Chapter 12
I looked over at the small, cat-like creature. Now it lay there, unmoving.
I felt… bad. Its body was peaceful in death. Calm and quiet. But I shoved that feeling down. It had attacked me with the intent to kill. I just matched it.
As I watched, the air around its striped body shimmered faintly. A strange golden light drifted from its fur—tiny flakes of glowing dust rising like embers before slowly floating toward me. They landed on my skin, warm and featherlight, and immediately began to sink in.
I flinched, trying to brush them off, but they just kept disappearing into my skin the moment I touched them. A cold chill ran up my spine, followed by a strange calm that spread through my limbs. It felt… good. Soothing.
Once the last of the flakes had faded, a soft ding echoed in my ears, and glowing words slid across my vision.
Enemy defeated
Excess Qi consumed
The text vanished, only to be replaced by more.
Quest Generated
Reach Qi Refinement Stage
Reward: Meridian Restructure
Before I could process what any of that meant, a weak voice broke the silence.
"Y–Young master… th-thank you for this kindness. Are you injured?"
I sat up slowly, turning to the speaker.
His words sounded off in my ears, foreign, like something I'd never heard before but somehow I understood him perfectly. That only made this whole thing weirder.
He noticed my gaze and immediately averted his eyes.
I scanned him over. No blood, no deep wounds, but he was clutching his leg awkwardly. Sweat ran down his face and matted the dark hair pulled back behind his head. His nose was slightly too large for his face, and his strange robes were torn and dirtied.
"I'm good," I said, voice rough. The words came out in that same strange language and again, I understood them. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could write off as a last hallucination before I finally died.
I nodded at him. "What about you? You okay?"
He risked a glance upward, curiosity flashing in his eyes for just a moment before it was quickly replaced by something else.
"This lowly one is only slightly injured. No need for someone as great as you to worry," he stammered.
That way of talking was getting on my nerves. But the guy had almost been eaten, so I let it slide.
"What's your name?" I asked, standing and brushing dirt off my ruined clothes.
He blinked, then bowed his head again. "This one is called Wei Lin."
"Well, Wei Lin, where exactly am I?" I asked, scanning the forest.
He looked confused. "This is the outer edge of Yu Province, young master. Just north of Fallen Mist Town. Were you attacked while traveling from the sect?"
Sect? Province? That didn't answer anything, but I didn't want to sound like a lunatic. "Right… the sect."
His brows furrowed. "Forgive me, but… might I ask what sect young master hails from?"
I paused, the question catching me off guard. My brain scrambled for an answer, but I didn't have one. So I went with the safest response I could think of.
"I'm just a wanderer. I'm actually not from around here."
Wei Lin's expression froze, the confusion returning. "Not… from here?"
I shrugged. "Long story."
He hesitated again but didn't push it. "I see… then, perhaps… would young master consider accompanying this one back to Fallen Mist Town? It is not far, and… after your gracious assistance, it would be an honor to offer hospitality."
He spoke with such weird formality that it made my skin itch, but I wasn't about to turn down a chance at finding civilization. Or answers.
"Sure," I said. "Lead the way."
Wei Lin tried to stand and winced. I stepped forward and helped him up without a word.
We started walking through the forest together—him limping, me still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
As we walked, I noticed Wei Lin kept glancing at me. Quick looks, eyes flicking away the moment I caught him. It went on for long enough that it started to grate on me.
Finally, I broke the silence. "What is it?"
He lowered his gaze instantly, but I didn't let it go.
"Speak. Don't feel like you can't speak your mind to me."
He hesitated, then slowly raised his head. Doubt was written all over his face. Whatever was on his mind clearly wasn't easy to say but it also wasn't my problem.
Still, after a few seconds, he seemed to come to a decision and gave a small nod to himself.
"It's just that you… you look strange."
His eyes widened immediately, and he rushed to correct himself. "Forgive me, young master! That wasn't my place—"
I let out a small laugh, raising an eyebrow. "That's what your problem was?"
He looked away, flustered. I kept going. "Like I said, I'm from somewhere else. And I'm starting to realise it's a lot farther than I thought."
I gave him a look. "Also, drop the 'young master' stuff. My name's Ethan. Ethan Ward. If you have to be formal, use that."
Another strange look crossed his face, but this one softened into a smile. A genuine one. There was a small gap between his front teeth that I tried very hard not to stare at.
"I understand," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank you, Fang Wu. I won't ask any more questions about your strange looks or your strange clothes."
I blinked. "That's the one but it's Ethan Ward. Not Fang Wu."
He laughed, a light chuckle under his breath. "Of course, of course. I don't know why you keep repeating your name."
I stopped walking and stared at him. "Ethan. It's Ethan. Not whatever you're saying."
He gave me a puzzled look, genuine confusion on his face. "Yes, that's what I'm saying…"
We just… stared at each other for a moment. I was seriously starting to wonder if he'd hit his head harder than I thought. The moment stretched on, awkward and uncomfortable.
