I closed my eyes and tried to follow the steps Han Chen had described. Moonlit Stillness. Calm the mind. Regulate the breath. Become aware of the spiritual qi surrounding me. The sounds of the riverbank faded into a distant murmur, the wind rustling through the pine trees became a soft, rhythmic whisper, and the chatter of the other disciples dissolved into meaningless noise. I focused on my breath, on the slow, steady expansion and contraction of my lungs, on the cool air flowing in through my nose and out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out. I let my thoughts drift away, one by one, like leaves floating downstream. The worry about my new body. The fear of being discovered. The grief for the life I had lost and the boy whose body I had stolen. I let it all go, sinking deeper into the silence of my own mind.
Then I felt it. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth in the air around me, like standing close to a fire that had long since burned down to embers. It was subtle, so subtle that I almost missed it. But once I noticed it, I couldn't un-notice it. It was everywhere. In the air I was breathing. In the ground beneath me. In the water of the river. In the leaves of the trees. A living, breathing energy that pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of the world itself. This was qi. This was spiritual energy. It was real. It was tangible. It was beautiful.
I tried to draw it in, following the second step. Azure Inhalation. I breathed deeply, imagining the qi flowing into my body through my nose, through my skin, through every pore. But nothing happened. The warmth stayed outside, pressing against me like a wall, refusing to enter. I frowned, concentrating harder. I visualized the qi as a stream of silver light, willing it to flow into my lungs, into my blood, into my meridians. Still nothing. I pushed harder, forcing my will against the invisible barrier. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of effort, a tiny trickle of warmth seeped into my body. It was minuscule, barely a drop in an ocean. It was like trying to fill a bathtub with an eyedropper. I felt the qi enter my lungs, then struggle through my meridians, moving sluggishly, reluctantly, as if it were fighting me every step of the way. The pathways were narrow, clogged, resistant. The qi didn't flow. It crawled. It seeped. It oozed through my body like molasses, leaving a faint, tingling trail in its wake. I guided it down, past my chest, past my stomach, towards my lower dantian. The journey was exhausting, a constant battle of will against the stubborn resistance of my own body. By the time the tiny wisp of qi finally reached my dantian, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles trembling with fatigue.
I released a long, shaky sigh and opened my eyes. So this is what it means to have a Mortal-Tier Spirit Root. It had taken me ten minutes, maybe more, just to absorb that tiny amount of energy. Ten minutes of intense concentration, of pushing and forcing and fighting, for a single drop of qi. I looked down at my body, at the slender arms and pale hands that belonged to Xu Qinghe. This body was a sieve. It was a broken bucket. It could hold qi, but only barely, and only with an enormous amount of effort. I released another sigh, feeling the weight of my own inadequacy pressing down on me.
Beside me, Chen Yuxi opened her eyes and let out a soft, frustrated breath. She had been meditating too, her face serene and focused. Now, she looked tired, her brow furrowed with disappointment.
Chen Yuxi: Spending so much time absorbing so little. It's exhausting.
I couldn't help but nod.
Ethan: And mine is worse. Since I'm now at Mid Stage Qi Awakening, I should be able to absorb more, but even with the breathing art, it's like trying to drink the ocean through a straw.
She looked at me, her hazel eyes soft with understanding.
Chen Yuxi: We just have to try, right? Keep practicing. Keep pushing. Maybe one day it will get easier.
I shrugged, a small, humorless smile on my lips.
Ethan: Yeah. We just have to try.
She studied me for a moment, her head tilted slightly.
Chen Yuxi: You know, Qinghe, you seem different today. More... optimistic. I don't think I've ever heard you talk like that before. The old you would have given up by now. You would have said it was pointless.
I thought about that. The old Xu Qinghe. The boy who had been abandoned, who had spent eight years grinding away at the bottom, who had finally given up and swallowed a poison pill in a desperate bid for power. He had been broken. He had been hopeless. And I had taken his place.
Ethan: Well, when you die, or come close to it, you kind of... I don't know. How to put it. You see the better of things. Maybe that's just me.
Chen Yuxi's eyes widened, and then a gentle, knowing smile spread across her face.
Chen Yuxi: That makes sense. A brush with death can change a person. I'm glad it changed you for the better.
We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the river and the wind. Then I asked her,
Ethan: What's your goal, Chen Yuxi? Why are you here, grinding away at the bottom of the Verdant Peak?
