I used to believe that if you worked hard enough, you could become anyone you wanted to be.
A hero.
A legend.
A man who could punch mountains and laugh in the face of gods.
But that's the thing about beliefs—they don't always survive reality.
My name's Akira Sato, age twenty-two, professional nobody.
I worked a dead-end part-time job at a convenience store in Tokyo. My coworkers called me "that weird gym guy" because, after every shift, I trained like my life depended on it.
Push-ups, squats, sprints, shadowboxing—I did them all. Not for health, not for fame, but because I wanted to be strong.
Strong like Goku.
Strong like Saitama.
Strong enough to laugh when the world fell apart.
Most people called me delusional. My ex-girlfriend said, "You live in anime, Akira. Grow up."
Maybe she was right.
But anime was the one thing that ever made me feel alive.
It was simple—hard work, courage, and never giving up. I wanted to live that way, even if reality thought I was a fool.
So I trained every day.
Rain? I trained.
Snow? I trained.
Even when my arms trembled and my lungs burned, I'd smile at the night sky and whisper,
> "One more rep. Just one more, until I reach that world."
Sometimes I wondered what people would think if they saw me like that—barefoot in the park, screaming attack names into the darkness. Probably that I'd lost it.
But deep down, I wasn't just chasing muscle or fantasy.
I was chasing freedom.
The freedom to live without fear.
The freedom to defy limits.
And yet… no matter how much I trained, I was still just Akira Sato.
Still weak. Still human.
....
Every night, I'd return to my tiny apartment, muscles aching, microwave dinner in hand, and stare at the old posters on my wall—heroes standing tall against impossible odds.
I wanted to be like them.
But some dreams aren't meant for this world.
It happened on an ordinary evening—no thunder, no prophecy, no divine light.
Just Tokyo at dusk.
I had finished my shift and was jogging home, hoodie soaked in sweat, music blasting in my ears. Another day, another self-imposed training session. "One more kilometer, then a hundred push-ups," I told myself, grinning like an idiot.
Then I saw it.
A small, shivering cat stuck in the middle of the road.
A kitten, barely old enough to walk. Its paw was caught in a drain grate, and the streetlight reflected in its terrified eyes.
Cars zoomed past, horns blaring.
People walked around it, too busy to notice.
My body moved before I could think.
I threw off my earphones and sprinted forward. "Hang on, little guy!"
The wind roared in my ears. Tires screeched. A horn screamed.
And then—white light.
...
It wasn't like in anime where time slows down. It was instant. One moment I was running, the next… silence.
I remember the sensation—like falling backward into water, soundless, weightless.
The last thing I saw was the cat limping away, free.
I smiled. Good.
And then everything faded.
---
Darkness.
No pain. No body. Just floating in an endless, soundless void.
Was this death?
It didn't feel scary. More like… peaceful.
Then a thought flickered through my mind:
> "So this is it, huh? Guess I couldn't even dodge a truck. Some protagonist I turned out to be."
I tried to laugh, but laughter needed lungs, and I didn't have those anymore.
I thought of the people I'd left behind—my parents, my old friends, that one girl who said I lived in fantasy. Maybe they were right all along.
Still, I didn't regret it. If dying meant saving a life, even a small one, it wasn't such a bad way to go.
But then, something strange happened.
From the darkness, faint whispers echoed—soft, rhythmic, like chanting. A pulse, slow and deep, rippled through the void.
Then came the light.
Golden veins spread through the darkness, spiraling into a vast circle filled with characters I couldn't read. They looked ancient, divine—symbols of power.
My mind spun. "Wait—wait a second… this looks like—"
Before I could finish, the world shattered.
And I fell.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't surrounded by angels or gods.
No pearly gates. No golden clouds.
Instead, I was lying on a cold mountain path, with mist so thick it felt alive.
The air here was… different. Heavy yet clean. When I breathed in, it was as if every cell in my body trembled with energy.
"What the hell—where am I?" I muttered, sitting up. My voice echoed strangely, like the air itself carried sound differently.
That's when I noticed — there were strange symbols floating faintly in the air, glowing for just a second before fading away. The ground pulsed with light veins that seemed to breathe like living roots.
I blinked hard, half expecting a hologram. But it wasn't technology.
This was something else. Something older.
Then I saw it — a man flying across the distant sky, riding a sword.
My jaw dropped.
That wasn't CGI.
That was real.
