First Cultivator of the Philippines

The scroll lay in my hands, its surface pulsing faintly with a soft golden glow. The air around it felt charged, almost electric, as though the scroll itself was alive. My fingers traced the intricate symbols etched onto the parchment. I tried to open it, tugging gently at its edges, but the scroll remained sealed, like it was resisting my touch.

It was locked.

I racked my brain, searching for some clue or method to unlock it. Then, a memory stirred something I had read in the countless Chinese cultivation novels I consumed in my spare time. In those stories, items of great power often required a drop of blood to recognize their owner.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. Blood? That felt so… final, like it would bind me to something I couldn't back out of. But I couldn't shake the growing sense that this scroll was important, maybe even my only shot at making sense of what had just happened.

I took a shaky breath and decided against experimenting with it here. This wasn't the place for reckless decisions. The events at Pacific Mall had left me shaken, and the weight of what I'd witnessed was starting to settle in.

The fight. The young cultivator. The Aswang.

I had been lucky or maybe unlucky to survive. The Aswang didn't see my face, but that didn't mean I was safe. If the stories from Filipino folklore were true, Aswangs were cunning, predatory creatures with a sharp sense of smell. My clothes were likely soaked with fear and adrenaline, making them an easy trail for the beast to follow.

I had to burn them.

But first, I needed to get home.

I flagged down a passing tricycle driver, giving him my address in Barangay Kapitan Pepe. It wasn't far, near the old palengke (wet market) and the bustling night market. Cabanatuan City might be called a city, but it's nothing like Manila's towering skyscrapers and sprawling highways. It's more quiet here, a mix of old charm and urban sprawl, with endless markets and streets buzzing with tricycles.

The ride home felt like an eternity. My mind raced with everything that had happened, replaying the fight in vivid detail. The cultivator's desperate struggle, his glowing blade, and the words he spoke before shoving the scroll into my hands. Why me?

When I finally reached home, I handed the driver some cash and hurried inside. Our house was modest but sturdy, a two-story structure with a weathered roof and thick wooden beams that creaked when the wind blew too hard. My grandparents were out for the evening, probably visiting neighbors or playing cards at the barangay hall.

I climbed the stairs to my room on the second floor, shut the door behind me, and threw my soiled clothes into a plastic bag. I'd deal with burning them later. Right now, my focus was on the scroll.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the scroll resting on my lap. It was strange that this relic from another world in such an ordinary place. The glow had dimmed, but I could still feel its pull, like it was calling to me.

I steeled myself and reached for the small utility knife on my desk. A single drop of blood and that's all it would take, right?

My hand shook as I made a tiny cut on my fingertip. The pain was sharp but brief, and I watched as a bead of blood formed and fell onto the scroll's surface.

The effect was immediate.

The scroll lit up like a firework, bathing the room in golden light. The seals that had once held it shut unraveled, their patterns dissolving into the air like mist. Slowly, the parchment unrolled, revealing rows of intricate Chinese characters that seemed to shimmer with life.

I couldn't read Chinese. Not even a single word. But as I stared at the glowing text, something incredible happened.

The words resonated with me.

It wasn't that I understood the words in the traditional sense; rather, their essence and their meaning seeped directly into my mind. What I received felt vast, like an entire book's worth of knowledge, even though the scroll itself appeared no larger than a simple two-page document. It was as if the scroll was speaking directly to my soul, bypassing the need for language altogether.

At the top of the parchment, bold and unyielding, were three characters. Their presence alone seemed to radiate authority and power. The scroll's title formed in my mind, as clear as if it had been written in Filipino:

"Divine Vessel Ascension Method."

"Oh, sh*t! Is this real?" I exclaimed.

My heart pounded as I continued to absorb the scroll's contents. It was an ancient manual, a guide to cultivating qi or ki, as I'd read in novels. It described qi as a life force, an energy that flows through all living things and connects them to the universe. By cultivating it, a person could enhance their physical and spiritual capabilities, achieving strength far beyond normal human limits.

I couldn't resist trying it.

The manual's instructions were vivid in my mind, as though the scroll itself was guiding me. I sat cross-legged on the floor, imitating the meditation posture I had seen in countless manhua illustrations.

It wasn't comfortable. My knees protested, and my back ached almost immediately. Clearly, I wasn't built for this yet. Still, I pressed on, focusing on my breathing as the scroll instructed.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

It felt silly at first, like I was just sitting there pretending to be something I wasn't. But then, something shifted.

The air around me grew still. A faint warmth spread through my chest, radiating outward. It was subtle at first, like the feeling of sunlight on your skin. But as I continued, the sensation deepened, transforming into a gentle but persistent current flowing through my body.

Energy.

I opened my eyes, startled. Everything looked sharper clearer. The dim corners of my room were now vivid, every shadow and speck of dust in stark detail. I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the distant chirping of crickets outside. My senses had heightened, and my mind felt sharper, more attuned.

"Tang ***, Gumana!" I screamed in excitement.

It actually worked.

I stared at the scroll, a mix of awe and fear coursing through me. The Divine Vessel Ascension Method was real, and it had already begun to change me.

But what did that mean for my future?

As the golden glow of the scroll dimmed, leaving my room bathed in moonlight, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life had just been rewritten. There was no going back now.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.