Death God: Starting from Refining Essence into Qi

For a whole month, Xuan had been repeating the same routine of Yi Jin Jing and Lian Qi.

The pain persisted, but he had grown accustomed to it, as if it were a constant, everyday occurrence, like breathing.

Tomorrow, he will enter the family school.

In this month, a thousand days have not come again.

The sun was already setting in the west.

The clouds on the horizon burned into a brilliant golden-red, casting a warm hue over the courtyard.

The half-dead cherry tree cast a long shadow in the twilight—half of its branches were completely dead, the bark peeling away to reveal a dry, pale interior; while on the other half, a few late-blooming cherry blossoms stubbornly bloomed, their pink and white petals trembling gently in the evening breeze, as if they might shatter at any moment, yet stubbornly refusing to fall.

The courtyard gate was pushed open.

Xuan Gang had just finished his Qi refining for the day and was sitting by the stone table adjusting his breathing.

He looked up and saw Senji standing in the sunset—a haori embroidered with the Shihōin family crest was draped over his shoulders, ink stains were on his cuffs, and his silver hair was slightly disheveled, clearly indicating that he had just come here after leaving a class.

"Yo." Chihiro walked into the courtyard, casually draping her haori over the stone table, her movements carrying the relief of someone who had just been relieved of a heavy burden. "I've finally made it—you're going to school tomorrow, and there are some things I need to tell you in person."

He sat down opposite Xuan, his golden pupils shining brightly in the twilight, yet with faint blue shadows beneath his eyes.

Xuan poured him a cup of water. Qianri took it, drank it all in one gulp, and let out a long sigh of relief.

"This past month," Xuan began, his voice calm, "has been very busy?"

"Busy?" Qianri twitched the corners of his mouth, his smile showing both exhaustion and self-deprecation. "The etiquette instructor wanted to cram all the thousand-year-old rules of the nobility into my head, the management class had to keep track of the accounts and flow of thirty-seven family businesses, and the people identification class had to analyze the resumes of twenty family members—not to mention the four hours of daily cultivation that I never missed."

The heir of the Shihouin family is placed on a high-speed track from the moment he opens his eyes, allowing no room for slackness.

The intricate procedures of aristocratic etiquette, lessons in managing family businesses, instruction in the art of recognizing and controlling people, and the essential skills of slashing, walking, and striking that one must master as the Grim Reaper.

He leaned back and looked at the darkening sky: "Sometimes I really envy you, Xuan. At least you can concentrate on doing one thing."

The courtyard suddenly fell silent.

The cries of returning birds drifted from afar, and the evening breeze rustled through the cherry trees, causing a few petals to fall silently, tracing pale arcs in the twilight.

"Why?" Xuan asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for so long. "I'm just an orphan from a branch family, with mediocre talent, and my parents are dead. I'm practically worthless to the family. Why are you putting so much effort into this?"

Qianri stood up, walked to the half-withered cherry tree, and reached out to touch the dry, cracked bark. As dusk deepened, his figure became somewhat blurry in the twilight.

"It was a flaw in the family's defenses that allowed the Great Hollow to infiltrate." Qianri's voice carried an unusual heaviness.

"The main family cannot escape blame. I didn't know the specifics at first, I only heard that a couple from the branch family died in battle, leaving behind a child in a coma. The family provided the most basic care as usual—a room and some food every day to keep the child alive."

Qianri paused, then turned to Xuan: "Later, I happened to pass by here and saw you sitting alone in the house. You had just woken up not long ago, right? Your face was pale, and you sat there like a porcelain doll that might break at any moment."

"But your eyes..." Qianri's eyes were blank, as if recalling something. "There was no confusion, no crying in your eyes, only a kind of... cold clarity. At that moment, I suddenly understood—the so-called 'compensation' given by the family was utterly insignificant compared to what you had lost."

Xuan's breath hitched slightly.

"So I changed your servant," Chihiro continued, "and had Hōsuke, who swore allegiance to me, take care of you. This is my personal way of making amends for my neglect of the family."

Dusk deepened. The golden-red hues on the horizon began to fade, turning into deep purple shadows that spread across the sky like splashed ink.

"Secondly," Qianri's smile softened, "it's your attitude."

"manner?"

"Others, knowing I'm the future head of the family, are either arrogant at first but obsequious later, or trembling with fear," Qianri said, a faint hint of melancholy in his voice.

"Only you addressed me as 'you' from beginning to end. And Sosuke told me—that you privately treated me like an 'older brother'."

