Okay, so here's how it is – every morning when the sun comes up over our clan's valley, everything's glowing like it's been dipped in honey and morning dew. I'm always leaning against this massive old pine tree that's been there forever, just watching everyone else do their thing. They move so smooth, you know? Pulling fire, water, earth out of nowhere – making swords out of light or shields that look like they're made of solid glass.
I'm supposed to be one of them. Name's Chen Feng. When I was ten, we did this big initiation thing to wake up my spiritual core… and it just broke. Like, shattered. The healer told my dad straight up: His dantian's done for. Can't store any energy at all. Never will.
Fast forward seven years, and everyone calls me "Waste Feng." Most people just pretend I don't exist, but the ones who don't? They'll shoot me these little smirks when they see me hanging around the training grounds. It gets old, but what can you do?
"Yo – there you are, moping under your tree again." Yue jogs over holding a bowl wrapped in a cloth, and I can already smell ginseng and chicken – my go-to comfort food. She's my sister, but not by blood; Dad found her as a baby on some crazy high mountain, wrapped up in these white flowers that only grow up there. She's had my back since we were kids, even when other brats would throw rocks and yell at me.
"Made you soup," she says, peeling back the cloth. "Old Master Zhang from the village gave me some new herbs – says they help your body move energy better, even if you can't hold it."
I take the bowl, let the warmth seep into my hands. "You know this won't change anything. The healers say a broken dantian is just… broken."
She plops down next to me on the grass, pulling her knees to her chest. "Maybe the healers don't have all the answers. I swear, when I look at you, I can feel there's something strong in there – you just haven't figured out how to flip the switch yet."
Before I can say anything back, this loud laugh cuts through the air. Liu Qing – he's basically the golden boy around here, eighteen and already making walls of fire that can melt stone. He struts over with his crew trailing behind him like he's the main character in a movie.
"Waste Feng getting spoon-fed like a toddler?" he shouts, making sure everyone can hear. "What're you gonna do when trouble hits – throw hot broth at 'em?"
His friends crack up. "Dude can't even hold a sword without dropping it," one of them adds. "He should just stick to washing dishes or something."
My hands clench into fists at my sides. I know better than to pick a fight – I'd get creamed, and the embarrassment would be way worse than the beating. But the way they're looking at Yue like she's wasting her time on me? That's what gets me heated.
"Leave him alone," Yue stands up even though she's a whole head shorter than him. "He puts in more work than any of you – he just doesn't need to show off to feel good about himself."
Liu Qing smirks, running a hand through his dark hair like he's posing for a photo. "Work? With no dantian? You're wasting your time on dead weight. Train with me instead – I'll show you what real strength looks like."
"I don't want your version of strong," Yue fires back. "All you do is use it to make other people feel small."
His face goes dark for a second, and I tensed up thinking he'd swing at her – but he just snorts and walks off. "We'll see who's wasting their life when the monthly test rolls around next week!"
I pick up the soup and take a sip. It tastes great, but when I look down at my hands – pale, no glow, nothing special – that empty feeling hits me all over again.
Yue lets out a long sigh. "I'm sorry… now he'll be even more of a jerk to you."
"It's fine," I say, even though it's not. "He's always been like this."
When training wraps up, I head straight to the kitchens. Old Man Li's got his hands full – Master Wei's hosting a bunch of bigwigs from other clans for lunch, and we need everything ready by noon. I peel carrots, scrub rice until the water runs clear, carry trays that weigh more than I do. It's the kind of work that makes sense – no magic required, just muscle and focus.
Old Man Li claps me on the shoulder while I'm chopping cabbage. "Don't let those knuckleheads get to you, kid. Strength ain't just about making pretty lights in the air – sometimes it's about showing up and doing the work nobody else wants to."
I don't say much, but it helps. While we're working, I hear Liu Qing and his crew laughing outside the kitchen door. "Hey Waste Feng – don't drop that food, we need every bite!" they yell. I keep chopping, my hands steady even though my face's burning hot.
After we're done, I head back to my room and find a plate of steamed buns sitting on the doorstep – pork and bamboo shoots, my favorite. Yue must've left them there while I was busy. I eat them on my bed, and for a little bit, everything feels okay.
But then I lie down and my brain won't shut up. What if Yue's right? What if there is another way to do this? The healers say no way, but what if they're just stuck on how things have always been done?
I sit up so fast I almost fall off the bed. There's this old library on the edge of the clan grounds – nobody goes there anymore, weeds are growing through the cracks in the stone and the windows are covered in dust. I've heard stories about it my whole life – books with old secrets that people used to lock up so nobody could mess with them. Clan rules say only masters and elders can go in, but honestly? I don't care anymore.
I pull on some dark robes so I don't stand out and sneak out. The path's overgrown, thorns are tearing at my sleeves, but I keep going. When I get there, the door's wide open – nobody bothers locking it anymore. Inside, it smells like old paper and time itself. Moonlight streams through the high windows, making dust motes dance like tiny fireflies.
Shelves go all the way up to the ceiling, packed with books that look like they've been here since the world started. I make my way to the back corner where the oldest stuff is kept, running my fingers along the spines. Most are too beat up to read, but then – my hand hits something different. Heavy, dark cover, no title on it, and it's warm to the touch even though the room's cold.
