The moon hung high above Shang City as Zhen Zenin wandered the outskirts alone, breath misting in the cold air.
He walked far from the clan grounds, past rusted gates and abandoned courtyards, until he stood before a ruined shrine—an old, forgotten place dedicated to a long-dead flame god.
Zenin had passed this place before in his old life, back when he ruled from a throne of skulls. He could sense faint traces of spiritual residue here. Now, in this body, those traces called to him.
He stepped inside.
Dust choked the air. Cracks split the stone altar. But buried beneath rubble and moss, he found it—a manual, scorched at the edges, wrapped in faded crimson cloth.
"Blazing Vein Technique," he read aloud, eyes narrowing. It was a fire-based body refinement art. Dangerous, painful… perfect.
He sat down and opened the scroll. The first page bled with dense characters etched by blood qi. It required igniting one's meridians through raw heat and force—primitive, but effective.
Zenin smiled. "This will do."
---
Back in the shadows of his shack, he began the ritual.
Stripping to the waist, he placed candles in a circle, each one dipped in beast oil to raise the flame's heat. As they burned, sweat poured from his skin. The air thickened. His vision blurred.
He sat cross-legged and began breathing in rhythm, cycling his blood through the body at an unnatural pace, pushing it into the meridians.
Pain. Like fire inside his veins.
He gritted his teeth. "No more weakness…"
Flames licked the floor around him. A low hum pulsed from his body.
Then—snap!
One of his meridians opened. A rush of qi entered. Warm, slow… but real.
His eyes opened, bloodshot but glowing faintly.
"Mortal Realm... first stage," he whispered.
It was nothing compared to his former glory—but it was a start.
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For the first time in this life, Zhen Zenin was cultivating.
And those who had laughed at him… would soon learn to kneel.
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