The First Step

By the time Chen Yu returned to the village, the sun had long since vanished beyond the mountains. The wind was cold. The lanterns in the distance flickered like fireflies in the dark.

But he didn't look up.

His steps were steady, his face calm, but his heart was anything but.

The Guardian's words still echoed in his mind—carved into his bones like a brand.

"You must temper body, qi, and soul… or all three will fall together."

The legacy sealed inside him pulsed faintly with every heartbeat.

Not a typical qi technique. Not something he could study from a scroll.

It was the True Martial Body—the first step toward a power far beyond anything the villagers could imagine.

Chen Yu had always believed cultivation began with sensing qi. That's what the travelers said. That's what the manuals sold by old merchants claimed.

But what he had now wasn't ordinary. It didn't follow their rules.

His instincts spoke louder than reason.

"Start with the body. Walk the Primordial Body Path."

For days, Chen Yu wandered the village in silence. He didn't speak of the ruins. He didn't boast. He listened—to his body, to the pulse of his blood, to the strange heat building within his flesh.

On the fourth morning, he sat beside the riverbank where he once played as a child. The cold wind swept through the grass. His eyes closed.

And then…

He felt it.

A ripple.

A pulse.

Not from the outside world—but from within.

His body wasn't the same anymore. Something had awakened.

A whisper echoed deep inside him—calm and ancient:

"Refine the flesh. Return to the source."

From that moment on, he began to train.

There were no scrolls. No diagrams. No master.

Only instinct—and pain.

He struck tree trunks until the bark cracked and his knuckles split open.

He carried heavy stones until his arms locked and trembled.

He soaked in the freezing river until his breath turned to steam and his skin went numb.

Every day was pain. Every night was silence.

But still, he continued.

"Endure."

That word returned again and again, burning into his heart.

His fists bled. His back ached. His body screamed.

But he endured.

Weeks passed.

And slowly… the change began.

Scratches no longer broke his skin.

Bruises faded faster than they should have.

His grip, once fragile, now crushed stones the size of a man's skull.

He didn't need anyone to tell him. He could feel it.

He had stepped into the first minor stage: Skin Hardening.

The villagers whispered behind his back. They thought he had gone mad.

But Chen Yu didn't care.

Each breath he took was heavier. Each strike, sharper.

It wasn't just training—it was transformation.

The True Martial Body was reshaping him from the inside out.

He wasn't absorbing qi.

He was absorbing the world itself—the chill of the wind, the resistance of the stone, the pressure of the river. His body remembered it all.

This was not a flashy path. There were no glowing auras. No flying swords.

This was pain.

This was blood.

This was real.

And Chen Yu welcomed it.

He had no clan. No teacher. No cultivation base.

But he had the legacy.

He had his will.