Pain flared through me as I tried to move. It came in waves—sharp stabs along my ribs, a throbbing ache in my limbs, a fiery burn that seemed to radiate from inside my bones. My arms felt like wet noodles strapped to weights. I hissed through clenched teeth and instantly regretted it; the air scraping my throat was like sandpaper. Okay, rule number one in whatever nightmare this was: moving hurts. A lot.
As the fog in my mind cleared, panic set in. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t even in my world. Memories that weren’t mine flickered at the edges of my consciousness: the cold stones of a courtyard, the stern face of an elder sneering down, the sting of a whip. A name—was there a name?—kept slipping through my grasp like smoke. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
I lay still, because any movement threatened to dislodge whatever fragile balance my body had. The darkness around me gradually resolved. I was lying in a shallow pit at the base of some kind of slope. Loose soil and pebbles pressed against my back. Faint light filtered in from above, where the pit opened to a cloudy sky. Voices drifted down, muffled by distance and my own dulled senses.
“He’s still not dead?” a nasal voice scoffed from somewhere up the slope.
“Waste of resources,” another agreed, this one lower and full of contempt. “We should have thrown him farther. Let the beasts finish the job. No one will miss a useless branch like him.”
Well, that was reassuring. On the upside, I wasn’t alone. On the downside, my new acquaintances clearly weren’t friendly. And then there was the small matter of me apparently being thrown into a hole to die.
More memories seeped in, like water through a cracked dam. A boy, barely into his teens, kneeling in the mud while older youths jeered. A hand raised in supplication, then smashed aside. Hours spent hungry in a dim corner, ignored by busy servants and disdainful elders. The boy’s heart beating fast under thin robes as someone whispered, “He’s a disgrace—no Qitan to speak of, they said.” The boy—no, I—had been on the bottom rung of a ladder I’d never even known existed. Worse, he had been despised for it.
On cue, a cold whisper slid across my mind like ice on bare skin.
—Binding accepted. Initialization complete. Diagnostic commencing.—
I jerked at the voice echoing inside my skull. My head hit the packed earth, sending sparks of agony shooting through my vision. I clamped my jaw to stifle a cry. Not the best introduction to the day. Great, now I heard voices in my head. Was I dead? Was this a post?mortal psychosis? Or had my overworked brain finally snapped and decided to invent auditory hallucinations?
—Calm, Host. You are not hallucinating. This interface is the Qitan System. Your current physical condition: critical. Multiple meridian fractures, organ trauma, internal bleeding. Recommend immediate intervention.—
“Oh,” I croaked, surprised I could muster any sound. “Sure. Why not. Add a talking voice to my list of problems.” My voice sounded younger, cracked. If this was my body, it wasn’t the twenty?something I remembered. It was the voice of a boy.
The System ignored my sarcasm.
—Do you accept binding? Y/N.—
I blinked at the floating text that shimmered in my mind’s eye. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Y/N? Was this a cosmic pop?up ad? On the other hand, my options were limited. My body was failing; I could feel warmth pooling under me that I knew too well now to be my own blood. Pain, hunger, thirst, fear—the greatest hits of being alive. And this voice offered…something.
This wasn’t the time to be picky. “Yes,” I whispered.
—Binding confirmed. Qitan Flesh Burst available: Vital Surge. Commence?—
“Do I have a choice?” I muttered, then mentally screamed, Yes! A wave of instinct washed over me as if answering an unspoken command.
Heat blossomed from deep within my chest, like coals beneath my ribcage suddenly being fanned to life. It was both suffocating and sweet. The warmth raced along my veins, spreading through my limbs in pulses. For a heartbeat I felt like my body was a cracked vessel being filled with molten metal, but instead of burning, the energy soothed. My muscles tensed and released of their own accord. Bones creaked. The world shrank to a singular focus: breathe this energy, absorb it, live.
As the Vital Surge flooded me, I glimpsed something beyond the physical sensations. Behind the heat was structure—three layers of energy that intertwined like braided threads. The first layer, dense and weighty, settled into my muscles and bones, making them feel anchored in reality. The second, more fluid, swirled along channels I hadn’t known existed, coiling and looping like a river through a forest. The third was an airy presence brushing the edge of my awareness, like a phantom hand hovering over mine, impossible to grasp yet undeniably there. Flesh. Flow. Will. The words arose unbidden, as if plucked from someone else’s memory.
The surge abated as quickly as it began. When it dissipated, the pain that had dominated every breath dulled to a manageable ache. I gingerly flexed my fingers. They moved. I pressed my palms to the dirt and—carefully—pushed myself up into a sitting position. The world tilted, but I didn’t topple over. My legs trembled under me but they held. I exhaled a shaky laugh. If anyone had told me yesterday that I’d be grateful simply to sit upright, I would have told them to lay off the late?night kung fu movies.
