The blade flicked downwards, conveyed forth by the weight of its arc— it was, for that singular mont, inevitable as it sliced through the air. Not by qi or any artifice of man, but rely by its nature; it severed, and left behind the severing; it could not fail to sever. Such was its weight.
Then, the mont was passed, and Lily held the final pose as awkwardly, as best as she could before Qinfu waved a hand and she slumped in exhaustion. Sword practice was always difficult. Qinfu demanded nothing less than perfection, even when pushing her into situations she really was not prepared for. How she was supposed to perfectly execute a form that she’d never done before…
No, that was uncharitable. She knew exactly how. It was that step, though, to move forth from knowing to doing; from understanding the comprehending, in that deep, central way, that still eluded her even in the shadow of spring.
Qinfu nodded at her, the gesture aning she was— at last— allowed to sheath her sword and recuse herself from that state of perfect, bladesman’s attention. “Good.” His own blade sighed as it settled into his sheath. “You did good. Not perfectly, but good enough. When you get to the sect, so of those movents will have to be refined before you can do anything of note, but those are the sort of refinents that cannot be made at the mont. It would be remiss of to set you on an imperfect way, and so until you have the proper cultivation to use those techniques, we’ll avoid the more strenuous ones.”
Lily grimaced. “It… alright.” She did not dare argue with Qinfu, of course. It was not just that he was a Core Formation cultivator— though that certainly played a rather large roll in it. Rather, she simply respected the man. He’d done nothing but his best to make sure that she was prepared for the rigors of the University, and that ca with a certain understanding, shared between the two of them. “Do you an technique, or technique?"
Qinfu was quiet for a mont, beckoning for her to follow as they made their way back from the training field and towards the central area of the university. When she walked alone, she was forgettable; when she walked with him, everyone stared.
They did not have to walk, she knew; Qinfu’s mastery of the flying sword was not insignificant. The fact that they so often did carried a aning to it, one that Lily was not entirely sure she was fit to decipher. Perhaps it was rely to… think, in the slow mont, even as weariness weighed down her limbs. Perhaps it was simply to cool down from the high of combat. Good habits, perhaps? She wasn’t sure.
Nevertheless, he didn’t speak a word to her as the made their way back through the University grounds, until they reached at last his little tower— the familiar shape of it evoking a wholly different emotion than it had the first ti she’d seen it. Now, it was… comfortable, almost; a simple thing to walk in, when even that simple thing a year prior would have been incredible. To be so easily accepted into the domain of a Core Formation cultivator…
Climbing, then, the stairs that ascended up to the top of the building— they found themselves at the sa room they usually sat in. It was a barren room, sotis, but not this ti— rather, the servants had set up a lavish arrangent, hauling in works of art and a verdant, weeping lotus-plant, blooming out of season— and an entire feast, least of all. Its fragrant aromas spilt out gently, suffusing the air— the qi, in turn, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much a al like that must have cost Qinfu.
She knew, too, that it was part of her task to understand the al before her, so she turned her mind to that— cataloguing the different sources of qi and what she thought their aning was, and finding which ones would be most beneficial, and which ones would be most fitting for the arrangents.
Qinfu smiled as he settled down, rely passing a faint sweep of his spiritual sense over the entire arrangent before sighing in content. “I like this al a great deal. For purely sentintal reasons, I assure you— it is not every day that one can have such a thing! Yet it’s a good al for today’s conversation, I suppose.”
“Did you… plan it?”
“No.” Simply, stated. “Curious, sotis, how the hand of providence works out.” Lily just nodded. “You asked earlier, whether the techniques I was speaking of were techniques, or techniques. I know you know of the latter, but can you tell what a technique is?”
“I’m not entirely sure. It’s a carving in the spirit of a cultivator, controlled not by the carving itself—” at least not wholly, because any idiot couldn’t just carve whatever they want and do whatever they want, as much as they might wish they could— “but rather, by the… the soul? For lack of a better word, the soul of the cultivator.”
