The Black Tusk Boar's body had already begun to cool. Its blood steamed in dark rivulets that fed the roots of the trees, and the smell of iron thickened the clearing until it stung my nose. In another world, in another life, I might have seen it as nothing more than a carcass. But here, in this world of cultivation, it was a beacon.
And beacons drew predators.
I crouched beside the corpse, my hand brushing against the cracked earth where my qi strike had landed. Faint traces of energy still clung there, like sparks fading from a fire. My Heavenly Root responded eagerly, greedily, as if demanding I feed it again.
But I resisted.
"Not yet," I murmured. My body trembled still from the backlash of refining the beast core. I could feel the storm of energy inside me settling, raw power threading into the foundation the Codex had shown me.
The System flickered across my vision, crisp as always:
[Realm Advancement: Qi Refining, Stage 1.]
[Status: Stabilizing. Residual Qi Overflow: 9%.]
[Warning: Foundation unstable. Continued exertion risks deviation.]
I let out a breath. "So even when I win, I'm a step away from killing myself."
The forest around me shifted with quiet menace. Already, I could hear the distant calls of carrion birds. Soon, other spirit beasts would smell the blood. I had to move. But my legs ached, my ribs throbbed, and every step reminded me of how fragile this new body still was.
I thought of the boy. His terrified eyes, the way he had stared not at the boar but at me. At my ears. My bloodline.
Word would spread.
Not about the beast, not even about the fight. But about an elf in the wilds—a relic, a ghost. A stranger who should not exist.
I clenched my jaw. The boy was young, weak, untrained. Would anyone even believe him? Perhaps not. But this world had taught me one truth already: whispers could be as dangerous as claws.
The Codex stirred within me, its golden lines unfurling again like ink across the void of my mind.
"Strength brings eyes. Eyes bring envy. The root that grows too bright in darkness is plucked before its bloom."
I swallowed hard. The words were not a warning. They were a promise.
Dragging myself upright, I pressed a palm against the boar's cooling flank. The beast core was gone, refined into me, but its body still thrummed faintly with qi-rich blood and flesh. In time, I would need to learn the cultivator's art of harvesting such things. For now, I could only leave it behind. To carry even a tusk would mark me as the one who killed it.
And I wasn't ready for that kind of attention.
The forest breeze shifted, carrying with it a faint chill. My senses prickled sharper than ever before—every rustle of branches distinct, every breath of air painted with new depth. The Heavenly Root was showing me a world I had never truly seen, even in my past life.
For the first time, I could almost taste the qi that lingered in the air. Threads of starlight waiting to be drawn, rivers just beneath the surface of reality.
It was intoxicating.
But with each taste came the reminder of how shallow my foundation was. When I pushed too hard, the energy slipped like water through open fingers.
The System's text sharpened into being once more:
[Tutorial Quest Generated.]
Objective: Stabilize your foundation. Practice circulation for at least 2 continuous hours.
Reward: +10 System Points.
Penalty: Risk of unstable breakthrough.]
I groaned. "Two hours? In this place?"
The Codex seemed to hum in agreement with the System, but the forest answered differently. Somewhere in the underbrush, leaves cracked beneath heavy weight. Not far. Too close for comfort.
My eyes swept once more to the boar's corpse. Flies were already beginning to gather. The scent of blood would spread for miles.
If I stayed, I would be surrounded by things far worse than a single low-rank beast.
I pulled in a breath, steadied my steps, and turned toward the deeper wilds.
For now, survival came first. Stabilization would have to wait.
And yet, even as I walked, my veins thrummed with a dangerous truth.
For the first time in centuries, I was not merely surviving.
I was growing stronger.
The deeper I went into the wilds, the more the world revealed its hidden veins.
Every step pressed me into a forest alive with qi. The bark of trees pulsed faintly with life essence, their roots stretching deep into the ground like silent conduits. Vines clung to stone not for sunlight, but to drink from the invisible currents that threaded the earth.
And I could see it.
Not with my eyes exactly, but with the new sense that had bloomed inside me when the Codex anchored its first layer. Wisps of starlight drifted through the underbrush, invisible rivers pulsed beneath the soil, and when I brushed my hand against the air, faint motes clung to my skin before dissolving back into nothing.
"This…" I whispered, flexing my hand. "So this is cultivation."
The System, as always, had a way of dulling the awe:
[Qi Sense: Activated.]
[Detection Range: 6 meters (expandable).]
[Note: Prolonged use increases fatigue until foundation stabilizes.]
I exhaled slowly. Six meters wasn't much, but it was enough to make me feel less blind in this predator's world.
I chose a clearing ahead, one ringed with moss and open sky. If I couldn't stabilize here, I would at least test what this new body was capable of.
Dropping my pack, I squared my stance and drew a slow breath. Qi stirred in response—still jagged, still wild, but obedient enough to gather in my limbs. The Heavenly Root welcomed it eagerly, like a beast that had been starved for too long.
I shifted my weight forward, punched toward a tree trunk, and released.
The strike landed with a faint ripple of force. Bark cracked, splinters scattering, though the tree stood firm. My knuckles stung, but I grinned through the ache. In my old body, that punch would have bruised my bones more than the wood.
Again.
This time I channeled more, drawing the warmth from my core into my arm before striking. The impact burst louder, shoving qi outward in a clumsy wave. Bark shredded in a rough circle, the trunk groaning beneath the force.
[Crude Qi Strike — Effectiveness: 23%. Efficiency: Poor.]