He disappeared into the clouds, leaving only a streak of glowing energy behind.
I froze, my mind trying to piece together the impossible.
"Okay... so either I'm dead and dreaming, or…"
I looked down at my reflection in a small pool nearby. My face was different.
Younger. Sharper. My hair slightly longer, with black streaks like ink.
Then it hit me — the realization that twisted my stomach and made me laugh at the same time.
"Wait a second… this isn't some fantasy RPG world with elves and magic. This is—"
I stood up, slowly scanning the misty peaks and towering bamboo forests.
"…a cultivation world."
I let out a short, helpless laugh.
"Of all the places I could've ended up, it had to be this kind of world."
Back on Earth, I used to watch those shows about immortals meditating under waterfalls, throwing mountains like toys, and fighting for enlightenment.
I thought it was cool. Fictional. Safe.
Now?
Now it was real.
And I wasn't some young master or chosen one.
Just a random guy reincarnated in a place where people could shatter mountains with their fists and kill you for looking at them wrong.
Still, despite the danger… I couldn't help but smile.
Because for the first time in my life, I wasn't limited by gravity or the weakness of my old body.
If this world followed the rules of qi and cultivation…
Then maybe—just maybe—
I could really become strong.
....
The wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of distant bells and chanting. A nearby village lay hidden between the misty valleys, and in that moment, I made my decision.
If fate wanted to throw me into a world of monsters and immortals—
Then I'd climb my way up, one breath of qi at a time.
Even if I had to start from the bottom.
Even if the heavens themselves stood in my way.
.....
The sun was rising when I started walking.
Mist hung over the forest like a sleeping dragon, and the sound of insects blended with the whisper of flowing streams. My clothes were torn, my stomach was empty, and I had no idea where I was going.
But the world around me… it was alive.
Every breeze carried warmth, every step I took made the ground pulse faintly beneath my feet — as if the earth itself was breathing.
After walking for what felt like hours, I saw smoke in the distance — a village.
It wasn't much. A few dozen wooden houses, a small river, people carrying water jars or chopping firewood. Kids ran around barefoot, laughing. It felt so… normal. Too normal for a world where men could fly and crush stones with their fingers.
As I approached, a few villagers noticed me.
"Who's that boy? Looks lost."
"His clothes are strange. Maybe a beggar from the city?"
I smiled awkwardly. "Uh… hi. I, uh, got lost."
They exchanged looks, clearly unconvinced. One old man stepped forward, his back bent but his eyes sharp.
"You're not from around here, are you, lad?"
"No, sir. I woke up in the forest."
He sighed. "Then you're lucky you didn't meet a spirit beast. Come, you must be starving."
He led me to a small hut where his wife served me a bowl of thin porridge. It was bland, but after hours of walking, it tasted like heaven.
As I ate, I listened to the villagers talk. They mentioned Qi, meridians, and spirit stones like everyday things. I tried to act calm, but inside I was screaming with curiosity.
Finally, I asked, "Excuse me… what is Qi?"
The old man chuckled. "What's Qi? Boy, are you joking? Qi is the breath of heaven and earth! The energy all living things absorb to strengthen themselves. Without Qi, how could cultivators exist?"
Cultivators.
The word made my heart race.
"Cultivators… you mean those people who can fly and lift stones with their mind?"
The man nodded proudly. "Aye. The mighty ones. But they're not people like us. Mortals like you and me can't even sense Qi properly, much less absorb it. You need talent, a spiritual root, and guidance from a sect. Without that, you're just… dust in the wind."
I froze.
So this was a Wuxia world, all right — and not a forgiving one.
Still, something inside me refused to accept it.
"Has anyone from this village ever become a cultivator?" I asked.
The old man's eyes softened. "Once. A hundred years ago. A boy born with a pure root. He left with a passing elder from a sect and never came back."
Silence hung for a moment.
Then I stood up, bowed slightly, and smiled. "Thank you for the food. And for the information."
The man blinked. "Where are you going?"
"To find out if I'm dust in the wind… or something else."
He laughed softly. "Boy, without a master or root, you won't even sense Qi in a hundred years."
I grinned. "Good thing I'm stubborn then."
....
I left the village and climbed the nearest hill, sitting under a giant tree. The wind carried the scent of rain and something else — faint, subtle, like invisible threads dancing in the air.
I closed my eyes.
I breathed slowly, trying to feel it — that warmth I'd sensed earlier.
