The days passed quietly, measured by the rhythm of sweat, breath, and steel.
Adam had settled into the routine like a stone into a riverbed.
Morning training with the others under Instructor Lin's steady gaze.
Afternoon spars with Zheng Huo, where fists, elbows, and the occasional mocking grin were exchanged with equal energy.
Evenings brought the crackling of firewood, aching muscles, and, more often than not, the rustle of Lin Yao's footsteps approaching him beneath the starlight.
Zheng Huo was the first to truly warm to him. The boy had the energy of a wild dog and the heart to match. Their early spars had been intense, bruises and scrapes earned with pride—but with time, laughter crept in between strikes, and insults became friendly banter.
"Come on, 'River Boy,'" Zheng Huo teased one afternoon after Adam sidestepped his charge and sent him sprawling. "You gonna teach me that little ghost trick or keep hogging all the cool moves?"
Adam offered a hand to help him up. "You fall like a sack of potatoes. Might be time to practice balance drills."
Zheng grinned, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. "I do like potatoes."
That drew a short laugh from Adam—short, but genuine. Their rivalry had mellowed into camaraderie, and Lin Yao often joined in, watching their matches with a bemused smile.
Sometimes, she would sit beside Adam afterwards, handing him a wet cloth or teasing him for letting Zheng land a hit. Other nights, they'd spar together—less about winning, more about flow, rhythm, and shared silence punctuated by the sharp clack of wooden swords.
One evening, as Adam stood at the edge of the training field catching his breath, Lin Yao approached, her hair tied messily back and sweat glistening along her brow.
"You're getting faster," she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow.
"You're getting harder to predict," Adam replied, wiping his face with his sleeve.
She tilted her head. "Is that your way of saying I almost beat you?"
"I'm saying almost means I didn't lose."
She smirked. "Careful. Pride makes the next fall harder."
They sat together in the cooling grass, letting the silence stretch comfortably between them. No heavy words. Just the sound of crickets and the distant crackle of evening fires.
Over time, the others began to accept him too. Not because he tried to be friendly, but because he wasn't trying. He helped when needed, offered advice when asked, and listened more than he spoke. His silence was no longer distant; it was simply… part of who he was. And the village, in its simple wisdom, accepted that.
---
Two months later, the fields around Bai Village had shifted into golden tones. The wheat swayed in the breeze like a sea of sun-touched silk. Time, as always, moved forward.
And so did the training.
The final day of the first phase arrived with little ceremony. Instructor Lin gathered the group at dawn beneath the same wooden pavilion where they had begun.
His voice, as always, was calm—firm, but warm.
"You've worked hard. I've seen the bruises, the sweat, the progress. Some of you came here with fire, others with fear. But all of you stayed. That's what matters."
He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Adam for just a moment longer.
"This test isn't to weed out the weak. It's to measure growth. Whether you pass or not, you've already walked further than most. Keep that in mind."
The test was simple, yet brutal. Endurance, balance, precision, and sparring in succession. Adam's heart pounded as he stepped into the ring—but it wasn't fear. It was focus.
He moved with a clarity honed through repetition. Where once he hesitated, now he anticipated. Each breath was purposeful, each strike grounded in principle.
By the end, he was drenched in sweat, shoulders burning, but his stance remained firm.
Instructor Lin gave a small nod.
"Well done."
Adam exhaled, letting the tension drain from his body.
Lin Yao clapped him on the back when he stepped out. "Not bad for someone who used to flinch every time Zheng came at him."
"I still flinch," Adam said. "I've just learned how to hide it better."
Zheng, sitting nearby with a bruised cheek, pointed a finger. "Lies. I saw your soul leave your body when I threw that feint."
"Keep dreaming," Adam muttered, but he was smiling.
Later that day, Instructor Lin announced the results.
As expected, several villagers passed. A few would need more time—but to everyone's surprise, it was Adam who had scored highest in the sparring assessment and second overall in the entire trial.
People clapped. A few even cheered. He nodded awkwardly, unsure how to respond to the attention.
