Chapter 5 – The Lowest Point

Jack staggered through the streets, each step heavier than the last.

The adrenaline from the fight with the kids had already faded, leaving behind a dull, throbbing pain across his body.

Bruises blossomed along his ribs, his knuckles ached, and there was a nasty cut on his eyebrow that kept dripping blood into his eye.

"Shit…" he muttered, wiping at it.

He didn't know where he was anymore.

Chinatown was long behind him.

The bright neon lights and familiar streets were gone, replaced by darker alleys, unfamiliar corners, and the distant sounds of drunks arguing in some shitty dive bar.

He was in another part of New York.

Jack gritted his teeth, forcing himself forward.

Then—the world tilted.

His legs gave out.

His body collapsed onto the cold, dirty ground, his cheek pressing against damp pavement.

Not again.

He clenched his fists, trying to move, to crawl, to fight against the weakness, but his limbs wouldn't listen.

He rolled onto his back, breathing heavily, staring up at the darkening sky.

His entire body ached, but this wasn't the first time he'd been in a situation like this.

No.

It was just like before.

Back when he was a starving kid, sleeping in back alleys, surviving on nothing but stolen scraps and dumb luck.

Jack let out a shaky laugh, barely a breath.

"Damn. Life really came full circle, huh?"

Then—he heard scratching.

A small rat scurried out from the shadows, nose twitching as it approached him.

Jack tilted his head, watching it.

"Oh, hey."

The rat paused, sniffing the air.

Jack exhaled. "You know… when I was young, I used to sleep with a bunch of you guys."

The rat tilted its head, as if listening.

Jack let out a quiet chuckle, wincing as it made his ribs ache.

"Yeah. That's what people say made me crazy."

The rat ignored him, digging into a pile of trash beside him, nibbling on something that was definitely not food-safe.

Jack reached out and gently patted its head.

"Crazy? You know what's actually crazy?"

The rat didn't respond.

Jack grinned, eyes half-lidded.

"Me sleeping with you guys. Maybe that really did make me crazy."

"Kekekeke…"

The laugh was quiet at first, but then it grew, turning into a low, unhinged chuckle.

Jack kept mumbling to himself, talking in half-finished thoughts, his words blending together.

His consciousness faded in and out.

The pain dulled, replaced by a creeping exhaustion, his body sinking into the filth like it was a bed of silk.

His eyelids grew heavy.

Then—

A shadow moved.

A figure approached.

Silent. Controlled.

The old man stopped just short of where Jack lay slumped against the trash, his expression unreadable as he studied the half-conscious mess in front of him.

His weathered hands reached forward, pulling back Jack's tattered sleeve, revealing his thin, bruised arms.

His clothes were in ruins, his body a wreck, yet—

The old man's gaze sharpened when he saw it.

The single earring dangling from Jack's left ear.

A stick-shaped, golden ornament, almost insignificant—but unmistakable.

The old man's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

"Interesting."

He knelt, pressing two fingers to Jack's pulse.

Steady. Weak, but steady.

His other hand gripped Jack's jaw, tilting his head, getting a closer look at his face.

Then, after a moment—

The old man's lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

"So… it is you."

With zero hesitation, the old man hoisted Jack up, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of groceries.

Jack barely stirred, completely unconscious.

The old man exhaled, turning toward the dark alleyway ahead.

"Come now, little monkey."

"It's time to wake up."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, carrying Jack toward his fate.

…

Jack woke up slowly, his senses dull at first, like he was floating in warm water.

Then—pain.

His entire body ached, every muscle screaming in exhaustion. His chest felt tight, his arms and legs were numb, and worst of all—he couldn't move an inch.

His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim candlelight.

The first thing he noticed?

Bandages.

A lot of bandages.

His chest, arms, legs—everything was wrapped up like a goddamn mummy.

He tried to shift, to move even a little—but nothing happened.

What the hell?

Then—a voice.

"I wouldn't struggle if I were you."

Jack's eyes snapped to the side, locking onto the old man sitting calmly across the room, sipping from a steaming cup of tea.