She didn't hesitate.
Chen Yuxi: Simple. Make my family happy and rich. My parents are farmers. They work from dawn to dusk, every day, just to put food on the table. They've given me everything they have, every scrap of savings, just to send me here. I want to pay them back. I want to buy them a big house, with servants and a garden, and I want them to never have to work again. I want them to be proud of me.
I nodded slowly.
Ethan: That's... that's pretty noble.
She blushed, looking down at her hands.
Chen Yuxi: It's not noble. It's just... what family is for, isn't it? Taking care of each other.
I thought of my own family. My parents, who had slowly stopped visiting. My brother and sister, who had moved on with their lives. Adelaide, who had wished me dead.
Ethan: Yeah. That's what family is for.
She looked at me, her expression curious.
Chen Yuxi: What about you, Qinghe? What's your goal?
I paused, considering. What was my goal? To survive. To get strong enough that no one could hurt me. To never be helpless again. But those were private goals, dark and selfish. I needed something simpler, something that wouldn't raise questions.
Ethan: I think... live as well as I can. Just... live. Be healthy. Be free. Enjoy the little things.
Chen Yuxi stared at me, her eyes wide.
Chen Yuxi: Wow. You really have changed. No more chasing a certain someone?
I knew who she meant. Ji Yuehan. The girl Xu Qinghe had loved, the girl who had abandoned him. The girl who was now a Saintess candidate, destined for greatness.
Ethan: Naaah. Not really. That ship has sailed. I'm no longer interested.
She blinked, clearly surprised.
Chen Yuxi: Really? I thought... I thought you were still hung up on her. Everyone said you joined the sect just to follow her.
Ethan: I joined the sect because I had nowhere else to go. And no, I'm not hung up on her. She made her choice. She moved on. So did Pei Zhaoyu. And so will I.
Chen Yuxi smiled, a genuine, warm smile that lit up her face.
Chen Yuxi: That's good, Qinghe. That's really good. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to find your own path.
We talked for a while longer, about small things. The weather. The food. The annoying habits of the other outer disciples. It was easy, comfortable. She was kind, and she didn't push, and she didn't ask questions I couldn't answer. Eventually, we fell back into silence and returned to our cultivation.
I closed my eyes again, focusing on the breathing art. The same struggle. The same resistance. The same slow, agonizing trickle of qi. I was tracking my progress in my head, measuring the amount of qi I had managed to absorb against the total capacity of my dantian. It was a pathetic number. A drop in the bucket. I was about to give up, to open my eyes and admit defeat, when something strange happened. A flickering image appeared in my mind, a holographic display that hovered in the air before my closed eyes. It was translucent, glowing with a soft, blue light, and it showed a progress bar. The bar was at Ten percent. Twenty percent. Thirty-two percent. forty-five percent, and it was filling slowly, incrementally, as I continued to breathe.
What the hell? I thought, my concentration wavering.
The bar continued to fill. Fifty percent. Sixty. Seventy-five. Eighty-nine. Ninety-seven. One hundred.
Heavenly Training System has been activated. Welcome, host.
The voice was cold, robotic, and utterly devoid of emotion. It echoed in my mind like a bell, clear and unmistakable.
I wanted to shout. I wanted to leap to my feet and scream at the top of my lungs. OH MY GOD. I have a system. An actual system. A Heavenly Training System. This is insane. This is incredible. This is every cultivation novel I've ever read come to life. I forced myself to stay still, to keep my breathing steady, to not give anything away. But inside, I was freaking out.
Chen Yuxi: Is something wrong?
Chen Yuxi's voice cut through my internal celebration. I could hear the concern in her tone.
I opened my eyes, forcing a calm, neutral expression onto my face.
Ethan: Nothing. Just felt like I absorbed a spike in energy. It surprised me.
She looked at me, her brow furrowed.
Chen Yuxi: A spike? That's unusual. Are you okay?
Ethan: Yeah. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. I think I'm getting the hang of this.
She smiled, relieved.
Chen Yuxi: That's good. Keep at it. I'll be here if you need me.
I closed my eyes again, but this time, I wasn't meditating. I was talking to the voice in my head. You're my system, I thought, my mental voice trembling with excitement. Thank God. Heavenly Training System, right?
That is what I said.
