Han Wei nodded, not trusting himself to say more. They continued up the path together, Liu Mei chatting about sect gossip he only half-understood. Something about Inner Disciples preparing for an expedition to the Cinnabar Cliffs. An upcoming competition between Outer Disciples for a prize of spirit stones. A visiting Elder from another sect who'd arrived yesterday.
The breakfast pavilion appeared around another curve, a large open-air structure with a curved roof supported by wooden pillars. Long tables were set up inside, already crowded with disciples. The smell of food drifted out, making Han Wei's stomach clench with sudden hunger. Rice porridge, steamed buns, something savoury with ginger.
They collected bowls and filled them from large pots kept warm over spirit stone heaters. Han Wei followed Liu Mei's lead, his body apparently knowing the routine even if his mind didn't. They found seats at one of the long tables, and he started eating automatically.
The food was simple but good. The porridge was perfectly cooked, each grain distinct but soft. The steamed buns were filled with vegetables and mushrooms. There was tea, hot and slightly bitter, that sent a warm rush through his body that felt like more than just temperature.
Spirit tea, Han Wei thought. Contains trace amounts of Qi that helps with cultivation and recovery.
He sipped it carefully, feeling the sensation. The warmth spread from his stomach outward, following specific pathways through his body. His Energy channels that shouldn't exist but did, carried this small Qi stuff through his system like blood vessels carried blood. He could feel them now that he was paying attention, a subtle network of sensation he'd been ignoring.
Around him, the disciples ate and talked. The conversation washed over him in waves, a mix of mundane concerns and strange topics. Complaints about chore assignments. Discussion of cultivation techniques. Speculation about which Inner Disciples might ascend to Core Disciple status this year. Someone mentioned a Nascent Soul Elder doing something or other, and the table fell briefly silent with respect.
Han Wei ate and listened and tried to process. He was in a xianxia world. One of those Chinese cultivation novels he'd occasionally skimmed during lunch breaks, the kind where people flew on swords and lived for thousands of years and cleaved mountains in half. The kind of story he'd heard about for its complete disregard of thermodynamics and conservation of energy. Stories where people "cultivated" mystical energy and became progressively more powerful through meditation and martial arts and consuming magical pills.
Apparently the universe had a sense of irony. Or this was still the most elaborate dying hallucination ever recorded. Either way, he was here now, sitting in a breakfast pavilion on an humongous mountain, surrounded by people who could apparently carry more than forty kilograms of water up very steep inclines without breaking a sweat.
The smart thing to do was adapt, gather information and figure out the rules of this system. His instincts were already kicking in, classifying what he knew and flagging what he needed to learn. The immediate priority was survival and understanding his current status, his resources, his position in the social hierarchy. Then he could worry about bigger questions like whether he could ever get back to his original world, and whether he even wanted to.
One thing at a time, Han Wei thought. First, don't get killed. Second, figure out how this cultivation thing works. Third... well, he'll get to third when first and second are handled.
Han Wei finished his porridge and tea, feeling more grounded despite the strangeness of his situation. His mind was starting to engage properly, moving past panic and into analysis mode. There were problems to solve here. Understanding cultivation was just another system to figure out like his previous work. The rules might be different from computer systems, but there would be rules. There were always rules.
Han Wei excused himself from breakfast before Liu Mei could drag him into more conversation. The need to understand his situation had crystallized from vague anxiety into urgent necessity, the way a critical bug report transformed an ordinary workday into an all-hands emergency. He needed data. He needed documentation. He needed to know what the hell he was working with.
The sect library seemed like the logical starting point. His borrowed memories supplied a location, three terraces up from the breakfast pavilion, nestled into a natural alcove in the mountain face. The path wound upward through scattered pine trees that grew at angles from the blue stone, their roots somehow finding purchase in what looked like solid rock. Morning sunlight filtered through their needles, casting dappled shadows across the worn stones beneath his feet.
Other disciples passed him going both directions, most moving with that same unsettling grace that violated every principle of human locomotion he understood. A pair of younger disciples, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, raced past him up the incline at what had to be a fifteen-kilometre-per-hour pace without showing any signs of exertion. Their laughter echoed off the stone as they disappeared around a switchback above.
