Chapter 8: The First Step in Cultivation

Zhang Ye lay on the dirt floor of the forge, arms spread wide, staring up at the darkening sky. His muscles were completely dead.

Every inch of his body ached from the five hundred swings. His fingers barely responded, and his shoulders burned like fire.

But he was grinning.

This pain this exhaustion was proof.

Proof that his body was changing.

Xiao Lan crouched beside him, her brows knitted in worry. "Brother… should we call a healer?"

Zhang Ye let out a weak chuckle. "No… I just need a minute."

Master He stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with his usual unimpressed gaze. "You look half-dead."

Zhang Ye smirked. "That means the training's working."

Master He snorted. "Hah. You talk big for someone who can't even lift his arms."

Zhang Ye tried to sit up and failed.

Xiao Lan giggled. "Brother, you really do look half-dead."

Master He rubbed his chin. "You've got endurance. That's good. But brute strength alone won't make you a martial artist."

Zhang Ye's gaze sharpened. "Then what will?"

Master He smirked. "Your first lesson in cultivating qi."

Zhang Ye's breath caught.

Finally. The real training begins.

Zhang Ye forced himself upright, ignoring the dull throb in his muscles. His body was wrecked, but his mind burned with anticipation.

Cultivation. The foundation of all martial arts in Murim.

Master He watched him with a smirk. "You're interested now, aren't you?"

Zhang Ye grinned. "I'd be stupid not to be."

Master He sat down on a nearby wooden crate, tapping his fingers against his knee. "Qi cultivation isn't just about gathering energy. It's about controlling it, making it flow through your body. Without that, you're just another brawler swinging sticks."

Zhang Ye nodded. This was what he needed. Strength alone wouldn't be enough. He needed technique. He needed qi.

Master He picked up a small clay cup from a nearby table and filled it with water.

"Imagine this cup is your body," he said. "Qi is like water. If the cup is cracked or full of holes, no matter how much water you pour in, it'll all leak out."

Zhang Ye's brow furrowed. "So before I can cultivate qi, I have to 'fix the cup'?"

Master He smirked. "Exactly. Your body needs to be refined first. That's why you've been doing all this physical training."

Zhang Ye exhaled. So that's why he didn't start with qi right away.

Master He set the cup down and looked Zhang Ye in the eyes. "Now, tell me. Do you feel it?"

Zhang Ye blinked. "Feel what?"

Master He chuckled. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Listen to your body."

Zhang Ye frowned but obeyed.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The cool night air filled his lungs. His heartbeat was steady, but underneath it, there was something… different.

A faint warmth. A strange, tingling sensation just beneath his skin.

His fingers twitched.

It was there.

Weak. Unformed. But real.

His eyes snapped open. "I feel it."

Master He grinned. "Good. That means you're ready for the next step."

Zhang Ye's hands curled into fists. Finally.

Now, he could truly begin.

Zhang Ye sat cross-legged on the cool ground, his breathing steady. The faint warmth he had felt before lingered just beneath his skin, like an ember waiting to ignite.

Master He leaned against the forge, arms crossed. "Now that you can sense it, the next step is to guide it."

Zhang Ye nodded. "How?"

Master He smirked. "Close your eyes. Breathe in slow. Focus on that warmth. Imagine it moving like water flowing through a river."

Zhang Ye frowned but did as instructed.

He inhaled deeply. The night air filled his lungs. His pulse slowed.

The warmth flickered.

Zhang Ye focused on it, willing it to move.

At first, nothing happened. The warmth stayed where it was distant, unshaped.

But then a spark.

A small flicker of energy stirred within him, shifting ever so slightly. It was weak, like trying to move a mountain with a feather, but it moved.

Zhang Ye's heart pounded. This is it. This is qi.

Then pain.

A sharp, sudden burning sensation shot through his chest. His breath hitched. His muscles locked. The warmth turned into fire, surging wildly, spiraling out of control.

His vision blurred. His heartbeat thundered.

Master He's voice cut through the haze. "Relax. Don't force it."

Zhang Ye clenched his teeth, fighting the instinct to resist. He took a slow breath steadying himself.

The pain faded. The warmth settled.

Zhang Ye exhaled.

Master He smirked. "Not bad. You didn't pass out."

Zhang Ye wiped sweat from his brow. "That was… intense."

