When Lin Mo Chen opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was a warm weight resting on his chest.
General Fatty was asleep there with her feathers puffed up, her head tucked beneath one wing and a level of peace that felt almost insulting. Each breath made her small body rise and fall, as if the chicken had decided to turn him into a particularly uncomfortable bed.
For several seconds, Lin Mo Chen remained still, staring at the ceiling while trying to remember why every part of his body felt as though someone had gone over it with a hammer.
A dull pain ran through his ribs when he tried to sit up.
"General... I think one of us needs to lose some weight."
The only response he got was a sleepy cluck.
Holding her with both hands, he carefully moved her onto the pillow. General Fatty barely opened one eye before settling down again, completely indifferent to her commander's suffering.
Lin Mo Chen slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
Stiffness and exhaustion filled every muscle, and the bruises were still there, but the burning pain from the night before had almost completely disappeared.
With some hesitation, he placed a hand over his sternum.
Under the morning light, his skin looked completely normal. Not a single crimson line remained visible. If not for the memory of the pain and the faint warmth still lingering beneath his skin, he might have thought the whole thing had been some especially ridiculous nightmare.
Closing his eyes, Lin Mo Chen turned his awareness toward his Qi core.
The first four fragments of his pseudo-Spirit Ring continued rotating slowly around it. Beside them floated another fragment, though a small section was still covered in an illusory haze.
The difference was obvious.
Before integrating the Spirit Patterns, that fragment had barely managed to hold an incomplete shape. Now it was only a step away from fully consolidating.
Lin Mo Chen stared at his Qi core, unaware of the smile slowly forming on his face.
Without wasting any time, he crossed his legs on the bed and settled into a meditative posture. Huo Can had not said a single word since the previous night, probably exhausted from the effort, but waiting for him to wake up seemed unnecessary.
After steadying his breathing, Lin Mo Chen began drawing in the surrounding Huan Qi.
The energy slowly gathered around him before flowing into his body.
Up to that point, nothing had changed. The amount of Huan Qi he could attract was still mediocre, far below what someone with real cultivation talent could manage.
But the moment the energy entered his body, a faint warmth appeared in the center of his chest and began spreading outward.
Beneath his skin, the lines Huo Can had drawn awakened one after another. Even with his eyes closed, Lin Mo Chen could sense them clearly. They formed a network around his Qi channels, guiding the Huan Qi toward his core with a precision he had never experienced before.
For the past month, cultivating had been like trying to fill a cracked container. Much of the Huan Qi he absorbed vanished before reaching his core, swallowed by the pendant without him knowing.
Even before finding the stone, cultivation had never been easy. Huan Qi scattered through his channels before he could properly control it, forcing him to gather it again and again just to nourish his fragments.
Now it moved completely differently.
He wasn't absorbing it any faster, but once inside his body, the Huan Qi circulated in a far more orderly way.
What would once have taken a long meditation session now happened with surprising ease. Lin Mo Chen kept his breathing steady and continued cultivating.
Without realizing it, an hour passed.
Little by little, the haze covering the final part of the fifth fragment began to condense. Its edges became clearer, the surface stopped trembling, and a faint glow spread across the entire fragment.
When the last strand of Huan Qi merged into it, the fragment trembled slightly. A moment later, all five fragments lit up at once.
Warm energy burst from the center of his body and flowed through his muscles, bones, and Qi channels. Some of the exhaustion left over from the night faded as fresh strength filled his limbs.
Lin Mo Chen opened his eyes and remained still for a moment before raising both hands and staring at them, almost as if he expected to see some obvious change.
He had reached the fifth level of Ling Qi.
It wasn't an extraordinary breakthrough. Lin Yao'er was already at the ninth level, Lin Yan had reached the seventh, and plenty of disciples his age were still ahead of him.
Even Lin Mo Chen himself should have reached this level weeks ago, if he hadn't bought a stone capable of devouring every bit of Huan Qi he gathered.
Even so, a smile slowly appeared on his face.
For the first time, his progress no longer depended entirely on his mediocre talent or on the pills his parents managed to buy for him through painful sacrifices.
"Fifth level..." he murmured, clenching his fist. "Not bad for someone who almost died three times yesterday."
Movement on the pillow caught his attention. General Fatty had just woken up and was staring at him with one round eye. His great breakthrough did not seem to impress her much.
"You could at least try to look impressed."
The chicken leaned forward and pecked at a crumb trapped between the blankets. Lin Mo Chen decided to take that as congratulations.
After changing clothes, he buried the burned robe at the bottom of his wardrobe as though it had never existed and left the room.
He tried to walk normally, but every step sent small stabs of pain through his body.
