The morning sun cut through the curtains, painting Liang Chen's room in soft golden light. He sat cross-legged at his small desk, grinding herbs with careful precision.
Each movement was deliberate, every motion a meditation in itself. The pulse of spiritual energy in his dantian had strengthened slightly, though it was still faint and easily hidden from the world.
Today was a school day like any other, but Liang Chen felt subtly sharper. His senses had improved — he noticed the way a classmate's pen clicked nervously, the faint tremor of footsteps on the stairs, the smell of damp earth outside before anyone else mentioned the rain. These were small, almost invisible things, but they reminded him: the body responded to energy, even in small doses.
During lunch, he noticed a classmate struggling with a pile of books. Without hesitation, he approached.
"Here, I'll help," he said, lifting the heaviest stack.
The girl blinked at him in surprise. "Oh… thank you."
Liang Chen handed her the books. "No problem. You'll strain yourself if you try to carry them all at once."
She smiled, relief in her eyes, and said, "You're always so calm… like nothing ever bothers you."
Liang Chen's lips curved faintly. Calm was a choice. Observation, patience, discipline — these were all tools he had learned to wield in another life. And now they are mine again.
After school, he returned to his small workshop. Grinding herbs, mixing powders, and preparing pills had become a rhythm. Each batch he created not only earned him a little money but also allowed him to practice focus and refine his control over the faint spiritual energy that pulsed within him.
He experimented quietly, combining ingredients in new ways, watching how his body reacted.
A subtle warmth in his limbs when he held certain herbs, a tingling awareness in his fingers as he ground others. Each reaction was a clue, a map of how to awaken his Energy Sea fully.
Later, he helped the girl's family again, carrying groceries, organizing supplies, and giving small tips on minor household matters. Each act of kindness reinforced a quiet satisfaction — not from recognition, but from the sense that he could make a difference, even without superpowers or cultivator-level strength yet.
At night, Liang Chen sat by the window, observing the city lights. He flexed his fingers, feeling the slight increase in speed and dexterity his body had gained from meditation and herbal experimentation. His energy pulse responded immediately, a gentle thrum like the first beat of a drum, steady and promising.
In the quiet, he reflected: Slow progress is still progress. The world isn't changed by leaps, but by steps. Every day, every action, every pill, every kindness — they are bricks in the foundation of a life that will become stronger than anyone imagines.
And in the faint glow of the dantian, he felt it — the first real spark of potential, small but undeniable. A seed of power that, nurtured carefully, would grow into something unstoppable.
Chapter Ending Quote:
"True strength grows in silence, in patience, and in deeds that no one witnesses — but the soul always remembers."