Liang Chen woke before dawn, the city still wrapped in the soft haze of night. Today, he had a new goal: testing the faint pulse of energy in his body beyond simple meditation or physical activity. He needed to see if he could direct it consciously, even if only in small bursts.
He stepped into the small courtyard behind his apartment, empty except for a few stray cats and a stack of bricks he had set up as makeshift training dummies. His palms tingled faintly as he focused, the ember in his dantian stirring warmly.
He lifted a brick with his hands. Normally, it would have been heavy for practice, but with the flow of energy coursing subtly through his muscles, the weight felt lighter, easier to control. His movements were precise, almost effortless.
Focus. Control. Discipline.
He experimented with directing the energy through his limbs. A punch sent toward a brick broke it cleanly, more from technique than force, but the subtle energy enhanced the impact. A kick, carefully aimed, sent another brick skidding across the ground.
Each motion, each strike, felt like a whisper of power he had not yet fully mastered.
After hours of repetition, sweat dripping from his brow, he finally stepped back. His muscles ached pleasantly, and his pulse thrummed with the warm glow of energy flowing freely through his body.
It was minor, but it was proof — proof that his rebirth was not wasted, proof that the slow steps he had been taking were beginning to bear fruit.
Returning to school later, Liang Chen moved with a subtle difference. His steps were lighter, his reflexes quicker. In class, he noticed small details others would miss: the jitter of a student about to spill ink, the faint rustle of a falling leaf outside, the quiet hum of a ceiling fan above.
His senses had sharpened in a way that made him feel more alive, more connected to the world.
After school, he delivered pills as usual, earning enough money for the next batch of ingredients. Then he stopped by the girl's house to help with some errands. Carrying groceries, organizing shelves, giving small advice on minor tasks — all simple acts, yet each strengthened the discipline and patience he cultivated inside.
That evening, he returned to his courtyard, staring at the bricks that had once seemed so ordinary. He clenched his fists and focused.
The ember in his dantian pulsed warmly, spreading energy to his arms and legs. A punch that had once barely dented the brick now cracked it cleanly, the subtle energy enhancing his speed and strength.
He smiled faintly. Not a full breakthrough. Not yet. But the first steps of power, and they are mine.
Night descended, and Liang Chen sat at the window, looking at the city lights stretching endlessly before him. He flexed his fingers, feeling the subtle pulse of energy within.
Each day, each pill, each act of kindness, each small experiment — all were pieces of a larger puzzle.
He had been given a second chance. And this time, he would not waste it.
Chapter Ending Quote:
"The first trial is always small, but it teaches the greatest lesson: power begins with control, patience, and belief in oneself."