Aladdin woke up feeling strangely refreshed, like he hadn't just survived a storm but had been resting peacefully for days.
He sat up on the bed, looking around. The hut was wooden, small, and empty—no windows, no furniture. Just the bed he had woken up on.
Odd.
He stood up and walked to the door. As he opened it, the scent of roasted meat drifted in. Outside, an old man with white hair stood by a small fire, turning skewered meat over the flames.
Aladdin stepped out. Trees stretched in every direction. A forest.
The old man turned and started walking toward him.
"Are you the one who brought me here?" Aladdin asked.
"What do you think?" the man replied calmly.
Aladdin didn't know what to say. He stayed silent.
"Who are you? Where are you from? And how did you come here?" the old man asked in one breath.
"My name is Aladdin. I come from..." He stopped, confused. "Wait—what language am I speaking? This isn't my language. What have you done to me?!"
The old man looked unbothered. "What I've done to you? I saved your life. You should've been dead by now. Now answer me—where are you from, and how did you get here?"
Aladdin blinked. His memory kicked in—the strange rain, the pain, his strength draining.
"I come from Agrabah. I don't know how I got here. The only thing I remember is rubbing that damn magic lamp," he said, teeth clenched.
"Aghra... what? Magic lamp?" the old man asked, frowning.
"Agrabah, old man," Aladdin repeated. "Now can you tell me—what is this place?"
"This is the Xuanlan Continent. Mirage Kingdom," the old man said. "And this mountain is Kunlun. No ordinary person dares come here. In fact, they can't. They'd die before reaching this far. When I saw you, I was shocked. Even cultivators avoid Kunlun Mountain."
"You keep saying 'ordinary people' and 'cultivators.' What's the difference?" Aladdin asked.
"Are you that dumb? Can't you tell?" the old man said.
"Tell what?"
"Can't you feel the difference in your body?"
Aladdin paused. "…How do you know I feel different?"
"It's obvious. When I found you, you were an ordinary person. But now? You're a cultivator. Your body has changed."
"So coming to this mountain made me a cultivator?" Aladdin asked, brow furrowed.
"Are you really dumb, or just pretending?" the old man muttered.
"Old man," Aladdin said flatly, "instead of answering my questions with more questions, why not just explain the whole 'cultivator vs. ordinary person' thing?"
The old man grunted. "Cultivators are individuals who refine their bodies, minds, and spirits through mystical practices. They gain supernatural powers and rise beyond mortal limits."
He added, "To become a cultivator, one must awaken their dantian and open their meridians to absorb and circulate essence."
"Cultivators are stronger than ordinary people," he continued. "They also live longer. Ordinary people might live a hundred years, but cultivators? The stronger they become, the longer they live—up to five thousand years."
"Five thousand?!" Aladdin repeated. "What's the point of living that long if you're too old to do anything? You'd be useless, depending on others to carry you around."
The old man smirked. "How old do you think I am?"
Aladdin studied him. "Probably sixty."
"I'm four hundred."
Aladdin's mouth fell open. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," the old man said. "When you're a cultivator, your body ages slowly. Your number goes up, but your body barely changes. Even lethal injuries? We recover quickly."
He stepped to the side, walked over to a large stone, and—without warning—punched it.
The stone shattered.
Aladdin's eyes widened.
"Now do you understand?" the old man asked.
"So you're saying I'm a cultivator now? But I don't remember awakening anything," Aladdin said.
"When I found you, you were injured beyond saving. But you still had one breath left. So I gave you a piece of my Whispering Wind Melon—to awaken your dantian and open your meridians. It was just supposed to save your life."
He looked at Aladdin. "But you didn't eat a piece. You ate the whole thing. I don't know how you survived—your body had no cultivation base."
Aladdin blinked. "So... that's what happened? So I'm as strong as you now?"
"Not like me," the old man said firmly. "I only meant to give you enough to make you a Martial Initiate. That alone would've saved you. But your dantian… it's like an endless well. You consumed everything, and instead of becoming an Initiate, you broke through to middle-stage Martial Adept."
