Blossoming Path

Weeks had passed since I returned, and life had finally settled into something resembling normalcy. At first, it was overwhelming. Between catching up with the villagers, setting the shop back in order, and making time for training, I felt like I was trying to juggle a hundred different tasks all at once. But now? Now it felt effortless, like slipping back into an old, familiar routine.

Of course, "effortless" didn’t apply to everything. Not when it came to Elder Ming’s training regimen, which had, without a doubt, turned into my own personal hell.

Every morning, like clockwork, I’d wake up before dawn, join Lan-Yin and Wang Jun for training, and face whatever new form of torment Elder Ming had concocted. He’d wave us off with a smile, then add, “Oh, and Kai? No using qi today.”

At first, I thought it was a joke. But after one too many mornings of running through the hills with rocks strapped to my limbs, I realized he was serious. Dead serious. According to him, if my body couldn’t keep up with my cultivation, I was doomed to hit a wall later on. He kept harping on about building a strong core and lower body. Apparently, it didn’t matter what martial art you practiced—whether you were a swordmaster or a fist-fighter—if your legs were weak, you’d collapse like a rotting log.

“Maybe he’s secretly a sadist,” I muttered under my breath, trying to keep pace as we sprinted uphill yet again. “There’s no way any normal human could come up with this.”

“Did you say something?” Wang Jun panted beside me, already starting to lag behind. He wore similar weights along his legs, albeit smaller than mine.

“Just... thinking about how much I love early mornings.”

Lan-Yin, further ahead and looking as fresh as ever, threw a glance over her shoulder. “Keep up, boys. You’re falling behind!”

I gritted my teeth, putting everything I had into each step. No qi, no shortcuts—just raw, burning muscle. By the time we finished the sprint, I was seeing stars and couldn’t feel my legs.