The Beating Heart of Violence

Since the dogs left, Sunny simply sat on the ground and watched.

Watched the others train. Spar. Sweat. And meditate.

His body couldn't move properly. Even breathing felt like dragging razors through his lungs. Hence even the old elder who passed by earlier gave him nothing more than a grunt of disgust.

No one offered help. No one asked questions.

'Looks like this body had no friends,' Sunny mused, eyes half-lidded, hands tucked beneath his sleeves.

He didn't mind. Less mouths to lie to. Less past to live up to.

Hell, he even felt glad, as interacting with familiar people may expose his memory loss or changed personality.

But then again, he had already thought of an excuse, blaming the trauma of his defeat and injuries for the same if someone asked. A little stutter. And a blank stare.

And so from noon to the evening, he just sat there, observing everyone and everything in silence.

From the words and whispers among the crowd when they passed him by, or came to well to fetch water _ Sunny also learned many things.

And piece by piece, the puzzle of this world started taking shape in his mind.

First, this world was probably called the Solarian star, based inside the galaxy of Faintara.

This world has a supernatural energy which floats like an invisible current in the air, called Qi.

And everyone inhales this Qi with every breath. – Which is why the death disease ratio of this world was very low. And even the age limit for a mortal life was high compared to earth.

Those with better physiques or innate talents can also harness this energy to strengthen themselves and turn into cultivators.

Yupp, that's the term, A Cultivator.

Practitioners who take the qi of heaven and store it in their body. Before channeling it via various techniques and methods for otherwise impossible feats.

From the bits and pieces he heard about some old heroes of this world, or some disciple's wild fantasies _ Sunny even learned that if one trained carefully they can fly in the sky. Shatter mountains and destroy rivers with a wave of their hands.

Leave souls out of their bodies, and even teleport millions of miles with a single thought.

Those who reach farther down this path can even live for hundreds or even thousands of years, and maybe even ascend higher and become the so-called immortals.

For a minute after Sunny heard it, there was a constant gleam of fire in his eyes. An urge to achieve that eternity and rule this world too. – but as if noticing his dreams, a passerby just sneered and poured a bucket of cold water on it. Quite literally.

"You have no talent. And your body's broken beyond repair _ so what's with that hungry look, you damned cripple."

Sunny ignored the mockery, and just focused on his words.

And after much contemplation and careful inspection, he too noticed something off about his body.

Cause when he pulled up his shirt, he didn't see the toned muscles or six pack abs he had back on earth – what appeared here was a shriveled mess of a skin. Like that of an elder at the verge of death.

Wrinkles were everywhere. And at some patches, even the skin was torn, and blood oozed slightly.

"Qi collapse."

This is the term the disciples often muttered when they saw his actions. Giving him a general idea based on their words.

According to 'rumors' , a few days ago at some kind of regional competition, his original body was defeated by a disciple from another sect. And all his injuries were a result of the same.

Apparently the opponent threw a heavy hand, which 'Sunny' was unable to defend against. Resulting in a pathetic loss and being crippled.

"So I come back a loser, and instead of healing me, the sect punishes me and throws me into some kind of beast pit. Where I shame myself again, before dying in my sleep."

"That should be it, right?"Sunny muttered, guessing the reason for this body's death, and his reincarnation, or whatever people call it these days.

Truth be told, Sunny didn't give a dime about how his body died. He wasn't a naive fool, who looks up at the sky and promises ghosts about exacting their revenge, or fulfilling their wishes.

Hell if anything, if the original Sunny's soul appeared in front of him now, he'd like to give it two slaps too.

Just because of his weak ass , he was now stuck in this half rotten meatsuit.

"But this world … It really does suit my taste." He muttered with a murderous grin.

The strong rules and the weak gets perished. – Such a star was simply made for the Dragon.

…

Night came crawling over the Nightblade Outer Court.

The sky turned a deep crimson, like drying blood. The wind howled through the training poles, and the stench of sweat, iron, and crushed herbs blanketed the barracks like fog.

