My room in the outer disciples' quarters was far nicer than someone of my cultivation level deserved. The perks of being from one of the five great clans, apparently. While other disciples crammed four to a room, I had a private space with a window, a writing desk, and enough floor space to practice forms without hitting the walls.

  The decorations, though, were absolutely bizarre.

  A ceremonial sword hung on the wall, its blade inscribed with the Cao clan's motto in ancient script. The scabbard alone was worth more than most outer disciples would see in a lifetime, decorated with jade inlays and gold filigree. Next to it hung ceremonial robes in deep blue silk with silver embroidery depicting soaring cranes and mountain peaks. A small shrine in the corner held incense burners and what looked like ancestral tablets.

  Why had the original Cao Chang brought these here?

  You didn't just casually pack ceremonial items for sect life. These were the kind of things you'd need for formal clan gatherings, succession ceremonies, or ritualized combat.

  I sifted through his memories, trying to understand, but came up mostly blank. The original owner of this body had grabbed these items in what seemed like anger or spite, stuffing them into storage rings with the same energy someone might pack their belongings after a bad breakup.

  Maybe there was some periodic ritual he was supposed to attend? Some clan obligation that required formal presentation? The memories were frustratingly vague on this point, like trying to remember why drunk-you made terrible decisions. All I got was a general sense of "I'll show them" and "they'll see" which wasn't particularly helpful.

  Well, at least they made nice decorations. The sword especially caught the lamplight beautifully.

  I approached the window to close the curtains for the night when something stopped me cold.

  Down at the base of the mountain, spread out like a constellation that had fallen to earth, was a city. Thousands of lights twinkled in organized patterns, lanterns and torches creating rivers of illumination through what must be massive streets.

  Clearwater City.

  The name surfaced from Cao Chang's memories along with the absolutely mind-boggling fact that he'd never once visited it. Not once. He'd been at the sect for over a year and had never thought to explore the massive settlement literally at their doorstep.

  My hands gripped the windowsill as my mind raced.

  Cultivators weren't the only source of knowledge in this world.

  Mortal scholars, merchants, craftsmen, they all had their own understanding of how things worked. They might not know about qi manipulation, but they knew about metallurgy, architecture, mathematics, and philosophy. They observed the world without the bias of cultivation, potentially noticing things that cultivators overlooked because they were too focused on spiritual energy.

  I was so excited that I barely slept that night.

  The next morning, I was at the sect gates before the sun had fully risen. The guards, two bored-looking inner disciples, barely glanced at my identity token before waving me through. Apparently, outer disciples were free to come and go as long as they didn't miss mandatory duties.

  The descent down the mountain was a journey through multiple climates. The sect sat above the tree line near the snow-capped mountains with thin air. As I descended, I passed through pine forests, then deciduous trees, then finally into the subtropical warmth where Clearwater City sprawled across the valley floor.

  The smell hit me first. Cooking oil, incense, animals, people, spices I couldn't identify, fermentation, flowers, and a hundred other scents all competing for attention.

  Then came the sounds. Hawkers calling their wares, wheels on cobblestones, hammering from a dozen workshops, children laughing, adults haggling, music from at least three different sources.

  The city was impossibly vast. The main street alone was wider than any highway I'd seen on Earth, and it was packed with people. Merchants with carts full of exotic goods, farmers bringing produce from the countryside, travelers in foreign dress, and everywhere the constant flow of life. Side streets branched off like capillaries, each leading to different districts.

  I wandered in a state of delighted overwhelm, trying to absorb everything at once. Here was a tea shop where old men played a board game that looked like Go but with different rules. There was a street of tailors, silk in every color imaginable hanging from displays. An entire section devoted to metalworking, the ring of hammers on anvils sounded like war drums.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  But it was the book market that stopped me in my tracks.

  Dozens of stalls and shops, all selling written works. Histories, philosophies, technical manuals, fiction, poetry, accounts of foreign lands. My Earth-born soul wanted to fall down onto my knees and weep with joy.

  In fact, that's exactly what I did. It was embarrassing and I got plenty of stares, but I had no shame.

  After I stood up and wiped away my tears, I approached one stall that seemed particularly well-stocked. The shopkeeper was an elderly man with ink-stained fingers, the mark of a diligent scribe. Beside him sat a young woman about my age, carefully repairing a damaged binding.

  "Good morning, honored shopkeepers," I said, giving a polite bow that seemed to amuse the old man.

  "Just Shi will do, young master," he replied, though not unkindly. "Looking for anything in particular?"

  Everything, I wanted to say.

  Instead, I browsed their selection like a kid in a candy shop.

