The muddy street was dead silent.
Izuku stood over the unconscious Vice-Captain Lang, his chest heaving as the adrenaline of his very first cultivator battle slowly faded. He looked at his uninjured arm, then down at the mercenary who had just tried to cut him in half.
Shen Yue stepped out of the apothecary, her canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She walked up to Izuku and pointed a slender finger at the man in the mud.
"Empty his pockets," she ordered simply.
Izuku blinked, the heroic instincts instantly clashing with her command. "Wait, you mean... rob him? Miss Shen, he's unconscious. We already won. Shouldn't we just leave him tied up or something?"
"This is not a playground, Izuku. This is the Profound Sky Continent," Shen Yue said, her voice stern but carrying a hint of a teaching tone. "He tried to take your life. In this world, the spoils belong to the victor. If you leave his resources behind, you are only giving him the tools to hunt you down tomorrow. He is already lucky enough that you are leaving him alive. Strip him."
Izuku hesitated for another second, warring with his morals. But he remembered the suffocating pressure of Shen Yue's aura and the terrifying reality of this world. Taking a breath, he knelt in the mud.
He found a heavy pouch of copper and silver coins, a small jade bottle containing two low-tier healing pills, and a thin, damp booklet tucked inside Lang's leather armor. Finally, he picked up the shattered hilt of Lang's sword. The blade was broken halfway up, but the remaining steel was still sharp.
Izuku stood up, handing the items to Shen Yue.
She took the coins and the pills, but pushed the broken sword and the booklet back toward his chest.
"Keep those," she said.
Izuku looked down at the booklet. The title on the cover was written in faded ink: Flowing Wind Sword Art.
"I don't know how to use a sword," Izuku said, turning the broken hilt over in his hand. "I've only ever fought with my fists."
"Then it is time you learned something new," Shen Yue replied, turning to walk down the dirt road leading out of the village. "You have a massive reservoir of Qi, Izuku. If you only use it to reinforce your fists, you are wasting ninety percent of your potential. A true expert does not limit themselves to a single path."
Izuku looked at the manual, and his inner analyst instantly woke up. He opened the first page. It was filled with diagrams of human meridians and stick figures demonstrating footwork.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was a new system. A puzzle waiting to be solved.
If I route my Qi through the second gate instead of the first like the diagram shows, Izuku muttered under his breath, his green eyes scanning the ancient text at lightning speed, the momentum of the swing would double. The author of this manual was completely ignoring the lower body's torque...
Shen Yue glanced back over her shoulder, watching the boy mutter rapidly to himself while staring at the cheap mercenary manual. She couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief.
"Are you coming, green hair?" she called out. "Azure Dragon City is nearly a month's journey on foot, and we need to put distance between us and this village before his Sect comes looking."
Izuku snapped the book shut, his eyes burning with a sudden, intense excitement. He gripped the broken sword, feeling the heavy, abundant Qi in his Dantian practically begging to be tested.
"Right behind you, Miss Shen!" Izuku called back, jogging to catch up.
By the fifth night of their journey, the muddy roads of the mortal village had given way to a dense, sprawling forest.
The canopy above was so thick that the moonlight barely pierced through, leaving their small campsite illuminated only by a crackling fire. Shen Yue sat on a fallen log, gracefully turning a wooden spit that held a pair of wild pheasants.
A few yards away, Izuku was focused.
He held the broken straight sword in his right hand. He had spent the last two hours analyzing the Flowing Wind Sword Art, mapping out the Qi circulation routes in his mind. It was a simple process: draw energy from the Dantian, push it through the arm, and project it outward from the blade.
"Alright," Izuku muttered, his green eyes narrowing. "Let's test the projection."
He channeled a single, heavy drop of his liquid Qi into the broken sword and swung it forward, following the exact form shown in the manual.
Izuku expected a small, crescent-shaped blade of wind like the one Vice-Captain Lang had used.
Instead, the sheer, hyper-compressed density of his Qi exploded out of the broken steel. A massive, roaring shockwave of pressurized air erupted from the blade. It didn't just cut the air; it violently tore through the forest.
CRACK. BOOM.
