I woke up in a real bed.
I thought I was dead.
Then I moved and felt every lash line on my back light up like fire.
Nope. Still alive. Sadly.
I looked around.
Clean room.
Stone walls.
Actual blanket.
No rats.
No mud floor.
What???
A medic walked in, saw me awake, and said, "Don't touch the bandages."
I said, "Where am I?"
He replied, "Officer camp annex."
I blinked.
"Wrong room then."
He didn't laugh.
"No. Right room. Levy casualty count was too high. Surviving bodies are being reassigned."
Surviving bodies.
Nice phrase.
He changed my bandages like he was wrapping broken furniture.
The ointment stung so bad I saw my ancestors.
I hissed, "What is this, acid?"
He said, "If it hurts, it's working."
Medical science remains evil in every world.
After he left, I sat up slowly and checked system.
"Status."
Nothing.
"Stats."
Nothing.
"Skills."
Nothing.
After ten seconds:
[Route: Survival]
I stared at it.
"That's not a UI. That's a threat."
No response.
Later they marched me outside with other survivors.
Very short line.
Because, you know, everyone else died.
Officer camp was different.
Cleaner armor.
Cleaner faces.
Cleaner everything.
Even the air felt expensive.
Then I saw him.
My half-brother.
Official son.
Same eyes as our father. Better everything than me.
He wore trainee officer gear with silver trim and had that annoying posture rich people are born with.
He saw me and paused.
Just for a second.
Then he looked away.
Like we were strangers.
Honestly? Fair.
To him I'm background NPC with shared DNA.
We got assigned tasks.
I expected "go die at wall again."
Instead I got runner duty between training yards and supply rooms because I could still walk.
While running messages, I passed the inner drill court.
And then I saw it.
Officer cadets training.
At first I thought it was normal sword drills.
Then one of them thrust forward and the air popped.
Like a pressure wave.
Another punched a wooden dummy and split it clean through the chest.
No rune circle.
No machine.
No trick mechanism I could see.
Just body and force.
I stopped walking.
An instructor snapped at me, "Move."
I moved.
Fast.
But I kept watching whenever I could.
Their breathing was synchronized.
Their stances were precise.
When they moved, there was this faint shimmer around hands and weapons, like heat haze.
That night I asked a kitchen worker, "How are they doing that?"
He looked at me like I asked why water is wet.
"Cultivation."
I waited.
He kept scrubbing pans.
I said, "Yeah no, I need more than one word."
He sighed.
"Elites start young. Breathing methods. Body tempering. Herb baths. Guided channels. By your age they're usually at Chi Gathering or close."
I stared at him.
"Since when?"
He snorted.
"Since always. You think nobles rule with table manners?"
Oh.
OH.
So this whole world has been running manhua software in the background this entire time.
And I'm on free trial mode with no features.
I went back to my bunk and tried system again.
"Do I cultivate?"
Nothing.
"Can I cultivate?"
Nothing.
"Any manual? Beginner guide? Breathing app?"
After a while:
[Route: Survival]
I laughed into my blanket like a crazy person.
Of course.
Next day I got sent to deliver water to the inner court.
I saw my half-brother sparring with two cadets at once.
He was fast.
Not just "trained fast."
Different fast.
He shifted, stepped, and his palm strike made one cadet slide back like he got hit by a cart.
Instructor nodded.
"Good. Chi control improving."
My half-brother asked, "Can I attempt Second Coil this month?"
Instructor replied, "If your father approves resources."
Resources.
Right.
Even power has a subscription plan.
I stood there holding a water bucket, uniform still crusted with old blood, lash scars itching under my shirt.
He caught my eye for half a second.
Then dismissed me again.
I carried the bucket back to storage and sat down behind the shed.
Hands shaking. Jaw tight.
Not from fear.
From anger.
Back on Titan: older brother gets elite track.
Here: half-brother gets elite track.
Different universe. Same humiliation.
I closed my eyes.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
Tried to feel anything like chi.
Warmth. Flow. Spark. Whatever.
Nothing.
Just pain.
Then system text appeared.
Small. White. Rude.
[Resilience +1]
I opened my eyes.
"That's it?"
No answer.
Of course.
Still no stats panel.
Still no cultivation manual.
Still no help.
Just Survival Route and resilience crumbs after suffering.
I leaned back against the shed wall and looked up at the manor lights above officer camp.
So that was the real map:
Nobles cultivate.
Officers inherit techniques.
Poor kids inherit graves.
And me?
I'm a bastard with lash scars and a system that only pays out when I get wrecked.
Fine.
If that's the rule, I'll use the rule.
Hit me.
I'll level anyway.