Instinct And Abilities

Jin Jue stepped onto the training field, his body still aching from his cultivation session. The open courtyard was vast, its stone tiles worn smooth by the countless disciples who had trained before him. Rows of wooden dummies lined the edges, while further ahead, a raised platform stood where duels and demonstrations took place.

Around him, other new disciples gathered, their expressions ranging from excitement to nervousness. Some came from prestigious families, their confidence unwavering. Others, like Jin Jue, were commoners—less certain of their standing, yet just as determined.

At the front of the courtyard stood Instructor Han, a middle-aged man with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor. His robes bore the insignia of the Jade Pure Sect's combat division, signifying his expertise in martial training.

He swept his gaze over the assembled disciples, his arms crossed behind his back. "Cultivation is not merely about meditation and gathering qi," he began, his voice steady but firm. "It is about survival. A weak cultivator is nothing more than prey for those stronger than them."

Jin Jue nodded subtly. He had learned that lesson the hard way, growing up amidst the war that had ravaged his homeland.

Instructor Han continued, "Today, you will be tested—not just on your physical ability, but on your instincts. Some of you have trained in martial arts before coming here. Others have not. It does not matter. In combat, hesitation means death."

At his signal, senior disciples stepped forward, distributing wooden training swords to the new recruits. Jin Jue took his weapon, feeling its weight. It was simple—no ornamentation, no sharp edge—but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt.

"The first test is endurance," Instructor Han declared. "You will each face an opponent. The goal is not victory, but perseverance. Show me that you are capable of enduring hardship!"

The disciples exchanged uneasy glances as names were called, pairing them off.

Jin Jue's name was finally announced—his opponent was Liu Feng, the same disciple who had displayed A-grade talent during the Qi Awakening Ceremony.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

"That commoner is unlucky."

"Liu Feng is from the Liu clan—he's trained since childhood!"

"This will be over in seconds."

Jin Jue ignored the whispers, stepping onto the sparring platform. Liu Feng smirked as he twirled his wooden sword, the confidence of a privileged elite clear in his posture.

"Try not to embarrass yourself, commoner," Liu Feng said. "You might not even last three moves."

Jin Jue's grip on his sword tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. He had no illusions—Liu Feng was stronger. But he had not come this far just to roll over and accept defeat.

"Begin!"

Liu Feng moved first, fast. Too fast.

Jin Jue barely raised his sword before a sharp impact struck his wrist, sending jolts of pain up his arm. He staggered back, but Liu Feng gave him no chance to recover.

Thwack!

A strike to his ribs. Another to his shoulder. Jin Jue grit his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him. He swung his own sword, but Liu Feng dodged effortlessly.

The difference was clear. Liu Feng's movements were refined, practiced—each strike precise, flowing into the next without hesitation.

Jin Jue, by contrast, fought purely on instinct. He lacked technique, lacked refinement.

But he endured.

Each strike hurt, but he refused to fall. His body swayed, absorbing blows as best as he could. Every time he was knocked back, he forced himself forward again.

Minutes passed.

Liu Feng frowned. He had expected Jin Jue to collapse by now.

Instructor Han watched intently. "Interesting."

Jin Jue's movements were unpolished, but his tenacity was undeniable. He didn't block well, nor did he counter effectively—but he learned. Each hit he took, he adjusted.

Liu Feng scowled. "Why don't you just give up?"

Jin Jue didn't respond. He merely raised his sword again.

Annoyed, Liu Feng rushed forward, preparing a decisive blow.

Jin Jue saw an opening. It was small, barely there—but enough.

As Liu Feng's blade descended, Jin Jue shifted. Not a full dodge, just a subtle sidestep. The attack still hit his shoulder, but not cleanly.

And in that moment—Jin Jue struck back.

His wooden sword lashed out, landing a solid hit against Liu Feng's side.

The crowd gasped.

Liu Feng staggered, eyes wide. "You—!"

Before he could retaliate, Instructor Han raised a hand. "Enough."

Both fighters froze.

The instructor stepped forward, studying Jin Jue. "Your technique is crude, but you did not fall. That is good. In a real battle, those who refuse to yield often outlast the strong."

He turned to the rest of the disciples. "Remember this lesson. Talent may grant an advantage, but perseverance determines true strength."

Liu Feng's face darkened with humiliation, but he held his tongue.

Jin Jue, though exhausted and battered, stood tall. He had not won. Not truly. But he had endured.

And that was enough for now.

Jin Jue staggered off the training platform, his body sore from the beating he had endured. Despite the pain, a small sense of satisfaction burned in his chest—he had held his ground. Even against someone stronger, he had found a way to strike back.

But something felt… different.

As he sat down on a stone bench at the edge of the training field, his mind replayed the battle. Liu Feng's movements—the way his stance shifted, the angle of his swings, the way he channeled his strength—it all felt strangely clear in Jin Jue's memory.

He closed his eyes.

And then, in his mind's eye, he saw himself… moving like Liu Feng.

His body tingled, an unfamiliar sensation spreading through his limbs.

What is this?

Before he could dwell on it, Instructor Han's voice snapped him back to reality.

"The next phase of training begins now! All disciples, prepare for your cultivation sessions!"

The new disciples gathered again, this time in a different part of the training grounds—a wide clearing surrounded by towering spirit trees, their leaves shimmering with faint traces of qi. Here, they would officially begin their cultivation practice under the instructor's supervision.

"Most of you have already reached the Early Qi Condensation Realm," Instructor Han said, scanning the group. "Some of you will progress faster than others. But remember this—raw talent alone is not enough. You must refine your control, your breathing, your ability to sense the qi around you."

The disciples all sat down in meditative positions, preparing to absorb qi from the atmosphere. Jin Jue followed suit, shutting his eyes, steadying his breath.

Then—it happened again.

A flood of clarity surged through his mind.

The way Liu Feng controlled his qi… the way the senior disciples manipulated their breathing to guide energy into their meridians…

It was as if Jin Jue could see their methods. Understand them.

And more than that—he could do the same.

His breathing shifted, instinctively mimicking the patterns of those more advanced than him. The moment he adjusted, the spiritual energy around him seemed to respond more easily, flowing toward him with greater ease than before.

His body, which had struggled to absorb even a wisp of qi earlier, now pulled it in naturally.

Jin Jue's eyes snapped open.

"This… This isn't normal."

He clenched his fists. He had never been taught these breathing techniques. He had never trained in martial arts before coming to the sect. Yet now, after a single fight, he could recall and replicate Liu Feng's combat style. And now, after merely sitting among more experienced cultivators, his body mimicked their techniques, making qi absorption easier.

A realization struck him.

He could copy others. Their fighting styles, their cultivation methods—perhaps even their breakthroughs.

This was his power.

A slow, determined grin spread across Jin Jue's face.

He may have lacked noble blood, rare techniques, or natural talent.

But if he could learn everything from those stronger than him—

Then he would surpass them all.