The mountain winds had turned bitter.
It was the first snowfall of the season. Pale flakes drifted silently through the gray sky, blanketing Azure Peak in fragile white. The snow swallowed noise and slowed motion; the world became quieter, almost reverent, as if mourning something unseen.
Jiang Chen sat cross-legged under the worn eaves of the outer sect storeroom, dressed in threadbare robes too thin for the cold. His fists were wrapped in strips of old cloth. Crimson had dried at the knuckles—faint, but persistent.
His Proficiency Panel flickered before his inner eye.
...
[Skill: Stone Fist Manual]
→ Current Level: Small Achievement (42%)
→ Next Milestone: Great Achievement
[Skill: Mountain Stance Breathing]
→ Current Level: Entry (97%)
→ Next Milestone: Proficient
...
He exhaled slowly.
Each breath released a stream of white mist, mingling with the snow around him. His muscles ached—not the sharp pain of injury, but the deep, lingering soreness of continuous exertion. Every joint throbbed with fatigue, and his bones felt heavier.
Still, he didn't stop.
He struck the stone pillar again.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
And again.
Thud.
The sound was dull, but firm—his knuckles slamming into the icy stone, imprinting his will with every blow. The cold numbed the pain, but Jiang Chen welcomed it. Pain meant he was still moving forward.
Behind him, the storeroom door creaked.
He didn't turn.
Footsteps. Light ones. Probably Mu Xiaoyun again.
"Still out here, Brother Jiang?" she said softly.
He paused only for a moment. "Mm."
Mu Xiaoyun knelt beside him, placing a small, steaming bun on a cloth between them. "You haven't eaten since yesterday."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're always saying that," she said with a soft frown. "But you keep losing weight."
Jiang Chen glanced at the bun. The scent of meat was faint—likely mostly flour with scraps—but to him, it was a banquet. His stomach growled despite himself.
Mu Xiaoyun smiled and tore the bun in half, pressing one into his hand. "Eat. I'll stand watch."
He hesitated. "If the others see you with me—"
"Let them," she said, eyes clear and calm. "I know what I'm doing."
Jiang Chen said nothing, but took the half-bun and bit into it slowly. The warmth spread through his chest.
For a moment, the snow didn't feel so cold.
...
Later that afternoon, Jiang Chen stood alone in the back clearing behind the servant quarters, shirtless despite the snow.
His breathing technique was nearing the threshold. The Mountain Stance Breathing Method was simple, crude even—but it rooted the body, drew qi from the earth, and stabilized one's inner energy. With his body honed and muscles tight, he finally felt the flow.
He entered stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Arms relaxed but coiled. Spine aligned.
He inhaled.
Qi flowed from his feet, creeping up through his legs like sap through a tree. It was faint, nearly imperceptible—but real.
He exhaled.
A faint shimmer pulsed across his skin. The snow around him fluttered from an unseen wind, though none blew.
The panel shifted.
...
[Skill: Mountain Stance Breathing]
→ Level Up: Proficient (0% → 1%)
→ Bonus Gained: Minor Stability – Slightly increases resistance to external force while rooted.
...
Jiang Chen opened his eyes.
His breath left him in a quiet exhale. The world around him seemed... clearer.
But before he could bask in the moment, he heard approaching footsteps again—this time heavier, louder, and more than one pair.
From the slope, three figures emerged.
Outer sect disciples.
He recognized them.
Sun Jing. Bai Yao. Liang Yi. All known for picking fights with servants, especially those who didn't bow low enough. Jiang Chen didn't move.
"Well, well," sneered Bai Yao. "The wild dog's still alive."
Liang Yi cracked his knuckles. "Heard you broke Senior Wu's jaw last month."
Sun Jing spat. "That bastard was soft. We're here to teach you proper manners."
Jiang Chen sighed.
"I'm not looking for trouble," he said calmly.
"That's good," said Liang Yi. "Because trouble found you."
They surrounded him.
Snow crunched under their boots. Bai Yao drew a short club. "Try that servant fist stuff on me, dog."
Jiang Chen stepped back into stance.
The Mountain Stance. Grounded. Balanced. Rooted.
His fists tightened.
They lunged.
And the snow turned red.