Ning quickly settled into his new residence: a humble hut beside his ten acres of land.

  Inside, he found a bed, a cupboard, a small kitchen, and even a bathroom. All the basics were there, though technically, they weren't his. They were hand-me-downs from whoever had lived here last.

  "Thankfully, the servant cleaned the place and replaced the covers and blanket." Ning didn't want to imagine the alternative.

  Who knew what kind of cultivator had stayed here before? Maybe the guy failed a breakthrough and exploded. Or worse, Ning shuddered, it could've been unwashed socks.

  He didn't have much faith in the hygiene standards of teenagers in medieval fantasy worlds.

  The cupboard was next. Empty, of course. No hidden manuals, no surprise snacks, not even a forgotten copper coin. Truly, the inheritance of the ages.

  The kitchen wasn't much better: one pot, one ladle, and a stove that looked like it might explode the next time it saw firewood. He was saying a common theme here.

  "Well, at least Fang Zhu promised three months of rations."

  In fact, there was a reason for the genrosity.

  Beginners were advised against eating mortal food during qi cultivation. Something about turbid qi… or impurity. Either way, free food. Yay.

  Still, it was a roof over his head. And unlike Earth, rent was zero. Well, zero if you didn't count back-breaking labor and giving seventy-five percent of your harvest to the sect. A bargain, really.

  After a quick bath, Ning collapsed onto the bed. He considered himself an introvert at heart, and one day of moving, talking, and meeting new people had already shredded his mental stamina.

  "Alright, plans for the future," he muttered. "Step one, survive. Step two, improve cultivation. Step three, learn farming."

  The bed creaked ominously as he rolled onto his side. Ning frowned. "Step four, reinforce the furniture before it murders me in my sleep."

  With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off into his favorite type of relationship. Death without commitment. He slept.

  ...

  In the morning light, Ning stood bare-chested, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He sank into a horse stance, rooting himself to the ground before driving his fists forward with sharp, echoing cracks.

  After a grueling session, he finally stopped, muscles burning and chest heaving.

  [Panel]

  [Name: Ji Ning

  Spiritual Root: Mid-grade Spiritual Root

  Attributes: Five Elemental Attributes

  Talent: Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity

  Realm: 1st Stage of Qi Condensation (Consolidated)

  Cultivation Method: Pure Qi Sutra (1st floor: 1/100)

  Martial Arts: Bone Forging Fist (Starting: 99/100 → Small Accomplishment 1/200), Shadow Steps (Starting: 99/100)]

  The panel had grown more detailed than before. Seeing his effort reduced to neat numbers filled Ning with unexpected satisfaction.

  "The panel evolves on its own… but this change, " his lips twitched.

  It looked less like something out of a cultivation world and more like the RPG stat screens he used to grind back on Earth. Except now, he was the one inside it. For a moment his gaze sharpened, then he sighed. "Still no clue."

  Practicality won out. Cause or mystery, it worked in his favor. Progress he could measure was progress he could chase.

  In a world where most people gave up before noticing results, he had proof in digits, motivation in hard numbers.

  When his eyes lingered on the Bone Forging Fist and Shadow Steps, his lips curved faintly. Both teetered on the edge of breakthrough.

  The original Ji Ning had ground away at these arts for years, hamstrung only by a lack of cultivation. Now, with even a thread of Qi to fuel them, that foundation surged forward.

  "I really benefitted from 'Ji Ning.'" Ning couldn't help but say.

  Despite being starved of Qi, the boy had never slacked, drilling every day. That stubborn effort had turned into Ning's sudden leaps.

  Still, Ning realized he kept thinking of the former owner of this body as the "previous Ning." But the truth was, he was Ning now. Perhaps the two had merged, though it was clear the otherworlder's personality had taken the lead. One more mystery to unravel.

  "I'm Ning no more, but at the same time, I have gone even further beyond," Ning said, raising my hand in the empty room.

  ...Great, now he feels stupid.

  The mirror didn't laugh back, only showed a lean, sharp-eyed boy with muscle shaped by diligence. Bone Forging Fist had not only hardened his strikes but tempered his frame like forged steel. Each step meant more power, more resilience.

  "Good thing too," he said, flexing once. "Farming's still muscle work."

  After replenishing his Qi, Ning pressed the jade slip of sect rules to his forehead.

  Respect elders. Obey orders. Don't trespass on forbidden grounds. No duels without cause. Theft and desertion are punished by death.

  Straightforward enough. But the phrasing was uneven, absolute in some lines, vague in others.

  Classic. A rule's only as strict as the one enforcing it.

  Back on Earth, he'd learned early: the first step in surviving any system was memorizing its rulebook. Not to follow it blindly, but to see where the boundaries bent. If you knew the limits, you also knew how far you could push before the rope snapped.

