John met his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "It takes focus. Absolute focus. Most of you let your minds wander." He paused, letting that sink in. "The trick is to quiet everything. Every thought, every feeling. Make yourself empty."
The braided girl scoffed softly. "Empty? We've been trying that. It's like trying to hold smoke."
"Perhaps you're trying too hard," John suggested, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Think of it this way: what if the League isn't just about strength? What if there are other ways to... control your limits?" He let the word hang in the air, loaded with possibility.
"Control?" the scarred trainee repeated, intrigued. "What kind of control are we talking about?"
John picked at his food, as if deep in thought, then glanced around the table. "You all want to get stronger, don't you? Faster? More resilient? To stand out, to survive." He met their eyes, one by one. "There are ways. But they demand a different kind of training. A... deeper understanding of yourself." He paused again, letting their collective hunger for power build. "It's not for everyone. Some of you might not be able to handle it." He saw the challenge ignite in their eyes, just as he'd intended.
"What do you need?" the spear-trained boy asked, leaning forward, utterly hooked.
John's smile widened imperceptibly. "Patience. And a willingness to push beyond what Sensei is showing you. Perhaps... a different kind of focus. And maybe, in time, some extra... sustenance." He gestured vaguely at his own still-growing pile of food. "This kind of progress takes a lot out of you."
John's subtle suggestions had the desired effect. The trainees around him exchanged eager glances, their faces reflecting a mix of intrigue and ambition. The scarred trainee, ever pragmatic, pressed further.
"What kind of focus? Sensei teaches us to empty our minds. What else is there?"
John leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as if sharing a profound secret. "Emptying the mind is only the first step. Think of it as clearing the ground. But what do you build on that ground? Most of you are waiting for the 'hum' to just appear. You need to grasp it. To feel its specific... frequency." He paused, letting his words sink in. "It's like finding a specific note in a silent room. You can't just wish for it. You have to reach for it, with your entire being."
He then transitioned smoothly, his gaze sweeping over their faces. "And the cost... mastering your internal energy, truly pushing past human limits, it demands more. More than just training. Your body becomes a furnace. A very hungry furnace." He gestured again to his lingering pile of takeaway containers. "That's why Sensei doesn't talk about it yet. He expects you to figure it out." This was a move to subtly attribute his unique hunger to generalized chi mastery, rather than his specific power.
"So, you're saying... extra food helps you focus?" the braided girl asked, her brow furrowed in thought.
"It helps fuel the process," John clarified, maintaining his vague but confident tone. "When you push your mind and body to connect with something so fundamental, it takes a toll. A physical toll. Your senses become sharper, your reactions faster... but it burns through you. The League, they only provide enough for basic sustenance.
John watched as his words took root. The other trainees, desperate for any edge in their brutal environment, began to murmur amongst themselves, their initial skepticism giving way to avid interest.
"So, what do we do?" the scarred trainee, whose name John now recalled as Kael, finally asked, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "How do we 'reach' for this frequency? And how much more food are we talking about?"
John leaned back slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "It's not about how much, but how consistently. And the 'how' for reaching the frequency... that's where the real work comes in"
"It so happens, i have a way to make this possible. For you to continuously make contact with Chi" John said before going silent.
A younger girl named Anya, usually quiet and observant, surprised them all by speaking up. "I'll do it. I'll follow your advice, John. Tell me what I need to do." Her voice was firm, resolute.
John met her gaze, this was it. His first subject. "Alright, Anya," he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "It's not something we can do here, not with everyone watching. Tonight, in the training building. After lights out." He then shared a precise time and location within the large, multi-purpose trainee building, a place where they often had more freedom to move unsupervised after dark. "Come prepared to push yourself." He gave her a pointed look that silently conveyed the need for secrecy about their personal session.
Later that night, the trainee building was quiet, save for the distant hum of ventilation and the occasional creak of settling metal. Anya arrived promptly at the designated spot a rarely used, secluded practice room deep within the maze-like structure. She found John already there, waiting.
"So, what's the trick?" Anya asked, her voice hushed, her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
"We need absolute stillness, Anya," John replied, his voice calm. "Beyond what you achieved in the hall. Close your eyes. Focus on your breath. Let every thought, every emotion, every sensation fall away." He watched her closely as she sat cross-legged, mimicking his meditative posture. Her breathing slowly deepened.
John knelt behind her, placing a hand on her spine. "Now, I'm going to help you. To show you what true stillness feels like." This was it. He focused, not on his own "switch," but on Anya's internal landscape. He reached out, with an intense, focused intent, channeling the suppressive aspect of his adrenal manipulation towards her.
He pushed, willing her body to reduce its adrenaline, to quiet the neural noise. He felt a subtle resistance, a human body's natural defense against external influence. He pushed harder, envisioning her internal systems calming, her emotions dampening. For a moment, nothing. Then, he felt a minute shift, a faint give in her internal state. Anya's breathing became even shallower, almost imperceptible. The restless energy that usually radiated from her seemed to recede, replaced by a profound, unnerving tranquility. Her face, usually so expressive, smoothed into an almost blank slate.
John held the connection for a few agonizing seconds, observing the change. It was working. He was influencing her. A surge of grim triumph went through him. Then, as he felt his own mind begin to fog, a profound mental weariness creeping in at the cost of exerting his will on another's physiology he immediately severed the connection.
Anya's eyes snapped open. For a moment, they held an unsettling, glassy emptiness. Then, a shudder ran through her, and her expression twisted, with confusion and with a sudden, desperate craving.
"I... I feel so empty," she whispered, her voice rough, her eyes darting around the room, frantically searching. "So... hungry."
John's eyes met hers, a cold, calculating satisfaction in their depths. It worked, more so he took note that the effect on her was physical hunger, just as it was on him when he used it. But now the cost to him for projecting on to her was purely mental.
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