A week of steel and breath
An entire week had passed since the start of training. For Yuto Meng, each day was confused with the previous one, punctuated by the metallic slam of his training sword and the regular breath of his lungs.
In the closed room with gray walls, he stood alone, a voluntary prisoner of a ritual he imposed on himself. The cold neon lights threw their sharp reflections on the blade, multiplying the steel shards in the shadows. The room had no window or decoration, as if the outside world had ceased to exist. There was only him, the sword, and the icy voice of the system.
His movements had become clear. Where, on the first day, he was still groping, cutting the air without harmony, he now followed with a precision that almost forced respect. He alternated the guards with fluency: from the high jodan guard, he naturally descended to the middle chudan guard, then slid in sikkou, a low and mobile posture, which allowed him to dodge and reply in the same breath. Each transition was a dance: lightning vertical, sharp horizontal, half-blows intended to test the flow of qi in his hips.
He worked on synchronization: his breath as a conductor, his supports as silent drums, his hands as brushes of an invisible calligraphy. The system sometimes projected luminous symbols on the wall, approving the correctness of a gesture, or correcting the slightest imperfection with a reddish light.
- Still too much friction in the left elbow... he whispered, resuming his position.
Each parade made the steel vibrate to the rhythm of his breathing. Each pivot taught him the subtle mechanics of balance, the transfer of weight, the importance of micro-gesters that guided the sword even more than brute force. His combos were based on short angles, tight half-turns on the supports, in order to save energy and accelerate the reply.
Then came the reward.
DING!
Reward for the host:
20 system points earned for the moves made.
Progression of sword proficiencies.
The implacable voice of the system left no room for interpretation. Yuto then observed his status which was emerging before his eyes, projected into a floating window.
[Status window]
Name: Yuto Meng
Clan: Meng
Gender: Male
Faction: none
Cultivation: none
Internal martial arts: none
External martial arts:
Slice of the Original Breath (beginner 2/20)
Dance of the Invisible Lotus (beginner 2/20)
Armament: basic sword
Progress was slow but tangible. With each new point won, he felt the blade lighter, as if his body was learning to anticipate fatigue. His gestures became second nature.
Yet, behind this mechanism of numbers and rewards, Yuto knew that he was playing more than just a game: each level crossed brought his existence closer to survival, every mistake condemned him.
A breath of clan
After a long session, he wiped the sweat that stuck to his temples and decided to devote himself to the second task imposed by the system: to obtain a cultivation technique in the week.
He left the room, crossed the silent corridors of the Meng residence, then went to look for his faithful companion Ju Won. Together, they took the direction of the family pavilion, this place where the precious writings of the clan were piled up.
An hour later, they arrived at the threshold of the building. The pavilion stood in the backyard, a vast building of dark wood and polished stones, where each beam seemed engraved with the history of the ancestors. Lanterns, suspended at the corners, diffused a subdued light that contrasted with the electric coldness of the training room.
At the entrance, Yuto respectfully greeted the fifth uncle, guardian of these places. The man, austere and silent, simply nodded, recognizing in his nephew's eyes a new determination.
Without wasting time, Yuto went up to the second floor. There, among rows of shelves loaded with leather-bound volumes, he found three books that immediately caught his attention:
Nose Technique that Sniffs Qi
Stagnant Mud Method
Shuffled Fish Breathing
Three enigmatic titles, each bearing an incomplete method, almost shaky, but rich in particular knowledge. Yuto knew, by instinct or by calculation, that together, these fragments could give rise to something larger.
The fusion workshop
Back in the room, he consulted the system interface, looking in the virtual shop for a tool capable of merging several books into a single coherent whole. The price displayed was high, but he did not hesitate.
He pressed "buy".
A metallic sound resounded immediately.
DING!
Validated purchase.
In front of him appeared a book that did not exist anywhere else. He floated in the air, surrounded by a luminous aura. Its cover was deep black, but gold reliefs drew sinuous dragons, a roaring tiger and a phoenix with outspread wings. Each symbol vibrated as if it were breathing.
The book then landed on an ethereal table, which appeared from nothing. When it opened, three rectangular locations were revealed, each containing a work of 300 x 200 millimeters.
Yuto carefully placed the three books of the pavilion in the slots. Immediately, a bright light springs up, crossing the pages. The words seemed to detach from their paper, dance in the air, merge into each other like rivers converging towards the same ocean.
The Nose Technique released a subtle aura, a fine breeze filled with an almost imperceptible fragrance.
The Stagnant Mud Method gave off a telluric heaviness, as if the soil itself aspired to immobility.
The Shuffled Fish Breathing gave birth to an aquatic rhythm, bubbles and irregular flows that waved through space.
The three energies collided, swirled, then began to merge into a golden spiral. Yuto held his breath. The dragons of the blanket came to life, roaring silently, while the tiger rumbled and the phoenix ignited with an immaterial fire.
When the light dissipated, the three books returned to their initial state, as if nothing had changed. Yuto took them back, put them back in his bag. However, a new work remained on the table.
Its title shone with an ancient glow:
Cycle of 100 Dragons
It was not just a copy of the three original manuals. By leafing through it, Yuto discovered that the system had reorganized, summarized and amplified their content. Where the separate methods seemed clumsy, full of contradictions, the 100 Dragons Cycle offered a fluid, harmonious, powerful path.
The text described how to inspire the qi like a sleeping dragon, guide it through the meridians like a hundred dragons crawling in the skies, and expel it like a roaring army. Breathing became a complete cycle, a dance between immobility and movement, heaviness and lightness, earth and sky.
Yuto slowly closed the volume. His hands trembled slightly, but it was not out of fear: it was the excitement of holding between his fingers a real way of cultivation, forged by the fusion of disparate arts.
A new stage
The system then confirmed, in an icy but almost solemn voice:
New cultivation technique acquired: Cycle of 100 Dragons.
Estimated rank: intermediate with high potential.
Advantage: increased qi fluidity, better energy absorption.
Condition: daily practice, synchronized with lunar cycles.
Yuto squeezed the book against him. His breathing accelerated, then calmed down, as if he had already begun to unconsciously follow the instructions in the manual.
He knew it was only the first step. The road to the Establishment Foundation would be long, full of obstacles. But from now on, he had a tool, an inner weapon, a way that belonged to him.
And deep in his eyes, a new glow shone: that of a man who had tasted the power of dragons, and who no longer intended to retreat.