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Mage's Cultivation Journey 11
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 21:55:57 +0000 UTCI skipped a step when I noticed a nice spot ahead of us. A beautiful vista, with a stream that was passing through, large enough for fish to live in. And, after living off porridge for such a long time, the idea of a change was tempting.
However, a culinary shakeup wasn’t the only reason the spot looked appealing.
It had been a week since our trek began, and it was going surprisingly well. It was monotonous, which I was very glad about. Considering my circumstances, monotonous was the greatest gift I could hope for.
Every day, we walked while staying in the wilderness, only slowing down to pick the occasional medicinal plants that we came across; though only a small portion of them actually worth any money. Most, I used in my experimentations, which had no other result than giving me a general understanding of the world itself.
In terms of progress, Yu Xing had better luck than me. Every second he had free, he meditated, making surprising progress. A part of it was my very hands-on teaching. Black in the academy, even the rich kids that got private tutoring didn’t have a mage of fifth circle carefully guiding them through every little aspect of a basic meditation exercise.
But, that didn’t mean the kid deserved no credit. He wasn’t very talented, but he more than compensated it with his hard work. I wanted to stop early, because I hoped he could reach the awareness we required to mobilize his energy.
“Let’s stop for camp,” I called.
Yu Xing looked at the sun. “Isn’t it early?” he asked.
“Maybe, but there’s no harm. It looks like a good place to explore. Maybe we could find some more expensive plants to sell in the town. Also, you are making good progress with meditation. Hopefully, you’ll be able to figure out how to control a smaller part of your energy.”
While I looked forward to arriving at the town, and having someone else to ask questions about the world I found ourselves in, I was against rushing toward it. Once we were among people, even the slightest slip-up could spell my doom.
Not to mention, more people meant more potential enemies.
He looked hesitant. “Tell me,” I said.
“It’s not a good idea to camp this close to a water source,” he said, still afraid of directly contradicting me, but we were also making progress there.
“Savage beasts?” I asked.
“That’s one reason,” he said. “The bigger problem is the more organized gathering teams often scour the areas near sources of water. They can be … possessive.”
“I see,” I said. “Then, let’s continue until we can find a concealed spot. I still want you to work on meditation more. You almost got it the last night.”
That earned another nod, and we walked, coming to a halt about half an hour later. This time, it was a small bald spot in the forest, shaded by a rock outcropping. “Good enough,” I said. “Start meditating while I get a fire going.”
With the nights warm enough to go without a fire, finishing cooking before nightfall was a good way to prevent random encounters. The kid sat on the first flat surface he found, immediately starting his meditation.
I watched, appreciating not just his dedication, but also the way his internal energy shuffled. Unlike the previous days, it was not a random movement, but a deliberate pattern, circling in a pattern.
Then, a small piece separated from the bigger mass, the movement distinct enough for me to catch even from a distance.
“I did it!” he gasped, celebrating his success with joy. I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time since we met, I was seeing something other than pure respect or grim determination. It made him look even younger than sixteen. He lost control, and the smaller piece merged back into the larger whole. “No, it was just an illusion,” he added, his smile fading just as quick.
“No, I felt it. You have succeeded.”
“Then, we can…” he said, his voice fading, unable to even mention his hope.
“Not immediately,” I said. “Practice it until I finish preparing dinner. Then, we eat, rest for some, then try.” For the first time, he looked ready to argue. Too bad it was on one topic I wouldn’t entertain going rogue. “No, I won’t let you practice until I’m sure you won’t lose control of your internal energy while it’s still in your meridians. We don’t want to worsen your injury. Focus on keeping the larger and smaller pieces separate.”
My sharp tone seemed to quash his desire for immediate practice, which was good. Instead, he started practicing the movement, while I worked on the food. I even prepared some of the weaker medicinal plants in the porridge, the ones Yu Xing confirmed to be edible. According to him, they were not consumed unless there was a famine due to their horrible taste.