  He exhaled. Same principle here. Keep your head down, learn the cracks, and move inside them.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Setting the slip aside, he brought out the Pure Qi Sutra.

  Like any sect method, it promised unique features. Practiced to its peak, it was said to not only refine Qi but purge one's marrow of impurities. Few reached that height, but its real strength was in what most disciples could grasp, purer Qi, longer endurance.

  That suited Ning just fine. The purer his Qi, the longer he could drill martial arts before running dry. He liked that.

  Crossing his legs, he closed his eyes and began breathing slow and deep. Spiritual energy trickled into his body, flowing through his meridians, refined at last into true Qi within his dantian.

  It was smooth enough, until the ache set in. His meridians throbbed faintly, protesting the strain.

  A beginner's limit. One hour at most, then rest. Push further and efficiency dropped sharply. Extended cultivation was a luxury of the higher realms, even most Foundation Establishment disciples couldn't afford long retreats.

  When at last he opened his eyes, sweat cooling on his brow, Ning whispered to himself, "One step at a time."

  ...

  For the next few days, Ning barely left his courtyard. The sect had granted this brief adjustment period, and wasting it would have been nothing short of foolish.

  Those quiet days turned out to be more enlightening than he'd expected.

  For example, besides the time limit problem, he also came across another issue when cultivating the pure Qi Sutra. Even within the time limit, constant circulation of qi without stabilization would cause faint discomfort in meridians. Just a dull abrasion, as if something inside him had been rubbed the wrong way and hadn't quite settled.

  That alone told him something was off. If it were some kind of internal problem, then no other signs besides the aforementioned symptoms can be seen. If it were exhaustion, rest would have erased it.

  This did neither.

  So Ning changed his approach.

  Instead of cultivating until his thoughts grew sluggish, he stopped early, right after his Qi completed several smooth circulation cycles and began to settle of its own accord. Only after the Qi fully stabilized did he resume.

  The difference was immediate.

  The lingering ache vanished. His breathing grew steadier and his meditation more effective.

  Ning opened his eyes slowly.

  "So that's it," he murmured.

  The opening lines of the Pure Qi Sutra surfaced in his mind.

  Qi is not seized, but welcomed.

  The body is not a furnace, but a vessel.

  At first, he thought it was mostly flowery words but now it seems there is more to it that meets the eye. It was not his fault, because almost 30% of the whole manual was literally just metaphors.

  Fortunately, what this meant was that the Pure Qi Sutra rewarded restraint.

  Over the next few sessions, he tested the idea deliberately. Once, he cultivated past the point of stabilization. Another time, he stopped early. The results were consistent. Beyond a certain threshold, circulation no longer strengthened his foundation. It merely irritated it, like polishing the same surface until it wore thin.

  ...

  Satisfied with his newfound discoveries, Ning finally left his courtyard.

  The fresh breeze cleared his mind.

  It was then Old Zhou, who seemed to have just returned from fishing, came over.

  "Junior Brother Ning, you look quite refreshed today." Old Zhou said, remembering that Ning was quite busy the past few days.

  "Junior Brother?" Ning blinked. Such a form of address still felt quite strange to him. But as they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. If he wanted to integrate properly into this world, he had no choice but to adapt.

  "Yes, I finally solved a problem that had been irritating me." Ning smiled.

  "Oh, what was it?" Old Zhou asked curiously.

  Ning simply recounted the ordeal. There was not much to hide about it anyway.

  Zhou chuckled. "So you noticed."

  Ning blinked. "You already knew?"

  "Yes," Zhou replied casually. "But it's better when you figure these things out yourself. Let's just call it a rite of passage for newcomers."

  Ning just blinked at that. Can you call such a thing a rite of passage?

  Seeing Ning about to complain, Old Zhou straightened and gestured toward the surrounding fields. "Cultivation is no different from farming. Too much water drowns the roots. Too little dries them out. Knowing when to stop matters just as much as knowing how to act."

  Then he pointed toward the distant hills. "Environment plays a role too. Cultivate near water-heavy land, and excess yin seeps in. Near bare stone, fire Qi gathers faster. Same technique, different results. Same with timing."

  "Timing?" Ning asked.

  Zhou nodded. "Morning Qi rises quickly but lacks stability. Night Qi is calm, but heavy. Midday is balanced, assuming your body can bear it."

  Ning bowed deeply. "Thank you, Senior Brother. I understand now."

  After all, getting such information was already a blessing. At least, he did not need to figure these out on his own.

  "Just common sense," Zhou replied, waving a hand. "You'll hear the elders explain it properly in a few days. The General Affairs Hall will post the lecture schedule soon."

  Ning thanked him once more, sighing inwardly. If even the basics weren't on the jade slips, the sect's intent was obvious: authority, not prevention.

  ...

  Thanks for reading~