Qin Hao stood stiffly, his muscles tense, trying to suppress the urge to fall to his knees. It was only now, in the presence of people far above his cultivation level, that he realized the gravity of his earlier bravado.
Feng Zhiming couldn't help but smirk. He had overheard Qin Hao's attempts to impress Zhu Li, a junior sister who clearly held his admiration. Feng Zhiming, in a rare moment of generosity, decided to lend a hand. After all, when it came to matters of women, he considered himself an expert, a self-proclaimed one, at least.
“Little brother Qin, you remember me, don’t you? We met at the sect gathering over at the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect," Feng Zhiming said, draping his arm around Qin Hao’s shoulders as if they were old friends reunited. His voice carried the effortless charm of someone who had navigated countless social situations.
Qin Hao blinked, caught off guard. “I—” he began, but Feng Zhiming cut him off smoothly.
“Nonsense! Don’t you recall when the matriarch praised your cultivation talent? I suspect being a Spiritual Awakener lies in your future. Speaking of which, some of the sisters in the sect are still waiting for your reply to being their Dao companion.”
With that, Feng Zhiming managed to steer Qin Hao away from Zhu Li and around the corner into a quiet alley. The sudden shift from the bustling street to the secluded alley was jarring for Qin Hao, who now found himself alone with Feng Zhiming.
“Senior, forgive me, but I really don’t remember you,” Qin Hao said, his voice tinged with confusion as he knelt and cupped his hands in respect.
“Relax,” Feng Zhiming said, waving his hand dismissively. “I just helped you save face in front of your junior sister.”
Qin Hao looked up at Feng Zhiming, his gaze now filled with respect and a hint of awe. This man, who had so effortlessly stepped in to aid him, seemed to be a true master of both words and action.
Meanwhile, Zhu Li stood awkwardly beside Anissa, who remained as impassive as ever. Anissa, though powerful, was clearly out of her element in the realm of small talk. Zhu Li, on the other hand, felt a mixture of intimidation and curiosity standing next to someone of Anissa's caliber. The silence between them was thick with unspoken thoughts, each one more uncomfortable than the last.
Back in the alley, Qin Hao, emboldened by Feng Zhiming’s gesture, felt a surge of loyalty. “Please, command this little brother. He will do anything to repay your kindness.”
Feng Zhiming smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. These were the types of people he found easiest to deal with—those who wore their hearts on their sleeves, open books waiting to be read.
“Truthfully, I am a disciple of the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect. I’ve come here on a mission from the second elder and need to speak with your sect leader,” Feng Zhiming said, his tone shifting to one of seriousness.
Qin Hao’s eyes widened slightly, and he gulped. The second elder of the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect, one of the most powerful figures on the continent had personally sent this man on a mission. The weight of such a responsibility was immense, and Qin Hao felt a renewed sense of duty.
“Please allow me to escort you to the sect, Senior Brother,” he replied enthusiastically, his voice brimming with newfound determination.
…
A few days later, Feng Zhiming found himself sitting by a campfire in the heart of the Wildlands, staring into the flickering flames. The desert night was cold, the temperature plummeting after the intense heat of the day. The flames danced before him, chaotic and unpredictable, yet strangely mesmerizing. They consumed everything in their path without discrimination or malice. It was simply the nature of fire.
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"If fire burns something, it isn’t evil, it’s simply a fire doing what it does. Yet people would demonize the flame," Feng Zhiming thought to himself. These musings were common for him, thoughts that wandered into the realms of philosophy and existentialism—questions without clear answers, or rather, answers that defied acceptance.
He reached into his storage ring and retrieved a worn, tattered book. The cover was plain, devoid of any elaborate design, with only the simple title etched into it: “Of Qi and of Quanta, by Zhishi Wu.” Feng Zhiming murmured the title to himself, tracing the letters with his fingers.
Long ago, in his desperation to cultivate, he had stolen this book. To his dismay, it contained no cultivation techniques or secrets to attaining power. Instead, it was filled with the ramblings of a man named Zhishi Wu—ramblings that spoke of life, philosophies, faiths, and the nature of humanity. It was a book that, despite its lack of practical use in cultivation, had imparted to Feng Zhiming a deeper understanding of what it meant to be alive.
He hadn’t learned how to live from the manual, but he had learned what living was.
Shaking his head, Feng Zhiming placed the book back into his storage ring. This was not the time for reminiscing.
Over the past few days, he had come to understand the harsh realities of the Wildlands. The days were scorching, the nights bitterly cold. While Feng Zhiming and Anissa were largely unaffected due to their high cultivation and spiritually inscribed robes, the two teenagers they traveled with were not so fortunate. The fire they had lit was more for their benefit than anything else.
“I really dislike this travel arrangement,” Anissa sent a mental transmission over to Feng Zhiming, her voice tinged with frustration.
Feng Zhiming chose to ignore the message. Watching Anissa struggle to interact with the two young cultivators was almost amusing, like watching an introverted child forced into social situations they were ill-prepared for.
Throughout their journey, Anissa had spoken only a few words, and the two Qi Condensation cultivators barely dared to speak to her. How could they, when the gulf between their power levels was so vast?
“What do you think of the situation with the Sect?” Feng Zhiming sent a mental transmission back to Anissa, watching as she slowly roasted sausages over the fire. It seemed that his own fondness for good food was starting to rub off on her.
From Qin Hao, Feng Zhiming had learned that the sect they were heading towards was led by a cultivator at the Condensed Stage of Spiritual Awakening, with two elders at the Quasi-Spiritual Awakening stage. The sect was relatively strong, though not unrivaled.
“The Flowing River Sect should be similar in strength. If a war occurs, it’s a complete victory since we’re assisting the Hiding Demon Sect,” Anissa replied via mental transmission, her focus still on roasting the sausage to perfection.
Feng Zhiming agreed with her assessment. Their deliberation ended, and Anissa ate her sausage in silence while Feng Zhiming turned his gaze upward. The moon, surrounded by an asteroid belt, cast its pale light over the desert sands. It was a sight both alien and familiar, different from the moon of his home world yet captivating in its own right.
He stood and walked up a small hill of sand, seeking a better view of the night sky. The moon, the stars, the cool breeze, it was in moments like these that he truly felt alive. The presence of uncertainty, the brush of wind against his skin, the roughness of the sand beneath his feet, these were the things that made life worth living.
As he stood there, Feng Zhiming felt a surge within him, a breakthrough that he had been holding back since arriving in this world. But now, it was unstoppable, overflowing like a river breaking through a dam.
“This is what he meant by being alive,” he said quietly, taking a deep breath as his Ethereal Core, once hazy like a cloud, condensed into a solid, medium-sized bead. It glowed like a small sun, with minuscule black dots scattered throughout, an embodiment of his newfound power.
“Congratulations,” Anissa said, arriving beside him quickly after noticing his breakthrough.
Feng Zhiming could feel himself drawing closer to a significant change. Yet, as he neared Spiritual Awakening, a sense of unease stirred within him, a growing fear of what might happen if he crossed that threshold.
“If you were walking down a path and didn’t know where it would lead, what would you do?” he asked Anissa, his hands clasped behind his back, his mind lost in thought.
“I would walk the path regardless,” she replied without hesitation. “My father often told me, a path not traveled is a path that could go beyond any other.”
“The conviction of a swordsman, I suppose,” Feng Zhiming mused, nodding as he spoke.
Suddenly, a message interrupted his thoughts:
[Assembly-wide announcement to all Ethereal Core Participants]
[The Creature of the Wildlands is a worthy opponent. No one has managed to hunt it yet. The quality of the reward has been raised.]