Ning quickly settled into his new residence: a modest wooden hut standing beside his ten acres of spirit farmland.
It wasn't much to look at, but it was surprisingly complete.
Inside was a sturdy wooden bed, a cupboard, a small kitchen, and even a separate washroom. Everything one needed to live was present.
Technically, none of it was new.
It had all belonged to the previous disciple assigned to this plot.
"Thankfully, the servants cleaned everything and replaced the bedding," Ning muttered, looking over the neatly folded blankets.
He really didn't want to imagine the alternative.
Who knew what kind of cultivator had lived here before him? Maybe the previous owner had failed a breakthrough and exploded.
...Or worse.
Ning shuddered. The bedding might've belonged to someone who never washed their socks.
He didn't have much faith in the hygiene standards of teenagers in medieval fantasy worlds.
The cupboard was next. Empty, of course. There were no hidden manuals, no surprise snacks, not even a forgotten copper coin. Truly, the inheritance of the ages.
The kitchen wasn't much better: one pot, one ladle, and a stove that looked like it might explode the next time it saw use.
Ning was beginning to notice a pattern.
"Well... at least the sect promised us three months' worth of rations."
There was actually a reason for that generosity.
New cultivators were discouraged from eating ordinary mortal food while cultivating. According to the sect, mundane food contained impurities that slowed the circulation of spiritual qi. Whether that was entirely true or simply a convenient excuse to standardize everyone's diet, Ning had no idea.
But free food was free food. He wasn't about to complain.
All things considered, the arrangement wasn't bad.
He had a roof over his head, ten acres of land, and-most importantly-no rent.
Well, no monetary rent at least.
The sect still collected seventy-five percent of every harvest, expected him to work the fields, and assigned whatever miscellaneous duties it pleased.
"...Actually, this feels suspiciously similar to rent."
After washing away the dust from the day's events, Ning collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh.
Despite everything that had happened, he was an introvert at heart. Spending an entire day meeting strangers, making conversation, and navigating an unfamiliar world had drained him more thoroughly than any cultivation session could have.
He stared at the wooden ceiling.
"Alright, plans for the future," he muttered. "Step one, survive. Step two, improve cultivation. Step three, learn farming."
The bed creaked ominously as he rolled onto his side. Ning frowned. "Step four, reinforce the furniture before I find my face greeting the floor."
With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off into his favorite type of relationship. Death without commitment. He slept.
...
In the morning light, Ning stood bare-chested, his skin glistening beneath a thin sheen of sweat. He settled into a horse stance, rooted his feet firmly into the earth, and drove his fists forward one after another. Each strike split the air with a sharp crack, his movements precise and practiced despite the fatigue slowly creeping into his limbs. Only after several more repetitions did he finally lower his arms, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths while sweat dripped steadily onto the packed dirt below.
"Panel."
The familiar blue screen appeared before his eyes.
[Name: Ji Ning
Spiritual Root:
Mid-grade Spiritual Root
Attributes:
Five Elemental Attributes
Talent:
Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity
Realm:
1st Stage of Qi Condensation (Consolidated)
Cultivation Method:
Pure Qi Sutra
(1st Floor: 1/100)
Martial Arts:
Bone Forging Fist
(Starting: 99/100 → Small Accomplishment: 1/200)
, Shadow Steps
(Starting: 99/100)
]
Compared to before, the panel had become noticeably more detailed. Seeing the fruits of his training condensed into neat rows of numbers filled Ning with an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
"The panel evolves on its own..." he murmured, the corner of his lips twitching.
The more it changed, the less it resembled some mystical treasure from a cultivation world and the more it looked like the RPG status screens he had spent countless hours staring at back on Earth. The only difference was that this time he wasn't controlling the character on the screen.
He was the character.
For a brief moment, his expression grew thoughtful before he let out a quiet sigh.
"Still no clue."
In the end, there was little point dwelling on it. Whether the panel was a treasure, a cheat, or something else entirely, it was helping him. That alone was enough. Progress that could be measured was progress that could be pursued.
