A year had passed since Wuji, formerly Amar Kumar awakened to his true self in the small village of Celestial Harmony. He had spent the last twelve months quietly observing, learning everything there was to know about the world around him.

The other villagers saw him as a curious child, eager to absorb knowledge, constantly asking questions or listening in on the conversations of adults. Because of his youth, no one thought twice about indulging his curiosity.

Wuji had learned about the harvest cycles, the structure of the village, and even the beliefs of the people. He listened intently to the stories the elders told around the fire, soaking up every word. His modern mind, trained in the scientific principles of Earth, categorized and dissected this new world. But the more he learned, the more questions piled up.

One evening, as the village blacksmith and a group of farmers gathered to share a jug of rice wine, Wuji overheard something that set his mind racing.

"It's a shame, really," one of the farmers said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "The Qi in the mountains is so dense, but it's not for the likes of us."

The blacksmith grunted in agreement, his hands still busy with a half-forged plow. "Aye, only the nobles and those aristocrats up north can cultivate it. We've got our hands in the dirt, while they live for centuries, walking on clouds."

The words struck Wuji like a hammer. Qi? Centuries? Walking on clouds? He leaned in closer, his small figure unnoticed by the men.

"That's how they do it, huh?" the farmer continued. "They use Qi, that mystical energy, to cultivate their bodies and souls. Makes 'em stronger, faster—damn near immortal. And what do we have? Nothing. We're stuck in the muck while they keep all the secrets."

The blacksmith chuckled darkly. "Not much we can do, friend. It's always been this way. They've kept the knowledge locked up tight. Only nobles and the wealthiest families get to learn how to control Qi. The rest of us are just fodder."

Wuji's mind whirled. Qi, the fundamental energy of this world, could grant immortality, power, and more. Yet, it was restricted—guarded by the nobles and aristocratic families who ruled the land.

It wasn't the first time Wuji had encountered a hoarding of knowledge; on Earth, he had seen corporations, governments, and powerful families do the same with technology, wealth, and information. But this was different.

His five-year-old body trembled with anger, emotions bubbling up faster than he could rationalize them. He was not angry because the nobles were hoarding power—he had seen that plenty of times on Earth—but because this secret knowledge meant he would never be able to satisfy his insatiable curiosity about this world.

Without learning to control Qi, he would never understand the essence of this world's energy, and never discover how to push the limits of his new existence.

He clenched his fists. The child's body was still affecting his mind—his emotions surged stronger, more uncontrollable than they had when he was Amar. He forced himself to calm down. There had to be another way.

As if on cue, one of the farmers spoke up. "You know, every ten years, those sects come down from the mountains to hold their disciple exams. They take in boys and girls from thirteen to sixteen. S'posedly, the sects teach cultivation even to common folk. My cousin's boy up north got into one of them sects... came back a year later, stronger than a bull."

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The sects.

Wuji's anger melted into excitement. That's it. A way in. If he could pass the sect's exams, he could learn to cultivate, understand Qi, and unlock the secrets of this world. The exams were nine years away, but that gave him time—time to prepare, time to train.

That night, Wuji lay awake, his heart pounding with anticipation. He needed to be ready. If there was even the slightest chance that he could learn to cultivate, he would seize it.

-----

While other children played in the village square, Wuji started his exercises. His regimen was based on what he knew from Earth—basic calisthenics, running, and the martial arts moves he had memorized.

The village guards, who often trained to fend off wild beasts, were another source of inspiration. He learned from watching them practice, incorporating their techniques into his own training.

One afternoon, as he was practicing alone in a clearing behind the orphanage, a soft voice called out.

"Wuji, child, what are you doing?" It was Mother Qin, the middle-aged woman in charge of the orphanage. Everyone called her "Mother." She was a kind, gentle soul who treated each of the orphans as her own. She had seen the change in Wuji over the last year—the quiet determination, the relentless curiosity, and the intense focus he applied to everything he did.

Wuji, his shirt damp with sweat, paused and wiped his forehead. "I'm training, Mother," he replied, catching his breath. "I need to be strong."

Mother Qin frowned, her expression filled with concern. "You've been training every day, without a break. You're still so young, Wuji. You should take time to rest, play with the other children. What's the hurry?"

Wuji looked up at her, a determined glint in his eyes. "I don't have much time," he said simply. "The sect exams are only nine years away. If I don't prepare, I won't have a chance to learn Qi."

She knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're driven, Wuji. I've seen it in your eyes. You're a child, but sometimes you remind me of someone far older." She paused, her voice softening. "But you must not push yourself too hard. Even the strongest warriors rest. Your body is still growing."

Wuji nodded, appreciating her concern, but inside he knew that he couldn't slow down. He had a purpose that none of the other children could understand.

"I'll rest when I need to, Mother" he said with a small smile. "But I need to keep training."

Mother Qin sighed but didn't press him further. She knew he was determined, and that determination was a double-edged sword.

One day, as Wuji was going through his routine, two figures approached him. Mei, the bubbly girl from the village who was always smiling, and Jinhai, a tall, heavy boy two years older than Wuji, stood watching him curiously.

"What are you doing?" Mei asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Wuji stopped mid-punch and glanced at them. "I'm training for the sect exams," he replied, catching his breath. "To learn Qi."

"Qi?" Mei echoed, her face lighting up with excitement. "I've heard stories about that! You want to become like the immortals?"

Wuji nodded. "Yes. But it's not just that. I want to understand this world. And to do that, I need to control Qi."

Jinhai, who had been silent until now, crossed his arms. "That sounds hard. But I like a challenge," he said with a grin. "Can I train with you?"

Wuji shrugged. "If you want. But it won't be easy."

From that day on, Mei and Jinhai started training with Wuji. Every morning, while the other children played, the three of them would exercise, run, and spar. Mei, though younger and smaller, was quick and eager to learn, while Jinhai's size made him a natural in physical challenges.

Within weeks, other children noticed and, intrigued by their dedication, began joining in. The clearing behind the orphanage soon became a small training ground for the orphans. Wuji led them, showing them exercises and sharing what little he knew about Qi and the sect exams.

But as time passed, the novelty wore off for most of the children. The training was grueling, and soon they began to drop out, one by one. After two months, only four remained: Wuji, Mei, Jinhai, and a thin, introverted boy named Zhen, who was the same age as Wuji but much quieter.

Though the group had shrunk, their resolve only grew stronger. Wuji knew that this was only the beginning of a long journey, but he felt a deep satisfaction seeing the few who stayed with him.

'The sect exams are nine years away,' he reminded himself every day, pushing his body beyond its limits. 'And when the time comes, I will be ready.'