Ethan slept like a man who hadn't expected to live long enough to need sleep again.
He hadn't meant to. At some point, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to the wall and his boots still on, he'd closed his eyes "for a minute." The city's distant hum had blended with the soft whirr of the apartment's ventilation, and the weight of the last few hours dragged him under.
When he opened his eyes, gray light pressed through the balcony curtains.
For a moment, he didn't move.
The ceiling above him wasn't stained plaster; it was smooth, white, and uncracked. The mattress beneath him was firm. His chest didn't burn. His side didn't ache where a rib had broken years ago and never quite healed right.
His hand went automatically to his shirt.
He'd peeled off the blood-stiff hoodie before collapsing. Now, his fingers brushed clean cotton and the flat, unbroken plane of his chest.
No holes. No bandages. No hospital smell.
He sat up slowly.
The room was exactly as he remembered: neat, minimally furnished, a blank canvas. Through the narrow gap in the curtains, he could see a slice of the river, a gray ribbon under the pale sky.
For a second, the events of the previous night felt like a fever dream.
Then the System chimed in his head.
[Host consciousness restored.]
[Time elapsed since last activity: 7 hours 13 minutes.]
[Physical condition: Stable.]
The voice didn't sound groggy. It never did.
Ethan exhaled, tension loosening slightly from his shoulders. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and set his feet on the cool floor.
He waited.
Pain didn't shoot up his legs. His lungs didn't seize. His vision stayed clear.
"Still alive," he murmured.
He moved through the apartment with careful, deliberate steps. Bathroom. Sink. Mirror.
The face staring back at him was his own—sharp jaw, short dark hair in need of a cut, faint lines at the corners of his eyes from squinting into sun and smoke. There was a bruise shadowing his jaw from where someone's fist had connected during the staged "robbery," but the mottled purple was already fading around the edges.
He wiped a palm over his face, then turned the tap and splashed cold water onto his skin.
It felt real.
He straightened, water dripping from his chin, and watched his reflection.
"Explain," he said.
The System obliged.
[Current Tier: Pre-Awakening.]
[Musculoskeletal damage and internal trauma repaired using emergency stabilization protocol.]
[Latent potential identified: Urban Meridian compatibility — High.]
Lines of text scrolled past in his mind's eye, crisp and orderly.
[Earliest recommended step: Mortal Awakening.]
[Upon successful awakening, Host will begin active cultivation and unlock additional System functions.]
"Awakening," Ethan repeated. "What does that involve?"
A diagram blossomed in front of him, transparent over the bathroom mirror. It was an outline of a human body made of thin white lines, surrounded by faint silhouettes of buildings and roads.
[Standard Mortal Awakening:
– Sense and guide qi into body.
– Open first meridians.
– Stabilize foundation.]
[Urban Meridian Variant:
– Sense and guide urban qi (collective human activity, electrical flow, ambient spiritual residue) through city veins.
– Bind initial meridians to urban nodes under Host control.
– Establish feedback loop between Host and city.]
The white outline lit up at certain points: between the eyebrows, the center of the chest, the soles of the feet. Simultaneously, tiny lights flared on a ghostly map of the city—three of them brighter than the rest.
Ethan recognized one of them instinctively.
"Here," he said. "This building."
[Correct.]
[Primary Node: Riverside Micro-Condominium – Unit 1907 (Bound).]
[Secondary Node: Eastern Commercial District – Service Alley B-17 (Initial sign-in site; unbound).]
[Tertiary Node: Western Block 23 – Family Diner (Influence: Weak).]
The alley where he'd almost died. The diner he'd helped the previous night.
"Urban qi," he said slowly. "You're telling me this city has… energy I can use."
「All cities do,」 the System replied. 「This one is… unusually rich.」
He remembered the glowing lines under the asphalt, the way they'd pulsed when he'd accepted the first sign-in.
"And the clans?" he asked. "The people like Marcus. They know about this?"
