The pain was blinding, a white-hot nova that eclipsed even the initial agony of his injuries. But it was followed by a wave of profound relief as the joint slid back into place. Li Yao slumped against the wall, panting, his body trembling from the exertion and the residual shock.
"Procedure successful. Scapula integrity maintained. Regeneration efficiency increased by 18% due to corrected skeletal alignment."
"Great... just great," Li Yao wheezed, his vision swimming. The single, crude act of fixing his shoulder had drained what little energy he had just gathered. The cool, regenerative flow from his nascent Spiritual Core was now a faint trickle, barely enough to keep the internal bleeding at bay.
This was the reality of cultivation. It wasn't all glowing auras and flying on swords. It was pain, exhaustion, and a desperate, grinding struggle for every shred of power. The System's diagram flashed in his mind—the 36 sub-realms of the Energy Path alone stretched before him like an infinite staircase. And he was on the first, creaky step.
"System, status update. And... what's my current lifespan?"
---
HOST STATUS: Li Yao
REALM: Essence Gathering Realm (Early Sub-Realm)
CONDITION: Severe Injuries (Regeneration in Progress: 4.7%). Malnourished. Spiritually Fatigued.
LIFESPAN BASE (Mortal): ~80 Years
LIFESPAN MULTIPLIER: x5
ESTIMATED REMAINING LIFESPAN: 400 Years
NOTE: Lifespan is not a guarantee. It is a theoretical maximum under optimal conditions. Active cultivation, injuries, and tribulations consume vital energy, effectively reducing this duration. The clock is always ticking.
---
Four hundred years. To a mortal, it was an unimaginable eternity. To a cultivator on the Eternal Ascension Path, it was a terrifyingly short sprint. He needed to reach the next realm, the next multiplier, before his time ran out. The pressure was immediate and immense.
No wonder this world is so brutal, he thought. Everyone is racing against their own personal hourglass.
He needed resources. Now. The [Breath of the Primordial Awakening] was efficient, but drawing from the thin, polluted Qi of a city alley was like trying to fill an ocean with a teaspoon. He needed Spirit Stones, medicinal herbs, anything to accelerate the process.
The memories of the original Li Yao provided a bleak picture. As a servant, he earned a pittance of mortal silver coins. A single, low-grade Spirit Stone was worth a year of his wages. The merchant family he served, the Hong Family, hoarded their few spirit stones for their own untalented children.
"Options, System?"
"Analysis of Host's current environment and capabilities suggests three primary vectors for resource acquisition:"
1. Mercantile: Utilize knowledge from Host's previous world to create value. (Risk: High. Attracts unwanted attention from established powers. Requires initial capital.)
2. Exploratory:Seek out unclaimed resources in wilderness areas, ancient ruins, or secret realms. (Risk: Extreme. Host's current combat effectiveness is 2/100.)
3. Institutional:Join a sect or guild to access resource stipends in exchange for service and talent demonstration. (Risk: Medium. Requires revealing cultivation progress, potentially making Host a target.)
Before he could ponder further, a sharp voice cut through the alley's gloom.
"Well, well. The gutter rat is still breathing. You're tougher than you look, trash."
Li Yao's good eye snapped open. Standing at the mouth of the alley were two young men, both dressed in the sturdy, grey uniforms of the City Guard. They weren't cultivators, but they were well-fed, armed with clubs, and had the cruel, bored expressions of petty tyrants. He recognized them from the original's memories: Wang Hu and Wang Bao, cousins and lackeys of Young Master Wang Jin.
The villain's lackeys, Li Yao thought with a surge of cold dread. Right on schedule.
"The Young Master was displeased that you stained his robes," said Wang Hu, the larger of the two, slapping his club into his palm. "He sent us to make sure you understood the lesson. Permanently."
This wasn't a cliché anymore. This was a life-or-death situation. His body was broken, his energy reserves were nearly zero. A single solid blow from one of those clubs would rupture his barely-stabilized internals and end his story before it began.
