Chapter 25: A Cultivation Technique Meant for No One
The rain had started by the time Lin Ma emerged from the underground chamber. It drizzled over the ancient roof tiles, whispering secrets the wind was too scared to say aloud.
He clutched the scroll tight to his chest.
Whatever was inside it had weight—not just physical, but spiritual. He could feel it tugging at him already, as though unseen threads had latched onto his fate the moment Elder Liu handed it over.
He didn't return to his quarters.
Instead, Lin Ma took shelter beneath the lotus gazebo by the rear courtyard—an abandoned place only visited by ghosts of former disciples. The perfect hiding spot.
He placed the scroll on the stone table, hands trembling. Wax seal unbroken. He stared at it like it might bite.
"Not all power is a blessing," Elder Liu's voice echoed in his mind.
"Some techniques were buried for a reason."
But curiosity was a stronger force than fear. And Lin Ma had learned that truth, once tasted, was impossible to unlearn.
With one slow breath, he broke the seal.
The parchment inside unfurled on its own—glowing softly with golden runes. His eyes struggled to keep up with the shifting characters, like they resisted being read by someone unworthy.
Then suddenly… stillness.
One phrase stared back at him, etched in scarlet ink:
"The Path of Dual Mirrors: Heaven Devours, Earth Remembers."
Beneath it, the technique revealed itself in fragments—insightful, dangerous, and utterly unique.
It wasn't a technique of brute force or elemental manipulation. It was one of reflection. Self-cultivation through facing one's truest, darkest thoughts. Each stage required the user to confront a version of themselves formed from guilt, failure, shame, or pride.
And defeat it.
Lin Ma's throat dried. This wasn't a path of cultivation. It was a path of reckoning.
He looked up as thunder cracked across the sky. Lightning illuminated the courtyard—and for a moment, he thought he saw someone standing by the trees.
A woman in white?
No. Gone.
Just the shadows playing tricks.
But Lin Ma was already on edge.
"Still alive, huh?"
A voice slithered from behind.
He turned. Yan Tong, the Sect Master's nephew, stepped forward, arms crossed, face twisted with smugness.
"People are whispering," Yan said. "First you're sweeping floors, then you vanish for hours. Now you're hiding in forbidden corners with ancient scrolls?"
Lin Ma said nothing.
He wasn't the same man who once bowed to bullies and stayed silent.
Yan took another step forward. "I think it's time we reminded everyone of their place. You were a city dog who lost everything. Don't think a robe and cheap talismans make you one of us."
Lin Ma exhaled slowly. "And what do you think makes someone 'one of you,' huh? Bloodline? Bragging rights? Or the fact that your father bribed half the Elders to get you here?"
Yan's smile faded.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me."
In a blink, Yan's hand shot out, summoning a small orb of lightning. It crackled with raw energy—enough to cause pain, not kill. Meant to humiliate.
But Lin Ma didn't flinch.
He closed his eyes, drawing from the scroll's early meditative passage. It spoke of balance—of letting the false self strike before the true self awakens.
As Yan launched the orb, Lin Ma moved—fast, fluid, deliberate. A step to the side, a twist of the wrist. The orb missed him by inches, slamming into the gazebo pillar and splintering it.
"You dodged?" Yan blinked.
"You telegraphed it," Lin Ma said coldly. "Your posture is sloppy. Your qi is unstable. You fight like someone who's never had to bleed."
That hit harder than any strike.
Yan's face twisted in rage, and he lunged.
But Lin Ma had already moved—using a footwork technique he'd seen in the scroll, barely understood but instinctively mimicked. He circled Yan like a shadow, catching him off balance and sweeping his legs from under him.
With a thud, Yan crashed to the ground.
The rain washed over both of them.
Lin Ma didn't follow up with a strike.
He just stood there, soaked and breathless.
"You're lucky," Lin Ma muttered. "If I were like you, I'd have finished this the moment you insulted me."
Yan staggered up, soaked and humiliated.
"You… you'll regret this."
"No," Lin Ma said. "You will, when everyone realizes you lost to the lowest disciple in the sect."
As Yan stumbled off, pride shattered, Lin Ma finally allowed himself to breathe.
His pulse was still racing. His hands were still shaking.
But in that moment—he didn't feel small anymore.
The scroll was still glowing behind him.
Its first lesson wasn't written in words.
It was in action.
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End of Chapter 25