It replied, its voice still cold and robotic. It sounded like a text-to-speech program, flat and emotionless.
Sheesh, I thought. What a system. No personality at all. Okay. Okay. Show my stats.
The holographic display flickered back to life, expanding to fill my field of vision. The text was crisp, clear, and written in a glowing, elegant font.
HEAVENLY TRAINING SYSTEM
HOST STATUS — INITIAL ANALYSIS
IDENTITY
Current Body: Xu Qinghe
Original Soul: Ethan Carter
Affiliation: Azure Moon Sect
Position: Outer Disciple
CULTIVATION PROFILE
Cultivation Realm: Qi Awakening
Current Stage: Mid Stage
Spiritual Root: Mortal-Tier
Elemental Affinity: Water
Root Condition: Low Innate Aptitude
TECHNIQUE REGISTER
Azure Moon Breathing Art — Mortal Grade · Basic Mastery
Azure Moon Sword Art (4 Forms) — Mortal Grade · Beginner Mastery
SYSTEM FUNCTIONS
Technique Analysis — Detect errors and weaknesses in learned techniques.
Training Optimization — Provide targeted exercises and corrections.
Technique Synthesis — Explore compatible techniques for potential fusion after sufficient mastery.
INITIAL SYSTEM ASSESSMENT
Host possesses low innate cultivation aptitude. Current techniques contain correctable execution flaws. Significant improvement is possible through disciplined training and continuous refinement.
RECOMMENDATION: Begin foundational training analysis.
SYSTEM NOTICE: Innate spiritual root cannot be altered through ordinary training optimization.
I stared at the display, my excitement slowly curdling into something colder. Low innate aptitude. Mortal-Tier Spirit Root. The system notice was the worst part. Innate spiritual root cannot be altered through ordinary training optimization. So I was stuck. I was permanently handicapped. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how much I optimized, I would always be limited by the body I had been given. The body I had stolen. The hope that had flared in my chest just moments ago began to dim.
Wow, I thought, the word heavy with bitterness. Seeing my stats all in my face really makes me feel hopeless. Especially the system notice. And my aptitude. It's like a slap in the face.
The system's response was immediate, its cold, robotic voice echoing in my mind.
Host's emotional response is noted but irrelevant. Current aptitude is low. This is a factual assessment, not a judgment. Optimization of existing techniques can yield significant improvements despite innate limitations. Recommend proceeding with training analysis.
I let out a mental sigh. Okay. That felt good. A bit. You're not exactly a motivational speaker, are you?
I am a training system. Motivational speaking is not within my parameters.
Fair enough. I began practicing again, resuming the Azure Moon Breathing Art. The same slow, agonizing process. The same stubborn resistance. But this time, I wasn't alone. The system was watching. Analyzing. I could feel its presence in the back of my mind, a cold, calculating observer. Then, a new message appeared in my mind's eye.
Beginning analysis of Azure Moon Breathing Art. Please continue cultivation.
I ignored it and kept practicing, drawing in another tiny wisp of qi. The system was silent for a long moment. Then it spoke again.
Analysis complete. Several issues and inconsistencies have been identified within the technique.
How many? I asked, my curiosity piqued.
The technique contains twelve structural inefficiencies, seven circulation errors, and three fundamental design flaws. These issues are not unique to the host's execution. They are inherent to the technique itself. The Azure Moon Breathing Art was designed for mass distribution, not for individual optimization. It is a generic template, not a personalized cultivation method.
I was stunned. Twelve inefficiencies? Seven errors? Three fundamental flaws? This was the technique that every outer disciple in the sect used. This was the technique that had been passed down for generations. And the system was saying it was flawed?
The system began analyzing again, its presence in my mind intensifying. I could feel it probing my meridians, tracing the pathways of my qi, examining every detail of my cultivation. It was a strange sensation, like being dissected by a cold, precise scalpel. Then, after what felt like an eternity, it was done.
Analysis complete. A refined version of the Azure Moon Breathing Art has been synthesized. Designation: Refined Azure Moon Breathing Art. This version is forty-five percent more efficient and effective than the original. It can be passively active, meaning the host will continue to absorb and circulate qi even when not actively meditating. Estimated learning time: three days of dedicated practice. New grade: Quasi-Spirit Grade. The following is a detailed breakdown of the improvements.
