Chapter 132 - 127: Healing
The lights in the Williams’ home went out earlier than usual tonight.
His mother coughed twice and went upstairs. The days had been growing colder.
His father had been working overtime for several days. He came home, ate dinner, and went straight to bed.
The oil lamp in his sister’s room was also extinguished before ten.
Richard finished his nightly practice as usual.
His Spiritual Vision’s Fixed Gaze was now stable for fifteen seconds, three seconds longer than last week.
On his way home, he’d picked three objects for a small Stone Reading test: a pencil, an ink bottle, and a piece of an eraser.
The readings of all three items corresponded with his state that day. The patterns between the symbols and their positions were slowly beginning to take shape in his mind.
He closed his notebook and slid it into the drawer, then wrapped the Copper Disc in cloth and returned it to its place. The last step was to temper the Oil Lamp.
During the last exhalation phase of the Quadruple Breathing, he guided a wisp of remaining Ether from the Throne of the Sun to his right palm, pressing it against the lamp’s body to inject the energy.
He repeated this entire sequence daily, so practiced that it had become second nature.
Pure Ether was drawn from his Spiritual Appearance. The body of the lamp went from cold to warm, then grew scalding hot before finally cooling down.
Richard put the lamp back in its spot on the corner of the table and reached out to wind the alarm clock.
The familiar line of text in the corner of his vision trembled slightly.
Breathing Level 2 Progress: 100%
Richard froze.
The progress bar was full.
The advancement condition for Level 3, "Learn an Extraordinary Breathing Technique," had been met three months ago.
The single Available Point he had been saving could finally be used.
He sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed and blew out the desk lamp.
Available Points: 1.13
Sinking his consciousness into the panel, he spent the point.
The physical sensation of the point being injected was different from the previous two times.
At Level 1, it had been like a sealed window in his chest being pushed open a crack, allowing the outside air to rush in for the very first time.
At Level 2, the window had been polished clean. The light grew clearer, and each breath brought back something more.
Now, at Level 3, he could look *through* the window for the first time.
He closed his eyes, his attention sinking to just behind his sternum.
The outline of the Throne of the Sun went from blurry to clear, transforming from a warm ball of light into an inverted tree.
The roots were embedded in the center of his chest. The trunk and branches spread downwards along the path of his aorta, splitting into fine, vessel-like tendrils that extended to his fingertips, toes, and the crown of his head.
The leaves were a thin membrane of light, covering the inner walls of every blood vessel.
The entire tree swayed gently with his breathing.
When he inhaled, the leaves opened, and light surged upward from the roots. When he exhaled, the leaves closed, and the light sank down the branches to the roots.
’This is the true form of the Ether Micro-Cycle.’
He was finally seeing with his own eyes the thing he had been circulating for over three months.
The panel floated at the edge of his vision:
Available Points: 0.13
Breathing Level 3 Progress: 0%
Trait: Healing
He touched the line of text with his consciousness, and a description floated up:
"Healing: During Breathing, the Ether Micro-Cycle performs real-time repairs on the body.
Repair targets include micro-damage to ether pathways, muscle fiber strain, external injuries, bone fractures, and chronic inflammation.
Severe injuries (such as ruptured organs, comminuted fractures, severed limbs, etc.) are beyond the repair scope of this trait."
He had originally thought Healing would be an emergency measure, something like regenerating health after a battle.
In reality, it was more like a long-term maintenance system.
As long as he was Breathing, his body was being silently tended to by an unseen hand.
He lay back on the bed and began the Quadruple Breathing, following the new rhythm.
At the end of each cycle, he could feel certain minuscule points of tension being smoothed out.
A stiff muscle in his shoulder from sitting for too long, the dull, throbbing pain in his temples after overusing his brain, the occasional clicking in his left knee.
These minor, everyday ailments that he usually ignored were smoothed away, one by one, with each new cycle of breath.
The next morning, he woke up before his alarm rang.
