Chương 75: Chapter 67: Great Completion

It started in his right palm. Joe noticed it during a late-night Skin Tempering session in Deepwinter, several weeks after beginning the ninth pass. Outside, snow had fallen steadily since afternoon and softened Blackwood into unfamiliar shapes. The blackstone road beneath his rented room had disappeared under a thin white layer, wagon tracks cutting two dark lines through it.

Roofs carried uneven caps of snow, smoke rose in narrow columns from chimneys, and the market farther east had gone quiet much earlier than usual. Even the sounds of the town seemed muffled; occasionally a horse snorted in the street or a door slammed somewhere below, but otherwise the night belonged to the wind brushing snow against shutters. Inside, the room was warm enough for training. A brazier burned near the wall, and Joe had already finished the main portion of his session. The gain had been tiny.

That was normal now. He had spent most of the evening correcting a small difference where the skin of his right wrist transitioned into the palm. The area had never been weak in any practical sense. A normal Skin practitioner would never have noticed it. Joe only found it because almost every larger discrepancy had already disappeared, leaving smaller variations exposed. He circulated Blood Energy through the wrist again, letting it spread toward the fingers. The response settled. Joe relaxed his hand.

Then frowned. Something felt different. Not stronger exactly. The palm had already been tempered repeatedly, and he had not targeted most of it during that session. Yet when he pressed his thumb against the center of the hand, the entire surface seemed to accept pressure more evenly than before. Joe turned his palm toward the lamplight. Nothing looked different. No thickening. No discoloration. No obvious physical change.

He rubbed the skin with his thumb, flexed the fingers, then pressed against the edge of the wooden bench. Still normal. Joe remained still for a moment. That should not have changed. He knew exactly what he had trained. The weak transition near the wrist should have improved. The center of the palm should have remained essentially the same. Instead, something about the whole hand felt more unified. Joe waited until the next evening before testing it. That was important.

One strange sensation after training could be fatigue, altered Blood Energy circulation, temporary swelling, or simple imagination. He had learned long ago that wanting a result made it dangerously easy to find one. The next night he used the same coarse training cloth he had used during earlier defensive comparisons. He applied the same pressure and repeated the same motion over the palm. The difference remained. The skin tolerated substantially more friction before showing the same degree of irritation.

Joe stopped immediately. He did not smile. Not yet. He changed hands. The left palm had not received the same targeted correction during the previous session, but it too performed slightly better than expected. That made him more suspicious, not less. Either the measurement is wrong, or correcting one remaining weakness affects the performance of the whole layer. The second possibility was much more interesting.

Joe spent the next week trying to disprove it. He checked the cloth. Replaced it. Compared pressure. Changed the order of testing so expectation could not influence which side he treated more gently. He waited between sessions. He tested the forearm, upper arm, shoulder and shin rather than relying on the hands alone. The pattern remained. Not everywhere equally, and not dramatically at first, but the improvement was broader than the areas he had directly tempered.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The ninth pass was beginning to behave differently from the previous ones. Joe did not immediately decide why. That would have been premature. Instead, he changed how he trained. Until then, he had treated Skin IX as one final repetition following the same diminishing curve as VIII. Find the remaining weak area, strengthen it, move on.

Now he began paying closer attention to how different regions affected one another. The body was not a collection of independent patches. Skin wrapped the entire body continuously. Pressure applied in one place spread through neighboring tissue. Movement stretched several regions at once. A strike against the shoulder did not involve only the square inch where it landed; surrounding tissue helped disperse the force. Joe had known that in the general sense. He had not considered what it meant for repeated tempering.

If the weakest sections limit how well the entire layer shares stress, then strengthening an already-good region gives less. But once the last weak sections catch up... He stopped the thought there. Interesting hypothesis. No evidence yet.

The rest of Deepwinter became a search for inconsistency. Joe trained hands, feet, neck, face, torso, back, scalp and the flexible folds around joints, but he no longer thought of those areas as separate accomplishments. They were simply places where the same defensive layer still behaved unevenly. Some differences were easy to find. The side of the neck remained slightly more sensitive to repeated pressure than the upper chest. One region near the ankle reddened sooner than the surrounding tissue.

The skin near the ribs stretched differently during rotation and needed a slightly different approach. Others were maddeningly subtle. Joe could spend half an hour comparing two nearly identical regions before deciding that the difference was too small to justify training that day. He became more willing to stop when he was uncertain. That restraint would have been difficult for his younger self. At eight or ten, cultivation had felt valuable because effort itself was valuable.

