The dust of the Courtyard of Dawn tasted like ashes and ambition. Alaric lay where he had fallen, the cool, polished weight of the [Minor Qi Nourishment Pill] a secret against his palm. The bullies were gone, their laughter faded into the hum of the distant training grounds. For now, he was alone with his prize and the shimmering, silent interface hovering at the edge of his vision.
First things first, he thought, the analytical part of his mind—the part that had studied his own decay in a hospital bed—kicking in. Understand the tool.
Focusing on the [Status] tab, he willed it to open.
A detailed schematic of a human body, unmistakably his own, materialized. It was marked with ominous red lines along the meridians—the energy pathways that were the rivers of power in this world. His were not just blocked; they were canyons of jagged, spiritual scar tissue. A summary floated beside it:
User: Alaric (Azure Sky Sect - Outer Disciple)
Cultivation Base: Mortal Realm, Stage 0 (Qi Perception Unlocked)
Health Points (HP): 50/100 ⚠️ [Permanent Reduction: Congenital Meridian Damage]
Spiritual Energy (Qi): 0/10
Vitality (VIT): 4 - Affects HP, stamina, physical resilience.
Dexterity (DEX): 3 - Affects coordination, speed, technique execution.
Spirit (SPR): 7 - Affects Qi sensitivity, mental fortitude, willpower.
System Points: 5
The numbers were brutally low. The permanent HP cap was a chilling reminder of his vessel's broken state. Yet, the Spirit stat being his highest made a grim sense. It had taken immense will to survive Selwyn's Atrophy, and even more to take those ten steps. It seemed the system quantified that.
He switched to [Inventory]. A simple, grid-based space. The lone pill icon glowed in the first slot. Next to it was the crude wooden broom, listed as [Disciple's Broom - Common Tool]. Nothing else.
The [Map] was a wash of grey fog, with only a small area around the Courtyard of Dawn faintly illuminated. A tiny, pulsing blue dot represented him. At the edge of the cleared area, he saw labels: 'Outer Disciple Dormitories (East)', 'Refectory (North)', 'Basic Training Grounds (West)'. The rest—the majestic inner peaks, the forests, the unknown world beyond—was obscured by the mist of the unexplored.
Finally, the [Quest Log]. It currently held only one entry, now marked with a golden COMPLETE stamp: [First Steps of a Hero]. Below it was empty, waiting.
It was clean, intuitive, and devastatingly game-like. A comfort and a strangeness. This was the "guidance" the voice had promised. A way to quantify the unquantifiable journey of cultivation.
His eyes returned to the pill in his hand. According to his inherited memories, a Qi Nourishment Pill was meant to be taken during meditation, its energy gently guided through clear meridians to refine one's base and inch toward the next stage. For him, with his meridians shattered, it would be like pouring water into a shattered vase—most would spill uselessly, the rest would simply pool in the broken fragments, causing distension and pain.
But the system had given it to him. It must have a purpose.
Crawling to the shadow of a nearby wall, Alaric propped himself up. The system hadn't issued a new quest. This was his own initiative. The thought was strangely empowering.
Here goes nothing.
He popped the pill into his mouth. It dissolved instantly, not on his tongue, but in the very center of his being, a point below his navel that his new memories identified as the Dantian.
A warmth bloomed.
It was pleasant at first, like sunlight spreading through his chilled core. Then it began to move. The warmth became a trickle, then a stream of molten gold, seeking the pathways to flow through. It reached the first meridian fracture.
AGONY.
It was not the dull ache of his muscles or the sharp pain of a kick. This was a spiritual violation, a screeching, grating sensation as the pure, system-given Qi scraped against the jagged edges of his ruined channels. Alaric's back arched, a silent scream locked in his throat. His vision whited out. The cheerful blue system interface flickered with static.
He was a shattered pipe, and someone was forcing water through at high pressure. The Qi leaked out into his flesh, a burning, wasteful dispersion, but a stubborn thread of it pushed forward, driven by the pill's directive and his own desperate, clawing will. He could feel the damage in high-definition horror—every crack, every dead-end, every spiritual lesion.