Master He chuckled. "That was just the first step. Your body is still weak. Your meridians aren't fully open yet."

Zhang Ye frowned. "How do I fix that?"

Master He picked up a small pouch and tossed it to him. Zhang Ye caught it and opened it inside were dried medicinal herbs.

"Boil these into tea. Drink it before bed. It'll help refine your body for proper qi circulation," Master He said.

Zhang Ye raised a brow. "No secret technique?"

Master He smirked. "Not yet. You build a house from the foundation up. Same with cultivation."

Zhang Ye chuckled. Fair enough.

He stood, stretching out his stiff limbs. His body still ached, but… it felt different.

Lighter. Stronger. Like something inside him had awakened.

Master He studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Come back tomorrow. We'll take the next step."

Zhang Ye grinned. "Looking forward to it."

As he walked back toward his shack, Xiao Lan skipping beside him, Zhang Ye clenched his fists.

This was just the beginning.

The night air was cool as Zhang Ye and Xiao Lan made their way home. His body still ached, but underneath the exhaustion was a strange, thrumming energy. His first real taste of qi.

Xiao Lan peeked up at him, eyes full of curiosity. "Brother, what did Master He make you do today?"

Zhang Ye smirked. "Carry heavy things, swing a stick five hundred times, and almost pass out trying to sense qi."

Xiao Lan gasped. "That sounds terrible!"

He laughed. "It's exactly what I needed."

Xiao Lan pouted. "You say weird things now, Brother."

Zhang Ye chuckled but didn't deny it. This was the path forward. Pain, training, and cultivation.

As they reached their shack, Zhang Ye sat by the small fire pit and pulled out the pouch of medicinal herbs Master He had given him. The dried leaves had a faint, earthy scent, mixed with something slightly bitter.

He grabbed their dented metal pot, filled it with water, and placed it over the fire.

Xiao Lan watched curiously. "What is that?"

"Training medicine," Zhang Ye said, tossing the herbs in. The water slowly darkened, releasing a rich, herbal aroma.

Xiao Lan wrinkled her nose. "It smells strong."

Zhang Ye smirked. "Probably tastes worse."

A few minutes later, he poured the dark green liquid into a wooden cup. Steam curled up. The scent was even stronger now.

Xiao Lan's expression twisted. "Are you really going to drink that?"

Zhang Ye raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.

Bitter.

Horribly bitter.

Zhang Ye winced. "…Tastes like dirt mixed with regret."

Xiao Lan giggled. "You look like you're dying!"

Zhang Ye sighed but forced himself to drink it all. If it helped his body refine qi, then a little suffering was worth it.

As the warmth of the tea settled in his stomach, he leaned back, staring up at the stars through the cracks in their roof.

Step by step, I'm getting stronger.

Tomorrow, he would train harder.

And soon he'd be strong enough to carve his own path in Murim.

The bitter aftertaste of the herbal tea lingered on Zhang Ye's tongue as he set the empty cup down. His stomach felt warm, the heat slowly spreading through his body like a gentle current.

It wasn't like before no sudden surge of qi, no burning pain. Just a quiet, steady sensation, like a fire being kindled in his core.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

Xiao Lan sat across from him, resting her chin on her knees. "Do you feel any stronger?"

Zhang Ye smirked. "Not yet. But it's working."

Xiao Lan pouted. "How do you know?"

He tapped his chest. "I can feel it. It's small, but it's there."

Xiao Lan hummed, kicking her legs. "I wish I could do martial arts too."

Zhang Ye raised a brow. "You want to learn?"

She blinked. "Can I?"

Zhang Ye chuckled. "Of course. But we'll start small."

Xiao Lan grinned. "Okay!"

Zhang Ye stretched, his body aching but stable. He could already tell the medicine was helping. His limbs felt lighter, his exhaustion fading quicker than usual.

Master He wasn't lying. This was just the first step.

Tomorrow, he'd return to the forge. Train harder. Refine his qi. Build his foundation until he was strong enough to move forward.

As he lay back on the straw mat, staring at the cracked wooden ceiling, his fingers brushed against the black-and-white necklace around his neck.

The Sky Piercing Sword. The vision of the ruined temple. The strange pulling sensation that whispered to him even now.

I'm coming.

His eyelids grew heavy, the warmth from the medicine lulling him into sleep.

Tomorrow, everything continued.