The smell of freshly cooked rice and broth drifted in from the kitchen. His mother stood beside the brazier, dividing breakfast between several bowls.
Only when he approached the table did he notice they were not alone.
A stern-faced man with his hair tied back in a simple ponytail sat at the table, drinking tea in silence. Dry dust covered his boots, and the sleeves of his brown robe were slightly worn.
Lin Mo Chen slowed the moment he saw him.
His father had returned.
Since waking up in this world, Lin Mo Chen had barely spent any time with him. Clan missions kept his father away for long stretches, escorting caravans, guarding properties, or hunting ordinary beasts around Yunshan.
Still, the memories left behind by the original Lin Mo Chen made it clear what kind of man he was.
He wasn't a cold father.
He simply didn't talk much and somehow seemed to notice everything.
The moment he sensed Lin Mo Chen's arrival, he raised his eyes.
His father's gaze slowly passed over him. It took only a moment for him to notice the stiffness in Lin Mo Chen's movements before settling on the sleeve hiding his injured shoulder.
"Father, you're back."
"Last night."
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the brazier.
His mother placed a bowl of rice in front of Lin Mo Chen and returned to the stove.
Lin Mo Chen sat down carefully, picked up his chopsticks, and tried to focus on breakfast. He had barely taken his first bite when his father placed a small ceramic bottle in front of him.
A strong medicinal smell escaped from inside.
"Use it on your ribs and shoulder," his father said.
"It's nothing serious."
"I didn't say it was."
There was no anger in his voice, and he didn't seem to be demanding an explanation either.
Somehow, that made Lin Mo Chen even more uncomfortable.
He looked down at the bottle. His father must have noticed the injuries the moment he entered the kitchen.
Considering how long he had known the original Lin Mo Chen, he could probably read him better than Lin Mo Chen could read himself.
"Some men tried to rob me in the city," he admitted at last. "I managed to get away before things got worse."
For a few seconds, only the soft crackling of the brazier could be heard. His mother froze, worry appearing immediately on her face, but before she could come closer, his father's calm voice stopped her.
"How many?"
"Three."
"Were they stronger than you?"
Lin Mo Chen nodded, slightly embarrassed. His father lifted his tea and took a sip as though he had just heard something perfectly ordinary.
"Then you did the right thing by running."
Lin Mo Chen couldn't hide his surprise. He had expected to be scolded for being weak, questioned about why he had gotten himself into trouble, maybe even given some solemn speech about the honor of the Lin Family.
Instead, his father set down the cup and pointed toward the medicinal bottle.
"There's no shame in surviving against someone stronger. Hiding your injuries and letting them get worse is stupidity."
Lin Mo Chen didn't know what to say.
He understood exactly what his father meant. After all, he had read about more than one character dying because they had done precisely that.
His mother came over immediately and began checking him with obvious concern. Lin Mo Chen had to reassure her several times that the wounds were superficial and that family guards had arrived before things became worse.
Naturally, he left out the part where he had blown up a spirit core in the middle of the street.
He also left out Huo Can, the Spirit Patterns, and the beast blood.
The less his parents knew about all of it, the less danger they would be in if someone started looking into his new technique.
While his mother continued checking for injuries he might have hidden, his father watched him with an expression Lin Mo Chen couldn't quite read.
"You advanced in cultivation," he said suddenly.
Lin Mo Chen's heart jumped.
Apparently, hiding anything from his father was going to be almost impossible.
"It happened this morning... I felt like I had gathered enough Huan Qi, and before I knew it, I broke through the bottleneck."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
It just left out the most important part.
A slight change passed through his father's eyes. Surprise, maybe even a little pride, though neither emotion clearly reached his face.
"Your Huan Qi feels different."
Lin Mo Chen tightened his grip on the chopsticks and tried to stay calm.
"It must be because of the breakthrough. I'm still getting used to it."
For several seconds, they held each other's gaze.
His father could have kept asking questions. With cultivation at the peak of the First Ring, he could probably tell that the difference went beyond a simple change in Lin Mo Chen's breathing.
In the end, however, he only nodded.
"As long as you don't destroy your channels or Qi core by rushing."
Lin Mo Chen lowered his gaze toward breakfast, feeling both relieved and guilty.
His parents had handed over their savings without asking for anything in return, trusting him to use the resources carefully.
In less than a month, he had spent almost all the money, bought a possessed pendant, and caused an explosion in the middle of the city.
On top of that, he had allowed a mysterious spirit to carve patterns made from beast blood into his body.
Maybe it really was better if they didn't know the details.
After breakfast, Lin Mo Chen returned to his room and applied the ointment to his injuries. A pleasant coolness spread across the bruised areas, slowly reducing the swelling.
