When Jian Wuxin awoke, the world was still.
His breathing was ragged. His body sore, stiff. The pain from last night's meridian carvings lingered like old ghosts.
But something was different.
There was movement inside him.
Qi.
Not much. Not like the vast storms that had once raged within him. But this… this was pure, raw, and alive. A tiny wisp of energy curled at the base of his spine, like a flickering candle in endless dark.
He reached inward, slowly.
In his prime, Jian Wuxin's Inner World had stretched for miles. His Sea of Qi had formed whirlpools of swordlight and heavenly thunder, shaped by Dao comprehension and ancient runes etched into the walls of his very soul.
Now?
What he saw was a cracked void.
Dark. Silent.
A fragile core—his Dantian—floated at the center, barely formed, no larger than a drop of dew. From it extended three thin rivers, bleeding faint light through shadow. The three meridians he had forcefully opened last night.
> "The Silent Meridians… They're real."
Each meridian glowed faint silver. Unlike normal cultivators whose meridians followed natural order, his were dormant conduits—ancient, untouched, sealed since birth. Once awakened, they acted like direct arteries to the spirit of the world.
But the flow was fragile.
If pushed too hard, his body could collapse.
He needed to cultivate, carefully, precisely, using traditional foundational methods—but fast enough to stabilize the meridians before they re-sealed.
He breathed in.
Held.
Focused.
---
Cultivation System of This World
(As remembered from ancient records and his past life's experience.)
> 1. Body Tempering Realm (3 Sub-Stages):
Skin Tempering – Adapts the skin to resist Qi and outside forces.
Muscle Tempering – Begins Qi circulation, enhances physical strength.
Bone Tempering – Fuses Qi into marrow to begin inner energy core.
Goal: Open 8 main meridians + root pathways.
> 2. Qi Condensation Realm (9 Layers):
Absorb ambient Qi from the world.
Form a stable Sea of Qi in the Dantian.
Begin building an Inner World—a miniature spiritual landscape.
> 3. Foundation Establishment → Core Formation → Nascent Soul → Soul Ascension → Dao Unity → Beyond.
Each realm represented not just power, but connection to the Dao.
Some followed the Blade Dao, others the Fire Dao, or the Emptiness Dao.
But Jian Wuxin had walked the Void-Edge Sword Dao—a path of contradiction, balance, and destruction.
Now, he had to start at the bottom.
Again.
---
The First Cultivation Attempt
He sat cross-legged, using his fingers to draw the traditional Qi-Gathering Formation on the dusty floor in blood and charcoal.
The world outside the slums held fancy spirit stones and engraved jade talismans. But in the past—when the heavens were still young—cultivators used dirt and bone and will.
He spoke ancient syllables under his breath, each one older than the stars:
> "Wan shan lie jie. Qi lai, tiandi."
(All mountains break. Come forth, Heaven and Earth.)
The formation clicked into place.
Spirit Qi—thin, but present—began to gather.
Dust rose. Threads of silver light circled him like moths drawn to flame. But Jian Wuxin didn't rush. He guided the energy inward, inch by inch, toward his Dantian.
> One breath.
Two.
Three.
Then—a sharp twist.
A surge of pain shot through his body like molten iron. His newly opened meridians spasmed, trying to close under the sudden pressure. But Jian Wuxin's will was a blade forged across lifetimes.
> "Hold."
He steadied the flow.
And Qi… entered.
Each breath drew in more—like fine needles slipping under skin, threading through his meridians. The three open pathways began to glow steadily, circulating the spirit essence from his chest down to his abdomen, then back toward his limbs.
By the sixtieth breath, his Dantian pulsed.
The tiny drop inside grew—not much, but enough to shimmer faintly. It was the first successful gathering of Qi in Shen Mo's body since birth.
He'd reached the early stage of Skin Tempering.
---
But cultivating in a broken body came with consequences.
His organs ached. His liver burned. His heart trembled. There were still five more sealed meridians… and he didn't have the luxury of time. If he didn't open more soon, the Qi inside would destabilize.
He stood—barely—and stumbled to the cabinet.
Hidden beneath old clothes and water-stained books was a jade pill bottle. Inside: a single Redroot Recovery Pill—low grade, nearly expired, but usable.
Shen Mo must've saved this.
> "You never gave up entirely, did you?" Jian Wuxin whispered.
He crushed the pill between his teeth. The bitter herbal taste made him gag, but warmth spread instantly through his chest and limbs.
Using the pill's surge of temporary healing, he raised the glass shard again.
This time, he cut across his chest, following the diagram for the Heart Meridian.
The pain was deeper—closer to the soul. He collapsed forward, gasping. But the moment blood touched the old formation, the Qi around him surged inward.
> The fourth meridian opened.
---
⚔️ Inner Change
By the third hour of the day, Jian Wuxin had opened five of the eight required meridians.
His body was beginning to hum with life. Strength returned, just a little. Color returned to his skin. The bruises around his neck faded. His hair no longer clung to his skull like death's veil—it flowed, just slightly.
The Dantian within him stabilized.
And for the first time since awakening, he could feel the edges of his Inner World.
No longer a void. Not yet a storm.
Just a spark in darkness.
A star.
---
But danger was approaching.
Outside, in the alleys of Grayveil District, a young disciple from the Ironblood Sect was making his rounds. He carried a recruitment scroll and a smug grin.
> The sect often scoured slums for orphans, desperate talents, or broken souls they could train—and own.
And Shen Mo… had always been passed over.
Until now.
The disciple stopped suddenly, sniffing the air. A glimmer of Qi? From this apartment?
> "No one here has spirit roots," he muttered. "That cripple's long dead."
He kicked the door open.
And paused.
Inside, a boy sat cross-legged in a bloody circle of charcoal, five silver-glowing meridians bleeding faint light, and a calm, unnatural gaze locked onto him.
The disciple's eyes widened.
> "You… who the hell are you?!"
Jian Wuxin smiled.
But his eyes were not kind.
> "Shen Mo," he said simply. "Remember it."
And with a sudden surge of Qi—his fifth meridian glowing like a lightning bolt—he moved.
The disciple saw only a blur before he was slammed against the wall, gasping, clutching his ribs.
> "I don't need your pity."
"Tell your sect—Shen Mo is no longer broken."