The next morning, for the first time in years, Xiao Yue woke before dawn—not from anxiety, but from an electrifying mix of dread and anticipation. The "consulting proposal" had sounded like a madman's jargon the previous evening, but the feeling of Qi flowing unobstructed through her arm and the sharp shiink of her sword still echoed in her bones. It was real. The result was measurable. And her consultant was a servant.
She dressed in a clean practice uniform and waited in the courtyard, feeling the cool dew on her bare feet. Just as the sun began to tint the horizon pink, Kenji appeared on the path, punctual as death. He carried her breakfast tray, his face as expressionless as ever.
He set the tray on the stone table. Xiao Yue, anxious, was already moving toward the center of the courtyard, gripping her practice sword.
"Do we continue where we left off yesterday?" she asked, her voice vibrating with excitement. "Do we correct the second stance? Or maybe the third? I feel like I could link them together right now."
Kenji looked at her and shook his head, a short, definitive motion. "Negative. Your performance yesterday was a successful proof of concept, nothing more. Attempting to build on that foundation now would be like installing high-end software on a computer with a corrupt, virus-riddled operating system. A catastrophic mid-term failure."
Xiao Yue blinked. "Operating… system? Viruses?"
"Bad habits," he clarified, his monotone unchanging. "Years of incorrect execution have created faulty neural and Qi pathways. Those are your 'viruses.' Before we install any new 'software'—that is, sword techniques—we must format the hard drive and reinstall the operating system from scratch."
She stared at him in utter bewilderment. "And how… how do you 'format' a person?"
Kenji pointed to a meditation cushion she rarely used, abandoned near the pavilion's porch. "Sit," he ordered.
Xiao Yue's excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. "Sit? But I just unlocked my potential! I need to practice, to move!"
"Your concept of 'practice' is biased toward mindless repetition. That is what caused the initial problem," he replied. "The foundation of all cultivation is not movement, but control. And control doesn't start with the sword; it starts here." He touched his chest. "And here." He raised a finger to his forehead. "Breathing and focus. That is the core infrastructure. Yours is in ruins. You will not touch the sword today. Nor tomorrow. Possibly not even next week."
Xiao Yue's jaw dropped. Not even next week! This was torture! It was like giving a starving person a bite of an exquisite delicacy, only to condemn them to a month of bland porridge.
"That's ridiculous!" she protested. "I'm going to lose my momentum!"
"Momentum built on a flawed foundation is an illusion that leads to stagnation. Please sit. We are losing session time, which reduces program efficiency."
Grumbling, feeling completely ripped off, Xiao Yue sat on the cushion. She crossed her legs in the standard lotus position she had been taught as a child.
"Incorrect," Kenji said instantly. He approached and, with the tips of two fingers, tapped her lightly on the back. "Your spine is misaligned by three degrees. It's creating tension in your solar plexus, restricting the diaphragm." With another touch, he adjusted the tilt of her pelvis. "The weight must rest here, on the sit bones, not the tailbone. This frees the central energy channel."
For the next hour, Xiao Yue endured the most excruciating and humiliating training of her life. There were no flashes of Qi, no whistles of swords. Only Kenji's constant, clinical instructions.
"Your breathing is shallow and irregular. Inhale through your nose for four seconds. Feel the air fill the bottom of your lungs first. Hold for seven seconds. Let the Qi settle and saturate. Now, exhale through your mouth for eight seconds, contracting your abdomen to expel all stale air. Repeat."
She repeated. Over and over.
"You are frowning. Tension in the forehead interferes with the Sea of Consciousness. Relax your facial muscles."
"Your shoulders are creeping up toward your ears. It's a habit from your sword stance. Let them drop. They are anchors, not wings."
"I perceive a fluctuation in your heart rate. Your mind is wandering. Focus on the sound of your own breath. It is the only data that matters right now."
