Dawn came quietly to Ashen Ridge Village, pale light spilling over tiled rooftops and narrow stone paths as if nothing in the world had shifted. Yet Li Tian stood in the courtyard long before the first rooster crowed, wooden practice sword resting across his shoulders, eyes half-lidded but alert. The air felt heavier than yesterday. Not because of the sky. Because of him. The fragment buried near his dantian pulsed once, slow and deep, like a sleeping beast turning in its slumber. He exhaled through his nose and began his routine. One hundred downward strikes. One hundred thrusts. One hundred horizontal cuts. No wasted movement. No dramatic flourishes. Every strike cut through the cold air with quiet precision. If someone watched from afar, they would see a boy training diligently. They would not see the faint distortion in the air around his blade, a ripple so subtle it might be mistaken for heat haze. Li Tian noticed it. He said nothing.
By the time the sun crept over the eastern hills, his arms burned and his back was slick with sweat. He welcomed the pain. Pain meant control. Control meant safety. The fragment had not surged again since yesterday, but its presence pressed against his awareness like a sealed door with something breathing behind it. He ended his routine and bowed slightly toward the main house before stepping inside. His mother was already awake, arranging bowls on the wooden table. She did not comment on the thin tear in his sleeve or the faint scorch mark near his wrist. She simply set down an extra portion of rice porridge. "Eat before it cools," she said evenly. His father sat near the doorway, repairing a farming tool with careful strokes of a whetstone. The scraping sound was steady, deliberate. Li Tian understood. They saw more than they asked. They supported more than they said.
"I'll head to the outer fields later," his father added casually. "The path near the creek has been unstable lately." Li Tian met his gaze for a fraction of a second. A warning. The creek path was where village youths often gathered to spar. If something went wrong, that area would be empty today. Li Tian nodded once. No gratitude spoken. None needed.
After breakfast, he headed toward the training grounds at the edge of the village. The dirt clearing was already occupied. Zhang Wei stood at its center, flanked by two boys who laughed a little too loudly at everything he said. Zhang Wei's cultivation had reached the Third Stage of Body Tempering. Among the village youths, that made him formidable. When he noticed Li Tian approaching, his lips curved. "Still swinging that stick around?" he called out. "I heard you collapsed yesterday. Overtrained yourself?"
Li Tian walked past him without responding. He planted his wooden sword into the dirt and began adjusting his stance. Silence irritated people more than insults. Zhang Wei's smile thinned. "I'm talking to you."
"Then talk," Li Tian replied flatly, not looking at him.
A ripple of laughter died quickly. Zhang Wei stepped closer. "I'm challenging you. Three exchanges. If you lose, you stay off this ground for a month." His tone carried confidence edged with something sharper. He wanted to prove dominance. Li Tian understood the type. Loud. Predictable. He pulled his sword free and turned slowly. "Fine."
The air shifted. The two onlookers retreated a few paces. Zhang Wei lunged first, fist cocked back, spiritual energy coating his knuckles in a faint bronze glow. He aimed straight for Li Tian's shoulder, testing reaction speed. Li Tian pivoted left, wooden blade snapping down toward Zhang Wei's forearm. The strike connected with a dull crack. Zhang Wei hissed but did not retreat. He twisted, sweeping his leg in a low arc. Li Tian jumped back, but the kick grazed his ankle, forcing him off balance for half a breath. Zhang Wei seized the opening and charged.
Li Tian's heartbeat slowed. The fragment pulsed once. Power seeped into his limbs, subtle but undeniable. He stepped forward instead of back. His wooden blade thrust out, not at Zhang Wei's chest but at his collarbone. The tip struck with precise force, disrupting the flow of spiritual energy gathering there. Zhang Wei's momentum faltered. Li Tian followed with a horizontal strike to the ribs, then reversed grip and drove the pommel into Zhang Wei's abdomen. The third movement ended the exchange. Zhang Wei staggered backward, breath knocked from his lungs, eyes wide with disbelief.
