Tie Shan's words, "The true forging begins now," echoed in the sudden, sharp silence of the cave mouth, heavier than the rock he'd just contemptuously tossed aside. Fang Shen was still vibrating from the near-miss, his sweat turning cold against his skin, the adrenaline dump leaving him shaky and nauseous. The pride he'd felt moments ago from clearing the cave entrance evaporated like morning mist. That simple act, three days of grinding labor that had pushed him to his absolute limit, was dismissed as merely "picking up the hammer."
He looked at Tie Shan, at the man's utterly impassive face, and a new kind of fear began to bloom – not the fear of weakness, but the fear of what this "true forging" would entail.
"Come," Tie Shan said, turning and stepping into the darkness of the cave. His voice brooked no argument.
Fang Shen hesitated for only a second, then scrambled to follow, not wanting to be left alone outside with the memory of that falling rock. The cave was surprisingly deep, angling gently downwards. The air inside was cool and damp, carrying the scent of ancient stone and something else, something metallic and faintly sharp. After a few dozen paces, the last of the evening light from the entrance vanished, plunging them into utter blackness.
Fang Shen instinctively slowed, his hands reaching out to brace himself against unseen walls. "Master? I can't see."
A faint scraping sound, then a flare of light. Tie Shan had produced a fist-sized, dull grey stone which, after a moment of him apparently doing something to it, began to glow with a steady, cool white light, illuminating a moderately sized chamber. The walls were rough-hewn rock, the ceiling low. It was utterly bare.
"This will be your primary training space for now," Tie Shan announced, placing the glowing stone on a natural rock shelf. "Sit." He indicated a relatively flat patch of ground in the center.
Fang Shen obeyed, his legs still trembling slightly. He sat cross-legged, mimicking Tie Shan's earlier meditative posture, though his back protested with a fresh wave of aches.
Tie Shan regarded him, his expression unreadable in the stark light of the glowstone. "The first stage of Body Cultivation is Bone Marrow Tempering. Your bones are the frame upon which your strength will be built. The marrow within is the forge where new blood is made, where vitality itself begins. We will start by opening the initial conduits for external Qi to enter your body—focal points located in the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet."
He knelt before Fang Shen. "Give me your right hand."
Warily, Fang Shen extended it. Tie Shan's calloused, powerful fingers closed around his wrist, the grip firm but not crushing. With his other hand, Tie Shan's thumb pressed firmly into the center of Fang Shen's palm.
"The external Qi of the world is wild, untamed," Tie Shan explained, his voice a low rumble. "It is not the gentle, internally generated Qi the Sects coddle. When it enters your unprepared body, it will burn. When it reaches your marrow, the pain will be… significant. Your task is to endure it. To draw it in, guide it, and allow it to begin the process of tempering. Do not fight it. Do not expel it. Absorb it. This is the foundation."
Fang Shen swallowed, his mouth dry. "How… how do I draw it in?"
"I will open the point," Tie Shan said. "Then, you will it. Focus your mind, your Spirit Root, on this point in your palm. Imagine a tiny hole opening, a vacuum pulling the air, the world, into you. The Qi will follow. It is everywhere." He paused. "Prepare yourself."
Before Fang Shen could truly brace, Tie Shan's thumb suddenly dug in with excruciating force. It wasn't just pressure; it felt like a sharp spike being driven into the meat of his palm. A strangled yelp escaped Fang Shen's lips, his body jerking.
"Still," Tie Shan commanded, his voice sharp. The pressure intensified. Fang Shen could feel something… shifting, tearing on a minute level deep within his hand. It was a sharp, localized agony. Then, abruptly, Tie Shan twisted his thumb, a brutal, grinding motion.
"AGH!" This time, a full yelp tore from Fang Shen. His eyes watered. It felt like his palm was being ripped open from the inside.
Then, just as suddenly, the intense pressure vanished. Tie Shan released his hand. "The point is open. Now, draw."
Fang Shen cradled his throbbing hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The spot on his palm burned and throbbed with a life of its own. Draw? How could he focus on anything through this pain?
"Focus, boy!" Tie Shan's voice was like a whip crack. "The opening is temporary. Use it, or the effort is wasted, and we do it again."
The thought of enduring that again was enough. Gritting his teeth, Fang Shen forced his mind to obey. He stared at his palm, at the point of agonizing sensitivity. He tried to imagine it opening, pulling. He pictured the air, the motes of dust in the glowstone's light, being sucked into that tiny, screaming point.
For a moment, nothing. Then…
A new sensation. It started as a faint tingle, like icy fire ants beginning to crawl under his skin, originating from the point Tie Shan had worked on. It was different from the tearing pain; this was an invasive, alien energy. He focused harder, trying to pull, to welcome this new feeling despite the immediate alarm bells ringing in his mind.
The tingle intensified, spreading up his arm like a creeping burn. It wasn't on his skin; it felt deeper, coiling around his bones. He could feel it moving, a thread of caustic cold-heat.
"Good," Tie Shan murmured, his eyes fixed on Fang Shen's arm. "You have a connection. Now, pull more. Bring it to the marrow."
Fang Shen redoubled his mental effort, his face contorting. The burning thread thickened, grew hotter, more painful. It reached his wrist, then his forearm, inching its way up towards his shoulder, a river of cold fire. Each millimeter it traveled was an agony. He began to sweat profusely, his tunic clinging to his back.
Then it reached his humerus, the bone of his upper arm. And then the true "significant" pain Tie Shan had warned of began.
