Chapter 3 – Breaking the Grave
The weight of the mountain pressed down on him.
Stone pinned his legs. Jagged rock cut into his shoulder. Dust clogged the small pocket of air that kept him alive.
Any normal outer disciple would have already suffocated.
Arin Vale did not panic.
Panic wasted oxygen.
Instead, he slowed his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He closed his eyes.
The barren world opened before him once more.
The faint spirit vein beneath the dry land pulsed softly, like a newborn heartbeat.
Arin stepped toward it.
He knelt and pressed his palm against the glowing line again.
This time, he did not withdraw.
"I need strength."
The world did not answer with words.
But it responded.
The spirit vein brightened.
Light spread outward through the cracked soil like thin roots extending in every direction. The single star in the broken sky flickered once — then burned steadier.
Qi surged.
Not wild.
Not chaotic.
Controlled.
It flowed into him as if the world itself had accepted his will.
—
Back in the collapsed mine—
Arin's body trembled.
A thin layer of blue light covered his skin.
The crushed ribs finished knitting together. His torn muscles tightened and sealed. Even the internal bleeding slowed rapidly.
His meridians, once narrow and mediocre, felt wider.
Clearer.
More efficient.
Arin opened his eyes.
For the first time since the collapse—
He pushed.
Qi gathered at his palms.
The pressure above him groaned.
Crack.
A small stone shifted.
Dust rained down.
Again.
He gathered qi, this time directing it through both arms and into his legs.
His muscles coiled.
Then—
He exhaled sharply.
"Move."
BOOM.
The rock above him split with a violent shockwave.
A slab the size of a door flew upward and smashed against the tunnel ceiling.
Fresh air rushed in.
Arin rolled forward as debris shifted around him. More stones collapsed — but this time he moved with precision, weaving through falling rubble.
His movements were sharper than before.
Cleaner.
A large boulder blocked the narrow exit ahead.
He did not hesitate.
Qi condensed around his fist.
The faint image of a glowing star flickered behind his pupils.
He struck.
The boulder shattered into fragments.
Light from the upper tunnel spilled down through cracks in the debris.
Voices echoed faintly in the distance.
"Search the area again!"
"Check for survivors!"
Arin paused.
If they saw this level of power from an "average" outer disciple…
Questions would follow.
Suspicion.
Trouble.
He lowered his aura immediately, suppressing the surging qi inside him. The blue glow faded. His breathing returned to normal.
By the time he climbed out of the broken tunnel—
He looked exhausted.
Injured.
Barely alive.
Two disciples froze when they saw him emerge from the rubble.
"Arin?!"
"You're alive?!"
Shock filled their faces.
Moments later, Darius Holt pushed through the crowd.
His eyes widened for half a second before he masked it.
"You survived?" Darius forced a laugh. "Lucky."
Arin brushed dust from his sleeve calmly.
"Yes. Lucky."
Their eyes met.
This time, Darius felt something he couldn't explain.
Arin's gaze was still quiet.
Still controlled.
But deeper.
As if something vast stood behind it.
The sect elder overseeing the rescue narrowed his eyes slightly.
For a brief moment—
He had sensed a fluctuation.
A strange surge of qi from the collapsed tunnel.
But now it was gone.
Only the weak aura of an outer disciple remained.
"Hm."
The elder turned away.
"Count the casualties."
As chaos resumed around him, Arin looked toward the distant mountain peak of Ironpeak Sect.
Inside his dantian—
The barren land trembled faintly.
The thin spirit vein had grown slightly thicker.
And the single star in the cracked sky shone just a little brighter.
This escape was not luck.
It was proof.
Proof that the world within him could change reality itself.
Arin lowered his gaze.
From this day forward—
He would no longer dig for scraps of power beneath others.
He would build his own.
And one day—
The heavens themselves would tremble.