Xiao Yue's inner monologue was a storm: This is absurd! More boring than listening to the Elders recite the clan's genealogy for three days! I could be practicing! I could be feeling that flow of power again! Instead, I'm here, sitting like a statue, while a servant tells me how to breathe. Breathe! I've been breathing my whole life!
But, despite her mental rebellion, she obeyed. And as the hour drew to a close, something strange began to happen. The noise in her mind, the constant hum of frustration and impatience, began to subside. The sensation of her Qi, which was usually like a swarm of angry insects under her skin, started to settle. It became less a swarm and more a pool of deep, still water. She could feel her own energy with a clarity she had never experienced before. It was… quiet. But it was a silence full of potential.
When Kenji finally said, "End of base platform stabilization session. You may rise," Xiao Yue opened her eyes, and the world seemed a little sharper, the colors a little brighter. She felt… serene. And beneath that serenity, she felt her power, calm and waiting. It was a sensation a hundred times more profound and real than the fleeting surge of power from the day before.
She stood up, looking at Kenji in a new light. The tedium had produced an undeniable result. The madman had a method.
The second phase of his "consulting" began during lunch. Kenji arrived with the tray, but instead of retreating, he remained standing by the table as she sat.
"Young Lady, we must discuss your resource acquisition and consumable asset management strategy," he said, his face completely serious.
Xiao Yue, who was about to devour a steamed bun, paused. "My… what strategy?"
Kenji gestured to the tray. The food was typical for the inner courtyards: rice, boiled vegetables, some steamed fish, and, on a small dish, a single, unappetizing, brownish-green pill. It was a low-grade "Spirit Gathering Pill," the only supplement her status afforded her.
"Your nutritional intake and supplement consumption schedule are suboptimal," Kenji explained. "They are hindering your progress." He picked up the pill with two fingers and sniffed it delicately, like a sommelier evaluating a wine. His verdict was silent but brutal: a low-grade asset composed mostly of common filler herbs and a starch binder, with barely a trace of the "Clear Spirit Herb" it was named for. Marginal efficacy, at best. "But even a low-performing asset can be maximized if used correctly."
"Starting today," he continued, returning the pill to the dish, "you will consume this pill thirty minutes before our morning training session, with a glass of warm water."
Xiao Yue frowned. "I've always been told to take them after training, to replenish spent energy."
"Defective logic," Kenji replied. "That is for replenishers. You are in a growth phase. Consuming the pill before meditation primes the system. The meditative state we induce increases blood flow to the energy centers and slows non-essential digestive processes. This can increase the absorption rate of the pill's active components by an estimated 15-20%. It is an efficiency gain at no additional cost. Resource optimization is key in a startup with limited funding, such as ours."
Xiao Yue's head was spinning. Startup? Limited funding? He spoke of her life as if it were a small, struggling business on the verge of bankruptcy. And, somehow, she felt he wasn't wrong.
"Furthermore, your food consumption order is incorrect," he added, pointing to the bun in her hand. "Prioritize the vegetables and the fish protein. Consume the fast-digesting carbohydrates, like the rice and bread, at the end of the meal. This method stabilizes blood sugar levels, preventing the insulin spike and subsequent energy crash. A stable energy state is crucial for passive Qi accumulation throughout the day."
Xiao Yue looked from her bun to Kenji's serious face and back to the bun. No master, no healer, no sage had ever spoken to her about insulin or the order in which she should eat her lunch. It was the most ridiculous and yet strangely logical thing she had ever heard. With a sigh that was half exasperation and half surrender, she put down the bun and picked up her chopsticks to start on the fish.
The following days settled into a new, strange routine. Every morning, Xiao Yue would take her mediocre pill as if it were a precious elixir, thirty minutes before Kenji arrived. Then, she would endure an hour of tedious "restructuring." Sometimes it was meditation. Other times, Kenji would force her to hold a single, basic sword stance for an entire hour, circling her like a wolf, making infinitesimal corrections.
"Your weight has shifted 2% toward your heel. Correct it."
"You are holding your breath. Release it. The flow of Qi follows the breath. If the breath stops, the Qi stagnates."
