The posting was from an alchemist looking for a test subject for an experimental potion.
The address led to a narrow building that smelled like vinegar and something sweeter underneath — the kind of smell that doesn't quite belong together. A man sat inside at a cluttered table, not looking up from his notes.
"Are you here for the job?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Come with me then."
The room he led me to was small and bare except for a single chair in the center. He told me to sit. I did. He handed me a vial of something, then moved behind me and placed both hands flat against my back.
"Drink it. Then circulate your current cultivation technique."
The first few seconds were almost pleasant — a gentle warmth spreading through the meridians. Then the warmth became heat. Then the heat became something else entirely.
It felt like burning from the inside. My meridians strained like they were about to split open. The Iron-Bone method — bottom-tier, theoretical limit of the 2nd tier, never designed for this — couldn't process the energy fast enough. I pushed it as hard as it would go and it still wasn't enough.
The pain lasted longer than it should have. When it finally ended, my body was barely holding together. Behind me, the alchemist hadn't moved. Still writing, still muttering. "A decrease in Ingredient A is needed..."
He tossed me five silver without looking up and told me to leave.
My meridians were ruined — obvious enough without checking twice. No future in this body. A reset was coming. But first, worth seeing if the money could buy anything useful.
The technique shop ended that thought quickly. Every manual on display cost more than I'd ever earned in a month. Decent ones ran in the hundreds. The so-called trash tier sat at around fifty silver. Tier 3 wasn't even worth looking at. One option left: reset and hope the Iron-Bone method's theoretical limit was actually reachable.
Before going, I tried one last thing — a nearby tavern, sitting in a corner and listening. Nothing useful. Small talk, local gossip, things anyone already knew. Of course. Why would anyone say anything important in a common pub? The real information guilds charged prices I couldn't dream of.
That was it. Done.
System, reset.
The moment the words left my mouth the world stopped. Everything drained of color slowly — the walls, the street outside, the pale afternoon light. It didn't look like rewinding. It looked like the world was losing something. Then my consciousness went dark.