《Heavenly Inordinance [Xianxia LitRPG Progression]》


 Chapter 1: Varian, the sweeper

    As Varian swept the floor, he whistled a tune in rhythm with the sweeping motion of his broom bristles brushing against the coarse stone. He sighed at the sight of the courtyard before him, a mosaic of leaves in every shade and color covering the ground.


    Why must I always be assigned this task? It¡¯s annoying enough usually, let alone when the trees start shedding their leaves like a snake sheds its skin¡ªmessily.


    This didn¡¯t stop the young man from dutifully carrying out his task; after all, this life was all Varian had ever known. He had been just a babe when the outer sect custodian found him, weeping alone by the roadside between Whispering Wind Village and the Soaring Swallow Sect.


    Varian chuckled to himself. The old man often joked that Varian might be of noble birth¡ªperhaps an abandoned bastard prince of the local kingdom. He always made sure to emphasize, ''If you weren¡¯t of noble birth, how could your swaddling cloth have possibly been left untouched by nature?'' Varian knew better, though. His parents were likely commoners, unable to care for a newborn, especially with the chill of winter encroaching. Besides, noble parents wouldn¡¯t have left him to deal with his ailment, likely a consequence of being exposed to nature¡¯s ¡°gift.¡±


    As the sun began to peek beyond the curtain of the horizon, Varian slowly wrapped up his task, hoping to finish well before anyone else arrived. However, it was not to be. A wave of lightheadedness struck him, leaving him wobbling and grasping desperately for anything to steady himself. In his frantic scramble, Varian reached for his broom¡ªand promptly fell flat on his back. Now he lay sprawled on the floor, a massive pain throbbing in his skull, as if it sought to expand it.


    How long has it been since the last time? Perhaps a moon cycle, or two?


    Varian had never been a healthy child, plagued by occasional bouts of lightheadedness that had only grown stronger as he aged, though they became less frequent. Initially, his old man thought it was simply the mad screeching that children so often tend to do, but with due time he¡¯d learned it was more than that. As Varian grew older, his bouts of lightheadedness and pain had reduced in frequency but had become far more severe, a trade-off he was not content with.


    Minutes spent lying on the floor stretched into an hour before Varian finally felt well enough to rise and finish his task. He resumed sweeping with great haste and managed to complete the work, though much later than he had originally hoped. Still, the sun was only now fully unveiling its splendor, and Varian paused to relish the gentle warmth of its beams as they tickled his skin.


    With his task for the day finished well before most servants would even think to rise, Varian made his way to the creek south of the servant quarters. It lay beyond the walls, nestled between their quarters and the towering walls of the sect proper. Varian removed his sturdy sandals and slipped out of his grey robes with white cuffs. He paused to gaze at his reflection in the creek¡ªa young man with black hair neatly tied in a bun and piercing brown, almost black, eyes staring back at him. He undid the bun and let his long hair hang loose.


    Varian lowered himself into the creek, his body sinking beneath the cool water as a sense of peace washed over him. His worries dissolved, along with any lingering thoughts of the pain that had earlier wracked his body. He lay still, savoring the sensation of the flowing water cleansing him of dirt and weariness. But all good moments must come to an end, and eventually, Varian rose from the creek and let the sun dry his skin.


    The young man took some time to gather his hair into a neat bun, a habit he¡¯d developed ever since it had grown too long to manage easily. Once dressed again, Varian made his way to the central servants¡¯ quarters. Walls of polished wood greeted him, their scent soothing Varian¡¯s mind as he walked past the oaken gates. If only the walls weren¡¯t painted that sickening shade of white, Varian thought to himself.


    Soon, Varian stepped into the mess hall, the chatter and laughter of fellow servant disciples filling the air, subdued as it may be due to the still early time of day. His eyes scanned the room, as if searching for someone. Spotting his all-too-rambunctious friends, he served himself a bowl of vegetable soup before making his way to the corner where they sat.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The first to notice him was a lanky young man, his sunken eyes betraying just how much his body protested being up this early. ¡°How come you always look so alive this early in the morning?! Heavens above, I feel like I could sleep for hours more,¡± Arthur declared, tucking his long brown hair behind his ears lazily.


