Tie Shan's question hung in the charged air between them, heavy as unshed rain.
"Do you still desire strength above all else?"
For Fang Shen, standing at the precipice of utter despair, the words were not a query but a lifeline thrown into a bottomless abyss. Strength. It was the antidote to the fear that had haunted him since the day his world collapsed. It was the shield against becoming collateral damage ever again. It was the only currency that mattered in a world where indifferent power could erase you without a second thought.
His mind, moments before drowning, scrambled towards that lifeline with the frantic energy of a cornered animal. Doubts clawed briefly at the edges—who was this man? What path could he possibly offer when the established Sects, the pinnacles of cultivation, had judged him worthless? Was this some cruel trick, a new flavor of torment?
But one look into Tie Shan's steady, unreadable eyes seemed to quell the immediate panic. There was no mockery there, no deceit he could discern. Only a calm, assessing weight, an offer presented as plain fact. And beneath the numbness, the desperate yearning roared back to life, consuming caution, consuming reason.
Before Tie Shan could elaborate, before any semblance of rational thought could take root in the fertile ground of his desperation, the answer tore from Fang Shen's throat, raw and fervent.
"Yes!" His voice cracked, thin but fierce. He took a stumbling step forward, eyes wide and fixed on the tall stranger, oblivious to the dust motes dancing in the sunlit air between them. "Yes, I desire strength! More than anything! I'll do whatever it takes! Please!"
The sheer, unvarnished speed of his acceptance seemed to catch Tie Shan slightly off guard. A flicker of something—surprise? assessment?—crossed the man's stoic features before settling back into impassive gravity. He gave a slow, deliberate nod, as if confirming a hypothesis. This raw, unthinking desperation… It was potent fuel. Perhaps the only fuel potent enough for the furnace Fang Shen was unknowingly begging to be thrown into.
Tie Shan allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, letting the weight of Fang Shen's fervent plea hang in the air. Then, his voice, still calm, gained a sharp, cutting edge, a surgeon's precision lancing through the boy's fragile hope.
"Good," he stated simply. "But understand this, boy. Words are easily spoken. The conviction behind them must be forged." He paused, ensuring he had Fang Shen's complete, undivided attention. "The path I offer is not the elegant dance of Qi the Sects teach, drawing refined energy into a receptive Nexus. Your Nexus," he stated it as simple fact, not condemnation, "is unsuitable for that. Our path uses the vessel rejected by theirs."
He took a step closer, his presence suddenly immense. "It is brutal. It is painful beyond your current imagining. It is called Body Cultivation." The name landed heavily, unfamiliar yet ominous. "It is an art considered dead by most, a path abandoned for good reason. It demands not just will, not just desire, but the capacity to endure constant, profound suffering as the very method of advancement."
Fang Shen swallowed, the initial elation now tinged with a creeping unease. Pain beyond imagining? Constant suffering? But the memory of the Selection, the cultivator's dismissive wave, the cold finality of the unresponsive Stone, hardened his resolve. What choice did he have? Weakness was a slower, more certain death.
"I… I understand," Fang Shen managed, though the truth was he understood nothing except that this was his only chance. "I will endure."
Tie Shan regarded him for another long moment, his dark eyes searching Fang Shen's face. Then, seemingly satisfied, he gave another curt nod. "We shall see." He turned abruptly. "Gather nothing. What you need, you will earn, build, or take from the world itself. Follow me."
Without a backward glance, Tie Shan began walking, heading west, towards the colossal, sun-drenched flank of the nearest Cardinal Mountain. His stride was long and utterly steady, eating up the distance with deceptive ease.
Fang Shen hesitated for only a heartbeat. Leave everything? His shack, meager as it was, had been his home for the last seven years, since his parents died. But the past was ashes, and the uncertain future lay with the man striding away from him. He cast one fleeting look at the leaning wooden walls before he broke into a determined jog, scrambling to catch up to Tie Shan's imposing figure.
They walked in silence initially, leaving the last scattered homes of the village behind, the sounds of civilization fading into the chirping of insects and the rustle of wind through dry grass. The terrain grew rougher, the path less defined, winding through rocky outcrops and thorny brush. Fang Shen, still wiry and fueled by adrenaline, kept pace, though his breathing soon grew labored. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and Fang Shen's mounting anxiety.
Finally, unable to bear the tension, he ventured a question with a breathless voice. "Master Tie Shan… where exactly are we going?"
Tie Shan didn't slow his pace. "Somewhere suitable," he replied cryptically. "Somewhere your screams won't attract unwanted attention."
Fang Shen flinched. Screams? Plural? A cold knot formed in his stomach, but he pressed on, needing to understand at least the basics. "And… Body Cultivation? You said it uses the body… and pain?"
"Qi Cultivators refine Qi from their Spirit Root within their Nexus," Tie Shan explained, his voice calm and lecture-like, presenting basic facts. "They nurture a seed of power. We," he rapped his own chest lightly, "take a different approach. We temper the physical vessel itself—bone, blood, muscle, sinew—using the raw, untamed Qi that floods the world. External Qi. It is abundant, powerful… and caustic to the unprepared flesh. Drawing it in, forcing it to reshape you… it burns. It breaks. It rebuilds. The pain is the forge's fire."
