Morning broke with the cries of roosters and the creak of carts rolling across the dirt paths of Azure Mist Village. Farmers strapped baskets to their backs, women hauled water, and children chased each other between the huts.
Lin Xuan rose early, muscles stiff but humming with energy. The night of cultivation still echoed in his veins, a warmth that refused to fade. Though his Qi was faint—just a spark compared to true cultivators—it was enough to change everything.
He dressed quickly and stepped outside. His father, Lin Wei, was tightening the straps of his carrying frame, preparing to head into the Cloudshadow Mountains for timber.
"You're up early again," Lin Wei said, glancing at him. "Yesterday you worked hard. You should rest your body, Xuan."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "I want to help more, Father. Truly. I feel… better these days."
Lin Wei studied his son's face. He had long grown used to seeing him pale, wheezing, too weak to stand after minor chores. But now there was color in his cheeks, and his eyes seemed brighter, sharper. Lin Wei's brows furrowed in thought, but he said nothing.
"Well then," he said at last, handing him a smaller axe. "If you truly feel stronger, come with me. We'll see what you can manage."
The path into the Cloudshadow Mountains was steep and winding. Lin Xuan followed his father carefully, each step deliberate. In the past, even the journey would have left him gasping. Today, though sweat dampened his brow, he kept pace.
His father glanced back more than once, surprise flickering in his eyes, but he did not speak.
When they reached the logging grounds, the other men were already at work. Axes rose and fell in steady rhythm, echoing through the forest. Piles of cut wood lay stacked like small walls.
"Lin Wei!" one of the men called. "Brought the boy, eh? Careful, or he'll faint before he swings twice!"
Laughter followed, good-natured but sharp. Lin Xuan felt the old shame prickle in his chest, but he swallowed it. He had endured worse.
Lin Wei only grunted. "Let him try. A man must learn through work."
Lin Xuan set his jaw and approached a log nearly half his height. The men watched with mild amusement, expecting him to struggle as always.
He raised the axe. His arms trembled slightly, but strength surged from the faint Qi in his veins. The axe came down—
Crack!
The log split clean.
Silence followed.
Lin Xuan didn't pause. He set another log, lifted, and struck. Crack! Another clean split.
A murmur rippled through the men.
"Wasn't this boy too weak to hold a bucket last week?"
"His arms… they don't shake as before."
"Maybe Lin Wei's been feeding him wild ginseng!"
Lin Wei's eyes narrowed, but pride shone beneath his stoic mask. For the first time in years, his son looked like he belonged among the men.
Lin Xuan continued, sweat dripping but determination unbroken. Each swing fed his spirit, each crack of splitting wood hammered away the chains of his past. For once, he was not the cripple, not the weakling.
He was climbing.
By midday, he had split more logs than ever before. His arms ached, but inside, he felt only joy. The Qi within him pulsed faintly with every breath, healing the small strains, strengthening his resolve.
As the men rested and ate, Zhou Liang arrived.
The headman's son swaggered into the clearing, spear slung across his back, his grin wide. He was not here to work—Zhou Liang rarely dirtied his hands. Instead, he came to boast, as always.
"Another good hunt today!" he announced, tossing a brace of rabbits onto the ground. "Father says my aim is sharper than the village guards already. By next spring, I'll be training with real cultivators."
The men clapped politely, offering words of praise. Zhou Liang soaked in the admiration, then his eyes landed on Lin Xuan.
And narrowed.
"Well, well," he said loudly. "What's this? The cripple with an axe? Don't tell me you actually managed a log."
The men shifted uneasily. Some had seen Lin Xuan's work with their own eyes, but no one wanted to provoke the headman's son.
Lin Xuan said nothing, lowering his gaze. But Zhou Liang strode closer, grabbing one of the freshly split logs and examining it.
His smirk faltered. The cuts were clean. Too clean.
"You didn't do this," Zhou Liang sneered after a pause. "Your father must have helped you. You think you can fool us?"
Lin Wei's voice was sharp. "I watched him with my own eyes, Zhou Liang. My son split those logs."
Murmurs rose again. Zhou Liang's face darkened. Being contradicted in front of the men, especially by Lin Wei, stung his pride.
He stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Lin Xuan. "If you're so capable, then prove it. Chop this."
He pointed to a massive log, thick as a man's waist. Even seasoned woodcutters struggled with such timber. Zhou Liang's grin returned, confident that Lin Xuan would fail and humiliate himself.
The men exchanged uneasy glances. Lin Wei started to protest, but Lin Xuan raised his hand.
"I'll do it."
He stepped forward. His heart raced, but not with fear—with determination. He had something now, something he refused to bury beneath ridicule.
He planted his feet, lifted the axe, and drew on the faint golden thread in his veins. His body screamed with strain, but the energy flowed, steadying his grip, adding weight to his strike.
The axe fell.
CRACK!
The log split cleanly in two.
Gasps erupted. Men surged to their feet. Zhou Liang's smirk vanished, replaced by shock.
Lin Xuan staggered, sweat pouring, but he straightened, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
For a heartbeat, the forest was silent. Then Lin Wei laughed, deep and proud. "Did you see? My son did it with his own strength!"
The men erupted in shouts of amazement. Some clapped Lin Xuan on the back, others muttered in disbelief. The cripple had just accomplished what even strong men found difficult.
Zhou Liang's face flushed red. His pride cracked under the weight of the moment. He spat on the ground.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, cripple. So you split a log—what of it? You'll never be more than a weakling. Remember your place."
But his words rang hollow. Everyone had seen. Everyone knew.
Lin Xuan met Zhou Liang's glare, and for the first time, he did not look away. His gaze was steady, unyielding.
That night, back in the hut, Lin Wei could not stop smiling. He cooked a richer meal than usual, even humming as he stirred the pot.
"You did well today, Xuan," he said warmly. "For years, I feared… but today you made me proud. Whatever comes, you've shown me your spirit is strong."
Lin Xuan ate quietly, but inside his chest burned with a fire fiercer than ever. He had proven, if only in small measure, that he was not useless. He had touched Qi, and already his life was changing.
When his father slept, Lin Xuan slipped away again to the shrine. He could not rest. The scripture called to him, urging him forward.
He sat cross-legged, guiding Qi through his veins. The cycles came easier now, though pain still wracked his body with each attempt. His blood burned, but he endured, gritting his teeth.
Hours passed. The golden thread grew steadier, brighter. Slowly, he felt his dantian throb with new strength, as if a tiny seed had taken root.
And then—
A sound cut through the night.
Not the voice of the jade, not whispers of mystery, but something real, tangible: a rustle in the underbrush nearby.
Lin Xuan froze. The shrine was supposed to be abandoned, a forgotten corner of the village. Yet the sound came again—closer this time. Leaves crunching, branches snapping, deliberate steps.
He rose slowly, heart hammering, hand tightening around the small axe he had carried from the forest. His body was tired, but his senses sharpened, the faint Qi coursing in his veins making him alert.
From the edge of the trees, a figure emerged.
Not an animal. Not a villager.
It was a man in dark robes, face shadowed beneath a wide hat. His steps were silent now, his presence heavy, like stone pressing down on the air. He stopped a few paces from Lin Xuan and regarded him in silence.
Lin Xuan swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "Who… are you?"
The man tilted his head, and though his face was hidden, Lin Xuan felt the weight of his gaze pierce through him.
Finally, the stranger spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying a power that made Lin Xuan's skin prickle.
"You should not have awakened here, boy."