My Legs Are My New Secret Weapon

That super kick. The one that sent a simple rock flying over the horizon like a green comet.

It wasn't just a fluke. In the month that followed, I spent every spare moment in that secret clearing, experimenting.

I tried with bigger rocks, smaller pebbles, even dried-up gourds. Each time, with a focused burst of spiritual energy from my legs, I could send them soaring.

I could aim them, make them curve, even make them bounce a few times before shooting off into the distance. 

I was still nine years old, but the changes were undeniable. My Skin Tempering cultivation had solidified, making my body feel like it was carved from sturdy oak rather than flimsy willow.

My father, bless his traditional heart, continued to teach me the wooden sword, and I continued to learn. My footwork was now incredibly agile, my blocks precise, my strikes swift.

I wasn't just swinging a piece of wood; I was moving with a fluidity that surprised even Papa. He'd often shake his head, a wide grin on his face. "You're a natural, Zhen'er! A true natural!" He thought it was the sword.

I knew it was the legs. But I wasn't about to correct him. He was too happy.

My hunting skills had also sharpened to an almost uncanny degree.

I could now track game not just by sight, but by the faintest scent, the most subtle shift in the wind. My bowmanship was so accurate that I rarely missed a shot, bringing home enough game to keep our family well-fed and even trade some for other necessities in the village.

I had become the primary provider of meat, a role that filled me with immense satisfaction.

Papa, seeing my rapid, almost miraculous progress, became even more convinced of my future. One evening, as we sat by the fire, the twins asleep, he looked at me with serious, hopeful eyes.

"Wu Zhen," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You are truly blessed. Your talent… it's something I've never seen before. You will become a great cultivator, my son. Greater than anyone in our family has ever dreamed."

I felt a warm glow in my chest at his words. His belief in me was a powerful fuel.

"I've been thinking," he continued, stoking the fire. "When you turn twelve, I want to send you to a sect. A proper cultivation sect. They have the resources, the techniques, the masters who can truly guide you. You'll learn advanced sword arts, powerful cultivation methods… everything you need to reach the peak."

A sect? It sounded grand, terrifying, and exciting all at once.

It was a common dream for aspiring cultivators, but for a poor village boy like me, it felt like a distant fantasy. But Papa was serious.

"Of course, Papa," I said, my voice steady. "I'll go. I'll make you proud." The thought of leaving my family, even for a grand future, was a little daunting, but the idea of gaining true power, power that could protect them from anything, was too strong to resist.

Life wasn't just about training, though. Even a budding cultivator needs friends.

In our small village, I had two.

The first was Jin, a boy a year older than me, with a mop of unruly brown hair and a perpetually mischievous grin.

Jin was my hunting buddy. He wasn't a cultivator, but he had an incredible knack for finding trouble, and an even better knack for spotting ripe berries. He was quick, agile, and surprisingly good at climbing trees to flush out birds.

"Wu Zhen! You're late!" Jin would shout, already halfway up a tree, when I arrived at our usual meeting spot.

"Just finishing up my… morning exercises," I'd reply, trying to sound casual, avoiding mentioning the spiritual energy stuff. He wouldn't get it, and I didn't want to sound like I was bragging.

We'd spend hours in the forest, tracking, setting snares, and mostly, just talking. Jin was a chatterbox, filling the silence with stories about village gossip, his latest pranks, and his dreams of one day owning a cart full of the sweetest honey.

He was a grounding presence, a reminder of the simple joys of childhood in a world that often felt overwhelmingly complex. He was also a terrible shot with a bow, which meant I did most of the actual hunting.

My other friend was Ling. She was my age, with bright, intelligent eyes and a quiet determination that belied her small frame.

Ling lived a few huts down from ours, and her family was even poorer than mine. She had seen the struggles, the fear in her parents' eyes, and she had a burning desire to cultivate, to change her family's fate.

One day, she approached me, her gaze steady. "Wu Zhen, I heard… I heard you broke through to Skin Tempering."

I nodded, surprised she knew. News traveled fast in a small village, even if I tried to keep my cultivation low-key.

"Will you… will you teach me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but filled with a desperate hope.

"My parents can't afford to send me to a master. But I want to be strong. I need to be strong."

Her plea hit me hard. It was the same burning desire I had felt, the same need to protect. And I remembered Papa's patience, his unwavering belief in me, even when I felt like a failure.

"I don't know much beyond the basics, Ling," I admitted. "And it's really hard. I tried for years before anything happened."

"I don't care how hard it is," she said, her eyes shining. "I'll try harder. Please, Wu Zhen."

So, I started teaching Ling. Every evening, after my own training and hunting, we'd sit in a quiet corner of the village, away from prying eyes.