  There. A tome titled "Chronicles of the Sunset Continent: A Complete Geographic Survey." Maps, descriptions of different regions, trade routes, political boundaries, this was exactly the kind of worldbuilding information I needed.

  Another book caught my eye: "The Seventeen Classical Forms of Mortal Combat" by someone called Master Zhang Wei. I picked it up, surprised by how light it was.

  "Excuse me," I asked, holding up the thin volume. "This seems incomplete?"

  The young woman looked up from her work, surprise flickering across her features. "You don't know Master Zhang Wei's work?"

  The shopkeeper leaned forward, interest sparking in his eyes. "Master Zhang created the Viper's Whip style. It's a martial art that attacks the meridians directly, disrupting qi flow without needing spiritual cultivation. Few cultivators have ever mastered it because it requires understanding of anatomy that most consider beneath them."

  "This is just a small portion of volume one," the woman added. "The complete work spans twenty volumes scattered all across the continent. Even this fragment is quite valuable."

  Twenty volumes of martial arts that worked on anatomical principles? This was exactly the kind of approach I was looking for.

  "How much for both books?" I asked, reaching for my money pouch, only to find it embarrassingly empty.

  The original Cao Chang apparently never carried money, probably because he'd always just taken what he wanted through intimidation.

  I tried offering some of my leftover herbs, but the shopkeeper shook his head. "Those are common varieties, young master. Worth perhaps a few copper coins, but these books are priced in silver."

  Think, think.

  Then I remembered the ceremonial sword hanging uselessly on my wall. "I have a ceremonial sword I could trade. It's from my clan's collection, and it should be quite valuable."

  The shopkeeper's expression turned skeptical. "Young master, I don't mean to be rude, but many claim to have valuable items."

  "I'm Cao Chang," I said, then added reluctantly, "from the Cao clan. One of the five great clans. I'm sure my sword will be plenty valuable to you."

  The transformation was immediate and uncomfortable. Both the shopkeeper and his daughter immediately dipped their heads in deep bows.

  "Please excuse our ignorance, Young Master Cao! We had no idea! Please, take whatever books you wish, no payment necessary!"

  "I don't want special treatment," I protested, but the shopkeeper looked genuinely distressed.

  "Young Master, if word spread that we denied proper reverence to an heir of the five great clans, we would be ruined. Other merchants would refuse to trade with us. Please, it would be our honor to gift these to you."

  I wanted to argue, to insist on fair trade, but then I thought about it differently.

  In my previous life, I'd been middle class, nobody special. But if I'd been born a prince and a merchant offered me free goods out of respect for my position, would refusing actually help anyone? It might even insult them, suggesting their gift wasn't worthy.

  This was my position in this world. Not using it appropriately would be like a CEO pretending to be an intern. It would just make everyone uncomfortable and confused.

  "Thank you for your generosity," I said formally, taking the books with a proper bow of acknowledgment. "Your shop has earned the Cao clan's appreciation."

  The relief on their faces was palpable. I tucked the books carefully into my pouch. The martial arts manual might only be a dozen pages, but it was a start.

  The walk back up the mountain took longer than the descent, partly because I kept stopping to flip through the geography book, marveling at the scale of this world. The Sunset Continent alone was larger than Earth itself, and it was just one of four known continents.

  I was so absorbed that I almost missed a figure descending the steps toward me.

  "Cao Chang?" The voice spoke in a surprised tone.

  Memory clicked into place as I looked at her. My cousin, the one at Body Tempering Stage Three. What was her name again?

  She wore the silver-trimmed robes of a senior outer disciple, probably just one breakthrough away from the inner sect. She was pretty in the way a Venus flytrap was, sharp features and dark eyes, the Cao clan characteristics.

  Her name still wouldn't come to me, buried somewhere in the original owner's resentment-clouded memories.

  "Cousin," I said with a polite nod, continuing up the steps.

  "Wait," she called after me. "What were you doing in the city? You never leave the sect grounds."

  "Research," I replied without stopping. "I hope you enjoy your time in the city. It's really beautiful!"

  I could feel her stare burning into my back as I climbed, probably trying to figure out what kind of trouble I was planning.

  Let her wonder.

  I had seventeen pages of meridian-attacking martial arts to decode and an entire continent's worth of geography to memorize. If I wanted to reach Body Tempering Stage Three like her, or beyond, I needed every advantage I could get.

  Traditional cultivation was all well and good, but if I could combine it with martial arts that worked on physical principles, medicines designed through systematic testing, and knowledge gained from mortal scholarship, then maybe I could create something entirely new.

  The possibilities were endless, and I couldn't wait to begin testing them all.