(Two Weeks Later)

John let the battered clay mug of weak wine clatter on the table with a sigh of contentment, before mopping his bowl with a morsel of steamed bun. His sigh turned into a discreet belch which he embarrassedly tried to hide in his hand, scanning the cozy common room with wild eyes before ducking his head.

He’d been staying  at this inn for two weeks consolidating his cultivation and waiting for his injuries to heal. He had been pleasantly surprised to find most of his injuries half healed the morning of his escape, and, after buying some more appropriate trousers from a fripper, John had crossed most of the entire city before renting this room to continue his convalescence. The staff was friendly, the food surprisingly good for this economic and developmental period, and when he was vague about his story no one tried digging into his background. There was only one problem.

“Little brother Guo! I see you still love this big sis’s cooking. I told you not to eat so fast. Also, is that your third bowl of wine? Aiya, you should have some nice warm water.”

The words came from about 20 centimeters above the stunningly large bosom that was definitely on full display as the speaker leaned close over the low wooden table. John wouldn’t know, as he was staring straight at his plate and not at all fighting the surge of hormones that tried to drag his traitorous eyes upward. John may be in a teen’s body, but he was a grown ass man, and a nice pair of tits on a mischievious type who pushed all his buttons wouldn’t have that sort of impact on him. In fact he knew the best way to stop this parade of harassment would be to take lecherous look, smirk and say something douchey. Then she’d be tired of the game or just move straight to shilling for coin like any other service worker. Steeling his resolve once again John squared his shoulders and looked Mei Liang dead in the eye, then felt his eyes flutter over her body in jerky spasms as his face filled with blood and John felt like his heart would spasm out of his chest while he stuttered.

“N-nno need miss Mei… I’m fine.”

‘God damn it body!”

She smiled in delight at John’s clear mortification, leaning in so close he could feel the heat of her breath grazing his ear, his body shivering and freezing in place, eyes focused on her cleavage as they willed the cleverly and well secured top to somehow let Liang’s breasts pop free.

“Are you sure? And I told you don’t be formal, call me big sis.” She leaned back and shimmied as she slowly asked “Is there a-ny th-ing else this bi-ig s-is can do for her cute little brother Guo Jing?”

‘Just say “Stop being a tease and tell me your rate.” She’ll either name one or be offended and then you’ll be free!’

“I-I’m f-f-fine big sis…”

‘DAMN YOU CHU FENG! YOU DESERVED TO DIE FOR BEING SO USELESS AROUND WOMEN, AND DESERVE TO DIE AGAIN FOR IT BEING MEMETICALLY CONTAGIOUS!’

“Such a good little brother,” Mei Liang purred as she leaned over and pecked his forehead while grabbing his bowl and mug. “Oh, you’re all flush again. I wonder why?”

The demoness had the gall to giggle as she walked his bowl to the kitchen before checking on the other guests. A scarred and disheveled drunk looked at John with such withering disgust that the flush and waves of embarrassment/arousal actually faded under a new and fascinating blushing wave of shame/self-hatred.

It had become more and more evident in the time since his transmigration that John had gotten more than memories from his new body. Along with Chu Feng’s iron ambition to become a peerless cultivator, John also had crippling social anxiety outside of martial settings. It was hard to notice when simply reviewing the memories, as Chu Feng was a cultivation nut as well as a social outcast so he rarely actually had contacts that didn’t relate to cultivation. This social weakness was, fortunately, trainable and resolving it had quickly climbed to number three on his list of priorities, just under becoming a martial arts super god and survival.

Fortunately, John knew enough amateur psychology and social engineering to overcome this block. It just took repetition.

John took in the pitying look the innkeep was giving him and sighed again.

Painful, painful repition.

******

Walking at three quarter speed up the narrow stairs to the second landing, John returned to his room. While more reminiscent of a monk’s cell than a hotel room, it had a soft pallet, a table with wash bowl, a trunk to put his belongings in and thick latches on the shutters and doors. He had given his next steps considerable thought during his stay, and had come up with a list of short and long term goals that could be roughly reduced to two points.