I'd show her the breathing techniques, the focus exercises, the way Papa had taught me. She was diligent, incredibly focused, her small brow furrowed in concentration.

It was a slow process. Ling didn't have the mysterious boost I'd gotten from the boulder.

She was like me, before the kick. She tried, day after day, week after week, with no discernible progress.

I saw her frustration, the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but she never gave up. She just kept trying, her quiet determination a constant source of admiration for me.

It also made me realize just how lucky I had been. Without that orb, without that strange, powerful surge, I might still be struggling, just like her. Cultivation, for most, was a long, arduous, and often fruitless journey.

"..."

Two more years passed in a blur of training, hunting, and teaching. I was now eleven.

And I was strong. My Skin Tempering had deepened, making my body incredibly resilient.

I could run for hours without tiring, my movements a blur of speed and agility. My swordplay, under Papa's continued guidance, had become surprisingly refined.

I could parry multiple strikes, launch swift counter-attacks, and move with a grace that even Papa, with his limited knowledge, recognized as exceptional. He'd often just watch me, a look of profound pride on his face.

But it wasn't just physical strength. My understanding of spiritual energy had also deepened. I had spent countless hours reading the few, tattered cultivation scrolls Papa owned, learning about the realms beyond Skin Tempering. I now knew the next three layers:

Skin Tempering:

The foundation, strengthening the body's outer layer.

Flesh Strengthening:

The next step, making muscles and internal organs more robust.

Bone Refinement:

Hardening the bones, making them incredibly durable.

Meridian Cleansing:

Purifying the meridians, allowing spiritual energy to flow more smoothly and powerfully.

I understood the theory, but the practice of moving beyond Skin Tempering felt… distant.

I could feel the energy in my body, but pushing it to the next stage, to truly strengthen my flesh, seemed like hitting a wall. It was frustrating.

It made me think that perhaps my cultivation talent was bad, and that initial breakthrough was just a fluke, a one-time gift from that mysterious orb.

It was the only explanation for why I felt stuck now, even with all my practice.

But even if my traditional cultivation was slow, my other talent was flourishing.

My "kicking" ability had become incredibly precise. I could now kick a pebble with enough force and accuracy to hit a specific leaf on a tree fifty paces away.

I could make a small stone skip across the surface of the river five times before sinking. It was like my legs were becoming extensions of my will, capable of feats of incredible power and control.

One afternoon, Jin, Ling, and I were by the river. Jin was trying to skip stones, failing spectacularly, while Ling was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, trying to sense spiritual energy.

I was practicing my kicks, sending small, flat stones skimming across the water.

"You know, Wu Zhen," Jin said, throwing a stone that promptly sank. "You're really good at that. You could probably kick a fish right out of the water!"

I chuckled. "Maybe. But what's the point? It's not cultivation."

Ling opened her eyes, a faint frown on her face. "It's still impressive, Wu Zhen. I still can't even feel a wisp of energy." Her voice was tinged with disappointment.

"Don't worry, Ling," I said, offering her a reassuring smile. "Keep trying. It took me a long time too. You'll get there." I knew, deep down, that she probably wouldn't get the same sudden boost I did. She'd have to work harder than anyone.

As I spoke, I picked up a perfectly round, smooth stone, about the size of a small apple. An idea sparked in my mind. 

"Hey, Jin," I said, a mischievous glint in my eye. "You think you could catch this?"

Jin, always up for a challenge, grinned. "Try me, cultivator boy! I'm faster than I look!"

I grinned back. "Alright. Stand over there, by that big willow tree."

Jin jogged over, puffing out his chest. Ling watched, curious.

I placed the stone on the ground. I took a deep breath, focusing the spiritual energy into my right leg, channeling it, shaping it. This wasn't just a kick. This was a shot.

With a powerful, fluid motion, I swung my foot.

WHOOSH!

The stone didn't just fly; it screamed through the air, a blur of grey, heading straight for Jin. It wasn't aimed at him, but slightly to his side, at the trunk of the willow tree.

Jin, who had been bracing himself for a normal throw, gasped. His eyes widened as the stone whizzed past his ear with a terrifying whoosh, slamming into the willow tree.

CRACK!.. A small chunk of bark exploded from the tree trunk.

Jin stood frozen, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock. He looked at the smoking indentation in the tree, then at me, then back at the tree.

"W-Wu Zhen…" he stammered, his mischievous grin replaced by genuine awe.

"What… what was that? That wasn't just a kick!"

Ling, who had jumped at the sound, stared at the tree, then at me. Her eyes, usually so serious, were now filled with a mixture of fear and wonder.

I just stood there, my foot still slightly raised, a triumphant, slightly sheepish grin on my face. That was it. That was the power. It wasn't a sword, or a cultivation technique from a scroll. It was my kick.