I woke to sirens and pain.
Not the clean pain of training.
Not the satisfying ache that came after breaking through a difficult cycle.
This was sharp.
Ugly.
A bite in my side that made my breath catch before I even understood where I was.
I opened my eyes.
Rain fell against my face.
The ground beneath me was hard and uneven.
Cold.
I pushed one hand against it and tried to sit up.
My body answered.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Pain spread through my ribs.
My side burned.
My knees slipped against the wet ground before I caught myself.
I tasted blood.
Warm.
Metallic.
I looked down.
Dark stains spread across my clothes.
For one brief moment, panic rose.
I crushed it.
Not now.
I took a breath.
Then another.
Where am I?
I looked around.
The sky was flat and gray.
Buildings towered above me, made of glass and stone, stretching higher than some of the mountains I had trained beneath.
But they weren't mountains.
They had no trees.
No rivers.
No life.
Just windows.
Thousands of them.
A strange thought crossed my mind.
Someone had built a mountain and forgotten to make it beautiful.
Something roared past me.
I turned.
A metal beast sped down the road.
Four wheels.
Glass windows.
Bright lights.
Another followed it.
Then another.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
They moved in organized streams, their engines filling the street with a constant mechanical rumble.
I stared.
Metal beasts.
No.
Not beasts.
They were too obedient.
People walked along the sides of the road, most of them staring down at small glowing rectangles in their hands.
Artifacts.
My first thought was immediate.
Then I stopped.
No spiritual fluctuations.
No inscriptions.
No Qi.
Whatever these things were, they were not artifacts.
A man hurried past me without even looking up.
A woman followed.
Then a child.
Nobody seemed particularly surprised by the machines.
They were ordinary here.
That realization unsettled me more than the machines themselves.
I reached inward.
By habit.
Qi.
Nothing.
I tried again.
Slower.
Nothing.
The familiar current that had accompanied every breath of my life was simply...
gone.
My fingers curled.
I searched deeper.
The dantian was still there.
The meridians were there.
My body was there.
But the river that had always flowed through them was empty.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Not because of my ribs.
Because there was nothing inside me.
No Qi.
No pressure.
No warmth.
Nothing waiting beneath my skin.
I hated it.
The feeling passed almost as quickly as it came.
Later.
I could feel sorry for myself later.
Right now, I was alive.
That mattered more.
A metal beast screamed past me.
Its lights washed over the road.
I staggered upright.
Pain followed.
I ignored it.
One step.
Then another.
My body felt heavier than it should have.
Still, it worked.
I had survived worse.
Cold floors.
Empty stomachs.
Broken sleep.
Hands that struck without warning.
This was different.
But different didn't mean impossible.
I kept walking.
A few people noticed me.
Then more.
Someone shouted.
Another person came running.
"Are you okay?"
I stopped.
The words meant nothing.
I stared at him.
The sounds were familiar in the way human speech was familiar, but the meaning slipped past me.
Another person spoke.
Then another.
Their voices blurred together.
What language is this?
Someone pulled out one of the glowing rectangles.
It flashed.
The world tilted.
Then everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling was white.
Too white.
Flat lights covered it in neat rows.
They were brighter than candles but gave off none of the warmth.
I stared at them.
No oil lamps.
No spirit candles.
No flickering flame.
Just light.
Constant.
Perfect.
I turned my head.
A machine beside the bed beeped at regular intervals.
Green lines moved across its screen.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
A clear tube disappeared into my arm.
I followed it with my eyes.
Fluid dripped through it.
One drop.
Another.
Another.
I didn't like the arrangement.
I tried to move.
Pain immediately reminded me why I was lying down.
"Whoa."
Someone pressed a hand against my shoulder.
"Easy. Easy."
Two people stood beside the bed.
Light blue clothes.
Thin gloves.
No spiritual pressure.
No hidden cultivation.
No incense.
No ritual.
Just people.
The taller one leaned closer.
"Can you hear me?"
I understood nothing.
He looked at the other man.
Then back at me.
"Are you okay?"
Still nothing.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then I said the first thing that came to mind.
"这里是哪里?"
The room became very quiet.
The taller man's eyebrows rose.
"Did he just—"
He looked at his colleague.
"Was that Chinese?"
The other man nodded.
They exchanged a glance.
Then the taller one pulled out a glowing rectangle.
Another artifact.
No.
Probably not.
He tapped the screen.
Chinese characters appeared.
你能听懂吗?
I stared.
Chinese.
I nodded.
Relief appeared on his face.
He said something into the device.
The machine thought for a moment.
Then answered in awkward Chinese.
"你发生了交通事故.你在医院.你安全."
Traffic accident.
Hospital.
Safe.
I let the words settle.
Traffic accident.
Hospital.
Safe.
I looked around again.
The room was smooth and sterile.
There were no mountains outside the window.
No sect banners.
No spirit beasts circling the sky.
Only another building made of glass.
I stared at it.
"Damn..."
The word came out before I could stop it.
The doctors exchanged another glance.
The machine buzzed.
你记得发生什么了吗?
Do you remember what happened?
I remembered.
Rain.
Stone.
Four men.
Blood.
My hand pointing at the sky.
Lightning.
Then—
Nothing.
I looked at the ceiling.
And shook my head.
"No."
It was easier than explaining.
The taller man said something.
The machine translated.
"Possible concussion."
I didn't know what a concussion was.
I decided I would learn later.
He asked for my name.
That stopped me.
For a moment, silence felt safer.
Then I realized that saying nothing would create its own problems.
"I don't know."
The machine repeated it in its flat voice.
The two doctors looked at each other.
Then they started typing.
