Chapter 4: Breakthrough and Problems | Immortality Starts With Karma

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Immortality Starts With Karma

Chapter 4: Breakthrough and Problems

I walked away from the Sunken Creek, leaving the damp air and the lingering tension behind me. The weight of the five Iron-Skin stalks in my pouch was a comforting, tangible result. The twenty-five points of Good Karma lighting up my System interface were an even greater prize. I had turned a risky situation into a profitable venture on multiple fronts.

Back in the confines of my hut, with the flimsy door barred, I felt a sense of security I had not known since arriving at this sect. It was the security of having options. I sat on my straw pallet, the day’s events replaying in my mind. The old Wei Chen was reactive, a victim of circumstance. I would be proactive. My most significant bottleneck was not my lack of resources, but my own pathetic cultivation speed. It was time to address that directly.

I called up the System. [GK: 25]. My gaze went straight to the "Host Enhancement" menu. There were several options, but one stood out as the most valuable investment for my current situation.

[Available Enhancements:]

[- Minor Recovery (Cost: 5 GK)]

[- Major Recovery (Cost: 10 GK)]

[- Cultivation Boost (Cost: 20 GK)]

[- ... (More options locked)]

I selected Cultivation Boost. The system’s description was precise.

[Spend 20 GK to initiate 'Accelerated Cultivation State'? For the next 12 hours of active cultivation, your Qi absorption and refinement speed will be increased by 300%. Time will only be consumed while actively cycling your cultivation art. Y/N]

The clarification was important. It meant I did not have to chain myself to this spot for a full day. The boost was a reservoir I could draw upon when I chose. I could leave and get other things done, it was a pleasant surprise. I confirmed the selection without hesitation.

[20 GK spent. 'Accelerated Cultivation State' is now active. Remaining Duration: 12 hours 0 minutes.]

I felt the change immediately. It was not a surge of power, but a change in perception. The very air in my hut, usually thin and spiritually barren, now felt thick with unseen energy. It was like a veil had been lifted, revealing the ambient Qi that was always present but mostly inaccessible to me.

I closed my eyes and began to cycle the Clear Sky Breathing Art. The effect was startling. Normally, drawing in Qi was like trying to breathe through a wet cloth; it required immense effort for a meager, wispy trickle. Now, it felt like opening a floodgate. A steady, cool stream of spiritual energy flowed into my body, gathering in my dantian with an ease I had never experienced. The refinement process, turning raw Qi into my own usable energy, was just as fast. What usually felt like grinding coarse stone into fine powder now felt like polishing a smooth river rock.

I cultivated for what felt like hours, completely immersed in the sensation of tangible progress. The small pool of Qi in my dantian visibly grew, swirling with more energy than it had ever held. I was pushing against the upper limits of the second stage of Qi Refining, a barrier that had once seemed impossibly distant.

When I finally opened my eyes, the midday sun was high in the sky. I checked the system. [Remaining Duration: 6 hours 2 minutes.] I had used nearly half the boost. A quick check of my own state revealed the results. The barrier to Stage 3 was no longer a solid wall. It was now a thin, fragile membrane, trembling with the pressure of my expanded Qi. A little more effort, and it would break.

But I had other business to attend to. The five stalks of Iron-Skin Grass in my pouch were a resource I needed to liquidate. The night's work had built up a ravenous hunger that another bowl of plain congee would not satisfy. I needed money, or better yet, a Contribution Point. My breakthrough could wait a few more hours. The market was my next stop.

I left the hut, feeling a new sense of confidence. The world did not seem as hostile as it had just a day before. The hunger in my stomach was a motivator, not a point of desperation. I made my way towards the center of the Outer Sect, to a dusty, open square that served as the local market.

The place was a hub of low-level commerce and desperation. Disciples sat on the ground behind worn cloths, displaying their meager wares. I saw a youth trying to trade a chipped, low-quality spirit stone for a handful of healing herbs. Another was selling hand-copied talismans for a few copper coins each, their painted characters shaky and uneven. A loud, boisterous disciple with a confident smile was trying to sell a "flawless" Qi Gathering Pill that I could see, even from a distance, had a faint greyish tint—a clear sign of impurities that could cause problems during cultivation. It was a place of small-time gambles and wishful thinking.

