The Path of Strength

Njuwa's breath came in heavy gasps as he steadied himself, gripping his staff tightly. The cool night air did little to soothe the burning in his muscles, nor did it ease the sting of failure. He had tried again and again to strike Nyoka, but each time, she evaded him as if she were dancing on the wind.

His body ached, his ribs throbbed where she had struck him, yet his spirit burned hotter than ever. He would not give up.

Nyoka watched him in silence, her sharp eyes reflecting the flickering light of the torches they had set up around the clearing. "You are stubborn," she said finally.

Njuwa wiped the sweat from his brow. "And I will keep trying."

Her lips curled in a faint smile. "Good."

The old woman turned, walking back toward the hut. "Rest for tonight. Tomorrow, we will begin a different kind of training."

Jengo, who had been watching from a short distance, let out a groan of relief. "Finally! I thought you two were going to be out here all night."

Njuwa ignored him, still gripping his staff tightly. He wasn't ready to stop. He wasn't ready to rest. But he knew that pushing himself past his limit without a plan would do more harm than good. With a deep breath, he followed Nyoka back toward the hut.

---

Morning came too soon.

Before the sun had fully risen, Nyoka was already calling them outside. The air was crisp, the grass damp with morning dew. Njuwa and Jengo stood in the clearing, still shaking off sleep.

"What are we doing today?" Jengo asked, rubbing his eyes.

Nyoka held up a single stone, no larger than a fist. "Catch."

She tossed it toward Jengo. He caught it easily, looking unimpressed. "That's it? Catching rocks now?"

Nyoka's lips twitched. "Hold onto that thought."

She picked up another stone and turned to Njuwa. "You too."

Njuwa caught the stone she threw, frowning in confusion.

"Your next task is simple," she continued. "Do not let go of that stone. Not while training, not while eating, not even while sleeping."

Jengo groaned. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Nyoka said flatly. "You want strength? You want control? Then learn to hold onto something despite pain, exhaustion, or distraction."

Jengo looked at the stone as if it had personally insulted him. "This is ridiculous."

Nyoka raised an eyebrow. "Then quit."

Jengo scowled but said nothing.

Njuwa, on the other hand, squeezed the stone in his palm, feeling its rough edges press against his skin. It was a small thing, but if Nyoka was making them do this, there had to be a reason.

---

By midday, the weight of the stone had become unbearable.

At first, it had seemed easy—just holding a rock. But after hours of training, running, and sparring while keeping a tight grip on it, his fingers cramped, his palm ached, and his arm felt like it might fall off.

Jengo had started grumbling long ago. "I don't see the point of this!"

Nyoka sat calmly on a nearby log, watching them struggle. "Tell me, Jengo, what happens when your weapon is knocked from your hands in a fight?"

Jengo blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… I guess I'd have to grab it again?"

Nyoka nodded. "And if you don't have time? If your enemy does not give you the chance?"

Jengo swallowed hard.

"Your grip is your last defense," Nyoka continued. "Your hands should never betray you. If you cannot hold onto a simple stone, how will you hold onto your weapon in battle? How will you hold onto your life?"

Silence followed her words.

Njuwa clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the stone. The pain in his fingers was sharp, but he forced himself to endure. He would not be weak.

Jengo sighed. "Fine, I get it."

"Good," Nyoka said. "Now, continue."

---

Days passed, and the training continued.

Every morning, they woke before dawn, their stones still clenched in their hands. They ran through the forest, climbed trees, and trained with their staffs—all while holding onto their stones.

At night, their fingers cramped so badly they could barely move them. Yet, Njuwa did not let go.

Neither did Jengo, though he complained endlessly.

One evening, after a brutal day of training, Nyoka sat beside the fire, watching them with an amused expression.

"You have lasted longer than I expected," she admitted.

Jengo groaned. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

Nyoka smirked. "Both."

Njuwa flexed his fingers, feeling the callouses forming on his palm. His grip was stronger now, steadier. He could feel the change.

But it still wasn't enough.

"Nyoka," he said suddenly. "When will we start learning cultivation?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You think you are ready?"

Njuwa hesitated. "I don't know."

She studied him carefully before nodding. "Then it is time you find out."

---

That night, Nyoka led them deeper into the forest, far from the clearing where they trained. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting eerie shadows along the ground.

Finally, they reached a small stream, its waters glistening under the pale light.

Nyoka knelt by the water's edge, dipping her fingers into the cool liquid. "Cultivation is not about brute strength. It is about balance. About harmony between body, mind, and spirit."

She turned to face them. "Close your eyes."

Njuwa did as she instructed, inhaling deeply.

"Feel the air around you," she said softly. "Feel the earth beneath your feet. The water flowing beside you. The fire within you."

Njuwa focused, letting the world around him seep into his senses. He heard the rustling of the trees, the gentle flow of the stream, the distant chirping of insects.

Then—something else.

A pulse. A faint energy flowing through the air, through the ground, through him.

His eyes snapped open. "I felt something."

Nyoka nodded. "Good. That is the first step."

Jengo frowned. "I didn't feel anything."

Nyoka chuckled. "Patience."

She stood, looking at them both. "From now on, your training will change. You will still train your bodies, but you will also train your spirit. Only when you can harness the flow of energy around you will you truly begin to cultivate."

Njuwa's heart pounded.

He was finally on the path to power.

The path to saving Kifo.

And he would not fail.