Growth

De-Reece's breathing slows, each inhale echoing softly against the stone walls of the cave. The coolness of the rock presses against his back as he peers into the darkness ahead. His heart still thunders from the chase, but now the dragon's roars are muffled by the thick stone, distant and impotent.

As his eyes adjust, something catches his attention — a faint, unnatural glow. Pale light pools along the walls, illuminating the path further inside. De-Reece's brows furrow. These aren't natural luminescent fungi or glowing minerals. No, the light is steady, unyielding. He steps closer and confirms his suspicions — small stones, smooth and round, have been placed at intervals along the cave walls. Man-made.

Someone has been here before.

His pulse quickens, but not from fear. Caution guides his steps now, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his zombie knife. Each stone seems precisely positioned, forming a subtle trail leading deeper into the cavern. The path twists and narrows until De-Reece stumbles upon something unexpected — a trapdoor.

It is almost flush with the ground, only a faint outline and a small switch in the corner giving it away. The air around it smells stale, undisturbed for who knows how long. De-Reece crouches, pressing the small hidden button. It groans in protest, but after a few moments of determined effort, the trapdoor swings open with a gritty scrape.

A short ladder leads into a small chamber below, carved carefully into the rock. The space is barely large enough for him to stand upright. It is dimly lit by more of the glowing stones, casting eerie shadows across the contents of the hidden room.

His gaze darts across the shelves and crates. Dust coats most surfaces, but the items within appear surprisingly well-preserved. De-Reece's fingers brush over a small pile of coins — a modest sum of money, though hardly a fortune. Next to it, a cluster of crystals, faintly pulsing with energy, rests in a velvet pouch. He recognizes them as low-grade spirit crystals — useful for cultivation, though if all the reading he has done is accurate, he won't be using them until he's sure.

But what truly draws his attention are the books.

Several manuals, bound in worn leather, lie stacked along the shelf. Their titles, though faded, are still legible. "Fundamentals of Elemental Arrays," "Essence Refinement Techniques," and "Cultivation Path of the Heavenly Demon."

Cultivation and array manuals and what looks like a simple alchemist's book too.

De-Reece's mouth goes dry. These aren't simple meditation guides — they are foundational texts for manipulating energy and constructing elemental defensive or offensive arrays. The knowledge within could give him an edge.

Beside the books, a small wooden case holds vials filled with various liquids — some clear, others shimmering with a faint glow. He unlatches the box carefully, inspecting each vial. Healing elixirs? Poison antidotes? Without proper examination, it's impossible to tell, but their presence hints at someone far more prepared than a mere wanderer.

And then another two vials catch his attention. They have a brownish complexion to the pills in the first vial and a blue haze to the second set.

Then, he notices the pouch.

At first glance, it seems entirely ordinary — plain brown leather, slightly worn at the edges. Yet when De-Reece picks it up, the weight feels off. Too light for something so full. Frowning, he opens the drawstring and tentatively reaches inside.

His hand goes in deeper than it should have. Much deeper.

His arm sinks past his wrist, past his elbow. It is a spatial pouch.

De-Reece's mind reels. A storage space about a meter squared, hidden within something that looks so simple. These are rare, valuable, and often only owned by powerful cultivators or wealthy merchants.

Swallowing hard, he slings the pouch onto his belt, his mind racing. Who had left all of this here? And why?

Whatever the answers, De-Reece knows one thing for certain — his discovery has just shifted the balance of his future. The dragon outside is the least of his worries now.

With one last glance at the chamber, he gathers the manuals, vials, and crystals, tucking them securely into his new spatial pouch.

For the first time since appearing here, he manages to smile — he's always enjoyed reading, even as a kid. It didn't matter if it was a newspaper or a fantasy book, he'd read it. He hadn't originally planned to spend long in the cave, mostly just trying to find a path to a different exit, but how could he leave this cultivation heaven?

He looks down at the "Cultivation Path of The Heavenly Demon" manuscript in front of him and opens it.

