Zeke woke with the swagger of a man who thought he had already conquered the heavens. He strutted through Ashbourne like a rooster with too many tail feathers, chin high, grin wide, shoulders rolling with exaggerated strength.
"Tomorrow," he declared, "I'll be glowing with qi!"
The children who trailed after him flapped their arms like wings, chanting, "Zeke! Zeke! Flying Zeke!" One hurled himself off a hay bale and crashed into straw with a triumphant squeal.
Old Marta smacked Zeke's shin with her broom as he passed. "Glow? You'll burn out like kindling."
Zeke winced, rubbed his leg, and laughed her off. "Don't worry, Marta. Soon, I'll wave down at you from the clouds. Maybe I'll even drop some qi glitter."
She spat. "Drop yourself in a ditch."
But Zeke didn't care. Today was the day.
He attacked his chores like a man born for them—and for once, they bent beneath his hands. The buckets that once bowed his shoulders now sloshed easily in each arm. The axe that used to bounce now split logs in clean halves. He ran through the fields and barely broke a sweat. Even the goat that had humiliated him before practically flopped back into its pen when he grabbed it.
"Peak strength, baby!" Zeke shouted, flexing at bewildered villagers. "The heavens can't stop me!"
By sundown, the System descended like a verdict.
[Quest completed. Total points: one hundred. Advancement unlocked. You have reached the Peak Stage of the Body Tempering Realm.]
His body surged again—muscles hardening, bones humming like tempered steel, qi threading sharper through his limbs. He dropped his axe, chest heaving, then roared, "Peak Body Tempering! Ashbourne, behold your genius!"
And immediately tripped over a log, sprawling face-first in the dirt.
Villagers shook their heads. "He's playing corpse again."
But Zeke was too happy to care. He hopped up, struck poses, flexed both arms, and tried to lift a barrel one-handed—this time it actually worked, though he dropped it a second later and limped away grinning through clenched teeth.
That night, lying under the stars, Zeke's chest swelled with triumph. He pictured himself in flowing robes, qi radiance glowing around him, soaring over the village. The kids' chants rang in his ears like prophecy. "Almost there," he whispered. "Just one more step."
The System shattered him.
[Next advancement requirement: one thousand points. Early Stage Qi Gathering Realm.]
Zeke sat bolt upright, sputtering. "One… thousand?!" His voice cracked so loud it set a dog barking. "That's not cultivation—that's slavery with extra steps!"
He flopped onto his back, groaning. "It's impossible. I'll never make it. Not in five days. Not in five lifetimes."
The System remained silent. Then, as if twisting the knife:
[New quest category unlocked: Combat Quests.]
[Qi beast slain = points rewarded based on beast's realm.]
Early Body Tempering beast = 10 points
Middle Body Tempering beast = 25 points
Late Body Tempering beast = 50 points
Peak Body Tempering beast = 100 points
Zeke's mouth dropped open. "That's suicide! The wolf nearly ate me, and it was just Middle!"
He clutched his head. "What if I chop ten thousand logs? Or meditate until my backside ascends? No?" Silence.
Finally he buried his face in the grass and groaned. "The heavens hate me."
But the image of cultivators flying returned—the dream that had burned in him since childhood. Slowly, he clenched his fists. "Fine. Beasts. If that's the only way forward, then I'll hunt. But if I die, I'm haunting this System forever."
The next day, Ashbourne buzzed with rumor. A merchant arrived pale-faced, claiming livestock had been found drained dry in a nearby hamlet. Elders whispered of disaster. "When beasts move south, war follows," one muttered.
Sect recruiters, too, were said to be only a county away. Opportunity and doom in the same breath.
And that night, villagers swore they saw a cloaked figure at the edge of the fields, watching. When torches approached, it was gone.
Meanwhile, Zeke sharpened a stick into a makeshift spear, slung a ragged pack over his shoulder, and stuffed it with stale bread.
The children cheered as if he were marching off to war. "Zeke's going beast hunting!"
Farmers shook their heads. "He'll be back crying before supper."
Marta leaned on her broom. "If the beasts don't eat him, the roots will."
Zeke ignored them all. He stood at the edge of the forest, spear trembling, sweat cold on his back. He swallowed hard. "One thousand points or death. Fine. Let's see which comes first."
The shadows of the trees swallowed him whole.