The evening passed slowly, with the usual routine of dinner and minor estate matters dragging on.

Victor sat in the lit dining hall, a modest assortment of dishes laid out before him. His fork moved mechanically, tracing patterns in the mashed turnips, his mind awash with anticipation and a gnawing sense of unease.

His change in demeanor from the previous Victor caused a ripple of quiet speculation among the house staff. Thankfully, no one seemed scared when they met his gaze.

His mind remained fixed on the upcoming attempt to sense his mana core. This step might mix his soul with another's memories, changing him in ways he couldn't predict. This uncertainty hung over him, making him feel uneasy.

Unable to sit still any longer with these thoughts swirling around, Victor pushed his chair back with a quiet scrape and made his way back to his chambers. The corridors of the estate echoed with the soft thuds of his boots, each step resonating like a somber drumbeat marking the passage of time. He knew what he was getting into was risky and could change him deeply. But it was time to face it, ready to hold onto the good feelings and push away any harmful ones.

From this day, only he would remain, one way or another.

Upon entering his room, his gaze was immediately drawn to a small velvet box perched ominously on his desk. Lifting the lid, a wave of incense—a blend of cedar and sage—wafted through the air, momentarily transporting him to a forgotten woodland temple.

Inside the box lay a Five Sense Sealing Pill, its surface smooth and almost iridescent under the candlelight. With a steady hand, Victor picked it up, the pill cool against his skin. He paused, studying its intricate markings, before swallowing it in one fluid motion.

Descending onto the cold, stone floor of his chamber, Victor crossed his legs and closed his eyes. As he closed his eyes, the world outside began to fade—a symphony of sensory deprivation that enveloped him in near silence. The distant call of the wind through the corridors, the faint crackle of the candle—all dwindled into nothingness. His external world dimmed, leaving him in a cocoon of inner silence.

The world around him grew quieter until all he could focus on was the rhythmic beat of his heart and the steady flow of mana within him.

The suppression of his external senses heightened his internal awareness, drawing his attention inward.

Victor concentrated on the space where he knew his mana core should be. At first, there was nothing but a void, an empty space that seemed impenetrable. But as the minutes passed, he began to sense a pulse of mana appeared, weak and fleeting, before vanishing out of existence.

Encouraged by this small sign, Victor redoubled his efforts. He visualized his mana as a stream of silver light, flowing toward this nascent glow, feeding it, urging it to grow. Slowly, the flicker expanded, becoming a black orb of energy at the center of his being.

As the orb stabilized, memories began to seep through the cracks of his focused mind. Hazy and fragmented at first but gradually coalescing into clearer images. He was a child again, running through fields kissed by the sun, the air filled with laughter, and the sweet scent of summer blooms. His parents, a mid-twenties ruggedly handsome man and beautiful woman with warm smiles and gentle eyes, watched him affectionately. His mother’s violet eyes with a golden hue sparkled with pride and joy. The same eyes that he had inherited.

Then, the memories shifted. Victor remembered a girl brought by their parents when he was five. Eveline, two years older than him, with stormy blue and gold eyes. She was their parents' closed-door disciple, a genius in her own right.

His parents' sudden departure amidst the turmoil of the Noble's War left the estate vulnerable. They had left in haste, leaving the House without proper structure. With their absence, the problems started appearing one after another.

First came the external threats from other houses, sensing weakness and seeking to exploit it. Then, the internal dissension grew, factions within the house vying for power in the vacuum left by his parents. The house, once united, was now divided, its strength eroded by infighting and betrayal.

Eveline also had to grow up fast. Just one year ago, at fifteen, she joined the prestigious Astral Academy in the capital, a move meant to stabilize their house’s situation by aligning with more powerful allies. Her departure, while necessary, felt like another blow to Victor. It stabilised the House briefly but his Blank core situation worsened the power struggle.

Victor had started at the local academy at the age of ten. This early education was primarily to prepare him for the core attribute ceremony that took place when students turned twelve. At that age, a cavity known as the core would manifest within a child's body. Once it manifested, it would naturally give birth to that child's mana attribute.

This was where Victor's problem lay. Even though his mana core had appeared, no mana attribute had manifested within it. It was completely empty. Cases like this were incredibly rare and were generally referred to as having a Blank Core. Without a mana attribute to serve as a foundation for drawing and refining energy from the natural world, it was exceedingly difficult for him to gain a high level of magical power.

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The academy had conducted numerous tests to understand why this was the case. The whole point of learning mana arts was to be able to apply one's magical power to greater effect, but if one's power was weak to begin with, there was a limit to what even the most profound arts could achieve.

After subjecting Victor to a battery of tests, the administrators concluded that his body simply, innately, lacked any mana attribute. In the future, it would be incredibly difficult for him to advance in his cultivation.

