The wind howled past, cold but invigorating. My breath ca in steady exhales, my heartbeat even as my feet barely touched the frost-covered ground before propelling forward again.
We were moving at a brisk pace, one that should have been beyond reason for any ordinary traveler. Boxes were strapped to our backs, packed with vials, herbs, and supplies, the weight enough to cripple any normal person attempting this speed. But for us, it was effortless.
The Verdant Lotus Sect disciples kept up with ease, their figures flickering like green shadows against the wintry backdrop. Windy slithered along at a pace that defied nature, barely needing to exert effort to match our speed. Tianyi hovered overhead, her wings unfurling occasionally to glide, her presence a near-constant in my periphery.
And ?
I felt light.
For the first ti in what felt like months, I moved without restraint. No torturous weight slowing down, no pressure crushing my limbs. My body was my own again, and I reveled in it. Every step sent soaring, my qi circulating with a newfound ease, the ground flying beneath as though I had transcended so invisible barrier.
For the first ti, I felt fast.
It made the journey almost exhilarating. Almost enjoyable, despite the looming destination. I was tempted to push myself harder, to see how far this new freedom could take , but I forced myself to rein in the impulse. We were traveling as a unit, and discipline was more important than speed.
Instead, I turned to Xu Ziqing, who was keeping pace beside , his expression calm and unreadable.
“I wanted to ask sothing,” I began carefully. “About the demonic cultists who attacked you.”
Xu Ziqing’s gaze flickered to , patient, waiting. I hesitated, struggling to phrase my thoughts without sounding insulting.
I had fought these cultists firsthand. I knew how terrifying they were. How unyielding. Even the lowest of their ranks fought to the last breath, their bodies augnted with corruption, their minds drowned in fanaticism.
I couldn’t imagine them taking on not just one, but multiple demonic cultists alone and surviving.
But how could I say that without implying I doubted them?
“You want to ask how we managed to survive?”
I opened my mouth to deflect, but he was already nodding to himself. “It’s a fair question. We were outclassed. Badly. And we were outnumbered.”
His voice remained level, but there was sothing in his eyes. Sothing distant. A mory replayed behind them, stark and unrelenting.
“We should have died.”
Ping Hai, who had been running just a step behind us, grunted in agreent but said nothing.
Xu Ziqing exhaled. “We only survived because of heaven’s fortune. And a single mont of clarity.”
I frowned. “What do you an?”
“True Alignnt.”
I blinked. “What?”
Xu Ziqing glanced at . “It goes by many nas. That’s just the most common term.”
“True Alignnt,” I repeated, rolling the phrase over in my mind. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, he adjusted his grip on his supplies, shifting the weight on his back before speaking again.
“It is the perfect strike.” His voice was asured, deliberate. “A single mont when everything aligns. Your mastery of martial fundantals, your understanding of the Dao, your physical condition, and even the world around you—terrain, air flow, spiritual energy.”
I furrowed my brow. “So… a technique?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not sothing you can force. It is not a technique you train, nor a skill you activate. It is a state of absolute synchronicity.”
I let that sink in. “So… it just happens?”
“It happens when it happens. So cultivators spend their whole lives never achieving it. So experience it once and chase that mont forever.”
I frowned. “And you did?”
A shadow crossed his expression. “Once. Before this. But in Qingmu, I felt it again; it let kill one cultist outright and cripple another. If not for that mont…” He exhaled slowly. “We wouldn’t be talking right now.”
I mulled over Xu Ziqing’s words, trying to wrap my head around the concept. It sounded… strange. “So, what? It’s just a really, really powerful lucky blow?”
“No,” Jian Feng’s voice cut in from behind. His breathing was steady, his stride unbroken despite the conversation. “It’s more than that.”
I glanced back at him. His expression was serious, contemplative. “It’s so exceedingly rare that most martial artists will go through their entire lives without ever achieving it,” he continued. “Even if they dedicate everything to cultivation, even if they are geniuses in combat, it doesn’t guarantee they’ll ever experience it.”
“Why not?” I asked.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Because it can never be replicated,” Jian Feng said simply.
That gave pause. “What do you an?”
Xu Ziqing picked up the explanation. “It’s not just about skill. It's not like reaching a new stage in cultivation where you understand sothing and then apply it at will. True Alignnt is not purely internal. It’s a collision of perfect conditions; your stance, your breathing, your footing, the environnt, the opponent's movents, the exact second your body reaches peak synchronization with your qi and the Dao.”
Jian Feng nodded. “Think about it. Where are you hitting the opponent? Is your foot placent exact? Is the surface level? Did the wind change? Even a fraction of a difference ans you won’t achieve the sa result twice.”
