Im lectured Leon on caution, then left with Dahlia and Flower. The backlash wasn't severe—just mana roiling and mental fatigue. Leon lay there, reflecting. He'd been greedy, influenced by novels, thinking his past-life skill was a "divine art." But he already had a photographic memory and strong mental strength—more than enough.
He'd been insecure, craving an edge. Deep down, he was the type who'd hide in the woods to train a secret skill, only emerging when invincible.
He promised himself to slow down.
As he drifted off, he unconsciously slipped into his Tai Chi breathing pattern: slow, steady inhales through his nose, exhales through his mouth. He'd learned it from his high school PE teacher for standing meditation, adapting it over years to fit his body. It had never done anything extraordinary—until now.
Mana from his mental sea seeped into his body, like a gentle stream exploring every vein. If someone could see mana, they'd watch it flow in with his inhales, out with his exhales—most leaving, but a tiny bit lingering, circulating slowly. His roiling mana calmed, his mental strength recovered, and he slept deeply.
The next morning, Leon woke ravenous. He took a breath, and the mana in his body vanished—like how you can't hear your own snoring. He felt perfect, no pain, no weakness. "My mental strength really is strong—I heal fast." He hadn't eaten in nearly a day and a half.
He stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a loaf of bread and a jar of ant mushroom paste—an earthy, savory spread he'd made from fried mushrooms and camellia oil. He wished he had chili sauce or soybean paste—he'd make some later. He boiled a pot of vegetable and meat egg soup, fried bacon and eggs, and toasted bread. It was a feast.
Im walked in, surprised. "Leon, you're hurt—you shouldn't cook!" Leon was mid-bite of a bacon-egg sandwich, soup steaming beside him. "I was starving," he said.
Im grabbed a sandwich. He'd tried cooking the day before—burned eggs, undercooked bacon. They'd survived on roasted meat, and he was tired of it.
Leon ate greedily, savoring the flavors. The backlash was gone, his body felt lighter, and his mana hummed softly. He didn't know Tai Chi had healed him—but he knew something had changed. He'd keep practicing, but cautiously, no more rushing.
As Im ate, he studied Leon. "You look completely recovered. Young bodies heal fast, but this is remarkable."
Leon smiled, taking another bite. He didn't mention the Tai Chi or the breathing. Some secrets were better kept—for now.