KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Mark, honey, are you up? Dinner!"
…
The door opens as Mark's mother, Grace, steps in the room. As soon as her foot reaches across the doorway, Mark's senses flare to life. He bolts upward and out of the bed with a force not dissimilar to a cat having their tail stepped on.
Landing on the ground in a crouched posture, he hears a screech that has him covering his ears in pain.
"Mark! What the hell is the matter with you? Are you okay?" Grace is flummoxed by her son's sudden springiness.
Every word is like thunder in his ears, until suddenly the world slows, everything clicks into place as his new brain instantly adjusts to the heightened senses. Mark's breath slows as his adrenal glands instantly reign in their production and his cells metabolize the excess adrenaline. His heart rate returns to a steady 25 beats per minute near instantly, his breathing becoming measured and even, but his body still coils with potential energy ready to explode at any given moment.
Time resumes its normal pace as his perception returns to the standard. "Sorry, mom, I, uh, had a nightmare. Made me really jumpy and I just freaked out when you opened the door."
Her face softens and turns into a protective smile, "Are you okay? Wanna talk about it?"
"Nah, I'm all good, I've honestly forgotten it already." He then adds with a toothy grin, "What's for dinner? It smells divine."
"We're having Greek baked chicken, so, get dressed and come out quickly, your father can hardly wait."
With a nod, she closes the door, letting darkness return. Despite that, Mark can see every fine detail as if it was daytime. He picks up his glasses to put them on, but stops mid-motion as the world suddenly turns blurry. Taking them off, clarity returns.
He steps into the bathroom and is shocked by the face in the mirror. Is that… me? Mark's face is obviously the same, but the jaw is sharper, the freckles are gone, the eyes spaced apart just right, it's a near perfect version of himself; so perfect that the uncanny valley effect takes place. The cognitive dissonance between the face he's known his whole life and… this.
The dark room with blackout curtains blocked full perception of Mark's new facial structure, but it'll be hard to explain away a face and body that is now two percent fat and much more handsome than any amount of self care and genetics should have allowed.
Mark had never let himself go, but to say he had an athletic body type would be a stretch too far. He was average in all ways except his height, standing at a solid 6'1". Now, he's shot up to 6'4" alongside a physique like a jaguar; pure lean muscle ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat.
Mark let's out a sigh filled with exhaustion for his future headaches. "I'm gonna have to quit my job or I'll start getting questions that I can't answer without sounding crazy."
Why did no one ever mention this part about physique changes in those novels? People always just seemed to accept it, like the protagonist has a dumbification aura around them.
Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, he appreciates the new abs he didn't have to work for, beyond the inhuman pain of a forced metamorphosis.
Getting dressed, he steps out of his room to a busy kitchen that's finishing the final steps of dinner preparation. "Hey, bud, how was work? It was your Friday, right? Any plans for your week - what the hell?"
Mark was prepared for them to notice something was different. Hell, he'd have been more surprised if they didn't notice something was off, but for the change to be obvious enough that the instant his father laid eyes on him really sold how much different he looks.
Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time in the last twelve hours, he begins telling the craziest story of his life thus far. The food is forgotten as his parents look on in worry that their son has hallucinated a meeting with God. But the undeniable proof of a reforged body, with physical capabilities their son had never had the capacity to accomplish right before their eyes made it hard to disagree with what he told them.
With cold plates of food in front of them, jaws on the floor, and their son doing one armed handstand pushups, they felt their worldview crack and shatter as proof of divine intervention is right before their eyes.
"And you're saying you can give this to us too? We can look like Greek gods at the drop of a hat? Listen, son, I love you, but… you must know how ridiculous this sounds, right?" His father, William, was struggling to retain his world view in the face of evidence of his son's metamorphosis.
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, "For the thousandth time, it's not about looking like a god, it's about the capability to BECOME effectively a god. Look, I need you to trust me and find a way to disappear from the eyes of those around us. When I figure out a way to harness this new energy, we will immediately be working on this together. I can't live forever without you both in my life." He puts on his best pleading face, hoping that they'll take this leap of faith with him.
They turn to each other, confusion, worry, and partial excitement written all over their faces, and look back at Mark. Grace lays her hand over his, "Honey, we trust you, but you need to give us time right now. We're… older now, and we already began accepting our mortality, and now you want to tell us that we can avoid that? We'll talk tomorrow, but for now, we need some time to think."
Mark look dejected for a second, but quickly perked up. I didn't hear a 'no' anywhere. They'll come around. He could accept that having your entire perception of reality challenged would be a lot to take in for people in their late 50s and early 60s.
…
Dinner was reheated and eaten in silence, everyone having a lot of thoughts on their mind. Mark retreated to his room and sat on his bed, crossing his legs in the same way he imagined the cultivators all did.
This is way less comfortable than they'd lead you to believe.
And instantly switched to just laying down and closing his eyes.
How do I even begin?
He then remembers that it often starts with the breath. So, he breathes in for four seconds, holds for four, and exhales for six seconds. He continues the pattern until he feels it.
A wisp of… something, colors the edge of his perception. He follows that trail until he feels a cool sensation become a welcoming warmth unlike any high he's ever experienced. It's like bathing in a perfect river then jumping in a hot spring. I feel clean from all filth while being embraced by the world itself. This… this is Qi.
His breathing remains consistent as he chases that high. Colors indescribable with conventional language paint his world in a cacophony of sensations from all senses working in tandem trying to make sense of the energy invading his body.
During that chase, however, a sensation of fullness and saturation takes over his body. Mark's first interaction with Qi is cut short as it now looks for an outlet. It swirls and circulates through the body until it finally leaves through the pores of the skin.
He opens his eyes, filled with wonder and ecstasy. With a whoop, "HAHA YES! YES! LET'S FUCKING GO!" His celebrations go on for a while until he realizes something…
Wait, aren't I supposed to feel stronger or something? Did I not actually do anything with it and just moved it through my body?
He certainly felt the Qi move, but beyond feeling a little cleaner, there were no other benefits. He just feels a pit of emptiness in his body where the Qi should have been. The realization that he didn't actually retain any of the Qi hits him like a truck. Despair sets in for a moment, but he reigns it in and determination takes its place.
Now that he's captured the feeling, he knows he can figure out a systematic way to truly absorb the Qi and further prepare his body for higher stages, all it'll take is some creativity and willpower to put it to work.
The brainstorming session commences.