The Grand Master's smile was a rare thing, more precious than jade. It marked a turning point. Li Jin's training ceased to be a penance and became a teaching.
"You have learned not to fight against your opponent," the old man said, lowering his wooden sword. "Now, you must learn to stop fighting against the world."
He led Li Jin away from the training grounds, down a narrow path to a ledge overlooking the valley. The clouds drifted below them, a sea of silent white. The wind was strong, ceaseless.
"The ordinary disciple learns to draw Lìng Qì from his own body," the Grand Master explained. "The master learns to draw it from his immediate surroundings—the earth beneath his feet, the air he breathes. But the ultimate path is not to draw at all. It is to become a conduit."
He sat cross-legged on the edge of the precipice, seemingly unconcerned by the sheer drop. "The Breath of the World makes no distinctions. It animates the rock, the eagle, the cloud... and you. The Tiger within you is a concentration of this breath, a version focused on predation and survival. But it is only one note in an infinite symphony."
He closed his eyes. "Sit. Close your eyes. Do not try to meditate. Do not try to empty your mind. Listen."
Li Jin sat beside him. The wind whipped at his face, chilling him. He closed his eyes. At first, all he heard was the whistle of the wind in his ears, a deafening roar that made concentration impossible.
A waste of time, the Tiger whispered, its voice like an echo in the gale. He distracts you. Meanwhile, your enemies grow stronger. Xiao Lie meditates, but his hatred only deepens.
Li Jin let the thought pass. He focused on the master's instruction. Listen. He tried to listen beyond the wind. He caught the distant crack of a branch, the cry of a hawk circling above. He heard the beat of his own heart.
"Those are sounds," the Grand Master said, without opening his eyes. "You are listening with your ears. Listen with your skin. Listen with your bones."
Li Jin didn't understand, but he tried. He focused on the sensation of the wind. It wasn't just a cold blast. It was a shifting pressure, a series of complex currents that wrapped around his body. He felt the sun on his face, a pale warmth through the clouds. He felt the hardness of the rock beneath him, a low vibration that seemed to rise from the mountain's core.
Slowly, very slowly, his perception began to shift. The separate sensations—wind, warmth, stone—began to merge. He felt the flow. An immense current of energy that was not Lìng Qì, but the source of Lìng Qì itself. The Breath of the World. He didn't feel it in him. He felt that he was in it. A fish in an invisible ocean.
The Tiger fell silent. In the face of this immensity, its rage seemed small, petty.
They sat like that for hours, until the sun began to set. When Li Jin opened his eyes, he felt strangely calm, yet vibrant with a new kind of energy.
"That is the first step," the Grand Master said, rising. "To feel the ocean. The next is to learn to swim in it."
Their sword training changed. The Grand Master took him to a different place each day. To a mountain torrent, waist-deep in the freezing water, where every movement was a struggle against the current. To the branch of an ancient pine tree, where every step threatened to send him plunging into the void. To the middle of a bamboo grove so dense that light barely penetrated.
"Don't fight the current, use it!" he would shout over the roar of the water. "Don't fear the void, make it your ally!" he would say atop the tree. "Don't force a path, flow between the obstacles," he would murmur in the bamboo forest.
Li Jin learned to adapt. He learned that true strength was not in his muscles, but in his harmony with his surroundings. His fighting style became less predictable, more fluid. He began to use the natural elements as extensions of his own body. A slippery rock, a low-hanging branch, a sudden gust of wind—all became potential weapons or avenues of escape.
One day, they were training near a waterfall. The Grand Master tossed a single leaf into the powerful current. The leaf was swept away, battered and tossed, but it did not sink. It followed the flow, swirled around rocks, and eventually reached a calm pool downstream.
"Be the leaf," the Grand Master said. "Not the rock that resists the current."
That night, as Li Jin meditated, something unexpected happened. He felt the Tiger's presence. But this time, it didn't speak. It didn't taunt him. It watched. There was a curiosity in its silence.
Li Jin, following an instinct, did not ignore it. He did not push it away. He watched it back. He opened a small part of his awareness to the beast. For the first time, he felt not only its rage, but its loneliness. A loneliness centuries old, trapped within the mountain, passed from host to host, knowing only instinct and hunger.
He didn't feel pity. That would be a mistake. He felt a kind of understanding. The Tiger was not evil. It was a force of nature, like wind or fire. Powerful, dangerous, but not inherently malicious. His struggle was not to destroy it, but to coexist with it without being consumed.