He is instantly dragged into a vision — something he hadn't expected.

A towering figure appears before him, a presence so overwhelming it seems to press against De-Reece's very soul. The figure's face is shrouded in shadow, yet his long black hair, tied in an elegant Chinese bun, flows like a dark river down his back. His robe is a masterpiece — black as midnight, with intricate gold and crimson embroidery forming swirling patterns of dragons and flames. The aura he exudes is not just power — it is absolute authority, a force of will that demands submission.

His voice resonates through the void, deep and steady, carrying a weight of unshakable conviction. "I am the Heavenly Demon, Cheon Ma Sin Gun," he declares, each word a thunderclap in De-Reece's mind. "I was born a man, and I shall die a man — but the world saw fit to brand me a demon. Perhaps because I walked a path carved from dominance and strength, where mercy was a luxury I could not afford."

He takes a step forward, the hem of his robe trailing like a dark flame behind him. "Remember this — power does not bow to kindness. Pity is the chain that binds the weak. And yet..." his voice softens, just slightly, "I learned too late that those closest to you must be protected — not with words, but with unwavering might."

His gaze, though hidden, seems to pierce De-Reece to his core. "The road ahead will break you if you let it. Perhaps your path will diverge from mine — perhaps not — but know this: to ascend in the brutal world of cultivation, there is no room for hesitation."

The Heavenly Demon extends his hand, and tendrils of dark energy coil around his fingers. "You are too weak for me to pass down true power. For now, I shall grant you a movement technique — 'Phantom Shadow Steps.' It is a foundation, a beginning. Each step blends speed with unpredictability, allowing you to shift your weight and balance at impossible angles, creating the illusion of teleportation. With enough mastery, you will leave behind only a blur — an afterimage — while you close the distance to strike."

He lets the energy dissipate, his voice once again firm. "Reach the Qi Refining stage, and the true path of the Heavenly Demon will open to you. When you find a follower worthy of your trust — one who would lay down their life without question — return to me through this manuscript, and I shall gift them power worthy of your name."

"These vials you discovered are not mere trinkets," his voice rumbles. "The clear ones — antidotes — will purge your body of poisons, a safeguard against treachery. The bone-cleansing marrow liquid, taken at the 3rd, 6th, and 9th node breaks during body refinement, will strip away the filth within your bones. Painful — but necessary."

He gestures subtly, and the brown and blue vials shimmer in De-Reece's memory. "The brown pills — body-tempering pills — are for after the body construction stage. They will fortify your muscles, tendons, and bones, reinforcing your mortal shell with spiritual energy — something that is not normally done during the body tempering stage. And the blue-hazed vials hold healing elixirs — vital in emergencies, to mend wounds and fractures swiftly. Waste none of them — each represents struggle and sacrifice."

His hand hovers over an invisible hilt at his side. "There is a sword — one I wielded in my youth, a weapon forged in blood and struggle. It lies hidden within the cave you now stand in, sealed within a slot in the wall. Take it. It will serve you well on the first steps of your journey."

His final words echo like a commandment. "Stand tall, young demon. The world will not suffer the weak, and the disciples of the Heavenly Demon will never allow you to disgrace this path. Be strong — or be forgotten." He wears a magnanimous cultivator robe, black with gold and red embroidery.

He is instantly dragged back — but has he even left the room? Has any time even passed? He sits, confused, De-Reece's heart pounding — not from fear, but from something far more potent. Admiration. The Heavenly Demon, Cheon Ma Sin Gun, is everything he had envisioned a true cultivator to be — a figure of overwhelming strength, unyielding will, and relentless ambition. His words don't break De-Reece's spirit; they ignite it.

This is no mere lecture — it is a gift. A glimpse into a path carved from dominance and sacrifice, one that resonates with the fire burning deep within De-Reece's core. The weight of the Heavenly Demon's presence doesn't crush him; it lifts him.

When the vision fades, and the silent room returns, De-Reece finds himself gripping the manuscript tightly, his knuckles whitening even though he has caramel skin. His mind buzzes with every word spoken, every lesson etched into his soul.

