Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: IT BEGINS

“I’m done!” She called out as she ran towards the jade pavilion, Little Firefly’s excited pulsing lights trailing behind her.

When they arrived in the forest clearing, Li Hua found a soft patch of grass beneath an ancient pine and slowly began her stretches to warm up her limbs.

Her mind remembered the familiar routine, though this body’s untrained muscles followed with less fluidity than she was used to. Still, she guided each movement with patient precision—first gentle circles of her ankles, watching how these smaller, softer limbs responded to her commands. Then careful rolling motions through her knees and hips, noting every resistance and limitation, up to her shoulders and neck. She cataloged the differences between her past body’s capabilities and this new vessel she needed to train.

The familiar motions brought a wave of nostalgia—memories of countless dawns spent in similar preparation, when every stretch had been a prelude to violence. But now, as Little Firefly’s gentle light danced around her, these movements felt different. They weren’t a ritual of death anymore, but rather a celebration of life and the gift of beginning anew. She finished her warm-up with a deep breath, feeling centered and ready to explore the full potential of her transformed self.

“Little Firefly, could you track my distance and time?” Li Hua asked as she positioned herself at the edge of the clearing, the full moon hanging like a luminous pearl above.

“Yes, Master!” The spirit’s light pulsed eagerly.

Li Hua started with a gentle jog, her newly crafted shoes silent against the forest floor. Each stride was measured and careful as her instincts fought against her child body’s natural clumsiness. Above, the dense canopy filtered moonlight through its leaves, casting patterns across her path.

The forest path wound through ancient trees, their jade-green trunks gleaming softly in the lunar glow, stretching impossibly high into the star-studded mystical space above. Little Firefly’s warm glow kept pace beside her, his light harmonizing with the cool radiance of the moon. She kept her breathing steady, focusing on form rather than speed.

The ancient trees gradually gave way to full and lush peach trees, their branches heavy with ethereal blossoms that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The path led back to where the jade pavilion stood beside an ornate bridge that arched gracefully over the crystalline river, marking the completion of her first lap.

After completing her first lap, Li Hua gradually increased her pace, curious about her current body’s speed threshold. The familiar burning in her muscles felt strange in these smaller limbs—sharper, more immediate. Her past life’s conditioning had given her an intimate understanding of how to push physical limits, but now she had to carefully translate that knowledge to this child’s form.

“Master, you’re running at about one third of your old speed,” Little Firefly reported, his light bobbing alongside her. “But your form is remarkably stable for a four-year-old body.”

Li Hua nodded slightly, conserving her breath. The spirit’s assessment matched her own feelings. While her technique remained ingrained in her muscle memory, this body simply lacked the developed fast-twitch muscle fibers and cardiovascular endurance she’d spent decades building in her previous life.

She completed three more laps before coming to a stop, her small chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat had soaked through her new training clothes, and her legs trembled slightly—clear signs that she’d need to rebuild her stamina from scratch. Yet there was something exhilarating about the challenge ahead. This body was like uncarved jade: pure potential, waiting to be shaped by careful, deliberate training.

“Little Firefly,” she said between controlled breaths, “what’s your assessment?”

“Master, you ran a little over four miles, in approximately forty-three minutes. In your previous life, you could have covered twice that distance in half the time. However,” the spirit’s glow brightened encouragingly, “considering your current physical limitations, your performance far surpasses what children your age are capable of.”

“That’s good.” Li Hua stated, letting her arms stretch high above her head, each deep breath bringing her racing heart back to a steady rhythm. As her breathing settled, she began to test her body’s strength.

Her small frame sank into the first squat with surprising grace. Each descent felt like a dance with gravity—lighter, easier somehow. Her childhood frame found its balance naturally, as if it remembered something her adult form had long forgotten. A smile tugged at her lips; perhaps being small had its advantages.

Rising from her final squat, she flowed naturally into lunges. Her legs, so much shorter now, wobbled beneath her as muscle memory from her past life clashed with present reality. Each step forward became a negotiation between what her mind expected and what her body could deliver.

As her legs found their rhythm, she transitioned to test her center. Core work revealed new discoveries. Starting with hollow body holds, she found her small frame could maintain the position with surprising control, though holding the boat-like pose made her muscles quiver like leaves in a gentle breeze.

Without pause, she rolled forward into mountain climbers, her tiny feet moving in swift, precise patterns as if scaling invisible peaks. The continuous motion carried her smoothly into bicycle crunches, each rotation feeling like a dance between past mastery and present limitations—her movements fluid but her stamina quickly waning.

Drawing herself up to her hands and feet, she prepared for the next challenge. Push-ups humbled her. The ground seemed so much further away with these tiny arms, each press upward a mountain to climb. By the fifteenth repetition, her arms shook, but her warrior’s pride wouldn’t let her form falter.

Lowering herself with controlled exhaustion, she settled into the plank position and found an unexpected victory. Her small frame held steady, and for a moment, she felt that familiar steel in her core—a ghost of her former strength whispering through this new vessel. Two minutes passed like a meditation, her body trembling but unbowed.

With renewed determination, she launched into burpees. Each jump felt like flying and falling all at once, her body a stranger to itself in these explosive movements. Yet there was joy in the chaos, in feeling this young form learn and adapt with each awkward attempt. This wasn’t failure—it was beginning again.

Catching her breath, she turned her attention to a low-hanging peach tree branch that seemed sturdy enough to support her weight. Her small hands wrapped around it, the familiar grip feeling foreign in these softer palms. The first pull was a revelation—her reduced body weight made the movement almost effortless compared to her past life, though her underdeveloped muscles quickly began to protest.

After completing three sets of pull-ups, Li Hua dropped lightly to the ground, her small frame barely making a sound as she landed. Despite the trembling in her muscles, she felt a deep satisfaction. This body might be weak by her former standards, but its potential was undeniable.

“You did well, Master,” Little Firefly’s warm light pulsed encouragingly. “Your form was nearly perfect, even if your endurance isn’t what it used to be.”