"I detect tension in your jaw. Are you thinking of past failures or future successes? Both are inefficient projections. Focus on the here and now. On the balance of this precise moment."
It was mentally exhausting. It was physically monotonous. But the results… the results were undeniable. Her control was improving at a rate that should have been impossible. She began to feel the Qi within her not as an alien force, but as a part of herself, like an arm or a leg she could move at will. She could guide it to her little finger, make it swirl in her palm, or gather it in her dantian and feel its warm, quiet strength. She was building, from the foundation up, a house that had always been in ruins.
After two weeks of this rigorous and boring "infrastructure tune-up," Xiao Yue felt like a caged tiger. The power was building inside her, cleaner and more potent than ever, and she had nowhere to release it.
One afternoon, Kenji arrived as usual, but instead of pointing to the meditation cushion, he stood looking at the center of the courtyard.
"Today, we will conduct an integrated system diagnostic test," he announced.
Xiao Yue's heart leaped. "The sword?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Kenji nodded. "Pick it up. Execute the first three forms of the Silver Cloud Style: 'The Crane Awakens,' 'The Pond Reflects the Moon,' and 'The Serpent Strikes from the Grass.' No pause between them. I want to measure the fluidity of the transition and the energy consumption in a compound movement sequence."
With hands trembling in anticipation, Xiao Yue picked up her wooden sword. It felt different in her grip: lighter, more alive. She settled into the initial stance, but this time, she didn't have to think about it. Her body found its balance naturally. Her knees were bent, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing deep and calm.
She took one last inhale, and then she began.
It was as if someone else had taken over her body.
"The Crane Awakens" wasn't a movement; it was an exhalation. The Qi flowed effortlessly, the sword singing through the air with a crisp sound. But instead of stopping, her body spun and transitioned with a grace she had never possessed into "The Pond Reflects the Moon." The defensive move was like silk; the sword drew a perfect arc that seemed to absorb the sunlight. Before, this transition would have made her stumble. Now, it was as natural as breathing.
And then, the strike. "The Serpent Strikes from the Grass." All the quiet power she had accumulated over two weeks of meditation concentrated. It surged from her dantian, shot up her straightened spine, and blasted through her relaxed arm.
CRACK!
The tip of the wooden sword struck a thick bamboo stalk at the edge of the courtyard, one she had never intended to touch. The stalk, as thick as her wrist, split with an explosive snap and flew through the air before clattering to the ground.
Xiao Yue stood frozen in the final pose, her chest heaving, not from exhaustion, but from a surge of adrenaline and pure power. She had executed three forms, a sequence that would have previously left her breathless and staggering, and she barely felt like she had begun. She looked at the broken stalk, then her sword, and finally at Kenji.
Her golden eyes shone with a fierce light, a light he hadn't seen before. It wasn't anger, it wasn't desperation, it wasn't surprise. It was power. Real, conscious power.
Kenji observed her for a moment, his face, as always, impassive. He made a small note on a piece of parchment he had pulled from his sleeve.
"Diagnostic complete," he said, his voice as flat as if he had just measured the temperature. "Core infrastructure is stable. Transitions between compound movements operate at 85% efficiency, exceeding projections. Output impact has exceeded expected parameters by 30%. Satisfactory progress."
He put his parchment away.
"Tomorrow, we will begin Phase 1.2: Sequence Expansion and Stamina Optimization. I will bring you your dinner."
He turned, bowed politely, and started back down the path.
Xiao Yue was left alone in the middle of the courtyard, her heart hammering, the buzz of power vibrating in her veins. She had just unintentionally broken a bamboo stalk with a simple practice move. She had just tasted the true flavor of cultivation. And her incredibly strange, genius "consultant"... had just checked a box on his to-do list.
A bubbly laugh, full of pure joy and a hint of madness, escaped her lips. This was the beginning. The real beginning. And she couldn't wait to find out what the hell "Phase 1.2" meant.