A brief pause.
[Certain families and organizations possess partial knowledge of spiritual veins and basic cultivation methods.]
[They utilize traditional paths: mountain meridians, sect formations, ancestral altars.]
[Urban Meridian Path is rare.]
"It's not sect-approved," Ethan said, recalling the phrase. "Deviant."
「Effective,」 the System corrected. 「Especially here.」
He couldn't argue with that. He was standing in a luxury apartment taken from his would-be killer without lifting a pen.
He turned away from the mirror and padded barefoot into the living area. The city was waking up outside: distant horns, the low murmur of traffic, the hiss of buses at curbside. The sound filtered up through glass and concrete, softened but present.
"Fine," he said. "Let's say I believe you. How do I… start? I've seen enough movies to know this is the part where I sit cross-legged and breathe, right?"
[Correct in essence, flawed in method.]
[Standard cultivation relies on external spiritual energy and internal qi circulation.]
[Urban Meridian Path modifies this: Host will draw from city activity and convert compatible frequencies into usable qi.]
A new line appeared.
[Beginner Protocol: Urban Awakening (Level 1).]
[Requirements:
– Stable Safe Zone (met).
– Host consciousness focus (available).
– Minimal external disturbances (sufficient).]
[Estimated time to initial awakening: 30–90 minutes.]
That didn't sound so bad. He'd done stakeouts that lasted days.
"What happens if I fail?" he asked.
[Outcome spectrum:
– No effect.
– Temporary fatigue.
– Minor headache.]
[Probability of catastrophic failure: 0.02%.]
He'd faced worse odds on a Tuesday.
"Let's do it."
The System highlighted a spot in the room—the middle of the living area, where the lines of the apartment intersected most densely.
[Optimal position identified.]
Ethan moved the small coffee table aside, creating a clear space on the polished floor. He lowered himself into a seated position, legs crossed, back straight against the unseen weight of habit and training.
"Like this?" he asked.
[Acceptable.]
[Step 1: Breathing Regulation.]
[Inhale slowly for four counts.
Hold for four.
Exhale for six.]
The instructions unfurled in simple, steady beats. He'd done box breathing drills during firefights to keep his hands steady; this wasn't new. What was new was the soft thrum beneath him—the awareness of something flowing under the building, under the street, under the city.
He closed his eyes.
"Inhale," he murmured.
Air filled his lungs, cool and a little dry from the climate control. He held it, counting in his head. Exhaled, longer than he'd breathed in, letting his shoulders loosen.
Again.
Again.
The background noise of the city faded by degrees. The refrigerator's hum, the faint buzz of electricity in the walls, the distant whoosh of cars—all of it blurred into a steady, low heartbeat.
[Step 2: Shift awareness to contact points.]
[Feel the floor beneath you.
The air against your skin.
The sounds beyond the walls.]
He did. It was second nature—situational awareness, the kind that had kept him alive through gunfire and explosions. Only this time, instead of cataloguing threats, he let the impressions wash through him.
Floor: solid, faintly cool.
Air: still, tinged with river damp and the chemical tang of cleaning products.
Sounds: muffled footsteps in the hallway, an elevator door sliding open somewhere, a horn far below.
[Step 3: Extend awareness downward.]
[Imagine roots from your spine and legs sinking through the floor, into the building structure, into the ground below.]
It felt hokey, but he'd done stranger drills for private contractors with too much money and too many ideas about "mind over matter." He pictured it anyway: dark threads unspooling from his body, slipping through concrete and rebar, seeping into soil and stone.
As he did, something met him.
Not imagination. Not entirely.
A faint current brushed against his awareness, like a slow-moving river. It was broad and sluggish, but undeniably there. It carried with it impressions: the weight of cars rolling overhead, the vibration of trains, the echo of thousands of footsteps.
Urban qi.
The moment he acknowledged it, the current brightened. Tiny sparks flickered along its surface, responding to his attention.