"I will not disgrace this path," he whispers to himself, a fierce smile tugging at his lips. "I will grow strong — not to beg for mercy, but to command it, that's the only way to protect those below you."

His gaze drops to the newly-formed writing and diagrams on the manuscript's pages. The "Phantom Shadow Steps" — a foundation, a beginning. He welcomes the challenge, the struggle. This is the path he has been waiting for.

Phantom Shadow Steps is not a technique bound by mere footwork — it is a manifestation of control over Qi flow and spatial awareness. At its core, the technique relies on the cultivator's ability to synchronize their internal Qi circulation with their physical movements, blurring the line between reality and illusion.

The technique operates on three fundamental principles:

Qi Infusion and Flow:

The cultivator channels their Qi into their legs and meridians, not in a constant stream, but in controlled bursts. This sudden infusion of energy allows for short, explosive movements — abrupt shifts in direction that defy natural momentum. By alternating the flow of Qi between the Yin and Yang meridians of the lower body, the cultivator creates a disjointed rhythm, making their movements unpredictable to the naked eye. Afterimage Projection:

As Qi bursts through the leg meridians, it leaks ever so slightly into the surrounding air, disturbing the flow of spiritual energy in the environment. This "Qi residue" leaves a faint imprint — an afterimage — mimicking the cultivator's last position for a brief moment. To an opponent, it appears as if the cultivator has split into two forms: the lingering shadow and the real body. Weight Redistribution and Balance:

Unlike ordinary movement techniques, Phantom Shadow Steps requires the user to shift their weight at impossible angles, almost as if defying gravity. This is achieved by circulating Qi into the Baihui and Yongquan points — the apex of the head and the soles of the feet — creating a temporary stabilization of balance even in mid-step. A master of the technique can push off the ground with minimal contact, appearing to float or teleport short distances.

Stages of Mastery:

Initial Stage: The user can create a single, delayed afterimage, confusing slower opponents. Movements are still somewhat clumsy, and the Qi expenditure is high. Intermediate Stage: The cultivator learns to control their Qi flow more efficiently, allowing for multiple afterimages and smoother weight shifts, moving like a flickering shadow. Advanced Stage: With near-perfect Qi control, the user can layer their afterimages, making it seem like they move in opposite directions simultaneously. At this point, they can not only evade strikes but close distances with startling speed, striking from angles the opponent cannot predict.

In essence, Phantom Shadow Steps doesn't simply rely on speed — it distorts an enemy's perception, manipulating both Qi and space to create the illusion of being everywhere at once. True mastery lies not in how fast one moves, but in how seamlessly one merges Qi with motion, becoming a phantom in both body and spirit.

The cave is silent, save for the faint rustle of De-Reece's robes as he moves. He has decided to adopt the robes of the Heavenly Demon he found in the spatial bag. The air feels heavy, dense with an unseen pressure — Qi, the lifeblood of cultivation. It is everywhere, flowing like an invisible current just beyond his grasp. He can feel it, but like trying to catch smoke with bare hands, it eludes him.

He stands at the center of the stone chamber, the "Cultivation Path of The Heavenly Demon" manuscript open before him. Every word from the Heavenly Demon, Cheon Ma Sin Gun, still echoes in his mind:

"Qi does not merely live within you — it seeps into the world around you. To master the Phantom Shadow Steps, you must blur the line between your body and your surroundings."

De-Reece's heart burns with a strange mix of awe and determination. The Heavenly Demon is more than just a figure of power; he is the embodiment of strength tempered by loss. His words are etched into De-Reece's very soul, each one a reminder that to walk this path is to embrace dominance, but also to shoulder the weight of its consequences.

He clenches his fist. This is his first step on that path.

Drawing a slow breath, he gathers his Qi, guiding it from his dantian up to the only node he has opened so far — the point in his shoulder. It is a mistake, he realizes now. The Heavenly Demon made it clear: the foundation of movement techniques lies in opening the leg meridians first, establishing a direct flow of Qi to the limbs responsible for speed and balance.