While most cultivators had to rely on vague feelings and years of persistence before noticing improvement, Ning could see every step he took. Numbers had a strange way of motivating people.
His gaze drifted to the bottom of the panel, lingering on Bone Forging Fist and Shadow Steps. Both techniques stood on the very edge of a breakthrough.
"I really inherited quite the foundation from... myself."
He couldn't help but chuckle.
The previous Ji Ning had spent years practicing these techniques despite possessing almost no qi to support them. Every punch thrown, every stance held, every mistake corrected had accumulated into a foundation that now bore fruit the moment spiritual qi entered the equation. It really was proof that hard work never truly went to waste.
That thought naturally led him somewhere else.
He still found himself referring to the original owner of this body as the "previous Ning," yet the distinction felt increasingly blurred. His memories were complete, his instincts often surfaced without conscious thought, and even some habits no longer felt foreign. Perhaps the two souls had merged. Perhaps there had never been two to begin with. Whatever the truth was, it was another mystery for another day.
Feeling oddly inspired, Ning raised one hand toward the ceiling and announced grandly, "So I'm Ning no more... but at the same time, I have gone even further beyond."
The room answered with complete silence.
After several long seconds, he slowly lowered his arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"...That sounded much cooler in my head."
The mirror across the room remained utterly unsympathetic, reflecting only a lean young man with sharp blue eyes and a body sculpted by years of relentless practice. Bone Forging Fist had done more than strengthen his strikes. Each breakthrough subtly tempered his muscles and bones, making his physique noticeably sturdier than that of an ordinary cultivator at the same realm.
Ning flexed his arm once before giving an approving nod. "Good thing too." A faint grin tugged at his lips. "Turns out farming is still manual labor."
After recovering the qi he had expended, Ning picked up the jade slip containing the sect's rules and pressed it against his forehead. Information poured into his mind almost instantly.
Respect your elders. Obey the sect's orders. Do not trespass upon forbidden grounds. Duels without cause are prohibited. Theft and desertion are punishable by death.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Straightforward enough.
What caught Ning's attention wasn't the rules themselves, but the way they were written. Some were absolute, leaving no room for interpretation, while others were vague enough that enforcement clearly depended on whoever happened to be in charge.
Classic.
Back on Earth, he'd learned early that surviving within any system began with understanding its rules. Not because he intended to break them, but because knowing exactly where the boundaries lay also meant knowing how close he could safely walk to them. Rules were only ever as strict as the people enforcing them.
He let out a quiet breath.
Same principle here. Keep your head down, learn where the lines are, and don't be the idiot who trips over one.
Setting the jade slip aside, Ning brought out the
Pure Qi Sutra
. Like every cultivation method, it possessed its own strengths. According to the introduction, cultivating it to completion would not only refine one's qi but gradually cleanse the marrow itself, purging the body of accumulated impurities. Few disciples ever reached that level, but even before then its greatest advantage was obvious: it produced exceptionally pure qi while consuming comparatively little spiritual energy.
That suited Ning perfectly.
The purer his qi became, the longer he could train his martial arts before exhausting himself. For someone who planned to improve through relentless practice, there was hardly a more suitable cultivation method.
Crossing his legs, Ning slowly closed his eyes and settled into meditation. His breathing became deep and steady as strands of spiritual energy drifted toward him from the surrounding heavens and earth, flowing through his meridians before being refined into true qi within his dantian. The process was smooth at first, but after about an hour, a dull ache gradually spread through his meridians, the channels protesting the continuous strain.
Ning opened his eyes. "So that's my limit."
For a cultivator at the First Stage of Qi Condensation, about an hour of uninterrupted cultivation seemed to be the maximum before efficiency began dropping sharply. Pushing beyond that point would only overwork his meridians while yielding diminishing returns. Those stories of cultivators spending months or years in closed-door cultivation belonged to experts far above his current level. Even many Foundation Establishment cultivators couldn't afford to meditate continuously for such absurd lengths of time.
Ning rose to his feet and stretched lazily before smiling to himself.