Huo Can remained silent.
At first, Lin Mo Chen enjoyed the peace. Going several hours without hearing mockery inside his head was strangely relaxing.
As time passed, though, it started to feel uncomfortable.
Several times, he touched the pendant just to make sure Huo Can was still there. There was no response, but the faint warmth coming from inside confirmed that he hadn't disappeared.
He probably needed time to recover the energy spent creating the Spirit Patterns.
Without Huo Can's advice, Lin Mo Chen spent the rest of the morning resting. Once the pain had faded enough, he went out into the small backyard.
General Fatty followed and eventually settled on top of a rock, watching him with the solemn expression of a veteran instructor.
Lin Mo Chen ignored her and started his usual routine, wanting to test the changes in his body.
Thanks to the breakthrough, his movements felt lighter. Huan Qi responded more easily when he guided it into his muscles, while the Spirit Patterns stabilized the energy before it reached his limbs.
Every punch carried a little more force, and every step came a little faster. Satisfied with the difference, Lin Mo Chen placed one of the wooden training posts in front of him.
During the ambush, he had managed to strike the injured shoulder of one of his attackers, but only because Huo Can had guided him and the man had let his guard down.
This time, he wanted to see how much he had actually improved.
Lin Mo Chen clenched his fist and gathered Huan Qi into his right arm before punching the post with everything he had.
A dry crack echoed through the courtyard.
Lin Mo Chen stumbled backward, clutching his hand against his chest. The post had only gained a small mark, while his knuckles were already turning red.
General Fatty clucked.
"The post is harder than it looks."
Another cluck answered from the rock.
"Don't start with me. Clearly, this is the post's fault. Why does it need to be this hard?"
Despite his excuses, Lin Mo Chen frowned.
Maybe he had gathered too much energy into his arm without knowing how to distribute it properly.
He tried again, this time using less Huan Qi. The result was slightly better, though the punch was still clumsy and lacked any real power.
Then he tried a kick.
His foot struck too low, and his weight shifted forward, forcing him to take two hurried steps to keep from falling flat on his face.
General Fatty clucked so loudly that several birds answered from the neighboring courtyards.
Lin Mo Chen straightened, his face slightly red.
"Not a word."
With both hands resting on his knees, he remained there for a moment catching his breath while staring at the post.
Little by little, his expression changed.
For all these months, he had only been thinking about advancing.
Condense the fifth fragment. Get pills. Find beast blood. Practice Huo Can's technique. Reach the ninth level before the coming-of-age ceremony.
He had never stopped to think about what he would do once his cultivation actually increased.
In the novels from his previous life, protagonists seemed to learn how to fight almost automatically. All they needed was a powerful technique, a few days of practice, and a couple of enemies before they were somehow throwing out moves capable of shattering rocks and knocking down trees.
Reality had turned out to be a little different.
When those three men surrounded him, Lin Mo Chen had barely managed to avoid their first attacks.
He didn't even know how to take a proper stance or protect his vital points, much less control Huan Qi in the middle of a fight without losing his balance.
He had survived through a combination of luck and... more luck.
None of that meant he actually knew how to fight.
Lin Mo Chen searched through the memories of the original owner of the body, but all he found were a few basic physical exercises every young member of the clan learned as a child.
There were no combat Huan Techniques, nothing that taught him how to turn Huan Qi into actual fighting power.
Unlike cultivation techniques, Huan Techniques taught cultivators how to use Huan Qi directly in battle. Some strengthened the body, others concentrated energy into attacks, while certain techniques focused on defense or increasing movement speed.
Even a low-level Huan Technique could greatly increase a cultivator's combat ability.
Lin Mo Chen didn't know a single one.
He had never shown any interest in learning them either.
Convinced he would live a quiet life, he had focused entirely on cultivation and staying as far away from conflict as possible.
Yesterday had shown him exactly what that decision was worth.
Knowing an enemy's weakness didn't help much if his body had no idea how to exploit it.
Having more Huan Qi didn't guarantee he knew how to use it either.
A person could fill an entire warehouse with weapons and still be completely helpless if they didn't know how to hold a single one.
Lin Mo Chen looked back at the wooden post.
His knuckles still hurt, and his right wrist was beginning to swell.
A bitter expression crossed his face.
He had found a way to partially solve the problem of his terrible talent and had finally reached the fifth level of Ling Qi.
And yet, against a real opponent, he barely knew how to throw a punch without hurting his own hand.
Lin Mo Chen let out a long sigh as he looked at his reddened fingers.
The irony was almost funny.
He had partially solved the problem of his trash talent, only to discover another one just as obvious.
He still fought like a complete beginner.