Silence settled over the clearing. Li Tian lowered his sword. He had used only a fraction of what simmered beneath his skin, yet even that fraction was dangerous. Zhang Wei forced himself upright, face flushed with humiliation. "You… you were hiding your strength."
Li Tian tilted his head slightly. "You never asked."
Anger twisted Zhang Wei's features. He roared and surged forward again, spiritual energy flaring brighter than before. This time he intended harm. The ground cracked faintly under his step. Li Tian's gaze sharpened. The fragment responded instantly, a surge of heat racing through his meridians. His vision sharpened. He could see the exact path of Zhang Wei's fist before it moved. He sidestepped with minimal effort and struck once. Not with the blade. With his palm. It landed square against Zhang Wei's chest. A compressed wave of force exploded outward.
Zhang Wei flew back three meters and hit the dirt hard. Dust rose around him in a choking cloud. The two onlookers froze. One of them swallowed audibly. Li Tian stared at his own hand. That had been more than intended. The fragment quieted, as if satisfied. He felt no triumph. Only calculation.
Zhang Wei coughed, struggling to sit up. There was no severe injury, but the message was clear. Li Tian sheathed his wooden sword across his back. "Three exchanges," he said calmly. "You lost twice." Then he turned and walked away.
Behind him, whispers began.
By afternoon, the story had spread through half the village. Li Tian ignored the curious glances. He moved toward the wooded hills beyond the outer fields. The creek path was indeed empty. His father worked not far away, back turned but posture subtly angled toward the forest's edge. Watching without watching. Li Tian stepped into the trees.
The forest was dense, shadows pooling between trunks. He moved deeper until village sounds faded. Only then did he stop. The fragment pulsed again, stronger. This time he did not suppress it. He sat cross-legged and guided his breathing, drawing spiritual energy from the air. It flowed toward him more readily than before, thin streams converging at his dantian. The fragment absorbed some, refined some, and released a portion back into his meridians, purer than what he had gathered. Li Tian's brows furrowed. This was not normal. No cultivation manual described such a cycle.
A branch snapped behind him.
He rose instantly, turning toward the sound. A Shadow Fang Wolf stepped into view, its dark fur bristling, eyes gleaming with predatory intelligence. It must have been drawn by the surge of spiritual energy. The beast was at least equivalent to Fourth Stage Body Tempering. Stronger than Zhang Wei. Its lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
Li Tian's grip tightened around his wooden sword. "Unlucky," he muttered, though his eyes held no fear. The wolf lunged. He rolled sideways, barely avoiding snapping jaws that crushed a sapling where he had stood. He retaliated with a downward strike aimed at the beast's spine. The wood connected but did little more than anger it. Too tough. He clicked his tongue softly.
The wolf swiped with a claw, slicing through his sleeve and drawing a thin line of blood across his arm. Pain flared. The fragment answered violently. Heat surged through him, stronger than before. His meridians burned but did not rupture. Instead, the energy condensed along his blade. The wooden sword darkened, faint cracks glowing red as if something inside it had ignited.
The wolf hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was enough.
Li Tian stepped in close, inside the arc of its next swipe. He drove the blade upward beneath its jaw. This time the strike carried weight beyond muscle. A sharp shockwave rippled outward. The wolf's body stiffened mid-motion. For a heartbeat, forest sounds vanished. Then the beast collapsed, lifeless, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the wound.
Li Tian stood still, chest rising and falling evenly. The glow faded from the wooden blade, leaving it scorched but intact. He looked down at the fallen beast. "So that's how you want to play," he murmured to the fragment. It did not respond.
From the edge of the trees, unseen, a figure watched briefly before stepping away without a sound.
When Li Tian returned home near dusk, his mother noticed the torn sleeve and faint bloodstain. She said nothing, only handed him a clean cloth and herbal paste. His father glanced once at the wooden sword, now faintly charred near the tip, and nodded almost imperceptibly. No questions. No praise. Just quiet acknowledgment.
That night, as Li Tian lay awake staring at the ceiling beams, he felt the fragment pulse again. Slower. Deeper. Beyond the village, beyond the hills, something vast seemed to stir in response.
And for the first time, Li Tian smiled faintly in the dark.