1. Get gud.

2. Live well.

The baggage of John’s soul for two and the sheer joy he experienced having access to what was basically muscle wizardry made practicing cultivation and learning more about the various cultivation adjacent professions a must. The additional lure of possible immortality was also very hard to ignore.

That said, there was no reason to be ascetic while doing so. In fact, there were several ‘daos’ of excess listed in Chu Feng’s memories, and while John had no interest in becoming an avatar of one of the seven sins, his main goal in his previous life had been to put in a lot of work early so he could basically do what he was going to do now: travel, learn about other cultures and their histories, increase his network of friends, have lots of sex and just generally enjoy his life without having to worry about ending up trying to find work at 70 while eating Fancy Feast and crackers from his 10 dollar a week social security check.

John had owned a middling successful restaurant called Fusion that was a simple conceit on basic Americana and East Asian flavor profiles. He’d started out with three staff and 150 hour work weeks and over the past 5 years had finally gotten to the point where it was pretty much self-supporting and he only needed to monitor that standards were in place and waste and theft were low. Over the next year he had planned to train up his long-time assistant manager and drinking buddy to take over John’s remaining duties while hitting the gym and getting ready for a vacation of epically Dionysian proportions.

And then he’d stroked out after drinking and reading wish fulfillment online serials.

John remembered his first night in this hostel, where the pain, shock and paranoia his situation had generated had faded to the point that he could take a moment and just… come to terms.

(Flashback: OMGWTF)

The heavy door latched shut behind him and John sighed in relief as he gingerly laid himself on the pallet provided with the room. Using his bundled clothes and blankets as a pillow he let the tension from the stress that had clenched every aching muscle his battered body had start to fade, now that his perfectly legitimate fear of being discovered and murdered could be set aside. He’d left the Chu clan’s region of the city that first night and waited out the dawn in a panicked fugue at the first inn he could find. After changing his clothes to match the general look of the populous, he had raced to the southern city gate as fast as he could hobble, and after some deliberation selected the place he was going to hole up and sort his shit. This inn was only one street off the main thoroughfare and seven blocks from the busiest city gate. It offered rooms for a silver tael a day and included two meals which made it affordable to the lower-middle class who were passing through or staying a short while on business, and not at all the sort of place you’d expect an injured clan noble to be hunkering down in.

(That it was also a fairly popular place to grab a meal and drink due to its stacked and boisterous cook and server would become apparent later in his stay, and would have factored positively, as he intended to listen for gossip to get a feel for the city while he convalesced, if she were not an unholy demon.)

Unfortunately, that relaxation allowed the emotions he’d been locking down in his hindbrain to jump out of his mental cellar and scream in his metaphorical ears. John’s heart raced as nausea and cold sent shivers through him as feelings of helplessness and estrangement swirled with his fear and uncertainties. ‘Everything had been on track. Sure it was a little boring at times but I had friends, entertainment, the beginnings of wealth and I was finally able to just relax and enjoy life. Now I’ve got a death sentence, mental contagion and I’ll never get to finish any of those stories on my bookmarks!’

The realization that he would never have access to the internet again broke the last of the wall keeping tears at bay as weak sobs escaped his lips.

(flashback end)

‘Yes, I definitely handled my feelings in a mature and appropriately stoic and manly way, quickly showing my iron cultivators’ will, and didn’t spend two days moping and sleeping with no real plan and ignoring my hygiene.’

Failing to fool even himself, John smiled wryly as he reviewed the small writing desk and the charcoal smudged work paper he had been outlining his plans on. The thick reed paper was covered in cracks but had the advantage of being sturdy enough that one could use a moist rag to clean as a palimpsest without wasting his supply of writing material.

John thought best by writing and making lists, which was a shockingly wasteful and expensive habit in here and so he had limited himself to one broad sheet to work with. Chu Feng’s memories and the few books he’d smuggled out of the Chu compound had been carefully plumbed during his time here, and he had mapped out a course of action.