Hours passed. My stomach growled. My legs cramped. My mind wandered.
But then — for a moment — I felt it.
A spark.
A thin current sliding through my veins.
It was weak, barely noticeable, but it was there.
My eyes shot open. The world around me glowed faintly.
"Qi…" I whispered, smiling.
The old man had said it would take a hundred years.
Maybe he was right for most people.
But I wasn't "most people."
I was Li Tianlan — a guy who once tried to do a thousand push-ups a day just to see if anime logic worked.
And if this world ran on Qi, then I'd learn to bend it until it obeyed me.
Even if it took a lifetime.
...
When the night came, I sat under the tree, staring at the stars.
For a moment, everything went quiet — and my mind drifted back to my old world.
Back to that cramped apartment in Japan.
It was always silent there too.
The kind of silence that hums louder than noise.
I used to live alone — a small room, cracked walls, a futon, and a mirror that saw too much. My neighbors were loud students and late-night workers. I never complained. I didn't really talk to anyone, either.
I was… normal. Maybe too normal.
Average grades, average looks, average life.
But deep down, I hated that word — average.
I remember scrolling through videos, watching stories of heroes, fighters, warriors who stood alone against the impossible. Something in me stirred every time I saw them break their limits.
So one day, I just… decided.
If the world didn't give me power, I'd make it myself.
Push-ups, squats, runs in the rain, cold showers, fasting, shouting at myself in the mirror — I did it all.
At first, it was funny. My friends laughed, called me delusional. Even I laughed.
But as time went on, I stopped laughing.
Because I realized something — when you strip away all the noise, all the comfort, all the excuses — all that's left is you.
And you either move forward or stay weak.
I trained until my knuckles bled.
I remember collapsing on the floor once, gasping, whispering, "Just a bit more."
Not because I wanted to be a hero.
Not because I wanted people to notice.
But because I was tired of being powerless.
Tired of watching others do what I couldn't.
Still, no matter how much I trained, there was a wall. The kind you can't break with muscle or willpower. The kind that reminds you you're still human.
Then… came that day.
I saw a small animal — a stray pup, trembling in the middle of the street.
And behind it, a truck.
People shouted, but no one moved.
I didn't think. I just ran.
The pain was sharp, then everything went white.
And when I opened my eyes again… I was under a sky full of unfamiliar stars.
A second life.
I thought it was some divine joke — that maybe, finally, I'd been given what I always wanted.
A world where strength was everything.
A world where hard work mattered.
And now that I'm here, I won't waste it.
I clenched my fists, feeling the faint trace of Qi pulse inside me. It was small weak, almost nothing — but it was mine.
"I don't care if this world has monsters, gods, or heaven itself…" I muttered under the stars.
"I'll climb higher than all of them."
....
The night wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint hum of distant power — cultivators training, beasts howling in the wild, the world itself alive with energy.
In that moment, I didn't feel fear.
I felt a strange peace.
Because for the first time… my dream wasn't impossible.
It was waiting.
The forest was silent when I began.
The moon hung low, veiled by drifting clouds, painting the trees in shades of silver and black. The faint hum of Qi lingered in the air, elusive — like a scent you could feel but not grasp.
I sat cross-legged beneath the same old tree, straightened my back, and closed my eyes.
In my old world, I had no teacher.
Here, I still didn't.
But if there was one thing I learned from years of training alone, it was this:
If you don't know how, you try.
If it doesn't work, you try again — smarter.
So I focused.
Breathing in slowly, letting the night air fill my lungs.
Breathing out, letting go of everything else.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, faintly — I felt it again. That tiny current, flowing through the air, brushing against my skin like invisible water. I reached for it.
The sensation was… indescribable. Like touching a thought. Like hearing something that wasn't sound. It flowed toward me — hesitant, curious — and then slipped past, vanishing.
"Come on," I muttered.
Again.
This time, I imagined the air itself as living energy. I pulled it in, guiding it into my body, down to my center — to what I assumed was my "dantian," the energy core from all the stories I'd read.
For a moment, it worked.
The energy gathered — faint but real.
Then pain exploded through me.
It felt like my veins were burning.
My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and my ears rang. I coughed, and something warm spilled from my mouth — blood.
I collapsed, gasping. My hands shook violently.
The Qi had turned wild. Instead of flowing smoothly, it rampaged like a storm inside me.