Xuan was stunned.

He did indeed consider Chihiro as "someone he needed to rely on at this stage" in his heart, and calling Chihiro "big brother" in front of Sosuke was also a matter of weighing the pros and cons - taking advantage of his age and pretending to be naive to gain benefits.

But Qianri seems to have taken it seriously.

"I was raised to be the 'future head of the family' from a young age." Qianri's tone was very indifferent, as if it might dissipate in the evening breeze at any moment.

"No one my age dares to treat me as an equal, and the elders only have expectations and scrutiny of me. I can't even tell whether 'I' am Shihouin Senri or 'the future head of the Shihouin family'."

"Sometimes I wonder, if I had been born into a family that split up, would my life have been easier?"

Qianri shook his head, as if trying to shake off the thought, his smile returning to its bright form: "Anyway, since you treat me like an older brother, how can I not protect my younger brother?"

After saying that, he burst into laughter.

Laughter echoed in the twilight, hearty and unrestrained, startling the night crows perched on the treetops outside the courtyard wall. The black birds fluttered into the air, tracing chaotic paths across the darkening sky.

Xuan looked at Qian Rixiao.

Looking at this seemingly radiant future head of the family who should have everything, he now smiles like an ordinary teenager who has found a friend.

Even if this "friend" is only in his own mind, even if this "friend" looks only a few years old.

Xuan's subconscious had always been coldly resistant to this strange world full of crises, but at this moment it was touched by sincere emotions.

It turns out that even this caring boy can feel lonely and long for equal treatment.

Qianri waved his hand, sat up straight again, and his expression became serious: "Alright, let's get down to business."

"The school you'll be attending tomorrow is officially called 'Seireitei South Training Institute,' but everyone calls it the Family School. Although it's located on the Shihouin clan's land and is run by the main family, the students aren't just from the Shihouin family."

Xuan listened quietly.

"Besides the main family of Shihouin, there are mainly two types," Chihi said.

"First, the noble families like the Bee Family and the Ōmaeda Family, who are dependent on the main family."

"Secondly, the Ise family, which is a lineage of priests."

"They specialize in rituals and sealing techniques, have unique skills in sensing and manipulating spiritual energy, and have always maintained a friendly relationship with the main family."

He tapped his fingers lightly on the stone table, his voice low: "The academy isn't just a place to study. You're there to become stronger. You can focus on cultivation, or make friends, but don't get too involved."

Xuan nodded: "I understand."

"Then there's the matter of cultivation." Qianri's tone became even more serious. "The 'Ghost Path' you're researching, Zongsuke told me about it."

Chihiro looked directly into Gen's eyes: "Let me ask you first—do you think this kind of technique can become widespread among the Grim Reapers?"

Xuan, of course, knew the important role of the Kido in the battles of the Shinigami, and replied, "The basic Kido is very simple, and most Shinigami can master it. If more advanced Kido is developed, it may require a higher level of control over spiritual power."

A sharp glint flashed in Qianri's eyes. "So I need you to promise me one thing—suspend the research. At least until you are able to protect yourself, don't go any further."

"Now is not the time." Qianri's voice turned somber, each word striking the silent twilight.

"The situation in Soul Society is becoming turbulent again. Not only are the nobles of Seireitei on the rise, but friction between the nobles of Rukongai is also intensifying. As one of the five great noble families, the Shihouin family is already in the eye of the storm."

Qianri leaned forward, his voice low: "Something that could potentially overturn the existing combat system will attract countless covetous eyes once exposed. Some will want to win you over, some will want to control you, and some will even want to eliminate you before you grow stronger."

The courtyard was pitch black, with only distant lights casting a faint glow that illuminated their pupils.

"Xuan, you are a genius." Qianri's voice was exceptionally clear in the darkness, each word striking Xuan's heart. "But a genius needs to live long enough to realize their talent."

A long silence.

In the silence, Xuan could hear his own heartbeat and the night wind rustling through the withered branches.

He understood the meaning of "a thousand days," he understood it completely.

Kido—this power system suitable for the vast majority of Shinigami—once it appears in the world, other noble families will never sit idly by and watch the Shihouin family's strength surge.

Xuan is too weak now, so weak that he can't even cause a ripple.

"Okay." Xuan finally nodded, his voice calm. "I promise you."

Even though Qianri didn't specifically mention it, after trying the Ghost Path before, Xuan had already made up his mind to stop cultivating the Ghost Path.