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John figured his ribs would be mildly tender but mostly healed up in another week. Once he was confident that light exercise wouldn’t complicate his injury he was going to find a physician and get his dantian diagnosed. If there were a reasonable solution to his problem he would follow their advice. If not, some back of the napkin math had shown that he could still cultivate to the Xiantian level, but it would probably take him a good chunk of his lifespan and that would be as high as he reached, his potential spent. The churning nausea at confronting this possibility showed how his inner Chu Feng felt about the matter. He soothed this feeling by glancing at points three and four.

Next was the problem of Chu Feng’s relative weakness. Even non-cultivators would have much more robust physigues than him from absorbing minute traces of the abundant energy of the heavens and earth. Here John had made some pleasant discoveries. Chu Feng had planned to follow the Iron Body Sutra once he’d caught up on qi absorption and quantity, a high grade body cultivation art that followed fairly intensive qi consumption to practice and showed dividends based on qi purity. Perfect if Chu Feng’s plans had panned out but not ideal for John’s current state… or so it would appear on the surface.

In addition to being a total body tempering art, the Iron Body Sutra used the opening of accupoints to basically force qi into the body at specific points to increase physical power. While there were long term benefits to be gained by opening accupoints in a particular sequence, so long as there wasn’t a significant time lag these would be negligible. The orthodox method called for working from the core points to the lesser ones, but the heterodox methods were also described along with their consequences. And one such pattern started with the accupoints in the hand and feets, whose benefit was unleashing a cascade up the meridian pathways, releasing hundreds of minor accupoints in the limbs and potentially unsealing the higher meridians at the same time. The downside is he would be essentially pressure washing all the earthly impurities in his limbs up into his core meridian system, but the Sutra offered a solution to this as well. In the chapters on body tempering it was explained that the pure qi would bond to impurities and they could be expelled through following the base circulation method of the Sutra. If John were to combine these two aspects of the art he would be able to jumpstart his cultivation while giving himself a physical strength well above the average of his peers, all while laying the foundations for quicker future cultivation.

Unlike in many of the web novels John had read in his previous life, there were no hard and fast levels in cultivation, only stages. In the initial stage you were like anyone else, just with more control over your energy. After collecting sufficient power in ones dantian one entered the Houtian stage, where you were still mortal, with a life span no more than a century, and your spiritual power muted, despite being capable of superhuman feats. Houtian was broken into stages based on qi accumulation and density, the vapor, liguid and core stages and were usually referred to as initial, middle, and late stage respectively. The transition to Xiantian required condensing a core while purging your body of sufficient mortal impurities and facing a lightning tribulation, where you would then develop a soul sign above the core according to one’s cultivation method. This sign would transform into the Nascent Soul after another lightning tribulation at the peak of Xiantian, but Chu Feng’s manual only went to low Xiantian and he’d have to figure things out from there.

What do any of those stages have to do with meridians and accupoints? Nothing and everything. In the end it all comes down to qi quantity and cycling, followed by purity. Thus the more channels to manipulate, gather and purify qi, the greater the potential of the cultivator and the speed of their advancement. Chu Feng was a noble from an established lineage with powerful parents, and it was no surprise that of the 12 normal meridians he had 8 freely flowing and only two that were fully blocked off. The extraordinary vessels showed minute openings to his internal senses, as well as five of the divergent meridians. Once this body was tempered it showed strong possibilities of having full access to its potential.

Of course, there was a minor cost to all this development. John was going to basically tap 5 years of painstaking qi accumulation with a healthy dantian, as well as undergo what the texts euphemistically called the ‘trial of the anvil.’ After rereading the relevant passages a few times John was able to translate this as ‘Oh gods, the pain, ahhhhh.’

So, there was that to look forward to.