"Combat Protocol Engaged. Threat Assessment: Two Mortal-tier combatants. Physical Capability: Superior to Host. Host's Advantages: Essence Gathering Realm regeneration, Sharpened Senses, Theoretical combat knowledge from System database."
Theoretical isn't going to cut it! Li Yao's mind raced. He couldn't outrun them. He couldn't outfight them.
"System, generate a combat technique! Now!"
"Insufficient energy reserves for technique generation. Utilizing pre-existing foundational knowledge. Technique Suggestion: [Rusty Nail Fist Variation - Misdirection and Flight]."
A series of movements and energy flows flashed in his mind. It was simple, using the principles of the [Breath of the Primordial Awakening] to create a brief, dazzling burst of Qi to the eyes, followed by a desperate, all-out sprint. It wasn't meant to win; it was meant to create an opening to run.
It was his only chance.
As Wang Hu stepped forward, raising his club, Li Yao pushed himself up with his good arm. He looked defeated, broken. But inside, he was gathering the last dregs of his Qi, focusing it into his palm as the System directed.
"Please... have mercy," he croaked, playing the part.
Wang Hu smirked. "Mercy is for the weak."
He swung the club down.
Li Yao moved. It wasn't a graceful dodge. It was a painful, stumbling lurch to the side. But as he moved, his good hand shot out, not to strike, but to flick a pebble he'd palmed from the ground. At the same moment, he released the stored energy—a tiny, visible spark of white light that flared right in Wang Hu's face.
"Ah! My eyes!" Wang Hu yelled, stumbling back and clutching his face. The spark was harmless, but the surprise and temporary blindness were enough.
Wang Bao stared in shock for a critical second. That was all Li Yao needed. Ignoring the screaming protest from his ribs, he shoved past the blinded guard and burst out of the alley, stumbling into the crowded, muddy street of Flowing Wind City.
He didn't look back. He ran, his heart hammering against his broken ribs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had survived, but he had made enemies. And he had burned through precious energy he couldn't afford to lose.
---
Interlude: The Young Master's Whim
In a lavishly decorated pavilion overlooking a serene koi pond, Wang Jin sipped a cup of fragrant Spirit Tea. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, dressed in fine blue silks embroidered with silver threads. The faint aura of Qi around him placed him firmly in the Mid Sub-Realm of the Essence Gathering Realm—a minor talent in the grand scheme, but a giant in a backwater city like Flowing Wind.
His father, Wang Zhong, Captain of the City Guard and a late-stage Core Formation expert, had spent a small fortune on pills and resources to push his son to this level. For Wang Jin, cultivation was not a path to ascension; it was a means to an end—power, status, and the right to never be inconvenienced.
One of his lackeys, Wang Bao, knelt before him, head bowed. "Young Master, he... he escaped. Used some cheap trick, a flash of light. Blinded cousin Hu temporarily."
Wang Jin's placid expression didn't change, but the delicate porcelain cup in his hand developed a hairline crack. "Escaped?" he said, his voice dangerously soft. "A servant. A piece of mortal trash with blocked meridians. Escaped from two of my guards."
"He... he seemed different, Young Master. Faster. And he used Qi."
That gave Wang Jin pause. He set the cracked cup down. "Qi? Impossible. Old Man Hong had him tested. He was worthless." A slow, calculating look entered his eyes. "Unless he found something. A treasure. An inheritance in one of the garbage heaps he crawls through." The thought was infuriating and... intriguing. What if that gutter rat had stumbled upon a secret that rightfully belonged to someone of his station?
"Find him," Wang Jin commanded, his voice cold. "I don't care how. Bring him to me. I want to know what he found. And I want to personally teach him the consequences of stealing from his betters."
The motive was born not from deep-seated hatred, but from entitled curiosity and bruised pride. For Wang Jin, Li Yao was no longer just a servant to be punished; he was a puzzle to be solved, a potential opportunity to be seized, and a stain on his ego to be scrubbed out.
---