The furnace did not care that Wei Liang had nearly died.
It roared all the same.
Heat pressed against his skin like an invisible wall, thick and suffocating. The air in the lower courtyard shimmered, distorted by waves of scorching energy that rose from the massive stone kiln embedded in the ground.
Servant disciples moved like shadows around it—thin, exhausted, silent.
Wei Liang stepped forward, carrying a basket of spirit coal on his back.
Each step was steady.
Measured.
Different.
No one noticed at first.
And that was exactly how he wanted it.
The furnace mouth yawned open before him, its interior glowing a dull, angry red. The scent of burnt minerals and scorched qi lingered in the air, heavy and bitter.
Wei Liang crouched slightly, reaching into the basket.
A chunk of spirit coal rested in his palm.
Black.
Rough.
At first glance, worthless.
But now—
He could feel it.
Faint.
Threadlike.
Residual qi, clinging to the coal like dying embers.
Interesting.
He didn't throw it in immediately.
Instead, his fingers tightened slightly.
His breathing slowed.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The movement was subtle—so subtle that even if someone stared directly at him, they might miss it.
But inside—
The weak flow of qi within his body shifted.
Not drawn violently.
Not forced.
But… invited.
A thin strand of energy peeled away from the coal, slipping into his palm like smoke drawn by a breeze.
It was crude.
Impure.
Barely worth noticing.
But Wei Liang's eyes sharpened slightly.
Even waste… contains something.
He tossed the coal into the furnace.
Hours passed.
The rhythm of labor never changed.
Lift.
Walk.
Feed the fire.
Repeat.
But Wei Liang had changed.
Every piece of coal he handled—
He touched.
Tested.
Absorbed.
Not much.
Never enough to alert anyone.
But enough to accumulate.
Tiny fragments of qi gathered inside his body, like droplets forming a hidden stream.
"Oi."
A voice cut through the heat.
Wei Liang didn't look up immediately.
Footsteps approached.
Heavy.
Unrefined.
He already knew who it was.
"Deaf now too?" the disciple sneered.
Wei Liang turned his head.
The same one from yesterday.
The one who kicked him.
"Move faster," the man said, crossing his arms. "Or do you want another lesson?"
Wei Liang met his gaze briefly.
Then—
Nodded.
No defiance.
No submission.
Just acknowledgment.
The disciple frowned slightly.
Something felt… off.
But he couldn't explain it.
"Tch."
He turned and left.
Wei Liang watched him go.
Expression unchanged.
But inside—
Your breathing is uneven.
Your stance collapses when you shift weight.
If you attack from the left—
He stopped the thought.
Not yet.
By the time the sun dipped low, the courtyard had quieted.
Servants dispersed.
The furnace dimmed slightly.
Wei Liang returned to the narrow corner assigned to him—a small stone alcove barely large enough to sit in.
No bed.
No comfort.
Only cold walls and silence.
Perfect.
He sat down slowly.
Closed his eyes.
And began.
The accumulated qi from the spirit coal stirred within him.
Weak.
Fragmented.
But real.
Wei Liang guided it carefully, threading it through his meridians.
Pain followed.
Not as violent as before.
But persistent.
Like needles pressing from within.
His breathing remained steady.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The crude qi resisted refinement, clashing against his already damaged channels.
Impurities.
He didn't force it.
Instead, he let it circulate repeatedly.
Round and round.
Each cycle shaved away a tiny portion of the chaos.
Time stretched.
Minutes blurred into something indistinct.
Then—
A slight shift.
The qi grew… smoother.
Not pure.
But usable.
Wei Liang exhaled quietly.
Progress.
A faint tremor rippled through his consciousness.
He paused.
Eyes still closed.
The pagoda.
It stood unchanged.
Silent.
Watching.
But—
The first floor seemed… clearer.
Not active.
But aware.
As if it had noticed something.
Wei Liang didn't approach it.
Didn't probe.
He simply observed.
Then withdrew.
Not yet.
His eyes opened.
Darkness had settled outside.
The courtyard was silent.
Only distant winds and faint echoes from higher peaks remained.
Wei Liang leaned back slightly against the stone wall.
For the first time since waking in this world—
He allowed himself a moment of stillness.
"…So this is how it begins."
No excitement.
No grand ambition.
Just understanding.
This world would not hand him anything.
Not power.
Not safety.
Not even dignity.
Everything had to be taken.
Carefully.
Patiently.
He lifted his hand slightly.
Flexed his fingers.
The weakness was still there.
But beneath it—
Something new.
Control.
A faint sound.
Footsteps.
Wei Liang's gaze shifted toward the entrance of the alcove.
Someone was there.
Watching.
A thin figure lingered in the shadows—another servant disciple.
"You…" the boy hesitated. "You didn't die."
Wei Liang looked at him.
"No."
The boy swallowed.
"I saw what they did to you yesterday…"
Silence stretched.
Wei Liang said nothing.
The boy shifted nervously.
Then—
"You should be careful," he muttered. "They don't like it when people… change."
Wei Liang studied him for a moment.
Fear.
Not hostility.
Useful.
"Name?" Wei Liang asked.
The boy blinked.
"…Chen Mo."
Wei Liang nodded once.
Then looked away.
Dismissed.
Chen Mo hesitated… then left.
Silence returned.
Wei Liang closed his eyes again.
But this time—
His thoughts were sharper.
Clearer.
This body is weak.
The sect is unstable.
The system is… unknown.
Everything was uncertain.
Everything was dangerous.
His lips moved slightly.
Barely a whisper.
"Good."
Deep within—
The pagoda remained still.
But somewhere—
Something ancient seemed to listen.
End of Chapter 2