Kaiser sat alone in the back of the alley, eyes narrowed as he stared at the flickering flames of his meager campfire. The cold night air wrapped itself around him, but it was the loneliness and frustration gnawing at his insides that chilled him deeper than any weather ever could. He had been here for months now, in this filthy, nameless city full of beggars and desperate souls just trying to scrape by.
It had become his new normal. The stench of the streets, the cries of hunger, the constant weight of being nothing but a shadow in a world that didn't care. This world—the one he'd been dragged into after that disastrous encounter with the Li family—was nothing like what he'd imagined. No grand quests. No shining hope. Just survival.
The broken seed within him, his so-called "spirit root," had shown him only pain. A trickle of energy was all he could muster, and even that was unreliable, fleeting. He'd tried every cultivation method he could get his hands on, every technique his fractured manual offered. Nothing worked. Not in this body. Not with this cursed, broken root.
He clenched his fists, feeling the dull throb of his hands. The energy he had once tried to guide now felt like something that belonged to someone else. His spirit root was a crippled mess, and no amount of effort could fix it. He had tried, oh, how he had tried.
"Damn it," Kaiser muttered under his breath, slapping his hands against his knees, feeling the grime that clung to his clothes. His once-pristine attire was now a tangled mess of dirt, rags, and the lingering scent of decay. A beggar's life suited him, but not in the way he had hoped. His spirit root throbbed in his chest, an empty, hollow beat. It was an anchor he couldn't escape.
But there were days when, after exhausting himself with a day of begging or hunting down scraps, he would retreat into the tiny shack he had rented in the poorer quarters of the city and sit down to study.
He picked up a small piece of paper. The ink was smudged, faded from too many repeated readings. It was his last remaining resource: the cultivation manual. At first, he had studied it eagerly, hoping that something would click, that his efforts would amount to something, but now… now it just felt like a dead weight in his hands.
He threw it aside in disgust.
"What good is a spirit root if it's broken beyond repair? What good is it when it causes more harm than benefit?" he muttered bitterly to himself. He could feel his frustration rise again, the familiar surge of anger that bubbled beneath the surface. "How am I supposed to make this work? I can't do anything in this damned body!"
He had been practicing his telekinesis for months—moving rocks, pebbles, sticks—but no matter how much effort he put into it, his progress was always the same. A few inches of lift, a few seconds of concentration, and then the energy would collapse, as if it had a mind of its own. He knew his telekinesis wasn't like what he'd read about in novels—those flashy, world-shattering abilities—but surely, it could be something more than this weak, flickering flame.
The cold winds outside had shifted, rattling the small window of his room, and for a moment, Kaiser allowed himself a brief moment of escape from his frustrations. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like if he could just—if he could—
If I could return home.
The thought came unbidden. It had always been a half-buried desire. Kaiser had long ago given up on the idea of returning to his own world. He had read enough transmigration novels to know that most of the time, the return journey was nothing more than a plot device. It was a fantasy, something he had believed in once, but now? It felt like a cruel joke. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.
"I'm trapped in this shitty world," he whispered to himself, standing up and pacing the room. "There's no going back. I've seen too many of those novels to know it never happens. Once you're here, you're stuck. End of story."
He was so sure of it. He had no illusions left. He had no allies, no connections, nothing to give him hope that he could ever return. His life was just another throwaway story, one of countless other lowborn souls trapped in a world that was never meant to be kind to them.
But, in that moment, as the night deepened and the world outside settled into an eerie quiet, something shifted. Kaiser's thoughts went back to the broken seed, to the unstable spirit root inside his body. It had been giving him nothing but pain. But then, just maybe, something clicked. His mind began to spin, turning over possibilities like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
The days of wandering, of surviving on scraps, of aimlessly practicing with little result—they had taught him something. He wasn't just fighting against his broken root. He was fighting against the very nature of this world, against the system that had trapped him. But what if the answer wasn't to try and fight it head-on? What if, instead, he adapted?
Kaiser's eyes widened as he felt the seed pulse again, faintly, like the tiniest ember of a flame trying to ignite. The frustration welled up in him, but this time, it felt different. The flicker in his chest felt… alive. His hand instinctively reached for the map he had been using to navigate the city's back alleys and the nearby countryside. He had never planned on staying in the city forever. He had always intended to leave. But the seed, the root, the life he had now—maybe it was time to take the next step.
Kaiser gritted his teeth and moved to his feet. He had no time to waste on regrets. No time to dwell on the past. If he was going to survive in this world, if he was going to improve, if he was going to return to the life he had once known—he would need to move forward.
The plan formed in his mind.
"I'll leave," he muttered to himself. "I'll leave this city behind. I'll find a way to fit in, to learn more about cultivation, to understand how to use this broken seed, and most importantly, I'll find a way back."
His heart raced. The small embers of determination were finally catching fire.
"I won't be stuck here forever. Not like this."
The next day, Kaiser set out early. He had made preparations for his departure from the beggar's life. He had everything he needed—his map, a crude weapon he had crafted, and a deep-seated resolve to improve his situation. He had spent the last three days watching the nearby markets, studying how people of different walks of life interacted. Beggars, merchants, even the occasional noble who passed by. If he wanted to learn, if he wanted to thrive in this new world, he would need to play it smart.
And so he did.
Days turned into weeks as Kaiser settled into his new rhythm. He worked on his telekinesis, trying to make it more stable. It wasn't much, but the energy felt more tangible now, more consistent. It was something, at least.
As he journeyed further, he realized that his mind was sharp again, his focus clearer. He wasn't just surviving anymore. He was planning.
And though he had once given up on the idea of returning to his original world, he had a glimmer of hope now. The seed, the spirit root—perhaps there was a way to return. Perhaps it wasn't just a myth after all.
One night, as Kaiser lay under the stars, staring up at the sky, his thoughts drifted back to the world he had left behind. The feeling that he could somehow, someday, return wasn't as far-fetched as it had once seemed.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself dream again.