Chapter 27 – Healing and Pressure.

Evening draped Qinghe Village in its warm amber glow. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, casting soft halos against the homes carved into the hillside.

Inside Old Yun's modest clinic, Yun Long lay shirtless on a straw mat, the deep scrape along his ribs glistening with salve. His breath came in steady intervals, though the memory of the boar's charge still echoed in his chest like a hammer's strike.

Madam Su sat beside him, dipping a cloth into warm herbal water and dabbing his bruises with gentle care. Her brows were slightly furrowed — with worry.

"Hold still," she said softly.

"It doesn't hurt," Yun Long murmured.

"You're lying."

He gave a weak smile. "Maybe a little."

Old Yun stood by the open window, arms crossed behind his back, peering into the fading light. The old man had said little since they brought Yun Long back. Not even after hearing of the boar.

Finally, he spoke. "You fought with your head, not just your limbs."

Yun Long blinked. "Is… that bad?"

"It's rare," Old Yun said. "Especially for someone who hasn't even completed Bone Strengthening."

Yun Long's mouth opened, then closed.

He had felt it — something during that fight. Not strength, exactly, but a strange flow. A sharp calmness. Like every inch of his skin had been listening.

Madam Su wrung out the cloth, sighing. "That beast… it shouldn't have come this close. And its hide…"

Old Yun nodded. "Cracked. Marked. Like something disturbed its natural flow."

He turned to Yun Long. "Tell me again what you felt. From the start."

Yun Long obeyed. He spoke of the scent of blood, the hooves, the mist, the fear. He described the moment when the air around him slowed, when his body felt clearer — faster — like instinct carried him.

Old Yun was quiet for a long time.

Then he sighed and sat beside him.

"You're growing, boy. That tonic is doing its work."

"I can feel it," Yun Long whispered. "But… it's not just strength. I felt heat, too. And when I hit it… something in me moved."

Old Yun rubbed his chin. "Qi?."

"But I haven't even reached the next stage, have I?"

"No." The old man looked at him firmly. "And that's the problem, we don't know that yet."

Yun Long blinked.

"Cultivation isn't just about letting energy flow. It's about guiding it. Anchoring it. Without roots, a tree falls in the first storm. You're probably beginning to stir Qi before completing the physical foundation. That's dangerous."

"But…" Yun Long frowned. "I didn't try to."

"I know," Old Yun said. "Which means somehow you are reacting faster to qi than it should be. We'll have to be careful."

He rose and went to his medicine shelf, selecting a tiny wrapped bundle of dried leaves and placing it on the table.

"This is a Bloodroot Draught. Boil it tomorrow and drink it with a raw egg. It will harden your meridians. Slow things down."

"Slow… them down?" Yun Long echoed.

Old Yun nodded. "You're a pot with a fire under it. But if the pot cracks before it boils, you lose everything. I'd rather you be slow and whole than fast and broken."

Yun Long swallowed. "Yes, Father."

Madam Su gave him a reassuring pat on the leg and gathered the cloth. "Now rest. No more heroic fights today."

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That night, Yun Long lay in bed, eyes wide open.

There was no pain. Just a pressure building quietly in his chest. Not heavy. Not crushing. Just there. A reminder.

He touched the small pouch hidden beneath his shirt where the stone rested.

It was warm again.

And in the distance, somewhere beyond the hills, a wind shifted.

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