The ember had been real. Fleeting, fragile, but real. I could still feel the ghost of its warmth in my core, the first sign of something greater. But one flicker was not enough. If I wanted to master qi, I had to take hold of it, to weave it into something lasting.
Morning arrived with a crisp chill. Elder Sun was waiting for me by the stream, as he always was. Today, though, there was something different in his eyes—a quiet expectation.
"Sit."
I did as instructed, crossing my legs on the riverbank. The ground was cold beneath me, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply, searching for that ember again.
"Not with force," Elder Sun said. "Let it come to you."
I adjusted my breath, slowing it, guiding it instead of demanding. Minutes passed. Then longer. The ember did not return.
Doubt crept in. Had I only imagined it the night before? Was it a trick of my exhausted mind? The frustration from yesterday bubbled up again, and my fingers clenched into fists.
Elder Sun sighed. "You are gripping too tightly."
I opened my eyes, turning to him with a frown. "I'm not gripping anything."
He tapped a finger against my chest. "Here. You hold onto expectations as if they are a blade's hilt. Qi does not work like a sword. You cannot simply grasp it and swing."
I exhaled slowly. He was right. I had spent my whole life mastering strength, control. This was something else. Something I did not yet understand.
Closing my eyes again, I let go. I let my breath move naturally, steady and unforced. The sounds of the river filled my mind—the flow of water over stone, the distant rustle of wind through trees. I stopped seeking qi and instead let myself exist within it.
Then, a spark.
Faint, but there. The ember flickered once more, no longer as elusive as before. I did not chase it this time. I let it settle.
The warmth grew, coiling in my center. It was still small, still delicate, but it was no longer just an ember. It was the beginning of a flame.
Elder Sun's voice was softer now. "Good. Now, guide it."
I focused on the warmth, not forcing, but nudging it gently, as if coaxing a candle's flame to dance in the wind. I tried to push it outward, to spread it through my limbs, but the moment I applied too much will, it vanished again.
My breath hitched. Gone. Just like that.
Elder Sun chuckled. "You will fail a hundred times before you succeed once. That is the nature of cultivation."
I opened my eyes and frowned. "How long did it take you?"
His expression was unreadable. "Long enough."
That was not an answer. But perhaps it was the only one that mattered.
He gestured for me to stand. "Enough for now. Your body must learn alongside your mind."
I rose, stretching my legs. My training with the sword had not been set aside, nor would it ever be. But now, I understood that strength alone would never be enough.
For hours, I moved through my forms in the river, my sword carving through the air in steady arcs. The water pushed against me, as relentless as ever, but I no longer fought it blindly. I adjusted. I flowed. And when exhaustion set in, I sat again, breathing, searching for the ember.
Again. Again.
By the time the sun dipped below the peaks, I had not yet succeeded in guiding my qi through my body. But the ember remained. That, at least, was progress.
Slow. Steady.
I would find the flame.