I carry it over to the window and flip it open. Silver words start glowing on the page, bright enough to read even in the dark:
If you're here looking for a way to fix a shattered dantian – stop. Some things can't be glued back together, but they can be remade. The old ways use one spot to hold all your power. There's another path – turn your whole body into the vessel.
My heart's pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. I keep reading – slow moves, weird breathing tricks, weaving energy through every muscle and bone instead of piling it all in one place. There are diagrams showing lines I've never seen before, circles that seem to throb like they're alive.
I read until the moon's low in the sky, every word feeling like a light turning on in a room I thought was always gonna be dark. When I finally close the book, I know one thing for sure – this is it. My mission starts now. No more being "Waste Feng." It's time to make my own way in cultivation.
I sneak back to my room just as the sky starts to turn gray – if anyone saw me coming from the library, I'd probably get stuck with extra chores for a month, or worse. I slip the book under my bed, wrap it in an old cloth so it doesn't stand out, then collapse on my mattress. But I can't sleep – my brain's racing with every word I just read.
Turn your whole body into the vessel.
What does that even mean? All my life, I've been told that cultivation is about filling up your dantian like a water jug – but this book says to spread it out, like pouring water through every crack and crevice of a sponge.
I decide to start before dawn. The clan's training grounds get busy once the sun's up, so I find a spot in the woods behind our quarters – a little clearing with a stream running through it, hidden by thick trees. It's the kind of place nobody goes unless they're trying to avoid people.
I pull out the book and let the silver words glow in the dim light. The first exercise is called the "Root Stance" – you stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and breathe in a slow count of eight, hold for eight, breathe out for eight. Sounds easy enough, right?
Wrong.
I try to get into position, but my legs start shaking after just a minute. The breathing's even harder – I keep either holding my breath too long until my head spins, or letting it out too fast like I'm running from something. For the first hour, all I do is stumble through the stance, mess up my breathing, and feel like a total idiot. I keep thinking about what Liu Qing would say if he saw me – "Waste Feng can't even stand still right!"
But then… something shifts.
I'm on my third try, my legs are burning, and I'm about to give up for the day when I feel it – a tiny tingle in my fingertips, like when your hand falls asleep but way softer. I hold still, keep breathing like the book says, and the feeling creeps up my arms, spreads across my chest, down to my feet. It's warm, like standing in sunlight after being in the cold – and it stays. No rushing out of me like every other time I've tried to hold energy.
I look down at my hands and there's… nothing. No glowing light, no flashy effects. But I feel different. Like my body's finally connected to something I've been reaching for my whole life.
I spend the next six days like this – up before anyone else, training in my secret spot, then heading to the kitchens to work, then sneaking back to practice again after everyone's asleep. Yue notices I'm tired – she keeps leaving extra food for me, and one morning she hands me a small bottle of herbal oil.
"For your muscles," she says, her eyes studying my face. "You look like you've been running marathons or something."
I laugh it off – "Just been helping Old Man Li with heavy stuff" – but I can tell she doesn't buy it. She's always been able to read me like a book.
The closer we get to the monthly test, the more Liu Qing ramps up his trash talk. He's been showing off nonstop – summoning fire whips that crack through the air, making the ground shake when he lands from jumps. Every time he finishes a demonstration, he'll look right at me and yell, "You ready to see what real cultivation looks like, Waste Feng?"
His friends join in too – they even start leaving notes on my door sometimes, little drawings of me dropping swords or tripping over my own feet. I crumple them up and throw them away, but they still get under my skin.
Three days before the test, I try something new from the book – weaving energy through my arms to make them stronger. I pick up a heavy rock by the stream that I've never been able to lift before… and it comes right up, like it weighs nothing. I hold it above my head for ten seconds, then set it down gently. My arms don't even ache.
That's when I make my decision. I'm gonna enter the test.
I find Master Wei after dinner – he's the one who runs the monthly evaluations, a quiet guy with gray hair and eyes that see everything. I walk up to him while he's watering his plants in the courtyard, and my voice comes out way shakier than I want it to.
"Master Wei… I want to sign up for the test."
He stops watering and looks at me. Not with pity or annoyance – just calm, like he's been waiting for me to say it.
"Your dantian, Chen Feng," he says gently. "You know the rules – only disciples who can manifest spiritual energy are allowed to compete."
"I know," I say, taking a deep breath. "But I've been working on something different. Can you just… give me a chance to show you?"
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Alright. You can compete. But you understand – if you get hurt, it's on you. And if you can't hold your own, I'll have to pull you out immediately."
I thank him and head back to my room, my heart pounding. Yue's waiting for me outside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
"I heard you talked to Master Wei," she says. "You're really gonna do this?"
I nod. "I have to. For me… and for you. I'm tired of people thinking you're wasting your time on me."
She smiles then – not sad or worried, but proud, like she knew this day was coming all along. She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
"Then let's get you ready," she says. "I know some defensive moves that might help – even if you can't make shields out of light."
That night, we practice in my secret clearing. Yue shows me how to dodge fast, how to use my body weight to my advantage, how to turn an opponent's strength against them. My new energy flow makes everything easier – I move faster, react quicker, and my body feels stronger than ever.
When we finally stop to rest, I look up at the stars and think about the book under my bed, about the tingle in my fingertips, about all the years people called me "Waste."
The test is tomorrow. It's time to show them what my mission in cultivation is really about.
That's better! Want me to start Chapter 2 where the test actually happens?