The path back to the village felt longer than ever. Lin Xuan's steps wavered, every muscle burning, his chest aching from the blow he had taken. His clothes clung to him, damp with sweat and streaked with blood, but he forced himself forward. The memory of the stranger's words echoed in his ears:
"The Eternal Veins are cursed."
Cursed. Shielded by the heavens. Desired by those who would kill for it.
He gritted his teeth and pressed on. Whatever this path was, he had already stepped onto it. There was no going back.
When he finally stumbled through the door of his family's hut, the familiar scent of wood smoke and herbs washed over him. His father, Lin Wei, looked up from sharpening his tools, eyes widening.
"Xuan! What happened to you?"
Lin Xuan's lips parted, but no words came. He collapsed, darkness swallowing him whole.
When he woke, the dim glow of an oil lamp lit the room. His father sat beside him, worry etched into his weathered face.
"You were gone all night," Lin Wei said softly. "Your body burns with fever, yet your wounds… they closed faster than they should have. Tell me the truth, Xuan. What happened in the mountains?"
Lin Xuan's mouth was dry. He wanted to tell his father everything—the jade, the voice, the stranger—but instinct warned him. His father was a good man, but an ordinary one. The less he knew, the safer he would be.
"I slipped near the shrine," Lin Xuan whispered. "A rockslide hit me. I must have fainted."
Lin Wei's frown deepened, but he said nothing more. He placed a bowl of steaming porridge at the bedside. "Eat. Rest. We'll speak later."
Lin Xuan obeyed. The warmth spread through him, steadying his breath. But even as he ate, his mind turned inward.
He could feel it. That faint golden current still coursed through his veins, stronger now than before. The Eternal Veins were alive within him, responding to his pain, his defiance, his will.
When his father finally left to tend the fields, Lin Xuan sat cross-legged on the bed, closing his eyes.
Calm yourself. Focus.
At first, there was only silence. His thoughts were scattered, his body sore. But slowly, slowly, the world faded away. His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed. And there—like a hidden river—he felt it again.
Qi.
Thin threads of it drifted through the air, almost imperceptible. He reached out with his mind, fumbling clumsily, like a child grasping at fireflies. Most slipped past him, but a single thread touched his veins, sinking into his blood.
His entire body shuddered. The golden current flared, weaving the thread into itself. For a brief moment, warmth suffused him, filling even the cracks of his weakness.
But the moment he lost focus, the thread vanished, slipping away like smoke.
Lin Xuan gasped, eyes flying open. His chest heaved, but his lips curved into a shaky smile.
"I did it. I drew Qi…"
It was clumsy, fragile, barely a spark—but it was real. The thing every healer had said was impossible, he had done.
He clenched his fists. "I can cultivate."
Days passed.
By day, Lin Xuan carried out his chores as always, chopping wood, fetching water, helping his father in the fields. By night, when the village slept, he returned to the shrine to practice.
He sat cross-legged on the cracked stone, breathing deeply, guiding his thoughts inward. The Eternal Veins responded, glowing faintly beneath his skin, shaping the scattered Qi threads into his body.
Each night, he grew a little stronger. His breathing steadied, his steps no longer wavered, and for the first time, he could walk the forest paths without coughing or fainting.
Yet it was not easy. Many nights ended with failure, his body wracked with pain as if the veins themselves burned. Sometimes he collapsed, drenched in sweat, the taste of blood on his lips.
But each time, he forced himself up again.
"I've lived as a cripple long enough," he whispered to the shrine one night. "If this path is pain, then I will endure it."
And the veins answered, golden light pulsing faintly like stars in his blood.
It was on the seventh night that something changed.
As he sat in meditation, the Qi around him stirred, stronger than before. His body trembled as a faint whirlpool formed at his core, pulling in strands of essence. His veins blazed with golden light, the flow steadying, shaping itself into something new.
With a sharp gasp, his eyes flew open. His senses sharpened. The night air was no longer just cool—it was alive. He could hear the distant flutter of bats, smell the dew on the grass, feel the pulse of life in the earth beneath him.
His heart thundered. This was no longer just touching Qi.
This was refining it.
He had taken his first true step onto the path of cultivation.
A laugh escaped his lips, shaky but filled with joy. "I did it… I'm a cultivator."
It was only the first stage—weak, unstable, fragile. Yet for Lin Xuan, who had lived his entire life as a cripple, it was everything.
The next morning, the change did not go unnoticed.
"Xuan, you look different," his father remarked as they worked the fields. "Your color is better. Your strength… greater."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "I've been training my body more. Maybe the mountain air is helping."
Lin Wei nodded approvingly, but his eyes lingered on his son, suspicion flickering beneath them.
Others in the village noticed too. The children who once mocked him now hesitated. Old He clapped him on the back and laughed. "Seems you've found your legs at last, boy!"
But Lin Xuan kept his secret close. He knew what waited beyond. The man in black had not been a dream. Others would come.
And so, he continued. Each night at the shrine, he refined his Qi, slowly building his foundation. Each day, he tested his growing strength, carrying heavier loads, running farther into the forest.
Hope bloomed in him, fierce and unyielding. For the first time in his life, he believed he could walk the path of immortality.
But even as he grew, danger was not far behind.
On the fourteenth night, as the moon hung low over the shrine, Lin Xuan sat cross-legged once more. His veins glowed with golden light, the flow of Qi smoother now, weaving itself into his blood.
Then—
Crack.
A sound echoed from the trees. A branch snapping. Too close.
Lin Xuan's eyes snapped open. His pulse quickened as he rose to his feet.
The mist thickened, curling around the shrine. Shadows shifted between the trees. Something moved—large, heavy, deliberate.
A low growl rumbled, vibrating the ground. Two burning eyes glared from the darkness, their gaze fixed on him.
Lin Xuan's heart pounded. His hands trembled. This was no villager. No illusion.
It was a spirit beast.
And it had come for him.