Han Wei's legs handled the climb without complaint, which continued to disturb him. His body felt strange, so different from his memories. Back in Beijing, his idea of exercise had been walking to the corner shop for energy drinks. Here, he was climbing what amounted to a vertical kilometre and his heart rate hadn't even elevated noticeably.
The Outer sect library appeared around a curve in the path, a two-story structure built directly into the mountain face. Blue-tiled roof, wooden columns supporting a covered entrance, paper screens covering wide windows. The architecture was elegant in its simplicity, form following function without unnecessary ornamentation. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, characters carved deep into aged timber: "Azure Dragon Archive - Outer Disciples Section."
Han Wei paused at the threshold, suddenly aware that he had no idea what the protocol was. Did he need permission? A token? Some kind of identification beyond the bronze disc at his belt? His borrowed memories were frustratingly vague on details like this, providing emotional context and general knowledge but lacking the specifics, it felt like the previous Han Wei barely visited here.
He stepped inside.
The interior was larger than the exterior suggested, extending deep into the mountain. Rows of wooden shelves stretched into the dimness, each one packed with bamboo scrolls, bound books, and jade slips that glowed faintly in the low light. The smell hit him immediately: old paper, ink, wood polish, and something else he couldn't identify. The air itself felt different here, heavier somehow, saturated with an almost physical pressure.
An elderly man sat at a desk near the entrance, so still that Han Wei had almost missed him. The man's hair was white as snow, pulled back in a simple topknot, and his blue robes marked him as an Outer Disciple despite his apparent age. He looked up from the scroll he was reading, regarding Han Wei with eyes that were sharp and assessing.
"Han Wei," the man said, his voice surprisingly strong for someone who looked ancient. "I heard about your deviation. Elder Chen said you'd be bedridden for days when I spoke to him who checked in on you, yet here you are. Either your recovery is remarkable or you're remarkably foolish."
Han Wei's memories provided a name: Elder Zhao, though "elder" was apparently a courtesy title rather than an official rank. The man had been an Outer Disciple for nearly sixty years, his cultivation having stagnated at Qi Condensation eighth level decades ago. Rather than leave the sect in disgrace, he'd accepted a position managing the library, becoming a fixture of the outer sect.
"I'm feeling better," Han Wei said carefully. "I thought some light reading might help with my recovery."
Elder Zhao's lips twitched, perhaps amusement or perhaps skepticism. "Light reading hmm. Most disciples your age come here only when forced. The allure of cultivation manuals and technique scrolls fades quickly when confronted with the actual work of studying them." He set down his scroll and gestured at the shelves. "But you're welcome to browse. The outer disciples section includes basic cultivation theory, fundamental techniques, sect history, and general knowledge texts as you well know. Anything more advanced requires permission from the actual Outer Sect Library Elder."
"Thank you, Elder Zhao."
The old man had already returned to his scroll, dismissing Han Wei with the gesture. Han Wei moved deeper into the library, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. Small spirit stones set into the walls provided illumination, their soft glow just bright enough to read by. The shelves were organized with a logical system: cultivation methods on the left, supplementary texts in the middle, historical records on the right.
He found an empty reading desk near a window and sat down, finally allowing himself to properly assess his situation. Time to take inventory. What assets did he have? What were his liabilities? What resources could he leverage?
Han Wei reached into the inner pocket of his robes and began extracting items, laying them out on the desk for examination.
The bronze identity token, first. Circular, perhaps five centimetres in diameter, with a dragon design on one side and "Outer Disciple Han Wei" engraved on the other. The metal felt warm to the touch, warmer than it should be from simple body heat. When he focused on it, he could feel a faint resonance, like touching something alive.
A small pouch containing spirit stones. He opened it carefully and counted: fifteen low-grade spirit stones, each one about the size of his thumbnail, translucent white with faint wisps of energy visible inside. His borrowed memories suggested this was roughly two months' worth of the basic stipend all Outer Disciples received. Not wealthy, but not destitute either.
