The wind moved gently through the Valley of Quiet Pines, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something sweet—maybe mountain blossoms, maybe the lingering traces of incense from the morning rituals. Joseph—no, Wei Shen now, though he still stumbled over the name—sat cross-legged on the cold meditation stone, trying not to fidget.
His legs had gone numb nearly twenty minutes ago. A sharp tingling ran from his knees down to his toes, like tiny needles pricking his skin. He wondered if ancient cultivators ever died from circulation problems rather than epic battles. What a way to go—toppled over mid-meditation, drowned face-first in the reflecting pool.
"Still your breath," Elder Mu's voice came again, calm but firm.
"Trying," Joseph muttered through clenched teeth. His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough that three nearby disciples twitched.
One of them—a girl with sharp features and perfect posture—opened one dark eye to glare at him. Lin Yue. He'd learned her name quickly, if only because she seemed to take personal offense to his every breath.
"You're disturbing the spiritual flow," she whispered, her voice colder than the morning dew.
Joseph tilted his head toward her. "Sorry. My stomach's spiritual flow disagrees with the schedule."
Her nostrils flared slightly before she closed her eyes again, lifting her chin like she was rising above something distasteful. Around them, the other disciples sat perfectly still, their breathing synchronized, their faces serene. They made it look effortless—this whole "cultivation" thing.
Joseph swallowed a sigh. Three days. Three days since he'd woken up in this body, in this world where people supposedly channeled energy and fought with swords and lived by rules he barely understood. Three days of aching knees, confusing drills, and trying not to betray that he remembered nothing about being Wei Shen.
The meditation bell rang at last, its clear tone echoing across the courtyard. Joseph nearly groaned in relief as he unfolded his stiff legs, wincing as blood rushed back into them. He rubbed his thighs, watching the other disciples rise gracefully—no wobbling, no desperate stretches. Show-offs.
"Disciples," Elder Mu said, hands folded into his wide sleeves, "you will now proceed to the Jade Pool Pavilion for internal breathing drills. No talking, no dawdling, and—" his gaze landed pointedly on a grinning boy near the back, "—no collapsing into the water like last time."
The group turned as one to look at Han Bo, who shrugged without shame. "Wasn't my fault the fish looked like demons," he said, earning a few stifled laughs and another sigh from Elder Mu.
Joseph fell into step beside the others as they made their way down the winding stone path. Moss grew between the cracks, soft underfoot. The air smelled greener here than anything he remembered from his old life—sharper, fresher, like the world itself was more alive.
"You look like you're about to fall over," a voice said at his elbow.
Joseph turned to see Ping An walking beside him, a small smile on his round face. The boy moved quietly, almost gliding, his dark eyes bright with amusement.
"Feel like it too," Joseph admitted, rolling his shoulders. "How do you people sit like that for hours?"
"Practice. And not being dead for three days before waking up in a new body."
Joseph nearly tripped. Ping An's smile didn't waver.
"I—what?"
Ping An blinked innocently. "You're Wei Shen, right? From the eastern dormitory?"
Joseph's pulse pounded in his throat. "Right. Yeah. Just... tired."
"Mm." Ping An didn't press further, just adjusted the sash at his waist. "You did better today. Only almost fell asleep twice."
"Progress," Joseph muttered.
Ahead of them, Lin Yue walked alone, her back straight as a blade. Han Bo caught up to her, saying something that made her shoulders tense. Joseph couldn't hear the words, but the dismissive tilt of her head was clear enough.
"Don't mind Yue," Ping An said, following his gaze. "She's like that with everyone."
"Good to know it's not just me."
"Oh no, it's definitely extra you." Ping An grinned at Joseph's expression. "You did drool on her robe during meditation yesterday."
Joseph groaned. "That was an accident."
"Was the snoring an accident too?"
"I don't snore!"
Their quiet laughter drew a glance from Lin Yue—a quick, unreadable look before she faced forward again. Han Bo fell back to walk beside Joseph, slinging an arm around his shoulders with easy familiarity.
"New guy's funny," Han Bo announced to no one in particular. His grin was sharp, his eyes bright with mischief. "You're alright, Wei Shen."
Joseph forced a smile. "Thanks?"
"Don't let Yue scare you," Han Bo said, nodding toward Lin Yue's retreating back. "She acts like she swallowed a sword manual, but she's secretly soft. Saw her feeding a stray cat behind the archives last week."
"I did no such thing," Lin Yue said without turning around.
"Did too! Little orange thing. You even smiled."
"It bit me."
"Out of love!"
Lin Yue sped up slightly, leaving them behind. Han Bo's laughter rang out, startling a bird from a nearby tree. Joseph found himself smiling despite everything—the confusion, the fear, the bone-deep certainty that he didn't belong here.
As they reached the pavilion, the disciples formed neat rows along the pool's edge. The water shimmered with an unnatural glow, reflecting no clouds despite the overcast sky. Joseph took his place between Ping An and a scowling junior disciple, copying their stance—feet shoulder-width apart, hands cupped before the stomach.
"Begin," Elder Mu intoned.
Joseph inhaled deeply, trying to mimic the rhythm around him. But as he exhaled, something strange happened. The pool's surface rippled—not from wind, but in perfect concentric circles radiating from where he stood. The water beneath his reflection darkened, swirling like ink.
For a heartbeat, he saw another face staring back at him—older, fiercer, with eyes that burned like coals. Then Ping An elbowed him, and the vision shattered.
"You're doing it wrong," Ping An whispered. "Your qi is—"
"I know," Joseph lied, heart hammering. He risked another glance at the water. Only his own pale, confused face looked back.
But as the drills continued, he couldn't shake the feeling that something in the depths had looked back. And worse—that it had recognized him.