In Anger, without warning, Gao lunged at Wuyi, fists and boots flying. His attack resembled more of a child's tantrum than a calculated assault.
Wuyi shielded his face and abdon but soon realized that Gao's blows were ineffective. Gao felt that he was not able to harm Wuyi, so he reinforced his body with Qi as he struck.
But Wuyi's pure Qi reinforced his body too and it was stronger; it subtly repelled Gao's attacks, careful not to make it obvious. When Gao finally ceased, Wuyi looked up to find the other students staring at him with a mix of disgust and fear.
Even CiXin seed to have reached her limit. Wuyi looked at Gao as well as the kids without trying to hide his thoughts; he looked at them with the contempt that he really felt. Gao's face turned ashen, and in that mont, Wuyi sensed that Gao had made a decision. He had crossed a line, and he knew it.
For the first ti, Wuyi felt as if he had won a significant battle, not just against Gao but also in his journey of cultivation. The balance of power had shifted, and they both felt it. Gao could not hurt him anymore with his punishnts.
As the days passed, Wuyi's strength continued to grow, albeit discreetly.
Wuyi found himself increasingly impatient with the slow pace of Gao's instruction, but he still acted patiently and endured all the abuse. While the others struggled to grasp what seed so intuitive to him, the only work that Wuyi had to do was concealing his progress from Gao. Gao would often touch Wuyi with a tendril of Qi, probing his channels, seeking the source of his mysterious strength.
But Wuyi was always one step ahead, evading Gao's prying senses.
"You are ready," Gao announced to the kids on a particularly cold evening. The sky was a deep blue, and the brightest stars had already begun to appear. Kids flexed his toes inside the leather shoes that Gao had permitted them to wear, attempting to stave off the cold.
"Until now, I have guided you in the Qi flow technique. Today, we will attempt a full cycle of Qi and try to open the Baihui point." Gao began his slow circuit among them.
So were rebuked for their failures, labeled as lazy or stupid. So boys received praise, while girls such as CiXin were slapped for their overeagerness. Then, it was Wuyi's turn. He braced himself, feeling the brush of Gao's Qi against his channels. He followed the path Gao was taking, alert and ready. For a mont, they were in perfect balance, like children on a seesaw.
Then, without warning, Gao's Qi slamd with all his force into Wuyi's channels today he was going to end it.
For Wuyi It felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, but on a spiritual level. He couldn't master his thoughts; Gao was rifling through his channels, trying to ransack his vessel to figure out what cultivation Wuyi was hiding. Gao had caught him off guard, and he knew it.
In that mont of Gao's careless triumph, Wuyi found an opening. He seized Gao's Qi, just as Gao had seized his. His statues began to absorb it, and in that dizzying instant, he realized he was stronger than Gao in every aspect. He could manipulate Gao's Qi in any way he chose.
He decided to let his statues drain Gao's Qi from his body.
"No!" Gao shrieked, his voice tinged with struggle.
"Yes!" Wuyi insisted, gripping Gao's Qi even tighter.
"Die!" Gao commanded, but Wuyi knew he wouldn't. He focused his will and bore down on his grip.
Qi is impartial; it doesn't favor the victor or the vanquished. Gao was suffering, and After a while Wuyi realized he was overdoing it—if he killed Gao, there would be trouble, so he stopped.
He knew Gao would lash out at him, but what was done was don.
Wuyi had to accept one fact: stealing Qi from Gao felt good. This sensation was unlike anything Wuyi had ever experienced. It could be described as pleasure, but that term felt inadequate. It was not the warmth of a winter fire, nor the fragrance of a blooming rose, nor the sweetness of honey on the tongue.
It was sothing transcendent, sothing that washed over Wuyi, filling every fiber of his being with an indescribable elation.
Wuyi wondered,"Was this how demonics cultivated? He had heard that so demonics could steal others' cultivations."
When Wuyi loosened his grip on Gao, the petty Gao lashed out with all the strength of all his Qi.
Gao himself was a level six Qi initiate.
"Bastard!" Gao's bellow shattered the mont. His fist connected with the side of Wuyi's head, sending him sprawling to the ground he was not holding back. Wuyi had made a decision: he would let Gao injure him today and then excuse himself permanently from this class. After all, he already had a path to beco a Qi adept.
He felt Gao's kicks, the cold, hard stones bruising and scraping his skin, while the most dominant Qi of Valor within him moved to protect his vital organs.
Gradually, Gao's lashing ceased. He stood over Wuyi, disheveled and panting, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "Die," he hissed, and Wuyi felt the malevolence in his words.
But Wuyi knew Gao would not kill him—not this way. If Gao wanted to kill Wuyi, it would not be with direct confrontation but with so excuse, like Qi harming the ridians or another cultivation thod.
Although Wuyi had protected all his important organs, there was no permanent damage; still, Gao had tried to inflict severe harm. Wuyi's nose bled, his breaths ca in painful gasps, and the force of Gao's kicks had scraped skin off his body as he slid across the tower's stone floor.
The various pains were so contradictory, each demanding its own attention, that he couldn't even begin to assess the extent of his injuries—the only certainty was that they were not permanent, but he might need rest for a month or two. He lay there, unable to muster the strength to stand. Even though he was a Qi initiate, he had not forged his body, so the pain and hurt were still very intense.
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