LOST CULTIVATION METHODS

The morning sun shone weakly through the cracked roof tiles of the ruined manor.

Dust motes danced in the air, catching the light as Jin exhaled, lifting a heavy wooden staff from beneath the collapsed hallway beams.

His muscles flexed, veins slightly pulsing with the pressure of power too dense to be restrained.

"Feels like the damn thing weighs more than a spirit ox," he muttered, shifting the staff onto his back and brushing the sweat from his brow.

Behind him, Arielle and Sarah were sweeping out broken tiles and tossing shattered furniture into a growing heap.

Their clothes clung to their bodies from sweat, and their cheeks were dust-streaked but determined. The manor might have been a ruin, but it was theirs now.

Jin walked past Sarah and gave her a playful smack on the rear. She yelped, nearly dropping her broom, and spun around, cheeks turning red.

"Seriously?!" she scowled, though the corner of her lips twitched upward.

"Oops," Jin said with faux innocence. "Thought I saw a spider. Just saving your life. Hero stuff, you know."

He moved along, whistling a casual tune. As he passed Arielle, he reached out and gave her a light squeeze. She gasped, eyes wide.

"Jin!"

"Battle tactics," he said smoothly. "Testing your reflexes. You passed."

Arielle glared, eyes narrowed. "Keep testing and I'll teach you a counter-technique. It's called a kick to the groin."

"So feisty," he said with a grin, ducking away before she could retaliate.

Meanwhile, Lana was in the garden area, sleeves rolled up, hands dirt-stained as she examined the collapsed hedges and broken stone paths.

"We'll need a new roof, proper seals, and at least three barrels of cleanser for this filth," she muttered to herself, completely unaware of Jin's antics.

Hours passed. They patched a few windows with broken wood, scrubbed the floors where the rot wasn't beyond hope, and found some surviving spirit lamps that Sarah carefully re-lit with a low-level spell.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Despite their hard work, the manor still felt like a haunted echo of what it had been—but one wing was now clean enough to sleep in without sharing the space with rats.

As the others rested in the shade of the courtyard, Jin wandered deeper into the western wing.

A portion of the wall had collapsed, revealing a narrow staircase hidden behind a damaged shelf. Curiosity stirred.

He followed it down, boots thudding softly on the dust-coated steps.

At the bottom was a door, swollen with moisture and warped with age. With a grunt, he forced it open.

The hinges screamed, but the door gave way, revealing a surprisingly intact library.

The air inside was thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and time.

Jin stepped inside, eyes wide. Rows of books lined the walls—some titles faded, others glowing faintly with preserved enchantments. Ancient tomes, scrolls, diagrams.

"Back at the castle, I was always the meathead," he muttered, running his fingers over the spine of a book titled Principles of Elemental Melding.

"Never touched books unless they had punching diagrams."

But his reincarnated self? That soul had been a scholar. A lover of knowledge.

There were treatises on cultivation theory, beast taming manuals, ancient political records, battle formations from fallen dynasties.

Jin's eyes gleamed with something between reverence and hunger.

"Looks like my evenings are booked," he said with a chuckle.

Just then, under a toppled chair and some broken tiles, something glinted. He knelt and brushed the debris aside, revealing a token made of aged bronze or copper, etched with the insignia of the Woods Royal Family.

A subtle warmth pulsed from it the moment he touched it, as though recognizing him.

His light mood vanished. He stared at it in silence for a long moment.

He walked back out into the daylight, footsteps measured.

Lana was pruning thorn bushes when he approached. She turned at the sound of his voice.

"Mother."

She saw the token and froze. Her eyes widened, and she slowly reached out to take it in her hands. Her fingers trembled.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, voice thin with emotion.

"In the library. Buried under the rubble."

Lana cupped the token gently, as if afraid it might vanish. Her eyes began to shimmer.

"This belonged to Lord Thorian... the City Lord of Valeria," she murmured.

"He was a dear friend of my father's. A man of wisdom and calm. He spent more time in the castle playing chess with the king than he did in his own home."

She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "If his token is here... then he's gone. He died defending this city."

Jin placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mother."

She gave a soft nod, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He would have stood to the very end. This city meant everything to him."

Jin raised the token to the light. The sigil shimmered faintly.

"Then I will carry on what he left behind. From this day forward, I am the City Lord of Valeria. This will be the cradle of my strength."

Just then, a commotion broke the quiet.

Clamoring footsteps echoed from beyond the city gates.

Jin and the girls rushed outside, weapons drawn, hearts pounding.

A ragged group of people stumbled down the road—wounded, starving, torn and bruised.

Some clutched makeshift spears. Others were barefoot.

Jin's eyes narrowed, muscles tensing.

Then Lana gasped, her dagger clattering to the stones.

"Lila?"

One of the women in the group raised her head. Her eyes widened.

"Princess Lana?"

The two women ran to each other and embraced, weeping. The others lowered their weapons, sighing in relief.

They weren't enemies.

They were survivors.

Refugees who had once called this city home.

Arielle exhaled. Sarah smiled softly.

The ruined city... had begun to breathe again.

Far away, in the heart of the kingdom, darkness swirled like ink on water.

The king lay upon his vast bed, his once-proud form now gaunt, hollow-cheeked, a mere shadow of the ruler he had been.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unmoving.

Footsteps approached.

The butler, a man who had served through three reigns, stood quietly at the king's side.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "What weighs upon your heart?"

The king's lips curled into a faint smile, though it held no joy.

"I'm just thinking," the king said, voice hoarse and dry, "how lucky I was to send her away. Lana. And the boy."

He paused.

"Had they remained here, they would have been nothing more than bodies in a shallow grave."

The butler hesitated, then nodded.

"The realm fractures, my lord. The princes rally the noble houses. There is blood in every corridor. The First Prince grows... bold."

The king's eyes did not blink.

"He's already killed one of his brothers. I knew he would try again."

"And you do nothing?" the butler asked softly.

"What is there to do?" the king whispered. "A beast cannot be tamed when you've raised it with blood."

He exhaled.

"Let them tear each other apart. Let the throne rot beneath their ambition. If there's to be a future... it's not here.

It's in the wilds. With my daughter. With the boy who carries the blood of both dragon and demon."

He closed his eyes. "Perhaps... he will build something better."

Elsewhere, within the cold elegance of the royal palace, Molana sat alone, surrounded by silence.

A document lay unfurled on the table before her. Its contents were damning—ledgers of bribes, lists of illicit dealings, signatures of nobles who thought themselves untouchable.

She dragged her crimson nail down the paper, a slow and calculated motion.

She smirked.

"They call me second queen. Forgotten. Disposable."

Her eyes gleamed.

"They forget I'm the one who holds the leash around their necks."

She rolled the scroll up slowly, tucking it into a case inlaid with jade.

The candles in the chamber flickered.

The room grew colder.

And the shadows of her ambition crept silently across the realm.