A second, smaller pouch held a few silver coins and a handful of copper ones. Mortal currency, used in the towns and villages below. The exchange rate surfaced from his borrowed memories: one silver coin bought a week's worth of meals for a normal family. Three silver was modest wealth by mortal standards, pocket change by cultivation standards.
A jade slip, rectangular and translucent green, with characters etched into its surface. Han Wei picked it up and immediately felt information flooding into his mind. Not words exactly, but knowledge, direct and unfiltered. This was the sect's basic cultivation manual, the foundational technique all Outer Disciples received. "Azure Dragon Breath Circulation Method - First Nine Levels." The information was dense, describing breathing patterns, meditation postures, energy circulation routes through the meridians. His mind tried to parse it systematically and struggled. The logic was there but it operated on principles that felt more intuitive than analytical.
Two more jade slips. The first contained a basic sword technique: "Azure Dragon's Flowing Strike - Twelve Forms." The second held a defensive talisman pattern: "Spirit Shield" Both felt incomplete to him, like reading a recipe without understanding the cooking techniques.
A small brush and inkstone, for talisman work. The brush was worn but well-maintained, the bristles still springy. The inkstone had traces of dried ink in its depression.
A waterskin, nearly empty.
That was it. His entire inventory. Fifteen spirit stones, some pocket change, three jade slips containing techniques he barely understood, and writing tools.
Han Wei sat back and stared at his assets. This was a low-level starting position with basic equipment. the original Han Wei had spent a total of three years in cultivation when cultivation started at 16 for most people their meridians were not ready before then, resulting in early Qi Condensation realm, fourth level, at the age of 19. This was a respectable achievement but not remarkable in the competitive atmosphere of the Azure Dragon Sect.. Adequate sword skills but nothing special. Basic talisman knowledge. No particular advantages or special opportunities.
A memory surfaced suddenly, vivid and detailed in a way the others hadn't been. Han Wei found himself drawn into it, the library around him fading as the past became present.
The original Han Wei had been ten years old. The memories settled into place like pieces of a puzzle finally finding their position. His village was small, perhaps two hundred people, nestled in a bend of the Jade Serpent River. Rice farmers mostly, with some fishing to supplement their diet. His father had been the village headman, respected and careful. His mother had made the best dumplings in three villages, or so his father always said.
The attack had come at night. Not bandits, though that's what young Han Wei had thought at first. The screaming had woken him. Fire reflected off his window, turning the night orange and red. His father had burst into his room, face grim, and shoved him toward the back door.
"Run," his father had said. "To the river and hide in the reeds. Don't come out until sunrise no matter what you hear. I love you son"
Young Han Wei had wanted to argue, to ask questions, to help. His father's expression had silenced all of that. He'd ran.
From the reeds at the river's edge, cold water soaking his clothes, he'd watched his village burn. Not ordinary fire. Purple flames that moved like living things, spreading from house to house with unnatural speed. Things moved in the fire. Shapes that were wrong, that hurt to look at. Screams cut off suddenly, one after another.
By dawn, there had been nothing left but ash and the smell of burned flesh. Young Han Wei had stayed in the reeds, shivering, for hours after sunrise. He'd been too afraid to move, too afraid that the purple fire would come back.
An old man had found him in the afternoon. Not from the village. The man's robes had been fine, blue and white with embroidered clouds, and he'd moved with a grace that even young Han Wei had recognized as supernatural. The man's face had been kind but sad, and when he'd looked at the ruins of the village, his expression had hardened into something that frightened the boy more than the fire had.
"Demonic cultivators," the old man had spat, more to himself than to the shivering child. "Still hunting in these lands despite the sect's patrols. This is unacceptable."
He'd turned to young Han Wei, and his expression had softened. "Child, I am Elder Qiu of the Azure Dragon Sect's Alchemy Pavilion. Your village was attacked by evil men who cultivate through slaughter. I'm sorry I arrived too late to save them."
Young Han Wei had stared at him, unable to process the words. Everyone was dead. His father, his mother, his little sister who'd been five and afraid of thunderstorms. The old woman who'd lived next door and always saved him extra sweets. The teenager who'd been teaching him to fish. Everyone.