The same old man who picked him up off the streets.

The old man set his cup down. "I've sealed your acupoints. Your body cannot move."

Jack blinked.

"…My what?"

The old man sighed like he was already exhausted dealing with him. "Your acupoints. The flow of qi in your body is unstable, so I restricted your movements. If you force yourself, your newly established qi will be disrupted."

Jack stared at him.

Then he asked the most important question.

"Where are my pants?"

The old man rubbed his temples. "They were filthy, so I took them off."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Oh no. No, no, no. You did something to me while I was passed out, didn't you?"

The old man froze mid-sip.

Jack gasped dramatically. "You sick bastard! You took advantage of my unconscious body!"

WHACK!

A fist came down on Jack's head, knocking the breath out of him.

"BE GRATEFUL, YOU DAMN MONKEY!" the old man barked. "I SAVED YOUR LIFE!"

Jack winced, groaning. "Shit, old man, I'm already injured—now you're beating up a cripple?"

The old man ignored him, pouring himself another cup of tea. "If I didn't intervene, you would've died in that alley."

Jack snorted. "Nah. I would've been fine."

The old man gave him a blank stare.

Jack sighed. "Okay, okay, maybe I'd be mostly dead."

The old man rolled his eyes.

Jack shifted his gaze to the room, finally taking in his surroundings.

The place was simple, small, with a faint scent of herbs and incense in the air. Wooden walls, stone floors, stacks of old books and scrolls piled in the corner.

Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Alright, old man, you dragged me here, patched me up, sealed my whatever points… But you haven't told me who the hell you are."

The old man set his cup down.

Then, he finally introduced himself.

"I am from K'un-Lun."

Jack blinked.

Then he frowned.

"…Cunt Long?"

The old man twitched.

Jack smirked. "Damn, old man. That's rough. Who the hell named your place? Sounds like a shitty adult film studio."

The old man exhaled slowly, as if debating whether to let him live.

Then, he casually reached out and tapped Jack's throat.

A small jolt of qi pulsed through Jack's body.

Jack opened his mouth—but no sound came out.

His eyes widened.

The old man smiled faintly. "Much better."

Jack glared.

The old man continued. "K'un-Lun is a sacred place, hidden from this world. It is where warriors and sages have trained for centuries in the ways of martial arts and qi cultivation."

Jack rolled his eyes—but without sound, all he could do was make exaggerated faces.

The old man ignored him and kept talking.

"Your body is… unique."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

The old man sipped his tea, choosing his words carefully.

"You have the body of an immortal sage. A vessel destined to change fate."

Jack tilted his head.

Immortal sage? The hell does that mean?

The old man didn't elaborate. 

Instead, he simply stated—"Your existence is not an accident."

Jack stared at him, waiting for more, but the old man stood up.

He turned toward the door, hands behind his back.

"From now on," he said without looking back, "regard me as your master. I will teach you all you need to survive this new life."

Then—he walked out.

Jack laid there, still mute, still unable to move, still pants-less.

He sighed deeply.

"…This is some bullshit."

The next morning, Jack sat cross-legged on the floor, arms folded, as the old man slowly unraveled the bandages covering his body.

Jack yawned loudly, looking as bored as humanly possible.

"So, uh… what's your name, old perv?"

The old man twitched.

Jack grinned. "Oh, sorry, I meant 'master.'"

The old man's eye twitched harder. "You will address me properly."

Jack stretched his arms lazily. "Sure thing, Master Perv."

The old man seriously considered strangling him.

Jack glanced around. Now that his brain wasn't foggy from pain, he finally took in the surroundings properly.

A simple wooden shack stood behind them. A small courtyard stretched ahead, leading to a quiet garden, the air smelling faintly of herbs and damp soil. And in the center—

A massive tree, its branches thick and ancient, towering like a watchful guardian.

But the sky?

The sky was New York's sky.

Jack could see faint outlines of skyscrapers in the distance, neon glows reflecting off the clouds.

Jack squinted. "Wait a damn minute."