Among these memories, one stood out: a hidden chamber within the bedroom, accessible only through a concealed passage. In this chamber, Victor had stored items of great importance, including a journal detailing his research on mana core and the events leading up to his current predicament.

Victor sat cross-legged on the low wooden stool, a small clay cup of steaming tea cradled between his hands, gazing into the horizon where the sun’s first rays bled into the sky. The journal detailing the research was placed open beside him.

Despite his situation, there wasn’t much change in his personality, just a simple increase in affection and some distaste. “Guess my personality adjustments got pushed to the back because I’m a crippled cultivator,” he quipped wryly, smiling at the irony.

He had been drawn to the training yard's serene beauty, a stark contrast to the drab, concrete views of his new life.

Victor's heart sank with envy and a pang of self-pity. He was truly alone here, a stranger in a foreign land and time.

His journey from his mundane life as a university student to this world of martial prowess that he enjoyed for more than a week was marred by a crippling reality— he was bound by his own physical limitations in a world that revered strength.

He let out a sigh, frustration coloring his tone. Great, from student loans to being a crippled cultivator. What's next? Getting scammed by a mystic herbalist promising miracle cures?

He chuckled at his own joke, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet morning. He had already met the Healer Lady, so maybe the miracle cures were not far.

His situation was really cliché. Here he was, in a world where people flew and shattered stones with their bare hands, and he could barely muster enough mana to warm his tea.

The memories of his dreams about flying came crashing back, to collide with the harsh reality of his condition. "Guess I won't be soaring through the skies anytime soon," he mumbled, lost in his thought.

Taking another reluctant sip of the bitter tea, Victor decided then and there that if he couldn't fly, he'd at least learn to walk properly in this new world. Maybe he couldn't access the high-level techniques, but he wouldn't let that stop him from mastering the basics. After all, he had overcome organic chemistry; how hard could basic cultivation be?

With a newfound resolve, he set his cup down and slowly stood up, his movements deliberate. "Let's start with walking then," he muttered, taking a step forward, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "One small step for Victor, one giant leap for cripple-kind."

The crisp morning air carried a hint of jasmine, energizing him. He was eager to practice a movement technique he had discovered among his memories— The Wind Walker Technique.

The Wind Walker Technique was a basic technique in the martial world for its ability to enhance a practitioner's speed and agility to near supernatural levels, as if the winds themselves lifted and carried them. It wasn't just about running fast; it was about moving with the subtlety of a breeze and the suddenness of a gust.

Victor started with deep, controlled breaths, aligning his internal mana with the natural currents of wind that the temple's high altitude offered. He could feel the cool, playful tugs of wind around his limbs, inviting him to yield to its whims. As he synchronized his breathing with these subtle flows, his body began to feel lighter, his feet barely touching the gravel.

"Think like the wind, be the wind," he murmured to himself, recalling the mantra from the memories.

Channeling his mana through his meridians, he felt a surge of energy rush to his legs. The teachings dictated that one should imagine becoming one with the wind, neither resisting it nor controlling it, but rather embodying its essence.

With a focused mind, he visualized himself as a leaf caught in a whirlwind, weightless and swift. Taking his first step, a blue light flashed through his legs as Victor barely made a sound. The gravel underfoot didn't crunch; it merely whispered.

But before the next foot came down, the expected lightness and swift motion didn't follow. Instead, there was a jarring misalignment of mana, and his foot slammed into the ground much harder than intended.

His body, unaccustomed to the sudden shift in energy, stumbled, and he fell to the ground with a thud that jolted him back to reality.

"Theory and practice—still not the same," Victor thought wryly as he lost his balance.

Lying there, Victor couldn't help but laugh softly at himself. "Guess I'm not skipping any steps in this world, either," he thought, brushing dirt from his robes.

He had superpowers. Even though he was not enough to fly, Victor was giddy as he moved like the wind. Without a core to cultivate and store mana, every burst of speed, every maneuver borrowed energy from the world around him but left nothing for him to store, no way to progress further in his cultivation.

The excitement of mastering the Wind Walker Technique was dampened by the realization that this might be the peak of his abilities.

The idea was frustrating, and for a moment, Victor felt the sting of injustice. Why him? Why was he denied the core that could have unlocked limitless flight? He kicked at the loose earth, a small cloud of dust rising and then settling quickly, as fleeting as his own potential seemed to be.

His fun didn’t last, however, as he felt his mana drop and lost his breath. Dropping all else, he quickly sat crossed-legged on the ground and closed his eyes.

With a heavy heart, Victor resumed his practice, pushing his body to adapt to his unique limitations. No wonder the young lord was left here in this old province. No wonder he had a bad temper with people lower than him.

But even if there was no solution, he would find it on his own.