That sounded... frustrating. “So you’re saying you could do everything perfectly, have a lifeti of experience, and still never get it?”
“Yes,” Jian Feng said. “That’s exactly what we’re saying.”
I frowned, chewing on the thought. “What if it happens in training? Couldn’t soone accidentally land a blow like that on a sparring partner and kill them?”
“No,” Xu Ziqing said firmly. “Because True Alignnt only occurs in monts of extre focus; when your life is truly on the line. A training match, no matter how serious, won’t invoke the level of synchronization needed to trigger it. Your mind is still in a state of learning, analyzing, adjusting. Not pure instinct.”
I exhaled. So it was more than just the conditions lining up. It was the state of mind. The absolute, unshakable clarity that only ca in the face of life or death.
“So you’re telling none of this matters. I could be fighting soone weaker than , and they'd just punch , the stars align, and I turn into a paste on the floor?”
Jian Feng’s lips twitched slightly. “It’s not about luck, exactly. But it could happen. At any cultivation stage.”
Xu Ziqing, however, just gave a knowing look. “It’s hard to believe until it happens to you.”
I rolled my shoulders, dismissing the thought. “If it’s truly a matter of chance, then there’s not much point in chasing it, is there?”
“Precisely.” Xu Ziqing inclined his head. “Many martial artists waste their years chasing the mory of True Alignnt, trying to recreate it, only to fail. The wiser ones accept it for what it is; a gift granted in the mont and nothing more.”
I let out a breath. “Well, if that’s the case, I won’t waste ti thinking about it.”
Xu Ziqing scoffed, a hint of a smile visible on his face. “That’s probably for the best.”
The conversation faded as the group pressed onward.
Eventually, we reached a natural break point; a wide clearing surrounded by frost-covered trees, the cold air crisp but not unbearable. The sun had begun to dip, casting long shadows across the snow-dusted ground. It was a good spot to pause.
"Rest here for a bit," Jian Feng announced, already pulling his pack from his shoulders. "We’ll need the energy for the next stretch."
I stretched my arms, rolling my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed a pause until I stopped moving. The sheer freedom I had in my body now, unburdened by the weight of the Black Tortoise Tribulation, made movent feel like sothing entirely new.
But there was sothing else I needed to focus on.
As the others settled down, I turned inward, my gaze shifting to the Interface’s rewards.
Reward calculation completed.
Your skill, Rooted Banyan Stance, has been blessed by the Black Tortoise. It has evolved, inheriting the resilience of the ancient beast.
Rooted Banyan Stance (Level 7):
A foundational body cultivation technique that embodies the nature of the banyan tree: immovable and resilient. Through this skill, the cultivator hardens muscles and skin, creating an impenetrable defense and fostering deep-rooted stability. This cultivator also emits their Qi outward to provide an additional protective layer. As with the mighty banyan, this stance anchors the cultivator in place, grounding them against any form of disruption or attack. Blessed by the Black Tortoise, this stance now passively reduces the impact of incoming force and enhances resistance to displacent embodying the weight and endurance of the ancient guardian.
The Black Tortoise recognizes your endurance. Where others fall, you will remain standing.
Black Tortoise’s Endurance (Level 1)
Your body's natural resilience has been reinforced, amplifying durability and reducing physical strain. Healing rate is significantly improved, allowing minor wounds to close rapidly and deeper injuries to nd faster with proper rest. Stamina recovery has been enhanced, delaying exhaustion and allowing for prolonged exertion without decline in performance. Resistance to fatigue and qi depletion is heightened, ensuring that sustained combat or long periods of movent have less impact on your overall condition.
You have received a Technique Token.
I stared at the rewards, feeling an exhilaration rise from deep within my chest, so powerful that it nearly stole my breath away.
Yet, beneath that exhilaration was a quiet, nagging thought.
The Black Tortoise recognized . Did that an the mythical creature was real, and also watching my every move? Was it related to the Interface?
I shook my head slightly. The Interface offered no further answers, and speculating wouldn't get anywhere. Instead, I refocused on what I had received.
Even now, standing still, I could feel the passive effects of the Black Tortoise's Endurance. Despite the punishing speed we'd maintained, my stamina hadn't even co close to being bottod out. The lingering fatigue from our travel was already fading away, as if washed clean from my limbs.
My gaze shifted over to Tianyi, who was gently fluttering above a snowbank, absently swirling flakes of snow around her fingers.
“Tianyi,” I called, stepping toward her. “Hit .”
Before I could brace properly, she moved with unexpected swiftness. A foot struck my stomach firmly, driving the air from my lungs and dropping onto one knee in the snow.