But De-Reece, in his impatience, has chosen the shoulder point, seduced by the thought of powerful strikes and overwhelming force. Now, as he attempts to channel Qi into his legs, it falters, leaking awkwardly from his shoulder, disrupting his balance.

His first attempt is a disaster.

He pushes off the ground, trying to execute the first form of Phantom Shadow Steps — a simple burst of speed meant to create the illusion of an afterimage. But the Qi, poorly directed, surges unevenly. His right shoulder flares with energy, throwing his momentum off. Instead of a seamless glide, his body jerks sideways, and he tumbles to the ground.

Pain flares through his arm, but it pales in comparison to the frustration bubbling inside him.

"If only I had opened a leg meridian first..." he mutters bitterly. "I was too eager."

But he can't stop now. He won't.

The Heavenly Demon hasn't walked a path of hesitation. He hasn't wept over his mistakes — he carved his way through them.

De-Reece grits his teeth and rises to his feet, the pain in his shoulder a reminder of his arrogance. This isn't about doing it perfectly; it is about moving forward, step by step.

He tries again.

This time, focusing on what little control he has. The Qi surges from his dantian to his shoulder, then bleeds down into his arm. It isn't ideal, but he is forcing himself to adjust, using the momentum to swing his torso forward. His right foot shoots out, awkwardly dragging his left behind it.

A blur.

Not a true afterimage, but a flicker — the faintest ripple in the air where he has just been.

It is clumsy. His shoulder pulls too much, his legs too little. He stumbles to a halt a few feet away, his breathing ragged.

But it is something.

He stares at the spot where the air still seems to shimmer, however briefly. A crude imitation of what the Heavenly Demon had shown him, but an imitation nonetheless.

A fierce smile creeps across De-Reece's face. "I will not disgrace this path."

He is already imagining it — a future where his steps leave nothing but ghostly afterimages, where his enemies strike at shadows while his true self closes in for the kill. The Heavenly Demon had said power did not bow to kindness. De-Reece will master these steps not for mercy, but for domination.

And though his shoulder burns and his Qi flow stutters, his resolve remains steady.

This is only the beginning.

Three days pass.

The cave's silence becomes a familiar companion, broken only by the steady rhythm of De-Reece's movements. Each day, he pushes himself harder, driven by the Heavenly Demon's words and his own gnawing regret at his hasty decision to open the shoulder point first. It is a constant reminder of his impatience, a lesson carved into his very bones.

But he adapts.

Instead of cursing his mistake, De-Reece spends hours refining his Qi control. He learns to guide the energy from his dantian up to his shoulder, then forces it back down along the pathways of his torso, diverting it into his thighs. It isn't perfect—the Qi still refuses to flow freely into his legs, stopping short of his knees—but it is progress.

Today, as he gathers his Qi, the flow feels less erratic. His shoulder still burns with the excess energy, but he no longer lets it throw him off balance. Channeling the Qi into his thighs, he pushes off the ground.

A ripple.

His form blurs, a brief shimmer in the air as he moves—not quite an afterimage, but no longer the clumsy stumbles of before. His steps are sharper, quicker, though still awkward. His legs don't carry him as far as they should, the incomplete Qi flow limiting his speed, but the difference is undeniable.

He is faster.

Breathless, De-Reece stops, his chest heaving but his lips curling into a fierce grin.

"Low mastery..." he whispers, almost in disbelief. It is rough and unrefined, but he has taken a step forward.

The Heavenly Demon's path is brutal and unforgiving. But De-Reece learns that it isn't about moving flawlessly—it is about never stopping.

Yet, his training hasn't been limited to movement alone.

After taking the antidote from one of the vials the Heavenly Demon left behind, De-Reece turns his attention to the other tomes in his possession. One catches his eye: Formations and Arrays.

