Chương 4: "I'm still not your master"

Ch 4: "I'm still not your master" Zhen took a step backward, the thrill from the flight draining away. Broken? What sane person would want to be broken? He looked around, searching for a way out of the clearing. No one knew where he was. Not even him. Shuo had destroyed a horde of Memory Wraiths within moments yesterday. Even injured as he was, if the old man decided Zhen was more trouble than he was worth, there would be no witnesses and no trail home for his parents to follow.

Shuo turned from the water and caught Zhen's expression.

He rolled his eyes.

"Stop being a baby," he snapped.

"For someone who jumped into a fight against creatures far more powerful than himself, you're acting like a weakling." His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Zhen.

"To be a cultivator is to be purged, broken down, and rebuilt. That requires qi." He paused and considered for a moment.

"And determination." Another pause as he considered further.

"And pain." His expression didn't change.

"Lots of pain." Alarm flashed across Zhen's face, and his hand drifted toward his hammers.

"But don't worry about that. It'll all come in good time," Shuo plowed on with a flap of his hand.

"The first stage is to learn how to meditate, so take a deep breath. I want to see what you can do." This, at least, was something that Zhen could safely agree to. He inhaled and filled his lungs with the mountain air. The sensation was immediate and startling. Back in the forge, he had felt a small surge of energy when he had taken in a breath before trying to manipulate the iron. This was different, and he let out an involuntary gasp.

This was the same energy he had been absorbing in the forge, but here, in this clearing, it was thick and dense as it flooded into him. He had no idea that places like this existed. So this was qi. Something real he could feel and manipulate.

"Hmm," Shuo said after a minute or so.

"Stop. Stop. Stop. Given the woeful state of your development, I'll teach you a trivially easy meditation technique." Shuo settled cross-legged on a smooth boulder near the water's edge and gestured for Zhen to do the same.

"Does the technique have a name?" Zhen asked, lowering himself onto a patch of moss-covered stone.

"Like in the stories?" Shuo paused before answering.

"It is called… Elementary Pulse. As I said, it's entirely straightforward." Zhen nodded, the name sounding vaguely disappointing compared to the grand techniques in the stories.

"A child can do this," Shuo continued, his tone regaining its edge.

"So a grown man of..." He paused and raised his eyebrows.

"Actually, how old are you, boy?"

"Seventeen," Zhen answered. A look of sadness crossed Shuo's face, so unexpected on his harsh features that Zhen's first instinct was to pretend he hadn't seen it. Something in the old man's eyes cracked, then sealed itself. Shuo was quiet for a moment longer than the question warranted.

"Of course, yes, seventeen, like I was saying, a grown man of seventeen," Shuo continued, his voice rougher than before, "should be able to master it within a week or two of diligent practice."

"The Elementary Pulse is about rhythm," Shuo began, settling more comfortably on his boulder.

"Think of qi as water. Most fools just gulp it down, but you're no ordinary fool, so you must learn to sip with purpose." Zhen nodded, mimicking Shuo's posture.

"First, set your breathing. Four counts in, hold for two, six counts out. Begin." Zhen followed the instructions, thinking it was simple enough. His lungs expanded, held, then emptied.

"Wrong," Shuo snapped before Zhen had completed the cycle.

"Your diaphragm is rigid. Again." Zhen tried once more.

"No, no, no." Shuo's bony finger jabbed at Zhen's sternum.

"You're forcing air into your chest like bellows pumping a forge. The qi won't respond to brute strength." For painfully long minutes, Shuo corrected nothing but Zhen's breathing. By the time the old man seemed grudgingly satisfied, Zhen's ribs ached from the constant adjustments.

"That is several steps below adequate, but even someone with my extended lifespan would die if I waited for you to reach competence," Shuo said.

"For now, let's move to the next step to see how badly you butcher that. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Breath in again, but as you do so, imagine tiny ripples spreading through your body. Make it pulse with each heartbeat." Zhen looked at Shuo blankly.

"I'm sorry, Master Shuo, but how can air vibrate inside me?" Shuo's hand twitched as if to slap Zhen. Instead, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath before replying in a controlled voice.

"First, did I offer to be your Master? Don't answer. It's a rhetorical question to which the answer is: No, I did not. So don't call me Master. Second, does breathing in the fumes in that forge damage what I suppose we must call your brain? It's not the air that vibrates, it's the qi. The clue is in the 'Pulse' part of the technique's title. Stop asking inane questions and just do it." This still didn't make a lot of sense, but Zhen clenched his jaw and concentrated on trying to do as he had been directed.

"Loosen your face before it cracks," Shuo barked.

"Think like a blacksmith. When you strike a piece of iron perfectly, it sings. That's the vibration I'm talking about." Something clicked at those words. The comparison to metalwork gave him the reference he needed. He recalled the satisfying ring when his hammer found just the right spot on the anvil, and after a moment, he recreated that sensation inside himself.

"Better," Shuo said grudgingly after Zhen's next attempt.