“Okay,” I breathed, wiping at my face. My hand came away smeared with drying blood and dirt. “Okay. Not dead. That’s good.”
—Core vitals stabilized. Severe injuries remain. Further treatment recommended. Initiate meridian rehabilitation soon.—
“Later,” I whispered, glancing up toward the lip of the pit. Shadows moved against the gray light. The voices from before were drawing closer. I pressed back against the dirt wall, ignoring the fresh stab in my ribs.
“Search down there again,” the nasal voice commanded. “Elder Xun will skin us if we lose track of that wretch.”
Boots scraped loose stones as at least two figures clambered closer to my hiding place. I held my breath. My heart hammered in my throat—too loud, surely too loud. My newly stable body screamed at me to stay motionless, to not squander the precious Vital Surge on panicked fidgeting. I could not let them see me alive. Not yet.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Tch, why bother?” the second voice whined. “He never awakened any Qitan. He’s a shame to the clan. Let the dogs have him.”
“Orders are orders,” the first snapped. “Do you want the duty flogged out of you?”
I didn’t dare peek, but from the way the light shifted I knew they were leaning over the edge. I closed my eyes and forced my breathing to shallow, slow—like that of a corpse cooling. It was harder than I expected. Every instinct screamed to gulp air. Every muscle wanted to twitch.
“See anything?” the second asked.
“Hmph. Nothing but a lump. Maybe he really croaked.” The words were laced with irritation and, to my immense relief, the sound of footsteps retreating.
“Better get back. The elders will want us at the training grounds. Let that trash rot.” Gravel skittered as they trudged away. Their voices faded.
Only when I could no longer hear them did I allow myself to release the breath burning in my lungs. My shoulders shook with the effort of keeping quiet. After a long minute, I dared to peek above the edge of the pit. The courtyard beyond was deserted. Patches of weed?choked stone stretched toward a cluster of ancient wooden buildings. Flags bearing bold characters fluttered above doorways. If I’d had any doubt about being somewhere other than my hometown, that doubt was long gone. The architecture screamed old world opulence: curved roofs with upturned eaves, ornamental beasts perched on corners, everything carved or painted in rich reds and blacks.
This was a clan compound. And I, apparently, was the clan disappointment.
I lowered myself back into the pit, my mind racing. So. I had a System in my head, a broken body that was slightly less broken thanks to Vital Surge, and zero idea why this clan hated me so much. I also had, beneath my fear, a strange stirring of exhilaration. Underneath the pain and dirt, I’d felt it when the energy surged through me: power. Not the kind I’d known in my old life, of bank accounts and job prospects. Raw, visceral power that thrummed in my bones and sang through unseen channels. A taste of something more. And somewhere above me, people spoke of “Qitan” as casually as I might mention going for coffee.
Part of me wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Another part—the one that had always whispered in the dark when I read stories about heroes training and growing stronger—leaned forward with interest. A new world. A new chance. A mysterious System offering to guide me down a path of cultivation I’d only ever fantasized about. Was this the worst day of my life? Absolutely. Was it also, potentially, the most important? Possibly.
“System,” I murmured, feeling ridiculous for talking to myself in a hole. “What…what exactly did you do to me?”
—Vital Surge is a Qitan Flesh Burst. It channels latent Qitan into your physical form, reinforcing tissues and stabilizing vital functions. Effectiveness scales with host’s current realm.—
“Realm,” I repeated, tasting the unfamiliar word. Memories of that fleeting vision of layers surfaced. Flesh, Flow, Will. Foundation, Inner, Outer, Sovereign, Ascendant, Immortal. It sounded like the leveling systems in cultivation novels I used to binge read. Except those were fiction. This felt more alarmingly like reality. “I’m guessing I’m at the bottom of this ladder.”
—Correct. You are currently unawakened. Opening your meridians will establish a Foundation Path. Only then can you begin cultivating Qitan Flow and Qitan Will. Failure to do so will result in stagnation and eventual death due to spiritual energy leakage.—
“No pressure,” I muttered. My throat was dry; I coughed and winced as pain flared. “Can you…keep quiet about this? I mean, what you are? The people up there don’t exactly seem friendly.”
—Understood. System communications are internal. External manifestation can be suppressed until explicitly permitted.—
Good. Last thing I needed was to be labelled a demon for having glowing words floating over my head. I rubbed my arms, noting with relief that the skin there had lost its waxy pallor. Bruises bloomed purple and yellow, but the bleeding had stopped. My chest still ached with every breath, but it was dull now, like an old bruise rather than a gaping wound. Whatever Vital Surge had done, it had given me a reprieve. A small one.
