Chapter 6: Foundation of Power
A few days had passed since the bandit attack. The village slowly returned to peace, though the memory of that night still lingered.
Ashen began to cultivate. Even though he had defeated a Peak Martial Adept Realm opponent with ease, he knew his body was weak. His skills were sharp, his experience unmatched, but the vessel he now possessed was far from what it once was.
He sat cross-legged beneath an old tree, eyes closed, feeling the quiet rhythm of nature.
In this world, people called the energy flowing through all things Qi — the same essence his old world called mana (Qi or energy).
He soon realized there were two main methods of harnessing this energy.
The first was the container method — where one built a vessel within their body to store energy. The body itself became the container. This way, energy was gathered and released as needed, and even if the energy ran out, one would merely be exhausted, not dead.
This method could temporarily strengthen the body and boost strength, but the effect would fade once the energy was spent.
The second was soul refinement, where the energy was absorbed into one's soul, fusing with the very essence of life. This path brought greater strength and a longer lifespan, for it naturally reinforced both body and spirit. Yet, it was dangerous — if one's soul could not bear the energy, it would shatter, and death would follow.
Qi could strengthen the body and extend life. The container method (mana method) could also do the same, but only temporarily. True strength came from harmony between body, soul, and energy — a balance few could ever achieve.
Ashen let out a quiet laugh as old memories surfaced. The worlds may differ, but the pursuit of strength was always the same.
Logically, both methods — container and soul refinement — could be combined. But doing so required immense control or a body built for it.
The other world Ashen knew during the War Between Worlds used this method, where noble clans passed down superior bodies through bloodlines, allowing them to wield tremendous mana (Qi or energy).
In contrast, Ashen's original world was different. It had no cultivation or magic, but it had those who stood above all — protectors who bore the weight of their world's balance.
They were neither born strong nor blessed by lineage, but driven by sheer perseverance. Yet even they paid a heavy price. Power was never given freely — not even to those who fought to protect others.
Ashen's gaze softened as faint pain flickered in his eyes.
He had once known that cost all too well. The memory of that pain — unending and merciless — was something he could never forget.
Ashen's body, though reborn at sixteen, still carried traces of his old self. It was capable of enduring far more energy than ordinary cultivators, yet it lacked the guidance of a proper technique. Still, for him, technique was unnecessary. His control over energy — over Qi — was absolute.
He smiled faintly.
"No technique, no master… just me again," he murmured.
But here, in this world, under this quiet sky, he finally felt something different.
The energy that once tormented him now flowed gently through his body, warm and calm.
For the first time in countless years, he could feel power without agony.
He could cultivate freely.
Ashen looked toward the horizon, his expression unreadable.
"Perhaps this time…" he whispered softly.
"…I can build my own strength."
And with that thought, he began to draw in the world's energy once more. The air trembled faintly, the leaves swaying to an unseen rhythm.
From that day forward, Ashen entered seclusion — not to chase power, but to build a true foundation for the life he had chosen to live.
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Days turned into weeks. The people of Han Village often wondered where the quiet golden-eyed boy had gone.
Sometimes, Elder Rian would glance toward the forest and mutter, "That boy… he's not ordinary."
Lina, holding her wooden sword, would smile faintly at the trees and whisper,
"Come back soon, Brother Ashen… I still need to learn that swing of yours."
Deep in the forest, beneath the same old tree, Ashen remained in meditation — calm, silent, and still — as the wind carried whispers of a power slowly awakening once more.