Evelyn went downstairs first, as usual.
She paused as she passed her brother’s door, pricking up her ears.
Hearing no movement inside, the girl muttered to herself, "How rare. He’s not trying to beat me to the chores today."
Richard’s mind wasn’t on his textbooks for the entire morning of classes.
He was doing some quiet arithmetic.
Mr. Hutton had once warned him, "The greatest danger in Cultivation isn’t practicing too little, but practicing too much.
An ether pathway is like a river channel. If you draw the water too quickly today, the riverbed will crack tomorrow.
And a cracked riverbed can’t hold any water, no matter how much you pour in."
Everyone in the Newcomer stage was limited by this "riverbed."
But the existence of Healing was like adding a self-maintaining lining to the riverbed.
The water still flowed, and friction still occurred, but the walls of the channel were no longer being unilaterally worn down.
The ceiling had been raised.
He wasn’t sure by how much yet; that would take time to test.
But options he had previously dismissed could now be reconsidered.
......
Arriving at the row of shelves with no classification labels on the third floor of the library, Richard crouched down at the seventh shelf of the fourth row, his fingers sliding along the spines of the books.
He had come here so many times in the past three months that he could distinguish each book’s thickness and cover texture by touch alone.
He was looking for one book in particular.
A book that, after he first deciphered it, he had mentally crossed out and filed under ’not for now.’
A passage ostensibly discussing the hunting rituals of the Northern Forest, but if you took one word out of every five, it described the Path of Burning Blood.
Use blood as kindling and pain as fuel to wring Ether from the depths of the bone marrow;
unleashing it in an instant as explosive power, a higher pain threshold, and heightened senses.
Initiation methods: Ice Water Breath Holding, hyperventilation, muscle whipping, and bone stress training through repeated fracturing and healing.
Richard’s initial reaction upon reading this passage had been to close the book.
With this body’s original constitution, he wouldn’t last through two full cycles of Ice Water Breath Holding, and the muscle whipping would leave him bedridden for three days.
Repeated bone fracture stress training... he couldn’t even get past the first few steps.
But now, he read it again.
’Can the intensity be reduced? Can the recovery period be shortened?’ Each extreme training method was broken down into two questions in his mind.
The answer to the first question was vague.
The answer to the second question, which three months ago was ’no,’ was now ’it depends on how much Healing can mitigate it.’
He flipped to the middle of the book.
The deciphered words floated in his mind:
"Between the Golden Path and the Path of Burning Blood, there exists a vast middle ground.
Not every Cultivator is content to walk those two extreme paths.
One is too gentle, not much different from a patient’s routine convalescence;
the other is too fierce, repeatedly testing the limits of the Death God’s patience.
Some were not satisfied with this, and so they sought other ways of Breathing.
There is more than one such method.
They are scattered deep within major traditions, preserved by their respective schools under different names.
Some lean toward smithing, some toward stealth, and some can make you one with nature.
But whoever is reading this passage, please put down your pen for a moment.
Because these are all Advanced Breathing Techniques.
They cannot exist on their own; they must be built upon a foundational Breathing Technique.
A second floor must be supported by the first. Even if a Newcomer obtained the full text of these methods, they would be unable to practice them.
The reason is simple. The Ether in their body has not yet truly stabilized. The so-called ’Micro-Cycle’ is still an unfinished house.
No matter how precise the blueprint, it first needs load-bearing walls.
Only when a Cultivator crosses the Newcomer threshold and becomes a Practitioner will the Ether Cycle in their body truly stabilize.
Only when their new status is sealed are they qualified to discard the old method and adopt a new one.
Do not be hasty. What lies behind the door can only be used by those who are inside."
"`Advanced Breathing Technique.`" Richard repeated the phrase silently.
’Not something I can touch right now, but it presents a new choice.’
After becoming a Practitioner, he wouldn’t have to choose between ’following the Golden Path to the end and remaining a mild-mannered scholar’ and ’switching directly to the Path of Burning Blood (which is even more impossible).’
