Sultan woke up the next morning feeling that his body was lighter than usual.
It wasn't a significant change, just a faint sensation that movement had become easier, that his vision was sharper. He rose from his bed, put on his threadbare garment, and went out to the courtyard.
The sky was clear, the air cold as usual. He took the broom and began sweeping, but his hand moved mechanically while his mind was occupied with other things.
He was thinking about the pill he had taken yesterday. About that strange feeling that had coursed through his veins. About the warmth that still resided in his chest, more pronounced than ever.
Shhh... Shhh...
After finishing the sweeping, he went to the dining hall. He ate his stale loaf with water, thinking about his remaining points. Twenty points still in his pocket. He hadn't spent any of them yet. He was saving them for a real need.
He left the hall, and suddenly Naghme approached him quickly.
"Sultan!"
He turned to her. She looked tense.
"What happened?"
She looked around to make sure no one was watching them, then whispered: "Harith was talking with his followers yesterday. I heard them mention your name. They said they'll teach you a lesson soon. Be careful."
He felt his heart beat strongly. Harith. The arrogant disciple who hadn't forgotten the humiliation in the dining hall.
"Thank you, Naghme. I'll be careful."
Naghme smiled faintly. "You're my friend. No need for thanks."
Naghme walked away, leaving Sultan thinking.
He knew this day would come. Harith wasn't the type to forget. He had to become stronger, and quickly.
He remembered Muneer's words: "Come to me if you want to learn."
In the evening, after finishing his daily chores, he headed to Muneer's room.
The room was behind the main hall, in a quiet corner of the wing. Its door was ordinary wood, but he felt something different when he stood before it. He knocked gently.
"Enter."
He opened the door and went in.
The room was small but tidy. In one corner, a simple bed. In the other corner, a desk filled with old books and yellowed papers. On the wall, a strange map of a starry sky, with intertwined lines he didn't understand.
Muneer was sitting on a wooden chair beside a small table, reading an ancient book. He raised his head when Sultan entered, and smiled.
"Finally you came. I was waiting for you."
He gestured to another chair opposite him. Sultan sat.
Muneer was silent for a moment, looking at Sultan with penetrating eyes. Then he said:
"Do you want to become strong?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Sultan hesitated. No one had ever asked him this question before.
"Because... I'm tired of weakness. Tired of being the one who gets hit and doesn't fight back. I want to protect myself, and protect... my friends."
Muneer smiled. "A good answer. Many want strength for themselves alone. You want it to protect others as well. That's a big difference."
Muneer rose slowly, leaning on his cane, and walked toward the map on the wall. He pointed to it with his cane.
"Do you know what this is?"
Sultan shook his head.
"This is a map of the path. The path of power." He looked at Sultan. "In our world, there are six main stages of power. Six ranks that cannot be bypassed."
Muneer began explaining in a calm, wise voice:
"The first rank is called Qi. It is the beginning of everything. The cultivator in this rank starts gathering energy in their body, feeling it flow through their veins. They are like a child taking their first steps."
He looked at Sultan. "You are now in this rank. At its intermediate level, thanks to the pill you took."
Sultan felt a hint of pride. At least he was on the right path.
"The second rank is Foundation Establishment. Here, the cultivator builds a solid base for their energy, stabilizes it in their body. If compared to a cultivator in Foundation Establishment, it would be like the difference between a child and a man. If you fought, you would fall in one blow."
Sultan remembered Harith. Was he in the Foundation Establishment rank? That explained his excessive confidence.
"The third rank, Golden Core. At this stage, the energy reserves in the body expand tremendously. A Golden Core cultivator is incomparable to someone in Qi."
Muneer continued his explanation, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight:
"The fourth, Golden Heart. Here, energy condenses and transforms into an essence."
"The fifth, Sacred Body. At this stage, the body is purified, becoming capable of absorbing higher energy."
"And the sixth, Sacred Soul. Here, the soul itself evolves, and divine sense is born. The cultivator at this rank can sense those around them, see without their eyes. Whoever reaches this rank becomes one of the strongest cultivators in our world."
Muneer fell silent for a moment, letting the words resonate in Sultan's mind.
"These are the six ranks in our world." Muneer said as he returned to sit. "Whoever reaches the sixth rank becomes one of the strongest cultivators here. But this isn't everything."
He looked at Sultan with serious eyes.
"Above these ranks, there are other worlds. Higher worlds. But that's a talk for another time. Now, you are in the Qi rank. Your next goal is Foundation Establishment. Do you feel despair?"
Sultan thought briefly. Then shook his head.
"No. I feel the path has become clearer."
Muneer smiled broadly. "That is the difference. Many see the mountain and become despairing. You see it and prepare to climb."
Muneer rose again, and went to his desk. He opened a drawer and took out a small book, its cover old leather, its pages yellowed.
"Take this. Read it. It contains basic exercises for purifying energy and increasing your power. Follow them precisely."
Sultan took the book carefully. He felt its weight in his hand, not the weight of paper, but the weight of knowledge.
"Thank you, Muneer. Thank you very much."
Muneer patted his shoulder. "Don't thank me. Just train. Be strong."
Sultan hesitated for a moment, then asked: "Muneer... Harith. Which rank is he in?"
Muneer looked at him seriously. "Harith is in the Foundation Establishment rank. He is much stronger than you. If you fought now, you would lose easily."
Sultan felt a heaviness in his chest. But he didn't despair.
"But that doesn't mean you'll always lose." Muneer added. "With hard work, with training, you'll reach him. And perhaps surpass him."
Sultan rose to bid Muneer farewell. At the door, Muneer turned and said:
"Beware of him. But don't fear him. Fear is a greater enemy than any opponent."
Sultan left the room, the book in his hand.
On his way to his room, he thought about everything he had heard. Six ranks. He was in the first. Harith in the second. The difference was big, but not impossible.
In his room, he lit his candle and began reading the book. The exercises were simple at first, focusing on breathing, on sensing energy, on directing it through the body.
He tried a simple exercise. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and focused on his breath.
He felt that warmth in his chest move. Not strongly, but lightly, as if responding to his commands.
He continued for minutes, until he tired. He opened his eyes and felt that he had changed. A slight change, but real.
Outside, it was pitch dark. He heard the sound of wind, and the sound of light, distant footsteps.
Harith.
He extinguished the candle and lay down.
He was thinking about tomorrow. About what was to come. About Harith. About the Foundation Establishment rank.
But he knew now. Knew what awaited him, and knew how to reach it.
In the darkness, he whispered:
"I will reach Foundation Establishment. Then beyond it. I will become strong."
And in his chest, that warmth increased slightly, as if in agreement.
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