Screens lit up.
Numbers appeared.
Charts.
Words I couldn't read.
It was strangely familiar.
Not because I understood it.
Because people everywhere seemed to become more confident when they had enough information in front of them.
I looked at my surroundings.
Then reached outward with my senses.
Nothing.
No spiritual traces.
No formations.
No hidden presence.
No Qi.
The world felt empty.
Not dead.
Just...
Dry.
The taller doctor showed me the screen again.
He spoke.
The machine translated.
"你在纽约.美国."
New York.
United States.
I repeated the words silently.
New York.
America.
Neither meant much yet.
I looked through the window.
Glass.
Steel.
Rain.
Cars.
People.
Everything was real.
This wasn't an illusion.
At least, if it was, it was an impressive one.
A strange sensation appeared in my chest.
Fear was still there.
But something else was pushing against it.
Curiosity.
I looked back at the doctor.
Then at the machines around me.
This world had no Qi.
Fine.
Then what did it have?
I thought for a moment.
Then asked:
"Maximum..."
"Punch force."
Both doctors stared at me.
I pointed at my fist.
"Human."
The translator beeped.
The shorter doctor blinked.
Then frowned.
He tapped something into his tablet.
A graph appeared.
Numbers.
Units.
Ranges.
I leaned closer.
A video played.
A man punched a heavy bag.
The bag swung violently backward.
Another video.
Another measurement.
I watched.
The units meant little to me.
The numbers meant more.
Human bodies here had limits.
They measured them.
Tested them.
Recorded them.
That was interesting.
Very interesting.
I watched another clip.
Then another.
The corner of my mouth moved.
Barely.
The doctor probably thought I was feeling better.
He was wrong.
For the first time since waking up, I felt something close to excitement.
If this world had limits—
Then those limits could be tested.
Maybe even broken.
I stopped myself.
Too soon.
I didn't know the language.
I didn't know the laws.
I didn't know where I was sleeping tonight.
And I had no Qi.
Getting excited now would be stupid.
Still...
I couldn't completely suppress the thought.
Maybe this world wouldn't look down on me.
Maybe here, effort could actually become visible.
The thought was warm.
Almost dangerous.
Before I could follow it further, the door opened.
Two more people entered.
One wore a dark blue uniform.
The other carried a tablet.
Police.
The atmosphere changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The officer looked at me.
Then at the doctors.
"Stable," one of them said.
"CT was clean."
The officer approached.
He asked for my name.
I waited.
Then shook my head.
"I don't remember."
The translator repeated it.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Where are you from?"
Silence.
"When did you arrive in New York?"
"I don't know."
"What happened to you?"
"I don't know."
The questions continued.
The answers didn't change.
Eventually, he asked about my parents.
I hesitated.
"I..."
I lowered my eyes.
"I think I had them."
The officer stared at me.
I stared back.
He couldn't know whether that was true.
Neither could I.
The tablet officer typed something.
The detective looked at him.
The response came quietly.
"Driver says he just appeared in the street."
Appeared.
That sounded about right.
The officer turned back to me.
The translator spoke.
"Until we identify you, you will be placed under temporary state custody."
Temporary.
I didn't know exactly what that meant.
But I understood the important part.
I wasn't being thrown outside.
That was enough.
The officer watched me for another moment.
Then left.
The door closed.
The room became quiet again.
I looked at the ceiling.
The machine continued beeping beside me.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Nobody was watching.
I slid one hand beneath the blanket.
My body still felt strange.
But it was mine.
I flexed my fingers.
Good.
I pressed my palm against the mattress.
The material sank beneath my hand.
I pushed harder.
The foam compressed.
I released it.
It returned to shape.
I lifted my arm and caught it before it bounced.
My reflexes were still there.
I smiled.
Only slightly.
So the body remained.
That mattered.
I listened.
The hallway outside.
Footsteps.
Air moving through vents.
Distant traffic.
The city beyond the glass.
No spiritual whisper.
No hidden enemy.
No presence waiting for me.
Nothing.
This world was strangely quiet.
Not peaceful.
Engineered.
Everything seemed built according to rules.
Machines.
Roads.
Buildings.
Measurements.
If Qi didn't exist here, then something else governed strength.
Something measurable.
Something learnable.
That thought settled into place.
I could work with that.
A woman arrived later.
She wore an official badge around her neck and carried several papers.
The translator explained.
"We'll transfer you to a licensed foster family."
Foster family.
I repeated the words silently.
Family.
The word caught somewhere inside me.
Not because it sounded warm.
Because it sounded stable.
A roof.
Food.
A bed.
People who were expected to let me stay.
No sect disciple waiting outside the door.
No elder demanding results.
No one asking whether I had improved enough to deserve tomorrow.
Just a place to exist.
I didn't know what to make of it.
So I filed it away.
I'd think about it later.
The woman left.
I was alone again.
I looked toward the window.
New York stretched beyond it.
Glass.
Steel.
Roads.
Lights.
An entire world I didn't understand.
For a moment, I wondered what kind of people lived here.
What they feared.
What they worshipped.
What they considered strong.
What they considered impossible.
I had spent years learning how to survive in one world.
Now I had been given another.
Maybe I could learn this one too.
The thought was strangely comforting.
I closed my eyes.
The monitor continued its steady rhythm beside me.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Outside, the city carried on as if nothing had happened.
It didn't know me.
It didn't know where I came from.
It didn't know what I could do.
For the first time in my life—
That felt like an advantage.
I opened my eyes.
I still had no idea why the lightning had brought me here.
I still had no Qi.
I still didn't know what would happen tomorrow.
But tomorrow existed.
For now, that was enough.