Morning light filtered through the cracks in Lin Tian's hut, casting faint golden beams across the floor. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, stirred only slightly by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the lone cultivator seated cross-legged in the center of the room.
Chen Mu hovered above, quiet, composed, and pretending like he was some kind of sage floating on clouds of wisdom. Really, he was watching closely to make sure the kid didn't inhale wrong and explode his lungs again.
"Steady," Chen Mu intoned. "Let the Qi settle. Anchor it at your core."
Lin Tian nodded slightly, his eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. Sweat beaded along his brow, but his breathing was slow and focused. The energy inside him was barely a flicker, but it was stable. Solid.
Chen Mu, still connected to the Beginner Cultivation Manual through the system interface, whispered guidance when needed. For once, he wasn't guessing. He wasn't bluffing. He was...teaching. Kind of.
It was going well.
Too well.
A thunderous knock jolted the hut.
"Oi! Lin Tian! You breathing in there or did you finally Qi-cough yourself to death?"
Lin Tian's eyes snapped open. The flicker inside him stuttered—and vanished.
"Shit," Chen Mu muttered.
The door creaked open without waiting for a response. A tall, broad-shouldered young man leaned in. His outer sect robes were stained with what looked like smoke and beast fur.
Chen Mu watched him with immediate dislike.
"Senior Brother Guo," Lin Tian said quickly, rising and bowing.
"You forgot, didn't you?" Guo sneered. "Your shift. Beast pit maintenance. Elder Sun's already pissed."
"I... I thought I had today to focus on—"
"You thought wrong. Get moving, worm. Or do you want another demerit?"
Lin Tian bowed lower. "Yes, Senior Brother."
Guo left without a goodbye, the door slamming behind him.
Chen Mu cursed silently.
Lin Tian stood there for a moment, fists clenched.
"I'll continue cultivation tonight," he whispered. "I promise."
Then he left.
The beast pens sat at the far end of the sect grounds, built into the hill beside the alchemy halls. Unlike the pristine inner court pavilions or the scenic waterfalls near the elders' towers, this part of the sect stank.
Literally.
Chen Mu observed through the ring as Lin Tian shuffled toward the pens, carrying two wooden buckets and a rusty shovel.
"What exactly is this job again?" Chen Mu asked.
Lin Tian didn't answer, but his memories surfaced—strong smells, filth, hooves, claws, and more than one traumatic experience with something called a "Flatulent Bone Hog."
The pens were little more than low-walled enclosures filled with straw, old bones, and a variety of low-tier spirit beasts that had long since lost any majesty. One corner had a bloated frog the size of a barrel. Another held a nest of chicken-like things that stared at Lin Tian with murderous red eyes.
"This is where the outer sect shines," Lin Tian mumbled. "Beast poop and chicken demons."
For the next four hours, he shoveled filth, dodged claws, and refilled feed troughs with alchemical leftovers that smelled like burning rubber and medicinal failure. At one point, a winged pig dive-bombed him from above, knocking over a barrel of sludge.
Chen Mu said nothing.
He watched.
At first, with detached curiosity. Then... something else.
Lin Tian never complained. Never shouted. Never asked why.
He just kept going.
Covered in muck, sweat soaking through his robes, arms shaking with exhaustion—he didn't stop. Not once. Not even when Guo came back to laugh at him for being late, then "accidentally" spilled a second bucket of feed on him.
"You'll never get past Qi Initiation," Guo had sneered. "You're only good for cleaning pig stalls and chasing chicken demons. Dream smaller."
Lin Tian said nothing.
He just bowed.
And kept working.
Chen Mu didn't speak until hours later, when Lin Tian finally trudged back to his hut, limbs dragging, hair stiff with dried something.
"Why do you let them do that?" Chen Mu asked.
Lin Tian dropped the buckets just outside his door and stared at the floor.
"Because I can't fight them. Not yet. Because... if I talk back, I lose what little I have."
His voice was quiet.
"And because if I'm going to reach the next stage, I have to survive long enough to get there."
Chen Mu had no reply.
Not right away.
Lin Tian washed in silence, dried off with what little clean cloth he had left, and changed into a fresh outer robe—still patched and faded. The moment he sat down cross-legged again, his legs trembled from the strain. But he sat.
"Ready," he whispered.
Chen Mu hesitated. Then, without a word, he activated [Soul Tap].
A wave of steady calm pulsed into Lin Tian's mind like the ghost of a hand resting on his shoulder.
The boy's breathing steadied.
"Begin the Eight Breaths," Chen Mu said softly. "Follow the flow we practiced. You remember it."
"I do."
Lin Tian closed his eyes. This time, the glow came faster. Not stronger—but surer.
It flickered once, then held.
Chen Mu watched in silence as the boy, covered in bruises, exhausted from labor, began to draw in Qi again.
No complaints. No theatrics.
Just grit.
Hours passed.
Chen Mu almost didn't notice the system notification.
[Disciple Progress Update: Qi Initiation – Early Stage Stabilized]
[Estimated Advancement: Mid-Stage Viable With Continued Training]
[+2 BP for disciple perseverance under hardship]
[Soul Strength +1]
Chen Mu opened his own status panel with a thought.
[System Status Panel – Chen Mu (Ring State)]
Bluff Points: 32
Soul Strength: 4
Current Vessel: Jade Ring (Damaged, Dusty, Slightly Sticky)
Abilities: Voice of Authority Lv.1, Soul Tap (1/day)
Manual Access: Beginner Cultivation Manual (Simulated)
Current Objective: Guide disciple through Qi Initiation Realm
Disciple Status: Qi Initiation – Early Stage (Stable)
He closed it slowly.
"I don't know what you're going to become, kid," he muttered. "But I think I'm starting to care."
Lin Tian didn't respond.
He was already asleep, still sitting up.
This time, Chen Mu didn't mock him. Didn't roll his eyes.
He just kept watch. Quietly. Carefully.
For the first time since waking up as a ghost in a ring, he didn't feel like a total fraud.