First Lessons

Heading back to the living quarters, I leave the beautiful ginkgo tree behind once again, seeking rest after everything that has transpired today—the humiliation, the sword, and my newfound purpose. Even a master would be exhausted after all this.

Wudang, bathed in the glow of the starry night, is as breathtaking as ever. For a fleeting moment, the sight almost makes me forget the shame awaiting me when I return to my fellow disciples. They all witnessed what happened at the training grounds—how I wasn't even a match for Haoyu.

"Yeah… that was quite embarrassing," Juan Lei interjects with a chuckle. "You let rage fuel your attack. That is unlike Wudang's philosophy. No wonder that Elder looked so disappointed."

I scowl. "Do you have anything more encouraging to say? Or better yet, something useful? You're supposed to be my new master, aren't you?"

I still can't believe he's able to speak in my head—without a body of qi, without form—and worse, that he can read my memories. But after everything I've seen today, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

"Be patient, young Jiang. I'll teach you in time—well, by that, I mean tomorrow. I'm still curious about that mission, and I'll make sure you succeed in it."

The calm, almost wise demeanor he had earlier is gone, replaced by the enthusiasm of someone who only just stepped into adulthood.

"Fine," I sigh, "but I'm not calling you 'master' until you actually teach me something."

Before he can reply, I spot Yujin in the distance, scanning the area.

"Chen!" He rushes toward me, slightly out of breath. "So this is where you went… ha… haa… I've been looking for you all day! Instructor Yuan sent me after you when you never showed up at the dining hall." He straightens, wiping sweat from his forehead, then flashes a bright smile—though the worry still lingers in his eyes. I wish I could be as cheerful as him all the time.

Instructor Yuan… Aside from Elder Zhang and Yujin, he's one of the few people I find comfort in. He's always been patient with me, offering help whenever I struggled with training or academics. But I haven't seen him at all today—Elder Jung-hi took over our instruction, just for today, though I still don't know why.

Before I can answer, Juan Lei's voice chimes in my head. "Come on, young Jiang, introduce your great master to your friend here."

This old man… For all his talk about being a disciple of Wudang, he sure does love bragging about his status.

"I-It's nothing! Just talking to myself."

If I tell Yujin the truth—that I've been talking to a voice in my head ever since I picked up that sword—he'll think I've lost it from the humiliation earlier.

"We should head back first."

Yujin gives me a suspicious look but doesn't press further. With that, we make our way back to the living quarters.

As soon as we entered, I made my way straight to my bed, ignoring the glances from the others. For a moment, I wanted to shrink away like before—to keep my head down and avoid their stares—but I couldn't keep doing that.

Instead, I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and walked with purpose, as if none of it bothered me. It was a small act, but at least it was a start.

Tomorrow will be a new day—a chance to prove that I can be just as good as them, if not better.

With that thought, a comforting warmth of qi spreads through my body, a silent sign of approval from Juan Lei. As sleep takes hold, I let it wash over me.

But it doesn't last long.

"Wake up, young Jiang."

A sharp voice rings in my head, dragging me out of my sleep. I groan, barely cracking my eyes open, only to find the room still shrouded in darkness. The usual morning sounds—the distant chatter of disciples, the rhythmic clash of training swords—are nowhere to be heard.

"The others won't be up for hours," Juan Lei says, his tone far too eager for this time of night. "But you? You have training to do."

I blink the sleep from my eyes. "It's still dark out…"

"Perfect time to start. Get up."

I sigh, rubbing my face before forcing myself upright. Outside, the faintest hint of dawn barely graces the horizon. Looks like my training begins earlier than expected.

"Can I at least change first?" I grumble, realizing only now that I'd gone to bed still in my clothes, too eager to finally grow stronger—to change—and, more importantly, to uncover the true purpose behind this strange mission and Juan Lei himself.

Before I can move, my qi begins to drain from my body once more, and in an instant, Juan Lei materializes before me. This time, his expression gleams with childlike excitement, his eyes practically shining.

"Time is of the essence, young Jiang!" He laughs proudly, hands on his waist like some triumphant hero.

Before I can argue, he lifts a hand and declares, "Now then, do exactly as I do!"

I rub my eyes, still groggy, as Juan Lei's sword shimmers under the pale moonlight. His movements are mesmerizing—fluid like a mountain stream, his blade drifting like a leaf caught in a lazy current.

