Morning in Ashbourne smelled like bread, smoke, and wet grass. The kind of smell that made you want to roll over and go back to sleep—unless you were Zeke, in which case you already had.
He sat up with a groan, arms stiff, body aching from yesterday's chopping spree. His muscles hummed in a strange, buzzing way, like he had swallowed lightning in his sleep. He flexed his hand, then promptly crushed the clay cup on his nightstand by accident.
"…Well. That's new."
Water dripped onto the floorboards as he sighed, grabbed a rag, and muttered, "First gravity, now cups. At this rate, I'll have to start a research journal."
Outside, villagers were already bustling about, hauling wagons, feeding animals, and arguing over whose cow had trampled whose cabbages. Zeke stretched, pulled on his boots, and stepped into the square with a yawn.
He spotted a bucket near the well and thought he'd be useful for once. Lifting it with one hand, he nearly launched it skyward. "Too light. Either I'm stronger, or someone's been stealing water again."
"Boy!" Harrod's voice bellowed from the forge.
Zeke froze. The stone wall of the smithy bore a fresh dent where a rock had collided. He glanced at his foot, then at Harrod's glare.
"…In my defense," Zeke said carefully, "the rock started it."
The blacksmith's hammer slammed down, sparks flying. "You dent my forge again, and you'll be testing gravity with your teeth!"
Zeke raised both hands. "Noted. No more scientific experiments before breakfast."
Villagers chuckled around him, but more than one pair of eyes lingered. Something about him was… different. Stronger.
Before Zeke could think more on it, the System flickered awake in his mind.
[Quest Reminder: Protect what is yours.]
Zeke groaned and rubbed his temples. "Protect what? My breakfast? My bed? My honor? Too late for that last one."
The message didn't fade. It pulsed like an impatient heartbeat.
"Fine. Ignore me, then," Zeke muttered, waving it off.
By midday, children were running near the forest, sticks in hand.
"I'm a Sacred Immortal!" one boy shouted, swinging his branch like a sword.
"I'm a God King!" another replied, puffing his chest.
The third wrinkled his nose. "Well, I'm Zeke, and I overslept again!"
Laughter rang, high and bright, until it was cut short by a low growl.
The children froze. From the shadows of the trees stepped a wolf-like beast, its eyes faintly glowing, fur bristling. It wasn't normal—not here, not this far south. A qi-touched creature.
The kids screamed, stumbling back.
"Wolf!" someone shouted from the square. Panic erupted. Farmers dropped tools, mothers shrieked, elders shouted warnings. Ashbourne had no warriors, no cultivators. Just farmers and fools.
The beast's gaze locked on the smallest child. It lowered its body, muscles coiling.
Zeke's System pulsed.
[Quest Activated: Protect Ashbourne.]
Objective: Defeat the beast.
His mouth went dry. "No, no, no—heavens, when I asked for excitement, I meant festivals, not fangs!"
But the wolf lunged.
Zeke didn't think. He moved.
His hand closed on the nearest thing—his woodcutter's axe, still leaning against the wall. He dashed forward, heart hammering in his chest.
"Bad dog!" he shouted, swinging wildly.
The wolf snarled, leaping aside. Zeke stumbled, tripped over a bucket, and hurled it in panic. The bucket smacked the beast's snout, startling it just long enough for Zeke to swing again.
Clang! The axe glanced off its shoulder.
The wolf whirled, claws slashing. Zeke threw up his arm. Pain burned as claws raked his skin, but his Body Tempering muscles held—the wound shallow.
He gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes. "Alright, heavens. If this is a joke, it's a terrible one."
The wolf lunged again. Zeke ducked, slapped it across the nose on instinct, then staggered back in disbelief.
"Did I just… slap a wolf?"
The villagers gasped. The children cried out his name.
Zeke's chest heaved. His eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, he saw the cultivators in the sky again, robes billowing, qi glowing. He had dreamed of flying. But now—now he had something worth standing on the ground for.
He raised the axe high. "Not today!"
With a roar, he brought it down, burying the blade deep into the beast's skull.
The wolf collapsed. Silence.
[Quest Completed.]
Reward: +10 Points.]
Cultivation Advanced: Body Tempering – Middle Stage.]
Warmth surged through his veins. His bones hardened, muscles tightened, breath deepened. His body thrummed with new power.
Zeke staggered, staring at his hands. "Middle stage… already?"
He blinked. Then laughed breathlessly. "So all it takes to become stronger is chopping wood and slapping wolves? Cultivation's a lot less glamorous than I imagined."
The village erupted.
Children cheered, running to him. "Zeke's a hero!"
Elders whispered among themselves: "The heavens must be watching…"
Old Marta shoved through the crowd, inspecting his scratches. "Reckless boy! You'll get yourself killed one of these days!"
Harrod clapped him on the back so hard he nearly toppled. "Not bad, lad. Not bad at all."
Zeke flushed, grinning nervously. "It was nothing. Just… chopping wood with fur on it."
But the way they looked at him had changed. No longer just the lazy dreamer. Something more.
As the villagers dragged the wolf's carcass toward the square, a traveling merchant shook his head.
"Strange. Beasts like this don't wander south. Not unless… something's stirring."
An elder muttered, "I heard the sects are recruiting again. Looking for talents in the county over."
Zeke caught the words, his pulse quickening. Sects. Cultivators. Flying. His dream didn't feel so far away anymore.
That night, Zeke lay under the stars again, arms sore but spirit burning.
He remembered the cultivators in the sky. He remembered the children's laughter. And he remembered the way the villagers had looked at him—not as a dreamer, but as their own.
He whispered, soft but certain:
"If protecting them makes me stronger… then I'll protect them with everything I have."
The System pulsed.
[Main Questline Unlocked: Path to Immortality.]
Zeke's eyes widened. He let out a nervous laugh. "Great. No pressure, right?"
Above him, the stars glittered. Somewhere, the heavens were listening.
And so, Zeke of Ashbourne's journey continued—not just to fly, but to protect, to grow, and to carve his path to immortality.