Lei Man scurried through the moonlit courtyards of the Lei estate, his heart hammering with a mixture of hope and terror. He clutched the scroll detailing The Rainbow Caterpillar Method to his chest as if it were a holy scripture, which, to him, it was. It was the only scripture in a religion of one. He slipped back into his room, the familiar scent of sandalwood a comforting anchor after the surreal journey of the day.
He didn't hesitate. Bolting the door, he unrolled the scroll on the floor. The characters he had written in a fugue state seemed to glow with a soft, internal light under the moon. They weren't just instructions; they were a map, a melody his soul already knew.
He sat on the floor, crossed his legs, and took a deep, shuddering breath. The memory of the rainbow threads and the chittering chipmunks filled his mind. He closed his eyes and focused inward, seeking the tiny, warm spark in the cold darkness of his dantian.
He began the first cycle of the technique. It was nothing like the aggressive, forceful methods he had read about. There was no raging tiger, no iron wall. Instead, it was an act of gentle persuasion. He nudged the tiny spark, coaxing it into the simple, elegant pathway the chipmunks had woven. The spark responded, not with a surge, but with a pulse of warmth. He guided it slowly, carefully, through the loop described on the scroll. It felt like coaxing a shy animal out of hiding.
He completed the first loop. The spark seemed a fraction brighter. A pleasant warmth spread from his core.
He began the second loop. Then the third, and the fourth. With each completed cycle, the spark grew, and the warmth intensified. It stopped being a pinprick and became a warm, liquid drop of honey, flowing through his meridians. The pathway, once a theoretical map, now felt like a well-worn riverbed. This was it. This was cultivation. It was slow, gentle, and it was working.
Hours passed. The moon climbed to its zenith and began its slow descent. Lei Man was lost to the world, focused only on the steady, rhythmic circulation of his growing Qi. The drop of honey became a warm stream, then a gentle, flowing river. He could feel it saturating every inch of his body, pushing against a lifetime of blockages and stagnation. He felt his body reaching a limit, a feeling of being full to bursting.
Then, the dam broke.
It started as a sticky dampness on his skin. He opened his eyes, his concentration shattered. A greasy, black sweat was beading on his forehead, his arms, his chest. It carried a stench that was deeply, personally foul, like burnt hair and old, rotten meat. His skin began to itch and burn as the sludge oozed from every pore, thick and tar-like, staining his simple robes.
He gasped, a wave of nausea rolling through him. His stomach convulsed violently. He barely had time to lurch to his feet and stumble towards the small, private lavatory attached to his chambers—one of the few perks of his noble birth. He collapsed before the porcelain toilet, a strange and familiar comfort from his past life, and retched.
A foul, inky black bile poured from his mouth in a torrent, splattering into the bowl. It wasn't food; it was pure filth, the physical manifestation of the meridians that had been blocked and useless for fifteen years. His body seized with convulsion after convulsion, expelling the last of the impurities until he was left panting and heaving, his body slick with a disgusting layer of grime.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the handle and flushed. The sound of the swirling water carrying away the last of his internal sickness was the most satisfying thing he had ever heard.
The stench in the room was unbearable. He stripped off his fouled, ruined robes, his hands shaking with exhaustion and a strange, exhilarating lightness. He practically fell into the bathing pool, turning the heat on as high as he could stand it. He scrubbed his skin raw, watching in grim satisfaction as the black sludge swirled away, revealing skin that was paler and clearer than he had ever seen.
When he finally emerged, clean and wrapped in a fresh robe, he felt… new. The lightness wasn't just a feeling; it was real. He felt as if a heavy, weighted cloak he'd worn his entire life had been lifted. His senses were sharper. The moonlight seemed brighter, the scent of sandalwood was clearer, and he could hear the rustle of the scarlet willow leaves outside with perfect clarity.
He gathered the filthy, stinking pile of his old robes, carried them to the small brazier in his courtyard used for burning incense, and set them ablaze. He watched the last physical remnants of the old, weak Lei Man turn to smoke and ash under the fading moon.
He looked at his reflection in a polished bronze mirror. The face staring back was his, but cleaner, sharper. The perpetual sickly pallor was gone, replaced by a faint, healthy luster. His eyes, once dull and resigned, were clear and bright.
He wasn't a powerhouse. He wasn't a genius. But he had taken his first true step. He had reached the first level of the Body Strengthening realm. He was clean, inside and out. And for the first time in either of his lives, he felt a genuine, unburdened desire to go out and face the world.
Verdant Creek City awaited.
Verdant Creek City was an assault on Lei Man's newly polished senses. The roar of the crowd, the sizzle of street food, the myriad smells of sweat, perfume, and exotic spices—it was overwhelming, but not unpleasant. For the first time, he felt a part of it, not just a shadow moving through it. With a heavy pouch of 124 silver coins at his waist, he also felt something he'd never experienced before: a sense of possibility.
His first stop was a bustling tavern called "The Drunken Carp." It was a place the old Lei Man would never have dared enter, a place for mercenaries, merchants, and commoners. He found a small table in a corner, the rich aroma of roasting meat making his stomach ache with a hunger that was both physical and spiritual.
He ordered the house specialty: a massive platter of five-spice roasted boar, piled high with steamed buns and pickled vegetables. When it arrived, it was a mountain of food that would have fed a normal person for three days. He paid the single silver coin without a second thought and dug in.
