This is a snippet of an attempt at writing a xianxia story, let me know if you're interested in me continuing this or if the writing style aggravates you or has some major flaw.

In a small hut was a teenager in a green tunic and tan trousers meditating. Without reason he started to convulse and dropped down twitching as if possessed by an evil spirit. Then just as suddenly he stopped and instead turned around to hack out his guts spitting blood on the stone beneath him. After his coughing fit subsided he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and moved away from the blood and rested his forehead on the cool ground.

Gradually the red receded from his face and he sat up to lean against his bed. He looked around his little stone hut in confusion, “where the fuck am I?”. He pushed his palm against his head and grimaced in pain. “Chen...Hao? I’ve...I’ve transmigrated?”. As he looked around his headache worsened as fragments of memories and thoughts popped into his head. He looked down at his trembling hands, “Reincarnation perhaps rather than transmigration? Wait nope priorities. How doesn’t matter, now is what matters.”

He tried to stand up but stumbled and fell onto his bed. “Maybe I should sleep first,” he put his head down and instantly fell asleep. 

He woke up several hours later feeling more clear headed although his body was still sore like after a heavy workout. He made his way out of the hut with a bucket and walked past rows of similar huts until he arrived at a river. He filled the bucket with water and then set it aside. He splashed water on his face and then paused before removing his clothes and hanging them on a tree as he walked into the river until he was waist deep and washed away the grime and sweat that had accumulated. As he shook off the water he took a moment to admire his new appearance. He looked average and unremarkable; a normal complexion, black eyes and black hair with a slightly chubby physique. 

He returned to his hut and sat down on the bed. After sleeping his new memories had slotted in and he was more familiar with his circumstances. He was an orphan with no backing who luckily succeeded in getting accepted into the Spirit Howling Sect. As an outer disciple still in the 7th stage of qi condensation...he paused for a second to circulate his qi and corrected himself, as a outer disciple of the 1st stage of qi condensation he was essentially a servant who had to do manual labour for the right to eat and cultivate. 

He judged the time by the amount of light in the sky. His task was to provide a certain amount of wood each day by cutting down trees...or no food. He was weak now, weaker than before his failure to...well...cultivate. This would mean that he had to rebuild his cultivation but also that it would take him longer to cut down trees and carry them to the storage hall. He picked up his cultivation manual and read through it, it only covered the qi condensation, but that was all he needed for now. The point of this stage was to strengthen the muscles and skin in preparation for foundation establishment.

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Although it refreshed his memories it didn’t bring him any new information. The method still worked by absorbing evil spirits. Which might explain why the Spirit Howling Sect is so gloomy and even the vegetation and mountains look like some of the colour and life had been drained out of them. He sat cross legged on his bed, back pressed against the cold wall as he circulated his qi. It hurt as the qi passed through damaged qi channels, channels that could be likened to veins and qi to the lifeblood of the spirit,, so he relaxed and his qi moved slower and became more gentle. Where before it crashed against the channel walls the qi now travelled gently like a stream. 

His body rocked as the gentle flow lulled him into peace and a trance. Time passed without him noticing until a clanging shocked him out of his meditation.

“Oi get your asses out of your beds and to your jobs you lazy filth!” similar phrases were shouted. The voice tingled Chen Hao’s memories and he opened his door to have a look at the owner of the voice. Whilst one might expect a man the owner of the voice was a young, average-looking woman. In her hands were two pans that she slammed together. She was not particularly talented but from the rumors she was very talented on her knees and back. He closed the door and filled up a clay bowl with water. He then went back outside, splashed his face and slicked his hair back and gulped down what remained.

Returning the bowl and leaving with an axe he made his way to the forest along with several others. The trees were greyish and lacked colour. Everyone raised their axes and started to chop. The rhythmic sound of axes colliding with trees filled the area. To his surprise each strike made a significant impact no different from his usual work. He had expected the difficulty to be similar to when he first came to the sect but it looked like although his cultivation had decreased the same did not apply to his body. That aroused his curiosity, did that mean that as he re-cultivated his strength would be stronger than someone at the same stage.

He was the fifth to succeed at cutting down his tree. The second was already on his third tree, hacking without care and not taking each trunk to be stored before starting on the next. Chen Hao then buried his axe into the stump and like most of the others he started to drag his tree to the storage building. He pulled it by the branches instead of lifting the trunk to save on energy wastage. It took him 5 minutes to drag the tree to the storage building where a stiff faced man in his 20s wearing a green robe ticked off the contribution.

He journeyed back whilst his belly grumbled. Unfortunately he couldn’t enjoy breakfast if he didn’t provide at least 5 trees. As he returned he noticed a few senior brothers and sisters beating the second fastest black and blue. The stomped on him like he was a cockroach, he unfortunately-for him-didn’t possess a cockroach’s recovery ability. Chen Hao lowered his head to hide his smile and ignored the scene as he picked up his axe and began to chop his 2nd tree. As he was working he kept his ears open and the sound of squealing and cries like a pig being slaughtered pulled at some remnant strings of conscience lingering in his heart as it made an uncomfortable feeling settle in his gut.

Naturally he ignored such irrational and trouble making feelings as he focused on his own task. Besides he knew that the fool would only be beaten and this would serve as a lesson to an idiot who had not learnt the rules of the sect.