The black water of the sect's lake rippled against the shore, disturbed only by the sudden gust of the morning wind. Yang Lujia stood by the edge. He held a thick stack of blank vellum sheets in his left hand.
"Most cultivators treat the First Page like a fragile antique," Yang Lujia said. He tossed the vellum onto the dirt. The sheets scattered across the wet stones. "They lock themselves in quiet rooms. They swallow outrageously expensive Ink Elixirs forged by Ink Apothecaries. They sit cross-legged for hours, carefully drawing ambient Ink into their pores to slowly temper their muscles and bones."
Lin Diyu stood with his full attention fixed on his master. This lesson marked the true beginning of his Page cultivation.
His charcoal uniform was crisp, though it hung slightly loose on his underfed frame.
Qin Tou floated nearby, mimicking his friend's rigid posture, though his translucent feet bobbed inches above the grass.