John had also had another pleasant surprise while he had been cultivating. Apparantly his spiritual sense was much stronger than Chu Feng’s had been before their merger. ‘Transmigrator Perk Get!’ John chuckled to himself as he mused that there were probably other benefits to being what he, in a fit of chunni-esque glee, labeled as twin souled. For now though it meant that even though he was effectively crippled, he could actually cultivate at a rate not too far behind what Chu Feng had accomplished, which meant, if he was correct, that after blasting his meridians and patching his dantian he would actually pull ahead of Chu Feng’s initial goal by several years, jumping straight to the middle of initial Houtian in a matter of months. From there he would have the qi reserves to see if he had any talents for the spirit arts, and if his patchwork soul and rigid mental focus led to further benefits there.

Next there was the Sacred Art that Chu Chang had imparted. The key phrase had been that it would ‘nourish’ his dantian. This same phrasing had been used in one of his herbal primers in reference to the properties of the Violet Chrysanthemum, a rare herb with strong yin properties that was an ingredient in a rarer still elixir that could restore a wasted cultivator’s ability. John’s inner Chu Feng vibrated with eagerness to jump straight into practice, but based on his performance with a flirty tavern worker, John didn’t have much hope of practicing dual cultivation anytime soon. Best wait for the doctor’s diagnosis.

Lastly, and the real reason he was taking his ease instead of rushing to get some and get training, Feng’e…John… was filthy rich.

(Flashback 2: the backflashening)

After John had finished wiping down his body with warm water and the sliver of harsh soap he had purchased from the staff he felt refreshed, if somewhat hollow from the racking alienation, sorrow and fear he’d been wallowing in the last few days. ‘I’m just going to blame all this on puberty and rewrite this episode as showing iron will and stoic manliness in the face of adversity when I pen my memoirs as God King of the Heavens.’ John mused to himself as he doctored his battered pride, before grabbing the meat buns he’d grabbed from a street vendor for his midday meal.

“All right,” he mumbled around a mouthful of rich gravy, “ as the Dread Pirate Roberts advises, lets catalog our assets. Never know when a wheelbarrow or a holocaust cloak will come in handy.”

From his room he had

* One small razor with jade and gold inlay and the Chu chop- sell when out of city or ditch.

* Polished metal mirror, surprisingly reflective for some bronze alloy- keep or sell if necessary.

* Lap desk with fully stocked compartment of papers, linen scrap, charcoal, brush and ink- Keep.

* Four fancy shirts, one pair fancy shoes, one pair newish boots, two pairs of sandles, three silk pants with embroidery, one robe vest pant combo, four sets of small clothes, and three sets of workout clothes. – sell the fancy stuff except for one dress set for meetings.

* Heavy water proof hooded cloak- keep for storms and storming castles

* Beast leather long coat, that would serve as light armor in a pinch- keep

* 4 primers on ancillary arts of herbalism, beast lore, talisman use and spiritual sense- keep until memorized then sell.

* Three memory jades, one from the desk, and two encyclopedia on herbs and beasts –keep.

* Two heavy blankets made of some sort of luxurious fur and a set of linen sheets- comfy and useful, keep.

* 10 gold notes, 5 silver notes, and 75 copper rings- give to the poor! Not. Keep.

Not a bad haul, he had the basics for the next few years and a few of his to sell items were worth gold so he could live in temporary lodging indefinitely if he was frugal. Annual expenses for being an itinerant cultivator with his needs (which were grossly inflated from two pampered lives) were well under three gold, possible miraculous wonder treatment for cracked dantian withstanding.

‘Time to see what I daddy dearest left us.’ John mused before dumping his pack on out onto his carefully brushed and folded fur blankets.

The sounds of a yelp of surprise followed by strangled, then full blown coughing were heard by passing staff and tenants for the next few moments, but the peels of deranged and soon muffled laughter that came at its heels chased the timid daughter of the proprietor who was in charge of cleaning from checking on the strange youth.