Sunny had returned to his 'cave'. A single mat. No pillow. The dirt was more welcoming

He hadn't eaten anything. Making his stomach growl in protest, but hunger had little impact on his mentality.

After all, this wasn't anything new.

As someone who rose from the rags, the number of nights he slept holding his stomach, or biting on his clothes, before finally making it big _ were simply….

"Found you, mongrel."

Sunny was still immersed in his mind, sorting out his thoughts and setting his priorities and guide to survival smoother, when the familiar snarky voice returned.

Sunny turned around.

The scrawny boy was back. This time without his entourage.

Thomas rolled his neck. "I figured I'd get my spirit stones' worth. Your dead ghost caused me quite a loss."

Sunny stood there in silence, remembering that this guy had earlier said that he bet on his death, and lost the money.

"Let me rough you up a little, so the next time I bet, you don't come back."

"And don't worry, everyone's still stuffing their faces in the canteen. So no matter how much you scream, no one will hear you cry." Thomas mocked and cracked his knuckles, getting ready.

Sunny looked at this idiot, and just shook his head. There is a road to heaven, but you don't take it. There is a door to hell, but you break in.

Now that you're here, don't go back.

No talking. No warning.

Sunny just lunged directly.

Seeing this, Thomas just sidestepped with a grin and planted his foot into Sunny's ribs.

Sunny went flying, slamming into the dirt, and coughing blood. Pain exploded through his side.

"Still trash." Thomas muttered. "You should've stayed dead."

Sunny snarled and rushed again.

A palm to the face. A knee to the gut. And he crashed down hard once more.

Thomas knelt over him, yanking his hair. "You know why you're scum? Cause you've got no spirit sense left. No qi. Just a dog's growl and a corpse's breath."

Sunny looked at that arrogant face, and spat blood into the boy's eye and kicked upward between Thomas's legs.

Right in the crown jewels. (SIXERRR)

Thomas instantly howled and doubled over. Rolling on the floor with tears in his bloodshot eyes.

But Sunny didn't hesitate. Didn't gloat, or mock.

Now that the initiative was in his hand, he didn't waste a second.

He tackled Thomas to the ground, pulled the earlier brick from under his mat, placed as a pillow, and brought it down—once, twice, thrice—until the boy stopped screaming , and stopped moving.

Then he found a dull dagger on the boy's belt. And …

Sunny slit his throat.

(Cultivation world. No chances.)

Blood spilled onto the stones. Warm. Metallic. Familiar.

And then—it happened.

A thread of smoke rose from the dead body. Not visible to the naked eye, but clear in Sunny's soul.

The black lotus in his chest quivered again.

Its petals unfolded slightly. Not blooming, but stirring. Like a faint shimmer. A flicker.

Before turning silent once more.

For the first time since waking in this alien world, Sunny stood straighter. Stronger. The pain in his body didn't fade—but it dulled. His vision cleared. And his breath became easier.

Not power. No. Not just yet.

It's a start.

He looked down at the corpse, kicked it aside.

This world doesn't care who I was.

So I'll show them who I'll become.

One corpse at a time.

He glanced at the door and after seeing that no one came to knock yet, he relaxed his nerves a little.

It seems this idiot was right. No one was here in the barracks now.

Sunny wiped his bloodied face and bent down to pick a few essentials from the corpse, snatching everything that looked useful.

Once done, he too lay tired on the ground. On his mat. For a short rest.

Then he turned his face to the side and stared into the cold corpse's eyes.

"Now, what should I do with your body?"

#####

Author note - As I've mentioned, everyone on Solarian star can breath Qi. It's instinctive. Same as us breathing air.

But mortals are those who spent their whole lives breathing it, without ever being able to sense it. Which is where the cultivators start.

Mortal body gets constantly bathed with Qi in the environment. They inhale and exhale it immediately.

But cultivators are those inhale it, store it's essence in their bodies, and then just exhale the turbid masses.

I hope I've made the difference between them clear.