The morning sun pierced through the rotting wooden slats of the shack, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
Fang Ze opened his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink. Instead, he had spent the entire night adjusting his breathing rhythm, forcing this frail, malnourished body to adapt to the basic circulation techniques of his past life.
"Hunger..." Fang Ze rubbed his flat stomach. "This body is too weak. I need energy."
He stood up, brushed the dust off his grey servant robes, and pushed the door open.
The Fang Clan compound was already bustling with activity. As a branch disciple with poor talent, Fang Ze's 'daily duty' was to chop fifty bundles of firewood before noon. If he failed, he wouldn't get lunch.
He walked towards the woodshed, his head lowered, blending into the background like a shadow.
"Well, look who it is."
A mocking voice blocked his path.
Fang Ze stopped. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The heavy footsteps and the smell of cheap musk oil gave it away.
Fang Wei. His older cousin. A Tier-3 Body Refining cultivator. In his previous life, Fang Wei had broken Fang Ze's legs just for 'looking at him the wrong way,' leaving him crippled for years.
"Are you deaf, trash?"
A heavy hand clamped onto Fang Ze's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Fang Wei, a burly teenager with a face full of arrogance, sneered down at him. Behind him stood two lackeys, snickering.
"I was talking to you. Did you finish my share of the firewood yesterday?"
The pain in his shoulder was sharp. A normal fifteen-year-old would have flinched, cried out, or glared in anger.
But Fang Ze did none of those things.
The killing intent in his heart surged for a split second—enough to slaughter everyone in this courtyard instantly—but it vanished just as quickly, locked away behind a mental iron wall.
Analysis: Enemy is Tier-3. I am Tier-1. Physical confrontation chance of victory: 0%. Consequence of fighting back: Death or expulsion. Benefit: None.
Fang Ze's face instantly crumbled into a mask of terrified submission. He shrank back, trembling visibly.
"C-Cousin Wei!" Fang Ze stammered, his voice shaking perfectly. "I... I did! I chopped everything! Please don't hit me!"
He hunched his shoulders, making himself look smaller, more pathetic.
Fang Wei blinked, seemingly surprised by how spineless Fang Ze was today. Usually, this kid would stare back with stubborn, silent eyes. But seeing Fang Ze trembling like a frightened dog gave Fang Wei a rush of satisfaction.
"Hmph. At least you know your place," Fang Wei scoffed, patting Fang Ze's cheek hard. Slap. Slap. "Remember, the Awakening Ceremony is in three days. Don't embarrass our branch family, you waste."
"Yes... yes, of course," Fang Ze nodded vigorously, not daring to make eye contact.
"Let's go," Fang Wei waved to his lackeys, losing interest. "I need to prepare for the ceremony. I heard my father prepared a Spirit Stone for me."
They walked away, laughing loudly.
Fang Ze remained bowed until their footsteps faded completely.
Slowly, he straightened his back. The terror on his face dissolved like smoke, replaced by an expressionless calm that was far more terrifying than anger.
He dusted off the spot on his shoulder where Fang Wei had touched him, as if wiping away filth.
"Tier-3 Body Refining..." Fang Ze murmured, his eyes indifferent. "Enjoy your Spirit Stone, cousin. You won't be needing it for long."
He didn't waste another second on anger. Anger was an emotion for the powerless. He had work to do.
Fang Ze spent the day completing his chores efficiently. He moved mechanically, conserving every ounce of stamina. He ate his meager lunch—two dry buns—slowly, chewing thoroughly to extract every bit of nutrient.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange, the clan quieted down.
Night had fallen.
Fang Ze returned to his shack, but he didn't rest. He waited until the moon was obscured by clouds.
"It's time."
He changed into a set of dark, tight-fitting clothes he had stitched together from rags. He tied his long hair up and rubbed soot on his face to reduce reflection.
In his mind, a 3D map of the Fang Clan's back mountain unfolded. Every patrol route, every shift change, every blind spot in the defensive array... he remembered them all from the time he later returned to massacre the clan in his past life.
He slipped out of the window like a wisp of smoke, moving silently towards the Forbidden Area.
Tonight, the 'Blood Spirit Grass' would mature. But Fang Ze knew something even the Clan Leader didn't know.
The grass wasn't unguarded. A 'Iron-Hide Boar', a Tier-5 vicious beast, was sleeping right next to it.
"The Clan Leader's son brought six guards to kill that beast in the past life," Fang Ze thought as he merged into the darkness of the forest. "I don't have six guards."
He glanced at a small pouch at his waist. Inside was a mixture of poisonous 'Rotting Corpse Flower' powder and dried chili—something he had prepared from the kitchen scraps during the day.
"But I have a brain."