The morning after Adam's breakthrough, Bai Village was quieter than usual.
The wind blew softly through the frost-covered trees. Smoke rose in lazy trails from chimneys, and the distant calls of livestock drifted through the air. But at the edge of the training grounds, in a wooden hut built by weathered hands and stubborn will, Adam lay in his bed, asleep for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
He didn't stir until midday.
His body was sore—sore in a different way, not from damage, but from rebuilding. Every muscle felt denser, stronger. His breathing had changed. Slower. Deeper. As if his lungs had more room now, as if the very air welcomed him differently.
He sat up slowly, blinking at the sunlight filtering in through the wooden slats.
He wasn't dreaming. He had done it. He had finally crossed the threshold.
He had become… a martial artist.
---
Old Bai was sitting outside the hut, smoking from a long pipe. He turned toward Adam as he stepped out, wrapped in a thick cloak.
"You slept like a corpse," the old man said without looking at him.
"I feel like I died," Adam muttered, rubbing his face. "And came back stronger."
Old Bai chuckled, eyes squinting against the sun. "That's not far from the truth."
For a while, they sat in silence. The village passed by slowly—children playing in the snow, women carrying water, men tending to livestock or chopping wood. Life moved on, unaware of the transformation that had taken place the night before.
"Old Bai," Adam said at last, "what happens now?"
"You keep going," Bai replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Becoming a martial artist is only the beginning."
"I thought I'd feel more… different," Adam admitted. "But I still feel like me."
"That's good," Old Bai said with a nod. "You should feel like you. Power doesn't make you someone else. It only reveals who you've always been."
---
Word of Adam's breakthrough spread faster than snowmelt in spring. By afternoon, Instructor Lin arrived in person, accompanied by a few other senior martial artists from the village.
They stood before Adam with unreadable expressions. Lin, in particular, studied him for a long time before speaking.
"I expected this from the beginning," he finally said. "But not after five years."
Adam bowed his head. "I apologize for—"
"No," Lin interrupted. "I mean it. Most would have given up, most actually did give up. What you've done is rare… even among geniuses. You lacked talent, but you had something much more valuable: resolve."
Behind Lin, a few nodded in agreement.
"You are now officially a Tier 3 martial artist," Lin said. "Your body has begun to absorb and refine dark matter. You'll begin to feel physical changes soon; faster healing, denser muscles, sharper senses."
Adam nodded, already feeling some of those things.
"You'll be assigned to a new group," Lin continued. "More advanced training. Practical combat. Missions, perhaps."
"Missions?" Adam asked.
"Yes," Lin said. "You've earned the right to step beyond these gates. You'll see more of the world soon enough."
The thought excited Adam… but also unnerved him. For years, all he'd known was Bai Village, the training grounds, the mountain paths. The world beyond was vast and dangerous.
But he was finally ready.
---
The next week passed in a blur.
Adam joined the advanced training group, where most of the faces were unfamiliar. Older trainees, those who had broken through within the last year or two, now trained in techniques beyond basic weapon forms. Their exercises involved sparring, stance-breaking, movement under pressure, and most importantly, learning how to manipulate dark matter, not just absorb it.
Zhao was there too, and he was amongst the top of the group.
When they reunited on the training grounds, Zhao broke into a wide grin. "I thought I'd have to come drag you up here myself."
Adam smirked. "You were never that strong."
They laughed like they hadn't in years.
Zhao clapped him on the back. "It's about damn time."
Their reunion was short-lived though. The intensity of advanced training was nothing like the foundation stage. Instructors were harsher, expectations higher. Mistakes weren't scolded, they were punished with sparring matches against stronger opponents.
For the first time, Adam was enjoying the training once again. Everyone here had climbed the same wall. He had no advantage. If anything, he was behind.
But he welcomed it.
---
One evening after sparring, Adam sat alone by the frozen river at the edge of the village. His limbs ached, and his body was covered in bruises. The others had gone back, but he remained, staring at the thin sheen of ice over the flowing water.
He thought about the past five years.