    ¡°Well, Arty, maybe if you didn¡¯t spend your evenings whining about your heavy workload and just went to bed, you¡¯d feel better,¡± Varian replied with a chuckle, patting his friend on the shoulder.


    At this point, the others at the table let their conversation pause long enough to acknowledge Varian¡¯s arrival. ¡°You know how Arthur is, Varian. He complains just for the sake of it! How could anyone hope to reach the heights of cultivation with that lackluster attitude?¡± William teased, his broad frame and black buzz cut giving him an almost intimidating presence.


    Arthur shot him a fierce glare but couldn¡¯t hold it for long, and soon both broke out into laughter. The last member of their ragtag group chimed in with a smirk. ¡°They¡¯re not wrong, Arthur. If you were more diligent, maybe you wouldn¡¯t lose to William every time you spar,¡± Ren said, his tone dripping with mockery.


    Arthur scoffed. ¡°That doesn¡¯t stop you from losing to all of us every time, does it now, little Ren?¡± Ren wasn¡¯t as big as the rest of the group, which meant he had yet to win against any of the others during their regular sparring matches. For a moment, it looked like he was about to fire back, but he eventually shook his head and smiled instead. ¡°Hey, let¡¯s not get too frustrated now, guys. We¡¯ll be stuck together for a long time once we are cultivators¡ªbetter get used to being amicable,¡± Varian said, half-joking.


    ¡°Speaking of cultivation, what aptitude do you think we¡¯ll end up with?¡± Ren asked nervously.


    The rest of the group fell silent at his question, the weight of it settling over them. They all knew the odds weren¡¯t in their favor¡ªspiritual roots were rare, and the likelihood of all of them possessing one was slim.


    Upon hearing this, Varian¡¯s thoughts drifted back to his old man¡¯s words:


    ''Becoming a cultivator is something every young man and woman strives for. To claim immortality from the jaws of the Heavens themselves and have your tales regaled for all eternity¡ªit¡¯s a prospect hard to ignore; I know that. But not everyone can be a cultivator. It requires an aptitude, one determined by how easily your body can absorb Qi.


    Qi exists all around us¡ªit¡¯s the energy that flows through everyone and everything. But absorbing more than what your body naturally holds, Varian, requires talent. It¡¯s not easy to go against the natural order. Nothing comes for free, after all.''


    The question went unanswered, each of the four young men lost in their own thoughts, all of them occupied with the same question. The mood had shifted, the earlier lightheartedness replaced by a more somber atmosphere.


    Being a servant disciple was no simple task. Tasks needed to be fulfilled, and without sufficient energy in their body to do so, said tasks cannot be done.Despite the weight of their thoughts, the group ate with gusto, finishing their meal in companionable silence.


    ¡°Well, that was fun, guys,¡± William said despondently. ¡°But I¡¯m on cesspool cleaning duty today.¡±


    Varian chuckled. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re a big fellow; I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll scrub like no other servant or disciple possibly could.¡± William raised an eyebrow at him, holding back a laugh.


    Varian decided it was time to take his leave, knowing he still had a busy day ahead of him. ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving too then; I¡¯m already done with sweeping the courtyard, so I have the rest of the day off,¡± he said while smirking at Arthur. Arthur glared jokingly but did not respond, simply waving him goodbye. Ren nodded at his friend good-naturedly, lost in his own thoughts.


    Varian stopped at the line to hand in his bowl, aware that even the servants in charge of meals would be tired at this early hour. A few minutes passed before it was his turn to hand in his bowl.


    ¡°Oh, I do love it when people eat my food so lovingly,¡± Lady Wang said as she took his bowl out of his hands. Varian knew the lady loved it when they left nothing in their bowl. And so, despite him not particularly loving everything in his soup, he made sure to finish his meal in its entirety for her.