Holding a stance until his legs shook felt meaningful. Repeating a movement one more time felt meaningful. Doing more was almost always useful because his understanding and physical development lagged his willingness to work. Now the opposite problem existed. His talents made good effort extraordinarily productive, so the scarce resource was no longer effort. It was judgment. Joe sat one evening after abandoning a session because he could not identify a meaningful weakness and listened to wind rattle the shutters.

Interesting. He had done less physical work that day than he would have considered acceptable years ago, yet he was more confident in the decision. The stronger I become, the more dangerous mindless diligence gets.

By the middle of Deepwinter, the defensive tests began moving far enough that measurement error stopped being a satisfactory explanation. Skin VIII had settled close to his rough estimate of one-point-nine times ordinary first Completion under the controlled stresses he could compare. Joe had expected IX to push the layer slightly higher, perhaps close to twice ordinary quality if he was lucky. Instead, it passed that point. Then kept going. Not in one sudden leap.

The change accumulated as more of the remaining inconsistencies disappeared. A padded impact that once produced mild redness now left almost nothing. Friction took longer to irritate the surface. Minor pressure marks faded faster. Blunt force seemed to spread across a wider region instead of concentrating as sharply at the point of contact. Joe deliberately avoided testing with blades. That would tell him very little he could not learn more safely.

Skin three times better than ordinary did not mean a knife became harmless. Enough force concentrated onto a sharp enough edge would still be cut. He was strengthening flesh, not creating metal armor. Power became dangerous when the user let a useful comparison turn into fantasy.

The weather deepened with the cultivation. Blackwood woke one morning beneath nearly a handspan of snow. The main roads were cleared first. Laborers shoveled broad paths across central blackstone while shopkeepers pushed snow away from entrances. In the outer districts, people simply packed it down beneath boots and cartwheels until white became brown, then gray. Children built crude figures near the grain market, only for one merchant to discover that somebody had given a snowman his missing hat.

Joe heard Simon complain about that for most of breakfast.

"It was a good hat." Mira looked at him over her tea.

"Then why did you leave it at the guard compound?"

"I did not leave it. I put it down."

"And then walked away."

"For a few minutes."

"For six hours." Simon looked at Joe.

"Why do you know that?"

"You told me yesterday."

"That doesn't mean you needed to remember." Joe continued eating. Edwin unfolded a supplier note. Mira smiled.

"Was the hat at least improved by the snowman?"

"No."

"Did it suit him?"

"No." Joe looked up.

"Apparently enough that nobody returned it." Simon stared at him. Edwin lowered the paper just enough to hide what might have been a smile. Simon pointed at Joe.

"You have become worse since moving here." Joe considered that.

"More efficient, perhaps."

"That is not better." The conversation moved from the hat to whether Cole had helped, then to a guard patrol, then to an argument over which market sold the best winter dumplings. Joe participated enough to avoid seeming distracted, but part of his attention remained on the previous night's Skin session. The contrast still amused him. At breakfast he was Joe, younger brother, medicine partner, and guard auxiliary.

Inside, something no one around the table knew existed was approaching a level no local martial manual had ever described to him. He preferred that separation. The more unusual his path became, the more important ordinary life felt.

The final weak point was so unimpressive that Joe almost missed it. A narrow section behind the left ankle. It showed no visible weakness. It had never been injured easily. It moved normally and tolerated pressure well. But during a loaded stance, Blood Energy still met a faint difference there compared with the surrounding tissue. Joe worked on it over several sessions. Carefully. No rush. By then he had learned what happened when he chased a result too eagerly: expectation contaminated observation.

The first session improved the area. The second made the difference smaller. After the third, he could barely detect it. Joe rested for several days. Then tried again. The difference was gone. He circulated Blood Energy through the whole Skin layer afterward, slowly enough to notice transitions from one region to another. The flow moved across hands and arms, chest and back, neck and face, legs and feet without encountering an obvious place that lagged behind. Joe waited for some dramatic sensation. Nothing came.

No burst of power. No sudden heat. No mysterious sound inside his body. The ninth tempering simply felt... finished. He checked the panel privately. Skin Tempering had completed the ninth pass. Joe stared at it for several seconds. Then dismissed it. The panel confirmed completion. It did not explain what completion meant.