The world of the Azure Province was a symphony of sensory data that felt dangerously close to the reality Si-woo had once known. The sun was a warm weight on his shoulders, and the ground beneath his feet was uneven, textured with the roots of the ancient bamboo that surrounded the village.
To any other player, this was a high-fidelity starting zone. To the soul of Li Wei, it was a chaotic, unrefined pond of energy.
Si-woo walked slowly, savoring the sensation of his weight shifting from heel to toe. In the real world, his legs were withered, but here, they were tools of balance. He ignored the glowing tutorial windows that tried to flicker in the corner of his vision. He didn't need a system to tell him how to walk; he needed to understand the rules of this particular heaven.
As he reached the center of Fallen Leaf Village, he saw dozens of players. They were dressed in the same basic hemp tunics, but they moved with a jarring, frantic energy. Some were swinging wooden practice swords at straw dummies with mindless repetition; others were pestering the villagers, their voices loud and demanding as they looked for "quest markers."
Si-woo turned away from the crowd. He approached a small, moss-covered shrine at the edge of the grove. An old man sat there, his back leaned against a stone lantern. He wasn't a "Merchant" or a "Guard." He was simply a man watching the clouds.
"The air is thick today, Elder," Si-woo said, stopping a respectful distance away.
The old man didn't look up, but his fingers, gnarled like tree roots, paused their rhythmic tapping on his knee. "The air is always thick for those who try to swallow it whole. The youngsters these days... they want to be masters before they even know how to sit."
"They chase the shadow and miss the light," Si-woo agreed.
The old man finally opened his eyes. They were grey and clouded with age, but they seemed to pierce through Si-woo's digital skin. "You... you don't breathe like the others. Their breath stays in their throats, shallow and panicked. Yours goes deep, down into the earth."
"I am remembering an old rhythm," Si-woo replied.
"Then remember it well," the old man grunted, closing his eyes again. "The bamboo doesn't grow by wishing for the sky. It grows by pushing against the dirt."
Si-woo bowed and walked into the heart of the bamboo grove, far from the noise of the players. He found a flat stone near a trickling stream and sat. He didn't look for a "Meditate" skill in a menu. He simply closed his eyes and began the Celestial Void Breath—the core technique of the Golden Immortal.
In the real world, in the dark Busan basement, something miraculous began to happen.
The Aether-Link headset, cracked and held together by tape, began to hum at a frequency it was never designed to reach. The neural interface, which usually only transmitted visual and auditory signals, began to act as a bridge for something much more potent.
As Si-woo drew in the "digital" essence of the bamboo grove, his physical body reacted. His heart rate slowed to a deep, resonant thrum. The microscopic beads of frost on his skin began to melt as a faint, internal heat radiated from his lower back. The nerves in his spine, dormant and crushed, twitched with a ghostly spark of electricity.
Back in the game, the bamboo grove began to react to his presence. The leaves didn't just rustle; they began to glow with a faint, silver light. The energy of the area wasn't being "farmed"—it was being ordered.
[Warning: Physical Body Stress Detected.]
[Neural Sync reaching 115%...]
[System Note: User is utilizing an undocumented 'Breathing' mechanic.]
Si-woo ignored the warnings. He felt the first thread of Qi—no larger than a strand of silk—form in his lower dantian. It was fragile, but it was pure.
The silence of the grove was shattered by a high-pitched scream.
Si-woo's eyes snapped open. The silver glow vanished instantly, and the world returned to its standard colors. He stood up, his movements silent and fluid. He followed the sound to a clearing where a young girl was backed against a tree.
She was a villager, her simple clothes stained with green herbal juices. Three players stood before her, their names—Bully1, Bully2, and GigaKilla—hovering above their heads. They were Level 5, armed with iron daggers and wearing light leather vests.
"Come on, little NPC," GigaKilla sneered, his voice distorted by his low-quality microphone. "Just tell us where the 'Golden Herb' spawns. We know you have the hidden quest."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" the girl cried, her eyes full of a terror that was far too complex for a simple script. "Please, let me go! My grandfather is waiting!"
"Don't lie to us," Bully1 said, reaching for her basket. "We've been grinding boars for six hours. We aren't leaving until we get a rare drop."
Si-woo stepped into the clearing. He didn't have a weapon. He didn't have armor. He looked like a beggar compared to the Level 5 players.
"Your breath is ragged," Si-woo said, his voice cutting through the tension like a cold blade. "And your intent is foul."
The three players spun around, laughing when they saw a Level 1 "newbie" standing there.
"Beat it, kid," GigaKilla said, pointing his dagger at Si-woo. "This is a private zone. Go back to the village and kill some chickens."
Si-woo didn't move. He watched the way GigaKilla held the dagger—too tight, white-knuckled, relying on the "System" to guide his strike. He saw the gap in the man's stance, the way his weight was tilted too far forward.
"You are playing a game," Si-woo said, stepping forward. "I am walking a path. There is a difference."
"Get him," GigaKilla barked.
Bully1 lunged forward, his iron dagger glowing with the faint blue light of a "Power Strike" skill. To a normal Level 1 player, the move would be a blur. To Si-woo, it was agonizingly slow. He didn't even draw his own rusty dagger. He simply tilted his head, letting the blade whistle past his ear, and tapped the player's wrist with two fingers.
It wasn't a punch. It was a disruption.
Bully1 let out a strangled yelp as his arm went numb, the "Power Strike" energy backfiring into his own limb. He stumbled, his face hitting the dirt.
"What the—?" GigaKilla stared at his fallen friend. "What skill was that? You're only Level 1!"
"I don't need a skill to show you the ground," Si-woo said, his golden eyes narrowing. "Now, apologize to the girl and leave, before I decide to be less gentle."