Chapter 30: The First Step
The night air was cold, pressing against Asher's skin like an invisible weight. He sat in the alleyway, cross-legged, the stolen Basic Qi Refinement Manual open in front of him. The dim moonlight barely illuminated the pages, but he didn't need to see them.
He had already memorized everything.
In his past life, Asher Damien had destroyed an entire system of power. He had broken rules, rewritten reality, and turned gods into dust. But in this world?
He was nothing.
And that was fine.
Because from nothing, he would rise again.
His fingers traced the crude diagrams in the manual. It was the lowest-ranked technique in existence—so weak that even the most impoverished sects used it as a joke. It had countless flaws, wasted too much energy, and could barely even refine Qi.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was understanding how this world's power worked.
Asher inhaled deeply, focusing his mind.
The first step to cultivation was drawing Qi from the world into the body. It was supposed to be difficult for mortals, requiring weeks—sometimes months—before feeling even a trace of energy.
But Asher Damien was no ordinary mortal.
He had millions of years of experience in breaking limits.
As he focused, he felt it—Qi.
It wasn't just energy. It was the essence of existence itself. It flowed through the air, through the ground, through every living thing. It was alive.
And it was laughing at him.
The moment he tried to absorb it, it recoiled, resisting him like an immune system rejecting a foreign invader.
Interesting.
A normal cultivator would struggle, forcefully trying to drag the Qi inside. But Asher didn't fight against rules—he bent them.
Instead of pulling, he let go. Instead of trying to dominate Qi, he invited it.
He welcomed it, adapted to it, let it seep into him like mist.
And then—Qi surged into his body.
A normal person would have absorbed a tiny fraction.
Asher? He absorbed everything around him.
The alley darkened as the surrounding Qi was drained, rushing into his frail body like a flood breaking through a dam.
His body screamed.
Crack!
Pain exploded through his bones. His muscles burned as if set ablaze. His veins twisted, expanding, adapting to the sudden influx of power. His mind buzzed with overwhelming energy.
He gritted his teeth.
This was a familiar pain—the pain of growth.
He endured it. Controlled it. Mastered it.
And then, with one final breath—
BOOM!
A shockwave rippled outward, blasting dust and debris through the alley. The ground cracked beneath him. The slum rats nearby jolted awake, looking around in confusion.
Asher exhaled slowly.
His body felt… stronger. Not powerful, not invincible—but stronger.
He clenched his fist, feeling the energy flowing within him.
He had reached Body Tempering Realm.
The first step.
And in the depths of his soul—something moved.
A whisper. A shadow flickering in the corner of his vision.
His power was awakening.
The next morning, Asher left the alley and stepped into the slums once more.
The hunger was gone. His body no longer felt like it was about to collapse. But now, he had a new problem.
He had no money.
Cultivation required resources—pills, techniques, weapons. He had none.
And that meant he needed a way to make money.
The slums were filled with desperate people. Desperate people meant opportunity.
Asher spent the day gathering information, listening to the whispers of the streets. He learned that the city—Ironcrest—was ruled by three major sects:
1. The Silver Moon Sect – Known for their speed techniques and assassination methods.
2. The Crimson Blade Pavilion – A brute-force sect that valued raw strength.
3. The Jade Serpent Hall – Experts in alchemy and poison cultivation.
All three sects controlled the economy. Their disciples had access to resources, training, and money.
And Asher had none of that.
But that didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of them.
He found his first opportunity in the marketplace.
A young girl, no older than sixteen, stood in front of a street stall, her hands trembling as she counted her coins. She wore a tattered robe, clearly from a poor background. The merchant in front of her—a fat, greasy man—grinned as he took her money and handed her a small jade bottle.
"Pleasure doing business," the merchant sneered.
The girl turned to leave, but Asher stepped in front of her.
She blinked. "What do you want?"
Asher's eyes flickered to the bottle in her hand.
"You just got scammed," he said casually.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Asher pointed at the bottle. "That's supposed to be a Qi Refining Pill, right? Helps with cultivation?"
The girl hesitated, then nodded. "Yes…?"
Asher smirked. "It's fake."
Her face paled. "What?"
"The pills sold in street stalls are low-quality at best, poison at worst," Asher explained. "The real stuff is only sold through sects or trusted alchemists."
The girl stared at him, then at the bottle. She suddenly looked like she was about to cry.
"I spent everything on this…" she whispered.
Asher sighed. "Unlucky."
Then, he turned to the merchant.
"Hey, fatass," he said. "Give her money back."
The marketplace went silent.
The merchant's face darkened. "Who the hell do you think you are, brat?"
Asher smiled. "Just a concerned citizen."
The merchant's eye twitched. "You want a refund? How about I break your legs instead?"
He snapped his fingers. Immediately, two thugs stepped forward—Qi Gathering cultivators.
Asher's grin widened.
Finally. A warm-up fight.
The first thug lunged, his fist aiming for Asher's ribs.
Asher dodged.
Not with speed. But with precision.
The fist barely missed him. The thug stumbled forward, off-balance.
Asher grabbed the back of his head—and slammed it into the ground.
CRACK!
The second thug cursed, drawing a rusted dagger. He stabbed forward.
Asher sidestepped. The blade barely grazed his arm.
His hand shot forward, gripping the thug's wrist—then he twisted.
SNAP!
The thug howled in pain.
Asher kicked him in the chest, sending him crashing into the merchant's stall. Bottles shattered, jade vials rolled across the dirt.
The entire marketplace went silent.
The fat merchant's face turned pale.
"W-Wait," he stammered. "We can talk about—"
Asher grabbed the stolen money pouch from the counter and tossed it to the girl.
Then he grabbed one of the shattered jade bottles from the ground, shoving the sharp edge against the merchant's throat.
The man froze.
"Let me make this clear," Asher said, his voice quiet. "If I ever see you scamming people again… I'll make sure you can't talk anymore."
The merchant swallowed hard. "I-I understand."
Asher grinned. "Good."
He released him and turned to leave. The girl stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Who… are you?" she asked.
Asher chuckled.
"Just a guy trying to make money."
That night, Asher sat in his alley once more.
He had made enemies. He had started cultivating. He had taken his first step.
And deep inside him—the shadows stirred once more.
This world had no idea what kind of monster had just reincarnated.
But soon?
They would.