    ¡°Well, one cannot help but finish their food lovingly when it¡¯s so delicious,¡± Varian added exaggeratedly. Lady Wang chuckled at that, whacking him on the head with a ladle. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a sweet talker? Now, this old lady still has plenty she needs to do.¡± She shooed him away.


    Varian shook his head as he exited the mess hall, making his way toward the courtyard where the servant disciples trained. He stretched his arms before proceeding to start jogging at a brisk pace. Better be warmed up now, so I don¡¯t have to warm up there!

 Chapter 2: Bad Apple

    Varian soon arrived at the training hall, panting, the sharp tang of sweat hanging heavy in the air. The servant disciple quarters were quite expansive, so even at a steady pace, it had taken him several minutes to get there.


    He surveyed the training hall, a place he¡¯d grown increasingly familiar with in recent days. Straw dummies stood in varying states of damage and disrepair. Wooden weapons lay haphazardly scattered across the floor, their arrangement barely resembling order. Varian grinned to himself: If my body grows stronger, perhaps my headaches won¡¯t trouble me as much.


    Varian¡¯s eyes swept over the scattered wooden weapons, searching for one in particular. There. He strode to the pile and retrieved his weapon of choice¡ªa long staff. Running his hands over its polished surface, he felt the smooth wood glide beneath his fingertips, the familiar weight resting comfortably in his grasp.


    Arthur always mocked Varian for choosing the staff, but Varian saw it as a weapon of both elegance and effectiveness. It was his old man who first recommended it. At the time, Varian had been far more enthralled by the sword¡ªor perhaps the saber¡ªbut eventually, he heeded his foster father¡¯s advice.


    ''Varian,'' the old man had said, ''the stories may regale you with tales of mighty swordsmen and women, cultivators capable of splitting mountains with a single swing of their sword. But that¡¯s because it sounds grand. True strength lies in simplicity¡ªa weapon that¡¯s easy to pick up, yet difficult to master. I¡¯ve always favored the long staff myself.''


    Varian had been skeptical, even disbelieving, until the day his foster father showed him firsthand just how formidable a staff could be.


    He shook his head, clearing away the distracting thoughts. He¡¯d see the old man soon enough; no need to get lost in memories now.


    Varian selected one of the three less battered dummies and began practicing his basic staff forms. The sect referred to them as the Foundational Swallow Sweeping Strikes. To Varian, they were just basic staff maneuvers¡ªthough he¡¯d never say that aloud. Supposedly, the true strength of Martial Skills could only be fully realized by Qi wielders, cultivators.


    He pushed aside those needless thoughts. Slowly, deeply, he breathed in. Left hand in position, right hand just above it with only a slight gap. Varian began spinning the staff, easing his wrists into motion. Gradually, he picked up speed, feeling his body relax as his wrists loosened. It was a classic warm-up, one his foster father had drilled into him.


    The old man would always insist, ¡®You may feel young and spry now, but the vicissitudes of time catch up to us all. Humor this old man, won¡¯t you?¡¯


    Fully warmed up, Varian shifted into a sturdier stance, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Tightening his grip on the staff, he lifted it high before bringing it down on the dummy with force. From the vertical chop, he flowed into a low sweep, the staff angling toward where a person¡¯s knees would be. The satisfying thunk of wood against straw echoed in the hall.


    Stepping back, Varian thrust the staff into the dummy¡¯s chest¡ªonce, then twice. As he pulled back from the second thrust, he used the momentum to deliver a sharp horizontal strike to the dummy¡¯s neck.


    Varian paused to catch his breath before repeating the maneuver a handful of times. With each repetition, he made subtle adjustments: tightening his stance during a chop, adding more force to the low sweep. Not every change was an improvement, but after enough repetitions, he could feel a faint difference between his first and last set, if just barely.


    He took a moment to collect his breath once more, sitting on the solid wooden floor. The dummy was in worse shape than before, but Varian knew that once winter passed, the Outer Sect would send someone to install new dummies, and the servants would replace the old weapons with fresh ones.


