The morning mist hung heavy in the air as Lin Feng stepped out of his room, his muscles still aching from the previous day's training. The sun had barely risen, and the world was still wrapped in the soft glow of early morning light. As always, the courtyard of Master Jian's humble dwelling was empty, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The faint smell of herbs from the nearby garden mixed with the fresh scent of dew, grounding Lin Feng in the simplicity of the world around him.
His mind was clouded, still wrestling with the words Master Jian had said the night before. The price of cultivation… the cost of power. It haunted him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. He had never been someone who desired power for its own sake, but the more he trained, the more it felt like the energy was calling to him, beckoning him to reach further, to push harder. And with every step, the hunger inside him grew.
Is this the price? Lin Feng thought, looking at his hands as if they were foreign to him. To feel this insatiable thirst for more?
A sudden cough broke his train of thought. He turned to see Master Jian standing at the edge of the courtyard, his posture as rigid and commanding as always. The old man's eyes were sharp, focused, as though he had been watching Lin Feng for some time.
"Good, you're awake," Master Jian said, his tone both curt and approving. "Today, you will face your first test."
Lin Feng blinked, surprised. "Test? What do you mean?"
Master Jian's expression didn't change. "You've been training here for weeks now, learning to harness spiritual energy and control the sword. But in this world, there's no room for theory. There's only practice. And practice is never without risk. Today, you'll face a real challenge. A test to see how well you've learned to defend yourself."
Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat. "A real challenge?"
Master Jian nodded, his eyes glinting with a touch of something that could almost be described as amusement. "I've arranged for a sparring match. Someone will test your abilities in combat."
Lin Feng's stomach tightened. While he had been making progress with his swordsmanship, the idea of facing someone in actual combat made his palms sweat. He had trained for weeks in the basics, but nothing could truly prepare him for the brutality of a real fight.
"But Master," Lin Feng said hesitantly, "what if I fail?"
Master Jian's gaze grew colder. "Failure is a part of the process. If you fear it, then you will never improve. The world is full of dangers, and there are no second chances. Either you adapt, or you perish. This is not a game, Lin Feng. It's life or death. Now, follow me."
Without another word, Master Jian turned and strode toward the eastern edge of the courtyard, where a set of wooden gates stood. Lin Feng, his heart still racing, followed him, his mind racing with doubts and questions. As they approached the gates, Lin Feng could feel his nerves bubbling to the surface. He had faced challenges before, but this… this was different.
Master Jian opened the gates with a flick of his wrist, revealing a small clearing beyond the walls of the courtyard. The area was wide and open, surrounded by tall trees, and at the center stood a tall, broad-shouldered man holding a sword. The man's features were hard, his eyes cold, and his posture relaxed, as though he were waiting for Lin Feng.
"This is your opponent," Master Jian said, gesturing to the man. "His name is Chen Zhen, a former disciple of this sect. He's strong, quick, and ruthless. His cultivation level is higher than yours, but don't let that discourage you. You'll learn more from this fight than you would from a hundred lessons."
Lin Feng swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on Chen Zhen. The man's mere presence was intimidating, and Lin Feng could feel the weight of the energy surrounding him. The aura of a seasoned fighter. Lin Feng's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he stepped forward.
"Ready yourself," Master Jian called out.
Without warning, Chen Zhen's eyes flicked to Lin Feng, and he grinned, a savage, predatory grin. "Let's see what you've got, boy."
Lin Feng's heart thudded in his chest. He stood tall, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He could feel the energy inside him, swirling, churning—like a beast waiting to break free. He had practiced, he had learned to control his movements, but now it was time to put everything to the test.
Chen Zhen struck first. He lunged forward with incredible speed, his sword a blur of steel. Lin Feng barely had time to react, but instinct took over. He sidestepped, his body moving before his mind could catch up. The sword's edge grazed his side, a sharp sting of pain, but Lin Feng didn't falter. He could feel the energy gathering within him, pulling at the edges of his consciousness, urging him to respond.
He swung his sword in retaliation, but Chen Zhen was already out of range, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. "You're too slow."
Lin Feng gritted his teeth, frustration rising. Focus. Don't rush. He steadied his breath, trying to tap into the energy inside him.
Chen Zhen moved again, this time a feint followed by a real strike. Lin Feng barely had time to react, but his body moved on its own, the sword dancing in his hand as he parried the blow. The clash of metal echoed in the clearing, and Lin Feng's breath came in sharp gasps.
I can do this.
The energy surged through him, a wild current that flowed into his muscles, sharpening his reflexes. He struck again, this time more decisively. Chen Zhen parried, but Lin Feng's strike was faster, landing with a sharp clang. The older man's grin faltered slightly, and Lin Feng could see the spark of surprise in his eyes.
"This is more like it," Chen Zhen muttered, his voice low.
But Lin Feng wasn't done. He could feel the energy inside him swirling, merging with his movements. His strikes were no longer random—they were precise, focused. He could almost feel the path of his blade before it even moved. He was becoming one with the sword, the energy, and the rhythm of the fight.
Chen Zhen, though surprised, adapted quickly. He stepped back, then launched forward with a powerful overhead strike that Lin Feng barely had time to block. The force of the blow knocked him off balance, sending him stumbling to the ground.
The crowd that had gathered—disciples from the sect, some of them watching curiously—let out a collective gasp. Lin Feng's breath was ragged as he pushed himself back to his feet, feeling the burn of exhaustion in his limbs. But he didn't back down.
Focus. Feel the energy. Let it flow.
He rose to his feet, his eyes locked on Chen Zhen, who was now circling him like a predator. Lin Feng wasn't sure what would happen next, but one thing was clear: he wasn't going to let fear control him. He was going to fight.
Chen Zhen struck again, but this time, Lin Feng was ready. With a swift motion, he parried the blow, then followed through with a counterattack. The clash of their swords filled the air, and in that moment, Lin Feng realized something—he had not only found his rhythm, but he had found the first step toward mastering himself.
The fight was far from over, but Lin Feng could feel a change within him. Something inside him was awakening, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
And in that moment, he knew that this was just the beginning.