Chương 7: Changes in the panel 1.7

Ning quickly settled into his new residence: a humble hut beside his ten acres of land. Inside, he found a bed, a cupboard, a small kitchen, and even a bathroom. All the basics were there, though technically, they weren't his. They were hand-me-downs from whoever had lived here last.

"Thankfully, the servant cleaned the place and replaced the covers and blanket." Ning didn't want to imagine the alternative. Who knew what kind of cultivator had stayed here before? Maybe the guy failed a breakthrough and exploded. Or worse, Ning shuddered, it could've been unwashed socks. He didn't have much faith in the hygiene standards of teenagers in medieval fantasy worlds. The cupboard was next. Empty, of course. No hidden manuals, no surprise snacks, not even a forgotten copper coin.

Truly, the inheritance of the ages. The kitchen wasn't much better: one pot, one ladle, and a stove that looked like it might explode the next time it saw firewood. He was saying a common theme here.

"Well, at least the sect promised three months of rations." In fact, there was a reason for the generosity. Beginners were advised against eating mortal food during qi cultivation. Something about turbid qi… or impurity. Either way, free food. Yay. Still, it was a roof over his head. And unlike Earth, rent was zero. Well, zero if you didn't count back-breaking labor and giving seventy-five percent of your harvest to the sect. A bargain, really. After a quick bath, Ning collapsed onto the bed.

He considered himself an introvert at heart, and one day of moving, talking, and meeting new people had already shredded his mental stamina.

"Alright, plans for the future," he muttered.

"Step one, survive. Step two, improve cultivation. Step three, learn farming." The bed creaked ominously as he rolled onto his side. Ning frowned.

"Step four, reinforce the furniture before it murders me in my sleep." With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off into his favorite type of relationship. Death without commitment. He slept.... In the morning light, Ning stood bare-chested, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He sank into a horse stance, rooting himself to the ground before driving his fists forward with sharp, echoing cracks. After a grueling session, he finally stopped, muscles burning and chest heaving.

[Panel] [Name: Ji Ning Spiritual Root: Mid-grade Spiritual Root Attributes: Five Elemental Attributes Talent: Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity Realm: 1st Stage of Qi Condensation (Consolidated) Cultivation Method: Pure Qi Sutra (1st floor: 1/100) Martial Arts: Bone Forging Fist (Starting: 99/100 → Small Accomplishment 1/200), Shadow Steps (Starting: 99/100)] The panel had grown more detailed than before. Seeing his effort reduced to neat numbers filled Ning with unexpected satisfaction.

"The panel evolves on its own… but this change, " his lips twitched. It looked less like something out of a cultivation world and more like the RPG stat screens he used to grind back on Earth. Except now, he was the one inside it. For a moment, his gaze sharpened, then he sighed.

"Still no clue." Practicality won out. Cause or mystery, it worked in his favor. Progress he could measure was progress he could chase. In a world where most people gave up before noticing results, he had proof in digits, motivation in hard numbers. When his eyes lingered on the Bone Forging Fist and Shadow Steps, his lips curved faintly. Both teetered on the edge of breakthrough. The original Ji Ning had ground away at these arts for years, hamstrung only by a lack of cultivation.

Now, with even a thread of Qi to fuel them, that foundation surged forward.

"I really benefitted from 'Ji Ning.'" Ning couldn't help but say. Despite being starved of Qi, the boy had never slacked, drilling every day. That stubborn effort had turned into Ning's sudden leaps. Still, Ning realized he kept thinking of the former owner of this body as the "previous Ning." But the truth was, he was Ning now. Perhaps the two had merged, though it was clear the otherworlder's personality had taken the lead. One more mystery to unravel.

"I'm Ning no more, but at the same time, I have gone even further beyond," Ning said, raising my hand in the empty room.... Great, now he feels stupid. The mirror didn't laugh back, only showed a lean, sharp-eyed boy with muscle shaped by diligence. Bone Forging Fist had not only hardened his strikes but tempered his frame like forged steel. Each step meant more power, more resilience.

"Good thing too," he said, flexing once.

"Farming's still muscle work." After replenishing his Qi, Ning pressed the jade slip of sect rules to his forehead. Respect elders. Obey orders. Don't trespass on forbidden grounds. No duels without cause. Theft and desertion are punished by death. Straightforward enough. But the phrasing was uneven, absolute in some lines, vague in others. Classic. A rule's only as strict as the one enforcing it. Back on Earth, he'd learned early: the first step in surviving any system was memorizing its rulebook.

Not to follow it blindly, but to see where the boundaries bent. If you knew the limits, you also knew how far you could push before the rope snapped. He exhaled. Same principle here. Keep your head down, learn the cracks, and move inside them. Setting the slip aside, he brought out the Pure Qi Sutra. Like any sect method, it promised unique features. Practiced to its peak, it was said to not only refine Qi but purge one's marrow of impurities.

