The old bridge in the Nanping district was a relic of a forgotten era. Rust bled from its steel girders, and cracked concrete showed the rebar skeleton beneath. It spanned a murky, slow-moving river, a forgotten artery of the city that now only carried industrial runoff. It was here, at the stroke of noon, that Gao Qiang waited.
He felt ridiculously conspicuous. At six-foot-one and built like a young bull, he wasn't exactly the type to blend in. Every passing car made him flinch, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had followed the strange boy's instructions, telling the Hunter's Association investigators a half-baked story about hiding in a closet during the monster attack. They had looked at him with suspicion but were too busy with the larger chaos of the city's first official Gate rupture to press a terrified nineteen-year-old.
Now, under the pale midday sun, the events of the previous night felt like a fever dream. The chittering monsters, the screams, the scent of blood... and the boy. A teenager who moved like a phantom and killed with the efficiency of a god of war. Gao Qiang had replayed the scene in his mind a hundred times. The boy hadn't just been strong; he had been perfect. Every movement, every strike, had a purpose. It was a level of skill so far beyond anything Gao Qiang could comprehend that it bordered on the supernatural.
He had been offered a choice, and he had taken it. The memory of his own helplessness, the sheer terror of being overwhelmed while the children he swore to protect were in danger, was a fresh and bitter wound. He craved the power the boy had promised. He craved it more than anything.
A shadow fell over him. Gao Qiang hadn't heard a single footstep. He spun around, his muscles tensing, to find Wei Heng standing there. The boy was wearing a simple school uniform, looking utterly ordinary, yet his presence seemed to suck the warmth from the air. His eyes, calm and ancient, held no trace of teenage emotion.
"You came," Wei Heng stated. It wasn't a question.
"You said you could make me stronger," Gao Qiang said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.
"I can," Wei Heng replied, his gaze analytical, as if he were examining a piece of equipment rather than a person. "But strength comes with a price. I am not offering you a gift. I am offering you a contract."
He began to walk slowly across the bridge, forcing Gao Qiang to fall into step beside him. "I am building an organization. A force that will stand against the coming tide that you had a small taste of last night. You will be its first member. Its first pillar."
"What do you want from me?" Gao Qiang asked, getting straight to the point.
"Everything," Wei Heng said without a hint of melodrama. "Your time, your effort, your absolute and unquestioning loyalty. When I give an order, you will follow it. When I tell you to train, you will train until your bones ache. Your life, as you know it, is over. In its place, you will be forged into something new. Something worthy of the power you were born with."
The words were arrogant, domineering, yet they resonated with a strange truth within Gao Qiang. He did feel like he was born for more than hauling concrete and patrolling empty warehouses.
"And what do I get?"
"You get the power to ensure that no child in that orphanage will ever have to scream in terror again," Wei Heng said, his words striking the very core of Gao Qiang's motivation. "And you will no longer have to break your back at three different jobs to keep the lights on for them."
Wei Heng stopped and turned to face him. "I will provide you with a cultivation technique tailored to your body. It will unlock the potential sleeping within you. I will also provide for the orphanage. Completely. Their financial worries will be a thing of the past. All I ask for in return is your soul. Metaphorically speaking."
Gao Qiang stared at him, his mind reeling. It was an impossible offer. Cultivation techniques were mythical things, secrets held by the most powerful guilds and families, worth more than entire corporations. And to fund the orphanage? That would take millions.
"How...?"
Wei Heng raised a hand, cutting him off. "The 'how' is my concern. Your concern is only this: do you accept the terms?"
Gao Qiang thought of the director of the orphanage, a kind old woman who was always worrying about the next donation drive. He thought of the leaking roof, the old bunk beds, the constant struggle. He thought of his own powerlessness the night before. There was no choice to make. There never had been.
"I accept," he said, his voice firm.
A flicker of approval appeared in Wei Heng's eyes. "Good. Then your training begins now. The technique I have chosen for you is called the 'Unmoving Mountain Foundation Method.' It is designed for a physique like yours, one with a natural affinity for the earth. It will build a foundation of unparalleled resilience and strength."
