin Rouya, and she looked restless, as if something deeply bothered her.
The third young man, more reserved and thoughtful in demeanor, was Huang Renjie. His tone was neutral, his gaze analytical.
— You know we're not here for trifles — he said politely. — But we respect your stance.
Rein watched all of this as he descended the stairs slowly. He couldn't hear the full conversation, but he could sense the tension in the air. When he reached the final step, he noticed Lin Rouya staring at him.
"Why is she looking at me like that? Do I look guilty? Or maybe I still smell like panther blood?"
She stepped forward, climbing a single step toward him. She extended her hand with a neutral yet intense expression.
— You. — she said. — What are you doing here?
Rein blinked. Unsure whether it was a threat or a formality, he replied with a sarcastic smile:
— What do I owe the honor of your illustrious presence?
She didn't smile back.
— Nothing. But you reek of misfortune.
"Wait... what?"
"Reek? I just took a bath!"
She narrowed her eyes.
— That scent... I've only smelled it near corpses. Or people who were already doomed to become one.
Behind her, Fang Lau and Huang Renjie approached quickly.
— Rouya, what is it? — asked Fang, stepping beside her.
— Is everything alright? — Renjie's tone remained calm, but alert.
— He caught my attention — she answered. — His scent is strong. Heavy. As if he's made some kind of pact with death.
Fang Lau raised an eyebrow with a sneer.
— This kid? Just a filthy little mortal?
Rein crossed his arms, holding his ground.
— Actually, I'm training. External cultivation for now. Trying to improve my endurance, physical strength... the basics. One day, I hope to become an outer sect member somewhere. Maybe even yours.
The trio exchanged glances. Fang Lau scoffed, Rouya kept her eyes fixed on him, and Renjie gave a subtle nod.
— Ambition's not lacking, at least — commented Renjie.
— Just be careful of the path you choose, boy — said Rouya, backing away.
The conversation dissipated, but Rein couldn't shake the chill her presence had left in his spine. He climbed the stairs back to his room slowly, wondering if he had stared at her too long — or if that "scent of misfortune" was something real.
Outside, the three disciples spoke quietly among themselves.
— Is he connected to the case? — Fang Lau asked.
— Maybe not directly — Rouya replied. — But he could be involved… or the trigger.
— Let's keep watching him — Renjie concluded.