"I cannot bring them back," Elder Qiu had said, crouching down to meet the boy's eyes. "But I can ensure their deaths are not meaningless. Would you like to become strong? Strong enough that no demon cultivator could ever threaten you or those you care about?"
The boy had nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.
Elder Qiu had taken him to the Azure Dragon Sect. The journey had taken three days, flying through the air on what the elder called a "cloud platform." The boy had been too numb to be amazed. They'd arrived at the mountain, and Elder Qiu had personally taken him to the registration hall.
The process had been thorough. Tests for spiritual roots, which apparently determined cultivation talent. The tester, a stern woman in Inner Disciple robes, had examined young Han Wei with various implements and jade slips before pronouncing her verdict: "Four spiritual roots: earth, water, wood, and fire. Balance is acceptable but not exceptional. Grade three potential."
Elder Qiu had seemed disappointed but not surprised. "Not a genius but he is adequate and he is better than most. He'll have a place here."
The elder had arranged everything: his registration as an Outer Disciple, his initial stipend of spirit stones, his assignment to a dormitory and training group. Then, with the efficiency of someone who'd done this before, Elder Qiu had departed to return to his duties at the Alchemy Pavilion.
Young Han Wei had never seen him again. In thirteen years, despite trying several times to find the elder and thank him properly, he'd never managed to even confirm whether Elder Qiu was still at the sect. The Alchemy Pavilion was in the inner sect, accessible only to disciples who'd reached Foundation Establishment or higher. For an Outer Disciple stuck at Qi Condensation, it might as well have been on another mountain entirely.
The memory released Han Wei, dropping him back into the present with a jolt that felt physical. He found his hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white, and his breathing was shallow and quick. The emotions of the memory were overwhelming. That grief, that loss, that desperate gratitude toward a man he'd never been able to repay.
Those were the original Han Wei's emotions, but Han Wei himself felt them vividly anyway. The memories weren't only information to be accessed. They came with full sensory and emotional context, and experiencing them was like reliving them firsthand. Painful.
He forced himself to breathe slowly, applying the same calming techniques he'd used during particularly stressful work situations. Panic helped nothing. Emotion was information that needed to be processed, not denied but not allowed to paralyze either.
The memory provided context he'd been missing. The original Han Wei hadn't been some cultivation genius or chosen protagonist. He'd been a trauma survivor who'd worked hard, kept his head down, and tried to become strong enough to honor the dead and justify Elder Qiu's kindness. Although three years to reach Qi Condensation fourth level wasn't remarkable, it represented thousands of hours of meditation and practice from someone who had no natural advantages.
And now that person was gone, his body occupied by an engineer from another world who didn't even believe in the fundamental premise of cultivation.
Han Wei pushed aside the existential crisis that threatened to surface. Not helpful. Not now. He could have an identity crisis later when his immediate survival wasn't in question. He needed to understand the rules of this world. Han Wei stood and began browsing the shelves, looking for foundational texts. Starting with first principles, build up from there. Understand the base system before trying to work within it.
He found a promising section labeled "Foundational Theory" and started pulling scrolls and books. "Introduction to Spiritual Cultivation," "Principles of Qi Circulation," "Understanding Spiritual Roots," "The Mortal Realms Explained," "Meridian Theory and Practice."
He carried an armload back to his desk and began reading.
The first scroll was dense with terminology but well-organized. Someone had put genuine effort into making this accessible to beginners. Han Wei appreciated that thoroughness.
Spiritual roots were apparently genetic, or at least hereditary, determining what types of Qi a cultivator could absorb and use. The five basic elements were metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Having a single spiritual root made cultivation faster but more limited. Having all five made cultivation slower but more versatile. The original Han Wei had four roots: earth, water, wood, and fire. Missing metal. That placed him solidly in the middle of the bell curve, not exceptional but not crippled either.
Qi itself was described as the fundamental energy that permeated all things. Heaven and Earth Qi, which was everywhere in varying densities. Spiritual Qi, which was refined Heaven and Earth Qi stored in materials like spirit stones. Human Qi, which was Spiritual Qi absorbed into the body and refined further through cultivation.
