The Weight Of Progress
Wang Shi exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool mountain air. His muscles ached, his robes were damp with sweat, and yet… he felt nothing but frustration.
He had been at this for hours, following the instructions Bai Lu had left for him. The exercises, the techniques, the breathing patterns—he repeated them all with precision. And yet, when he reached out to sense the spiritual energy around him, all he found was silence.
No surge of power. No enlightenment.
Just an endless, suffocating void.
His hands clenched into fists. Why wasn't it working?
He sat cross-legged on the stone platform, staring at the vast sky above. Bai Lu had made it look effortless, as though the very air bent to her will. Compared to that, his own efforts felt like trying to grasp mist with bare hands.
He sighed, closing his eyes.
The words of his mother's letter surfaced in his mind.
"Do not seek strength as others do. It is not only in power that destiny is forged, but in understanding why one must wield it."
Wang Shi frowned. Understanding…?
His thoughts drifted—back to the court, back to the betrayal that took everything from him. Back to the weight of the name he carried. The burden of being his mother's son.
He had never questioned whether he needed strength. Of course he did. But why?
To reclaim his rightful place? To uncover the truth? To simply survive?
He inhaled deeply. The energy in the air did not come to him forcefully, but there was something there—a faint pulse. A rhythm.
For the first time, he did not try to seize it. Instead, he listened.
And slowly, he felt it.
It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was real. A connection, fragile but present.
His heart pounded.
It was working.
A quiet determination settled in his chest. Bai Lu wasn't here to guide him this time, but that didn't matter. He would figure this out.
No—he had to.
Wang Shi opened his eyes, the frustration replaced with something steadier.
He wasn't there yet.
But he would be.
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