Chương 3: The Flowing Water

Cultivation World – The Grassy Plains Lia rolled onto her back, the soft grass cool against her neck. Above her, the sky was a piercing, impossible blue, dotted with clouds that looked like spun sugar. The air didn't just smell fresh; it smelled alive, thick with the scent of wildflowers and the crackling energy of qi. She lay there for a long moment, chest heaving, listening to the wind rustling through the trees.

Earth – Tim's Apartment Simultaneously, on a beige couch in Japan, Tim gasped, his entire body shuddering as if he'd just surfaced from deep water. He clutched the armrest, his knuckles white. The sensory input from Earth—the hum of his refrigerator, the smell of stale air—felt distant and muffled. The input from the other world was overwhelming. He could feel the grass itching Lia's skin. He could feel the residual adrenaline pumping through her veins like liquid fire.

"Alive," he whispered to the empty apartment.

"We're alive." The relief was short-lived. A wave of nausea rolled over him—a motion sickness so profound it felt like his brain was doing cartwheels inside his skull.

"Focus," he gritted out.

"Get her to safety. Then you can throw up." Cultivation World Lia sat up. Her body ached, a deep bone-weariness settling in now that the immediate threat of death was gone. But beneath the exhaustion, the power of the Foundation Establishment stage hummed like a generator.

"Okay," she whispered. The voice was still strange to her ears—soft and melodic.

"Home. We need to go home." She stood up. Or rather, she launched herself up. Tim, used to piloting a hundred-and-eighty-pound male body with bad knees, applied his usual amount of force to stand. Lia's body, refined by cosmic energy and lighter than a bird, responded explosively. She shot five feet into the air, her balance wild, and came down hard, stumbling forward to catch herself against a tree. The wood cracked under her grip.

"Whoa," Tim breathed on Earth, his head spinning. It was like driving a Ferrari with the sensitivity of a go-kart. Every movement was too fast, too strong. She took a step, trying to be gentle. This time, she didn't jump, but she moved with a stride that ate up the ground. She wasn't running; she was bounding, clearing ten feet with every casual lope. The wind roared in her ears, whipping her long black hair behind her like a banner. The Road to the Sect As Lia found her rhythm, the landscape began to change.

The wild forests gave way to cultivated land, and soon, a road appeared—paved not with asphalt, but with smooth, interlocking gray stones that seemed to repel the dirt. In the distance, a town nestled in the valley. From afar, it looked like something out of a period drama—curved tiled roofs, wooden pagodas, and red lanterns stringing the streets. But as Lia drew closer, slowing her pace to a fast walk to avoid suspicion, the "modern" elements revealed themselves.

The lanterns weren't burning oil; they were glowing with a steady, cool white light, powered by small, humming crystals embedded in their bases. To her left, a farmer was tending a rice paddy. He wasn't pushing a plow. He was walking behind a floating metal device that hovered a foot off the mud, glowing with faint blue runes as it tilled the earth automatically. The farmer held a wooden talisman in his hand, lazily directing the machine with flicks of his wrist.

"Magical technology," Tim murmured on Earth, watching through Lia's eyes with fascination. It wasn't the industrial machinery of Earth, nor was it pure magic. It was a fusion— qi used as electricity, formations used as circuitry. Lia walked through the outskirts of the town. A merchant cart rattled past her, but there was no horse pulling it. Instead, a wooden construct shaped like an ox trudged forward, its joints clicking rhythmically, eyes glowing with dull yellow gemstones.

She passed a tea shop where a young woman was heating water not with a fire, but by placing a kettle on a stone slab etched with red symbols that pulsed with heat. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It was a world trapped between the ancient and the futuristic. A group of children ran past Lia, chasing a glowing ball of light that zipped through the air like a drone. They stopped when they saw her, their eyes going wide at her red sect robes.

"Cultivator!" one whispered, and they quickly bowed, fear and reverence warring in their expressions. Lia nodded awkwardly and hurried on. She felt like an imposter in a costume. The Arrival The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and gold, when the Flowing Water Sect finally loomed ahead. It was breathtaking. Massive peaks pierced the clouds, and built into the mountainside was a sprawling complex of white stone and blue tiles.

Elegant buildings perched on impossible ledges, defying gravity. Waterfalls cascaded from floating islands suspended by massive iron chains, the mist catching the light. The air here was thick—richer than the air in the town. It tasted sweet, like ozone and rain. Lia approached the massive front gates. Two outer disciples stood guard, their spears glowing with faint blue light. Tim felt a spike of panic on Earth. Do I need a pass? A code?

But the guards took one look at her tattered red robes and the exhaustion etched on her face, and simply stepped aside, bowing low.