"But… why?" Fang Shen asked, struggling to grasp the logic. "Why choose such a path if the Sects offer another way?"
"The Sects offer their way only to those whose Nexus aligns," Tie Shan stated flatly. "Body Cultivation is a path for those the heavens gave no inherent shortcuts. The desperate." His gaze flickered sideways towards Fang Shen for a fraction of a second. "The 'talentless' in the eyes of the Sects. But dismiss it not entirely. It has strengths they overlook." He paused, letting Fang Shen absorb this. "Qi masters wield incredible power, yes. But deplete their carefully nurtured reserves, exhaust their Qi Nexus, and they become vulnerable, sometimes little more than mortals. Our power," a low thrum seemed to enter his voice, "is etched deep within us. It relies on endurance, on stamina that regenerates far faster than compressed internal Qi. A Body Cultivator, Fang Shen, is only truly powerless when they are dead."
Fang Shen absorbed this, the concept settling alongside his fear. Stamina versus Qi reserves. A path for the 'talentless'. It sounded harsh, brutal, but direct. He opened his mouth to ask more—about why it was a 'dead' art, about the dangers beyond pain—but Tie Shan cut him off, his voice sharpening slightly.
"Enough questions for now. Observe. Conserve your energy. The path ahead demands focus, not chatter." He glanced back briefly, his expression serious, conveying a weight that silenced Fang Shen with immediate effectiveness. "Prepare yourself for what is to come."
Fang Shen clamped his mouth shut, chastened. Prepare himself? How? He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, mimicking Tie Shan's steady rhythm, but his face was pulled tight as his mind raced with a turbulent mix of grim anticipation and a stubborn refusal to turn back.
They walked for hours, climbing steadily into the rugged foothills of the Western Mountain. The air grew cooler, thinner. The sounds of the valley were long gone, replaced by the sighing of the wind through sparse, hardy pines and the distant cry of some unseen bird of prey. Finally, as the afternoon sun began its slow descent towards the jagged horizon, Tie Shan stopped.
They stood before a desolate cliff face, a sheer wall of grey rock scarred by time and weather. At its base, nestled amongst a jumble of lesser rocks, was what looked like the mouth of a cave. Or rather, what had been the mouth of a cave. A massive collapse had choked the entrance almost completely, sealing it shut with a formidable barricade of fallen stones and heavy boulders, some easily as large as Fang Shen himself. It looked less like a cave entrance and more like a grave marker for whatever lay within.
"We are here," Tie Shan announced simply.
Fang Shen looked from the imposing wall of rubble to his new Master, confusion plain on his face. "Here? But… it's blocked. Completely."
Tie Shan gestured towards the chaos of stone with one impassive hand. "This cave," he said, "will be your sanctuary. Your training ground. Your forge. But first, you must claim it."
The implication dawned slowly, horribly. "You mean…"
"Clear the entrance," Tie Shan confirmed, his voice flat, devoid of any consideration for the absurdity of the task. "Move the rocks."
Fang Shen stared, aghast. His gaze swept over the vast volume of debris. Small stones, jagged shards, heavy slabs, massive, rounded boulders. It was a mountain in miniature, sealing the dark maw of the cave. "But… Master!" His voice cracked slightly. "There must be thousands of them! Some are huge! It will take… days! Weeks!"
Tie Shan simply nodded, as if discussing the weather. "Perhaps," he conceded without inflection. "But a Body Cultivator's foundation is the body itself. Yours," his clinical gaze swept over Fang Shen's thin arms and legs, "is fragile. Untested. Body Cultivation multiplies your body's ability; two times two is four, but four times two is eight. As much as you cultivate, you shall train." He gestured at the rubble filling the cave's mouth. "Begin."
Without another word, Tie Shan stepped back, found a relatively flat slab of rock a short distance away, and sat down in a meditative posture with his legs crossed. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing, becoming almost imperceptible. He offered no tools, no advice, no further encouragement. Just the silent, implacable weight of his expectation.
For a moment, Fang Shen stood frozen, overwhelmed by the scale of the task. This wasn't cultivation; this was slave labor! Every instinct screamed at the impossibility, the unfairness. But then the memory of the Nexus Stone, cold and unresponsive beneath his hand, surfaced. The dismissive wave of the Sect cultivator. The gnawing terror of powerlessness. This was the path he had chosen, accepted with desperate haste.
This was the first price.
Gritting his teeth, determination hardening his features into a grim mask, Fang Shen turned to the formidable wall of rock. He started with the smaller stones, ones he could lift easily, tossing them aside. Then he moved to larger ones, requiring both hands, straining his back. Soon, he was wrestling with rocks that forced him to use his legs, his whole body, sweat stinging his eyes, muscles beginning to burn with exertion.
The sun dipped behind the mountains and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Fang Shen worked until his arms trembled uncontrollably, until his back screamed in protest, until his hands were rubbed raw. Tie Shan tossed him a waterskin and a chunk of hard, dried meat without comment when dusk fell. Fang drank greedily, gnawed on the tough meat, and collapsed onto the dusty ground, falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep almost instantly.
