Choice

As the shimmering light faded around him, Zhenya found himself back in the tomb, its walls still the same as before he left. The only difference was that the array was gone and the door was open again. Clutching the pill and sword in his hands, he breathed in and out a couple of times and sat down, cross-legged.

"Gotta make use of every opportunity I can grasp," he remarked, closing his eyes and absorbing the dense key in the room slowly. Circulating it according to the technique he inherited from the ancestor.

Feeling the qi flow through his meridians. The energy getting absorbed by his flesh smoothly. It moved smoother with every passing minute; he felt energized, his flesh stronger than ever. Then it happened: the qi inside his body started pulsing, differently from his usual cultivation rhythm. Zhenya's eyes snapped open as he felt something shift within his core, like a door unlocking. He'd reached the next minor realm.

Not only did his body feel more robust and powerful than before, but it also brimmed with an unexplainable vitality. Almost as if he was a newborn baby and just now grew up into a small child. His muscles hummed with newfound energy, and his skin seemed smoother and tougher.

"Is this what the manual mentioned as the first stage of body cultivation? The initial flesh tempering realm," he muttered, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief and pride. A beaming smile broke across his face as he clenched his fists.

His gaze shifted to the sword resting by his side. He grasped it with a steady hand, feeling the weight differently now; it was lighter, almost as if it was an extension of his arm. Taking a deep breath, he moved into an open stance, his mind recalling the principles of the serene sword tide.

The first motion came naturally: a sweeping slash, smooth and unhurried. His body flowed with the movement, each step deliberate yet seamless. The sword hummed faintly as it cut through the dense qi.

He transitioned into the next movement—a downward slice. The blade's arc was precise, his grip firm yet flexible, and his stance solid as a rock but at the same time flexible. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he repeated the motion, striving to grasp the essence of the technique combining offense and defense into one.

As he entered the final sequence, an explosive thrust, he felt the surge of power radiate from his core. The sword became an extension of his body. He exhaled, lowering the blade, his breaths measured.

The practice session left his muscles tingling, not with exhaustion but with the satisfying burn of refinement. A grin tugged at his lips. "So this is what body cultivation is for. Feels great," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Zhenya sat down again; he saw that there was still some qi left. So he went back to cultivating, trying to break through to the next minor realm.

As Zhenya sat cross-legged, he closely inspected his body while he circulated the qi throughout. What were the differences between before stepping onto the path of body cultivation and after? He wanted to know as much as possible about his own body to not leave room for any hidden dangers.

Carefully circulating the qi and letting his flesh absorb it he felt it, the curculation became smoother and it took less effort after he broke through to the flesh tempering realm. As the dense qi in the room gradually diminished.

Hours passed in silence, the only indication of time being the qi that was visible to the naked eye disappearing little by little. By the time Zhenya opened his eyes, his body hummed with vitality; he had broken through to the second layer of the body tempering realm. His skin became smoother, and he felt sturdier, his senses also sharpening significantly.

"Another step forward," he murmured, clenching his fists. His gaze fell on the now-empty chamber. It was time to move on. But before that he had to make a decision: was he going to take the pill now or later?

He looked at the pill, of which he knew almost nothing about it, only what Solvara had told him. "I should first gather more information about it." He mumbled, stuffing it in his pocket and grasping the sword, he approached the door, ready to face the clan; after this opportunity, he was eager to see their reactions about his cultivation progress.

He slowly exited the room, climbing the winding stairs again, his gaze scanning everything to not miss any other treasures or opportunities Jia Qiu could have hidden. But unfortunately he found nothing as he arrived at the huge black doors where this all started.

Pushing them open, he saw only the patriarch and about ten little girls waiting in the hallway. Zhenya's brows knitted together, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the perplexing sight.

"Um, patriarch, what is going on here? Are you interested in little girls?" Zhenya said, his lips forming a straight line and his expression as blank as a slate.

The patriarch's face twitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if praying for patience. "These," he said with careful dignity, "are for you to choose from; one of them will become your personal servant, as stated by the ancestor." Opening his eyes, he fixed Zhenya with a stern look that somehow contained a hint of amusement. "And I would advise against such assumptions about your elders in the future."

"Are you serious? I get my own personal servant, and I can choose?" Zhenya inquired, his eyes narrowing with a mix of doubt and curiosity, his lips pressing into a thin line as though trying to gauge the truth behind the words.

"Yes," Jia Fu stated. "The ancestor left behind a couple orders for when someone awakened the true bloodline. So we have found the most beautiful girls around your age from the servants."