After the cultivators left, the atmosphere in Gu Peak Village quickly returned to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. People went back to their farming, firewood, and the endless struggle against hunger and cold.
For Luo Yun, life didn't change at all.
He wasn't chosen. No one remembered him. No one cared about the faint shimmer that appeared on the spiritual testing mirror when he touched it.
But he remembered.
That faint glimmer — no matter how weak — was real.
And even the smallest light can ignite hope.
In the days that followed, Luo Yun continued to cultivate in secret. Every evening, after finishing the day's heavy labor, he would quietly sneak up to the cave behind the mountain where no one ever came, and resume his body training.
His body ached constantly. The pain stretched from his knees to his shoulders, from his chest to his dantian. Some nights, he collapsed in the cave, shaking from exhaustion, pain, cold, and hunger.
But he never stopped.
Because each time he pushed past his limits, he felt a tiny thread of warmth rise within him. He didn't know exactly where it came from, but it flowed — slow and faint — like life itself.
"Body cultivation doesn't rely on talent," Luo Yun realized.
"As long as I endure and don't give up… this body will change."
One night, as he left the cave, he saw something strange.
A soft green light flickered near the edge of the forest — the forest behind the village that people called the Forbidden Woods.
Everyone feared that place. Elders warned children never to go near. Some claimed people had gone in and never come back. They spoke of spirits, demons, and strange cries in the night.
Most of it was probably just stories.
But that light — it was real.
A soft, flickering green glow — like a firefly, but larger and more stable.
Luo Yun remembered what the elder from Xuanling Sect had said:
"Some spiritual herbs only grow in remote and dangerous places.
If someone finds even one… it could be the key to changing their fate."
That glow might be a spirit herb.
Or it might be something deadly.
But Luo Yun understood something very clearly:
If he kept living the way he was now, he would die — from hunger, sickness, or some villager's angry kick.
He couldn't wait for a miracle.
He had to make his own.
The next night, under the moonlight, Luo Yun packed a small bag — some dry bread, a rusty knife, a water pouch — and left the village in silence.
He stepped into the Forbidden Woods.
The air grew colder, thicker. The trees were twisted, their trunks warped as if clawed by unseen hands. The smell of damp rot filled his nose. There were no birds, no insects, only the crunch of his footsteps on dead leaves.
After some searching, Luo Yun finally saw it.
A small patch of grass grew between two large roots. Its leaves were slender, and its single bud gave off a steady green glow.
A spirit herb.
He had never seen one before, but he remembered the description from his manual:
Green Spirit Grass – a basic ingredient for body tempering pills. Eating it raw can enhance physical recovery and improve the flow of meridians.
Luo Yun stepped forward, heart pounding.
Just as his hand reached for the plant—
Crack.
A branch snapped behind him.
He turned quickly.
In the darkness, two golden eyes appeared.
A Shadow Wolf.
Slightly larger than a hunting dog, its black fur shimmered, and its fangs gleamed white. It limped on one leg — injured — but its eyes were full of killing intent.
Luo Yun froze.
He couldn't run. He wasn't fast, or strong, and he had nowhere to hide.
There was only one option — fight.
The wolf lunged. Luo Yun rolled to the side and slashed with his knife. He missed the eye but left a cut across its cheek. The beast howled, swiped with a claw, and tore a deep gash across his left arm.
Blood poured out.
Gritting his teeth, Luo Yun grabbed a broken branch nearby and jabbed it into the wolf's ribs. Once. Twice. Again.
Finally, the wolf collapsed, twitching before falling still.
Luo Yun fell back, panting, his arm trembling.
He was bleeding, weak, but — he was alive.
And the spirit herb still glowed beside him.
He didn't return to the village.
Instead, he dragged himself back to the cave and bit off half of the spirit grass.
It was bitter — intensely so. His throat burned as he swallowed.
Then came the heat.
A surge of warmth spread through his body. His wound itched, then began to slowly close. His sore muscles eased. That warmth flowed into his meridians, soft but clear.
He sat cross-legged and focused, guiding the energy as the manual had described.
When morning came and he opened his eyes, the world felt different.
His vision was clearer.
His body lighter.
His movements faster.
He had officially stepped into the first level of body cultivation.
To others, this meant nothing.
But to Luo Yun, it meant everything.
He had no spiritual roots. No master. No sect. No resources.
But now… he had taken his first true step.
One spirit herb.
One life-and-death fight.
One rusty blade.
That was all it took to begin changing his fate.
He clenched his fists and looked toward the sky.
"This world wasn't made for people like me," he whispered.
"But if there's no place for me…
I'll carve one with my own hands."
"Step by step…
Until the world has no choice but to notice me."