I found an empty spot between a boy selling dried animal pelts and a girl offering to mend robes. I took out my own cloth and carefully laid out the five stalks of Iron-Skin Grass. They were fresh, their dark green leaves still vibrant. Compared to the other sad-looking herbs and broken items for sale, they looked like high-quality goods.

As I expected, they drew a few curious glances. Several disciples paused to look but moved on, likely having no use for them or no funds to trade. After about ten minutes, a figure stopped in front of my stall, casting a long shadow over me.

I looked up. The disciple was a few years older than me, lean and wiry, with narrow, cold eyes that reminded me of a snake. He wore the dark blue robes of a disciple who could afford better-quality dye, and his posture was one of arrogant stillness. I felt the pressure of his Qi; he was a fourth-stage Qi Refiner, two full levels above my current state. This was Zhao Lun. I knew of him. He was not one of Jin Kai’s direct lackeys like Zhang Feng, but he was known to be part of that wider circle, a bully who was smarter and more dangerous than the usual thugs.

He looked down at the grass, then at me, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. "Fresh Iron-Skin," he stated, his voice flat. "I'll take them. Five copper coins."

The offer was insulting. It was less than half of what they were worth, even in this poor market. It was not a negotiation; it was a statement of power. He was seeing what he could get away with.

I shook my head, keeping my voice even. "I'm looking for Contribution Points."

Zhao Lun let out a soft scoff, a sound of genuine amusement. "Contribution Points? You think this common weed is worth a point?" He crouched down, bringing his face closer to mine. His eyes were cold and unblinking. "Don't be ridiculous. Ten coppers. That's my final offer. Or perhaps I'll just take them, and you can explain to everyone why you were foolish enough to try and barter with me."

The threat hung in the air between us. The few disciples nearby who had been listening began to quietly drift away, not wanting to be involved. This was how it worked here. The strong took from the weak, and everyone else pretended not to see. The old Wei Chen would have handed over the grass for free and apologized for wasting his time.

But I was no longer the old Wei Chen. I did not need to fight him. A physical confrontation would be foolish. I just needed to make this transaction more trouble than it was worth.

I met his gaze without flinching. "Senior Brother Zhao is a fourth-stage expert," I said, my voice calm and respectful. "Why would you need to threaten a second-stage disciple over a few stalks of grass? It seems beneath you." I paused, letting the words sink in. "Besides, if you just take them, you'd be doing it in front of everyone. I'm sure Senior Brother Jin Kai would be interested to know his associates are robbing new disciples in broad daylight for a handful of coppers. It makes him look weak, as if his followers are so desperate they have to resort to petty theft."

I had used Jin Kai's name as a shield. I was framing this not as my problem, but as his. Bullies like Zhao Lun operated on a delicate balance of fear and reputation. Being seen as a common thief who had to publicly bully someone for the equivalent of pocket change was damaging to that reputation. It suggested he was poor, desperate, and, worst of all, bringing low-level trouble and unwanted attention to his powerful patron.

Zhao Lun’s cold eyes narrowed. He was silent for a long moment, studying my face. The smirk was gone, replaced by a new kind of assessment. He was no longer looking at a helpless sheep, but at something that had unexpectedly bared its teeth. He had come here for an easy score, a quick assertion of dominance. I had turned it into a public spectacle with reputational implications.

"You have a sharp tongue for a weakling," Zhao Lun finally hissed, his voice low. He stood up abruptly. He reached into his robes and tossed a small, crude metal token onto my cloth. It landed with a dull clink. It was a sect-issued token, stamped with the character for "One." A single Contribution Point.

"Don't let me see you around here again," he spat, before turning on his heel and stalking away, his previous arrogance replaced by a stiff, cold fury.

I picked up the token, its weight cool and solid in my palm. I had won the confrontation without throwing a single punch. I had my Contribution Point. But I had also made a new, more intelligent enemy. I could feel Zhao Lun's angry gaze on my back as I packed up my cloth. He was not a simple-minded brute like Zhang Feng. He was observant and vindictive. I was now on his radar.

I tucked the contribution point token safely into the pouch at my waist. The stares of the few disciples who had witnessed the exchange were a mixture of surprise, fear, and a sliver of respect. I ignored them, packed up my simple cloth, and left the market square without a backward glance. The victory felt good, but it was tainted by the certainty of future trouble. Zhao Lun was not the type to forget a public slight.

