Robb knew this was the critical moment. During the previous body-tempering, the surge of energy had almost torn him apart.
But this time, he had mastered the essentials.
Taking a deep breath, he began to guide the violent energy with the distinctive rhythm of the Solar Breathing Technique.
At first the power was still hard to control, raging through his meridians like wildfire.
Yet as his breathing settled into the pattern, the fury gradually subsided and the flow started to trace a fixed path.
[Perfect guidance rhythm detected
Control level: High
Bonus attribute gained: Constitution + 0.2]
[Constitution: 1.2 → 1.4]
Just as the energy was about to be fully guided into the meridians, Robb sensed something strange.
Within his perception, the flowing power seemed to form a pattern—like a miniature sun, slowly revolving inside him.
It reminded him of the vision he'd seen during his first body-tempering, but this time the scene was clearer, and he could almost grasp the meaning within it.
"Focus," Andrey's voice turned solemn. "You should be seeing something now, shouldn't you?"
Indeed, in Robb's awareness, the solar wheel was more than a symbol; it embodied a law.
Its motion matched the rhythm of the Solar Breathing Technique perfectly.
[Special perception unlocked: Solar Rhythm
– Slightly increased understanding of yang-type energy
– Slightly faster cultivation speed with Solar Breathing Technique]
"So that's it…" Robb finally understood.
The technique was called Solar Breathing not merely because it guided sun-like power; it actually imitated the sun's own movement.
When the last thread of energy fused into his meridians, Robb slowly opened his eyes. He found Andrey studying him with a peculiar expression.
"You—" Andrey seemed to want to speak, hesitated, then asked, "Did you see the solar pattern?"
Robb nodded. "I saw it, and I felt the law behind it."
"Incredible." Andrey's face grew complicated. "I only gained that insight midway through the second stage. You're still on your second tempering and already—"
He didn't finish, but Robb grasped the implication: understanding the essence of a breathing art mattered far more than simply completing a tempering session.
…
On their way back to the dormitory block, Robb kept turning over the day's events in his mind.
That glowing star-grass had stayed alive only because, while handling it, he'd unknowingly used the Solar Breathing rhythm.
Each breath had set the herb's energy pulsing in a specific cadence.
"What are you thinking about?" Andrey's voice cut through his thoughts.
"I was wondering—" Robb stopped on the steps, recalling the vial of Artificial Star Dew, "—whether every supernatural power has its own 'rhythm'."
"What do you mean?"
"Star-grass keeps its vitality with a set tempo, and Scorching Oil only works if you match its rhythm with your breathing."
Robb explained. "So, mental force might also—"
Andrey's interest was piqued. "You're saying if we find the 'rhythm' of mental energy we could speed up meditation?"
"At least it's worth trying." Robb nodded. "Lady Elena said she'd teach me some basic potions today; maybe that will give a clue."
While speaking they reached the dormitory block.
The moment they stepped onto the landing, hurried footsteps rang out.
A lavishly dressed yet disheveled girl rushed past them, an overpowering perfume barely masking a trace of blood and sweat.
Robb recognized her: Emily, one of their fellow apprentice candidates—a self-proclaimed daughter of a ducal family.
Yet now this "duchess" looked like a lounge hostess: collar gaping, flawless makeup smeared, a faint crimson at the corner of her mouth.
Seeing Robb and Andrey, Emily blushed, covered part of her face with her hand, and hurried around the corridor corner.
"Another one," Andrey snorted with contempt. "That makes three this month who chose that path."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't know?" Andrey glanced at Robb's blank look. "Every trainee who passes the test is allowed to recruit servants. For those who've lost hope, pledging themselves to an apprentice ahead of time is… a way out."
His tone held a mocking edge.
"Emily went to Apprentice Marcus in Tower Three. That guy has a fetish for 'beautiful servant girls'—already collected five or six."
Robb finally understood. He noticed Andrey's face darken.
"Word is, Marcus and his twin brother have been experimenting with a curse that extracts mental force. One servant's already been turned into an imbecile."
He paused, voice low. "Even so, people keep flocking to him. In Black Mist Forest, simply surviving here is the greatest luxury for many."
Robb stayed silent. This was the world of sorcerers—where the strong held power of life and death over the weak, a hierarchy etched into the bone.
"But on another note," Andrey softened a little, "you've found a decent path. Lady Elena is strict, but at least—"
He didn't finish, but Robb understood: the old witch's fearsome looks hid one of the kindest hearts they'd encountered here.
"Speaking of which," Robb recalled the Artificial Star Dew and searched for something to say, "why do you think Hugo gave me such a precious potion?"
"Probably because he values your talent," Andrey shrugged. "In Black Mist Forest, no gesture of goodwill is random. If you advance one day, you'll be expected to repay it."
Every gift from fate already has its price tag hidden in the fine print.
Robb nodded. He was fully aware of the meaning behind that "gift."