The sun had barely risen over the jagged peaks when he and her continued along the winding path carved into the mountainside. The air was thin and cold, each breath burning his lungs, yet the sharp clarity of the world around him made him feel more alive than he ever had in his previous life. Every gust of wind, every distant cry of a beast, every flutter of leaves seemed sharper, more significant, as if the world itself was testing him, gauging his readiness.
He still felt weak. His spiritual veins remained fragile, barely carrying a whisper of energy, yet there was a strange steadiness in his mind. Death had taught him patience, and the second chance had taught him determination. He had survived once without the slightest hope of success, and now, even in his crippled state, he knew he could endure.
She walked beside him, quiet for the moment, her eyes scanning the horizon with a practiced alertness. Her presence was grounding, a silent reassurance that he wasn't truly alone in this perilous world. Even without words, she radiated a confidence that demanded respect, a subtle reminder that strength wasn't solely measured by raw cultivation but by the clarity of purpose and the courage to act.
After several hours, they reached a plateau overlooking a valley shrouded in mist. In the distance, jagged spires of stone pierced the clouds, remnants of ancient civilizations, half-ruined sects, and forgotten altars to powers long vanished. The landscape was both beautiful and foreboding—a reminder that this world rewarded boldness but punished recklessness.
He paused, inhaling deeply. The memory of the Heavenly Veil above haunted him still, its distant glow a constant reminder of the gap between mortality and true cultivation. He had no talent, no spiritual affinity, and no guidance beyond the scattered remnants of knowledge from his past life. Yet there was a fire inside him, one born of desperation, curiosity, and a stubborn refusal to be dismissed again.
"Where are we going?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable for a fraction of a second before softening. "There's a hidden valley below," she said. "Few even know it exists. Some say it's cursed, others call it a sanctuary. Either way, it's far enough from the sect that we can train without interference."
"Cursed or sanctuary?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"A little of both," she admitted with a faint smile. "But that's where you'll begin to rebuild yourself. Slowly. Step by step. You need to understand your body before you can even dream of advancing."
The words were simple, almost mundane, yet they carried weight. He nodded. In his previous life, he had sought shortcuts, relying on luck or fleeting bursts of talent. Here, there would be no shortcuts—only methodical, painstaking growth. The thought made his chest tighten, but not with fear. With resolve.
Descending into the valley was treacherous. Narrow paths twisted along sheer cliffs, hidden roots threatened to trip them, and unseen creatures skittered in the shadows. Yet each challenge tested not only his physical endurance but his awareness, his patience, and his ability to stay calm under pressure.
By midday, they reached a grove of ancient trees whose roots coiled around the rocks like sleeping serpents. The air was thick with spiritual energy, faint and flickering, as if the valley itself was testing them. She led him to a flat clearing at the center.
"This will be your base for now," she said, gesturing to the clearing. "The valley's energy is weak, but it's untainted. You'll need to purify your veins and stabilize your spiritual circulation before attempting any breakthrough."
He knelt, instinctively placing his hands on the cold earth. The subtle vibrations beneath his palms were alien yet familiar. Energy hummed faintly, responding to his awareness. He closed his eyes, attempting to sense his own veins, but they were like shattered glass—fragile and splintered.
Hours passed in silence. She observed him quietly, occasionally offering guidance, corrections, or encouragement. Even simple instructions—how to align his breathing with the earth's faint qi, how to visualize energy flowing through fractured meridians—felt monumental in their impact. He faltered countless times, energy slipping away, his body trembling, frustration mounting.
Yet with each failure, he learned. With each misstep, his focus sharpened. The memories of being powerless, overlooked, and broken in his previous life spurred him onward. He refused to let this second chance slip through his fingers.
By evening, sweat dripped down his brow, his robes were soaked, and his muscles ached, but for the first time, he felt a spark. A whisper of circulation in his veins, faint but undeniable, a fragile heartbeat of energy that had once seemed impossible.
She knelt beside him, eyes glinting in the fading light. "You felt it, didn't you?"
He nodded, barely able to speak. "I… I think I did."
"Good," she said softly. "That's the first step. You'll need many more before you can stand beyond the Heavenly Veil, but every journey begins with a single step. Remember that."
He looked up at the sky. The veil still shimmered far above, distant and untouchable, yet it no longer seemed like an insurmountable wall. It was a horizon—challenging, yes, but reachable. And he would reach it.
For the first time, he felt hope. Not naïve hope, but forged from pain, discipline, and the knowledge that this second life was a gift. He would survive, he would grow, and one day, he would stand at the edge of the veil—not as a weakling, not as a failure, but as someone who had truly earned the right to ascend.
"Rest tonight," she said. "Tomorrow, we begin proper training. You won't just rebuild your body—you'll rebuild your understanding of cultivation itself. Step by step, until nothing can stop you."
He nodded, closing his eyes as the first stars of evening began to glimmer. The valley seemed to breathe around him, ancient and patient. And in that quiet, he made a vow.
No matter how long it took. No matter how many times he fell.
He would not be broken again.
He would rise.
And beyond the Heavenly Veil, a new life awaited.