Chapter 5: Chapter 5 : The Path Begins
Morning came with a cool breeze. Ethan woke before sunrise. That wasn’t unusual.
The original owner of this body had always risen early to earn enough to eat. Those memories remained, and after only a few days, Ethan had naturally fallen into the same routine.
He stepped outside with a bucket. The village was still quiet. Only a few houses had smoke rising from their chimneys. As he walked toward the well, he noticed something.
The tracks left by yesterday’s visitors were still visible on the dirt road. Five sets of footprints. Leading toward the mountains. He stood there for a few moments before continuing. Footprints disappeared. Roads remained. One day, he would walk that same road, but not today.
After finishing his chores, Ethan picked up his axe and headed for the forest. The path was familiar now. Morning dew covered the grass, soaking the edges of his trousers.
Birds flew from tree to tree. Everything seemed peaceful. Yet Ethan wasn’t looking at the trees. His eyes wandered over the ground. Broken branches, animal tracks and fresh footprints. He quietly compared them.
The original Ethan had entered these woods for years. Without realising it, his body had already learned many small things. Which trails were safe. Which places wild boars often appeared. Where people usually gathered firewood. Those instincts were still there.
"They’re useful,"
Ethan murmured.
Knowledge didn’t always come from books. Sometimes, it came from living.
He reached the same area where he had worked the previous day. Instead of swinging his axe immediately, he looked around. The trees here were already becoming sparse. If everyone kept cutting from the same place, Soon there would be nothing left. He turned and walked deeper into the forest. Not far, just far enough that the trees became thicker again. Only then did he begin working.
Thud.
Thud.
Crack.
His movements were still slow. But compared to yesterday. They were cleaner. He wasted less strength, he breathed more evenly. Even this weak body was slowly adapting. By midday, another pile of logs lay beside him.
Ethan sat on a fallen tree to rest. As he drank water from a small flask, voices drifted through the forest.
"Found anything?"
"No."
"We’ve searched since dawn."
"They said it landed somewhere around here."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He slowly lowered the flask. Three men emerged between the trees. None of them looked like villagers. Each carried a long blade, their clothes were dusty from travelling. One had a scar running across his cheek.
The three stopped after noticing Ethan.
"You."
The scarred man pointed at him.
"Have you seen anyone come through here?"
Ethan shook his head.
"No."
The man studied him for a few seconds. Then his eyes moved to the pile of firewood.
"A woodcutter."
He lost interest immediately.
"Let’s go."
The three men disappeared deeper into the forest. Only after they were completely gone did Ethan let out a quiet breath. He hadn’t lied. He truly hadn’t seen anyone.
But something had caught his attention, their hands. All three had rough palms, not from farming. Not from chopping wood. From using weapons for years. They also moved differently from ordinary people.
Balanced.
Alert.
Even while talking, they had unconsciously watched their surroundings.
"They’re not ordinary travellers."
He memorised their faces. Not because they had offended him. Simply because memories often became useful later. Then he returned to chopping wood. Curiosity had its place. Following strangers into the forest did not.
By the time Ethan returned to the village, the sun was already beginning to set. He sold the firewood as usual.
This time, the stout man looked genuinely surprised.
"You’ve been bringing back more every day."
Ethan smiled faintly.
"I’ve just been working harder."
The man laughed.
"If only every young man in this village thought like that."
He tossed Ethan four copper coins.
"Here."
"A little extra."
Ethan accepted them with both hands.
"Thank you."
He didn’t refuse, The extra coin wasn’t charity. It was payment for better work, there was no reason to reject it.
Instead of returning home immediately, Ethan walked toward the old bun seller. The elderly man looked up and smiled.
"The hardworking young man is back."
"The usual?"
Ethan nodded.
"And may I ask you something?"
The old man wrapped two warm buns in paper.
"If I know the answer."
Ethan thought carefully before speaking.
"I’ve heard people mention spiritual roots."
"What exactly are they?"
The old man chuckled.
"So you’ve started dreaming too?"
Ethan smiled but didn’t answer. The old man leaned against his cart.
"I’m no cultivator."
"Everything I know came from travellers."
"They say spiritual roots decide whether a person can gather the spiritual energy of heaven and earth."
"If you don’t have them."
He shrugged.
"You live an ordinary life."
"And if you do?"
The old man smiled.
"Then your life won’t be ordinary anymore."
That was all, no grand speech, no detailed explanation. Just a simple answer.
Ethan nodded.
"Thank you."
He paid for the buns and left. One answer. One more piece of the puzzle. Enough for today.
Night gradually fell. After eating, Ethan sat outside his small house. The village was peaceful. Somewhere nearby, an old couple chatted while preparing dinner. Children laughed before their parents called them inside. Crickets sang beneath the grass. Ethan looked toward the mountains again.
Yesterday.
They had felt distant.
Today.
They felt slightly closer. Not because he had moved. But because he had taken one small step. He now knew cultivation began with spiritual roots. It wasn’t much, but every journey started somewhere. He stood and returned indoors. Before lying down, he closed his eyes.
"Immortal Ring."
Silence.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I thought so."
He wasn’t disappointed. The Ring had already shown him its nature. It would never answer because he wanted it to. Only when he had earned the right. That was enough. He lay back on the wooden bed. Tomorrow, he would continue learning. Not by asking everyone he met. But by watching.
Listening.
Remembering.
The mountains had stood there for countless years. They weren’t going anywhere. Neither was his determination. With that thought, Ethan slowly fell asleep.
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