The training. The failure. The doubt. The countless times he'd wanted to scream, to run, to vanish.
The times he wished the others would stop encouraging him so he could be angry without guilt.
He picked up a stone and tossed it into the water, watching the ripples disappear.
He remembered Lin Yao's words: "You're chasing a shadow."
But he hadn't been. Not really.
He had been chasing his place. In this world. Among these people. Within himself.
Now that he'd found it, the path didn't feel lighter.
Just clearer.
---
Soon after, Old Bai gave him a gift: the same manual of martial arts he had once handed Adam as a beginner. But now, the pages seemed different. Not physically—just the way Adam read them. The techniques no longer felt distant or unreachable. His body could respond. His energy could align.
Adam flipped open the weathered manual Old Bai had given him. Now that he had finally stepped onto the path of cultivation, the words inside seemed to glow with new clarity. What once looked like obscure wisdom now read like a lifeline.
"Tier Three Martial Artists are those who have successfully sensed and absorbed dark matter into their physical form. This is the first true step into the realm of martial cultivation. The body begins its transformation, slowly shifting from flesh-bound mortality toward something greater."
Adam read on, his eyes narrowing.
"This stage is divided into four smaller layers: Entry, Mid, Late, and Peak. In the Entry stage, the cultivator begins to circulate dark matter—awkwardly, haltingly—just enough to spark physical improvements. Strength, stamina, and reflexes increase marginally, but the dark matter is wild and difficult to control."
"At the Mid stage, the body starts to adapt. Muscles grow denser, bones harder. The cultivator can begin to manipulate dark matter during moments of effort—during a strike, a leap, a breath. Martial techniques become more than just drills; they take on force."
Adam paused and flexed his hand. His skin no longer split like it used to. Even the faint, nagging pain in his shoulder from years ago had vanished.
"By the Late stage, the cultivator becomes capable of storing dark matter within their muscles and bones. Their body starts acting as a vessel—not just absorbing energy, but keeping it. Attacks become more explosive. Recovery from injury accelerates. Physical fatigue shortens. One begins to feel less like a man and more like a blade, honed and waiting."
"At Peak Tier 3, the body is fully saturated. Every inch—every cell—should be reinforced by dark matter. From here, the cultivator begins to sense the subtle internal flows of energy within themselves: the precursors to meridians. Though still crude, this awareness is essential for advancement. This stage is the threshold before true internal cultivation begins."
"True progress in Tier 3 comes through repetition and perseverance: absorbing dark matter from the surroundings, refining it through pain, movement, and stillness. The body must be broken and rebuilt a hundred times. The world's invisible breath must be drawn in and made flesh."
Adam leaned back and let the pages fall closed on his lap. No wonder so many had stopped at Tier 3. This wasn't a path of sudden enlightenment or luck. It was one of grit and relentless pain, of understanding one's own body to its core and pushing it further than nature allowed.
And he had only just begun.
Dark matter, once elusive, now gathered around him slowly whenever he called for it.
Still a trickle—but enough.
That winter, the instructors announced that a small group of elite trainees would be allowed to accompany the hunting party into the forest. Not to lead the hunt, but to observe, learn, and assist where possible.
after five years of waiting Adam was also chosen.
Zhao clapped him on the back when he heard. "Time to see if all those years of swinging your sword into the wind actually count for something."
Adam smiled. "I hope so."
He was nervous.
Not because of the forest, or the beasts, or the unknown dangers. But because this was the first real step into the wider world of martial arts.
A world of blood, violence, and power.
---
The night before they departed, Adam cleaned his sword carefully, seated by the firelight in his hut. It wasn't just a weapon anymore. It was part of him—a silent witness to everything he had endured.
He thought again about the dark energy he once absorbed from the wolf—the strange, ancient power that felt different from the dark matter he now trained with. That mystery still haunted him.
What was it?
And why did it feel… familiar?
He knew the day would come when he'd need to face it again. Understand it. Use it.
But not yet.
For now, his path lay in the snowy forest, with the others.
He sheathed his sword, blew out the candle, and went to sleep.