consciousness fading in and out, Li Zhan felt like he’d been run over by a truck. Twice. His throat was dry as dust, and every time he tried to open his eyes, a wave of exhaustion hit him like a physical blow. He was lying on a hard floor, the cool stone pressing into his back. He blinked, but the world only swam dimly.

gradually, shapes started to resolve. Li Zhan frowned as he recognized the surroundings—a dusty, dimly lit room with ancient furniture. This wasn’t his room. He’d always been in a luxurious, air-conditioned apartment, never in any place that smelled of old wood and neglect.

A cold sense of dread washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gather his thoughts. He was a man who’d been labeled 'fragile' since birth. Doctors had warned his parents to keep him away from any physical strain, and society had whispered behind his back that he’d amount to nothing. But he had endured. With years of willpower and discipline, he’d built up a reserve of 'yin qi'—an energy many dismissed as superstition but he’d come to rely on.