A new display appeared in my mind, a list of benefits and enhancements, written in that same glowing, elegant font.
REFINED AZURE MOON BREATHING ART — QUASI-SPIRIT GRADE
PASSIVE CULTIVATION: The technique maintains a low-level cycle of absorption and circulation at all times, even during sleep, eating, or other activities. This results in a constant, gradual accumulation of qi, equivalent to approximately ten percent of active meditation time.
IMPROVED ABSORPTION EFFICIENCY: The refined breathing pattern creates a subtle vortex effect, drawing in ambient qi more effectively. Absorption rate increased by forty-five percent.
OPTIMIZED MERIDIAN PATHWAYS: The circulation route has been adjusted to bypass common blockages and reduce resistance. Qi flow is smoother and faster. Risk of meridian strain is reduced by sixty percent.
ENHANCED DANTIAN CONDENSATION: The refined technique includes a compression cycle that condenses qi more densely within the lower dantian. Storage capacity effectively increased by thirty percent.
REDUCED CULTIVATION TIME: Due to improved efficiency and passive accumulation, the time required to advance through the Qi Awakening stages is reduced by approximately forty percent.
I stared at the list, my mind reeling. This was insane. This was completely, utterly insane. Forty-five percent more efficient. Passive cultivation. Reduced cultivation time. This was the kind of cheat that protagonists in novels got. This was the kind of advantage that could let a trash-tier disciple compete with geniuses. I thought about the implications. If I could refine the breathing art, what else could I refine? The sword art? Other techniques? Could I synthesize new techniques entirely? Could I overcome the limitations of my Mortal-Tier Spirit Root? The system said my root couldn't be altered through ordinary training optimization. But what about extraordinary optimization? What about synthesis? What about things I hadn't even thought of yet? My mind raced with possibilities.
I asked the system in my head, my mental voice trembling with a mixture of awe and greed. How... how come such a new technique can be forged from an old one? This is incredible. This is game-changing.
The system's response was immediate, its cold, robotic voice taking on a slightly didactic tone, as if it were explaining something to a child.
The Azure Moon Breathing Art was created for basic use. It was designed to be simple, safe, and universally applicable. It was never intended to be optimal. It was a tool for the masses, a starting point, not a masterpiece. The original creators prioritized accessibility over efficiency. They wanted a technique that even the weakest disciple could learn without injuring themselves. As a result, they left enormous room for improvement. My analysis identified the flaws and inefficiencies that were inherent to this design philosophy. I then synthesized a refined version that corrects those flaws. The improvements are not magical. They are the result of precise mathematical optimization, biomechanical analysis, and energetic flow modeling. The original technique was a blunt instrument. The refined version is a scalpel. It is still a Mortal-Grade technique at its core, but it has been elevated to the peak of what is possible within that grade. The Quasi-Spirit Grade designation reflects its enhanced efficiency, which borders on the next tier. In simpler terms, host, I took a cheap, mass-produced tool and turned it into a custom-made, high-performance instrument. The original creators could have done this themselves, but they had no incentive to. They were not trying to create the best technique. They were trying to create the most convenient one.
I absorbed this explanation, my mind spinning. So the system wasn't just a cheat. It was an optimizer. It took what was there and made it better. It didn't create miracles out of nothing. It refined, improved, and synthesized. That was its function. That was its power. And it was my power now. I felt a grin spread across my face, a wide, uncontrollable grin of pure, unadulterated joy. I had a system. I had a real, actual, functioning system. And it was going to help me survive this world. I opened my eyes, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. Chen Yuxi was still meditating beside me, her face serene and focused. Li Wei and Zhao Rui were sparring nearby, their movements clumsy but enthusiastic. The river gurgled peacefully, the wind rustled through the trees, and the world was beautiful and full of possibility. I took a deep breath, feeling the faint, passive hum of the refined breathing art already beginning to work, drawing in tiny wisps of qi even as I sat there. I was still weak. I was still a Mortal-Tier disciple with a low aptitude. But I had a system. And I had a plan. And I was not going to waste this second chance.
Li Wei: Hey, Qinghe! You want to grab some dinner? I'm starving!
I stood up, brushing the grass from my robes.
Ethan: Yeah. Let's go. I could eat a horse.
Li Wei laughed.
Li Wei: A horse? You? You barely eat anything. You're like a bird.
Ethan: Things change.