The cultivation realms were hierarchical, each one representing a qualitative transformation of the body and spirit. According to the text, there were five known mortal realms, though the scroll noted that information on the fifth realm was restricted to Core Formation and above:
Qi Condensation (Nine Levels) - The foundation of all cultivation. A cultivator learns to sense Heaven and Earth Qi, draw it into their body through breathing and meditation, and condense it within the dantian. Each level represents greater density and purity of Qi. Most cultivators spend years or even decades at this realm. The Azure Dragon Sect accepted disciples from surrounding regions, but only those who reached Qi Condensation ninth level could attempt the trials to become Inner Disciples.
Foundation Establishment (Early/Middle/Late/Peak) - After filling the dantian with condensed Qi, a cultivator must establish a foundation to support higher cultivation. This involves compressing the accumulated Qi into a stable structure within the dantian. The text described it as "building a platform upon which to construct greater works." Foundation Establishment cultivators gained significantly enhanced physical abilities, extended lifespan of up to three hundred years, and the ability to fly short distances using Qi. The breakthrough was dangerous, with a failure rate of approximately thirty percent resulting in death or permanent cultivation damage and they lived 150- 250 years.
Core Formation (Early/Middle/Late/Peak) - The foundation within the dantian is further compressed and refined until it crystallizes into a golden core. This core becomes the center of a cultivator's power, capable of storing vastly more Qi and performing complex techniques. Core Formation cultivators could live up to a thousand years, fly freely without external tools, and were considered true masters. Only the sect's elders and the most talented Inner Disciples ever reached this realm. The Azure Dragon Sect currently had seven Core Formation elders according to the text, which was last updated three years ago They lived to 500-800 years depending on their physique.
The scroll mentioned a fifth realm called Void Embryo but provided no details, stating only: "Knowledge of realms beyond Nascent Soul is restricted to Core Formation and above. Those who reach such heights will receive appropriate instruction."
Han Wei set down the scroll and considered what he'd learned. The Azure Dragon Sect was what the original Han Wei's memories termed a "third-tier" sect. First-tier sects housed multiple Void Embryo cultivators and probably immortals and were the true powers of the realm. Second-tier sects typically had several Nascent Soul ancestors. Third-tier sects like Azure Dragon had one or two Nascent Soul cultivators and were considered respectable regional powers.
For an Outer Disciple at Qi Condensation fourth level, these higher realms were so distant as to be almost mythical. The immediate concern was surviving and advancing within Qi Condensation, then hopefully breaking through to Foundation Establishment someday.
Han Wei picked up another text, this one titled "Meridian Theory and Practice." The diagrams were detailed, showing pathways through the human body that carried Qi. There were twelve primary meridians and eight extraordinary vessels, each one connecting to specific organs and body parts. The text explained that damaged meridians healed slowly and required careful treatment, which explained Elder Chen's warning about his Qi deviation.
He closed his eyes and focused inward, trying to sense his own meridians as the text described. It took several minutes of concentration, but gradually he became aware of a subtle network of warmth through his body. Some pathways felt smooth and clear. Others had a grainy, uncomfortable sensation, like inflammation. Those would be the damaged areas from his deviation, still healing.
The dantian was located approximately three finger-widths below the navel and three finger-widths inward toward the spine. It was described as the "container for refined Qi" and the "foundation of cultivation." When Han Wei focused on his dantian, he felt a warm pressure there, a sense of contained energy slowly circulating.
Hours passed. Han Wei read scroll after scroll, cross-referencing information, building a mental model of how this system worked. The library filled with other disciples as morning turned to afternoon, but he barely noticed. This was familiar territory: diving deep into documentation, extracting the underlying logic, mapping out the structure of an unfamiliar system.
Some things started making sense. Cultivation wasn't arbitrary. It was a systematic process of gathering, refining, and utilizing a form of energy that existed in this world. The process had rules, constraints, failure modes.
Other things made no sense at all. The text kept referencing "comprehension" and "enlightenment" as though understanding something could directly increase power. One passage stated: "A cultivator who comprehends the nature of water may advance their water techniques without additional practice, for true understanding shapes reality itself." That didn't seem possible, but then again, neither did a twenty-kilometre-tall mountain and people carrying enormous weights without effort.