Perhaps there was also the Abyss Path, but not to mention its dangers, he had no way to even begin it.
’For now, it’s enough to know that a more suitable path will be available once I reach the Practitioner stage.’
He closed the book and slid it back into its place.
Back home, Richard leaned against the window and went over his plans again.
’The Path of Burning Blood is out of reach for now.’
’Putting aside Ice Water Breath Holding and muscle whipping, and whether Healing could even repair the damage, I don’t have the time or space for that kind of training.’
’Not at home, and definitely not at school.’
’If someone saw me shirtless and covered in red welts from being whipped, the thought of it...’
’But I can selectively try some of the Underlying Logic from the Path of Burning Blood.’
’For example, working out to exhaustion, causing micro-tears in muscle fibers, and letting Healing take care of the recovery.’
Mr. Hutton had said, "Even a Scholar needs fists to protect his desk."
’There will be missions in the future. I can’t place all my hopes on a Hunter Guard.’
’Starting tomorrow, I can begin with some gradual exercise.’
......
Greenwood had two gym classes a week. Richard’s previous attitude toward gym was to skip it if he could, and if he couldn’t, he’d just act as a human roadblock.
But now, he began to participate seriously.
Gym class provided a legitimate, no-questions-asked setting for exercise.
Running in Waste Rock Lane near his home only allowed for the most basic physical training; equipment and space were limited.
The school’s athletic field was crude, but at least it had a running track, a pull-up bar, and a sandpit.
During Tuesday afternoon’s gym class, the teacher led the entire class in a one-thousand-meter warm-up run around the field.
When Richard finished the one-thousand-meter run, he was in the upper-middle pack of the class.
Three months ago, he couldn’t even finish four hundred meters. Now, after a thousand, he was out of breath but didn’t feel like he was about to die.
The gym teacher blew his whistle, signaling free time.
Most of the boys flooded the soccer field, while a few who didn’t like the sport scattered to the edges of the field to chat.
Richard didn’t go play soccer. He walked over to the pull-up bar in the corner of the field.
He jumped up, grabbed the bar, and tried to do a pull-up.
’Of course, the jump up doesn’t count. I need to test myself with a dead hang.’
The first one, he pulled himself up smoothly, chin over the bar.
The third, his arms were shaking, but he still made it up.
The fifth... he couldn’t make it.
He dangled from the bar for a moment, then let go and dropped down.
’Dead hang pull-ups don’t use momentum from your hips. They’re actually pretty hard.’
’Four isn’t bad, I guess.’
’Pull-ups require a lot of upper-body Strength. My training has been focused on my lower body, so my upper-body Strength is my biggest weakness.’
He stood under the bar for a moment, then jumped up to try again.
This time, he only managed three and a half. He got stuck halfway on the fourth.
"Hey, Williams!"
Warren ran over from the soccer field, his jersey covered in grass stains.
"You’re practicing pull-ups?"
"Just trying."
Warren glanced at the pull-up bar, then back at Richard.
"Didn’t you used to not even be able to do one?"
"I can do four now."
"Four?" Warren was a little surprised. "Well, four is definitely better than zero..."
"You have to start somewhere."
Warren thought about it and figured he couldn’t argue with that.
"If you want to build Strength, the school has a Fighting Club, you know?"
"A Fighting Club?"
"Yeah, in the gym. They have group activities every afternoon."
Warren wiped the sweat from his face with his jersey.
"There are a few tough upperclassmen in the club. One of them transferred from a military academy.
I sparred with him last time. Before I could even react, I’d taken two punches to the face."
"Do they have training equipment?"
"Yeah, punching bags, dumbbells, barbells, all that stuff. It’s all old, but it works."
Warren tilted his head. "You want to go?"
"I want to check it out."
"Then I can take you. I know the guy in charge. He’s okay, just a bit hot-headed."