Eventually, we both started walking again, silent except for the rustling leaves beneath our feet.
What the hell was going on?
As the sun dipped low behind the treetops, casting long shadows across the forest floor, we finally broke through the tree line. I came to a slow stop.
Spread out ahead of us was what I could only describe as a large medieval town. Stone houses with thatched straw roofs were scattered across the gentle hills, surrounded by open paddocks and narrow irrigation canals. In the distance, rows of stepped fields stretched out in tidy lines. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of rural China. Or Bali. Not that I'd ever actually been to either.
Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys. The smell of woodfires and something earthy hung in the air. The place looked… peaceful. At odds with everything I'd just gone through.
Wei Lin stepped up beside me, following my gaze with a small, tired smile.
"That's Fallen Mist," he said. "It's not much, but we have good people and strong soil."
"Where the hell am I," I mumbled under my breath.
"It's under the protection of the Fallen Mist Sect," he continued, "They oversee most of the region and keep the worst of the bandits and beasts at bay. In return, we offer a portion of our harvest and whatever manual labor they require."
He looked at me, as if trying to gauge my reaction. I just nodded, taking it all in.
"Sect?" I asked after a moment.
Wei Lin blinked, then quickly looked away. "Ah, of course. I forget how far you've traveled."
He cleared his throat. "Sects are… powerful groups I guess. Families, schools, lineages—depends on who you ask. They're made up of cultivators. Some are small, like Fallen Mist. Others are massive, running entire provinces."
That actually answered more than I expected. I nodded again.
"So… you're not part of one?" I asked.
He gave a short laugh. "Me? No. I'm a farmer. They wouldn't look at someone like me twice."
His expression darkened and I glimpsed underlined sadness but didn't press it.
We began walking again, following a well-worn dirt path that led down toward the town. The faint glow of lanterns flickered to life as the sky darkened into a deeper blue.
"I'll take you to my home," Wei Lin offered quietly. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."
I didn't argue. My legs were sore, my ribs still ached from the fight, and the idea of sleeping outside another night didn't sit well.
And, more than that I needed information. About this place. About cultivation. About what the hell was going on.
"Thanks," I said simply. "I appreciate it."
He glanced at me and smiled again. "Of course, Fang Wu."
I sighed.
Close enough.
Chapter 13
I followed Wei Lin along one of the raised paths through the paddies. We didn't speak much—neither of us really needed to. My thoughts were still a mess, too jumbled to sort through.
Eventually, we veered off from the main road and came to a small house set apart from the others. It was simple: one level, a sloped roof, and a sagging wooden fence. A vegetable garden stretched along one side, and bundles of drying herbs hung from strings along the porch. The place smelled like soil, water, and something faintly medicinal.
"This is my home," Wei Lin said, stepping onto the porch and pushing the door open.
Inside, the house was humble. A single room divided by hanging cloth, a hearth in the corner, shelves lined with clay jars and old tools. It felt lived-in. Quiet.
A soft cough came from behind the curtain.
"My mother," Wei Lin explained. "She's been unwell for a long time. That's why I was in the forest… looking for herbs." He hesitated. "Thank you again. If you hadn't come when you did…"
I gave him a small nod. I didn't have anything smart to say.
He pulled the curtain aside and disappeared into the back half of the house. I stayed where I was, not sure if I should follow.
"She's asleep," he called after a moment. "But I think she'll be glad to know someone helped her useless son get home in one piece."
He stepped out again and gestured toward a woven mat on the floor.
"You can rest here tonight, if you want. We don't have much, but the roof holds out the rain and the rice is usually fresh."
I sat down slowly, grateful for anything that wasn't grass or stone.
Through the small window, I could see the last of the sun dipping behind the hills.
Wherever I was… this was my reality now.
That night, we sat up talking. The flickering fire threw long shadows across the walls, and outside, the quiet hum of insects filled the silence between our words. At first, Wei Lin spoke like I was someone important—some noble's stray son. But the more we talked, the more that formality faded.
It helped when I admitted I had no idea what a "cultivation realm" was.
After that, he laughed a bit more easily. His posture eased. He even started teasing me every time I flinched at the creaking roof.
At some point, he stood and rummaged through a wooden chest in the corner. He came back with a folded set of robes. They were faded and threadbare, one sleeve patched with mismatched cloth, but still miles better than the blood-crusted rags I wore.
"They're not much," he said, handing them to me. "But at least people won't think you crawled out of a grave."
I gave him a half-smile and took them. "Honestly? Not far off."
He chuckled and sat back down, slower this time. I noticed again how he kept weight off his right leg.
"You hurt that in the forest?" I asked.
Wei Lin shook his head, eyes going distant. "Old injury. Beast wave years back. Got caught in a collapse—crushed the muscle. I think it healed wrong. Most days it's fine. But when the weather shifts, or I push too hard…"
There was bitterness in his tone, but he didn't dwell on it. I felt sorry for him, sure—but sympathy was hard to summon when I was still trying to process my own situation.
