The sun crept through the cracked window, its rays breaking into fragments as they struck polished surfaces before finally resting upon Maria's face.
She stirred, her lashes fluttering open. The first thing she saw was Jian, seated cross-legged on the floor, his posture steady, his eyes closed in deep focus.
Although Jian had awakened with all his memories intact, it felt less like clarity and more like an endless library—pages arranged, if he needed information he could just sort through the vast catalog of memories.
The knowledge was there, the truths and falsehoods alike a stock pile worth a behemoth size of information, but he had not yet absorbed and shifted through them.
Yu Jian, now stood as he now emitted the aura of a renouned expert tho albeit feint his demeanor naw glamored with superiority that could only be seen by experienced cultivators.
In his previous life, had never been the violent type. He thrived on perspective, strategy, and leverage—the art of avoiding bloodshed by twisting circumstance to his favor.
But the world he had returned to no longer afforded him that luxury. The recent events had cornered him, forcing him into a path where choice was stripped away.
He had once lived freely, without care, drifting with the wind. Yet as he sat there, heart weighed down with memory and regret, a new conviction had begun to take root.
For the first time since his awakening, Jian resolved that he would not stand idle anymore, or depend on anyone. He would guard the people he loved, even if it meant reshaping his very nature.
Maria shifted on the bed, propping her chin on her hands, watching him with quiet intensity. She did not speak, unwilling to break his focus. Her gaze lingered, steady and unblinking, like a serpent waiting, fascinated, locked onto prey.
Time stretched. Hours trickled away in silence. At last, Jian's breathing slowed and his eyes opened, clarity gleaming within them. He turned—and caught sight of Maria, who had succumbed to sleep, exhaustion written softly across her features.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He rose carefully, his movements deliberate so as not to disturb her. But just as he began to stand, his stomach let out a low rumble.
The sound was almost comical in the quiet room, and Jian exhaled through his nose with a wry grin.
He had been brutally remembered that —he was mortal once again. Until one stepped into the Core Formation Realm, the body still demanded food and drink.
Cultivators below that stage lived bound to mortal needs; only beyond it did one sustain themselves purely on spiritual essence, where eating became nothing more than a leisure of taste and memory.
Knowing his situation, the sect had made arrangements to deliver meals daily. It was a courtesy afforded not to ordinary initiates as that would require points, but only because of the Talisman of Acceptance he had used to gain entry.
Without that, he would have been treated no differently from the countless outer court disciples who would have used sect point to acquire food.
Turning his head toward the reception area just beyond the door, Jian caught sight of movement.
A tray had been set neatly on the small wooden stand, steam still curling upward from the covered dishes. Whoever had placed it there had done so silently, showing the kind of practiced discretion the sect demanded of its servants.
The scent drifted into the room—warm rice, a light broth, and the faint tang of spiritual herbs mixed in, meant to aid recovery. His body, still aching from strain, tightened with hunger at the aroma.
Jian's gaze lingered on the tray for a moment longer, thoughtful. So, this is the kind of favor the talisman buys… but favors are debts in disguise. His mind shifted, unbidden, to the name that had been whispered in reverence ever since his arrival. And who exactly is this Fairy Mei Lian I keep hearing of?
He pushed the thought aside and stepped forward. The moment he uncovered the dishes, steam rushed upward, and his restraint cracked. He ate with the focus of a starving man, though he forced himself to keep some dignity, barely resisting the urge to tear into the meal with his hands.
Each mouthful quieted the wild hunger pangs gnawing at his gut, strength seeping back into his limbs.
When at last the bowl was empty, he set it aside and turned. His gaze fell on Maria, still sleeping soundly, her breath slow and even. For the first time since waking, his expression softened with concern.
Memories stirred. That physique—the Ice-Burning Yin Yang Physique, he couldn't discern on the spot currently, but based on what he saw and felt initially he could now place a name to the physique.
It was rare, physique, and some might even call it a curse cursed as much as it was blessed.
A vessel forged to burn the very balance of Yin and Yang itself. To survive, such a body required a constant influx of Yang Qi, a stabilizing force to counter the endless self-consuming fire within.
Without it, the vessel would crack, devour itself, and collapse from the inside out.
The only reason Maria appeared untouched, still whole and not drained, was simple—she remained a mortal.
Her meridians had yet to awaken, her body still ignorant of the storm sleeping within her veins. But once her path of cultivation began it would be a challenge.
Not wasting a breath, Jian reached for the table. A sheet of rough paper, an ink slab, and a feathered brush were quickly drawn to him. He ground the ink with practiced ease, the soft scrape filling the quiet chamber, and then began to write.
Each stroke of the brush carried precision, the characters flowing with a rhythm that seemed alive. He was crafting more than words—he was weaving a path. A cultivation method tailored for the Ice-Burning Yin Yang Physique, one that could stabilize its chaos without destroying the vessel.
His hand moved steadily, yet his mind whispered. This is going to be a hassle, isn't it? The technique demanded more than most—it would require balance, discipline, and more from him than he cared to admit.
Still, as the final character dried into black ink, a smile tugged at his lips. Well, when did I ever run from a challenge?
He set the brush down, studying the page for a moment before folding it carefully. His expression hardened into something quieter, deeper. Maria would need this —whether she wished it or not.
Then, without delay, Jian crossed his legs on the floor, spine straightening as his breathing slowed. His eyes slid shut, and his aura drew inward. The chimed, noise falling away unt
il only the pulse of energy remained in the room.
He began to cultivate.