"One step at a time."
There was no need to rush.
After all, cultivation was a marathon, not a sprint.
...
For the next few days, Ning barely left his courtyard. The sect had granted this brief adjustment period, and wasting it would have been foolish.
Those quiet days turned out to be more enlightening than he'd expected.
While practicing the Pure Qi Sutra, he hit a snag. Even within his safe practice limits, pushing his qi through constant, back-to-back circulations started causing a faint discomfort in his meridians, a dull, raw ache, as if the channels inside him were being rubbed the wrong way.
If it were a physical injury, he would have felt other symptoms. If it were pure exhaustion, a solid night's sleep would have fixed it. This was neither.
So, Ning changed his approach.
Instead of cultivating until his brain felt sluggish, he pulled back early, stopping right as his qi completed a few smooth cycles and naturally began to settle. He waited until everything was perfectly still before starting the next session.
The difference was night and day.
The lingering ache vanished. His breathing grew steadier, and his meditation became far more efficient.
Ning opened his eyes slowly. "So that's the trick."
The opening lines of the manual surfaced in his mind: Qi is not seized, but welcomed. The body is not a furnace, but a vessel.
At first, he'd written that off as flowery nonsense. It wasn't entirely his fault; nearly a third of the text was clogged with bloated, abstract metaphors. But it turned out the Pure Qi Sutra actually rewarded restraint.
He tested the theory over his next few sessions, deliberately pushing past the settling point once, then stopping early the next time. The results were consistent. Beyond a certain threshold, forcing the circulation didn't actually strengthen his foundation. It just chafed his meridians, like sanding a piece of wood until it wore completely thin.
Satisfied with his progress, Ning finally stepped out into the open air.
A fresh breeze immediately cleared his head. Out by the path, he ran into Old Zhou, who looked like he was just returning from a morning fishing trip.
"Junior Brother Ning, you look refreshed today," Old Zhou noted, remembering how reclusive the kid had been the last few days.
"Junior Brother?" Ning blinked. Oh, right, he was in xianxia land where such terms were common.
Ning felt that calling others that was a bit of a mouthful, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do. If he wanted to blend in, he had to play the part. "Yes, I finally cleared a roadblock that had been annoying me."
"Oh? What was that?" Old Zhou asked, genuinely curious.
Ning casually laid out his findings. There wasn't much point in hiding a basic mechanical realization anyway.
Old Zhou let out a short chuckle. "So you caught onto that, did you?"
"You already knew?"
"Of course," Zhou said easily. "But it's always better when a cultivator figures these things out on their own. Think of it as a rite of passage for newcomers."
Ning stared at him. A rite of passage? Leaving out basic safety warnings is just hazing.
Seeing Ning's deadpan expression, Old Zhou straightened up and gestured toward the vast, terraced fields around them. "Cultivation is no different from farming, brat. Too much water drowns the roots. Too little dries them out. Knowing when to stop matters just as much as knowing how to act."
He pointed a calloused finger toward the distant, jagged hills. "Environment plays a role, too. Cultivate near water, and excess yin seeps into your channels. Near bare stone, fire qi gathers faster. The exact same technique will give you completely different results depending on where you sit. The same goes for timing."
"Timing?" Ning asked, leaning in.
Zhou nodded. "Morning qi rises fast but lacks stability. Night qi is calm, but heavy and sluggish. Midday is perfectly balanced, assuming your body can handle the heat."
Ning bowed deeply, entirely sincere this time. "Thank you for the guidance."
Getting his hands on this kind of practical data was a massive shortcut. At the very least, it saved him weeks of trial and error.
"Just common sense around here," Old Zhou replied, waving a dismissive hand. "You'll hear the elders explain it properly in a few days anyway. The General Affairs Hall will be posting the outer sect lecture schedule soon."
Ning thanked him once more, sighing inwardly as he walked away. If even these foundational tips weren't included on the starter jade slips, the sect's strategy was obvious: they didn't care about preventing mistakes; they just wanted to control the information.
...
Thanks for reading~