"But you're treating the qi like a foreign substance. It should feel like blood returning to a numbed limb." On and on it went. Every time Zhen thought he had grasped the technique, Shuo found another flaw. The qi needed to spiral, not flow straight, or the vibrations were pulsing too slowly. Zhen tried to stifle the feeling of being disgruntled. For a technique supposedly meant for beginners, the Elementary Pulse demanded extraordinary accuracy. Or maybe it didn't, and it was just that Shuo was pedantic.

"Again," Shuo commanded after yet another failed attempt.

"And stop frowning. It makes you look ugly. Uglier. It makes you look uglier." An hour passed, and Shuo's adjustments became increasingly specific. Then something clicked for Zhen. The qi flowed into him effortlessly from the surroundings. It vibrated through his body and, just as Shuo had promised, it pulsed with his heartbeat. The sensation was strangely familiar. It was like he was picking up a pair of tongs after he had been away from the forge and feeling the way it fit perfectly in his palm.

As the qi pulsed into him, it washed away the fatigue from the morning's exertions. Every part of him felt awake in a way he had no words for. Zhen opened his eyes to find Shuo staring at him. For an instant, something flickered in those grey eyes.

"Hmph." Shuo recovered quickly, his expression returning to its usual scowl.

"You think that's impressive? You've just managed what eight-year-olds in the most humble of sects accomplish in their first week of training. Well done." Despite the dismissive words, Zhen caught a tremor in Shuo's voice.

"But now you understand why we cultivators do what we do, don't you?" The old man's voice was gruff.

"That feeling. It never fades." The old man's voice was quieter when he continued.

"From now on, practice every free moment you have until Elementary Pulse becomes as natural as breathing. Your body is an empty vessel that needs filling." Zhen nodded, still savoring the sensation of the qi flowing through him.

"Yes, Master Shuo. I understand""I'm still not your master." Shuo snapped out the words, but he didn't correct him further.

"We should head back," Shuo said, rising from his rock with surprising agility for someone as old as he appeared to be.

"Even if you're starting down this path, you must have actual work to do, unlike those pampered sect disciples who meditate all day." Zhen nodded, still riding the lingering wave of qi circulation. Shuo produced his sword and motioned for Zhen to climb aboard.

"Stand behind me. There's no need to hold on as tightly as you did last time. Neither the sword nor I will let you fall." The journey back was smoother now Zhen knew what to expect. They landed in a small clearing just beyond sight of the house. The sword came to rest with barely a whisper over the fallen leaves. As they emerged from the treeline and were about to open the gate to the Tie family compound, Shuo's posture changed dramatically. His shoulders hunched, and his walk deteriorated into a halting shuffle.

He reached out and gripped Zhen's arm, while leaning heavily on his walking staff.

"What.." Zhen began, but Shuo silenced him with a sharp pinch. The transformation was so complete Zhen found it jarring. Shuo had been healthy just moments before. This frail old man was nothing like he had been. They had barely passed through the gate when Zhen's mother burst from the house. Her face was initially tight with worry, but it quickly turned to anger.

"Tie Zhen! Where have you been?" Her eyes flashed.

"Your father needed you at the forge hours ago, and you disappeared without a word!" Zhen opened his mouth to explain, but Shuo cut in before he could speak.

"Please, Madam Tie," he wheezed, his voice was tremulous.

"The fault is entirely mine." He followed this with a series of rattling coughs.

"I woke early," Shuo continued weakly, "and asked young Zhen to accompany me for a walk. After yesterday's... incident... I wanted to test my recovery." Another cough.

"I am a foolish, impatient old man, and I fear I pushed myself too far, too fast. Your son has been most kind, helping me back when my strength failed. He is a credit to you." Mei-Bao's suspicious gaze moved between them.

"After all your family's kindness," Shuo added, looking abashed, "I feel awful to have put you out like this." Mei-Bao's expression softened slightly, though she was clearly still skeptical. She stepped forward, taking Shuo's arm from Zhen's grasp.

"I'll take care of our patient from here," she said, her voice clipped but no longer angry.

"Your father is waiting for you in the forge, Zhen. He's been there since dawn." As Mei-Bao guided Shuo toward the house, she whispered to him furiously, and the old man briefly glanced back at Zhen. For a brief moment, the frailty vanished from his face, and a glint of mischief shone in his eyes. He gave Zhen a conspiratorial wink, then collapsed back into Mei-Bao's arms with a groan so theatrical Zhen's own face burned with secondhand embarrassment.

Zhen watched them enter the house, trying to process what he had just witnessed. The old cultivator was clearly playing some game, but he had no idea what it was. A distant clang from the forge snapped him from his thoughts. Whatever path he had stumbled onto today would have to wait. He headed toward the forge, his mind still whirling. A good stint of honest work would help him make sense of it all. As he reached the forge door, Zhen took a slow breath as Shuo had taught him, and the qi responded.

He smiled despite himself as the energy coursed into him. Time to see what he could do with it.