    As Varian sat there, he soon heard faint voices approaching, accompanied by the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. A scowl crossed his face as he recognized the voices, knowing exactly who was coming.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t the custodian¡¯s pampered sick dog. Shouldn¡¯t you be nursing your headache or something?¡± Lucas sneered at Varian.


    ¡°And yet, for all your bluster, you don¡¯t feel confident showing up without your goon?¡± Varian shot back mockingly, eyes narrowing as he stared at the hulking teenager standing beside Lucas.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a goon,¡± Rufus grumbled, his voice deep and heavy. ¡°Lucas and I are friends, and it¡¯d do you some good to mind your tongue.¡±


    Lucas was a fair-skinned young man with long blonde hair that waved behind him as he moved. The reason for their enmity was simple. Lucas disliked Varian for who he was, and he made sure to show it¡ªbeating him in every spar back when Varian¡¯s body was frailer. But with his aches now less frequent, Varian could finally train properly. And if nothing else, he was diligent. Soon, their spars were no longer one-sided, and eventually, Varian even managed to win one.


    Lucas, cowardly as he was, stopped accepting Varian''s sparring attempts the moment he''d lost even one. Rufus, on the other hand, had a frame reminiscent of a bear, a bald head, and a mean scowl. He was the strongest servant disciple in their batch, the only one capable of beating William in sparring. The two of them always went at it whenever they fought.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t Lucas only ever bring you along when he wants you to intimidate someone?¡± Varian spat venomously. He knew Rufus was being used, yet it seemed Rufus would remain as recalcitrant as ever.


    ¡°I dare you to say that again, Varian,¡± Rufus grunted, shutting down the conversation.


    Varian knew pursuing it further would be pointless. Instead, he turned back to Lucas and asked, ¡°So what is it you want, exactly, Lucas?¡±


    Lucas stared at Varian intently, as though weighing something in his mind. ¡°You know, I was wondering if you¡¯d like to spar tonight,¡± he said, his calm tone grating on Varian¡¯s nerves.


    Varian squinted at him, sensing there was more to this than a simple challenge. Why would Lucas, after avoiding him for two years, suddenly want to spar? Tentatively, Varian accepted, ready to face whatever challenge Lucas might have in store.


    ¡°Sure, Lucas. Is there anything else, or would you mind if I left now?¡± Varian said, his tone carefully measured.


    Lucas shook his head, and Varian took that as his cue to leave. His good mood had soured, his mind swimming with thoughts of what exactly Lucas had planned for him.


    Varian tried to shake off those thoughts, but they lingered, following him well past the training hall.


    To cool his mind and temper, Varian decided to head back to the creek. The urge to wash the sweat from his body was reason enough, but the quiet water would help him find peace again.


    With a steady breath, Varian pushed past the heavy oaken doors once more, the cool air filling his lungs.


    Varian took his time, the fatigue from his lightheadedness absent this time. He appreciated the nature around him¡ªthe grand trees standing tall like silent sentinels, their trunks as straight as rods. Bushes and shrubs swayed with the wind, their movement almost hypnotic.


    What was notably absent, however, was the presence of animals. Of course, with winter approaching, most mundane creatures would be preparing for the cold. Only spirit beasts would dare defy nature¡¯s call for rest¡ªbut there would be no spirit beasts here. The sect saw to that.


    Upon arriving at the creek, Varian prepared to wash himself once more. He let his body sway gently in the water, the occasional leaf falling on him being the only sensation besides the cool stream. His thoughts began to drift, just like his body, and he allowed himself to relax, knowing he needed this moment of respite.


    Heavens, this is comfortable. I could spend all day just lying here.


    Eventually, Varian decided to leave the creek and dress himself again. However, instead of returning to the quarters, he chose to sit on a boulder that overlooked the creek. He breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, and focused on clearing his mind. One thing that all servant disciples of the Soaring Swallow Sect were taught was how to meditate like proper cultivators. Supposedly, it was easier to sense Qi when one cleared their mind of distractions.