A swallow and splash of water after his fit and John turned to look over the enormous wealth lying scattered before him with a twisted smile of gleeful greed. Literal stacks of metal and notes, high grade jade boxes and pill bottles, the Spirit weapon, a few folders and journals, several pouches and black lacquered puzzle box. More giggles erupted from John’s mouth as he identified the contents of the pouches. He was tempted to open the boxes and pill bottles but clamped down on the desire knowing they probably held objects with dense qi and fragrances, and opening them would be like hanging a banner from his room saying “Come rob and kill me, I have tons of treasure!” He would need to seek a trustworthy appraiser sometime in the future.

If he had been mildly worried about money before, he no longer was. John channeled his inner scrooge and counted his haul three times before thirst prompted him to pack it all away and go grab some more water. Added to his assets were now

* 10 mid-grade spirit stones, 150 low-grade spirit stones, 1642 golden taels, 11,159 silver taels, 371 bronze rings.

* 5 Pill bottles

* 4 Jade boxes

* Folder containing 10 talsimans of various grades, need to identify

* List of Chu Chang’s assets and contacts and debts/favors in the city. Mostly useless but some could be leveraged without leaving a massive trail.

* Priceless spirit weapon.

* Puzzle box that was filled with jade slips if the noise it made when he shook it was any indicator.

* Beast cores, ungraded but probably pretty high based on the rest of the stash.

* A small pouch with embroidery that was dizzyingly complex when John tried to examine it. Inside was a scrap of paper wishing him a happy 16th birthday…

An idle conversation between the cultivation freak and his father a few years ago was brought to his mind when he saw that inscription. John’s eye’s opened wide as he quickly stabbed his finger and pushed a strand of qi into embroidered bag, biting his tongue to keep in his urge to laugh once more as his spiritual sense felt a space several meters wide inside the small leather pouch.

‘It’s a mother fucking bag of holding! Oh, sorry a cosmos pouch.’ John quickly tried to store a tael into the pouch but was shocked to feel the wisp of qi powering the opening whisked in with tael, leaving the bag inert. A few experiments left John frowning. There was a pretty significant cost to passing an objects mass into the storage space and out again. Far below the costs of powering a technique, but enough that he wouldn’t be using the bag very often. With a wince at the cost, John poured in the bulk of his wealth before heading down to dinner. He’d heard that the cook was really quite pretty and was wondering if she would match the hype he’d heard from love-struck diners in his brief forays downstairs.

(Flashback end)

While his new found wealth had taken some weight of his shoulders, when compared to the assets the clan lord had controlled and would have gone to Chu Feng… it was pretty much nothing. Their spirit vein produced tens of thousands of low-grade spirit stones a year, and gold paled in comparison to that value. In addition to creating qi rich environments for cultivation in both meanings (spirit herbs were the clan’s secondary business), they were pretty much essential for later stage cultivation as well as useful in formations and crafting. Each stone was valued at a minimum of a thousand taels of gold, and even then a cultivator would be loath to sell. The Chu clan had mined that vein for over 300 years. It was no wonder they were one of the largest and wealthiest groups in Stone Forest city.

‘Honestly the naming conventions here are straight out of light novel central. Stone Forest City, from the eponymous Stone Forest Wastes to the northwest (a fossilized forest that teemed with reptile spirit beasts), one of the four major cardinal cities of the Great Zhou kingdom, mightiest of all kingdoms in the Soaring Wind Peninsula, according to the local propaganda anyway. I’m willing to bet that the border territory to the kingdoms on the main continent are probably ridiculously more powerful or the trailing edge of a coordinated empire if my trope senses are working. The kingdom likely gained power over the surrounding areas by being landlocked and thus safe from sea beasts and raiders…’

Another benefit of his father’s journal was that it listed a contact in the Spirit King Pavilion who would be able to diagnose his condition. The doctor there owed Chu Chang a personal debt, but the marker could be used anonymously and without jeopardizing his fugitive status. It was time for Guo Jing, the legendary warrior, to visit the doctor!