We sat in silence for a while, just watching the fire.
Then, as he refilled his cup with hot water from the hearth, he glanced over.
"I could use help," he said, voice light but hopeful. "With the farm. It's not much—just rice and vegetables—but with my leg, I can't manage it all. At least not until the swelling goes down."
I nodded, already seeing where this was going.
"I can't offer coin," he added, "but there's food, and you're welcome to stay as long as you need. Not much else to give."
Honestly, it was the best offer I'd had in a while.
I glanced around the little home. It wasn't much, but it was safe. A place to breathe. To figure things out.
I nodded. "Deal."
He smiled, visibly relieved. "We start early."
I gave a tired laugh. "Of course we do."
Later, once Wei Lin had gone to bed and I was left with a thin mat by the hearth, I found myself staring up at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come. Every time I closed my eyes, the memories rushed in—undead snarls, the weight of stone, Alex's final moments.
I couldn't shut it off.
Today had been one of the hardest days of my life. Not because of anything I fought, but because of what I kept buried.
I'd been doing it since I woke up—focusing on food, shelter, survival. Avoiding the bigger questions.
But now, in this quiet house, with the fire fading and the soft rustle of rice stalks outside… it finally caught up to me.
This was real.
I wasn't still lying under rubble. I hadn't imagined any of it.
Somehow, I'd survived.
And if I wanted to keep surviving, I had to stop pretending this was temporary.
No more waiting for things to go back to normal.
I took a long breath and forced myself upright. My body still ached, but I was getting used to that.
"Alright," I muttered to no one.
I focused inward, reaching for that strange sensation I'd felt before. That thread of power tied to the system—like a switch I hadn't realized existed until now.
And with just a flick of intent, the system responded.
A soft chime echoed in my ears, and words formed across my vision once more.
Status
Name: Ethan Ward
Cultivation: Mortal – 1/10
Titles:
• Diligence's Chosen
• Otherworlder
Skills:
• Last Stand
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 15
Spirit: 11
I stared at the floating text, eyes fixed on it for what felt like minutes. This time, I wasn't skimming. I was finally paying attention. And there were changes—small ones, but changes nonetheless.
For one, my cultivation now had a number. 1/10. A progress bar? A level tracker? It hadn't been there before. I could only assume it was tied to that energy—the golden flakes that had sunk into my skin after killing the beast. Qi, the system had called it.
That alone raised a dozen new questions.
Was that how cultivation worked? Kill something, absorb Qi, level up? Or was it more complicated? It probably was. Things never stayed simple.
Either way, I needed more of it.
My eyes shifted to the stats. Strength, Agility, Constitution—unchanged. But Spirit?
That had gone up.
I still wasn't sure what Spirit actually governed. Mental resilience? Focus? Something else entirely? Whatever it was, something I'd done—surviving the collapse, absorbing Qi, maybe both—had nudged it higher.
Progress, however small.
Then there were the titles.
I skipped Diligence's Chosen. That one could wait. Maybe.
Instead, I focused on the second.
Otherworlder
You have traveled between worlds.
I read it once. Then again.
And again.
The words didn't change. They just hovered there, cold and absolute.
Traveled between worlds.
I let my gaze drift from the screen to the room around me—the wooden walls, the flickering fire, the crude tools hanging by the door. The faint scent of rice fields drifting in through the open window.
This wasn't a dream.
It wasn't a coma. It wasn't some twisted afterlife.
I wasn't on Earth anymore.
The realization hit like a hammer to the chest. Cold. Final. A weight I hadn't let settle until now.
The clues had been there. The language I understood but didn't recognize. The robes. The medieval village. The system. The fox offering me berries in trade should've been the last red flag.
But I hadn't let it sink in.
Not until now.
I was in another world.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
And I was alone.
I took a breath. Held it. Let it out slow.
Panic wouldn't help. Denial wouldn't help. Thinking too hard wouldn't help either.
So I pushed it all down.
Not away—just… down. Filed it somewhere deep, where it wouldn't burn through me.
I wasn't getting home by sitting here.
If I wanted answers, I had to earn them. I had to learn what this world was, how it worked, and what the hell I was supposed to do next.
The system responded.
Quest Generated
Objective: Reach Qi Refinement Stage
Reward: Meridian Restructure
I had no idea what that meant.
But it sounded like progress.
And right now, progress was the only thing I could hold onto.
Chapter 14
Surprisingly, when I woke the next morning, I didn't feel the usual weight pressing down on my chest. Accepting what had happened had helped. For the first time since the rift, my thoughts weren't just noise. I had a direction now.
Find out more about cultivation. Test my stats. Complete the quest. Figure out what the system can really do. And maybe—just maybe—find a way home.
