Chapter - 11 A gift from heavens
After finishing his meal and making sure Yashaswini was comfortably settled, Aman stretched his arms and headed toward his little Qi farm.
I stepped into my little Qi farm, instantly noticing something off. The air was… thick. Not in an oppressive way, but dense, charged. The Qi generators--ahem, my "pets"--were in deep meditation, their slow, synchronized breathing making the entire space feel like a natural formation.
"Damn," I muttered, feeling the weight of the Qi in the air. "These little guys are better at this than me."
I sat down cross-legged, took a deep breath, and let my mind sink into meditation.
Alright. Visualize.
A pathway--something smooth, efficient. Qi couldn't just leak everywhere; it needed a direction.
A tube.
Yeah. A sealed conduit, where Qi could be forced from one end to the other. A natural flow, like water through a pipe. Or maybe… a circuit?
The thought locked in place.
Suddenly, I felt it--Qi shifting inside me, almost obeying the concept. The more I focused, the clearer the feeling became.
Something flickered in the space around me. Unnoticed by my deep, immersed mind, a faint, intricate symbol began forming in the air, glowing softly, its structure shifting as if responding to my unconscious thoughts.
The very fabric of Qi bent around it.
But I was too lost in the flow to notice.
As the visualization deepened, the tube in my mind took on more intricate shapes—twisting, turning, bending into weird, almost unnatural formations. Yet, it still flowed, never breaking, always maintaining its structure.
And then… something shifted.
A strange sensation rippled through me, like static in the air before a storm. I slowly opened my eyes—
Bright.
Too bright.
For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. The tube I had been imagining? It wasn't just in my head anymore. It was there, in reality, floating in front of me, shimmering like a mirage. But that wasn't even the weirdest part.
Behind it.
A symbol. Ethereal. Glowing.
Like a holy script had just manifested out of thin air. It pulsed with light and depth, shifting as if it existed on multiple planes at once. I blinked rapidly.
"Holy shit… Who photoshopped my eyes to see this? Lamao."
I reached out, half-expecting my hand to phase through it like a hologram—
And a hologram it was…
My hand went straight through it. The tube and the symbol began to fade, dissolving into nothingness like mist touched by sunlight.
I stared at my hand, clenching and unclenching my fist. "Life sure isn't easy, huh?" I muttered under my breath.
Then--plop.
A single drop of water landed on my arm.
I looked up. A sight to behold.
The sky had darkened, swallowed by ominous clouds rolling in like waves. The wind howled, furious and alive, whipping against my skin. The air thickened with moisture, that distinct earthy scent filling my lungs--the scent before a storm.
I closed my eyes and stood there, motionless, breathing deeply.
Then it came.
A dragon's roar echoed from the heavens.
The clouds trembled as a faint purple silhouette emerged, flickering like a phantom. The shape coiled and pulsed, watching.
Then, it lunged.
My hand instinctively gripped my sword, fingers tightening around the hilt.
Calm.
I opened my eyes--serene, steady.
I knew this phenomenon.
The memories of this body's previous owner had told me about it. A legendary tribulation. But knowing about it and facing it firsthand were two completely different things.
No spoilers.
The dragon's descent tore through the clouds, and I met its attack head-on.
I drew my sword and slashed--a single, precise motion.
The impact of my blade against the storm shook the air.
Power disparity? Meaningless.
I channeled qi into my ten opened meridians, forcefully pulling from reserves I hadn't even tapped into before. My organs screamed in protest. My blood boiled from the strain.
Didn't matter.
I wasn't going to run.
I couldn't.
This was my tribulation.
—-----------------------------------------
A woman in white stood silently at the edge of a tranquil lakeshore, her robes swaying gently in the breeze. Her eyes, clear and sharp, were fixed on the distant horizon.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.
The air grew crisp. The sky dimmed. The unmistakable earthy scent of rainfall began to spread.
Her eyes narrowed. "Too fast," she murmured, the serene lake now reflecting the tension in the sky.
"This… can't be natural."
Her first thought: an attack?
No. As the master of 9 Heavens Peak, any threat to the sect would've reached her ears long before it got this close. And this… didn't feel like a sect-wide crisis.
Her thoughts twisted toward something far more rare. More absurd.
A heavenly tribulation?
Impossible. Those only descended when one tried to transcend the five elements, stepping into the six-dimensional realm—the beginning of ascension.
And even then, cultivators broke through in isolation, in sealed grounds far from others, far from noise.
So why now? Why here?
She raised her gaze to the sky. A shiver crept up her spine as she saw it—a faint silhouette of divine thunder threading the clouds.
She blurred.
In a flash, her body vanished from the lakeshore, reappearing in the direction of the storm's center.
What she saw took her breath away.
