Chapter 11: Flame-less Cultivation, The First Transformation

Lin Jin remained alone in the wastes.

The wind blew endlessly, day and night.

No Flame energy nourished him, no blessings of heaven or earth.

To a Flame Practitioner, this was the least suitable place for cultivation.

But to Lin Jin—
It was just right.

He sat cross-legged.

Not in a Flame Practitioner’s posture.
Not in any meditation pose passed down by any sect.

Simply allowing his body to return to its most natural balance.

His breathing began to slow.

No guidance.
No circulation of energy.
Just inhale, exhale.

But as his breath deepened, he gradually noticed something—

The air entering his body did not “disappear.”

It left a trace inside him.

Not energy.

But—
Presence.

When cultivating Flame, the world was “for use.”

Flame energy, Flame veins, Flame techniques—they were all tools.

But now.

The world began to “respond.”

When the wind brushed his skin, he could sense the direction of its pressure.
Vibrations through the ground told him distance and weight.
Even the flow of time became clear.

Not faster.
But more precise.

“So that’s it.”

Lin Jin opened his eyes.

He finally understood—
Flame Practitioners borrowed the world.
He, now, stood within it.

The first transformation came at night.

The wastes were cold.

Lin Jin had no Flame energy shielding him.

Yet he did not feel cold.

Not because of adaptation.
But because his body had begun to adjust automatically.

Skin tightened slightly, blood flow changed, breathing slowed.

A process no Flame Practitioner would ever experience.

For Flame had always done everything for them.

But now.

His body was learning once again how to live.

On the morning of the third day, Lin Jin rose to his feet.

He did not feel a surge of power.

Yet he could sense clearly—
His body felt “truer” than the day before.

He raised a hand and lightly threw a punch.

No sound of air splitting.
No shockwave.

But the instant his fist stopped, a subtle crack appeared on a rock several meters ahead.

Not shattered.

But unable to bear the fact that he existed here.

Lin Jin frowned slightly.

Then slowly withdrew his hand.

“So this… is Flame-less power?”

No.

He denied that description.

This was not power.

This was—
Stability.

Deep in the wastes, a wild beast stirred.

It had no Flame core, no Flame veins.

Surviving purely on instinct and muscle, it locked onto Lin Jin.

No hesitation.
No probing.
It charged straight forward.

This was the first time Lin Jin faced a true threat without Flame.

He did not retreat.
Did not gather strength.
He simply stepped forward.

The moment the beast collided—

Lin Jin sidestepped, raised his hand, and pressed it against its skull.

The motion was light.
Not a trace of force.

The next instant.

The beast’s body froze.

Not dead.

Its structure had collapsed.

Bones misaligned, muscles uncoordinated, neural feedback delayed.

It fell, still alive.
But could never rise again.

Lin Jin withdrew his hand, his breathing slightly faster.

Not from exertion.

But from—
The first active intervention in “life structure.”

He realized something.

The essence of Flame-less cultivation was not explosion.
But understanding and intervention.

At dusk, Lin Jin sat cross-legged again.

This time, he did not close his eyes.

He looked inward.

The Flame veins within his body had collapsed.

Yet in the places where they once were, a new kind of “channel” appeared.

Not a conduit of energy.

But—
A shortcut for perception and response.

They did not transmit power.
Only one message:

I am here.

The moment this “sense of presence” spread through his body—

Lin Jin’s heart skipped a beat.

Not danger.

But—
The first transformation was complete.

Far at the center of the Flame Domain,

the Flame Order arrays trembled violently.

The gray line suddenly shifted.

It was no longer a single marker.

It had begun to… grow.

Several Flame Sovereigns opened their eyes simultaneously.

“He… has changed.”

“The Flame Domain’s influence over him is weakening.”

One Sovereign’s voice was deep.

“If this continues—”

“We will be unable to predict him.”

This time, no one argued.

On the wastes,

Lin Jin slowly opened his eyes.

The world had never felt so clear.

He rose to his feet.

His gaze passed over the barren land, toward the Flame Domain.

“This is only the beginning.”

“The next step—”

“I need to step out into the world.”