The room was quiet. I pushed off the thin mat and stretched, sore muscles pulling tight but not painfully so. Somehow, the sleep had helped more than I expected.
Wei Lin was already up, kneeling beside his mother. He dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth, speaking in a voice too soft to catch. The look on his face told me everything. I gave them space and stepped outside.
The early morning air was cool against my skin. The sun hung low behind the trees, casting long shadows over the rice paddies. Everything was bathed in gold, like the world hadn't quite decided whether to wake up yet.
I turned at the sound of footsteps.
Wei Lin joined me with a tired smile. He still favored his bad leg, the limp more noticeable with each step, but he didn't mention it. Just handed me a worn straw hat and gestured toward the fields.
"Come," he said. "If you're going to help, you need to learn."
We started simple. How to walk between the rows without stepping into the water, how to check the rice stalks, how to use a dull blade to clear invasive grasses.
"Hold here," he said, adjusting my grip on the wooden handle of the sickle. "You want clean cuts, or the roots stay and come back stronger."
I nodded, repeated the motion. He grunted in approval.
Something about using my hands—doing something so straightforward—helped. It gave me space to think without being drowned in thought.
"Why live so far out from the village?" I asked during a break. He handed me a gourd of water.
"My father's father settled here. Been passed down since." He wiped sweat from his brow.
"What's the town like?"
He shrugged. "Small. Not that I've seen anything bigger. It's got what you need. But most folks think I'm strange for staying out here. Especially after…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I prefer the quiet."
I didn't push.
Instead, I looked out over the fields, at the small house behind us, at the curl of smoke rising from the cooking fire.
The next few days passed in a blur of quiet labor.
Working the fields turned out to be easier than I expected. Monotonous, sure, but not difficult. The rhythm helped—the rustle of wind over rice, the splash of boots in muddy water, the occasional chatter with Wei Lin. The bruises from the bobcat faded, replaced by a steady ache in muscles unused to this kind of work.
By the third day, I felt mostly back to normal. Or… as normal as I could be, all things considered.
That morning, as I stacked bundles of cut stalks beside the paddies, Wei Lin straightened with a grunt, rubbing at his leg.
"We need to head into town," he said. "Out of salt and Ma's medicine. And we'll need more rice seed before the next rotation."
I perked up.
Fallen Mist was just a name so far—something I'd heard about but hadn't seen beyond a blur on the horizon. "Sounds good," I said, brushing mud from my sleeves. "Lead the way."
It was about a ten-minute walk along a worn dirt path, winding between farmland, groves of old trees, and the occasional ox-drawn cart. Wei Lin nodded to everyone we passed, exchanging polite greetings. Most looked at me with a mix of curiosity and caution, but no one said anything.
Then the village came into view.
Fallen Mist wasn't big, but it looked cozy. Dozens of squat stone houses with thatched roofs lined both sides of a wide, dusty road. Children chased each other between buildings with reeds and sticks. Older villagers worked stalls, repaired wagons, or moved about with baskets slung over their shoulders.
To the left, I saw an herbalist shop with bundles of drying roots hanging from its awning.
Further ahead stood a larger building, slightly elevated on carved stone steps.
"That's the sect hall," Wei Lin said, noticing where I was looking. "The Fallen Mist Sect has a small outpost here. They oversee things. Keep order. Collect taxes."
I raised an eyebrow. "They strong?"
"Compared to normal folk?" He nodded. "Plenty. But this is just a rural branch. The real power's further inland, closer to the Whispering Basin."
I took that in quietly as we walked deeper into the village. "What's that supposed to be?"
Wei Lin glanced at me. "Sorry, I forgot. The Whispering Basin's where all the cultivators gather—far from us mortal folk."
We kept walking.
It felt strange, moving through a crowd of people who had no idea what a rift was. None of them knew Earth even existed. And yet… here they were, going about their lives like I was the one who didn't belong.
I guess I was.
Still, the air smelled like fresh bread, smoke, and faint incense. The wind was warm. And for a moment, I was happy.
We followed the street, Wei Lin nodding to a few people as we passed. A couple of young women waved shyly in his direction, clearly flustered. I gave him a look. He really wasn't all that.
He noticed and grinned. "It's not all about the looks, Brother Fang." He raised his eyebrows like an idiot.
I let out a short laugh. "Clearly."
We reached the general store. Wei Lin stepped inside first. The old woman behind the counter barely looked up before launching into what sounded like a well-practiced routine. They bartered—sort of—but it was obvious they knew each other. Most of it was friendly banter.
After picking up a few essentials, we made the rounds. One stop took us to a herbalist squeezed between two buildings that looked ready to collapse.
Inside, Wei Lin emptied his pouch onto the counter. The woman behind it counted the coins, then handed him a small packet wrapped in paper.
"This'll last a week," she said, voice flat. "No more credit, Wei Lin."
"I understand," he said, bowing his head.
Back on the road, he let out a heavy sigh and adjusted the strap on his bag.
