Chapter 2: A Small Epiphany

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At dawn, as wisps of cooking smoke rose into the air, Wooden Fish Island gradually stirred to life. Some people cursed in the streets, others laughed and played. Though this was a den of bandits, not all who lived here were cutthroat thieves; there were also women and children. In many ways, it was not so different from a small, isolated village.

At this moment, within a small courtyard, Jiang Chen finally emerged from the secret chamber beneath the ground after a night of tidying up, and pushed open the door.

The hardest part of killing has always been disposing of the body. Yet the death of Jiang Wang, his predecessor, was rather peculiar. Now that he occupied Jiang Wang’s body, he no longer needed to worry about hiding the corpse. With Jiang Wang’s memories now his own, he need not fear being discovered—after all, this was but a bandit’s lair, not the sacred grounds of some great immortal sect.

“It truly is different now.”

Stepping out into the pale morning light, with curling smoke and the sounds of shouting and laughter filling his senses, Jiang Chen found himself momentarily lost in thought. To be honest, the sky was still dim, overcast, and a chilly wind swept through the halls—hardly a scene one would call beautiful.

Yet even such an ordinary scene left Jiang Chen dazed, for it had been a long time since he had witnessed anything so mundane. In the world after the apocalypse, everything had been overturned: the sky was forever shrouded in gloom, the grass and trees withered, life faded away, and the air was always thick with an indescribable stench.

But here, in this alien world, in this den of river bandits, he saw traces of life he had long yearned for. In the warmth of daily existence, his cold heart felt a long-lost tremor.

“This truly is a brand new world.”

He walked slowly into the courtyard and stood beneath a towering peach tree. Jiang Chen reached out to touch its trunk; the rough texture and vigorous life pulsing within told him all of this was real.

In that instant, it was as if a clear spring watered his withered heart, gradually restoring its vitality. His spirit, taking advantage of this moment, merged with the peach tree before him, and then extended outward, blending into every inch of the courtyard’s small world.

And then, in that single moment, Jiang Chen saw faint threads of energy weaving through the world, each of a different nature. Most lay dormant, but a precious few were lively. The instant he saw these lively strands, an understanding dawned within him—this was the spiritual energy often mentioned in Jiang Wang’s memories, the very foundation of cultivation in this realm.

“Those who consume spiritual energy shall never die, and live forever.”

His soul immersed in heaven and earth, Jiang Chen lost himself in the flow, and almost by instinct, began to practice a set of palm techniques.

His movements were like willow catkins, drifting with the wind, effortless and free. At first, his stance was slow, each move methodical, even showing a hint of awkwardness. But as time passed, his form grew more indistinct, as if he had never moved at all, yet was everywhere at once, filling every corner of the courtyard.

At the same time, as if drawn by some unseen force, the lively spiritual energy of heaven and earth began to gather around him, washing over his body. In that instant, the bottleneck that had trapped Jiang Wang and kept him from advancing was silently breached, as if it had never existed.

Time slipped by; who knew how long had passed before Jiang Chen’s blurred figure coalesced once more and his consciousness returned to himself.

“So this is cultivation!”

Feeling the changes within him, Jiang Chen closed his fingers into a fist and struck out casually. The next moment, his palm force landed at a distance, and a peach branch as thick as a baby’s arm snapped cleanly and fell to the ground.

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Witnessing this scene, Jiang Chen looked at his own hand in contemplation.

“Striking through the air with force reaching ten feet—according to the standards of martial artists in this world, I can barely be considered a first-class expert. Once I finish tempering my body completely, I’ll be among the best. If I take it further and refine my head, then mere martial artists will no longer be my match.”

Comparing with Jiang Wang’s memories, Jiang Chen now had a rough understanding of his body’s strength. Of course, this only considered his immortal cultivation; if he added his supernatural abilities, his power would be even greater.

“Cultivation seems less difficult than I imagined.”

Feeling the spiritual energy within, Jiang Chen smiled as he looked at his newly tempered body.

The essence of spiritual resonance cultivation lay in sensing and drawing spiritual energy, through both still and active methods. Still cultivation meant sitting in meditation to calm the mind, which was relatively easy. Active cultivation involved practicing specific body-tempering techniques to draw energy from the world, which was more efficient but also more demanding, requiring a deeply tranquil heart. If one could not achieve this, no amount of practice would yield results, and the effects would be less than those of still cultivation.

Jiang Wang, for example, had mastered the Willow Catkin Body-Tempering Technique, but ultimately focused on still cultivation.

“For the beings of this world, the spiritual aperture is the key to stepping onto the path of cultivation. Only those with a spiritual aperture can sense spiritual energy, draw it into their bodies, and refine it into true energy and magical power. The aperture ranges from one to nine inches; one inch is the weakest and senses the energy faintly, while nine inches is the highest—a natural spirit medium who can absorb energy even without practice.”

“Jiang Wang was born with a five-inch aperture. Not outstanding, but not bad either—above average. The main reason he struggled to break through was his restless mind. Of course, there was also the crucial factor that the spiritual energy here is simply too sparse.”

“I, however, am different. Though the aperture is the same, my heart has been tempered by the apocalypse. I can’t claim transcendence, but I am certainly stronger than most. Most importantly, I have the blessing of a soul-based ability—my soul far surpasses that of ordinary people, something Jiang Wang could only dream of.”

“In truth, a naturally powerful soul is indeed beneficial for cultivation.”

As these thoughts flickered through his mind, Jiang Chen used Jiang Wang’s example to sort out his understanding.

Just then, he sensed something and collected his thoughts, turning his gaze toward the gate.

The next moment, a youth of about five feet tall, thin and clad in gray, who looked to be seventeen or eighteen, appeared at the entrance.

“Chief, I’ve brought today’s breakfast.”

Carrying a lunchbox, the youth knocked at the gate.

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Hearing the voice, Jiang Chen immediately knew the boy’s identity. This was Stone, one of Jiang Wang’s underlings. Because of his steady nature, Jiang Wang had favored him, keeping him close to handle daily affairs.

“Come in,” Jiang Chen said after a moment’s thought, sweeping his sleeve to open the gate.

As he entered, Stone glanced at Jiang Chen, who still stood at the center of the courtyard, and a flash of surprise crossed his heart, though his face remained unchanged.

“Chief, here’s your breakfast,” he said respectfully, walking to the peach tree, opening the lunchbox, and setting out a meat dish, a vegetable, a soup, and a plate of buns on the stone table beneath the tree.

Jiang Chen’s expression remained unchanged—he knew this was Jiang Wang’s habit; he liked to have breakfast under the peach tree.

After everything was arranged, Stone looked at Jiang Chen again. It was the first time he had clearly seen the chief’s face since entering the courtyard. The face was the same, yet there was something different about it, something he could not quite define. Especially the eyes—they seemed to hide something profound, and just one glance made him feel an almost instinctive pressure.

“Chief, the white deer you were searching for has been found,” Stone reported, bowing his head quickly.

Jiang Chen’s brow rose slightly. “Found already? That’s quicker than I expected. Very well, you may go.”

Hearing this, Stone withdrew without another word. As he gently closed the gate behind him, he could not help but exhale a long, heavy breath.

“It seems the chief’s martial skills have improved again.”

Glancing back at the courtyard through the closed gate, a strange thought surfaced in Stone’s mind.

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