Fists Against Fate
The flame lingered.
Even after sleep, it simmered low in Xian Ren's chest, as if it had burned its mark onto his very soul. It was subtle now—not wild or consuming—but present. Alive.
He sat in the same collapsed barn as before, its rafters broken, its roof leaking daylight and dust. His hand clenched and opened slowly, again and again. Every time he did, a faint warmth pulsed in the center of his palm.
His first flame vein was real.
And so was the Ember Vein System.
> [Flame Vein: 1 awakened]
[Passive Trait: Inner Ember active — minor body warmth, low Qi generation]
[Next Quest: Awaken 10 Flame Veins.]
[Optional Challenge: Defeat a cultivator with 5 or more active veins. Reward: ???]
"One flame," Xian Ren muttered. "One down. Nine to go."
He rose slowly, muscles groaning in protest. The pain was still there. The bruises from Xian Wu's last beating had turned a deep blue. But this time, he didn't feel helpless.
He felt purpose.
He had a path now. A goal. A system.
And maybe for the first time since opening his eyes in this world, he felt alive.
---
Xian Ren stepped outside into the crisp morning light of the Xian Clan outer grounds. His breath fogged lightly in the cold air as he moved down the beaten trail toward the training yard, where outer disciples practiced forms under the watch of bored elders.
No one looked at him.
No one expected anything from him.
The perfect cover.
He stood at the edge of the training field, off to the side—just close enough to hear the instructors barking commands, far enough to avoid notice.
He watched.
How they moved. How they breathed.
How they channeled Qi.
He could see it now. The faint shimmer of energy moving along their arms as they punched, the warmth of inner fire trailing behind their kicks. His one flame vein let him feel something new—the flow of power, faint and fragile, but real.
It reminded him of street fights back on Earth. You didn't need ten years of forms to learn how to punch someone's lights out. What mattered was timing, instinct, and will.
He'd survived knife fights, ambushes, drug wars. These boys? They'd grown up in robes and sand gardens.
And now they thought he was trash?
Let them laugh.
Let them look down.
He would rise.
---
> [Crimson Fist Technique — Level 1]
Stance: Unstable
Form: Basic flame channeling through arm tendons and bones.
Strike: Explosive forward force with minor flame Qi ignition.
Effect: 3% internal flame burn chance (resisted by high Qi cultivators).
---
He practiced in silence. No roar. No declarations. Just repetition.
Fist forward. Elbow tight. Weight shifting from back foot.
The flame pulsed each time. Weak—but growing.
His knuckles cracked. His arms screamed.
The pain only meant it was working.
---
Hours passed.
When the sun began to fall, and the other disciples left the yard, Xian Wu appeared.
Of course.
He walked in flanked by two cousins, both with smug faces and silk-sleeved robes. His chest was still bruised where Xian Ren had struck him the day before.
"Still playing cultivator, cousin?" Wu sneered. "You landed one lucky punch and think you've changed fate?"
Xian Ren straightened, sweat glistening on his skin, his breathing steady.
"I don't believe in fate," he said flatly.
"Oh? Then let's test your belief."
Wu gestured to his cousin.
A burlier youth stepped forward. "Xian Jiao. Five veins. Let's see what your trash body can do."
Xian Jiao cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Five active veins pulsed along his forearms, each one glowing faintly with internal Qi.
In the clan's hierarchy, five veins made him respectable. Enough to bully, enough to suppress.
Especially someone with just one.
But Xian Ren wasn't looking at Jiao's strength.
He was feeling his own.
The flame still burned inside his chest. Coiled and waiting.
---
> [Optional Challenge Triggered: Battle opponent with 5 active veins.]
Success: ???
Failure: System penalty - cooldown of inner flame.
---
Xian Ren exhaled, grounding his back foot, his body loose.
He didn't wait.
He launched forward, like a street fighter lunging in an alley — direct, fast, and brutal. No technique. Just momentum.
Jiao sneered, sidestepping and swinging a wide Qi-powered palm.
But Xian Ren dropped low under it, pivoted, and—
BOOM.
Crimson light flashed as his fist struck Jiao's ribs.
The impact wasn't clean. Not like the punch that had floored Xian Wu. But it landed.
Jiao stumbled, eyes wide, Qi flaring around his torso.
"You… actually hit—"
Another punch.
Then another.
And this time, the flame pulsed with them.
A hiss of steam rose from Xian Ren's forearms as the Crimson Fist triggered again, the heat intensifying.
His body burned.
His veins sang.
His rage surged.
---
Xian Jiao roared, recovering, and lunged back with a burst of raw Qi—his palm glowing green.
A tiered body technique. Mid-grade.
Xian Ren barely twisted aside in time. The air exploded beside him.
The clan courtyard shook. Dust spiraled up.
They clashed again—Qi versus flame. Five veins versus one.
But the difference?
Xian Ren didn't fight with pride.
He fought like a wolf backed into a corner.
---
He won.
Barely.
Jiao collapsed to his knees, his robe burned, his chest scorched.
The onlookers—disciples, guards, even two junior elders—stared in stunned silence.
Trash didn't win fights.
Trash didn't bleed cultivators.
And yet… there stood Xian Ren.
Chest heaving. Fists steaming. One flame vein burning in his heart.
Alive. Victorious.
---
> [Challenge Complete.]
System Reward Unlocked:
→ Trait: Flame Nerves (minor resistance to heat pain)
→ Skill Upgrade: Crimson Fist Lv. 2 – Form refinement unlocked
→ Bonus: Vein Resonance +1]
---
He didn't smile.
He just turned and walked away.
Let them think whatever they wanted.
He didn't fight for recognition.
He fought because this world tried to bury him alive.
Now it would learn—flame spreads through dry wood.
And he was just getting started.