"That was the last of it," he muttered. "Everything I had."
I glanced over. "The medicine?"
He nodded. "For my mother. Her coughing's worse again."
We fell into step, following the dirt path toward the village gate—where a low murmur cut through the usual quiet.
A small crowd had gathered near the entrance. Voices hushed, faces tight with shock and anger. A few even looked… entertained. Like they were watching a show.
Wei Lin sighed. "Damn it. We have to go out that way, too."
We edged around the crowd. People shifted just enough to let us see.
A man stood tall in the center of a loose half-circle. He wore black and silver robes that shimmered faintly in the sun, embroidered with the symbol of a lotus twisted into a spiral—the same one I'd seen on banners around town. His face was sharp, his expression smug.
Blood dripped from his knuckles.
He pulled a white cloth from his robes and wiped them slowly, deliberately. The red spread fast, but he didn't seem to care.
At his feet lay an old man, crumpled and unmoving. A vendor, judging by the overturned cart and scattered vegetables. His face was a swollen mess. One arm was twisted at a sickening angle.
I stepped forward, heat rising in my chest.
Then the cultivator spoke.
"Let this be a lesson," he said, voice clear and cold. "Mortals should know their place. The Fallen Mist Sect protects this village. You sleep safely in your beds because we allow it."
He looked down at the old man, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And yet you dare speak back? Next time, I won't be so lenient."
I clenched my fists. Took another step.
Wei Lin grabbed my arm.
"Don't," he whispered. "Are you mad?"
I turned to him. "He nearly killed that man."
"And he could kill you," Wei Lin said, his voice low and sharp. "Just for talking back. That's a cultivator. You raise your voice, you die."
I bit down hard. My jaw ached, but I didn't move. Even though I really, really wanted to.
The cultivator turned on his heel and walked off, his robe fluttering behind him. The crowd parted silently, heads bowed, eyes averted. No one helped the old man.
Not until the cultivator disappeared down the road toward the mountain.
Then, slowly, a few villagers stepped forward. One crouched beside the vendor, checking if he was still breathing.
Wei Lin tugged at my sleeve.
We walked home in silence.
I didn't say a word.
All I could think, was still. I'm to powerless.
Chapter 15
A few more days passed, most of them quiet. I kept to myself. Wei Lin tried to make small talk now and then, but I wasn't in the mood. Too much on my mind.
Back on Earth, I'd seen things like what happened at the gate. Hunters abusing their power, throwing their weight around because they could. I hated it then. I still hated it now.
The only difference? Maybe—just maybe—I had a chance to actually do something about it here.
I'd been asking questions when I could, piecing together whatever scraps of knowledge Wei Lin was willing—or able—to share. Apparently, people here cultivated something called Qi. It sounded a bit like awakening back home. You needed the right conditions, some kind of talent, maybe even a spark of luck.
But the power gap seemed way bigger.
Here, cultivators weren't just strong. They were on another level entirely. The difference between mortals and them was like comparing a D rank Hunter to ten S Rankers.
That divide did come with one upside. Cultivators mostly kept to themselves. They lived in a separate world they called Murim. A society within a society. You might see one now and then, usually an outer sect disciple acting as the go-between, but otherwise they stayed out of reach.
I'd also asked Wei Lin about the system. He'd never heard of anything like it. No screens, no stats, no titles. Just cultivation, hard work, and prayer if things went badly. The more I listened, the more it became clear—I was the outlier. Whatever I had wasn't normal.
Another thing to file away. And something I'd need to keep a very close eye on.
It was time to explore the system, figure out how to cultivate, and maybe, just maybe, find a way home. As much as I'd appreciated the break the farm offered, I couldn't stay here forever. The next step was clear: I needed more of that golden energy. And that meant heading back into the forest.
So I sat on my bed, Wei Lin and his mother in the opposite room. I still had yet to lay eyes on her but judging by the sounds coming from in there, she wasn't in a good way.
I nodded my head as though to reaffirm my decision to myself. I'd go to the forest in the morning.
The forest looked different now.
Maybe it was the light, or the way the wind moved through the branches, or maybe it was just me. Last time I came through here, I'd been lost and I was man enough to admit, a little scared. But now I had something to aim for. Not a full plan. Just a direction.
I needed more of that golden energy. The Qi.
And unless it grew in town between bags of rice, the forest was my only option.
I left just after dawn with a short-handled billhook strapped to my belt—something Wei Lin used for cutting firewood. The curved blade was chipped and dull in places, but it was better than nothing. I told him I was going out to collect kindling. He didn't ask questions. Just warned me not to stray past the ridge.
"Wind moves funny over there," he said. Then he handed me a rice ball wrapped in cloth like I was going on a day trip.
I stuck to the same path as before. The narrow one that wound between mossy tree trunks and half-flooded roots. I moved slow, eyes scanning the undergrowth, trying not to make too much noise.