Qianri seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Once you've established yourself in the academy, once you're strong enough to deter those nobles from causing trouble—"

"At that time, the Shihouin family will fully support you."

After saying that, Qianri took out a token and handed it to Xuan.

It was cool to the touch and heavy—the edges had subtle but steady spiritual pressure fluctuations, clearly indicating that it was a specially made item that could not be imitated.

The token had a cold, hard sheen in the dim light, and the Shihōin family crest was engraved on both sides.

"The academy has a library, but the upper levels are generally only open to teachers," Qianri said. "With this token, you can freely enter and exit all areas, which should be helpful to you—if you want to continue studying the structure of spirit particles and the fine manipulation of spirit power after class."

Xuan gripped the token tightly. The icy touch spread from his palm, yet it made his thoughts exceptionally clear.

This token is not simply a pass for passage. It signifies authority, trust, and that Qianri truly considered Xuan's needs and sought ways to provide assistance.

"Tomorrow at the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), Zongzhu will take you to the academy." Qianri stood up. "No one as young as you usually goes to the academy, so people might gossip. Don't worry about it. Just focus on what you need to do—cultivate, study, and become stronger."

He walked to the door, then turned back. In the darkness, his golden eyes shone like two flames.

"Go to bed early, it's a two-night walk from here to the school."

Xuan Ying descended, and Qian Ri pushed open the door and left.

The footsteps faded into the night, eventually disappearing completely into darkness.

Xuan sat alone in the dark courtyard.

He held the token, his fingertips tracing the clan emblem on it again and again. The cold touch spread along his fingers, yet it made his thoughts clearer and calmer.

For the past month, his attitude toward Qianri has remained at the most pragmatic level—a powerful ally to cling to, a channel to acquire resources, and the optimal solution at this stage.

He calculated the benefits, weighed the gains and losses, and planned how to make the most of the relationship while carefully hiding his secrets, maintaining a safe distance, and burying himself in his cultivation.

Just like playing chess, calmly plan your moves and carefully place your pieces.

But the words Qianri spoke tonight—about responsibility, about loneliness, about "elder brother and younger brother," about the pressure beneath the nonchalance—were like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, rippling across Xuan's heart.

Xuan is not a heartless person.

In his previous life, he lived in a Taoist temple. Although his master was strict, he treated him sincerely and would tuck him in on cold winter nights. Although his fellow disciples often fought together, they would also apply ointment to each other when they were injured.

Xuan understands what kindness, concern, and pure emotion are.

However, since his transmigration, the pressure to survive, the wariness of this unfamiliar world, and the constant pain and tearing sensation have forced him to wear a cold mask, treating everyone and everything as calculable variables and emotions as weaknesses that need to be guarded against.

But now, someone has torn off that mask.

Tell him in the most direct way: I care about you, not because of any benefits you can bring, not because of your talent, but because you don't use honorifics like "you" when you talk to me, and because you call me "big brother".

This long-awaited warmth came unexpectedly, leaving Xuan at a loss for words.

He suddenly felt sorry for Senji. This boy, destined for high position and power, who would stand at the pinnacle of Soul Society, didn't even have a friend he could be on equal footing with, so much so that he had to find a four or five-year-old child—an orphan from a branch family—to fill that loneliness.

Night had fallen. The Soul Society's night sky, free from air pollution, was adorned with countless glittering stars.

"I need to borrow the light of a thousand days," Xuan said softly, his voice drifting in the night breeze.

A few months ago, this was a cold survival strategy—to obtain protection by using the identity of a thousand days.

But now, there's an added layer of meaning—

He didn't want to let that boy's loneliness go to waste.

Xuan walked back into the house.

After all, the nights in the month of Mao are still quite cold.

Tomorrow, he will step into a completely new world.

There was competition there, and subtle political games among the sons of nobles.

There you will find knowledge and a path to becoming stronger.

On this path, he was no longer alone.

Xuan lay down and closed his eyes.

In the darkness, the feeling of being torn apart surged like a tide, wave after wave, without end.

But Xuan simply endured it calmly, slowly drifting into sleep amidst the pain.

On the edge of his dream, he saw the trees in the yard again—

Half of it was withered and decayed, its branches like bones.

Half of it is lush and green, with fallen flowers like snow.

Under the tree, the silver-haired boy turned around, his golden pupils shining like the dawn in his dream.

He smiled at Xuan.

That smile contained loneliness, responsibility, and a rare, genuine warmth.