A calm young man, alone in the eye of the chaos, his body unmoving like a sculpture carved from divine stone.
His sword slowly unsheathed.
His eyes opened—serene, as if nothing could shake him.
The lightning descended, and in a blinding instant, the sword met the divine punishment. The explosion of force hurled him backwards, slamming him into the wall of a nearby building.
A deafening sound.
Elders from all directions appeared, surrounding the epicenter in a blur of robes and worried whispers.
Confusion. Shock. Bewilderment.
"What's happening?" one asked.
Another, "Who triggered the heavenly wrath?"
The woman in white—Chandrika, still steady despite the chaos—spoke coldly,
"I just arrived… it looked like a disciple was struck by lightning. Perhaps he offended someone powerful?"
A reasonable explanation. The only one that made sense in the moment.
She landed softly near the rubble. There, amidst the broken stone and debris, lay Aman, unconscious, body scorched but breathing.
The other elders stepped closer, eyes widening.
One elder gasped and turned to Chandrika,
"…Isn't that your disciple?"
"Quick… there's no time!" Chandrika snapped, her calm composure cracking for a split second.
Without waiting for help, she knelt beside Aman and gently lifted him, her fingers trembling slightly as she sensed the chaotic state of his qi and the utter devastation within his body.
A blur.
They reappeared in a spacious treatment hall, one reserved only for elders or near-death emergencies.
She placed him on the soft silk-lined bed, his chest heaving irregularly, skin still faintly crackling with leftover qi static.
"Get Healer Varna! Now!"
Within moments, the sound of fast footsteps echoed, and a woman in deep green robes rushed in, eyes instantly falling onto Aman.
Without wasting breath, she went to work.
Medicinal pills. Qi-soothing balms. Healing arrays drawn with her bare fingers.
Her hands glowed faintly as she directed her spiritual energy into Aman's battered frame. But with each breath she observed, her expression darkened.
"His lungs… they're almost ash. The lightning seared through his meridians—every breath he takes is killing him further."
"Try everything," Chandrika said, voice cold but urgent, her fists clenched behind her robes. "Do not let him die."
Varna didn't reply. She was already in deep focus.
Her energy surged again. Sweat rolled down her forehead. She tried forcing stabilized qi into Aman's core—his organs trembled violently, fighting back against the very healing meant to save him.
Ruptured. Burned. Mangled from the inside out.
Yet even as his body screamed with pain, he held on.
Each breath was a war. But he was still fighting.
—--------------------------------------
Meanwhile… I found myself in a dream.
Or maybe not a dream… it felt too real. Like I was trapped in the backseat of my own brain, just watching reruns of my old life--
Back on Earth.
Ah… those were the days.
A freaking nerd, gaming all night, binge-watching mechanical stuff, breaking things apart just to put them back together.
Cars. Guns. Gears. Cola. Chips. Cola again.
Goddamn I missed cola.
But then something shifted in the dream.
A creeping sensation of awareness.
The kind that slithers into your skull when you realize…
Oh. I messed up. Big time.
"Shit… the heavens didn't like that, huh?" I muttered to myself in the dream void.
I could still think. But not move. Not breathe.
A slow chill crawled into me.
> Am I in a coma?
Maybe.
> Am I dying?
Most likely.
My organs were toasted like marshmallows at a Satanic barbecue.
I couldn't control my body, only maybe nudge a little qi here and there, but what good was that when the body it's supposed to heal is turning to soup?
"Ughhhh… colaaaaa… potaaatooo chipsss…"
My mind wandered like an idiot.
"Man, I wanna go back to my cola."
But then…
A spark. A click.
Healing!
Of course I don't know any healing spells. But what if… what if I made the body heal itself?
"Metabolism. If I increase my metabolic rate… my cells would divide faster. Heal faster."
It made sense in theory.
More cell division = quicker recovery.
The problem?
Cells need energy.
> ATP. Cells run on ATP. How the hell do I convert qi into ATP?
Photosynthesis? Fuck, I'm not a tree.
But Qi… is energy.
So in theory… if I could guide qi directly to the mitochondria… if I imagined qi as biochemical fuel… it could mimic ATP or even replace it.
"Alright, think, Aman. Don't be a dumbass."
My consciousness focused.
"I need to send qi to all my organs. Open pathways. I need to become a damn walking qi reactor."
Humans have 108 meridians.
At least that's what the books said.
But no one ever explained how the fuck to use all 108.
I had ten opened right now. And I'd already cheated my way into those.
> But if I can reroute, bridge, or force open even a few more… I might just have a shot.
And with that hope--
That stupid, unreasonable, nerd-fueled hope--
I began visualizing again.
A network of lines, spreading across my body like glowing circuits, pumping qi not for strength…
But for healing.
—
End of chapter 11