But within the pain, there was a revelation.
He could perceive Qi.
It was the fundamental energy of this world, the breath of heaven and earth, and he had just ingested a concentrated drop of it. The process was torture, but it was also a map. The searing path of the pill's energy illuminated the ruined geography of his inner self. He knew, with terrifying intimacy, where the breaks were.
The torrent subsided. The pill's energy was spent, either integrated, wasted, or lost. Alaric slumped against the wall, drenched in a cold sweat, trembling violently. He felt hollowed out and scraped raw.
A notification chimed, soft and persistent.
[Alert: User has successfully processed external Qi source!]
[New Stat Unlocked: Qi Capacity−1/10]
[Passive Skill Unlocked]
[Qi Perception (Basic).You can now sense the flow of Qi within yourself and faintly perceive strong ambient Qi sources]
[Condition Updated: 'Meridian Damage' now includes detailed schematic.]
[Progressive repair now possible.]
He pulled up his Status again. The change was minor, monumental. Qi: 1/10. A single, fragile point of energy now resided in his Dantian, a spark in the void. The body schematic was more detailed, the red cracks now had faint, almost microscopic green dots along their edges—possible repair nodes?
The system had turned his body into a project. A broken, but now documented, project.
A new screen popped up, this one resembling a skill tree, but most branches were greyed out. At the very root, one icon was available: Meridian Weaving (Passive)−Lv.0. Its description read: Slowly converts ambient Qi and specific nutrients into spiritual sutures to mend minor meridian fractures. Progress is tied to VIT and SPR. 0.00% to next level.
So that was the path. Not a sudden fix, but a grueling, pixel-by-pixel reconstruction. It was daunting. It was also the only game in town.
As he sat there, the aftermath of the pain fading into a deep, throbbing ache, he tested his new Qi Perception. Closing his eyes, he focused inward. The single point of Qi in his Dantian was a dull, steady ember. The meridians were dark, painful trenches. But when he strained, pushing his awareness outward, he could feel… impressions. From the direction of the training grounds, a pulsing, aggressive heat. From the sect's central peak, a deep, mountain-like stillness. And all around, a thin, vaporous energy—the ambient Qi of the world itself. It was like seeing in a new, faint color.
A gruff voice shattered his concentration. "You. Alaric."
Elder Song stood a few feet away, his worn brown robes and permanently furrowed brow a familiar sight. He was a man ground down by decades of managing the sect's least talented, his kindness buried under layers of pragmatism.
"You missed the evening ration distribution. Again." He didn't sound angry, just weary. He tossed a small, hard loaf of bread and a strip of dried meat onto the ground beside Alaric. "Don't waste it. And if you're going to sleep, get to your bunk. Marcus and his lot are in a foul mood; they'll take it out on you if they find you here."
Alaric looked from the meager food to the Elder's retreating back. "Thank you, Elder Song," he said, his voice rough.
The Elder paused, glancing back. He looked at Alaric—really looked—noting the sweat, the tremor, the unusual alertness in the boy's eyes. It wasn't the blank stare of defeated misery he was used to. "Hmph. Just don't die. Paperwork is a hassle." He walked away.
Alaric picked up the food. As he did, a new quest window materialized, the text bright and inviting.
[New Daily Quest Generated!]
Quest: [Sustenance]
Objective: Consume your daily ration to recover strength.
Reward: HP regeneration +5 over next hour, +1 VIT (Temporary, 24 hrs).
Failure: None. But you'll be hungry!
A daily quest. A source of small, consistent rewards. This was how the game would be played. Not in epic leaps, but in tiny, agonizing, daily clicks of progress.
He took a bite of the tough bread. It tasted like sawdust and determination. As he chewed, he felt a faint warmth spread in his stomach, and a tiny, green +5 floated up from the corner of his vision. His HP ticked up to 51/100.
The number was insignificant. The meaning was everything.
In the gathering twilight, Alaric the Useless ate his bread, watched the first stars pierce the sky over the Azure Peak, and plotted the meticulous, system-assisted siege of his own broken body. The spark of Qi in his Dantian flickered, a solitary flag planted in conquered territory.