When that external Qi, raw and undiluted, touched his bone marrow, it was not like a burn. It was like his very bones were being filled with molten iron and frozen nitrogen simultaneously. A deep, resonant, grinding agony that vibrated through his entire being. It was a pain he had no reference for, no defense against. It bypassed muscle, skipped skin, and went straight to the core of his physical structure.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
The scream was involuntary, ripped from his lungs, echoing wildly around the small stone chamber. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock and agony. His body arched, his free hand clawing at the ground. He instinctively tried to stop, to push the invading energy out, to sever the connection.
"RESUME!" Tie Shan's voice boomed, cutting through the haze of pain. It wasn't a request. It was an absolute order, backed by the full weight of his terrifying presence. "Do NOT stop! Draw it in! Endure! This is Bone Marrow Tempering! This is the *price*!"
Tears streamed down Fang Shen's face, mixing with sweat and grime. Every instinct shrieked at him to stop, to flee, to make the pain cease. But Tie Shan's implacable gaze, the memory of the unresponsive Nexus Stone, the terror of powerlessness – these things warred with the overwhelming agony.
He squeezed his eyes shut again, his body trembling violently. He tried to regain control of his focus, to pull that terrible, burning energy into himself despite the torment. He pictured the focal point in his palm, pictured the Qi flowing in. It felt like willingly drinking acid.
The pain was relentless, a constant, high-pitched scream within his bones. He could feel the foreign Qi saturating the marrow of his upper arm, then moving towards his shoulder. He gasped, choked, sobbed, but somehow, through sheer terror of failure and the force of Tie Shan's will, he kept pulling.
Minutes stretched into eternities. The pain didn't lessen; if anything, it seemed to intensify as more of his marrow was invaded. He lost track of time, lost track of anything but the searing agony in his arm and Tie Shan's periodic, sharp commands to "Continue!" or "Focus!"
Finally, when Fang Shen felt like he was on the verge of blacking out, when his spirit felt frayed to the breaking point, Tie Shan spoke again, his voice slightly less harsh. "Enough. Release the focus. Let the Qi settle."
Release? Fang Shen barely understood. He just… stopped. He stopped the mental pulling. The inflow of external Qi lessened, then trickled to a halt. The agonizing burning in his marrow didn't vanish, but the active, invasive quality of it subsided slightly, leaving behind a deep, throbbing, incandescent ache that felt like his bones were glowing hot from within.
He collapsed sideways, panting, shuddering, his right arm feeling both incredibly heavy and terrifyingly fragile. He was drenched in sweat, his throat raw from screaming. He lay there, curled on the cold stone floor, for what felt like a long time.
Slowly, the worst of the shudders subsided. He cracked an eye open. Tie Shan was watching him, his expression still unreadable.
"That," Tie Shan stated, "was the first wisp. The first taste. We will now do the other three points. Left hand. Then each foot."
Fang Shen's blood ran cold. Other three? He couldn't. He just *couldn't*.
"I… I can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Master… please… the pain…"
Tie Shan's gaze hardened. "Did you desire strength above all else, Fang Shen? Or were those just words?"
The question, the same one that had hooked him at his lowest point, landed like a physical blow.
"The body adapts," Tie Shan continued, his voice devoid of sympathy. "The spirit strengthens through trial. Each session will be agony. But each session will make you stronger. Each endurance will build your foundation. This is the only way for you. Do you understand?"
Fang Shen looked at his throbbing arm, at the memory of that soul-searing pain. He looked at Tie Shan's unyielding face. He thought of being weak, of being collateral.
With a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he pushed himself up into a sitting position again. His body screamed in protest. His spirit quailed.
"I… understand," he croaked. He extended his left hand. "Do it."
The process was repeated. The brutal opening of the focal point. The agonizing inflow of external Qi. The marrow-deep burning that made him scream until his voice gave out. Then the right foot. Then the left. Each time, he thought he would break. Each time, he thought the pain was unendurable. Each time, under Tie Shan's relentless gaze and sharp commands, he somehow found a microscopic shard of will to continue.
By the time the fourth point was done, Fang Shen was a wreck. He lay sprawled on the cave floor, barely conscious, his limbs twitching, his mind a haze of pain and exhaustion. He was beyond tears, beyond screams. There was only a vast, echoing ache throughout his entire frame, centered in his hands and feet and radiating up his limbs into the very core of his bones.
Tie Shan observed him for a long moment. Then, he reached down and effortlessly lifted Fang Shen, tossing him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. Fang Shen was too broken to even protest.
Tie Shan carried him out of the training chamber, deeper into the cave system. The glowstone he'd left behind provided the only light. After a short walk, they entered another, smaller chamber. This one had a small, clear pool of water in one corner, and a pile of dry leaves and grasses in another, forming a crude bed.
Tie Shan unceremoniously dumped Fang Shen onto the makeshift bed. "Rest," he said. "Tomorrow, we begin refining the flow, and you will learn to draw Qi into all four points simultaneously. Then, the mundane conditioning of your muscles and sinews begins alongside it."
Fang Shen just groaned, his eyes closed. The thought of "tomorrow" was a horror.
Tie Shan looked down at the broken boy. "The first ignition is always the worst," he stated, a hint of something almost… non-hostile in his tone. "You endured. That is a start." He turned and left the chamber, taking the light with him, leaving Fang Shen in the cool, damp darkness, alone with the symphony of agony playing in his bones.
Fang Shen lay there, every fiber of his being screaming. He had wanted strength. He had begged for it. He was now tasting the first, bitter dregs of its price. And it was so much worse than he could have ever imagined.