Few reached that height, but its real strength was in what most disciples could grasp, purer Qi, longer endurance. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. That suited Ning just fine. The purer his Qi, the longer he could drill martial arts before running dry. He liked that. Crossing his legs, he closed his eyes and began breathing slow and deep. Spiritual energy trickled into his body, flowing through his meridians, refined at last into true Qi within his dantian.

It was smooth enough, until the ache set in. His meridians throbbed faintly, protesting the strain. A beginner's limit. One hour at most, then rest. Push further and efficiency dropped sharply. Extended cultivation was a luxury of the higher realms, even most Foundation Establishment disciples couldn't afford long retreats. When at last he opened his eyes, sweat cooling on his brow, Ning whispered to himself, "One step at a time." For the next few days, Ning barely left his courtyard.

The sect had granted this brief adjustment period, and wasting it would have been foolish. Those quiet days turned out to be more enlightening than he'd expected. While practicing the Pure Qi Sutra, he hit a snag. Even within his safe practice limits, pushing his qi through constant, back-to-back circulations started causing a faint discomfort in his meridians, a dull, raw ache, as if the channels inside him were being rubbed the wrong way. If it were a physical injury, he would have felt other symptoms.

If it were pure exhaustion, a solid night's sleep would have fixed it. This was neither. So, Ning changed his approach. Instead of cultivating until his brain felt sluggish, he pulled back early, stopping right as his qi completed a few smooth cycles and naturally began to settle. He waited until everything was perfectly still before starting the next session. The difference was night and day. The lingering ache vanished. His breathing grew steadier, and his meditation became far more efficient.

Ning opened his eyes slowly.

"So that's the trick." The opening lines of the manual surfaced in his mind: Qi is not seized, but welcomed. The body is not a furnace, but a vessel. At first, he'd written that off as flowery nonsense. It wasn't entirely his fault; nearly a third of the text was clogged with bloated, abstract metaphors. But it turned out the Pure Qi Sutra actually rewarded restraint. He tested the theory over his next few sessions, deliberately pushing past the settling point once, then stopping early the next time.

The results were consistent. Beyond a certain threshold, forcing the circulation didn't actually strengthen his foundation. It just chafed his meridians, like sanding a piece of wood until it wore completely thin. Satisfied with his progress, Ning finally stepped out into the open air. A fresh breeze immediately cleared his head. Out by the path, he ran into Old Zhou, who looked like he was just returning from a morning fishing trip.

"Junior Brother Ning, you look refreshed today," Old Zhou noted, remembering how reclusive the kid had been the last few days.

"Junior Brother?" Ning blinked. Oh, right, he was in xianxia land where such terms were common. Ning felt that calling others that was a bit of a mouthful, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do. If he wanted to blend in, he had to play the part.

"Yes, I finally cleared a roadblock that had been annoying me."

"Oh? What was that?" Old Zhou asked, genuinely curious. Ning casually laid out his findings. There wasn't much point in hiding a basic mechanical realization anyway. Old Zhou let out a short chuckle.

"So you caught onto that, did you?"

"You already knew?"

"Of course," Zhou said easily.

"But it's always better when a cultivator figures these things out on their own. Think of it as a rite of passage for newcomers." Ning stared at him. A rite of passage? Leaving out basic safety warnings is just hazing. Seeing Ning's deadpan expression, Old Zhou straightened up and gestured toward the vast, terraced fields around them.

"Cultivation is no different from farming, brat. Too much water drowns the roots. Too little dries them out. Knowing when to stop matters just as much as knowing how to act." He pointed a calloused finger toward the distant, jagged hills.

"Environment plays a role, too. Cultivate near water, and excess yin seeps into your channels. Near bare stone, fire qi gathers faster. The exact same technique will give you completely different results depending on where you sit. The same goes for timing."

"Timing?" Ning asked, leaning in. Zhou nodded.

"Morning qi rises fast but lacks stability. Night qi is calm, but heavy and sluggish. Midday is perfectly balanced, assuming your body can handle the heat." Ning bowed deeply, entirely sincere this time.

"Thank you for the guidance, Senior." Getting his hands on this kind of practical data was a massive shortcut. At the very least, it saved him weeks of trial and error.

"Just common sense around here," Zhou replied, waving a dismissive hand.

"You'll hear the elders explain it properly in a few days anyway. The General Affairs Hall will be posting the outer sect lecture schedule soon." Ning thanked him once more, sighing inwardly as he walked away. If even these foundational tips weren't included on the starter jade slips, the sect's strategy was obvious: they didn't care about preventing mistakes; they just wanted to control the information.... Thanks for reading~