I did not head to the Sect Market to spend my new earning. A single point was not enough to buy a better cultivation manual, and wasting it on a few Qi Gathering Pills felt short-sighted. It was better to save it, an investment for a more critical need. My priority remained the same: breaking through to the third stage.

Returning to the desolate quiet of my hut, I barred the door and sat down on my pallet once more. The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. I still had over six hours of the Cultivation Boost left. It was more than enough.

I closed my eyes and fell back into the rhythm of the Clear Sky Breathing Art. The accelerated state took hold instantly. The stream of Qi flowing into my body was a familiar, powerful current. This time, I was not just filling the pool in my dantian; I was directing the flow, gathering the energy and crashing it against the thin membrane that separated the second and third stages of Qi Refining.

The first few attempts were met with stiff resistance. The barrier trembled but held firm. I was patient, methodical. I gathered my Qi, compressed it, and slammed it against the wall again and again. The process was draining, but the constant, potent influx of new energy from the outside world kept me from becoming exhausted.

Hours passed. The world outside my hut fell into the deep silence of the night. Inside, there was only the sound of my own breathing and the feeling of surging energy. Then, I felt it. A subtle crack. A tiny fissure in the barrier.

I focused all my intent, all my will, on that single point. I gathered every wisp of Qi I could command into one final, powerful surge and drove it into the crack.

There was a distinct click inside me, a soundless vibration that shook me to my core. The barrier shattered.

A torrent of new energy, potent and refined, flooded my meridians. It was like a dam had burst, and the river was now flowing freely through channels that were suddenly wider and stronger. My dantian expanded, and the pool of Qi within it swirled with a new density and power. I felt stronger, sharper. The world around me seemed clearer, the subtle sounds of the night—the chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves—more distinct.

I had successfully broken through to Qi Refining Stage 3.

A sense of deep, profound accomplishment washed over me. This was the first real step I had taken on my own terms, a direct result of my planning and calculated risks. A prompt from the System appeared, a welcome confirmation.

[Host has advanced to Qi Refining Stage 3.]

[A personal milestone has been achieved.]

[Good Karma +5 acquired.]

The System rewarded self-improvement. My total now stood at [GK: 10]. I savored the feeling of my newly expanded Qi reserves, a tangible shield against the dangers of this sect. For the first time, I felt a measure of real security.

That feeling lasted for a blissful half hour.

I heard footsteps outside my hut. They were heavy and clumsy, more than one person trying and failing to be quiet. They were not passing by. They stopped right outside my door, their shuffling feet trampling the dirt. I rose silently to my feet, my newly sharpened senses on high alert. My brief moment of triumph had already evaporated, replaced by a cold, calculating readiness.

There was no knock.

The flimsy wooden door exploded inward, kicked off its crude hinges with a loud, splintering crack. Five disciples spilled into the cramped space of my hut, their shadows long and menacing in the moonlight filtering through the doorway.

Four of them were nervous first-stage disciples, their faces a mixture of bravado and fear. The one in the lead was a second-stage disciple I did not recognize, with a prominent, ugly scar bisecting his left eyebrow. He gripped a thick wooden club, its end stained with something dark. They were the lowest of the low, the sect's grunt workers, the kind of muscle that bullies like Zhao Lun used for their dirty work.

The scarred disciple pointed his club at me. "Zhao Lun sends his regards," he snarled, trying to sound more confident than he was. "He said you were getting too arrogant. He wants us to teach you a lesson. Remind you of your place."

I understood immediately. This was the price for my public defiance. Zhao Lun could not act himself, but he could send a pack of dogs to do it for him. They were here to beat me, maybe break a bone or two, and certainly to steal the Contribution Point token I had "stolen" from him.

I looked at the five disciples crammed into my tiny hut. A week ago, this would have been a terrifying, hopeless nightmare. Even this morning, at Stage 2, it would have been a desperate, brutal fight for survival.

But now? I had just broken through to Stage 3. My Qi was denser, my body stronger, and I had ten points of Good Karma ready and waiting. I glanced at the scarred disciple's club, then at the anxious faces of the first-stage disciples cowering behind him. A cold calm settled over me. This was not a beating.

This was an opportunity. An opportunity to test my new strength, and perhaps, to earn some more Karma.