Morning light crept into the cave, painting the walls with soft gold. Adam sat cross-legged where he had remained through the night, eyes closed, breathing even. Despite a full day of meditation, no breakthrough had come. His body had accepted the presence of energy, yes—but it was still too passive, too silent.
He exhaled, letting go of frustration.
This was only the beginning.
Adam followed the same routine in the days that followed. He woke at dawn, ate sparingly from his foraged supplies, drank from the cave's trickling spring, and returned to meditation. Each day, he tried again—sensing the energy around him, drawing it inward, and allowing his body to acclimate.
The results were slow. Agonizingly so.
But he didn't stop.
This was the path of cultivation—the slow, often unrewarding grind toward transformation. The book had warned him that the Nine Chaotic Worlds technique required not just talent, but obsession. The kind of resolve that could outlast weeks of silence, of stagnation, of pain.
Adam had that.
By the third day, the energy no longer stung when it entered his body. By the fifth, it moved more freely through his meridians, guided by subtle shifts of thought and breath. On the seventh day, something changed.
As he meditated beneath the crescent moonlight filtering through the crack in the cave ceiling, Adam's breathing slowed until it was imperceptible. His body shimmered faintly, as if absorbing light itself. Then, deep within his abdomen, a flicker of warmth bloomed—not in his core, but slightly off-center.
He felt it.
The first ripple of success.
The energy obeyed his will. It flowed where he directed, and gathered in a tiny whirlpool of motion. Not enough to form a full core yet—but it was real. Tangible. Controlled.
Adam opened his eyes. For the first time in a week, he smiled.
He had taken the first true step.
He began refining the gathered energy into his body, shaping it to meet the demands of the first realm: the Mortal Realm—Fán Jìng—the foundation of all cultivation.
---
The Mortal Realm: Foundation of the Cultivation Path
According to the ancient text, the Mortal Realm was divided into ten distinct layers, each representing an evolutionary leap in a human's physical and energetic capacity. Most people never reached it. Those who did often spent years just crawling through its early stages. But with the Nine Chaotic Worlds technique, Adam wouldn't be forming just one core. He would build nine, each with its own pathway through the Mortal Realm. And each would need to be refined independently.
For now, he focused on just one.
Layer 1: Flesh Tempering (锻肉 - Duàn Ròu)
This was where all began. The body had to be forged anew—muscles strengthened, tendons reinforced, every fiber of flesh baptized in energy. The goal was simple: to build a body that could handle more than what a human was meant to.
He followed the breathing methods described in the book. Inhale. Absorb. Compress. Release.
Each cycle of breath circulated energy deeper into his flesh. At first, it merely tickled. Then it stung. Then it burned. Adam endured, sweat dripping from his brow as his muscles twitched involuntarily, reacting to the foreign power seeping into them.
This wasn't painless.
But pain was a forge.
By the end of the second week, his limbs had grown heavier with power. His body no longer ached after hours of sitting. His strikes, even with a casual punch, carried weight and speed beyond what he had known before. He could leap higher, run faster, and lift rocks that once seemed immovable.
Still, it wasn't enough.
According to the technique, he had to temper his flesh nine times within this first layer before the body would be ready for the next.
---
Elsewhere… The World Begins to Move
While Adam hid in solitude, the outside world churned with activity.
In the capital city of Veylon, Lucian Alden stood at the heart of a gilded hall, surrounded by bounty hunters, mercenaries, and assassins. His eyes, sharp as blades, scanned the gathered crowd.
"A traitor to the guild," he announced, "and a thief of relics beyond value. I want Adam Carter found."
He raised a scroll, unrolling it before the assembly.
A bounty was stamped in crimson ink: 1 million coins . Dead or alive.
The reward sent ripples through the continent. Powerful individuals stirred from slumber. Hidden sects, desperate guilds, and lone killers all took interest. Adam's name became a whisper on every hunter's lips.
Across cities and wilderness, search parties were dispatched. Surveillance runes were activated. Portals flickered with travelers on the hunt.
Lucian smiled.
The world would turn over every stone, every ruin, every corner of the continent.
Adam could not hide forever.
---
Mia Carter stood alone on a quiet rooftop, moonlight dancing across her silver eyes.
Despite her outward calm, her mind raced.
She had tried—bribed officials, traced the last known movements of the expedition, even infiltrated the guild's secured records. But no matter where she looked, the details were vague. Redacted. Twisted.
Lucian was hiding something.
The only consistent truth was this: Adam had vanished. And a powerful treasure had gone missing.
Mia's guild members had advised her to stay out of it—to protect her identity and avoid provoking Lucian. But she couldn't. Adam was more than just a brother. He was family. And if anyone could uncover the truth behind the betrayal, it was her.
"I'll find you," she whispered into the night.
"Whatever it takes."
---
Far from the chaos, in a humble herbalist shop nestled in the city, Eleanor Carter crushed a mix of sunberry leaves and ironroot stem into a fine paste. The aroma of herbs filled the room.
But her mind was elsewhere.
She hadn't heard from Adam in weeks. And when the bounty appeared across cities, she knew something had gone wrong. Her hands trembled slightly—an unusual sight for someone known as the " Alchemist".
She had raised Adam to be curious, to seek truth—but never imagined it would place a target on his back.
Where are you, my son?
She turned back to her brewing table, adding a drop of phoenix blossom extract to a bubbling cauldron. A potion of recovery—but she had a feeling she would need more than healing soon.
Much more.
---
Back in the Cave
Adam's days passed with discipline. His nights were filled with silent cultivation. He trained not just his body, but his awareness—stretching his perception outward, feeling the ebb and flow of energy through stone, water, and air.
His first core—the beginning of his first chaotic world—began to take shape.
With each tempering cycle, his body adapted faster. His strikes could now fracture stone. His endurance grew to the point where he could run for hours without tiring. He no longer needed full meals to maintain his strength—just energy drawn from the environment.
The cave walls, once cold and uncaring, began to echo with the low hum of gathered essence.
He had reached the peak of Flesh Tempering.
Now came the next challenge: Bone Forging.
His body had to be reborn again—this time from within. Bones had to harden, marrow enriched with qi, structure reinforced to carry the growing load of energy that would follow.
But Adam didn't fear the pain. He welcomed it.
Each ache, each pressure inside his chest or limbs, was proof of change.
And change meant survival.
---
Adam's eyes opened once again. They were steady now—focused. A week ago, he had been on the run. Lost. Framed. Weak.
Now, he had taken the first step on the path that could defy fate itself.
The Nine Chaotic Worlds lay ahead.
And he had just begun to build the first.