Soon, Leon reached the front of a small, worn house. It wasn't much. Just an average middle-class home in a quiet district but it was still the only place where he could breathe without someone pointing and laughing.
He exhaled softly and pushed the door open.
"I'm back," he called out.
Inside, on the living room floor, a middle-aged man was lying face down on a thin mat, his chest pressed against it, his shirt slightly lifted. A middle-aged woman knelt beside him, gently massaging his back.
The man let out low groans of pain, the kind of sound someone makes when they're trying not to scream.
"Honey, you're back," the woman said when she heard Leon. "Lunch is ready. Just wait a bit until your sister returns."
She sounded cheerful, but her face was pale with worry.
Leon walked closer. "Dad… are you okay? You look worse today."
"Yes. As if I'll break that easily. You think this little bit of pain can overpower me?" His father said with a low chuckle.
But Leon's jaw tightened. He knew his father was trying to act tough. He had seen this scene too many times. His father never complained unless the pain was unbearable.
Trying to change the topic, his father asked, "How was your day? Everything alright at school?"
"It was okay," Leon lied.
But both the man and the woman could see right through him — they were his parents, after all.
Leon quickly asked again, "Dad, really… how are you feeling? You look like you can barely breathe."
His father chuckled weakly and waved him off. "Son, I said it's nothing. Don't overthink. Your father's not dying yet."
'Yet.'
The word echoed in Leon's mind like a bad omen.
Truth was, he was dying. Leon knew it. His mother knew it. His father knew it best of all.
Two years ago, an accident had crushed several of his internal organs. The doctors had managed to stabilize him, but the damage remained, festering like a deep wound no ordinary medicine could fully heal.
It was curable though… But only with an alchemy pill that would cost more than they could ever hope to afford.
The truth hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Then suddenly, his father reached under the pillow beside the mat and pulled something out.
A pill.
A gleaming, jade-colored pill the size of a marble. The moment it touched the open air, the entire room filled with a refreshing medicinal fragrance — dense, potent, and unmistakably expensive.
Leon's eyes widened in shock. "Wait… isn't that a Tier Two Body Cleansing Pill?"
His father smiled faintly. "Yes."
Leon's heart skipped a bit.
"How… how did you even get something like that?" he stammered. "Dad, that pill costs at least $10,000. With our income, we… we could never…"
His throat closed up.
This pill was a treasure most middle-class families could only dream about. It was the kind of resource that could change a person's life.
Leon felt a lump rise in his throat. He couldn't even imagine what his father had gone through to get this. The sacrifice. The effort. The pain.
His father's voice softened. "You don't need to worry about how I managed it, Leon. What matters is your future. With this, your talent will improve. You might finally be able to start cultivating properly."
He extended the pill toward Leon.
"Here. Take it and utilize it well."
Leon reached out… His hand trembled slightly. He really wanted to take it.
But in the end, his fingers froze mid-air.
His hand dropped back to his side.
"No, Father."
His father blinked in surprise. "Leon?"
Leon's voice cracked. "It can't turn a frog into a tiger. I won't waste something like this on myself. Please give it to Ema. She deserves it more."
"Leon, what are you saying?" his father said with a frown. "Your sister can already cultivate. She's even considered a prodigy. She doesn't need..."
"That's exactly why you should give it to her!" Leon snapped, no longer able to suppress his emotions. "You said it yourself… she's a prodigy. She'll actually benefit from it. Me? I've tried for years, Dad. Years. But nothing worked."
He clenched his fists tightly.
"This pill is too valuable for a gamble. For a hopeless try."
His father's expression softened again. "Son… you're not hopeless. Maybe this pill..."
"No, Dad," Leon whispered. "Please… don't pressure me. If becoming a cultivator is in my fate, I will become one someday. But if it's not… then nothing, not even a top tier alchemy pill worth billions of dollars can change that."
He turned around abruptly, refusing to let them see his eyes.
"I'm going to my room."
He walked away before his parents could respond.
His mother lowered her gaze, heart heavy. "He's hurting… so much."
His father closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. "I know. And we can't do anything to help him."
Their helplessness was painful to see.
Leon entered his small bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him.
He leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, his breathing unsteady. The nightmare, the bullying, his father's pain, the pill he refused, everything pressed against his chest like a crushing weight.
Finally, he changed his clothes, sat on the floor, and crossed his legs into a lotus position.
He calmed his mind, forcing himself to focus inward.
"Please help me form a dantian… please," he muttered under his breath.
Every cultivator's journey began the same way. First, they had to sense the spiritual energy in the surroundings. Then, they had to refine that energy into qi. Only after that could they use that qi to form a dantian, the internal energy core.
Without a dantian, one wasn't a cultivator. Not even a beginner.
Leon had achieved something extraordinary at the age of five. He had sensed spiritual energy far earlier than normal. Children usually managed to feel it around age ten or eleven, sometimes even later.
Many had praised him back then. His parents had cried with joy. Those who knew about him had even called him a once-in-a-century genius.
But then… nothing.
Years passed. He refined energy again and again.
And still, he could not form a dantian.
It was as if an invisible force inside him always blocked the final step.
And tonight, like every night, he tried again.
He inhaled slowly. Spiritual energy drifted around him like invisible dust. He guided it gently, carefully, pulling it toward his abdomen.
He then slowly refined it, shaping it into the simplest form of internal energy — qi.
Just one more step…
Just one…
Form the dantian…
But...
A sharp, invisible pressure burst inside him, like a door slamming in his face.
Leon gasped and clutched his stomach.
He tried again... but alas…
"No… no… not again…" he whispered, his voice trembling.
He tried again. And again.
But every attempt ended the same way.
Eventually, Leon lowered his hands, breathing shakily.
"…Why can't I…?" he whispered into the silence.