Training with So-Yeon and Dan quickly became routine. Every morning after our individual lessons, we gathered behind the outer hall where the cliffs opened up to a wide plateau. It was quieter there, less populated by the elders and other disciples. A place where we could spar, experiment, and make mistakes without drawing too much attention.
Today, Dan was late.
So-Yeon leaned against a tree, casually flipping one of her blades in her hand. "He's probably still stuffing his face," she said, smirking.
I watched the wind rustle through the high grass. "Or he overslept again."
"Wouldn't surprise me. That boy can snore louder than thunder."
We both chuckled. In the short time since we met, these moments—light, unburdened—had become strangely precious.
But it wasn't all laughter. So-Yeon had begun to teach me footwork techniques. She moved like a shadow, and though I still lumbered by comparison, I was learning how to anticipate motion, how to adjust my massive strides with purpose.
When Dan finally arrived, hair tousled and eyes still half-closed, he grinned sheepishly. "I brought buns," he said, holding up a small sack like a peace offering.
So-Yeon snatched one. "You're lucky you're useful."
I took one, too. They were still warm.
After eating, we sparred. First So-Yeon and I, then Dan and I. Dan never held back, and while his strength still surpassed mine, I had begun using more of the flow I'd learned from the river. I let his power move around me. I stopped meeting his hammer head-on. Instead, I shifted, deflected.
"You're getting slippery," he said after one match, panting.
So-Yeon nodded in approval. "He's learning how to breathe with his sword. Took you long enough."
I offered a small smile. "Still working on breathing with my qi."
That night, I sat in meditation once more, the stream whispering beside me. The ember had grown more stable, a small but consistent warmth in my core. I began to guide it, slowly, gently, through my limbs.
It felt like tracing unfamiliar paths in darkness. My breath had to stay even. My mind, clear. I imagined the flow of water, steady and unbroken.
Then—
A spark. Not just in my core, but in my chest and shoulders. Faint, but connected.
I opened my eyes.
It wasn't just imagination anymore. The qi was beginning to respond.
The next morning, I told So-Yeon and Dan.
So-Yeon grinned. "You'll be forming your first meridian soon."
Dan blinked. "Took me two years to get that far."
"It's not a race," I said.
"No," Dan agreed. "But we're still going to spar until you catch up."
The road of cultivation was still long, and swordplay remained my primary discipline. But now, I could feel two paths beginning to converge within me.
Strength and flow. Body and qi.
And I was no longer walking that path alone.