The thing was, I had no idea what I was actually looking for. Last time, I had rushed through chasing after the screams.
So I followed the memory. Not the trail. Just the feeling.
The forest was quieter than usual. No squirrel chatter, no rustling in the brush. Just the steady creak of the trees and the distant chirp of birds too high to worry about what was happening below.
About twenty minutes in, I found the first clue. Deep claw marks on a tree trunk. Too clean to be from anything small, too high for a boar. I paused, brushing my hand over the grooves. They were deep and screamed of danger.
I should've turned back.
I didn't.
The undergrowth grew thicker the deeper I went. Eventually, I found myself at the edge of a shallow ravine, the slope gentle but slick from the morning frost. That's when I felt it—something in the air, like the pressure before a storm. Not visible, not even clear, but there.
I crouched low, easing my way down the incline. The scent hit first—musk, damp leaves, blood that had dried days ago.
Then I saw it.
Same kind of creature. Feline shape, lean muscle under sleek black fur. Eyes like polished stone. But this one was bigger than the last, and it didn't look hungry.
It looked territorial.
It was crouched beside a half-picked carcass, the remains of some smaller beast half-hidden under its paws. Its tail flicked lazily. Its ears twitched.
I didn't move.
The billhook sat cold and solid in my hand. Useless, probably, if this turned into a real fight. But it gave me something to hold onto. Something to pretend I could control.
The beast sniffed once, then raised its head.
Our eyes met.
And that was it.
The muscles under its fur tensed. Its shoulders shifted, low and slow.
I rose just enough to shift my stance, weight centered, blade angled low.
The beast moved first.
It didn't charge right away—not like I expected. It took two slow steps forward, muscles coiled tight under dark fur, and watched me with unblinking eyes. It was sizing me up. Measuring. I held the billhook steady, the wooden grip rough and worn under my fingers. My breath was shallow. Controlled. I didn't want to give it anything. I dropped down into the ravine. Letting it know my intentions.
Then it moved.
A blur of motion—silent and clean. No roar, no warning. Just raw speed.
I swung instinctively, angling the blade low. It clipped the beast's flank, tore through fur and skin, but barely slowed it. Claws raked across my arm as it passed, a flash of white-hot pain streaking through the muscle. I bit down hard and stumbled back, trying to reset.
The beast circled, low to the ground, tail twitching.
I switched the billhook to my good arm and tightened my grip. My blood was already dripping from the torn sleeve, painting the handle red. I didn't look at it. I couldn't afford to. It looked at me with a knowing glint. It had won the first exchange.
It darted forward again, quick like a whipcrack. This time I was ready. I ducked and pivoted, dragging the blade across its shoulder as it passed. Deeper than the last cut. It snarled, more reflex than pain, and spun to face me, eyes narrowed.
The distance between us shrank fast. I backed up until I felt uneven terrain beneath my boots—roots, rocks, anything I could use. My leg hit a slope, and I half-turned, letting it guide me higher while keeping the beast in sight.
I needed every advantage.
It circled again, slower this time. The two of us breathing in sync—harsh, shallow, careful. My body was running on adrenaline now. The weight of the billhook no longer mattered. Even the pain started to fade, pulled under by the pressure in my chest.
It leapt.
I reacted without thinking.
Steel met bone. As I matched its jump.
The blade sank into its chest, but the angle was off. It wasn't a killing blow. The weight of its body knocked me clean off my feet, and we hit the ground hard. My back slammed into dirt and stone, and the air ripped out of my lungs. My grip faltered. The billhook skittered from my hand.
It was on me.
Claws tore into my ribs, and teeth snapped inches from my face. I threw up my forearm, barely keeping its jaws back. My skin screamed in pain, blood warm and fast down my side and onto my face. Its breath was hot, rancid. I could feel the strength behind every muscle.
I reached for the blade with my free hand.
Too far.
It clawed again, and I cried out as my side lit up in white agony. My vision blurred. My fingers closed on empty air.
Then I heard it.
A sound—not in the forest, but in my mind.
Skill Activated: Last Stand
Conditions met. Emergency override engaged. Boosting physical output. Suppressing pain response.
Heat surged through me.
Not warmth—heat. Like someone had dumped fire into my veins. My vision sharpened. My limbs stopped shaking. Pain dulled to background noise. My thoughts locked in.
I grabbed the beast by the throat.
It thrashed, snarling, clawing, but I didn't let go. I pulled with everything I had and rolled, reversing our positions. My knee drove into its stomach as I pinned it down. It jerked its head, trying to bite, but I slammed my fist into its eye. Once. Twice. Its skull cracked against the rock.
I spotted the billhook.
A meter to my left.
I shifted, still holding it down, and dragged myself toward it. My fingers closed on the hilt.
The beast twisted, kicked, and I felt claws slice down my thigh—but it was distant. Muted.
I roared and drove the blade into its chest.
It screamed. A horrible, shrill cry that rattled in my skull.