He learns that formations are constructs tied to the natural attunement of the earth itself. They manipulate the flow of Qi in an area, bending nature's will to create barriers, traps, or enhancements. Arrays, on the other hand, are more artificial, man-made imitations of formations. They require physical objects—flags, talismans, or stones—to anchor the flow of Qi, forcing it to conform to the user's intent.

The logic behind them fascinates him. While he lacks the skill to deploy anything complex, De-Reece now understands how to identify basic formations and the telltale shimmer of an active array.

And then there is the alchemy book.

Buried within its pages, he discovers a method to extract poison from the blue amphibious creature he sealed away in his pouch. The process is meticulous — a careful combination of drawing out the venom and refining it with herbs he'd scrounged from the cave's crevices. After hours of trial and error, he produces a poison potent enough to coat a blade.

Dark, oily, and faintly glowing, the concoction clings to the edge of his dagger, promising death with the lightest cut.

"A step forward in movement, a step forward in knowledge," De-Reece muses, watching the poison shimmer.

And with that, he prepares for the next attempt.

De-Reece moves like a shadow through the underbrush, his mind a storm of tactics and anticipation. Each step is careful, and deliberate—a far cry from the clumsy stumbles of three days prior. He hasn't come this far just to fail.

Pushing aside a curtain of broad leaves, his gaze settles on the clearing ahead. The fruit still hangs there—a golden beacon of power—and beneath it, the snake lies coiled like an obsidian statue, its scales rippling with a faint, dark sheen. Though its eyes remain closed, De-Reece knows better than to assume it is unaware. Predators like this never truly sleep.

He crouches low, steadying his breath. His fingers brush the hilt of his zombie knife, now coated in the poison he extracted from the blue amphibious creature. The venom clings to the blade in a dark, oily film—subtle yet deadly.

"I can't overpower it," he reminds himself. "But I don't have to."

The plan is simple in concept but perilous in execution.

First, he needs to bait the snake into striking. Snakes, especially ones like this, rely on explosive speed—a burst of muscle coiling and uncoiling like a drawn bowstring. If he can force it to strike first, its momentum will leave it momentarily vulnerable. The Heavenly Demon often spoke of using an opponent's strength against them—even a fraction of that wisdom could tip the scales in De-Reece's favor. If it lunges, he can use what little mastery he has of the Phantom Shadow Steps to sidestep the attack—not with the seamless blur of a true master, but with the ragged flicker he's managed to achieve through sheer will. It won't be elegant, but it might be just enough.

Then, once the snake overextends, he will strike its side—not aiming to kill but to wound. The poison will do the rest.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, gathering Qi from his dantian, feeling it rush up to his shoulder and forcing it back down into his thighs. The imbalance is maddening—like pouring a stream uphill—and the Yangwei point in his shoulder throbs with unused energy. Regret gnaws at him. Opening the shoulder node first was a mistake; he should have chosen one in his legs, a foundation for movement. Now, he is stuck trying to redirect a flow never meant to be rerouted—every step feels half-formed, every flicker of speed just shy of true mastery.

The snake shifts.

De-Reece's eyes snap open.

He grabs a small stone from the ground and, with a flick of his wrist, sends it sailing through the air. It strikes a tree trunk a few paces to the snake's left with a sharp crack.

The snake's head whips around instantly, its body uncoiling in a fluid ripple of muscle and scales. Its tongue flicks out, tasting the air, and its eyes—cold and unblinking—search for the source of the disturbance.

Now.

De-Reece shoots forward, channeling his unstable Qi into his thighs. His shoulder flares with unused energy, throwing him slightly off balance, but he adjusts mid-step. His form blurs—not a true afterimage, but a brief shimmer.

The snake reacts with terrifying speed. It lunges, its jaws parting wide enough to swallow his arm whole.

"Too fast!" De-Reece's mind screams, but his body moves before fear can root him in place.

He twists, his Phantom Shadow Steps faltering but pushing him just far enough to the side. He feels the rush of air as the snake's fangs graze the edge of his cloak.