Above me, distant bells chimed. The sound reverberated through the compound, low and solemn. Somewhere in the back of my mind, an echo responded: training call, the boy’s memories suggested. Morning drills. Suddenly, exhaustion crashed over me like a wave. The adrenaline that had kept me alert faded, leaving me trembling and cold.
I couldn’t stay in this pit forever. Sooner or later, someone would notice a corpse that hadn’t rotted. Or worse, someone would kick me back down. If I wanted to survive in this world—if I wanted to find out why I was here, who this boy was, and whether I could ever return home—I needed to get stronger. That meant cultivating. That meant following the mysterious System’s instructions. That meant opening my meridians.
“System,” I whispered, letting my head fall back against the dirt, “how do I do that? How do I open my meridians?”
—The Foundation Path is established through focused breathing and meditation, aligning your intent with Qitan Flow. Locate your dantian and cycle energy through your meridians until they are cleared. With your current injuries, efficiency will be low. Initial progress is expected to be slow. Persistence is required.—
Of course. No magic pill. No instant cheat. Just my favorite things: patience and pain. I exhaled slowly and forced a smile. “Fine. You saved me. I’ll listen. Just…don’t be surprised if I complain a lot.”
—Acknowledged.—
I closed my eyes, ignoring the gritty dirt that stuck to my lashes. I tried to remember every cheesy meditation guide I’d ever skimmed. Sit up straight. Focus on your breathing. Empty your mind. Harder to do when everything hurt and the smell of blood clung to you. Still, as I inhaled, I felt a faint flutter of warmth low in my abdomen, just beneath my navel. That must be the dantian, the focal point of energy. I anchored my awareness there, tracking the warmth as it spread slowly through my torso. It felt like a gentle stream pushing against clogged pipes. My meridians protested, stiff and blocked, but I persisted. Inch by inch, the warmth pushed further, leaving behind a tingling trail.
Time lost meaning. Bells rang somewhere above, marking who knew what. My stomach growled. My limbs occasionally spasmed as I fought the urge to curl up and rest. The System remained mercifully silent, a patient observer in my mind. Whenever my concentration wavered, I reminded myself of the voices that had called me worthless and expendable. I thought of the boy’s memories of scorn and neglect. I thought of my own life cut off in its prime without warning, leaving me in this strange world. Anger and fear simmered, then crystallized into determination. I wasn’t going to die in a hole because some entitled brats decided my worth. Not again.
At some point, long after my legs had gone numb from sitting cross?legged and my hands trembled from fatigue, something inside me clicked. The faint stream of warmth suddenly rushed forward, bursting through a blockage with the sensation of tearing paper. An intense, cool rush followed, sweeping away lingering aches and clearing a path. Light exploded behind my closed eyes—bright, multicolored sparks that danced and faded.
—First meridian opened. Foundation Path initiation confirmed.—
I gasped, more from the shock of sensation than need for air. My eyes flew open. For a heartbeat, the world seemed sharper. The colors of the courtyard beyond the pit were more vivid, the sounds more distinct. I could hear the wind whispering under the eaves. I could sense, faintly, the pulsing of energy in the very air around me, like currents in an unseen ocean.
A laugh bubbled up unbidden. It came out hoarse and weak, but it was laughter all the same. “Ha! Take that, fate!” I whispered, startling myself with the fervor in my voice. “First step accomplished.”
My body slumped then, exhaustion winning the tug?of?war. I let myself lay back carefully, limbs sprawled. Above, the sky had shifted from gray to pale blue. Dawn must have come while I sat there. I smiled despite the dirt in my teeth. Pain still throbbed through me, but it was a different pain now—the soreness of muscles used and meridians stretched rather than the jagged stab of impending death. I could work with this.
My new life in this strange world had begun in a pit, literally and figuratively. But I’d clawed my way up before. I’d learn how to climb here too. Secret System, hidden Qitan, vengeful clan or not—I’d find a way. And maybe, just maybe, this time I wouldn’t have to do it alone.
I let my eyes drift shut. For the first time since I woke up bleeding and broken, I allowed myself a flicker of hope. Sure, my path was uncertain, and danger lurked in every shadow, but the opportunity was intoxicating. My old world had been predictable to the point of suffocation. Here, a whole universe of possibilities, of cultivation and growth and, yes, danger, stretched before me. If I survived the next day, perhaps I’d survive the one after that. Perhaps I’d thrive.
And if the clan thought I was a worthless branch, well… I couldn’t wait to watch their faces when this branch grew into a tree they couldn’t chop down.