Two years had passed since Li Yuan first set foot on the path of martial arts. The days weren't always easy, but time and perseverance had shaped both his body and his spirit.
Now, at the age of fourteen, Li Yuan's body was beginning to outgrow childhood. His shoulders had broadened, his frame had hardened, and his eyes had grown sharper—not just in sight, but in understanding.
In the courtyard of his modest home, under the clear morning sky, Li Yuan stood tall. Sweat still dripped from his brow, but his body did not tremble. He had just completed a full set of foundational forms once taught to him by his father.
A fist that once hesitated now struck the air with certainty.
Feet that once wavered now met the ground with steady purpose.
Li Haoming, his father, watched from an old wooden bench in the corner of the courtyard. The middle-aged man gave a slow nod.
"Your movements have come alive, Yuan," he said, stroking his thin beard.
Li Yuan only smiled. He was not one for many words—unlike the cheerful Mu Yi or the easily excited Fan Tu. He kept most thoughts to himself, letting his body speak through movement.
But one thing was clear—his movements now held meaning.
Every swing of his hand carried breath in rhythm. Every step grounded him to the earth, as if he wasn't just moving across its surface, but merging with it.
"Two years ago, I couldn't take a single blow from Father..."
"Now... even if I can't win yet, I can stand much longer."
Li Yuan knew he wasn't great. Not yet. Not strong. The world was still vast, and he was but a single small dot within it. But he also knew one thing: he moved forward every day. And with every step, he became sharper, stronger, and deeper in understanding.
By late afternoon, he walked to the river as usual with Mu Yi and Fan Tu. Laughing and playing, they didn't realize that beneath the joy, each of them had changed.
They were no longer just children fooling around—
They were young men, beginning to walk their own paths.
And at the end of those paths, the vast world still waited—ready to be explored.
Behind Mu Yi's cheerful laughter lay a story few truly knew.
Mu Yi lived with his father in a modest wooden house on the edge of the village. His father, Mu Zhen, was a traveling merchant—well-known for his kindness and helpful nature, though he often returned home late due to his work taking him from one village to another.
His mother had passed away when Mu Yi was just three years old. The story that went around simply said she fell ill and never recovered. Since then, Mu Zhen had raised Mu Yi on his own. Perhaps that's why Mu Yi grew into such a lively, talkative, and social child—as if laughter and words were the walls he built to keep his heart warm.
"My dad says life is like doing business," Mu Yi once told Li Yuan and Fan Tu.
"Sometimes you gain, sometimes you lose... but you have to keep going."
Li Yuan simply nodded. He wasn't one for long replies, but he understood the meaning.
Mu Yi was different.
If Li Yuan preferred silence and Fan Tu laughed loudly, then Mu Yi was the one who filled the space between them. He was like a small fire on a cold night—not one that burns, but one that gives warmth.
Even though he lived with just his father, Mu Yi's house always felt lively—thanks to the sound of his own voice. He would talk about his father's goods, funny customers, or the strange things he saw at the market.
But beneath it all, Li Yuan knew... there was an emptiness Mu Yi tried to hide.
"Do you ever miss your mother?" Li Yuan asked one night as they sat by the riverbank.
Mu Yi smiled, but didn't answer right away.
"Sometimes I dream of a woman singing to me... her voice is so soft. Maybe that's her."
After that, they sat in silence. But it wasn't an awkward silence—it was one of quiet understanding.
Mu Yi might not have been the strongest, nor the most serious in training, but his spirit and joy often became the reason the three of them kept moving forward.
And in a world that had yet to know Qi or great powers...
A strong heart was the purest strength they had.