He found a text on spiritual roots and learned more about his own situation. Four spiritual roots with balanced affinities meant he could practice techniques from four elements but would progress more slowly than someone with fewer roots and higher elemental purity. The text noted: "Multi-root cultivators often struggle to specialize, spreading their efforts too thin. However, those who overcome this limitation can achieve remarkable versatility."
Another scroll covered sect rankings and explained the hierarchy. Outer Disciples like himself were the foundation, numbering in the thousands. Inner Disciples had reached at least Qi Condensation ninth level or demonstrated exceptional talent, numbering in the hundreds. Core Disciples were Foundation Establishment cultivators being groomed for future leadership, perhaps two dozen in the entire sect. Above them were the Elders, all Core Formation or above.
The Sect Master, Nascent Soul Peak cultivation, was named Azure Dragon Master Tianlong. He'd held the position for eight hundred years and was approaching the end of his natural lifespan. The succession was apparently a delicate political matter, with several Core Formation Elders competing to break through to Nascent Soul and claim the position.
Han Wei absorbed all of this, fitting pieces together, understanding the world he'd found himself in. The Azure Dragon Sect protected the Emerald Kingdom and surrounding territories. In exchange, they received resources, recruits, and political support. They weren't the strongest power in the region, but they were far from the weakest.
For someone starting from the bottom, the climb was daunting. Qi Condensation to Foundation Establishment. Foundation Establishment to Core Formation. Each realm represented years or decades of cultivation, assuming you didn't die in the attempt or encounter a bottleneck that halted all progress.
"You've been here for six hours."
Han Wei looked up to find Elder Zhao standing beside his desk, expression unreadable. The library was nearly empty now, and the light through the windows had shifted to the golden tones of late afternoon.
"I'm sorry, I lost track of time," Han Wei admitted. "I apologize if I've overstayed."
"Not at all. But you should eat. And rest. Your body is still recovering from your deviation, whether you feel it or not." The old man glanced at the pile of scrolls and books covering the desk. "Foundational theory. Most disciples skim these during their first week and never look at them again. You've been reading them again like they contain the secrets."
"Understanding the foundation seems to be pretty important especially now since I am still recovering and unable to cultivate till I am fully healed," Han Wei said carefully.
"It is unfortunate that few realize that until much later, if ever." Elder Zhao studied him with those sharp old eyes. "You're different than you were before your deviation. You've not only recovered. You hold yourself differently. You think more before you speak. Compared to last time I saw you in the library."
"Nearly dying changes a person," he said, keeping his voice neutral.
"Indeed it does." Elder Zhao was quiet for a moment, then nodded to himself as though reaching a decision. "A piece of advice, if you'll take it. Don't try to breakthrough again for at least one month. Your meridians need time to fully heal, regardless of how well you feel. Pushing too hard, too fast, leads to permanent damage. Wei Feng ignored that advice. He'll never advance beyond Qi Condensation sixth level now, no matter how hard he tries. His foundation is cracked. Same with myself"
"I'll be careful," Han Wei promised, and meant it. He had no interest in breaking this body a second time.
"Good. Now go eat. The evening meal service ends in an hour." Elder Zhao turned to leave, then paused. "You may borrow up to three texts at a time. Return them within two weeks or face penalties. The jade slip catalogue is on the front desk if you wish to see what else is available."
Han Wei thanked him and began gathering his materials. He selected three texts to borrow: "Meridian Theory and Practice," "Understanding Spiritual Roots," and "Talisman Fundamentals - First Steps." The books felt heavier than they should be, but his body handled the weight easily.
As he left the library, bronze token registered with Elder Zhao's catalogue slip, Han Wei felt a strange sense of progress. He still didn't understand this world completely. He still didn't know if he could survive here long-term. But he'd taken the first step: gathering information, building a knowledge base, establishing understanding.
Now he needed to figure out how to apply that knowledge. The original Han Wei had been diligent but unremarkable. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe there were inefficiencies in the standard cultivation methods that no one questioned because they'd always done it that way.
He'd spent his entire career finding better ways to solve problems. Why should cultivation be any different?
But first, dinner. Even cultivation worlds ran on practical necessities and he wanted a taste of that spirit tea again.