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Qinfu snorted. “I see you too have stepped onto the path of describing everything with esoteric and profound terminology.”
“Sorry—”
“It’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He laughed, brightly— truthfully, and after a brief mont, Lily let the feeling go. It wasn’t worth holding onto anyways. “These sorts of things defy easy description— I assure you that even the best jade slips can struggle to get the intent of their maker across, and don’t even start with the level of esoteric stuff a cultivator of my rank has to endure through just to glimpse at the secret of my next advancent.”
“To sundering?”
“Sundering is a black mirror; I don’t even think about it,” he responded frankly. “No, I speak of the layering of my core, which is itself an entire other thing involving the Foundation, which involves the ridians…” he shook his head, falling silent for a mont. “You have the general gist of things, I think. Most people when they first start carving their very first technique know less than you do, which may be part of why so many promising candidates undergo deviation… but these sorts of things cannot be rushed.”
Lily tried to think of a response, and failed. What was there even to say? This was already so beyond her… instead, she just ate a bite of her al. It was a good al, too.
“They are techniques in the truest sense of the word, to answer your question. The Bloody Saffron Sect has a set of core techniques that slot neatly into our cultivation thod— with so variations depending on the exact shape of one’s spirit, and how well they’ve managed their own cultivation.”
“The spirit of different cultivators is…” obviously. Obviously it was different. Avyr had more qi than most cultivators of his level should have access to, and his spirit was probably bigger to match. Or perhaps more concentrate… that was beside the point. “That’s why they keep telling not to actually use any of the techniques I make myself.”
Qinfu nodded. “It’s also why the Outer Elder warned your cohort as such at the start of your first sester.” It took her a second to dredge up the exact mory— a slight bit more difficult, given it was one from before her more exact, cultivator’s senses— but she did rember that. Vaguely. “It is one of the major ways promising cultivators ruin their futures, by crafting an incorrect technique. I’m aware that you’re young still. You’ve probably not heard the horror stories.”
“Horror stories?”
“Of cultivators who permanently stunt their path out of haste, or who fail to make techniques and leave their spirit forever scarred.” Not actually horror, then… Qinfu seed to grasp what she was thinking, chuckling. “I assure you, when you spend years upon years chasing an impossible goal, the thought that sothing might cut that short— that you’d have to live with it being cut short, for the rest of your long life… it is a terrible thing.”
That… made sense. She could see that. “How does it work? ridian Opening, that is.” She decided to cut to the heart of the matter. “If all these other techniques require knowledge to work with, then how can soone do sothing so… so perfectly esoteric?” So perfectly epheral? It didn’t make any sort of rational sense…
“You’re thinking about it wrong. Does it take a sage to be human? Does the master move without intent, in their working? If the swordsman must cut to bear the weight of a profound technique, then what must the cultivator do?”
“I…” she pondered that, for a long mont, occasionally taking a bite or two to eat. Then she frowned. “Are you being deliberately obtuse? Not that I would ever accuse the honorable Daoist Severing Dust of being purposefully obtuse, but that was… less than useful.”
Qinfu laughed. “You dare? You have eyes to see, but cannot see how vast the heavens truly are! I would never do such a thing!” She gave him her best unimpressed look, and he laughed again. “Yes, I was being deliberately obtuse. Not that there is no value in that sort of thing— for the ancients spoke in taphor and poetry, and the ancients laid down the building blocks of the system that beca our modern cultivation.”
“I…” no, clearly he was telling her that he wasn’t going to tell her more. “Of course.” She had been given a corner; now she must be able to find the other three. This was his response, to her question…
Yet, one question still remained, above the technical musings— “who?” Because there had to be soone. “Who told you not to tell ?” She knew Qinfu too well to think that he would deliberately withhold information from her in any normal circumstance. He was usually quite forthcoming with these sorts of things.
Qinfu just smiled back. “You know I can’t answer that.” And that was that.
The al was very good…
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