Morning in Redbranch broke with a golden haze. Smoke spiraled lazily from chimneys, and the clatter of carts and footsteps filled the narrow streets. Wei Wu woke before the villagers, his mind restless.
The weight of his new responsibility pressed on him like an invisible chain, reminding him that survival was no longer enough—he had to prepare for what was coming.
The boy, whose name he had yet to learn, waited patiently in the courtyard of a small abandoned warehouse Wei Wu had claimed as a temporary shelter. Dust and straw littered the floor, but Wei Wu didn't care. It would suffice.
"Good morning," Wei Wu said, stretching his arms. The boy blinked up at him, hair sticking in tufts from sleep, eyes wide and alert.
"Morning," the boy mumbled.
Wei Wu knelt, bringing himself to eye level. "Today, we begin. Not cultivation yet—you don't have Qi. But I can teach you the basics: stance, footwork, and awareness. If you move correctly, you can survive a lot longer than someone stronger than you."
The boy's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Will it hurt?"
Wei Wu smiled faintly. "Only your pride if you fall over."
The First Exercise
Wei Wu instructed the boy to stand in a basic combat stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight balanced, fists raised. He demonstrated each movement slowly, exaggerating the motions to make them easy to follow.
"Shift your weight, feel your center," Wei Wu said. "You must move like water—flow, adapt, never be rigid. Watch me."
He moved through a series of steps, small pivots and lunges, showing how to dodge and redirect. The boy imitated him, stumbling, then correcting, then stumbling again. Wei Wu kept his patience, giving small encouragements.
"You're too tense," he said finally. "Relax your shoulders. If you fight rigidly, the first strike will topple you."
Hours passed like this, with Wei Wu demonstrating, correcting, and watching. Sweat dripped from both of them, but the boy's movements gradually improved. Each time he caught his balance after a stumble, a flicker of pride brightened his young eyes.
As Wei Wu guided the boy, the system flickered subtly in his mind.
Potential disciple detected. Physical aptitude high. Mental adaptability excellent. Recommend early combat and survival training.
Wei Wu didn't fully understand the system yet, but he could feel its suggestions—a whisper in his mind, nudging him to pay attention, to observe the boy closely.
"You're learning fast," he said. "Faster than most adults I've trained. But talent means nothing without discipline. Remember that."
The boy nodded eagerly, wiping dirt from his hands. "I won't let you down."
Wei Wu's chest warmed. For the first time in his endless cycles of death and rebirth, he felt a glimmer of what it might mean to guide someone—to shape a life beyond his own failures.
Wei Wu decided it was time to test the boy's skills. He recruited a few young townsfolk, boys and girls eager to train, into a mock sparring match. Using sticks as swords and branches as makeshift shields, the children scattered through the warehouse yard.
Wei Wu moved among them, giving instructions, correcting stances, and demonstrating tactical thinking. He set up small exercises—one-on-one duels, defensive lines, and cooperative maneuvers. The boy excelled, anticipating Wei Wu's subtle feints and adjusting his own movements instinctively.
"You're ready for the next step," Wei Wu said, panting slightly. "We'll start using tools tomorrow sticks, simple weapons. Nothing fancy, just enough to get your instincts honed."
The boy beamed, pride swelling. Wei Wu felt a rush of satisfaction he hadn't felt since his first survival after the knights' attack.
That night, Wei Wu climbed the walls of Redbranch again, watching the town settle into a calm rhythm. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys, the distant laughter of children carried faintly, and the stars blinked above, cold and indifferent.
This is only the beginning, Wei Wu thought. I've survived death three times, gained Foundation Stage 1, and I have a boy who trusts me. But there's so much I don't know… so many battles ahead.
He felt the weight of the system's subtle nudges, reminding him that he could grow, that he could train disciples, and that the world was far larger than Redbranch. Somewhere, beyond the hills and forests, lay other threats cultivators, knights, and powers even he had yet to comprehend.
Yet for the first time, he allowed himself a sliver of hope. He could build something lasting. He could survive, not just for himself, but for those who trusted him.
And tomorrow, the training would continue.