The old man sipped his tea, completely unfazed. "Something wrong?"

Jack bolted toward the edge of the courtyard.

He ran straight for the skyline, ready to make a break for it.

Then—

WHAM.

Jack collided face-first into an invisible wall.

He stumbled back, gripping his nose. "THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

The old man didn't even look up. "A barrier."

Jack blinked rapidly, shaking off the impact. "A what?"

The old man finally turned toward him, completely calm. "Did you not hear what I said yesterday? No one can enter or leave this place without my permission."

Jack rubbed his face, narrowing his eyes. "So, lemme get this straight. You saved my life… just to IMPRISON me?!"

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Imprison? No. Train? Yes."

Jack crossed his arms. "Right. That's literally what every kidnapper says."

The old man sipped his tea again. "You're free to leave. Just walk through the barrier."

Jack stared.

Then, without breaking eye contact—he charged at full speed again.

WHAM.

Jack bounced off the invisible force and landed flat on his ass.

The old man exhaled through his nose. "Fool."

Jack groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "Perv."

The old man ignored him.

After a few failed escape attempts, Jack grudgingly accepted he wasn't getting out anytime soon.

Which meant… he had to deal with the old perv.

Jack dragged his feet behind the old man, who gave him a half-assed tour of the place.

"This shack is where we sleep."

Jack peeked inside—one bed, one floor mat.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "One bed?"

The old man didn't blink. "I sleep in the bed. You sleep on the floor."

Jack tilted his head. "You do realize I'm a known cuddler, right?"

The old man kept walking.

"This is the courtyard where you will train."

Jack scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I'll train."

The old man ignored him again.

"This is the garden, where I grow my herbs."

Jack leaned down and poked a random plant. "You grow weed, old man?"

The old man whacked him on the back of the head.

Jack stumbled forward, groaning. "Goddamn it, you geriatric kung fu grandpa!"

The old man walked away. "Stop touching things."

Jack flipped him off.

The tour ended at the giant tree.

Jack tilted his head back, admiring it. "Huh. Big tree. Neat."

The old man finally stopped and turned to him.

"From now on, this place will be your home. Here, I will teach you the ways of martial arts, qi, and the knowledge you will need to survive this new life."

Jack gave him the most deadpan look in existence.

"Yeah. No thanks."

The old man stared. "You have no choice."

Jack grinned. "Everyone has a choice, Master Perv."

Then, he turned around and walked away.

Jack spent the next few hours doing everything BUT training.

Ignored every word of the old man's lecture. Checked.

Tried climbing the tree instead of practicing stances. Checked.

Laid on the ground, staring at the sky, dramatically sighing. Checked.

Took a nap. In the middle of the old man's speech. Checked.

That last one?

That was the boiling point.

Jack was snoring softly, arms folded behind his head, while the old man lectured about qi flow.

The old man's eye twitched.

His fingers flexed.

Then, without warning—

He grabbed Jack by the collar and yanked him off the ground.

Jack flailed. "AYO WHAT THE FU—"

The old man dragged him toward the courtyard with zero effort, Jack kicking and squirming the whole way.

Jack tried to grab the ground. "LET ME GO, YOU OLD GOBLIN!"

The old man didn't even slow down.

Jack swung his fists weakly. "I SWEAR TO GOD, THE MOMENT I GET STRONGER, I'M GONNA DROP-KICK YOUR ANCIENT ASS INTO A RETIREMENT HOME!"

The old man stepped into the courtyard—

Then, he let go.

Jack tumbled forward, rolling across the dirt, groaning. "Fucking hell…"

He sat up, rubbing his head, glaring. "What the hell was that for?!"

The old man finally spoke.

"If you have the energy to sleep through my lessons—"

He cracked his knuckles.

"—then you have the energy to fight."

Jack froze.

Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Oh? You wanna throw hands, old man?"

The old man smiled faintly.

"Try me, monkey."

Jack's grin widened.

"Bet."

And just like that—his first lesson began.

**A/N**

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**A/N**