As soon as the door clicked shut behind Ruo Lan, the small room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Jin Kai let out a long, slow breath and finally allowed himself to fully relax. For the first time since his descent, he had a quiet moment alone to assess his current situation. He knew this stay in the lower realms would not be short, it could very well last years.
He closed his eyes and turned his focus inward.
His body was still far from fully recovered. Even with the superior regenerative ability of his God Kin physique, sharp aches pulsed through his ribs, back, and limbs with every small movement. The bruises and gashes beneath the bandages had begun to heal, but the process was slower than he was used to.
More troubling was the complete absence of spiritual power.
No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't sense even a single thread of spiritual energy flowing through his meridians. When he delved deeper, searching for the vast, boundless God Kin power that had once surged within him like an endless celestial river, he found it locked away — completely dormant.
It felt exactly as the rules had warned: five heavy, invisible seals placed upon his core. Even though he possessed the "keys" his own will and knowledge — the locks refused to budge. His meridians were still damaged and fractured from the violent fall through the portal and the brutal impact with the sea. Without spiritual power to nourish and repair them, forcing anything now would only worsen the injury.
"I wonder why I can't even activate a single ounce of my God Kin power…" Jin Kai murmured quietly to himself.
He could sense the five seals clearly now, like five iron gates standing between him and his former strength. Trying to push against them felt like banging on solid stone with bare hands.
"Once I begin cultivating again, these seals should start to loosen," he reasoned. "But right now, my meridians are too damaged. I'll need to wait at least a few more days before I can even attempt to circulate energy."
Jin Kai opened his eyes and looked down at his body. His once-impressive black robes were torn in multiple places, stiff with dried seawater and stained with blood. The fabric, though damaged, still carried a faint, otherworldly quality that no mortal cloth could imitate.
"I'll need to change out of these soon," he thought. "They're too conspicuous."
It was then that a more pressing realization hit him his celestial ring was missing.
The ring that held almost all his belongings, artifacts, and resources was no longer on his finger. Since he had been unconscious and heavily bandaged when Ruo Lan and the children brought him in, she must have removed it while treating his wounds. She had likely placed it somewhere safe for him.
"I'll have to ask Ruo Lan about it when I see her again," he decided.
For the time being, there was nothing he could actively do. He was in no condition to move around freely or investigate his surroundings. All he could do was focus on resting and allowing his body to heal naturally. The thought of being so helpless was unfamiliar and slightly frustrating, but he accepted it with quiet resignation.
Jin Kai shifted his attention outward, taking time to truly observe the modest room and the world beyond it.
The cabin was simple and rustic wooden walls weathered by salt air, a small window offering a view of the endless sea, and the constant, soothing sound of waves rolling onto the beach. From what little he could see and hear, the house seemed to sit in a relatively isolated spot near the coast.
"I wonder if there are other people living nearby," he thought. "Or is it really just Ruo Lan and the five children here by themselves?"
The idea of such a small, self-contained household felt both strange and intriguing. In the God Realm, there had been no families, no daily responsibilities, and no need for companionship. Here, everything seemed built on quiet dependence and care.
Jin Kai's thoughts drifted naturally to Ruo Lan and the five children.
I wonder how they all ended up here, he mused. From what he had observed so far, Ruo Lan appeared to be the sole provider for the kids. She woke up before dawn to fish, cooked their meals, bandaged his wounds, and still managed to look after five energetic children with gentle patience. She couldn't be much older than her early twenties, yet she carried herself with the quiet maturity of someone who had shouldered heavy responsibilities for a long time.
What happened to their parents? he wondered. Did something take them away… or did they never have any to begin with?
He also couldn't help but question their surroundings. The cabin felt quite isolated. The sound of waves was constant, and from the small window he could see only sand, sea, and a few scattered trees. Was there a town or village nearby? Or were they truly living alone on this stretch of coast?
Even with all these questions swirling in his mind, Jin Kai let out a soft sigh.
"But even if I have these questions, I'll have to heal first," he murmured to himself.
His body was still too weak. Forcing himself to move around or ask too many questions right now would only slow his recovery. The most practical thing was to rest, repair his damaged meridians, and slowly rebuild his strength.
Still, one thing was clear, it would be best to talk to Ruo Lan soon. She seemed kind and level-headed. If he approached the conversation carefully, he could learn more about this world, their situation, and perhaps even the broader layout of the lower realms without revealing too much about himself.
Jin Kai shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as a dull pain flared in his ribs. He stared up at the wooden ceiling, listening to the distant laughter of the children drifting in from the dining area and the steady rhythm of the waves outside.
For now, patience was his only option.
He closed his eyes once more, letting the soothing sound of the sea wash over him. In the quiet of the room, a single thought lingered in his mind:
Ruo Lan…