    Not that he would know. People could only begin to sense Qi after living through 16 cycles of nature. Even then, disciples were forbidden from attempting to absorb Qi, even if they could sense it. Trying to absorb Qi without the proper Cultivation Manual was a death sentence. Supposedly, more than 90 out of 100 mortals who tried that would die, and that¡¯s among those with a functioning spirit root. Without one, there was no affinity, and one would be cursed to remain a mortal forever.


    Varian shivered at the thought. If all the effort he¡¯d put into training turned out to be for nothing¡­ No. He refused to entertain that notion.


    And so, Varian let his thoughts quiet as he stilled his breath, allowing calm to overtake him. For now, at least, his companions would be the winds flowing around him and the water lapping beneath him.

 Chapter 3: Preparation

    By the time Varian finished, the sun¡¯s glow had softened to an amber hue. Rising slowly, his body readjusted to movement. ¡°I needed that,¡± he murmured to himself.


    Varian made his way back to the servants'' quarters, wondering if his comrades had finished their chores for the day. I hope William washes himself too. I don¡¯t want to smell whatever he had to clean out of the cesspool, Varian thought, scrunching his nose at the idea.


    Sweet as William was, his concept of hygiene left much to be desired. Still, as Varian passed through the heavy gates once more, his focus shifted to the prospect of their evening meal, and he headed toward the mess hall.


    As Varian¡¯s thoughts were occupied with tonight¡¯s spar, he didn¡¯t even notice when Ren started calling out to him.


    ¡°Varian! Hey, Varian? Are you okay, man?¡± Ren asked, his voice tinged with concern.


    Varian turned to his friend, offering an apologetic smile. ¡°Sorry, Ren. I was lost in thought,¡± he said.


    Ren opened his mouth to speak, but Varian raised a hand, cutting him off. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later, when we¡¯re all together. The others should hear this too,¡± he added, his tone resolute.


    Ren gave Varian a curious look but eventually shrugged it off, falling into step beside him. The silence between them settled naturally, like a comforting blanket draped over their shoulders. Together, they walked in quiet companionship toward the mess hall.


    Eventually, they arrived at the mess hall, spotting Arthur slumped in their usual corner, teetering on the edge of sleep. The sight drew a quiet chuckle from both young men before they made their way to serve themselves bowls of vegetable soup¡ªthe same one from the morning. Thankfully, the extra hours of simmering had worked their magic, enriching the flavors and giving the soup a heartier taste.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fall asleep just yet, Arty. I¡¯ve got some important news to share with you all,¡± Varian said as he settled himself on the floor, crossing his legs and letting the warmth of the bowl seep into his chilled body.


    Arthur jolted upright at the remark, his drowsiness replaced with concern. ¡°What happened? Is it good news? Or... did something bad happen? Another bout of your... aches?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with worry.


    Varian blinked at Arthur¡¯s question, the memory of the morning already feeling like a distant blur. ¡°Actually, it did happen. Worst one yet,¡± he admitted, his voice steady despite the weight of the revelation. ¡°But that¡¯s not what I wanted to talk about. Let¡¯s wait for Will and just eat for now. I¡¯d rather not lose my appetite before I¡¯ve even started.¡±


    Ren and Arthur both grimaced at that, exchanging brief glances before focusing on their bowls with renewed determination. For the second time that day, they ate with rapt attention, though this time for entirely different reasons.


    Arthur finished first, letting out a loud burp that echoed through the mess hall. It drew a few sharp glares from nearby servants and servant disciples alike, though none carried much genuine ire.


    Varian finished soon after, with Ren following not long behind. Once their bowls were empty, the three young men lingered in their corner, filling the time with lighthearted chatter about their day. Varian, however, was careful to keep his activities vague, which didn¡¯t escape the notice of Arthur and Ren. The two exchanged knowing glances, silently acknowledging that whatever Varian wanted to share later likely tied to his mysterious day.


