Chapter 21 - The Essence of Power (Patreon)

Zhujiao was becoming increasingly convinced that his master was actually a sadist in disguise. 

Gone was the kindly old man who selflessly gave his time to help the less fortunate. Gone was the mischievous troll who loved watching people flounder in confusion. Instead, they had been replaced with an uncompromising taskmaster who would accept nothing but the best.

Zhujiao would have struggled to take him seriously if not for the memory of that pressure bearing down on him, of struggling to breathe under the weight of an old monster’s power.

He couldn’t help but wonder which personality was the mask – the jovial healer or the terrifying cultivator. Or, more worryingly, if both of them were masks, and he had yet to meet the real Lao Yi.

“Focus,” Lao Yi’s voice broke the silence, sharp and commanding. “Clear your mind of distractions. You cannot afford to let your thoughts wander.”

Zhujiao sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, eyes closed, as Lao Yi paced in front of him. The old master’s footsteps were steady, almost rhythmic, a soothing counterpoint to the storm of thoughts swirling in Zhujiao’s mind.

He didn’t actually know what he was supposed to be doing right now – his master had just told him to clear his mind and then proceeded to start walking around him, occasionally humming thoughtfully.

“Not all Qi is alike,” Lao Yi said suddenly. “Broadly speaking, it can be divided into a multitude of alignments, but even then, it is an oversimplification.”

“I know, Master,” Zhujiao said. “I was using Fire Qi to cultivate before, and—”

He almost bit his tongue as a sudden intangible weight pushed down on him, cutting him off. 

“Do not interrupt me when I am speaking on matters of cultivation, student,” Lao Yi reproached mildly. The contrast between his tone and the force of his intent was daunting. “While I do not mind some banter while teaching you about herbs or healing, that is only because those subjects are, in the broad scheme of things, inconsequential.”

Zhujiao dipped his head in apology, though mostly because the pressure had been steadily ramping up as Lao Yi spoke. Evidently, he would have to tread carefully around his teacher, especially when it came to cultivation. If nothing else, it was a good reminder that he really couldn’t trust anyone – not until he could take care of himself.

“Let us use your example of Fire-aligned Qi,” Lao Yi continued as if nothing had happened, “While on the surface, one source of Fire-aligned Qi may be much the same as another, the reality is that they are very different, just as there are many different kinds of fire. For example, a fire can be warm and nurturing, such as can be found in a hearth. It can be small and contained, like a candle, or it can be wild and raging, like a forest fire. Even an explosion can generate Fire-aligned Qi.”

“The nuances of Fire-aligned Qi are not just academic distinctions,” Lao Yi continued, his tone becoming more instructive. “That’s why you didn’t run into any problems when using bonfires as your sole source of Qi – even though it was hardly ideal, at least it was the same type of Fire-aligned Qi. Once you tried to use the beast core however, even though it was superficially the same, it’s energy was incompatible with the Qi you had previously absorbed.”

Zhujiao nodded along, absorbing the explanation. He imagined it was probably something like colours – like how two different leaves could both be green, yet completely different shades. It made sense, in hindsight; the beast core had felt wild and untamed, vastly different from the more stable and consistent energy of the bonfire. 

He opened his mouth to ask a question before hesitating. Would that count as an interruption? He really didn’t want to feel his master’s intent again. The matter was taken out of his hands when Lao Yi glanced over and saw his indecision. The old man rolled his eyes and waved a hand.

“You may ask questions, student; just make sure they are not inane wastes of time,” he instructed firmly.

“Does that mean that cultivators can only ever use a single source of Qi?” The question burst from his lips before he could stop it. He was just so curious about all of this, and finally having a proper source of information was incredible.

Lao Yi looked pleased by his enthusiasm. “Not at all, my boy. That would be incredibly limiting and make advancement all but impossible except for an incredibly lucky few. Not, a cultivator must simply purify any Qi before absorbing it into their dantian – which does, of course, mean that regaining energy is a more time-consuming process. Still, the trade-offs are well worth it.”

