The Bone-Fist Pavilion was a dead-end sect, hidden in the ash-blanketed hills of the Slag Realm—where fallen clans and failed cultivators sent their last sons to rot.
Most disciples here trained only to survive.
Xu Shen trained to ascend.
At sunrise, while the others still slept, he stood barefoot in the cold, shirtless, sweat gleaming on his young body as he moved through ancient stances.
"Heaven-Forged Ironbone Sutra… Life #402."
Each motion snapped through the air—controlled, brutal, simple.
But his muscles screamed. His tendons tore. Blood wept from his knuckles as he struck the stone slab again and again.
The Ironbone Sutra was one of the first foundational body tempering arts he had learned—centuries ago, in a life where he'd been a bodyguard for a tyrant prince. It used pain as fuel, forcing bones to calcify under spiritual compression.
"Too slow."
His body was weak. A child's. He could only bring out maybe 3% of his former strength.
But even that was enough to surpass these Outer Disciples.
"Hey!"
Xu Shen stopped mid-motion.
It was Senior Brother Jian Wu, one of the top-ranked disciples among the Bone-Fist Pavilion's inner circle. Taller, broader, seventeen years old, and cocky beyond reason.
He walked over, surrounded by two younger lackeys.
"You've been waking up early, huh?" Jian said with a grin. "Trying to impress the elders with your fancy stretches?"
Xu remained silent.
Jian's grin widened. "Maybe I should help correct your posture. Like this—"
He lunged suddenly, aiming a fast palm at Xu's shoulder.
Xu stepped back—barely dodging.
Fast. No wasted movement. His chi flow is unrefined but potent. Qi Foundation Stage. Lower tier.
But Xu wasn't afraid. He had killed people like Jian in life #9 using only a toothpick and a bad attitude.
"I don't want to fight you," Xu said simply.
"Oh?" Jian raised a brow. "Afraid?"
"No. I'm just not ready yet."
That made Jian pause.
Then he laughed, loudly. "Fine! I'll give you a week, baby cultivator. Then you and me—sparring ring."
His eyes narrowed.
"Don't be late."
Later that night…
Xu Shen sat under the moonlight beside a cold river. His body was bruised, but he welcomed the pain.
He focused inward, breathing slow.
[Soul Depth: 2.4% unlocked]
[Ironbone Sutra: 18% integration complete]
[New Fragment Recovered — Life #621: Shadow Flame Footwork]
He grinned.
Now we're getting somewhere.
He activated the memory.
Flashes of movement flooded his mind—ghostly steps that left trails of black flame behind. A footwork technique designed for assassins and battlefield ghosts.
Xu Shen stood.
He leapt, twisted, glided across the grass like a blur. His feet left singed scorch marks in a line.
"Once I master this… Jian Wu won't touch me."
Meanwhile…
In the pavilion's inner hall, Elder Mo Lin sat with eyes closed. His spiritual sense scanned the courtyard—and paused.
He felt… something.
A ripple. Faint. Old. Dangerous.
"What is this aura…?"
"Like a storm buried under skin…"
His eyes snapped open.
"That boy… the one who beat Luo Jin…"
The next morning
Xu Shen walked into the main courtyard, dressed in plain robes, calm and unreadable.
Dozens of disciples surrounded the sparring ring.
Jian Wu stood at its center, cracking his knuckles. "Took you long enough, brat."
Xu said nothing.
He stepped into the ring.
Jian smirked. "Rules?"
"First blood," Xu replied.
Jian's smile grew. "Then get ready to bleed."
The gong sounded.
Jian moved first—swift and heavy. His chi surged around his palm as he came in low for a sweep-kick.
But Xu was already gone.
Ghost Step.
He flickered sideways, flames coiling at his heels, then struck Jian's back with the edge of his palm—just enough to sting.
Jian grunted, spun, lashed out with a burst of force—
CLANG.
Their arms collided. The crowd gasped.
Xu didn't budge.
Ironbone reinforced. Skin feels like steel. Pain is nothing.
Jian stepped back, confused. "What are you—?"
Xu didn't answer.
He dropped low, swept Jian's legs with a blazing spin, and delivered a clean elbow to the ribs.
Thwack!
Jian staggered.
Blood dripped from his nose.
The crowd went silent.
"I win," Xu said.
Later
The disciples whispered as Xu walked past them.
No one mocked him now.
He returned to his hut and sat beside the cold firepit, staring into the dark.
He wasn't done.
Not even close.
[Memory Sync: 3.1%]
[Life #77: The Bone-Wind Saber Style – Fragment recovered]
And somewhere, far across the realm, a golden scroll unfurled in a forgotten shrine.
A watcher stirred.
"He awakens."