BAM!
The punch cracked against Feng Xuan's left cheek like thunder, nearly unhinging his jaw. He crumpled to the ground, his face burning with pain and humiliation. The rough stone bricks scraped against his palms as he tried to steady himself, their cold surface a stark contrast to the fire spreading across his cheek. Above him, Tian Li rolled up his purple sleeves with a smirk that made Feng Xuan's blood boil.
"Feng Xuan, just give me ten minos and we'll call it even." Tian Li's tone was casual, as if he hadn't just knocked his former friend flat against the unforgiving street. The arrogant cultivator examined his knuckles with the detached interest of someone inspecting a tool after use.
Feng Xuan pressed his palm against the cold stone, using it to push himself upright. His legs trembled like autumn leaves in the wind, but he forced strength into his voice. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and his vision swam slightly from the impact. "No way"
Another punch sent him flying through the air. This time an uppercut that slammed his teeth together with an audible click and launched him three meters back across the street. Dust exploded around his impact point like a small avalanche, coating his already dirty robes in another layer of grime. The blow carried such force that it could have shattered the ribs of an adult wolf, yet Tian Li had delivered it with the casual ease of swatting a fly.
By the time Feng Xuan managed to lift his head and clear the dust from his eyes, Tian Li was already sprinting away down the winding street, his laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings like the cackle of a demon.
'We used to be friends,' Feng Xuan thought bitterly, remembering better days when they'd shared meals and dreams of cultivation together. 'Before he gained power and I remained nothing.'
He spat a mixture of blood and dust into the street, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. For someone with no cultivation base, even Tian Li's playful strikes hit like sledgehammers wielded by giants. Each casual blow reminded Feng Xuan of the vast chasm that separated the powerful from the powerless in this world. But today was different. Today, everything will change.
The determination that had kept him alive on the streets for years now burned brighter than ever in his chest. 'Today is the day I begin my cultivation journey.'
The lighting pearls began to glow as evening approached, their soft luminescence casting dancing shadows across Hangu District's crowded streets. Feng Xuan walked with measured purpose toward the narrow alley behind Old Chen's Noodle Shop, his arms clasped behind his back in what he hoped projected dignity rather than desperation. His muscles still ached from Tian Li's beating, each step a reminder of his current weakness.
The pink sky above churned with purple-tinged clouds that seemed to mirror his turbulent emotions. Somewhere in this maze of twisting streets and hidden corners, a wandering merchant sold cultivation techniques at a fraction of the normal price. Street legends spoke of cultivators who'd begun their incredible journeys with his random wares third-rate to first-rate techniques, all mixed together like precious gems and worthless stones in a gambler's collection.
'What if he's not there today?' The doubt crept in with each echoing footstep. 'What if I'm chasing shadows and fairy tales told by desperate beggars?'
The familiar scents of the district wafted around him incense from the local shrines, roasted meat from street vendors, and the ever-present smell of too many people living too close together. Children ran between his legs, their laughter a stark contrast to the weight of his mission. Merchants called out their wares from doorways and stalls, their voices creating a symphony of commerce that had become the soundtrack of his life.
But as Feng Xuan rounded the final corner into the alley's darkness, his heart leaped. There, sitting cross-legged against the moss-covered wall like a statue come to life, was the figure from countless stories. The man wore dark gray robes that seemed to absorb the fading light, and a wide-brimmed straw hat cast deep shadows over most of his weathered face. Only his red eyes gleamed in the gloom like twin embers in a cold hearth.
"What do you need, young one?" The merchant's voice carried no emotion, as flat and unchanging as still water.
Feng Xuan bowed slightly, drawing upon every lesson in courtesy he'd learned during his years with the Beggar Sect. Respect cost nothing, but disrespect could cost everything. "Honored merchant, I would like to purchase a third-rate technique and a Qi Gathering manual, if you would be so kind."
Without speaking another word, the mysterious merchant reached into the folds of his voluminous robes and produced five slim volumes, their covers gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. He arranged them carefully on the ground between them like a dealer laying out cards. "Choose wisely."
The titles were inscribed in flowing script that seemed to shimmer in the dim light: Azure Flame, Crimson Blood, Survival Eye, Void Sword, and Invisible Dagger. Each name carried weight and promise, hinting at the power contained within their pages. Feng Xuan reached for the first book, curiosity overcoming caution, but crushing spiritual pressure slammed into him like an invisible mountain.
His muscles felt like they were being torn apart fiber by fiber, and cold sweat erupted across his entire body. The pain was so intense that his vision blurred and his knees buckled. He gasped for air that seemed too thick to breathe, his entire body trembling under the weight of power beyond his comprehension.
"A suggestion from one who has seen many choose," the merchant said with calm authority, seemingly unaware of the agony he'd just inflicted. "Focus your attention on Survival Eye, Void Sword, or Invisible Dagger. The others... are not suited for one at your current level."