Wei Heng instructed Gao Qiang to stand in a specific stance, correcting his posture with a few precise touches that sent jolts of energy through his body. "Now, breathe. Not with your lungs, but with your entire body. Feel the energy in the air, on the ground. Draw it into yourself."
Gao Qiang tried, closing his eyes and concentrating. He felt... nothing. Just the humid air and the rumble of distant traffic.
"You are a clogged pipe trying to draw water from a river," Wei Heng said, his voice laced with clinical impatience. "Your meridians are blocked. We will open the first gate."
Before Gao Qiang could ask what he meant, Wei Heng placed a single finger on the center of his back. A surge of energy, warm and incredibly potent, shot into his body. It was not a violent force, but a precise, guided current that felt like a hot wire tracing a path through his insides. The pain was sharp, intense, and he grunted, his body seizing up. He felt something... pop. A blockage giving way.
And then, he felt it. A trickle of warmth began to flow through him, a sensation he had never experienced before. It was a feeling of vitality, of latent power stirring from a long slumber.
"Breathe," Wei Heng commanded again.
This time, when Gao Qiang followed the instructions, he could feel it. A faint wisp of energy from the world around him was drawn into his body, joining the warm current Wei Heng had created. It was minuscule, but it was real.
"Practice this stance and this breathing for four hours every day. No exceptions," Wei Heng instructed, removing his finger. Gao Qiang stumbled, his legs trembling from the strain and the new sensation.
"Now, for the second part of our agreement." Wei Heng pulled out a cheap, disposable burner phone. He tapped the screen a few times. "The Fuzhou City Orphanage No. 3 has a public donation account. Correct?"
Gao Qiang nodded, still trying to catch his breath.
"Watch." Wei Heng showed him the screen. It was a banking transfer interface. He typed in the orphanage's account number and then, in the amount field, he typed a number that made Gao Qiang's brain short-circuit.
¥1,000,000.
"This is an initial donation," Wei Heng said calmly, as if he were buying a soda. "It will be transferred from an anonymous, untraceable offshore account. It will cover immediate repairs and operational costs for the next few years. More will be provided as needed."
He pressed 'confirm.' A small loading icon spun for a moment, and then a green checkmark appeared. 'Transfer Successful.'
Gao Qiang stared at the screen, his eyes wide with disbelief. One million yuan. Just like that. It was a sum of money he couldn't have earned in a hundred lifetimes of back-breaking labor. It was a miracle.
"Quit your jobs," Wei Heng said, putting the phone away. "All of them. Your only job now is to train. Find a secluded place to practice where you won't be disturbed. I will contact you when I have your next instructions. Do not try to contact me. Do not speak of me to anyone. Do you understand?"
Gao Qiang could only nod, his throat too tight to speak.
"Good," Wei Heng said. He gave Gao Qiang one last, assessing look. "Do not disappoint me, Titan. The fate of this world may very well rest on your shoulders one day."
And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the midday crowd as if he were just another student heading home from school.
Gao Qiang stood alone on the bridge for a long time, the world spinning around him. His back ached where Wei Heng had touched him, a dull pain that was overshadowed by the warm current of Qi still circulating within him. His mind was still reeling from the impossible sum of money he had just seen transferred. He pulled out his own cheap phone and, with trembling fingers, called the orphanage director.
"Director Chen? It's Gao Qiang... Yes, I'm fine... Could you... could you do me a favor and check the orphanage's bank account?"
He listened, his heart pounding, as the old woman on the other end went from confused, to surprised, to utterly hysterical.
He ended the call and looked down at his own hands. They were calloused and scarred from years of hard labor. But for the first time, he felt a new kind of power thrumming within them. It was not just the raw strength he had always possessed, but something deeper, something more profound. He had made a pact with a boy who was more than a boy, for a cause he did not yet understand. But he understood the result. The children were safe. They were provided for.
He clenched his fists, the lingering warmth of Qi flaring within him. A fire had been lit in his heart. He was no longer just Gao Qiang, the laborer. He was the first pillar. He was Titan. And his work had just begun.