Lin Kuan, who had been standing off to the side, approached Instructor Lin quietly.
"That boy," he murmured. "You've been training him closely?"
Instructor Lin inclined his head. "He's... unlike most. Learns fast, but it's more than that. He remembers. It's as if every correction I give him stays with him, like he's seen it all before."
Lin Kuan's gaze remained on Adam, who was now sitting on a nearby bench drinking water with Zheng and Lin Yao.
Just two month ago he was the weakest of the bunch. Most of the teens here have spent at least a year or two training their bodies and yet he was able to catch up to them in just two months.
"He's talented," Instructor Lin added. "He might help us in the future, when the time comes."
But Lin Kuan shook his head gently.
"Don't plant dreams in shallow soil. It's too early to place hopes on any of them. We don't know what storms are coming."
Instructor Lin nodded solemnly. "Of course."
And with that, the conversation ended.
---
The second phase began the following morning.
It was colder than usual, and the sun had barely begun to rise when the group gathered again, this time inside a stone pavilion lined with simple carvings. Small braziers lit the corners, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Instructor Lin stood before them, holding a palm-sized black stone that pulsed faintly in his hand.
"This," he began, raising the stone, "is dark matter."
A hush fell over the room.
He placed the stone on a pedestal at the center. Its glow dimmed, as if reluctant to part with its warmth.
"You've heard stories," he said. "Of dark matter granting strength, prolonging life, unlocking unseen realms. Some call it divine. Others, cursed. Here, in Bai Village, we see it as it is—a force. A tool. Nothing more."
He paced slowly.
"Dark matter exists within the world—it is one of the most basic forces governing the world we live in. You cannot see it with eyes, you sense it with spirit instead."
A hand rose.
"How do we do that?" one of the younger boys asked.
Instructor Lin smiled gently. "The same way you sense rain before it falls. Calm your heart, empty your mind and most importantly be patient."
He walked them through the breathing techniques. Slow inhalations. Controlled release. Focus not on the body, but the space between the body.
He also explained that the best way to quicken this process is by thoroughly break the body first.
Adam listened carefully. He had heard these words before—in his fourth life. But this time, something felt different. He felt different.
When Instructor Lin gave the signal, they all started training more intensely than ever before before they sat cross-legged, breathing as instructed, eyes closed.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Around him, the others shifted in discomfort or frustration. A few sighed. The girl beside Adam scratched her cheek and muttered a curse.
But Adam sat still.
And then—there it was.
A flicker. A ripple.
Like touching the surface of a still pond with the edge of his mind.
It wasn't sight or sound. It was presence.
Dark, cold and ancient.
He reached, gently.
The moment his spirit brushed it, a surge of numbness flooded his limbs. Not painful, just... overwhelming.
His breath hitched. His heart raced.
And yet, he didn't pull away.
Instead, he allowed the sensation to settle.
It was like threading a needle in the dark, but slowly, carefully—he guided the energy inward. He didn't know how he knew, but something in him simply remembered.
When Instructor Lin called an end to the session, Adam opened his eyes.
Silence.
Everyone was looking at him.
"Adam," Instructor Lin said slowly. "You... you sensed it, didn't you?"
Adam nodded, unsure what to say.
Instructor Lin stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Not just sensed. You absorbed it."
Gasps rippled through the group.
Zheng Huo's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?"
"I... I think I did," Adam murmured.
Instructor Lin's expression was unreadable. Not shocked. Not joyful. Just… watching. Adam even saw a flicker of madness before for a second.
"You're either the luckiest student I've ever trained," he said quietly, "or something else entirely."
Zheng leaned over. "Man, you have got to teach me how to cheat at meditation."
Adam chuckled weakly, but the truth was—he didn't understand it either.
Lin Yao gave him a subtle smile, one that didn't reach her lips but warmed her eyes.
And for a moment, as they stood in that quiet stone pavilion, Adam felt something shift—not just within himself, but around him. As if the world had taken notice.