"Senior Sister," one murmured respectfully. Lia walked through, her heart hammering. She was in. She navigated the winding stone paths by instinct, letting Lia's fragmented memories guide her feet. She passed disciples practicing sword forms in a courtyard, their blades moving in perfect unison. She passed a pavilion where elders sat floating on cushions of air, debating philosophy. Every muscle in her body ached. The adrenaline crash was hitting her hard. She needed to find her room. She needed to hide.

"Disciple Lia, where are your manners?" The stern voice cut through her exhaustion like a whip. Lia froze. She turned slowly. Standing beside a meditation pool was an older woman with severe features and hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore the dark blue robes of an Elder. The pressure radiating from her was suffocating—a physical weight that pressed down on Lia's shoulders. Elder Cho, the memory supplied instantly. Teacher. Scary. Lia dropped into a deep bow, her body moving on autopilot.

"Ten thousand apologies, Elder Cho. This disciple was distracted and failed to show proper respect". Elder Cho's sharp eyes swept over Lia. She took in the torn robes, the dirt-streaked face, and the subtle tremble in Lia's legs. Her expression softened, just a fraction.

"You look like you've been through a meat grinder, child," she said, her voice grim.

"What happened out there? I sent a rescue team the moment we registered the rift. They found three other disciples dead at the entrance". Lia's stomach clenched. Dead. Just like she should have been.

"I... I was fortunate, Elder," Lia stammered. Elder Cho studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. It felt like she was x-raying Lia's soul. Tim held his breath on Earth, terrified she would see the intruder behind Lia's eyes. Finally, the Elder sighed.

"Go rest," she commanded.

"Clean yourself up. Eat. Report to my quarters tomorrow at dawn. We will discuss your... reckless curiosity then".

"Yes, Elder. Thank you."

"And Lia?" Lia paused.

"Pride has killed more promising disciples than any beast," Elder Cho warned. Lia nodded mutely and fled. The Sanctuary Lia's quarters were carved directly into the living rock of the mountain, a modest room with a window overlooking the mist-shrouded peaks. She stumbled inside and locked the heavy wooden door. Finally safe. Tim collapsed back onto his couch on Earth, letting out a groan of sympathy as Lia slumped onto her narrow bed. The dual exhaustion was crushing. But biology waited for no one.

Lia's bladder was screaming.

"Oh god," Tim muttered on Earth.

"Here we go." Lia dragged herself up and went into the small attached washroom. It was simple—a basin of water, a drain, and a traditional squat toilet porcelain set into the floor. Tim had used squat toilets in Japan before. He knew the mechanics. But doing it in a female body, wearing three layers of complex silk robes? It was a logistical nightmare.

"Okay," Lia whispered, hiking up the heavy fabric.

"Balance. Don't fall." The experience was... educational. And humiliating. And incredibly awkward. There was a moment of panic involving the sash, a near-miss with balance, and a lot of mental screaming from Tim.

"I thought peeing as a guy was complicated," he grumbled, his face burning on Earth even though no one was there to see him. When she was finally finished and rearranged, Lia moved to the basin to wash her face. She looked up. For the first time, she saw herself clearly. A large bronze mirror hung on the wall. The reflection staring back wasn't Tim. It was a stranger. She was stunning. Even with dirt smudged on her cheek and her hair in a tangled crow's nest, the face was breathtaking. Pale, flawless skin.

High cheekbones. Eyes of vivid, electric purple that seemed to glow in the dim light. Tim raised a hand on Earth. Lia raised a hand in the mirror. She touched her cheek. The skin was soft, cool.

"This is me," Lia whispered. It wasn't a video game avatar. It wasn't a dream. The reflection blinked when he blinked. The chest rose and fell with his breath. He looked down at her body— his body now. The curve of her hips, the weight of her chest, the delicate wrists. It was a masterpiece of biology, refined by cultivation into something perfect. And it was entirely his responsibility. A wave of vertigo hit him again, the two worlds spinning. He needed to sleep. He needed to turn it off.

Lia stumbled back to the bed. She didn't bother undressing further. She collapsed onto the mattress, pulling the thin blanket over her head. Within seconds, her breathing evened out. On Earth, Tim felt the connection fade to a dull hum as Lia's consciousness drifted into deep sleep. The second channel went dark. He was alone in his apartment again. Tim sat up, his own body shaking, sweat soaking his shirt. He looked at his hands—large, hairy, male.

"Okay," he said to the silence.

"Step one: Survive. Step two: Figure out how to be a girl without getting killed." He reached for the bottle of painkillers the hospital had given him. It was going to be a long night.