Lin Xun sat up in bed, blinking slowly as early morning light filtered through the blinds. For a few seconds, he wasn't entirely sure what had woken him. His body felt... different. Lighter. Not in a dramatic way, but in the small, careful details that cultivators were taught to notice.
He focused inward, breathing gently as he traced the flow of Qi from his core. It moved with a quiet steadiness, more substantial than it had the day before. The hesitation that used to linger at the top of each cycle was gone, replaced with a firm, stable pull. He held the flow, let it complete a full circuit, then nodded to himself.
The breakthrough had happened. He was in the fifth stage of Qi Condensation now.
There had been no dramatic push, no long meditation session or final pill to tip the balance. He'd just gone to sleep. Yet something had quietly refined the last cycle of his breathwork, corrected what was needed, and completed the loop.
And he remembered the feeling, too. Not a vivid dream, but a sense that his breath had continued moving long after his body had stilled. Each motion running in the background, precise and methodical, like his spirit had kept training while his mind rested.
He didn't smile, but as he pulled on his uniform jacket and tied the knot at his collar, he moved with the ease of someone who had just cleared a nagging, familiar obstacle. One that had been in his way for far too long.
....
By the time he arrived at the academy grounds, students were already filing into their respective halls. Lin Xun headed toward the cultivation theory block, nodding briefly to a few classmates as he passed through the courtyard.
He slipped into his usual seat near the window, setting his bag down just as the bell rang. His desk partner, Han Yiren, glanced over from his spot beside him.
"You're early," Han said, closing his spirit manual with a soft snap. "Didn't expect that from you after looking like a half-drained husk all week."
Lin Xun gave a small shrug. "Felt rested this morning."
Han squinted at him, then gave a short, skeptical hum. "You look different. Something settle overnight?"
"Maybe."
"You break through?"
There was no point in denying it. Lin Xun nodded once. "Fifth layer."
Han leaned back a little, folding his arms. "Huh. Not bad. Didn't think you were close." He didn't sound resentful, more surprised than anything. "You didn't take any help, did you?"
"No pills. No enhancements."
"Then good timing." Han's tone shifted slightly, a touch more serious. "You planning to move up a tier for the technique exams?"
"Not yet."
"Holding back?" He smirked faintly. "Or playing it safe?"
"Neither. Just… watching things settle."
Han didn't press. That was part of why Lin Xun didn't mind sitting next to him—he commented often, but rarely dug.
The morning drills began with the usual Qi circulation sets. Lin Xun kept his movements measured and clean. His breakthrough wasn't something he wanted to parade, but there was no denying the change. His form had sharpened. The transitions were tight. His breathing synced with his spiritual flow effortlessly, and the small corrections he'd always had to make mid-cycle were simply gone.
No one said anything directly, but Instructor Rui paused slightly as she passed behind him, eyes narrowing before she continued down the line. A few students nearby gave him passing glances. Han, seated two rows ahead for the drill formation, looked back once, raised a brow, and turned away with a quiet nod.
They rotated into formwork for the Anchored Flow Pattern next—one of the academy's core stability methods. It was foundational, used to build real-time circulation during movement and teach students how to hold internal energy steady through shifting posture and pressure. Most struggled with the final sequence, where flow had to be compressed, anchored, and redirected through the torso while stepping forward.
Lin Xun had always been passable at it, steady in stillness, less so in motion. Today, his feet moved in tandem with his Qi as if the alignment had already been rehearsed. The flow didn't break. The anchor held.
He finished the pattern without issue and returned to his place. Han rejoined him a few minutes later, tossing his practice band onto the desk.
"You've definitely been hiding something," he said quietly, just loud enough for Lin Xun to hear.
Lin Xun didn't respond immediately. "I didn't plan it."
"That makes it worse," Han muttered, though his tone stayed light. "Still, good work. Fifth stage's not bad for this early in the term."
That night, after finishing his assignments and checking the academy's update board, Lin Xun returned to his room and repeated the Anchored Flow Pattern again. Slowly and methodically, reinforcing the adjustments he'd made in class. He didn't push the form. He just ran it until it felt steady.
After thirty or so clean cycles, he let it go and lay down.
As he drifted into sleep, the pattern returned. Not vividly, not with conscious control, but in that quiet, detached space just before dreaming. The same technique, repeating itself over and over, each loop marginally smoother than the last. His spirit worked while his mind rested.