One morning, the Grand Master woke him before dawn. "No training today. We have visitors."
Two men waited in the main courtyard. One was an official from the capital, dressed in embroidered silks, his face a mask of practiced arrogance. The other was a soldier, General Xiao, Xiao Lie's father. He was a massive man, his weathered face a roadmap of old battles. An aura of contained violence radiated from him.
General Xiao wasted no time on pleasantries. He gave the Grand Master the barest of bows. "I have come for my son. His letters are... troubling. He speaks of injustice, of a demon you are harboring in this school." His gaze fell on Li Jin, hard as steel. "Are you the demon?"
Li Jin said nothing. The Grand Master stepped forward. "Your son broke our rules, General. His punishment is just, and necessary for his training."
"My training was on the northern battlefields," the general retorted. "Not reciting texts in a cell. My son is a warrior, not a monk. He claims this boy defeated him with some manner of sorcery. I've come to see for myself."
He drew a massive blade from his back, a zhǎnmǎdāo, a sword designed to cut down horses. "I challenge him. If his power is so great, he'll have no trouble facing me. If he refuses, he is a coward who doesn't deserve his place here."
It was a trap. If Li Jin accepted, he would have to fight a hardened veteran. If he refused, he would lose face and prove the general's accusations right.
The Grand Master started to protest, but Li Jin stopped him with a look. He understood. This was another test.
"I accept your challenge, General," Li Jin said, his voice calm.
General Xiao smiled, a feral grin. "Good."
They faced each other in the training court. The general wielded his massive blade in two hands, his stance like a mountain. Li Jin held a simple wooden practice sword. The contrast was almost comical.
Let me, the Tiger hissed, awakened by the scent of danger. This man is a true predator. You stand no chance alone. Together, we can tear him apart.
Be silent, Li Jin answered, not with force, but with an absolute calm. I am not alone.
He closed his eyes for a second, feeling the Breath of the World around him. The light wind, the solid earth, the warmth of the morning sun.
The general attacked. It was not a wild charge, but a precise, powerful strike aimed to cut Li Jin in two. The air shrieked under the force of the blade.
Li Jin did not retreat. He did not block. He took one flowing step to the side, a movement learned in the torrent. He wasn't watching the sword; he was watching the general's shoulders, the pivot point of the attack. Instead of meeting the force, he let it pass. The massive blade slammed into the ground where he had been standing a moment before, sending stone chips flying.
The general grunted, surprised by his agility. He followed up with a storm of steel, each blow capable of splitting armor.
Li Jin simply danced. He moved like the leaf in the current. He made no attempt to counter-attack. He simply was not where the blade fell. He was too fluid, too elusive. It was like watching a giant try to catch smoke with a hammer.
The general's frustration grew. His breathing became heavier. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. He was used to opponents who blocked, who parried, who met his strength with their own. This boy wasn't even fighting. He was just... not being hit.
Finally, the general's patience snapped. He launched one last, desperate attack, a sweeping horizontal cut designed to clear everything in its path.
It was the opening Li Jin had been waiting for. He hadn't created it. He had allowed it to happen. Instead of evading the blade, he did the opposite. He lunged inside the sword's arc, too close for the general to effectively wield it.
With a swift motion, he struck the general's wrist with his wooden sword. The sharp impact made the man's grip loosen. The zhǎnmǎdāo clattered to the ground. In the same fluid motion, the tip of Li Jin's wooden sword came to rest gently against the general's throat.
The fight was over. It had taken less than two minutes.
Silence fell over the courtyard. General Xiao stared, stunned, at the wooden tip against his skin. He hadn't been overpowered. He had been outmaneuvered. He had been defeated by a void.
Li Jin withdrew his sword and bowed. "You fight with great honor, General."
The man didn't reply. He picked up his sword, his face grim. He looked at Li Jin, then at the Grand Master. For the first time, there was respect in his eyes.
"My son will stay," he said. He sheathed his sword, turned on his heel, and left without another word.
Li Jin stood motionless, his heart hammering. He hadn't used the Tiger's strength. Not once. He had won. With his own strength.
He turned to the Grand Master. The old man was not smiling. He was watching him with a new intensity.
"You have learned to swim," he said. "But the ocean is deep, and there are storms gathering on the horizon. Your true trial has not yet begun."