"Mock me later," I muttered, shaking out my arm. My control was lacking, but the potential was there.
Still, the Codex whispered its warning: Roots must deepen, else the branch will snap.
I could feel it. Every time I forced the qi outward, my channels ached, raw and fragile. Too much more and they would tear. I had power, yes—but it was like swinging an axe with no handle.
I turned my gaze skyward, the twilight deepening to indigo. Stars pierced through the veil, faint and far, yet I could almost hear them calling. This was what the Codex meant when it spoke of stone remembering the stars. Qi was not only here, in the earth and trees—it was above, infinite and untamed.
A rustle broke my reverie.
I froze.
The underbrush stirred thirty paces away, then stilled. No birds fled, no beasts charged. Just silence heavy enough to thicken the air.
I extended my qi sense, pulse racing. Within six meters, the world lit up—grass, stone, insects, all alive with faint sparks. Beyond that, the dark remained unbroken.
But I knew. Something was there. Watching.
"System," I breathed, "can you—"
[Unknown Entity Detected.]
[Range: 28 meters.]
[Analysis: Inconclusive. Qi signature suppressed.]
Cold sweat pricked the back of my neck. Suppressed? That meant whoever—or whatever—it was, had enough control to hide from weaker senses. Which meant it was stronger than me.
Much stronger.
The forest remained still, every shadow suddenly deeper. My hand hovered near the jagged branch I had carried earlier, though I knew it was useless against something that could cloak itself from my senses.
The Codex hummed faintly in my mind. Not a warning, not guidance—just a low vibration, as if recognizing the weight of unseen eyes.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure lifted. The presence vanished, slipping back into the wilds as though it had never been there.
The System dimmed its display:
[Threat Level: Unknown. Entity Withdrawn.]
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Whoever it was, they had chosen not to strike. That meant they were curious… or waiting.
Neither option comforted me.
I gathered my pack, shouldered it quickly, and left the clearing. The forest had reminded me of its truth once again—no matter how strong I thought myself becoming, I was still prey in a world full of hunters.
By the time the moon had risen high, the forest no longer looked alive but haunted. Silver light turned the leaves pale, and every branch creaked like old bones. My body still thrummed with the reckless qi I'd forced into it, every channel sore as if scoured raw.
I needed rest. Not just for my flesh, but for my foundation.
After another cautious mile, I found a hollow beneath a jutting stone ledge, half-hidden by moss. It smelled of damp earth and the faint musk of animals, but no fresh scat or tracks marked it. A den once, long abandoned.
I ducked inside and set my back against the wall. The space was narrow, barely enough for me to stretch my legs, but it would keep the wind off. The wild had no comfort to offer, only survival.
The Codex whispered the moment I sat: Anchor again. A tree unwatered will rot.
I closed my eyes and folded my legs beneath me, resting palms on my knees. The System flickered:
[Meditation Cycle Initiated.]
[Qi Reserves: 92%. Stabilization required.]
[Warning: Overuse may damage meridians.]
I breathed deep. The air tasted different at night—colder, thinner, but laced with faint threads of qi that seemed to drift down from the stars. I drew them in carefully, guiding them toward the dantian, anchoring them to the warm core I had forged from the beast's spirit.
It resisted at first, writhing like a nest of snakes. The overflow still churned, too wild to obey easily. Sweat beaded on my brow as pain flared in my ribs, my stomach, even behind my eyes. My body screamed to stop.
But I held firm.
Not by brute force. The Codex warned against that. Qi is water. To dam it is to break. To shape it is to endure.
So I didn't crush it. I let it flow. Slowly, like coaxing a wild beast with an open hand, not a whip.
Minutes stretched into hours. My legs numbed, my breath grew shallow, yet the storm inside began to settle. The wild surge dimmed, curling tighter into the dantian's center until it pulsed evenly, no longer tearing through fragile channels.
The System chimed at last, soft as if in approval:
[Qi Reserves Stabilized.]
[Meridian Strain Reduced by 34%.]
[Foundation: Secure (Fragile).]
I opened my eyes.
The world was sharper than before. Even in the dark, the outlines of the forest glowed faintly, as though my senses had sharpened past mere sight. Every drop of dew, every insect wingbeat in the air, every creak of shifting bark felt… alive.
For the first time since waking in this world, I did not feel like I was scrambling to survive. I felt like I was beginning to belong.
But peace was a thin cloak. Beneath it, unease lingered.
My hand rose to my ears, tracing the sharp points that marked me as what this world called extinct. An elf. To me, a birthright. To others? A legend, a prize, perhaps even a heresy.
The boy I had saved earlier—he had seen. He would talk.
The forest might be silent now, but whispers would spread faster than any spirit beast. About the golden-eyed stranger who fought with wild qi, who bore the features of a race long gone.
Would they hunt me? Reverence me? Fear me?
I clenched my fists, jaw tight. It didn't matter. Whether hunter or worshipper, they would come. And when they did, I would not be the frail, fading Sylas who watched his people perish.
I would be Caelum Xian.
A cultivator.
The Codex thrummed faintly, as though echoing my vow.
I lay back against the cold stone, letting exhaustion finally drag me under. The forest murmured around me—branches whispering, distant predators calling, the unseen presence from earlier still haunting my thoughts.
Sleep claimed me slowly, with the weight of new strength in my veins, new danger in my shadow, and the quiet certainty that the wilds had only begun to test me.
Tomorrow, the path would grow harsher.
Tomorrow, I would step further into it.