A trench of uprooted dirt and shredded bark appeared in front of him. Three massive, ancient pine trees were cleanly sheared in half, their heavy trunks crashing into the dark woods and sending a flock of terrified birds into the night sky.
Izuku stumbled back, dropping his arm in pure shock.
Shen Yue slowly stopped turning the roasting meat. She stared at the fifteen-meter path of absolute devastation he had just carved into the forest with a single, casual swing. For a first-level Qi Condensation cultivator to output that kind of destructive projection was mathematically impossible.
"Well," Shen Yue said, her voice entirely flat. "That is certainly one way to clear a path."
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing red. "I... I think I used too much energy. The manual said to push it outward, but my Qi is so dense that it just acts like a bomb."
"You hold an ocean, Izuku," Shen Yue explained patiently, recovering from her initial shock. "When you force an ocean through a technique designed for a puddle, it is going to overflow. You will need to learn absolute control, or you will end up destroying the very things you are trying to protect."
Izuku nodded, his analytical mind already spinning. He looked down at the broken sword. If projecting it outward creates too much collateral damage, then I need to change the output method for close-quarters combat. I need to keep the energy contained.
Before he could test his new theory, a low, guttural growl echoed from the dark treeline. The noise of falling trees had attracted company.
Shen Yue didn't flinch. She simply took a bite of her pheasant.
"A shadow stalker," she noted calmly. "A low-tier demonic beast. Roughly equivalent to a third-level Qi Condensation cultivator. Its hide is resistant to blunt force." She looked over at Izuku with an expectant raised eyebrow. "It seems you have a live target to practice your control on."
From the shadows, a massive panther-like creature stepped into the firelight. Its fur was pitch black, shifting like actual smoke, and its eyes burned with a hungry, crimson light. Seeing the scrawny boy holding a broken sword, the beast lunged, its jaws snapping toward Izuku's throat with terrifying speed.
Izuku didn't panic. He sidestepped the pouncing beast, feeling the rush of air as its claws narrowly missed his chest.
Control the output, Izuku reminded himself.
As the beast recovered and spun around for a second strike, Izuku channeled another surge of his liquid Qi directly into the broken sword. But this time, he didn't push it out into the air. Using his absolute focus, he tried to trap the abundant energy, forcefully wrapping it tightly around the jagged steel edge.
But it wasn't that simple. The hyper-compressed Qi bucked and twisted like a wild animal. The air around the blade didn't just warp; it sparked erratically, the energy fighting his mental grip. It took every ounce of his concentration just to keep the energy from exploding again.
The shadow stalker leaped.
Izuku stepped forward and swung the broken sword, his muscles straining against the violently vibrating energy.
Instead of a clean, surgical cut, the unstable Qi on the blade detonated slightly upon impact. The beast was killed instantly, thrown backward with a jagged, messy wound across its chest, but the sudden recoil shot straight up Izuku's arm.
Izuku winced, his fingers going numb as the broken sword slipped from his grasp and hit the dirt. The steel blade had gained another deep, spiderweb crack from the unstable pressure.
Izuku let out a ragged breath, massaging his throbbing wrist. "The theory works... but holding it together while moving is incredibly hard."
Shen Yue slowly lowered her skewer. She looked at the dead beast, the cracked sword, and the boy's analytical frown. He hadn't mastered it. He was sloppy, unrefined, and completely lacked the muscle memory of a true swordsman.
But he had understood the fundamental flaw of the technique and successfully theorized a high-tier countermeasure on his very first try.
"The path of cultivation is long, green hair," Shen Yue said, a small, genuine smile breaking through her stoic mask. "Comprehension is merely the spark. Mastery requires a thousand battles to forge the muscle memory. It seems the sword suits you - you just need to put in the blood and sweat to learn how to hold it."
Izuku stared down at the severed halves of the shadow stalker. The metallic scent of blood began to overpower the smell of the roasting pheasants. Back in his world, villains were tied up and handed over to the police. Here, his first instinct had been to practically bisect a living creature.
"It bothers you," Shen Yue said. It wasn't a question.
