After discovering that his Chi Core was Yin-Yang in nature, Sun Shi found his body struggling to contain its overwhelming energy. It wasn't massive in size, but the raw intensity of it rivaled that of a Second Disciple in their sect. The moment he realized what lay inside him, he knew he needed to temper his body to survive it.
Day after day, he trained relentlessly—punching, running, meditating—strengthening muscle and spirit alike. He devoured meat like a starving wolf, every bite fueling the furnace within. And yet, his core still pulsed with barely restrained power, a storm within calm skin.
Instructor Li found him mid-session one afternoon, drenched in sweat, fists bleeding from hours of striking wood and stone.
"You plan on teaching anytime soon?" Li asked, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
Sun Shi stood tall, panting but smiling. "After the tournament."
Li blinked. "You think you can actually win against the higher sects?"
Sun Shi looked to the sky, a faint smirk forming. "Well, not all hope is lost."
Li grunted, unimpressed. "Hmph. Let's see how long that smile lasts."
Sun Shi turned to him with curiosity. "Can I use any martial art in the tournament?"
Li nodded. "It's a battle between styles. You can use whatever your sect represents."
He gestured as he spoke, naming off the competition.
"The Divine Palm Sect has their prodigy—Wen Tao. He's already mastered up to the Eighth Palm. Their Chief only reached the Sixth."
Sun Shi whistled. "Sounds like a headache."
"Then there's the Iron Knuckle Sect," Li continued. "Their top student, Huo Zhen, mastered all nine Iron Forms. They say his fists can crack boulders."
"Wonderful," Sun Shi muttered.
"And lastly, the Falling Lotus Sect," Li said, his tone softening slightly. "Their genius, Lan Mei, beat every Seventh Disciple in her sect. She's one of the favorites to win."
Sun Shi leaned against the wooden post, amused. "Alright, so what's our sect again?"
Li looked straight into his eyes, voice firm. "The Shaolin Sect."
Sun Shi raised a brow. "Still? Even after all this?"
Li narrowed his eyes. "Can we still call ourselves that if our students think our martial arts are useless?"
Sun Shi grinned. "Because it is."
Li sighed. "Your arrogance knows no limit."
The two laughed, the weight between them briefly lifting.
But then Sun Shi turned serious. "Instructor... what's the ranking of Chi Core colors?"
Li straightened up, shifting back into teacher mode. "It goes: Yellow, Orange, Green, Blue, Purple, and Red—Red being the strongest."
Sun Shi frowned. "What about White?"
Li scratched his chin. "White Cores are special. Not strong, not weak. They're typically for medicine, healing, and internal arts."
"And Black?"
Li fell silent, a rare pause that carried weight.
"That's... the mark of the Demonic Sect," he finally said, voice low. "Those with Black Cores walk a dangerous path."
Sun Shi stared at the dirt, thinking hard. "Is it possible... to have both? White and Black?"
Li blinked. "What? Like... Yin and Yang?"
"Yes."
The instructor gave a soft, breathy laugh. "Then it would be a Celestial Core."
Sun Shi's eyes widened slightly. He said nothing, but his fists clenched.
—
The following days were merciless. He trained harder than ever, determined to stabilize the dual nature of his core. And finally, one morning, the chaos in his body felt balanced. Like the tides had calmed. Like Yin and Yang had found harmony.
He walked to the training grounds, where wooden dummies waited silently under the sun. Taking a deep breath, he entered a boxing stance—clean, modern, nothing like the ancient stances his peers practiced.
He jabbed.
It was quick. Clean. Controlled.
The moment his fist met the dummy's surface, a shockwave burst from the back. The dummy didn't just crack—it exploded, its back launching off like it had been struck by lightning from within.
The sound echoed across the grounds like a cannon blast.
Instructors turned their heads. Students froze mid-practice. Even the Sect Chief, in the middle of a tea ceremony, stood up.
They all rushed to the source of the noise.
And there stood Sun Shi, fists lowered, body steady, eyes wide with disbelief at what he'd just done.
Behind him, the shattered dummy smoldered slightly.
Silence fell over the training grounds as everyone gathered.
No one spoke.
Not the students, mouths agape.
Not the instructors, stunned into silence.
And not the Chief, who stared long and hard at Sun Shi's stance—so foreign, so powerful, so... effective.
For a moment, even Sun Shi didn't know what to say.
But deep within, the Yin and Yang swirled together in perfect balance, and he knew: the path he walked was no longer that of the old Shaolin, nor that of any modern fighter.
It was something new. Something terrifying.
And it had only just begun.