I woke up with the first light of dawn brushing against the paper walls of my room. The cool breeze fluttered the edge of my blanket, and the distant chirping of birds welcomed a new day. Everything was as usual. I bathed, got dressed with the help of Sima Baoxiang, and made my way to the dining hall.
But this morning, something was different.
Mother was seated at the table.
It was rare for her to join us for breakfast. Father sat to her right, quietly sipping his tea. My sister and brother were already eating, their expressions unreadable. I sat down silently and began eating, sensing the tension in the air like a blade hovering over my neck.
Halfway through the meal, Mother broke the silence.
"Rin," she said, her voice calm but sharp. "Do you really want to walk the path of a martial artist?"
I swallowed my food before replying. "Yes. I want to become strong."
She let out a short, cold laugh and leaned forward. "People far from the mountains don't know how high they truly are. But once you reach the base of the mountain, only then will you realize how weak you are... and how far the peak truly lies."
She paused and continued with a smirk. "You don't need to be strong. I will find you the perfect bride—someone strong enough to protect you. That is your role in this world."
I stood up, fists clenched. "Even if the mountain is high and I'm small, one day I'll stand at its peak and make that mountain seem short before me. And as for brides—when I reach the peak, every choice you've made for me will look like ants beneath my feet."
The words escaped before I could stop them. I turned and walked out of the hall, heart pounding. Behind me, I heard her cold voice say to Father, "So this is how you taught your son to speak to his mother."
I stormed toward the training ground, still burning with frustration. When I arrived, Grandpa was already waiting with his usual grin.
"Are you ready for training, Red Tomato?" he chuckled.
My face flushed. "What did you just call me?"
"Red Tomato! Your face is always red when you're angry," he laughed heartily.
I sighed. "Let's just train."
"Alright, today we'll begin practicing the clan's breathing technique," he said, handing me a scroll. But before I could unroll it, I interrupted him.
"Grandpa, yesterday you said there are so many sects and clans. Doesn't that mean there are constant conflicts in Murim? How is everything so quiet and peaceful?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, peaceful may not be the right word. But there's another force that keeps order in the martial world: the Murim Alliance."
"The Murim Alliance?" I asked.
"Yes. Located near the Wudang Sect, it's a union of all orthodox sects. They created a set of laws and traditions to stabilize the martial world. Their goal is to prevent internal bloodshed and root out the influence of demonic sects in the mainland."
I nodded, intrigued.
"The leader of the Murim Alliance," Grandpa added, "is said to be among the ten strongest martial artists in the orthodox world."
I leaned forward. "Then who are the ten strongest?"
Grandpa smirked. "When you reach the Second-Class Warrior level, I'll tell you."
I groaned. "That's unfair!"
He chuckled. "Then get stronger."
He pointed to the scroll. "Now sit. Breathe. Focus."
I sat on the training ground floor, legs folded, and opened the scroll. The instructions were written in old calligraphy, but I could read them thanks to my prior studies. I followed the breathing steps exactly as written and slowly closed my eyes.
Darkness.
Then emptiness.
It was like floating in a void, a space without time or sound. And then—a flicker of light. A tiny speck drifting toward me.
I watched, mesmerized, as the light entered my body. I followed its path deep into my abdomen. It glowed, pulsing faintly. I reached out mentally, trying to merge with it. Suddenly, a wave of energy surged through me. A force so intense, I gasped.
My eyes flew open. I was drenched in sweat. My clothes stuck to my skin, soaked through. It was night. How long had I been meditating?
A warm hand rested on my back.
"It's okay," Grandpa said softly. "You did well. In your first try, you've reached half a step into the Third-Class Warrior realm."
I blinked in disbelief. "Then why did you wake me up?"
"Because you were pushing too far. If you'd gone any further, your body might have collapsed under the strain. Cultivation isn't just about speed—it's about control. Build your foundation strong. Don't rush."
I nodded.
"Now, go take a bath, eat something, and rest," he said.
As we walked back toward the manor, an oppressive aura met us near the entrance.
Grandmother.
She stood still, arms crossed, her eyes sharp as blades.
"So, Rin," she said slowly, "you've already begun practicing martial arts."
I felt her gaze pierce through me.
Then she stepped forward and handed me a small token. "Go with your grandfather to the treasury tomorrow. Pick one elixir."
"At least say it with a smile," I muttered under my breath.
"I heard that," she said without turning back.
I turned to Grandpa and said with determination, "I'll reach Third-Class Warrior tomorrow."
He chuckled and walked off another path.
That's when Father appeared.
He was furious.
"Oh? I didn't know the Sima Clan allows beggars into the manor," he said sharply.
"What beggar?" I asked, confused.
"This little beggar," he said, pinching my nose, "who stinks like a pig wallowing in the mud."
He dragged me to the bathhouse.
"This is how the Second Young Master of the Sima Clan should present himself," he lectured while scrubbing me clean.
After the long, humiliating bath and an awkward dinner, I finally collapsed into bed.
As I stared at the wooden ceiling above, I whispered to myself, "This time, I will reach the pinnacle I couldn't in my last life. No matter what."