Lao Yi paused, studying Zhujiao’s face to ensure he was following the explanation. Satisfied, he continued, 

“Before you can master the purification of Qi, you must first become adept at identifying different types of Qi. This is an essential skill for any cultivator, as it allows you to discern the nature of the energy you are working with.”

He reached into the sleeve of his robe and retrieved a small pouch. From it, he carefully extracted two smooth, blue marbles, placing them on the tatami mat in front of Zhujiao. The stones looked identical to the naked eye, with a glossy surface that shimmered slightly in the light.

“These are Qi stones,” Lao Yi explained. “While the mortals use copper, silver, and gold as currency, these are what cultivators use.”

Zhujiao eyed them curiously. They looked… well, they didn’t look particularly valuable at all. Still, if they were used by cultivators, then presumably there was more going on here than he could see. Curiously, he focused and reached out with his Qi sense.

Immediately, he could feel the two stones blaze with energy. It felt more like his master was holding two miniature suns in his hand – the only thing he had to compare it to was the beast core he had so recklessly tapped into. Despite himself, he flinched backwards, phantom sensations of fire and pain flickering up his limbs.

Lao Yi raised an eyebrow at his reaction before chuffing a laugh. “Ah, I see you are ever impatient. Very well, if you wish to leap ahead to the practical lesson, then I want you to tell me what the difference is between these two stones.”

His master hefted the stones higher, as if presenting them to his student for closer inspection. Not being an idiot, he knew this was a misdirection - any difference would only be visible to his Qi senses.

He set his jaw and pushed past any lingering discomfort, forcing himself to examine the stones closely. His master might be… well, he didn’t really know who his master considering the recent revelations, but at the very least he didn’t think the old man was stupid enough or cruel enough to put him in danger like this. 

At least not when Lao Yi was in the line of fire as well.

Once he was able to push past his initial reaction, the difference between the stones was all but unmissable. While one of them did indeed burn with the energy of the sun, the other somehow felt… like the ocean? As in, specifically the ocean – it didn’t just feel wet; it felt like the spray of salty water on his tongue, the deep, crushing darkness of unfathomable depths.

He jerked back, startled. The sensations had been so overwhelming he hadn’t even noticed how quickly it had been drawing him in.

The stone sat innocently on the palm of his master’s hand, and if it weren’t for his senses, he would have sworn it was nothing more than coloured glass. Zhujiao shivered, unaccountably cold.

It was a sobering reminder that while he did enjoy some advantages a child in his situation would never have, he was still a very small fish swimming in very deep waters, and the waves were never kind to the unwary.

He took a breath to steady himself before pointing at the stone in his master’s left hand. 

“That’s fire-aligned. Or well, it actually feels more like the sun than just fire? The other one feels like the ocean.”

The old man nodded, a look of mild surprise on his face. “Very good. You have a natural talent for this. It’s rare to see someone so attuned to the subtle differences in Qi, especially at your level of cultivation.” 

Lao Yi hummed consideringly for a moment. “That was easier for you than I thought, and no cultivator will grow without challenge. To be honest, I would have accepted ‘Fire’ and ‘Water’ as your answers. Very well then, let’s see how you fare with a more challenging test.”

He placed the two stones back into the pouch and pulled out another set of four stones, arranging them in a line before Zhujiao. “These stones are all Fire-aligned,” Lao Yi explained. “However, they come from different sources. One from a hearth, another from a campfire, one from a forge, and the last from a wildfire. The differences may be subtle, but they are there. Identify them.”

That raised quite a few questions about the formation of the Qi stones. He could vaguely accept an ‘ocean’ attuned stone – he could well imagine the sheer quantity of Qi available in the ocean, and a portion of it condensing made a certain amount of sense. 

But how on Earth would you get a Qi stone from a campfire of all things? The new stones didn’t feel any less potent than the two his master had started out with.

He mentally shrugged. He’d never really been one to care about the details; why start now? Taking a deep breath, he steadied his mind and reached out with his Qi senses, allowing the energy to flow from his dantian and envelop the stones.

