Xan Li Fang exhaled a protracted breath, compelling his somatic vessel to acquiesce once more to the mundane tyranny of gravitational physics; the terrifying, divine potency that had pinned him against the rafters receded, humming beneath his dermis like a dormant tectonic force. He descended with a fluid, ethereal grace, his feet making contact with the rough, splintered floorboards in a manner so gentle it disturbed neither dust nor silence, exhibiting the poise of a seasoned grandmaster. "The sensation is not entirely disagreeable," he murmured to the shadows, experimentally clenching his fists to find that he felt lighter than the ambient atmosphere yet possessed a structural integrity surpassing tempered steel. His heterochromatic gaze immediately snapped to the bedside, assessing the unconscious Auntie Yao Lin, who lay slumped forward in a faint, and the slack-jawed Cultivator Mulo, who remained frozen in the doorway like a statue of petrified awe. Ignoring the man clad in ostentatious silk, Xan rushed to the elderly woman's side, placing two fingers upon her radial artery not merely to detect a pulse, but to utilize his awakened perceptions to visualize the flow of vital energy coursing within her; though weak, flickering like a candle flame besieged by a gale, it remained fundamentally stable.
"She retains her vitality, having merely succumbed to the overwhelming spiritual pressure," Xan whispered, gently repositioning her onto the pillows and drawing the quilt over her frail form with maternal tenderness. Straightening his spine, his demeanor underwent an instantaneous transmutation, shifting from a concerned youth to a cold, inscrutable monolith as he turned his attention toward the trembling cultivator. Mulo presented a stark, jarring contrast to the abject poverty of the hut, impeccably attired in rich indigo fabrics embroidered with silver filigree—garments that belonged in a princely court rather than a sheep-herding hamlet—while jade rings adorned his digits and a faint aura of Qi shimmered around him, though that aura currently oscillated with terror and frantic calculation. "This… this esteemed fellow cultivator," Mulo stammered, attempting to recover his scattered wits while keeping his cranial gaze lowered in submission; he endeavored to maintain a veneer of composure, yet his vocal cords betrayed him with a treacherous crack. "May I be enlightened as to your identity? To descend upon our humble LinXu Village with such… cataclysmic magnificence is an event beyond comprehension."
Xan paused, the frantic warning his mother had issued years prior, coupled with her final transmission within the dreamscape, echoing resoundingly in the abyssal depths of his memory: "Never divulge your true nomenclature or identity to any soul, for to the Darkened Ones, names are nothing less than targeting coordinates." Xan's visage smoothed into a mask of polite, impenetrable indifference as he formulated his response. "Ah, pray forgive my distraction, for my focus was entirely consumed by the welfare of the benevolent lady who preserved my existence," Xan replied smoothly, executing a shallow, perfunctory bow. "My nomenclature is Wang Mao; indeed, you may address me as Master Wang." The name was a fabrication, generic and utterly forgettable, a banal shield of anonymity, yet the honorific "Master" tasted foreign and dissonant upon his tongue. Mulo's reaction, however, was instantaneous and extreme; he executed a flawless, profound bow of reverence, bending at the waist until his forehead nearly grazed the soiled floorboards, daring not to elevate his gaze.
"Master Wang! I humbly extend my welcome to you!" Mulo proclaimed, his voice trembling with subservience. "It is the inaugural occasion in my existence that I have witnessed a Second Step Cultivator; for a senior of your exalted caliber to visit this backwater settlement is our eternal fortune!" Xan blinked, perplexed by the term "Second Step," yet judging by Mulo's palpable terror, he deduced it signified a stratospheric rank. "I am no cultivator," Xan lied with practiced ease, a faint, enigmatic smile touching his lips as he understood that in this brutal realm, respect was a currency minted solely from projected power. "This was merely a misunderstanding; I sustained injuries, and my internal energy leaked inadvertently, so I thank you for your concern." "Your well-being is the paramount concern! My assistance was negligible! I am merely an insignificant ant in comparison to your grandeur!" Mulo gushed, returning to an upright position yet maintaining a hunched, deferential posture. Mulo was a consummate survivor who understood that power, regardless of its origin, acted as a lodestone for desire; if he could curry favor with this monster in human skin, his status within the region would ascend precipitously.
