The sky was dark already to a deep blue when Alexander arrived at the orphanage. The stillness of night had fallen, and only a few soft stars lit up the sleeping town with their gentle light. He entered, the comforting creak of the old wooden door greeting him as an old friend.
In the orphanage, the warmth enveloped him like a soothing blanket. The children were already in bed, their gentle, rhythmic breathing the only evidence of life in the otherwise quiet house. The old woman remained by the fireside, as always, her weary eyes glancing up at Alexander as he came in.
"Eat your supper, boy," she said in her gentle way, pushing a modest plate of soup and bread across the long dining table to him.
Without saying a word, Alexander sat down and ate, but his thoughts were very far from the mundane ceremony of sustenance. He chewed slowly, lost in the events of the day, a hum of excitement stirring beneath his placid façade. The road ahead had at last started to open up, and he could feel the energy inside him growing, driving him on.
When he had finished eating, he nodded respectfully in the direction of the old woman and quietly made his way through the darkening corridors. His footsteps led him to a small secluded room situated in the rear of the orphanage—a place he had appropriated as his own. Inside, he shut the door behind him, and the quiet snick of the latch was the only sound in the silence.
The moonlight poured in through the open window, creating silver shadows on the floor. Alexander stood there, motionless and quiet, allowing the cool night breeze to envelop him. His shoulders relaxed, and he whispered to himself, "Five years. Five long years, and now it begins. The journey to greatness."
His tone was low, but charged with fierce resolve. For years, the flame of ambition had smoldered deep inside him, waiting for the perfect time. Now, with the guidance of the old man and the learning of the Body Tempering technique, that fire burst into life.
Taking a deep breath, Alexander attempted to soothe the excitement that ran through him. The time he had been waiting for had finally come. With determination gleaming in his eyes, he placed the old book in front of him, its tattered pages radiating softly under the moonlight.
Sitting cross-legged on the icy ground, he resumed reading, immersing himself in the teachings that would guide him toward his destiny. The text was plain, yet burdened with great wisdom. Body Tempering, the key to all cultivations, was broken down into nine levels, each level leading to increased physical power, resilience, and energy.
As Alexander continued to read, his heart sped up. The text described how every step would purge impurities out of the body, refining and building it up so that it could withstand the flow of Astral Energy.
"So, with every step, my body is cleaner," he breathed, "and with the cleanliness comes more power."
But it wasn't merely the technique itself that decided one's fate—it was one's potential. No two individuals would tread the same path. Advancement was brought about by determination, commitment, and the desire to overcome one's limits. For some, their bodies would refine quicker, their vigor bursting with little effort. But for others, the journey would be torturous, longer.
Alexander's eyes shone as he took in the seriousness of it all. How much he was able to do was solely in his hands.
"Every realm I arrive at, I will purify my body. harden it," he murmured. "But how much I can acquire, how much power I can create—it's up to me."
The idea thrilled and challenged him. His destiny was not determined by someone else; it was his to determine. The more he read, the more excited he became, possibilities growing larger in his head. The path would be hard, but hardness never stopped him. If anything, it moved him forward.
Putting the book away, Alexander leaned against the wall, his mind still reeling with the information he had gained. Tomorrow, he would start the process—the first step towards being a master of Body Tempering.
"I'll do it tomorrow," he breathed, his lips curving upward. "The path to greatness!."
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The following morning, Alexander was up before dawn. The orphanage was still and silent, the children sleeping peacefully in their beds. A hasty breakfast later, he was back in his small room, ready to start. The well-thumbed book was spread out before him, the diagrams and instructions memorized in his mind.
Steeling his breaths, he stood in the middle of the room. His body folded into the first stance, muscles straining, his posture replicating the sketches in the book.
"Body Tempering requires resources," he muttered, his voice low, "but I don't have any... so I'll take the hard way."
Most growers had access to exotic herbs, potions, and treasures to accelerate the process, to coax out their potential sooner than customary means could. But such indulgences were reserved for the rich—the privileged few born into wealth and influence. Alexander possessed none.
But where he was lacking in resources, he made up in resolve.
Taking the stance, his body shuddered momentarily. He adjusted, setting his form to rights with scrupulous care. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, but he persisted through the pain.
"I can do this," he breathed, his voice charged with determination. "No matter how much it hurts."