It was significantly more difficult than he expected. Not only were the stones more similar to each other, there was a sort of… resonance between them. Almost like they were throwing off a sort of white noise, the energy from one stone mingling with the next and creating a confusing mess.

Fortunately, fire was the element he had the most experience with, and even though he had to push through the faint remembered sensation of burning, it was still doable. 

Zhujiao identified the campfire stone first. It felt the most familiar of the lot, undoubtedly due to his experience with using a bonfire as a Qi source. It was chaotic, as all fire was, dancing unpredictably and casting long shadows. Still, it felt… restrained, somehow, almost like it had been tamed. 

Describing the sensations his Qi sense gave him was difficult, but if he had to put it to words he would say it had a subdued flavour to it. Sort of tangy, really.

Using that as a base, picking out the wildfire stone was easy. The energy there was overpowering, almost oppressive. It was scorching heat, consuming everything in its path. It felt… 

He shivered despite himself.

It felt like pain.

While it was probably just his own experiences influencing his perceptions, it was still a relief to tear his attention from that particular stone and shift his focus to the third stone. This one was immediately distinct from the previous two. 

The energy here felt concentrated and intense, yet controlled. It wasn’t wild and chaotic like the campfire stone, nor was it overwhelming and destructive like the wildfire stone. Instead, this stone radiated a focused heat, like the steady blaze of a forge. It was a disciplined power, purposeful and directed. He could almost hear the rhythmic clang of a hammer striking metal, smell the faint metallic tang of molten iron.

He lingered on the forge stone for a moment, appreciating its steady, unwavering nature. There was a comfort in its stability, a sense of order amidst the chaos of the other stones. But soon, his attention shifted to the final stone, the one he instinctively knew he had been avoiding.

The final stone was… warm. Not in the sense of heat but more of a welcoming, comforting warmth. It was the soft glow of firelight dancing across the walls of his childhood home, the faint aroma of his mother’s cooking. He could almost hear her soft humming as she worked.

A pang of nostalgia hit him, and with it, a rush of emotions he hadn’t expected. Zhujiao blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus. The task at hand was identifying the stones, not dwelling on the past. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the lingering emotions, and looked up at Lao Yi.

“Campfire, wildfire, forge, hearth,” he pointed at the relevant stones in order. If his voice cracked a little on the last one, his master was kind enough not to draw attention to it.

“Perhaps it wasn’t just luck that allowed you to survive your mistakes,” Lao Yi commented blandly. His tone may have been disinterested, but Zhujiao could see the faint gleam of approval in his eyes.

His master eyed him consideringly for a moment.

“I will be honest with you, my boy, I had planned for that particular lesson to take several weeks. Right now, you have two paths before you. I can continue teaching you everything you need to know about the nature of Qi, where it comes from and how best to use it. This is the sure path to success, thought the journey will be slow.”

He paused, the faintest echoes of his intent pressing down on Zhujiao. “Or, I can teach you nothing but what is needed to survive and let you discover the rest for yourself. This is the quick and dangerous path. The choice is yours.”

Zhujiao blinked at the sudden presentation of choices. He certainly couldn’t accuse his master of being predictable. First of all he was getting chewed out for being too reckless, now he was being offered the chance to be reckless? Was this a test or a genuine option?

“Master,” he began slowly, “if you were in my place, which path would you choose?”

Lao Yi’s expression remained inscrutable, but there was a glint of something—perhaps amusement or challenge—in his eyes. “A man’s path must only ever be his own,” he replied, his voice calm and measured. “What I would choose is irrelevant. The journey you undertake must be shaped by your own choices, not influenced by what others might do.”

Zhujiao thought back to the years he had lost in his previous life, the opportunities missed. He had made the ‘safe’ choices, the ones that everyone recommended. It should have led to a stable life, to plenty of opportunities he could enjoy when he was older. 

None of it had mattered in the end.

The idea of wasting another life, even with the promise of safety, felt unbearable. He was young, yes, but time was a precious commodity. He had been given a second chance, and what was the point of it if he didn’t use it to its fullest? If he didn’t embrace the risks and live dangerously?

With a steadying breath, he met his master’s gaze and made his choice.