The crushing pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Feng Xuan gasping and shaking. He took several deep breaths, his mind racing as he considered the merchant's words. Each technique likely had its merits, but he had to think strategically about his future survival.
Martial arts techniques like Void Sword or Invisible Dagger would only take him so far without proper backing, resources, or inherited weapons. In a world where sect disciples received the finest equipment and training from birth, a street orphan wielding stolen techniques would always be at a disadvantage. But the Survival Eye... that sounded like something that could keep him alive long enough to grow stronger, to learn, to eventually claim his place among the powerful.
"I choose Survival Eye," he declared with as much confidence as he could muster.
The merchant nodded approvingly and handed him the selected technique along with a basic Qi Gathering manual bound in what looked like salamander leather. Both books felt warm to the touch, as if they contained living energy within their pages.
"The price is ninety-five minos total. Seventy-five for the technique manual, twenty for the foundational cultivation guide," the merchant stated in his emotionless tone.
Feng Xuan carefully counted out his coins every precious mino he'd saved from months of running dangerous errands for the Beggar Sect, carrying messages through territories controlled by rival gangs, and guiding nervous merchants through the district's more perilous shortcuts. Each coin represented risks taken, beatings endured, and meals skipped. The merchant's spiritual sense swept over the payment like an invisible hand, and Feng Xuan could feel the pressure of that alien consciousness examining each piece of currency for authenticity.
Apparently satisfied, the merchant made the coins disappear into his robes with a gesture too quick to follow. Then, as suddenly as he'd appeared in the stories, he vanished into the evening air, leaving only the faintest trace of otherworldly energy and the lingering scent of ancient incense.
'Well,' Feng Xuan thought, clutching his precious purchases to his chest, 'I should celebrate this moment before diving headfirst into the dangerous world of cultivation.'
The noodle shop's yellow paper lanterns cast warm, welcoming light across its crowded interior, creating dancing shadows that made the scene feel almost magical. The rich scent of pork broth simmered with star anise and ginger made Feng Xuan's mouth water uncontrollably as he navigated between packed tables to find an empty spot near the counter. The familiar sounds of chopsticks clicking against ceramic bowls and satisfied customers slurping their noodles created a comforting backdrop that reminded him of simpler times.
After ordering his favorite combination Giangi noodles with extra pork, sesame oil, a perfectly soft-boiled egg, and the restaurant's famous triple shrimp bean paste he carefully cracked open the Qi Gathering manual to begin his education.
One hundred densely packed pages of cultivation theory and practical exercises lay before him, written in the flowing script common to most martial arts texts. According to the detailed explanations, cultivation began with the deceptively simple task of sensing the ambient qi that flowed through all living things and the world itself. Once a practitioner could perceive this invisible energy, they had to learn to draw it into their meridians, the spiritual veins that ran throughout the human body like a secondary circulatory system.
The next step involved condensing this gathered qi into an unstable core within the dantian, the spiritual center located just below the navel. This process was fraught with danger, as the manual repeatedly emphasized. Lose control during a qi fluctuation the natural ebb and flow of spiritual energy and the resulting backlash could permanently damage one's spiritual veins, making future cultivation impossible.
'But the text assures readers that anyone born with functional spiritual veins should be able to gather at least a grain of qi,' Feng Xuan noted with growing excitement. 'And according to this, virtually everyone possesses some form of spiritual veins, even if they're initially too weak to support serious cultivation.'
The manual went on to describe the nine major cultivation realms in detail: Qi Gathering, Qi Refining, Qi Condensation, Qi Circulation, Qi Materialization, Heavenly Spirit, Mythic Translucence, Divine Mind, and the legendary Transcendent Omniscience. Each realm was further divided into multiple stages, and the power gap between them was described as being like the difference between a candle flame and a raging bonfire.
"Sir, your noodles are ready!" The server's enthusiastic call snapped Feng Xuan back to the physical world.
"My apologies for being distracted," he said, bowing apologetically as the server set down a steaming bowl that looked like a work of art. "I was absorbed in some important reading."
The noodles were absolutely perfect rich, complex broth that spoke of hours of careful preparation, tender pork that fell apart at the touch of his chopsticks, and an egg yolk that was still gloriously runny when he broke it open. Each bite transported him back to better times, before the harsh realities of street life had worn him down to nothing more than a desperate survivor. But rather than making him melancholy, the familiar flavors only strengthened his resolve.
As he ate, he continued reading, absorbing information about meditation techniques, breathing exercises, and the proper mental attitude required for successful cultivation. The manual stressed that cultivation was as much a mental discipline as a physical one, requiring absolute focus, unwavering determination, and the ability to remain calm in the face of potentially deadly spiritual energies.
'No matter what dangers lie ahead, I'll cultivate successfully,' he promised himself, setting down his chopsticks with new determination. 'I'll grow strong enough that no one like Tian Li can ever beat me down again. Strong enough to control my own destiny.'