"Come," he says, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind.

I hesitate. The form is familiar—I've studied the Taiji Sword before. But something about the way he moves feels different, beyond mere technique. It isn't a rigid set of motions but a conversation with the world itself.

"You are thinking too much, young Jiang." His tone is light, almost teasing, as if amused by my hesitation.

I lift a sword from the rack and step forward. The moment I move, something is off. My steps feel heavy. My arms stiff. The sword doesn't flow—it stumbles.

Juan Lei chuckles softly. "Like a stone rolling uphill... you resist the path instead of following it."

Frustration flickers in my chest. I know this technique—I've practiced it! But here, under his gaze, it feels foreign, clumsy.

With a serene smile, Juan Lei steps beside me. His fingers barely brush my wrist, and at that moment, a ripple of qi flows into me—not a surge, not a command, but a whisper upon still waters.

It spreads gently, winding through my meridians like a stream meandering through the earth, seeking its natural course. My muscles loosen, not because they are forced to, but because they remember how they are meant to move.

The weight in my arms lightens, not because the sword is any less real, but because the flow now carries it. My stance shifts ever so slightly—not by conscious effort, but as a leaf surrendering to the wind, finding its rightful path through the air.

"You resist the river," Juan Lei murmurs, his voice distant, yet all-encompassing. "Let it carry you instead."

I exhale, and the world exhales with me. My grip softens. My steps adjust. The blade moves—not as an extension of my will, but as something attuned to the rhythm of all things.

For the first time, I do not struggle against the movement. I become part of it.

"Let go. Listen to the breath of the night… the rhythm of the world around you."

I inhale. Slowly. The night air is cool, carrying the distant rustling of leaves, the faint murmur of a hidden stream. My grip softens. My stance loosens.

This time, when I move, the blade flows just a little smoother. Not perfect—not yet—but different. A step forward.

Juan Lei smiles, his form growing fainter the more qi that enters me. He does not vanish with finality, only melts into the moonlight, as if stepping into another part of the world.

Yet he remains. Not as a voice, but as a presence, as a rhythm beneath my feet.

For the first time, I am not just practicing a technique. I am listening.

After what feels like an eternity, the first light of dawn breaks across the horizon, illuminating my dance once more.

With it come Elder Jung-hi and Instructor Yuan, following their usual morning routine. Instructor Yuan notices me first, his ever-warm smile appearing as he watches. Elder Jung-hi, however, pauses. Just for a moment, I catch something unexpected in his gaze—approval. A fleeting look, as if this was something he had long been waiting for.

Then, without a word, they continue on their path, leaving me with the rising sun and the quiet hum of my own steady breath.

Suddenly a sharp ache pulses through my arms, the weight of the sword suddenly unbearable. My legs tremble, muscles screaming from the hours of silent toil. I hadn't even noticed—too caught up in the rhythm, too guided by the qi reinforcing my body. But now, with nothing left to sustain me, the pain floods in, raw and undeniable.

I drop to my knees—not in defeat, but in satisfaction. The embers within my eyes burn once more, reignited.

"How's that for a lesson, young Jiang?" Juan Lei chuckles, his voice brimming with amusement. "Before you can even dream of mastering the Flowing River Sword Art, you need to grasp the basics. Otherwise, you'll just be flailing that sword around, wasting its full potential!"

As the words faded, the blue panel reappeared—but this time, it flowed in like elegant calligraphy, as if now in slight harmony with the world around it.

"The first step toward change has been achieved."

[Hidden Mission Completed: Be One with the River]

"The embers of your will ignite anew, tempered by understanding."

Objective: Learn your first lesson from your new master.

Reward: Epiphany of the Taiji Sword.

With that, the panel vanished once more—but not before washing away some of the strain in my muscles, as if I had just woken from deep rest. A newfound clarity settled within me, an instinctive understanding of the technique now embedded in my mind.

"Incredible… even from within your mind, I can already sense it." Juan Lei's voice brimmed with excitement and awe. "To grasp such understanding from just this alone… This cannot be Dao… and yet, it guides you like one. Truly remarkable."

Around us, disciples stirred, waking one by one as they made their way to the training grounds.

I took a deep breath, standing tall as the first light of morning bathed Wudang in gold.

"A single step marks the beginning of a thousand. Today, I take mine." I declared to myself, the first step of change achieved.