Gu Hao did not begin with the strong.
He began with the injured.
Three cultivators stood before him in the side hall, expressions mixed with curiosity and restraint. All three were stuck at early Qi Condensation. All three had old injuries that never fully healed.
Not crippling.
Just… limiting.
"I won't ask you to cultivate differently," Gu Hao said calmly. "Not yet."
Gu Jian stood to the side, arms folded, watching closely.
"What I want," Gu Hao continued, "is to understand how your bodies respond when you don't force qi."
That alone made them uneasy.
One of the cultivators hesitated. "Patriarch… if we don't circulate qi, how will this help?"
Gu Hao met his gaze. "When a road is damaged," he said, "pushing more carts through it doesn't fix the road."
Silence followed.
They nodded.
The first change was simple.
Stretching.
Not random movement, but slow, deliberate extension of limbs along the natural lines of the body. Gu Hao demonstrated himself, movements controlled, breath steady.
"Pain means stop," he instructed. "Tension means slow down."
This was not training.
It felt like restraint.
Next came breathing.
Not cultivation breathing.
Natural rhythm. Deep, unforced, aligned with movement. Gu Hao counted quietly at first, then let them find their own pace.
"Qi follows breath," he said. "But breath does not need qi to lead."
Gu Jian frowned slightly.
This ran against everything they had been taught.
The most controversial part came last.
Gu Hao applied pressure.
Not violently.
Not forcefully.
He used his fingers to press along certain points, watching carefully for reaction. When qi surged unevenly, he adjusted. When resistance appeared, he stopped.
One cultivator hissed softly. "It feels… blocked."
Gu Hao nodded. "That's because it is."
No talisman.
No pill.
Just attention.
They stopped after less than an hour.
No one was exhausted.
That, Gu Hao noted, was unusual.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
The answers came hesitantly.
"Loose."
"Warm."
"My breathing is… easier."
"My shoulder doesn't ache."
No one said stronger.
Gu Hao didn't expect them to.
That night, Gu Hao observed quietly.
He watched how the cultivators circulated qi afterward.
The flow was not greater.
But it was smoother.
Less resistance.
Fewer stalls.
Gu Hao's heart beat faster.
This was not coincidence.
The next day, he repeated the process.
And the next.
Never longer than an hour.
Never forcing qi.
On the fourth day, one of the cultivators paused mid-circulation and frowned.
"Patriarch," he said slowly, "it feels like… less effort."
Gu Hao nodded once.
The elders noticed on the sixth day.
"Why aren't they training harder?" Gu Yuan asked.
"They are," Gu Hao replied. "Just not loudly."
Gu Yuan frowned. "This isn't cultivation."
Gu Hao met his gaze evenly.
"Neither is injury," he said. "But it limits cultivation all the same."
Gu Yuan said nothing after that.
On the seventh day, Gu Hao finally tested something new.
He asked one cultivator to circulate qi after the session instead of before.
The result was immediate.
Not explosive.
But clean.
Qi moved without hesitation through channels that had always resisted.
The cultivator opened his eyes slowly.
"I didn't push," he said quietly. "It just… went."
Gu Hao exhaled.
That was the proof.
That night, Gu Hao sat alone.
He did not look ahead for confirmation.
He didn't need to.
He had seen it with his own eyes.
On Earth, physical therapy restored mobility.
Here, it restored pathways.
He wrote carefully in his notes:
Talent is not only how much you can hold.
It is how freely you can move what you have.
Outside, the training yard was silent.
But beneath skin and bone, within channels long abused by habit, something had begun to open.
Not fast.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
And for the Gu Clan, enough was how everything began.
The first sign was not strength.
It was recovery.
Gu Hao noticed it on the eighth day, when one of the three cultivators returned to the training yard earlier than usual. His breathing was steady. His steps unhurried.
"You're not resting?" Gu Hao asked.
The cultivator hesitated. "I don't feel like I need to."
That was new.
Before, rest had been a necessity forced by fatigue. Now it felt… optional.
Gu Hao nodded once and made a note.
He expanded the sessions carefully.
Not to everyone.
Not to the most talented.
To those who were stuck.
Five cultivators became eight. Eight became twelve.
Rules were set clearly.
No forced circulation.
No pain tolerated.
No sessions longer than one hour.
One rest day after every three.
"This isn't faster cultivation," Gu Hao told them. "It's safer cultivation."
Some were disappointed.
They stayed anyway.
Gu Jian watched closely as one of the newer participants sparred.
The cultivator's strikes hadn't become heavier.
They had become cleaner.
Less wasted motion.
Fewer pauses between movements.
"His qi isn't stronger," Gu Jian said quietly.
Gu Hao nodded. "But it's arriving on time."
Gu Jian frowned, then looked again.
He couldn't unsee it.
Skepticism arrived, as it always did.
A late Qi Condensation cultivator scoffed openly. "Stretching and breathing? That's for mortals."
Gu Hao didn't argue.
He invited the man to observe.
Three sessions later, the cultivator stopped laughing.
"He shouldn't be able to maintain that pace," he muttered, watching one of the injured men complete a full circulation cycle without strain.
"Why not?" Gu Hao asked.
"Because he never could before," the man replied.
Gu Hao nodded. "Exactly."
The first test came quietly.
A routine spar.
No stakes.
No audience.
One of the originally injured cultivators faced a peer of similar realm. They exchanged blows evenly at first.
Then the rhythm shifted.
Not faster.
Smoother.
The injured cultivator did not win decisively. But he did not falter either.
Afterward, he stood upright, breathing evenly.
His opponent leaned on his knees, chest heaving.
The yard was silent.
No cheers followed.
But eyes lingered.
That night, Gu Hao reviewed his notes.
Channel resistance: reduced.
Recovery time: shortened.
Qi leakage: lower.
No breakthroughs.
No realm advancement.
And yet…
The cultivators could train longer.
Fight steadier.
Endure without tearing themselves apart.
This was not a shortcut.
It was removal of waste.
Gu Yuan approached him the next day.
"This method," the elder said slowly, "does it replace cultivation manuals?"
Gu Hao shook his head. "It prepares the body to use them."
Gu Yuan considered that. "Then it favors no one."
"Yes," Gu Hao replied. "Which is why it scales."
Gu Hao did not rush to formalize anything.
He waited.
Watched for backlash.
For injury.
For stagnation.
None came.
Instead, requests did.
Quiet ones.
"Patriarch… may I join?"
"Just to see?"
"For my old injury?"
Gu Hao accepted selectively.
Always cautiously.
That night, alone, he allowed himself a brief calculation.
He paid the cost privately.
The answer did not show glory.
But it showed endurance.
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
Good.
He wrote a single line in his notes:
Before you widen the river, clear the stones.
Outside, the Gu Clan settled into sleep.
Cultivators lay down with bodies that no longer felt like obstacles to their own ambition.
And for the first time, Gu Hao allowed himself a quiet certainty:
When the next opportunity for power arrived…
They would be ready to receive it.