The forest was quieter than usual, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Lin Wei moved cautiously, each step light and precise. Every muscle in his body had been purified, refined, and strengthened by the system the world did not know he possessed. He felt it in his bones, his blood, his very breath—a clarity and power that no ordinary sixteen-year-old could ever imagine.
Yet Lin Wei was careful. The forest was empty now, but he could not let anyone see him like this. The power coursing through him was his alone, a secret weapon that must remain hidden until the world forced him to reveal it. He bent low, brushing a fallen branch aside, and allowed his eyes to wander over the terrain. Hunting, testing, training—this was the only way he could grow without alerting the outside world to his capabilities.
A faint rustle behind him made him freeze. Three Spirit Wolves—medium grade, by the look of their glowing eyes and sharp claws—emerged from the underbrush. They snarled, their teeth glinting in the filtered sunlight. Lin Wei's lips curved slightly. A test, he thought. Just as I expected.
He did not panic. Most sixteen-year-olds would have fled or stumbled in fear. But Lin Wei moved with calm, almost supernatural precision. He sidestepped the first wolf's lunging attack, rolling into the dirt and sweeping a second wolf off its feet with a sharp, well-timed kick. The third tried to flank him, but Lin Wei had already calculated the angles and momentum. Within moments, all three were incapacitated, lying groaning on the ground. Not one of them had even managed to scratch him.
He breathed steadily, wiping sweat and grime from his brow. To any observer, it would seem he had simply passed through the forest unharmed. Nothing about his movements gave away the truth: that his body had been rebuilt from the inside out, that every muscle fiber, every tendon, every bone had been purified and enhanced beyond natural limits. No one can know, he reminded himself.
Lin Wei crouched down to inspect the wolves. Even though they had been knocked out, he could feel their residual spiritual energy. Normally, three medium-grade Spirit Wolves could have killed a weak cultivator without much effort. But he had handled them alone, without revealing a single hint of the secret that had made this possible. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the purity of his body, the harmony of his meridians, the steady flow of energy. Every breath was precise, every heartbeat a rhythm of strength and control.
A few steps away, sunlight glimmered on a patch of herbs growing among the roots of a giant oak. Most were shriveled and useless—common plants that no ordinary cultivator would pay attention to. Lin Wei approached them casually, crouching low to examine the leaves. Most would have dismissed these as worthless weeds, yet his mind was already running calculations. One sweep, one purification, and these herbs could become invaluable, capable of producing high-grade pills and elixirs. He reached out, pretending to gather them casually, all the while activating his secret system.
When he opened his eyes again, the herbs shone faintly, their dull brown surfaces replaced by rich green and vibrant energy. The change was subtle but undeniable. To any passerby, it would seem as if the herbs had simply grown healthy overnight. Only Lin Wei knew the truth: a silent, hidden miracle, a small taste of the power he now held.
Satisfied, he packed the herbs carefully into his bag. Each step, each breath, each movement was measured and controlled. No one could ever suspect what he was capable of. He had to keep the world believing he was an ordinary boy, weak, mortal, and unremarkable. That illusion was the key to survival—and victory.
Hours passed, and the forest gradually darkened as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Lin Wei found a quiet clearing, perfect for resting and meditation. He sat cross-legged on the soft moss, closing his eyes and focusing inward. This was the real training, the kind that the system enabled him to do without anyone noticing. He purified his blood, adjusted the flow of spiritual energy, refined his muscles and bones. Slowly, methodically, he pushed the limits of what his body could endure. Pain flickered briefly as old impurities were expelled, but Lin Wei endured it silently, a small smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.
A distant bird cawed, breaking the silence. Lin Wei's eyes opened. In the fading sunlight, he could see faint traces of movement in the forest—hunters, wandering disciples, maybe even thieves—but none of them suspected that in this quiet clearing, Lin Wei was already far beyond anyone his age.
Tomorrow, he thought, I enter the academy. They will laugh at me, mock me, underestimate me. And that is exactly what I want.
He stood, stretching his limbs, feeling the refined harmony of his body. Everything about him was stronger, faster, sharper. He adjusted his hair casually, brushing his golden strands into place, and examined his reflection in a nearby stream. His deep ocean-blue eyes met his own gaze. No one can know. Not yet.
Satisfied, he turned away and began the trek toward the town, keeping to the shadows. Along the way, he caught sight of a young girl standing near the edge of the market. Her hair was silver-black, her expression cold and unreadable. Lin Wei only glanced at her briefly, but something about the way she observed the marketplace—calm, precise, almost evaluating—made him pause.
He did not approach her. He did not speak. But a small part of him noted her presence. Interesting, he thought. Perhaps I will meet her again.
Further down the road, a second figure caught his attention—a young girl with crimson hair and bright amber eyes, busy inspecting herbs laid out by merchants. She hummed quietly to herself, seemingly unaware of the bustle around her, yet there was a focused intensity in her movements. Lin Wei's hand twitched instinctively, itching to test the purity of the herbs in secret—but he resisted.
He would not reveal himself. Not now. Not ever.
As night fell, Lin Wei found shelter under the wide boughs of an old tree, rolling up in his cloak. The system hummed faintly in his mind, invisible, silent, and untouchable by the world. He closed his eyes, listening to the rhythm of his own heartbeat, feeling the strength of his purified body.
The forest was dark, silent, but alive. And Lin Wei was alive too—not just surviving, but ready. Ready to step into the academy, ready to challenge the world, ready to rise without revealing the secret that would one day make him a legend.
Let them laugh tomorrow, he thought. Let them think I am weak. They will soon learn that appearances can be deceiving.