"The fist drives forward like an arrow, the back bends like a drawn bow, the waist coils like a dragon's tendon, the mind prowls like a tiger, the essence surges, and the qi begins to stir…"
The voice was still young, a little sharp with immaturity, yet carried an unwavering resolve. Beneath the sparse moonlight, by the lake tucked within a small valley, the lone moon hung in the sky, its reflection trembling upon the water's surface. There, a boy of about thirteen or fourteen practiced his boxing forms. As he moved, he recited the formula under his breath, each motion smooth and grounded—evidence that he had long since mastered this routine. His posture, his breath, his flow: all revealed a quiet, enduring charm.
Despite his sturdy frame, he was still a youth. Pouring all his strength into the sequence, he barely lasted half an hour before finishing the set from beginning to end. When he halted, he was drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
Crouching at the water's edge, he scooped the cool lake water to wash his face. Zhuge Xiang's mood was heavy. He had practiced this Qi-Nourishing Fist for an entire year, yet he still hadn't grasped the slightest trace of Qi Sense. Only half a month remained before the annual recruitment ceremony. If he failed to comprehend Qi Sense by then, he would remain an ordinary person—a nameless face struggling every day just to survive.
Zhuge Xiang's origins were nothing short of bleak. He had grown up alone, wandering and begging alongside an old beggar, eking out a life of hardship. A year ago, while asking for alms at a wealthy household, the owner not only refused—they unleashed their dog and killed the old beggar.
Consumed by hatred, Zhuge Xiang stole a dagger that very night, slipped into the rich man's home, and slaughtered all thirteen members of that family. Afterward, a young man appeared before him and asked if he would like to become strong—strong enough to eat meat every day without ever worrying about hunger or cold. And so Zhuge Xiang was brought to the Asura Sect.
The Great Qin Empire possessed a population of two billion and stretched across tens of thousands of miles. Martial culture thrived, and among the numerous powers were the Nine Great Sects—each strong enough to rival even the imperial clan. The Asura Sect was one of them.
Every year, the sect recruited a hundred thousand youths between the ages of twelve and fifteen, bringing them to the mountain to train. Their first task was to practice this Qi-Nourishing Fist. Though the technique had no combat power, it stimulated the body's essence and refined it into energy. Only by cultivating with this method could one comprehend Qi Sense. Zhuge Xiang was one of those hundred thousand recruits.
Nearly a year had passed since his arrival at the Asura Sect. In half a month, the next group of candidates would ascend the mountain.
On that day, Zhuge Xiang and the others would face assessment. Those who successfully awakened Qi Sense would be accepted as official disciples. Those who failed but performed reasonably would be assigned as laborers or servants in sect-managed estates, at least guaranteed food and shelter. The worst off would be driven down the mountain—left to fend for themselves, life and death uncertain.
Having suffered since childhood, Zhuge Xiang could not bring himself to return to that wretched existence. People are bullied by others, the saying goes—but to Zhuge Xiang, it was clear: the weak are bullied. Just like the old beggar, killed without reason. That day taught him the importance of strength. And so he clung tightly to this once-in-a-lifetime chance. He refused to let it slip through his fingers.
Even if he managed only to enter the Outer Affairs Department of the Asura Sect, he could not accept spending his life as a menial servant.
"Again. The later it gets, the more people awaken Qi Sense. After training for a year, I must be close. In these last half month, I can't afford failure." Thinking of the old beggar, thinking of this final chance, Zhuge Xiang rested briefly, composed himself, assumed the Qi-Nourishing stance, and continued practicing…
Willpower alone was admirable, but among the hundred thousand youths recruited each year, those who managed to awaken Qi Sense within a year were one in a hundred. And Zhuge Xiang's aptitude was hardly exceptional. Nevertheless, he practiced deep into the night, repeating the routine ten times, pushing his body and will past their limits. When he finally collapsed by the lakeside, unable to move even a finger, he still hadn't sensed the faintest trace of qi.
After resting less than half an hour, he regained some strength. Knowing that the body's essence was the foundation of Qi cultivation, he prepared to leave. Excessive training would only damage the body, making comprehension impossible. Every year, there were always disciples who crippled or even killed themselves through overexertion.
Just as he stood to go, his body froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something odd in the lake's reflection: the moon was missing a piece.
Looking up, the full moon hung perfectly round in the sky. But in the water, a segment was clearly absent. Why? How? Was there some kind of treasure beneath the surface?
Curiosity stirred. Stripping off his clothes, Zhuge Xiang dove into the lake and swam toward the distorted reflection.
As he approached, he finally understood: the missing portion of the moon was caused by a patch of black light beneath the water, overlapping the moon's reflection.
Black light? How could there be black light in the lake? If not for his precise angle and the moonlight's reflection, no one would ever notice such a thing in the dark water.
He dove deeper. When the lake finally stilled, he resurfaced, raising a hand. Lying in his palm was a black ring, its surface glinting with an eerie dark radiance beneath the moonlight.
Reaching shore, he examined it more closely. The ring was forged of some unknown metal, cold and strange to the touch, its black glow clearly marking it as anything but ordinary.
"Could this be… a magic weapon?" the thought flickered through his mind.
Official disciples of the Asura Sect were granted magic weapons—artifacts with mysterious abilities, far beyond mundane swords, spears, or blades. A ring that emitted black light… surely it had to be one.
A magic weapon reserved only for true disciples? Zhuge Xiang hesitated briefly, but curiosity burned too strongly. He slipped the ring onto his finger.
The moment it settled, the ring seemed to come alive. A sharp, needling pain pierced his flesh. He cried out, instinctively trying to rip it off, but it clung to him as if fused with bone.
The pain intensified. Exhausted, his consciousness dimmed.
Just as darkness swallowed him, a mechanical voice echoed faintly in the depths of his mind:
"Scanning skeletal structure, blood, iris… Assessing constitution… Binding process initiated… Countdown: twenty seconds… System parameters confirmed. Binding complete. Welcome to the Super Game System."