That, I took it as a challenge, and started trying them. Their taste was as horrible as he said, but all my alchemy experience became useful. I carefully prepared the plants into their smaller components, even going as far as carefully excising the veins of the individual leaves, using the dexterity of a seasoned alchemist. Most of the magical reagents required very careful processing by hand, even the weakest spell tainting their purity, making mundane hand-eye coordination a vital skill for any alchemist.
Was using the abilities of a seasoned alchemist to do the job of an apprentice cook? Certainly, but it wasn’t like my program was filled with things to do. And, adding some surprise aromas to the porridge was a nice way to break the monotony.
The dinner passed in silence, but I could sense his excitement growing. “Now, let’s start,” I said. “Stand up, and punch using the first stance of your style, but don’t use your internal energy.” He nodded, following my advice successfully. “Good. Now, the hard part. I want you to grab a tiny part of your internal energy, and cycle the path it would have normally followed. Don’t let it transform.”
He nodded again, while I put my hands on his body, one on his chest, the other on his back, carefully exploring the movement. The tiny blob of energy started its movement from his upper belly, far slower than it would have than a punch, went to his lungs, then climbed to his right shoulder before moving down to his elbow, and arrived at his hand. From there, it reached to his hand. He made a fist.
The tiny bit of energy was released in the air, dissipating in an instant, leaving no visible imprint.
“Again,” I said, making him repeat the same action several times before adding a new command. “With a bigger piece of energy,” I said. “Try with one-fifth energy of your weakest punch.”
That had also shown nothing, making us repeat the action with larger pieces. When he used half the energy required by the first punch, I found my first clue. A resistance in the channels around his lungs, stalling the flow for a moment, forcing the energy off-path before it could reach, some of it already dispersing.
“Have you noticed the problem?” I asked.
“I felt a soft tingling in my chest,” he said. “But, it was something I could easily ignore.”
“No,” I responded. “We don’t want to push an injury like that.” His expression fell. “That doesn’t mean we can’t find a temporary solution,” I added.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes, but you have to be aware that there’s a risk. It might aggravate your injury even more.”
His expression steeled. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Fine,” I said. “Are you prepared for pain? I need to see you actually punch, using internal energy properly. Use the weakest one you can. I’ll disperse the leftover energy immediately.”
He nodded. I kept my hand on his back while his hand lashed. It was a sharp movement, but I paid little attention to the physical aspects, staying focused on the flow and the transformation of the internal energy.
Unlike what I expected, it didn’t start at his belly. A portion of the energy split from the larger mass, reaching his lung, settling for a fraction of a moment. There, the energy … gained a certain sharper quality, one that reminded me of a twisted variant of an elemental spell.
But, while the transformation was ongoing, some of the hardened energy got stuck on the blockage, and spilled into his body, likely the source of his pain. The rest continued to follow the same channels, reaching to his fingers to be released with a punch.
A touch to his chest dispersed the energy at the blockage before he started shouting. Despite the lingering pain, he turned to me, his expression a mixture of fear and hope.
“Can you control the amount of internal energy you put on a punch,” I asked. “I need to study the transformation process first.”
“I…” he muttered, disappointment filling him. “I don’t think I can.”
“Don’t worry, I have an idea,” I said. “How about if you try to exert control on the energy that you have on your belly, and don’t let it pulled by the punch. Let only a small amount move. It should be something you can do with your current capabilities.”
His disappointment faded, replaced by a sharp determination once again. A determination that hadn’t faded despite several painful mishaps.
But, when midnight arrived, he was able to successfully throw his underpowered punches without triggering his injury. “Perfect,” I called. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Can’t we continue?” he asked.
“No. You have already pushed yourself enough. Give yourself a chance to recover,” I said. He looked disappointed. “Don’t worry. We won’t be traveling tomorrow. We’ll stay here and practice.”
I could finally study how the internal energy transformed, which was a much better way to spend our time than our relatively leisure walk. Even the earlier attempts gave me some very good ideas to experiment with.
He went to sleep while I crossed my legs, letting myself lost in the latest discoveries, trying to put together a coherent plan…