“Tianyi,” I coughed, holding up a hand as she hurriedly reached out to steady , worry creasing her features. “Give a second to prepare next ti.”
“Sorry.” she murmured, stepping back with an apologetic look.
I rose back to my feet, brushing snow off my robes as several disciples glanced over curiously from the edges of our temporary camp. I ignored their amused glances, focusing inward as I slid naturally into the horse stance. The familiarity was imdiate, my feet sinking firmly into the snowy ground, arms locked into position.
“Now,” I told her, activating Rooted Banyan Stance.
In an instant, my muscles hardened, my skin tightening with a rigidity unlike anything I'd previously experienced. My entire body seed to gain the density of tal, my feet anchored into the snow as if I'd taken root into the very earth beneath.
Tianyi moved again, this ti repeating the exact sa kick. Even without being rendered immobile, dodging her kicks was impossible. Her foot collided with solidly, kicking up a spray of snow from the impact. Yet this ti, there was no pain—only a dulled sense of contact. My stance did not waver even slightly.
“Again,” I instructed, my voice steady with confidence.
Tianyi nodded, striking from different angles now, each kick swift and precise. Every blow was t with unyielding resistance. It felt as though her strikes were hitting solid rock, each impact dispersing harmlessly.
“Stop,” I finally said, disengaging the technique. I straightened, testing my limbs and feeling how little my qi reserves had diminished. A satisfied smile tugged at my lips.
Before I could fully savor my newfound strength, Ping Hai's deep voice broke through my contemplation. "Would you like to try as well, benefactor?"
A sudden chill crept down my spine as mories surged forth. Our battle from what felt like a lifeti ago, when I'd barely set foot on the martial path. Ping Hai had been a towering giant then, his fists like iron hamrs, with a grip that could crush coal into diamond. Yet, even as my apprehension rose, I studied him carefully. Tianyi, despite her delicate fra, possessed speed and strength far surpassing the Ping Hai from my mory.
Surely, I'd already faced worse?
"Go ahead," I finally said, trying to sound steadier than I felt.
Ping Hai nodded, sliding one foot back, sinking into a solid stance that made his massive fra seem even more imposing. My heart thumped harder when I caught the scar crossing his brow. Proof he'd grown since our last encounter.
With a surge of qi, Ping Hai unleashed a punch that seed capable of obliterating a tree trunk. Instinct scread at to move, but I held firm, activating the Rooted Banyan Stance at full force. His fist collided squarely with my chest, and for a split second, a tremor coursed through . But it swiftly dissipated, redirected downward, causing cracks to spiderweb outward across the frozen ground beneath us.
Silence fell over the campsite, broken only by my incredulous laughter. "Incredible…" I breathed, shaking my head in disbelief.
Emboldened, I turned toward Xu Ziqing, hesitation knotting my throat. "Could you… try as well?"
The Azure Moon Marauder raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "You want to use my sword?"
I swallowed, nodding carefully. I shrugged off the top half of my robe, not wanting to risk damaging it, and braced myself. "Strike with force. But, you know, without killing intent. I'm trying to gauge if I can handle weapon attacks."
He nodded solemnly, drawing his blade with practiced grace. A tense silence followed as I felt his qi sharpen, radiating outward in palpable waves. Even among this group of seasoned cultivators and spirit beasts, Xu Ziqing's strength stood out starkly.
Then, he moved.
His sword arced toward swiftly, aid deliberately at a non-vital area. My muscles clenched involuntarily as the blade struck my body—but the anticipated pain never ca. Instead, the sword simply bounced off, leaving nothing but a faint mark on my skin.
"Remarkable," Xu Ziqing murmured, stepping back and sheathing his sword. His voice held genuine respect. "You've developed an exceptional defense."
I exhaled slowly, easing out of the stance and considering my limitations. As formidable as Rooted Banyan Stance had beco, its greatest flaw remained clear: transitioning from immobility to motion. Against slower, powerful foes, it'd be a powerful defense. But a swift or clever opponent could exploit the brief mont it took to enter or exit the stance.
It wouldn't do to be careless. Especially when the foes we had to worry about were cultists.
My thoughts spiraled, planning scenarios and strategies. Recognizing a technique's limits was as critical as mastering it. Eyes closed, deep in contemplation, I began, "The real challenge is knowing when to—"
A sudden, heavy strike crashed into my leg, cutting my words short and sending sprawling face-first into the snow. The world spun briefly as laughter erupted around the clearing. Lifting my head indignantly, I saw Windy innocently flicking his tail, as though surprised I crumbled from his blow.
"Hey! Testing's over! Stop hitting already!" I shouted, cheeks reddening from embarrassnt as my friends' amusent echoed through the snowy woods.
Reviews
All reviews (0)