[Contact established.]
[Step 4: Gentle draw.]
[Do not pull sharply.
Invite a thread of energy upward along the imagined roots, into your body.]
Ethan focused on a point low in his abdomen, as the diagram had shown. He pictured a thin stream of light rising along the roots he'd extended, flowing up from the city's invisible river into that point.
Nothing happened.
He adjusted, remembering how he'd learned to feel the kickback of a rifle through not just his shoulder, but his whole frame. Awareness, not force.
The second time, he felt it: a cool, tingling presence sliding up, hesitant but responsive. It reached his lower abdomen and pooled there, like a drop of water on dry ground.
The sensation was… clean. Not like adrenaline or caffeine. Sharper, quieter. It made the hairs on his arms rise.
[Qi entry confirmed.]
[Warning: Host meridians currently unopened.
Initial circulation will be guided by System.]
He felt a slight pressure behind his sternum, then a cool line traced itself up his spine, over his shoulders, down his arms. It was like being lightly brushed with ice from the inside. Wherever it passed, tension eased and awareness sharpened.
A faint headache bloomed at his temples, then faded.
"Feels weird," he muttered, keeping his breathing steady.
[Step 5: Repeat gently.]
[Draw, pool, release.
Limit: Three cycles during first session.]
He did as instructed.
Each cycle brought another thin trickle of that cool energy up through his imagined roots, into his center, then guided it through his body under the System's direction. By the third, the sensation of the city's current had become easier to find, as if it recognized him now and didn't need coaxing.
The System chimed.
[Initial accumulation reached.]
[Executing Mortal Awakening protocol.]
The energy pooled in his lower abdomen all at once, more of it than he thought he'd drawn. For a split second, he felt bloated, swollen with a presence that didn't belong.
Then it detonated.
Not outward—there was no flash, no blast. It burst inward, like a firecracker in a sealed box. A shockwave of sensation rippled through him, snapping along unseen lines.
He gasped, eyes flying open.
The apartment remained unchanged—the same walls, the same furniture—but everything felt sharper. The texture of the floor under his fingertips, the hum in the air, even the faint scent of dust in the corners he hadn't noticed last night.
[Meridian nodes 1–3: Opened (Weak).]
[Basic qi circulation: Established.]
[Congratulations.
Tier 1 – Mortal Awakening achieved.]
The words hung in his vision like a quiet announcement.
He drew in a breath.
The air felt… thicker. Not in a suffocating way, but as if he could taste more in it—traces of metal, engine exhaust, river moisture, faint threads of something warmer and older that had nothing to do with modern life.
His hearing hooked onto sounds he hadn't noticed before: the individual tick of a hallway clock outside, the distant thud of a door on a lower floor, the murmur of a TV somewhere in the building.
He flexed his fingers. Strength hummed under his skin—not dramatic, not explosive, but clean and ready.
"Is this what all cultivators feel?" he asked quietly.
[In principle, yes.]
[However, your qi is attuned to urban frequencies.
Effects will differ from traditional mountain- or forest-based paths.]
He stood slowly.
No dizziness. No weakness. A mild thrum in his veins, like the afterglow of a long, satisfying run without the ache.
[Status Update:]
[Tier: 1 – Mortal Awakening.]
[Qi: 3/10 (Beginner).]
[Attributes:
– Strength: Slightly above average.
– Speed: Slightly above average.
– Perception: Above average within urban environment.]
A new line appeared.
[New Function Unlocked: Territory Sense (Level 1).]
[Within a radius of 50 m around bound nodes, Host can passively sense disturbances, threats, and abnormal spiritual fluctuations.]
As he read it, a subtle map pressed against his awareness: the immediate layout of his floor, the apartments on either side, the corridor outside. He couldn't see through walls, but he could feel the presence of moving bodies—soft pulses, each different.
Someone in 1905 pacing back and forth. A pair in 1909 still asleep, breathing slow. An elevator cable shivering as the car moved on a different floor.