He paused.
"That's never happened before."
"What's Martial Initiate and Martial Adept?" Aladdin asked curiously.
"They're levels of cultivation," the old man replied. "The more you rise to a higher level, the stronger you become—and the longer you live."
He continued, "There are seven main levels: Martial Initiate, Martial Adept, Martial, Martial Master, Martial Lord, Martial King, Martial Monarch, and Martial Sovereign. Some say there are even higher levels beyond that… but no one knows for sure if that's truth or just rumors."
"So when your level is low," he added, "it means you'd better not mess with someone at a higher level. The consequences can be… deadly."
Aladdin nodded slowly. "So which level are you?"
"Me?" the old man smirked. "I'm a Martial Lord. So don't mess with me."
Aladdin narrowed his eyes playfully. "What did you say your name was again?"
"I don't remember giving my name," the old man replied.
"It's just a figure of speech. I'm asking for your name."
"This old man is Bao Feng," he said, then smiled, "but you can just call me Old Bao."
"I'm hungry," Aladdin said suddenly, though he wasn't truly starving. It was just that the smell of that roasting meat had completely won him over.
*****
Aladdin and Old Bao sat under the shadow of a tall tree, savoring the freshly roasted meat.
Aladdin took a bite, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "What kind of meat is this? Is it goat?"
"Goat, my foot," Old Bao snorted. "It's Rank 4 spirit beast meat."
"Spirit beast?" Aladdin asked, chewing slower.
"Spirit beasts are mystical creatures that possess spiritual energy. They vary in intelligence, strength, and cultivation," Old Bao explained. "Their meat can strengthen the body, enhance essence, even stimulate meridian openings—if cooked well."
"Oh…" Aladdin mumbled with his mouth full.
"There are many types of beasts," Old Bao went on. "Spirit beasts, ferocious beasts, demonic beasts, cursed beasts, sacred beasts, divine beasts, undead beasts, ancient beasts, elemental beasts, mystic beasts… Some are friendly, most are dangerous. But you wouldn't know which is which—so keep your guard up."
Aladdin nodded, then asked, "But in that hut… there's nothing inside. So where do you keep your stuff?"
Old Bao simply raised his hand. A sword appeared out of thin air in his palm.
"Magic? Are you practicing magic?" Aladdin asked, stunned.
"You see the ring on my finger?" Old Bao asked, holding it up.
"Yes… is it a magic ring?" Aladdin replied.
"It's called a spatial ring," Old Bao said. "A mystical storage artifact with an internal pocket dimension. You can store all kinds of items inside. Time stands still in there—so even food stays fresh and doesn't rot."
He paused, then snapped his fingers.
"Oh! I almost forgot."
He reached into the spatial ring and pulled out a small bundle, tossing it toward Aladdin.
"I saw this on you when you were unconscious," he said.
Aladdin caught it, looked at it, then tossed it back. "You saved my life. I've got no way to repay you—so keep it. It's my thanks."
Old Bao tossed it back again without hesitation. "Life here isn't as easy as you think. It's complicated. You'll need every bit of help you can get. Keep your treasures—they'll serve you later."
He leaned back and looked at the sky.
"Cultivators need to absorb essence, refine their bodies, open meridians, and advance through realms to grow stronger. For that, you'll need spirit stones. If you're a loose cultivator, you'll have to find them on your own. Or… you can join a sect. A good sect will nurture you."
He paused again.
"Cultivators must train, battle, seek fortuitous encounters, and consume rare pills or beast materials to grow stronger," he added. "If you want to return to your home, it's not impossible—but you'll need power to do it."
At the mention of home, Aladdin's face fell.
He thought of his widowed mother… How would she survive without him?
His chest tightened. A deep sadness settled on his face.
"There are seven sect rankings," Old Bao said suddenly, as if trying to change the subject. "From Rank 1—the weakest—to Rank 7—the strongest."
He glanced sideways at Aladdin. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen," Aladdin replied.
"Good age," Old Bao said with a nod. "Perfect to join a sect… and start getting stronger."
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