So this is cultivation?
Every breath felt like fire. My mind screamed to stop — but my body refused.
Because beneath the pain… there was something else.
A rhythm.
It hurt, but it was alive.
Every second of agony felt like the price of a door opening just a crack wider.
Finally, the storm inside me calmed. The Qi dispersed. My body went limp.
When I opened my eyes, dawn had begun to break. The world looked sharper. Colors seemed deeper.
I couldn't move much, but I smiled through the blood on my lips.
"I… did it," I whispered.
It wasn't much. I hadn't formed a Qi core or entered any stage. But I'd taken the first breath of Qi into my body — and survived.
For a mortal without talent, without guidance… that was enough.
The sun rose, and light spilled across the forest. Birds called, rivers sparkled, and the mist lifted — revealing a world vast beyond imagination.
I felt it again — that same warmth I'd felt before the truck hit me.
The quiet promise that I wasn't done yet.
I laughed softly. "So this is how it starts…"
The path to strength wasn't glowing with golden systems or convenient power-ups.
It was rough, painful, and beautiful.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
...
By the time the sun reached its peak, I could barely move.
Every muscle in my body ached from the backlash of last night's failure. My chest felt tight, and my meridians — if I even had those — felt like someone had used them as kindling.
I tore a strip from my sleeve, wiped the dried blood off my chin, and leaned against the tree.
The forest was quiet again, but somehow, it didn't feel indifferent anymore.
It was watching me.
The rustling of the leaves, the flow of the wind, even the faint tremor beneath the soil — they all pulsed in rhythm.
A rhythm that wasn't random. It was… alive.
I closed my eyes.
Last night, I forced the Qi to obey me.
This time, I'd listen.
Slow breath in.
Slow breath out.
Instead of trying to control the flow, I followed it.
Each inhale carried a whisper of warmth, each exhale a faint spark of life.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
I lost count of time.
Somewhere between those breaths, the world changed.
I could feel the grass growing. The wind shifting. Even the faint heartbeat of insects burrowed beneath the ground.
It wasn't just silence anymore — it was music.
And then, finally… Qi moved.
Not violently, not forced — it came naturally, flowing into me like water into a thirsty root. It traveled down my spine, settling into my abdomen, and spread warmth through every limb.
It didn't burn this time.
It hummed.
My vision flashed white for a second, and when I opened my eyes — I saw it.
Tiny motes of light floating in the air, like fireflies made of breath. Each one pulsing gently, fading and reappearing.
Qi.
The life of heaven and earth.
I almost laughed. "So that's what you look like…"
The motes stirred when I spoke, as if responding. They drifted closer before melting into my skin — leaving faint traces of warmth behind.
It wasn't much.
Just a thin stream of Qi circulating faintly within me.
But for a mortal with no master, no roots, no techniques — it was the beginning of everything.
I stood, stretching carefully. My body felt lighter, sharper, more aware.
The fatigue hadn't vanished, but my senses were alive.
When I focused on a tree, I could feel the flow of Qi inside it — slow, steady, ancient.
When I looked toward the river, I could sense the pulse of spiritual energy carried by the water.
Everything was connected.
"This world…" I whispered, smiling faintly, "...isn't just about strength. It's alive."
...
Then the wind shifted.
A low growl echoed in the distance — deep, resonant, and hungry.
The birds fell silent.
I froze, senses sharpening.
Something was coming.
And from the pressure alone, I could tell — it wasn't human.
The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
....
Li Tianlan crouched near a moss-covered rock, his breath shallow, eyes sweeping the endless trees that stretched into shadow. The air itself seemed heavier here, thick with something unseen. The morning mist coiled like white silk, carrying whispers of life and death alike.
He had been walking for hours — barefoot, half-dressed, and half-mad from hunger — before realizing something was terribly wrong with this world.
The silence wasn't peace.
It was warning.
A faint vibration trembled through the ground beneath his palms, subtle at first, like a heartbeat hidden under soil. Then came the sound — a low growl, deep and resonant, crawling from somewhere within the mist. It wasn't human. It wasn't even close.
Tianlan froze. His instincts screamed louder than reason.
He turned slowly.
A pair of crimson eyes gleamed from the fog.
"...You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, voice trembling. "I just got reincarnated. I haven't even eaten yet, and now— monsters?"
The thing stepped forward, paws cracking branches as it moved — a wolf, larger than any he'd ever seen on