Rebirth of the primordial sovereign

Makoto stood beneath the vast night sky, his gaze fixed on the stars. They seemed dim compared to the blazing constellations of his past life. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of life from the sect grounds. The world felt smaller now—more fragile—but within him, a fire was beginning to stir.

He took a deep breath, centering himself. The first step was rebuilding his meridians. The body's internal pathways were shattered, the remnants fragile and unsteady. Yet, the foundation wasn't entirely gone. If there was even a fragment left, it could be repaired.

---

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, Makoto returned to his room. Yuna had arrived early, bringing with her a small satchel of herbs and a determined expression.

"These are the best I could gather," she said, spreading the contents across the table. "They're basic, but they'll help strengthen your body."

Makoto's eyes swept over the collection. To anyone else, these would seem insignificant—low-grade herbs often used by outer disciples for minor injuries. But Makoto's knowledge stretched far beyond that of this world. He could see the hidden potential within the herbs, the delicate balance of their energies.

"This will do," he said with a faint smile. "I'll prepare them myself."

Yuna blinked in surprise. "Do you even know how to—"

"Trust me," he interrupted gently, his tone carrying a confidence that left no room for doubt.

---

Makoto crushed the herbs with precision, using techniques forgotten by time. Each motion was deliberate, ensuring the energies within the plants didn't dissipate. He combined them with water heated to a precise temperature, creating a medicinal paste. The aroma was sharp yet soothing, a testament to his skill.

"This... smells different," Yuna observed, peering over his shoulder. "How did you—"

"Herbs are like people," Makoto explained. "Each has its own character. If you treat them right, they'll show their true potential."

Yuna tilted her head, clearly intrigued but choosing not to press further. She watched as he carefully applied the paste to his arms and legs, the mixture seeping into his skin. Almost immediately, a faint warmth spread through his body, alleviating the lingering aches.

--

The next phase of Makoto's plan was grueling: physical training. His body was weak, and his muscles screamed in protest at every movement. But he pushed forward, starting with basic exercises—small stretches, slow movements, and controlled breathing.

Every step was a battle. His limbs trembled, and his vision blurred with exhaustion, but he didn't stop. His past life had taught him the value of perseverance. Strength wasn't built in a day; it was forged through countless trials.

Yuna watched from the doorway, her expression a mix of admiration and concern. "You're going to collapse if you keep pushing like this."

Makoto paused, leaning against the wall for support. "Pain is temporary," he said, his voice steady. "Weakness is not."

Yuna didn't reply immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just... don't push yourself too hard, okay? You don't have to do this alone."

Makoto gave her a faint smile. "I know. But some battles are meant to be fought alone."

--

That night, as the sect quieted once more, Makoto returned to meditation. He sat cross-legged, his breathing steady as he focused inward. The medicinal paste had begun to repair the faint traces of his meridians, creating a fragile network of pathways within his body.

He reached into his dantian, searching for the flicker of energy he had felt before. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a tiny ember waiting to be kindled.

Makoto began the breathing technique again, this time with greater precision. Each inhale drew in the surrounding qi, and each exhale expelled impurities from his body. The process was slow, painstaking, but effective. The ember within him grew stronger, feeding on the energy he gathered.

Hours passed, and the room grew colder as dawn approached. But Makoto didn't stop. By the time the first light of morning seeped through the window, the ember had grown into a faint flame—a fragile but undeniable sign of progress.

-

When Yuna entered the room later that morning, she froze. Makoto's posture was straighter, his complexion healthier. The dullness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a glimmer of vitality.

"You..." she began, her voice faltering. "You look better."

Makoto opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "It's a start," he said simply.

Yuna approached cautiously, studying him. "Did you... manage to gather qi again?"

He nodded. "A small amount. It's not much, but it's enough to begin rebuilding my foundation."

Her eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and hope flickering across her face. "But how? Your meridians were—"

"Broken, not destroyed," Makoto interjected. "There's a difference."

Yuna stared at him for a long moment, then smiled. "You're unbelievable, Makoto."

He chuckled softly. "You'll see soon enough. This is just the beginning."

---

As the days passed, Makoto's progress continued. Each session of meditation strengthened his meridians, while the herbal mixtures accelerated his recovery. His body, though still weak, began to show signs of improvement.

But the path ahead was still long, and Makoto knew the sect wouldn't wait for him to catch up. Challenges loomed on the horizon, and the scars of the past threatened to resurface. Yet, as he stood beneath the stars that night, he felt a growing confidence.

The fire within him had been rekindled. And soon, it would burn bright enough to light the entire world.