Below all that, like a deeper note under a song, the spiritual vein under the tower pulsed in time with his own breath.
"This is… a lot," he admitted.
「You will adapt,」 the System said. 「Humans are extremely adaptable organisms.」
"Flattering."
He moved to the window again.
The city looked the same. Cars, buses, pedestrians, the river. Yet as he watched, he saw more: faint trails of residual energy in the air where crowds were densest, a slightly brighter glow around intersections where traffic converged, a pale haze above the river where mist clung to the water.
And, faintly, high above the far side of the city, something else—a thin, vertical ripple in the sky, like heat over asphalt but standing still. When he focused on it, text flickered into view.
[Spatial Anomaly: Stable.
Function: Gate (Outbound).]
[Access requirements: Organ Tempering (Tier 3) or equivalent.]
[Destination: Upper Realm – Cultivation World (restricted).]
The words sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with qi.
He'd heard whispers among contractors and security details—rumors about "people who disappeared upward," about families whose promising children were suddenly "sent abroad" and never spoken of again. He'd filed them with ghost stories and conspiracy theories.
Now, a doorway to somewhere else hovered in his perception like a barely opened eye.
"Organ Tempering," he said softly. "Tier 3."
[Correct.]
[Standard rule: Mortal Realm cultivators reaching Organ Tempering may transfer to the Cultivation World.]
[Standard rule: Return restricted to Domain Lord (Tier 6) or higher.]
A new line slid under the others, its lettering crisper, edged with an authority he hadn't felt from the System before.
[Exception Protocol: Urban Sovereign Host.]
[When Host reaches Organ Tempering, bi-directional transit between Mortal Realm and Cultivation World will be available.]
He stared at the distant ripple in the sky until his eyes ached.
"Free travel," he said. "Up and down."
[Within System-defined limits, yes.]
"In other words," he murmured, "everyone else gets one ticket out. No return. If they want to come back, they have to climb to Tier 6 or find someone who has."
[Correct.]
"And I… get a shuttle pass at Tier 3."
[Analogy imperfect, but functionally accurate.]
He let out a breath.
"You don't do anything halfway, do you?" he asked.
「Your role is not halfway.」
He turned from the window.
"Then before we talk about going anywhere," he said, "we make sure I survive here."
The System hummed in what he was starting to interpret as approval.
[Recommended next steps:]
[1. Test physical enhancements.
2. Conduct Territory Sense calibration around building.
3. Secure additional influence node (suggested target: Family Diner – Western Block 23).]
Influence.
He thought of the diner's owner, of his tired eyes and stubborn pride. Of the loan sharks kneeling in the street. Of the way the System had marked that place as a weak node.
"We go to the diner," he decided. "If I'm going to be… whatever you want me to be, I'm not starting from a tower."
He glanced at the closet, where he'd hung the hoodie to dry. The bloodstains on the hem were dark and stiff, a silent reminder.
"First, though," he added, "I need different clothes."
The System did not comment.
He got dressed—jeans that weren't ripped, a plain dark T-shirt, a jacket that didn't scream "security guard off-shift." He slipped the keycard into his pocket and paused at the door.
As his fingers closed around the handle, a familiar question surfaced.
"You're sure," he said quietly, "that if I go down this path, there's no halfway back to normal?"
The System's answer was simple.
[Host's previous normal was terminated in Service Alley B-17.]
[Forward is the only remaining direction.]
He huffed out something that might have been a laugh.
"Yeah," he said. "That's about right."
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
As he walked toward the elevator, the building's heart beat against his senses, steady and strong. The city waited beyond, veins humming, lights flickering, secrets hidden behind glass and stone.
Ethan Cole—ex-Gravehound, discarded bodyguard, new owner of an apartment he shouldn't have been able to afford—took the elevator down.
Tier 1. Mortal Awakening.
The first step in a city that suddenly had far more than streets and skyscrapers to offer.