But it wasn't dead yet.
I pulled the blade free and stabbed again. This time through the side of its neck. Blood exploded outward, coating my arms, soaking the dirt. Its body convulsed once. Then again.
Then it stilled.
I stayed there, breathing hard, my hands locked around the handle.
The body twitched once, a dying reflex.
Then it was over.
I dropped the blade.
The strength left me all at once.
Pain surged back in. No longer dulled—now it was sharp, overwhelming. My ribs burned. My leg throbbed with every heartbeat. I pressed my hand to my side and felt blood pulsing through my fingers.
Everything around me tilted.
The trees spun.
I fell back and stared at the sky through the canopy. The wind pushed through the leaves above, making them whisper. I couldn't hear what they were saying.
I didn't move. Couldn't.
Then I saw it.
The golden shimmer. Just like last time.
It floated above the beast's corpse, drifting like ash in reverse. It hovered, as if waiting for permission. Then it moved—drawn toward me.
I didn't resist.
The energy sank into me like warm rain, soaking through skin and bone. It wasn't violent. It didn't burn. It was… right. Like something my body had always been missing.
Then the system spoke.
Qi absorbed.
System sync in progress…
Stat Increased
Spirit: 11 → 13
Progress: Mortal 1/10 → 2/10
The screen hovered there for a moment before fading.
I stayed on the ground, breathing through gritted teeth.
The blood hadn't stopped.
My entire body hurt. My arms shook. I wasn't sure I could even stand. But the fight was over. And I'd won.
Somehow.
Not because I was strong. Not because I knew what I was doing.
I survived.
Because something inside me refused not to.
Chapter 16
The quiet didn't last.
Somewhere in the underbrush, something moved. A branch snapped. Leaves rustled. The sound was soft, cautious—but it was there.
I tensed, one hand sliding toward the billhook lying in the blood-soaked dirt beside me. My other hand pressed against my side, barely holding back the steady trickle of blood. I wasn't ready for another fight. Not even close.
The noise came again. Closer this time.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself upright, ready to make a final stand if I had to.
Then it stepped out.
Small. Black. Fur sleek and glossy in the light filtering through the trees. Two bright eyes stared up at me from the shadow of a low branch.
The fox.
It stood at the edge of the clearing, nose twitching, head tilted slightly to the side. It didn't look afraid. Just curious.
I stared at it, chest still heaving. My muscles trembled with fatigue.
"You again, come to poison me again." I muttered.
It didn't reply.
"Go on. Shoo." I waved my hand weakly. "No fish today."
Still nothing.
I blinked at it, half expecting it to vanish. The same fox had been watching me since I arrived in this world. At the stream. Near the trees. Always watching, never close enough to touch. I still wasn't sure if it was just a fox.
I motioned again. "Seriously. Go."
After a long pause and a side eye at the corpse resting beside me, it finally turned and stepped back into the underbrush, tail flicking once before disappearing completely.
I sagged with relief. Not because I thought it was a threat—at least not right now—but because it meant I could relax.
My arms felt like lead. My legs barely responded. But I couldn't stay here. If I passed out in this clearing, I wouldn't wake up.
Step by step, I started the long shuffle back.
The forest felt different now. Not in the way it had earlier, when the air had buzzed with the pressure of something waiting. Now it felt… hollow. Like the trees themselves were holding their breath.
I didn't see the fox again.
It took far too long to reach the edge of the woods. The sun was already high by the time I stumbled down the narrow path toward the farm. My vision had narrowed into a tunnel, and my hands were slick with drying blood by the time the cabin came into view.
Wei Lin was outside, crouched by the garden, trimming a line of green shoots with a curved knife.
He looked up as I limped into the clearing.
And dropped the blade.
"By the heavens—what happened?"
I didn't answer. I just collapsed onto one knee near the porch.
Wei Lin was at my side in an instant. His hands hovered near my shoulder, not sure where to touch. "You're bleeding. Everywhere. What—what did you—"
"I'm fine," I managed, which was a lie. "Just need a bit of stitching."
He helped me inside, careful with every step, guiding me to the mat near the hearth. The familiar scent of smoke and herbs wrapped around me as he lowered me down. I leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed, heart still hammering in my chest.
Wei Lin didn't ask more questions—not right away. He moved with quiet urgency, rummaging through jars and drawers until he found what he needed. A spool of thread. A hooked needle. A bowl of hot water.
"This will sting," he warned.
"It already does," I muttered.
He didn't laugh.
The first stitch burned like fire. I hissed through my teeth, gripping the edge of the mat with white knuckles.
"I don't know what you fought," he said quietly, eyes focused on his work, "but it must've been something."
"It was."
A pause.
"And?"
"I won."
He snorted. "Barely."
We didn't say much after that. He worked in silence. I endured it in silence. When he finally tied off the last stitch and stepped back, I felt like I'd lost the fight all over again.