"Sloppy—too much Qi in my shoulder again—"

Off-balance but determined, he drives his zombie knife forward, slicing a thin line across the snake's side.

The cut is shallow—too shallow.

"Not deep enough—damn it—"

But the poison is already at work. The dark oil clings to the serpent's scales, seeping into the wound.

The snake recoils, hissing violently, its tail whipping out and knocking De-Reece backward. He hits the ground hard, skidding across the dirt. Pain flares through his ribs, but he forces himself to roll to his feet.

The serpent thrashes, its movements growing erratic. The poison is slowing it—not enough to kill, but enough to dull its deadly speed.

"This is my chance."

De-Reece surges forward again, his Qi straining through his unbalanced pathways. He forces it into his thighs—a crude mimicry of the true Phantom Shadow Steps—and darts to the side, creating a fleeting blur.

The snake strikes, but too late.

Sidestepping, De-Reece drives his zombie knife deep into the base of its skull. This time, the blade sinks in fully, the venom spreading like a dark thread through the serpent's body.

The snake convulses, its hiss trailing off into a weak rattle. Moments later, it lies still.

De-Reece doesn't move for several heartbeats, his chest heaving. Victory—but at a cost. His Qi flow is chaotic, his shoulder still burning from the imbalance, and his ribs ache from the blow.

But he is alive.

He steps past the snake's corpse, his gaze lifting to the glowing golden fruit. Carefully, he reaches up, his fingers grazing its smooth surface. It pulses faintly, as though alive.

With a firm twist, he plucks it from the branch.

Power—raw, unrefined—seems to thrum within the fruit. The Heavenly Demon's words echo in his mind once more.

"Strength must be earned, not gifted."

De-Reece clenches the fruit tightly. This is another step on his path—another tool in his arsenal.

He slips the fruit into his pouch and begins to retrace his path back to the cave. He stops. "Can't I cook and eat this snake?" he thinks inwardly, only now realizing he hasn't eaten much recently. "If it's a choice between either eating snakes or dying in this weird world, I'm eating snakes." With that, he hoists the snake's massive body up and into his spatial bag, now realizing how thick the snake actually is, a fact forgotten in the heat of battle. His steps are slower now, his body worn from the fight, but his resolve has only hardened.

By the time he returns to the cultivation cave, a storm of Qi rages within him—wild, untamed energy surging through where his dantian would be like a roiling sea. The moment the snake dies, he feels it—a sudden rush, as though the creature's life force has ignited a hidden spark within him. It isn't just a trickle of power—it is an overwhelming flood, pressing against the fragile boundaries of his meridians.

He drops to the ground the instant he enters the cave, his body trembling from the sheer intensity. Sweat beads on his forehead as he forces the Qi down, channeling it away from his already overburdened shoulder and into his legs. The first node—buried deep within his right thigh—feels like a wall of iron. He pushes harder, gritting his teeth, the pain sharp and unforgiving, like molten steel carving through his flesh.

With a final, agonizing burst of will, the node cracks open, sending a shockwave of energy spiraling through his leg. The release is so intense his vision blurs, but there is no time to stop.

The second node—his left thigh—looms before him, unyielding and cold. The excess Qi batters against it, wild and erratic. De-Reece growls under his breath, using every shred of focus to guide the chaotic flow. Minutes drag into what feels like hours, his body screaming in protest, until at last—with a jolt that leaves him gasping—the second node shatters.

Qi pours through his newly opened pathways, flowing freely down both legs for the first time. The balance he's lacked for days is still crude, but for once, the energy no longer feels trapped or misdirected.

Exhausted but triumphant, De-Reece leans back against the cave wall, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He has done it—two leg nodes broken open. The next step on the path of the Heavenly Demon has been taken. The air feels heavier—as though the very walls recognize the shift within him. He places the fruit beside the alchemy tools and the Formations and Arrays book.

Sitting cross-legged, De-Reece closes his eyes and begins to steady his breath.

This is only the beginning.