"We... we hypothesized you were the scion of an Emperor from the Upper Realms," Mulo continued, carefully selecting words laced with obsequious flattery. "You plummeted from the celestial sphere, shrouded in blood and fractured bones, a spectacle that terrified the entire village, leading us to believe a martial conflict had commenced." Xan's expression darkened perceptibly as the memory of the fall—and the masked figure upon the precipice—remained visceral and fresh. "That accident exacted a heavy toll," Xan intoned, his voice dropping an octave to a resonant baritone. "Did you... did you perchance observe an artifact? A diminutive Gray Stone Tablet bearing a solitary character carved upon its surface?" Mulo frowned, furrowing his brow in deep concentration. "An artifact? No stone tablet was recovered, Master Wang; however… there was a singular anomaly discovered within your garments, resembling a lustrous black screen encased in cloth."
Xan's heart skipped a beat, recognizing the description of his mobile device. "Regrettably," Mulo wonced, anticipating wrath, "the village children discovered it first during your transport and dropped it; believing it to be worthless colored glass when it shattered, we discarded the fragments into the refuse pit." Xan felt a sharp pang of annoyance, realizing that the technological relic containing his photographs, his music, and his final tether to Earth was gone; yet, a wave of profound relief washed over him, for the Tablet—the true treasure and paragon of his inheritance—was not lost, but safely anchored within his Sea of Consciousness. "I comprehend; it is of no consequence," Xan stated, dismissing his past existence with a casual, cavalier wave of his hand. "It was a mere trinket; let it remain broken." "Master Wang, this hovel is… entirely unsuitable for one of your elevated status," Mulo stated, gesturing invitingly towards the exit. "My residence is located nearby and is the largest in the hamlet; we should converse in private, as it is against village protocol—and general safety—to discuss high-level cultivation matters where mortal ears might intercept them."
Xan glanced at the slumbering Yao Lin, deciding she required rest rather than the intrusion of their voices. "That would be a prudent course of action." They departed the unconscious woman and stepped out into the snow, causing the villagers to gather outside to gasp and scatter like frightened avian creatures upon witnessing Xan emerge, alive and radiating health. Mulo guided him to a substantial, stone-reinforced domicile in the center of the village, a structure that was warm and illuminated by magical lamps burning without oil. For the subsequent five hours, they sat by the hearth, and Mulo expounded upon the harsh realities of this world. "We reside upon the Mortal Continent," Mulo explained, sketching a rudimentary cartographic representation on the table with his index finger. "Above us, separated by the impenetrable Void Barrier, lies the Supreme Continent—the domain from which you likely fell; down here, resources are scarce and the ambient Qi is tenuous."
"And what of the power structure?" Xan inquired. "Sects dominate all aspects of existence, while Kingdoms are merely marionettes dancing on their strings," Mulo elucidated. "As for power… we adhere to the Nine Steps of Ascension." Mulo enumerated them on his fingers: the Mortal Realm, where ninety percent of the populace resided; the Earth Realm, Mulo's own tier of local expertise; the Heaven Realm of Sect Elders; the Mystic Realm of Sect Masters; and the Divine Realm of legends. "These constitute the First Step," Mulo whispered reverently. "But you... your energy manifested the Yin-Yang Harmony, which is the hallmark of the Second Step—a realm transcending the Divine; in this entire kingdom, there are perhaps fewer than ten individuals operating at that stratospheric level." The conversation solidified the stark reality for Xan; he was no longer dreaming, but was a cosmic refugee in a world governed purely by the law of the jungle, and miraculously, he had been inserted at the very apex of the food chain, though he possessed no knowledge of how to wield his capabilities. "I am grateful for your candor, Mulo," Xan said, concluding the dialogue as the fire burned low. He stood up, his dual-colored eyes piercing Mulo's soul with predatory intensity. "I require the immediate procurement of two items: a detailed regional map of this Continent, and the precise coordinates of the nearest Cultivation Academy."