He moved into the second stance, repeating the motion again and again. Every repetition strained his body, his muscles aching from the exertion. But even with the pain, Alexander kept his concentration, steadfast in his resolve to perfect the technique.
Anyone observing would have been shocked. The postures were notoriously tricky, meant to challenge even the most skilled practitioners. And yet Alexander's posture was close to flawless. He moved through the forms as if his body knew them intuitively, as if the method was second nature.
Even the Heaven-blessed would fail on the first try, but Alexander? He not only mastered the whole set—he did it with but a score of errors.
Hours went by and still he practiced. His legs trembled, his muscles crying out in protest, but he persisted. His mind was sharp, his focus clear.
"I may not have resources," he breathed, his air thick, "but I have my will."
By the time he finally ended, his body was shaking, covered in sweat. But Alexander's own face did not change, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. He had succeeded. The first little step, but a step nonetheless.
With pride, he wiped his forehead, his eyes sparkling with unassuming satisfaction. His journey had really started.
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When the afternoon drew in, Alexander's appetite rumbled with a strength he hadn't anticipated. The morning practice had drained more out of him than he'd known. Upon his arrival at the dining hall, he sat down quickly and started eating.
But something peculiar occurred. No amount of food he consumed seemed to satiate the hunger, which gnawed at him relentlessly. He devoured his first plate, then grabbed another. And yet another. When he finally stopped, he had consumed two full-grown men's worth of food.
"Is this normal?" he marveled, extending his hand. He could sense the change in him already—his muscles were heavier, his strength significantly augmented. His hunger increased, but so did his might.
The food wasn't just feeding him—it was powering his metamorphosis.
Content for the moment, Alexander rose from the table, his mind already looking ahead to his training. The road still stretched out before him, but today had been a demonstration: without resources, he could advance. And if his body had already reacted so readily, then the possibility of expansion was much greater than he'd ever considered.
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Going back to his quarters, he practiced again with no hesitation. His body moved through the postures with greater and greater facility, the motions becoming more second-nature as he repeated them.
"The hard way it is, then," he grumbled, finding himself in a stance once more.
The path lay ahead of him now, but Alexander was prepared. He would drive his body to its maximum potential, with or without assistance. It mattered not; determination was all that counted.
And as the afternoon sunbeams poured in through the window, golden and bright, Alexander kept at it, fueled by a hunger for power much stronger than his hunger for sustenance.
When dinner arrived, Alexander had spent the whole day practicing, exhausting his body with the demanding stances of the Body Tempering technique. He was covered in sweat, his muscles protesting, but pride swelled within him as well—he could feel himself getting stronger with every session.
While Alexander munched on his third serving, he was far from being sated. The elderly lady, who sat by the fireplace, looked at him with an increasingly furrowed brow, her worry apparent as she watched him virtually gobble down his food.
"You need to take more walks to town, boy," she told him, her tone soft but with an unusual undertone.
Alexander stopped in mid-chew, aghast at her proposal. Walks? He, Alexander the Great—or soon to be one—did not require something as mundane as walks.
His belly, on the other hand, had quite a different thought. It rumbled its discontent, obviously not pleased with his defiant thinking. He let out a long breath, well aware that his hunger had been entirely out of control. Perhaps a walk would not be so bad, but not for others to feed him—it was so to digest his food. That's what he kept telling himself, anyway.
What Alexander came to understand—albeit a little late—was that the old woman wasn't merely a benevolent mentor. No, she was a shrewd tactician! Her real aim was apparent: send him out for strolls so the people of the town could blanket him with victuals, and she cleverly spared her larder from his bottomless stomach. But in the self-aggrandizing mind of his, he merely believed she was being altruistic and magnanimous.
"I don't require her pity," he grumbled to himself, as his belly growled once more. Yet, at the end of the week, Alexander found himself strolling about town more frequently, gorging himself on free food from every nook and cranny of the village. As he returned home with bags full of bread and pastries, he couldn't help but laugh.
This regimen went on for a week. Each day, Alexander trained mercilessly, his body growing tougher faster than he could have possibly envisioned, and every day his appetite increased. The harder he drove his body to its limits, the more the body craved food to match the change occurring in him.
Then, on the seventh day, something changed.
As Alexander stood to practice, he sensed a sudden change within. His breath hitched, his heart pounded, and his body quivered with strange power. The air around him vibrated, as if the world itself had recognized the transformation.
A realization crept upon him.
It began.
To Be Continued...