The early morning mist clung to the mountain's flank like the breath of slumbering beasts. From afar, the Ironwood Forest loomed—a sea of dark trunks rising into the pale sky. The clang of carts and the chatter of disciples filled the gathering point at the edge of the sect's outer grounds.
Li Shen arrived with steady steps, his robe sleeves fluttering slightly in the cool wind. Rows of wooden carts waited, each paired with an axe forged for endurance rather than elegance.
"Ah, Li Shen! Early as always!"
A cheerful voice broke through the morning bustle. Elder Feng stood by the mission board, waving with his usual grin. He was a broad-shouldered man in his forties, with laugh lines deep enough to hold rainwater and eyes that gleamed like polished bronze. His robes were simple—gray outer sect garb—but they carried the faint scent of pine resin and smoke, proof of his field work rather than idle supervision.
"Good morning, Elder Feng." Li Shen bowed slightly.
"Hahaha, none of that formality, boy!" Elder Feng laughed, clapping his shoulder. "We're both out here working our backs off. You're just a younger version of me—minus the wrinkles and the charm."
Li Shen couldn't help but smile faintly. "Then I must train harder to catch up to Elder Feng's level."
"Bah! Don't flatter me, you sly fox. Just make sure not to lose a finger with that axe again," Elder Feng teased, handing him a packed lunch wrapped in leaf paper. "Here, energy food. You'll need it."
Li Shen accepted it with a bow. "Thank you, Elder."
"Go on now," Feng waved. "The forest won't chop itself."
By the time Li Shen reached the Ironwood Forest, the morning sun had broken through the mist. Each Ironwood tree stood like a silent warrior, its bark black and dense, its roots gripping the rocky soil with stubborn pride. Every strike against it rang like metal, the sound echoing deep into the woods.
Li Shen swung his axe again and again, rhythmically—chop, exhale, chop, inhale. Sweat rolled down his forehead, but his mind wasn't on the labor.
Instead, his thoughts drifted toward the Cutter's Vital Rhythm.
According to the jade slip he had read, the Cutter's Vital Rhythm was born from the ancient Agricultural Clan, a once-forgotten sect of farmers who battled endless tree monsters that preyed upon their spiritual crops. Outnumbered and frail, they forged a technique not from sword or spear—but from labor itself. Every swing, every chop, was infused with rhythm and intent. The flow of Qi synchronized with the motion of the body, replenishing stamina as it was spent.
It had only one move—"Swing, swing, and swing again."
Simple. Foolish. Yet eternal.
The more he thought, the more Li Shen's axe began to follow a cadence. Chop… inhale… chop… exhale. His breath fell in harmony with the rise and fall of the blade. The dull ache in his arms began to fade, replaced by a faint warmth threading through his veins.
Suddenly—
Ding:
Congratulations to the host for learning the Cutter's Vital Rhythm.
[Technique: Cutter's Vital Rhythm (Tier I)]
[Proficiency: 1%]
[Qi Circulation Efficiency: 1%]
Li Shen paused mid-swing, staring at his hands as if they had betrayed him. Then a grin crept across his face.
"So that's it… I've been cultivating it all wrong!"
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Last night, I sat like a fool trying to meditate with a technique meant for chopping trees."
His body moved easier now—each motion smoother, lighter. The Verdant Breathing Art he had perfected earlier filled him with subtle strength, and his strikes grew sharper, his stance more stable.
Hours passed like the rhythm of a drum.
When the sun reached its zenith, he rested under a large Ironwood, unwrapping the meal Elder Feng had given him. The fragrance rose immediately—soft rice infused with spirit herbs, rolled into tight cylinders and layered with thin slices of spiritual carp. Beside it was a small gourd of cooling tea brewed with spirit leaves that shimmered faintly in the light.
"This… is basically sushi from my old world," Li Shen mused, smiling wryly. "Only it hums with Qi."
Taking a bite, he felt a refreshing surge flow through his limbs. Even their lunches are part of cultivation here… this world really doesn't waste anything.
Between bites, he whispered, "System, use my remaining Mental Energy to optimize the Cutter's Vital Rhythm."
Ding:
-80 Mental Energy consumed.
[Technique: Cutter's Vital Rhythm (Tier I)]
[Proficiency: 1%]
[Qi Circulation Efficiency: 1% → 56%]
Mental Energy Remaining: 0 / 100
A gentle tremor rippled through his dantian. His breathing steadied. His body suddenly felt lighter—as if every muscle now moved in cooperation rather than defiance.
He grinned. "Let's test this, shall we?"
Li Shen stood, gripped his axe, and resumed chopping.
Chop! Chop! Chop!
Each swing was now fluid—his shoulders rotated perfectly, Qi flowing from his core to his wrists, then to the edge of the blade. The resistance of the Ironwood seemed lesser, the sound sharper. It was as though the axe and the body had become one.
Even after another four hours, he felt no exhaustion—only a steady rhythm echoing through his bones.
When he finally stopped, the clearing around him was littered with felled trunks. His chest rose and fell calmly, his hands steady despite the long work.
"System," he said, wiping sweat from his brow, "show my panel."
Ding:
Name: Li Shen
Cultivation: Body Tempering – Early
Cultivation Technique: Verdant Breathing Art (Tier I) (Mastered)
Qi Density: 35.8 Q units
Mental Energy: 0 / 100 units
Cultivation Techniques:
- Verdant Breathing Art (Tier I) [Mastered]
- Cutter's Vital Rhythm (Tier I) [Proficiency: 5%] [Efficiency: 56.4%]
Li Shen nodded thoughtfully. "So after four hours of work, I gained 4% proficiency and 0.4% efficiency…"
He tapped his chin, doing quick mental math. "Meaning… I need at least 95 hours to reach full mastery. Hah, seems I've just signed up for a very long relationship with this axe."
He chuckled softly to himself, eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
As he looked at the pile of trees, he counted—fifteen felled trunks. Just days ago, he could barely handle five before collapsing. His speed had tripled.
But his instincts, sharpened by the strange wisdom of his new life, whispered caution. Too much growth draws eyes. Too much strength invites questions.
He carefully dragged eight trunks toward his cart, hiding the remaining seven beneath a cover of leaves and branches.
"Let's not get greedy," he muttered. "Even a fool knows not to outshine the sun too early."
The forest wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of sap and sweat. Li Shen paused, resting the axe on his shoulder. His gaze drifted to the horizon, where the Ironwood trees stood like silent witnesses to his small, steady progress.
Step by step, swing by swing—he would carve his path forward.