Wei Lin started gathering up the bloodied cloths and setting aside his tools, but I caught the flicker of a thought behind his eyes. He wasn't done talking.
"You said you killed it?"
I nodded once.
He stood and glanced toward the window, the direction I'd come from. "What kind of beast?"
"Same as the one that attacked me before. But bigger." I let out a slow breath. "Meaner too."
He frowned. "Striped fur? Glassy eyes? Long claws?"
"Yeah."
He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself. "Might've been a lyracat . Locals call them dusk creepers. The town will pays decent coin for their hides."
I blinked at him. "You're telling me it's worth something?"
"Everything's worth something. Fur, claws, even the core if it has one." He looked at me, and there was a quiet practicality in his expression I hadn't seen before. "If it's still intact, I could haul it back. It'd fetch enough for food and medicine for a while. Maybe more."
I didn't argue. Honestly, the thought of that thing being useful was a strange comfort.
Wei Lin set a kettle over the fire and stepped away to gather his things. A satchel, a rope coil, a small hooked blade for skinning. Then he glanced back at me. "Don't die while I'm gone."
I managed a grunt that might've been a laugh.
He left soon after, disappearing down the trail with the same quiet steps he always had.
I didn't try to move.
The hours passed in fragments. My body drifted in and out of shallow sleep, never quite fully resting. Every time I shifted, pain lit up across my chest and thigh. The stitches pulled, my ribs ached, and my arm throbbed like it was pulsing with its own heartbeat.
Sometime in the afternoon, Wei Lin returned.
He didn't say much—just dropped the bag with a dull thud and went to work. He brought water first, then a bitter green paste he slathered over my wounds with the ease of long habit. It smelled like crushed leaves and something sharp, and it burned worse than the needle had.
I didn't complain.
"Drink this," he said, handing me a cup filled with something thick and murky. "Will help with the swelling."
It tasted like tree bark and spoiled tea. I drank it anyway.
That night, he set up a small cookfire near the doorway and ladled out bowls of rice and thin broth. He sat across from me, watching the flames, and didn't ask what had really happened out there. Whether he didn't want to know or figured I'd tell him eventually, I wasn't sure.
The next day passed in the same rhythm.
Rest. Herbs. Sleep. Pain.
Wei Lin changed the bandages. Fed me again. Applied more of the burning paste and muttered something about "bone-deep claw rakes" and how lucky I was it hadn't gone for the throat.
I believed him.
By the end of that day, I could sit up without everything spinning. The worst of the bleeding had stopped, and my limbs no longer felt like sacks of wet stone. The pain was still there, deep and ever-present, but it had settled into something manageable.
The cabin was quiet that evening. The wind stirred gently through the rafters, carrying with it the scent of rice paddies and woodsmoke. I could hear Wei Lin out front, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes.
It was the first time since the fight that I let myself exhale fully.
By the second night, I could stand again.
Not well. Not quickly. But upright was a start.
Wei Lin watched me wobble toward the water bucket with his usual unreadable expression. When I didn't immediately collapse, he gave a small grunt and returned to sorting the bundle of dried herbs he'd laid out across the floor.
"You're stubborn," he said after a moment.
"Usually," I replied, wincing as I sat back down.
He nodded like that confirmed something he already knew. Then passed me a cup of water without another word.
Later, after he'd gone outside to tend to the garden—though I suspected he was giving me space—I leaned back against the wall and let myself breathe. The pain had dulled into something distant and heavy. Every movement still felt like dragging a chain through my bones, but I could think clearly again.
And that meant it was time to check.
I closed my eyes and reached for that now-familiar thread inside me—that spark of awareness the system had awakened. It wasn't just a feeling anymore. It was there, constant and quiet, like a second pulse beneath my skin.
A soft chime echoed through my mind.
Status
Name: Ethan Ward
Cultivation: Mortal – 2/10
Titles:
• Diligence's Chosen
• Otherworlder
Skills:
• Last Stand
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 15
Spirit: 13
There it was.
Mortal. 2 out of 10.
Last time I looked, it had just ticked up to 1.
I stared at the number for a long time, not because I didn't understand it—but because now I did.
This wasn't random.
I'd absorbed Qi twice now. Both times after killing something stronger than me. Both times after bleeding for it. And both times, the number had gone up.
Ten.
That was the goal. The number it was building toward.
Which meant the Mortal stage wasn't permanent. It had a ceiling. A cap. And once I hit that ceiling… something would change.
I didn't know what came next. But I knew what came now.
Keep going.
Keep killing. Keep surviving. Keep pushing.
It wasn't a comforting thought.
But it was simple.
I let the screen fade and stared at the ceiling for a while. The cracked wood beams, the flicker of firelight on old nails, the faint scent of herbs in the air.
This wasn't Earth. There were no shortcuts. No safe paths.
Just blood, pain, and progress.
The kind that left scars behind.
And if I ever wanted to go home—if that was even possible—I'd need to reach the end of that path.