Dawn broke cold and sharp. His body ached in places he didn't know could ache. Every muscle protested as he forced himself upright. Tie Shan was already seated in meditation, seemingly unmoved. The pile of cleared rocks looked pitifully small compared to what remained. With a groan, Fang Shen resumed his Sisyphean task.
The second day was worse. The initial adrenaline was gone, replaced by bone-deep weariness and the fiery agony of blistered hands. He learned to brace his feet better, to use leverage, but the matrix of rocks was unending. He nearly wept with frustration when a larger boulder refused to budge, his small frame simply not strong enough. Tie Shan watched, silent without the slightest offer of help, an impassive presence that reminded Fang Shen of the expected standard.
All throughout his toil, his mind toyed with the concept of giving up. He wondered if Tie Shan wasn't simply using him as free labor, to clean out a cave for him, or perhaps it was simple sadism… But the confidence Tie Shan had spoken with, like someone who knew exactly what he was talking about, made it difficult for Fang Shen to doubt him… The promise of strength, even if it turned out to only have a one-percent chance of success, was enough for now. He would not give up, even with his hands blistering and his bones aching.
That night, sleep offered little respite from the pervasive aches.
The third day dawned with Fang Shen feeling hollowed out, running on fumes and stubbornness. His hands were wrapped in strips torn from the hem of his tunic, stained brownish-red where blisters had burst and bled. He moved slower, his motions driven by mechanical repetition rather than conscious thought. But slowly, with no small amount of agony, the passage grew deeper, allowing him a narrow glimpse of the cavern beyond. He focused on that opening, that small victory, pushing himself beyond what he thought possible.
Finally, as the sun once again began its descent on the third day, he heaved the last truly obstructive boulder aside, using a sturdy branch as a lever. It rolled away with a grating crunch, revealing a dark, man-sized opening into the cave beyond.
He had done it.
Fang Shen stood there, swaying on his feet with his chest heaving, covered head to toe in grime, sweat, and rock dust. His muscles twitched with exhaustion, his hands throbbed with pain, but a fierce spark of pride ignited within his weariness. He had faced the impossible task and through simple, grinding effort, he had prevailed.
"Master!" He breathed, calling out from the cave's entrance, "I did it!"
Tie Shan rose from his meditative posture, his movements fluid and silent. He walked over, inspecting the cleared passage, then glancing at his new disciple's ragged state. His expression remained unreadable.
"You have endured," Tie Shan stated, his voice holding neither praise nor censure. "Three days of suffering. Three days of struggle aimed in one direction." He gestured towards the dark opening Fang Shen had created. "And you have your reward—a space earned by your own effort. This cave now belongs to you." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Remember this feeling, Fang Shen. Effort yields results. Suffering carves progress."
A small, genuine smile touched Fang Shen's lips. He had earned this. It was the first real accomplishment of his life, bought with sweat and pain. He took a step towards the cave mouth, eager to explore his hard-won sanctuary.
CRACK!
The sound echoed sharp and loud from just inside the cave entrance above him. Fang Shen looked up instinctively. A jagged chunk of rock, significantly larger than his head, had detached from the low ceiling and was plummeting directly towards him. Time seemed to slow. His exhausted body, his frayed nerves, refused to react quickly enough. He froze, eyes wide, a choked gasp caught in his throat.
In that instant, faster than thought, a tall shape appeared beside him. Tie Shan was there, standing beside him, one hand outstretched, facing upwards as it hovered above Fang Shen's head. The heavy falling rock met his palm with a dull thud, stopping its descent in an instant. Not a tremor ran through his arm; not a flicker of exertion showed on his face. He just held the potentially lethal stone as if it weighed nothing more than a pebble.
Dust swirled around his impassive form, and Fang Shen could only stare as his heart hammered against his ribs, the near-death experience overriding his exhaustion with a jolt of pure adrenaline.
Tie Shan held the rock suspended for a charged moment, his dark gaze locking onto Fang Shen's terrified eyes. He didn't lower the stone immediately, letting the reality of the sudden danger sink in.
"This cave," Tie Shan said finally, his voice calm but imbued with a profound gravity, "is the reward for a mere three days of suffering. It offers shelter," he glanced pointedly at the rock still held easily in his hand, "but danger remains. The reward is… limited."
He flicked his wrist, sending the heavy stone flying out of the cave where it landed with a thud at least a hundred paces away. He looked back at Fang Shen, whose face was pale beneath the grime.
"The strength required to truly master this path," Tie Shan continued, his voice resonating in the quiet foothills, "the resilience needed to build a body that laughs at falling mountains, that shatters blades upon its skin and endures the harshest elements... that requires suffering measured not in days, but in years. Decades." His eyes seemed to pierce through Fang Shen, seeing the long, arduous road ahead. "A lifetime dedicated to the forge of pain. What you have done here," he gestured dismissively towards the cleared entrance and Fang Shen's trembling, exhausted form, "is merely pick up the hammer."
He met Fang Shen's gaze squarely. "The true forging begins now."