Izuku swallowed hard, his green eyes reflecting the campfire. "I know it was a monster. It was going to kill me. It just... it feels heavy. Taking a life."
"It should feel heavy," Shen Yue replied, walking closer to him. "The moment it stops feeling heavy is the moment you become a demon yourself. But do not mistake mercy for strength, Izuku. In this world, the path to the peak is paved with bones. If you want to protect the innocent, your hands must be willing to be stained in blood. The aura of a true expert is not built on hot air. It is built on the crushing weight of the lives they have ended. Remember that feeling. Let it temper your will."
Izuku slowly nodded, his jaw tightening. He looked at his right hand, which was still trembling slightly from the violent recoil of his unstable Qi. The skin around his wrist and knuckles was bruised a deep, angry purple.
Shen Yue sighed, her gaze dropping to his throbbing arm. "Sit down. You have damaged your meridians by forcing that compression."
Izuku sat heavily on a fallen log. He watched in absolute bewilderment as Shen Yue casually waved her left hand.
With a heavy thud that shook the dirt, a solid bronze alchemical furnace, easily the size of a large barrel, materialized out of thin air.
Izuku blinked, his eyes darting from the massive furnace to Shen Yue's slender frame and back again. "Miss Shen... you were carrying a canvas bag. Where in the world did a bronze furnace just come from?"
Shen Yue held up her left hand, tapping a plain, unassuming silver band on her index finger. "A spatial ring. It contains a separate pocket of folded space. A basic necessity for any cultivator who travels, though incredibly expensive for mortals."
Izuku's inner analyst flared up, momentarily forgetting the stinging in his arm. "Folded space? You mean you can manipulate quantum pockets? Does it have a weight limit, or just a volume limit? Does time pass inside it?"
"Volume," Shen Yue answered, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she tossed a few dried herbs into the bronze furnace. "And time is suspended. Now be quiet and let me concentrate."
She ignited a small, controlled flame beneath the furnace, her movements practiced and elegant. Within minutes, the rich, minty aroma of refined medicinal herbs filled the campsite. She tapped the side of the bronze vessel, and a small, perfectly round green pill shot out, landing neatly in her palm. With another wave of her hand, the massive furnace vanished back into her ring.
Shen Yue walked over to Izuku. Instead of simply handing him the pill, she knelt in front of him. The firelight cast warm, dancing shadows across her porcelain skin and illuminated the golden depths of her eyes.
She reached out and took his injured right hand in both of hers. Her fingers were cool, soft, and impossibly delicate against his scarred, calloused skin. Izuku's breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact, his heroic instincts momentarily short-circuiting.
"Open your mouth," she ordered softly.
Izuku parted his lips, and she gently placed the green pill on his tongue. "Swallow it, and guide the energy to your wrist."
As the pill dissolved into a cool, soothing rush of healing energy, Shen Yue didn't let go of his hand. She began to massage his bruised knuckles, her thumbs tracing the tight, inflamed meridians under his skin to help the medicine circulate. The physical proximity was suddenly suffocating for Izuku. He could smell the faint scent of lotus and smoke clinging to her clothes. He looked down at her, acutely aware of the quiet isolation of the dark forest around them, and his face immediately flushed red.
Shen Yue glanced up, her golden eyes calm and entirely unbothered by the sudden intimacy. She could feel the sudden, erratic spike in his pulse through his fingertips, but her expression remained perfectly impassive.
For Izuku, the moment stretched on for an eternity, his usually analytical mind completely blanking out under the weight of her piercing gaze.
Slowly, having finished guiding the medicine, Shen Yue let her hands slide down from his knuckles. She pulled away and stood up, smoothing out her robes with practiced indifference.
"Your heart is racing. You must learn to control your breathing when circulating medicinal Qi," she noted smoothly, turning her back to him to walk toward the fire. "Get some sleep, green hair. We have twenty-five days of walking left. And tomorrow, you are going to swing that cracked sword until your arms fall off."
Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He looked at his hand, the pain completely gone, replaced by a lingering warmth from her touch. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will the heat out of his cheeks, before clenching his newly healed fist.
"Yes, Miss Shen."