As he chewed the first piece of succulent, savory meat, he instinctively began to circulate his Qi using The Rainbow Caterpillar Method. The effect was immediate and profound. It was a trip, but a small, controlled, and intensely pleasant one. The world didn't dissolve; it sharpened. The flavors on his tongue exploded into a symphony of taste—sweet, salty, sour, spicy, umami—each note a distinct and vibrant color in his mind.
He could feel the essence of the food, its life-giving energy, being broken down not in his stomach, but by the gentle, grinding circulation of his Qi. The rainbow caterpillars of his mind were at work, munching on the essence of roasted boar and steamed buns. The energy, converted into pure, warm Qi, flowed directly into his dantian, feeding the tiny flame and causing it to pulse with a happy, contented warmth.
He devoured the entire platter, every last morsel, feeling his Qi grow with each bite. By the time he was finished, the flame in his core was noticeably stronger, brighter, and the feeling of power in his limbs was more solid. He had discovered a new, wonderful truth: his cultivation wasn't limited to slow, meditative practice. He could eat his way to power. He was a glutton for cultivation.
Feeling bold, he left the tavern with a new destination in mind. If simple food could do this, what could actual spiritual herbs do? He found his way to "The Gnarled Root," the city's most well-known apothecary. The shop was a quiet, cool space that smelled of dried herbs, minerals, and bitter concoctions.
He approached the old alchemist behind the counter. "I'm looking for plants to aid a cultivator in the early Body Strengthening realm," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
The alchemist gave him a cursory glance, his eyes dismissing him as a novice with more coin than sense. "For a gentle decoction, I presume? Brewed over three days?"
"Something like that," Lei Man lied.
The alchemist shrugged and pulled out a small, wooden box. Inside were a dozen pale green, root-like plants that seemed to hum with a faint energy. "Jade Sprouts. Potent, but volatile. They must be prepared carefully to soothe their energy. Twenty silver."
Lei Man paid immediately, the pouch on his hip feeling significantly lighter. He clutched the box of Jade Sprouts, his heart thrumming with excitement. This was a real treasure, a direct path to greater strength. He turned and left the shop, his mind already racing with the possibilities.
His excitement made him careless. He turned into a narrow alleyway, a shortcut back towards the main thoroughfare, and a trio of burly men stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. Their clothes were ragged, but their arms were thick with muscle, and their eyes held the familiar, predatory glint of bullies who had found an easy mark.
"Well, well," the leader, a man with a scarred lip, sneered. "If it isn't the little trash master from the Lei family. We saw you in there, flashing your silver. Hand over the pouch and whatever you just bought, and we'll let you walk away without any broken bones."
Panic seized Lei Man. He was at the first level, yes, but he had no fighting skills. These men were bigger, and there were three of them. His mind raced, but there was no way out. They started to advance.
Desperation took over. He didn't have three days to brew a decoction. He had three seconds. His instincts, now guided by the bizarre logic of his trips, screamed a single, insane idea. Eat it.
He tore the lid from the box, grabbed the entire bundle of raw Jade Sprouts, and shoved them into his mouth.
The taste was an explosion of bitterness and raw, green energy, like chewing on a lightning bolt. The moment he swallowed, a violent, overwhelming trip slammed into him. There were no caterpillars, no rainbows. He was a rocket, a streak of emerald fire blasting through the tunnels of his own meridians. The world dissolved into a screaming, green vortex. It was agonizing, a feeling of being ripped apart and reforged in a storm of pure life force.
His body, now a furnace for the raw, untamed Qi of the sprouts, began to glow with a faint green light.
The goons stopped, bewildered. "What's he doing? Is he having a fit?" the leader grunted. He decided to end it quickly and threw a lazy, powerful punch at Lei Man's head.
The trip ended as quickly as it began. The green firestorm contracted, settling into his dantian not as a gentle flame, but as a roaring, verdant inferno. He was back in the alley, the world snapping into hyper-focus. He was no longer at the first level. The violent influx of Qi had smashed him through the second and slammed him directly into the third level of Body Strengthening.
The goon's fist, which would have been a blur a moment ago, now seemed to float towards him in slow motion.
Instinct, backed by real power, took over. He didn't think; he just moved. He sidestepped the punch with an impossible ease. As the goon's arm flew past, Lei Man threw a simple, straight punch of his own. It wasn't a trained technique, just a fist propelled by a body now brimming with power.
The impact was shockingly dull, a sound like a hammer hitting a side of meat. A crack of bone followed. The leader's eyes went wide with shock and pain before they rolled back in his head. He didn't just fall; he was launched backwards, crashing into a pile of wooden crates and slumping to the ground, unconscious.
The remaining two goons froze, their jaws hanging open in disbelief. They looked at their fallen leader, then at the slender, young noble standing over him, his fist still smoking with a faint, green vapor.
Without a word, they turned and ran, their flight filled with the kind of terror reserved for seeing a ghost.
Lei Man stood alone in the alley, panting, his knuckles throbbing with a painful, satisfying ache. He looked at the unconscious goon, then at his own hand, a bewildered, manic grin spreading across his face. He was still the Trash of House Lei. But he was also a third-level body cultivator who had just won his first fight by eating a handful of weeds. This crazy cultivation world was about to get a whole lot crazier.