    Arthur, it turned out, had been assigned to laundry duty, grumbling about the seemingly endless piles of robes and the indignity of scrubbing sandals. Ren, by contrast, described his day with less complaint, detailing how he had spent hours harvesting all manner of plants and vegetables, destined for either the kitchen or the apothecary.


    While the chores assigned to servants and disciples were often tedious, they were essential to the functioning of the sect. Cultivators were far and few between and seldom wasted their time on such menial tasks, their focus reserved for more profound pursuits. Instead, it fell to mortals¡ªwhether aspiring cultivators or those lacking an affinity¡ªto shoulder these duties. Without their efforts, the sect would have little reason to maintain a host of mortals under its direct protection, no matter how aspirational they might be.


    In a sense, the tasks performed by mortals within the sect were their currency. In exchange for their labor, they were granted two warm meals a day, fresh clothes each week, and a safety far beyond what mortals in villages could hope for. However, this came at a cost¡ªeach day required them to perform a task, some more burdensome than others. Servant disciples, however, were afforded the privilege of spending the remainder of their day as they wished, a right not shared by the servants.


    As the rowdiness of the mess hall began to die down, Ren noticed William walking in, his steps heavy and his eyes lacking focus. The young men chuckled at the sight.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Will, it¡¯s not that bad,¡± Varian teased.


    William focused on them, grabbing a bowl for himself before meandering over. ¡°Varian, don¡¯t even joke about that. I¡¯ve seen more today than I ever thought I would,¡± he replied gravely.


    Ren raised an eyebrow before lightly smacking the back of William¡¯s head. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic, you big lug. You¡¯re not the first to have to do it, and it certainly isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve had to either,¡± he said, sounding exasperated.


    William broke into a light chuckle at that, soon joined by the others. After a moment, Varian looked at him and said, ¡°I know you weren¡¯t here for this, Will, but I¡¯ve got something to share with you all,¡± his voice low, as if not wanting to be overheard. ¡°Lucas challenged me to a spar... very calmly, too,¡± he finished. William raised an eyebrow at that but kept drinking his soup, clearly ravenous.


    ¡°Not like you¡¯re scared of him, right, Varian?¡± Arthur added lazily, a playful smirk on his face. Ren interjected thoughtfully, ¡°I don¡¯t know, Arthur. Lucas might be a pompous prick, but why would he challenge Varian now, after avoiding him for so long? I don¡¯t think you should take him up on the offer,¡± Ren advised.


    Varian shook his head. ¡°I already have,¡± he said, shrugging. ¡°Even though I know he¡¯s got something planned. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll grow properly if I¡¯m not willing to stick my neck out occasionally.¡±


    Ren frowned at this but didn¡¯t comment further. William, having finished his meal, set his bowl down firmly.


    ¡°Varian, I have to agree with Ren. You¡¯re stubborn, and I understand why, but you should¡¯ve thought this through more carefully. We could¡¯ve figured it out together,¡± he said calmly.


    ¡°That being said,¡± William continued, his serious expression melting into a grin, ¡°now that you¡¯ve accepted, we might as well prepare you properly.¡±


    Varian returned the grin, amused by his battle-hungry friend. ¡°You get me all too well, Will. I was hoping to get some pointers before my spar with him¡ªmaybe some light sparring of our own,¡± he added tentatively.


    The young men got up in unison and headed over to Lady Wang to hand in their bowls. She teased them for not finishing everything¡ªexcept Varian, as usual. Of course, there was no malice in her teasing; it was all meant in good humor.


    They walked together toward the training hall, which also doubled as the place where servant disciples spar every evening. As they entered, the sounds of Martial Skills being practiced and wood striking straw echoed around them. It seemed they weren¡¯t the first to arrive today. Two others were already there, both young women, alternating strikes against a dummy.


    Claire kept her hair short, the scar under her left eye giving her an intimidating air. Her punches thudded satisfyingly against the dummy, each strike sounding as vicious as it felt. The boys hadn¡¯t initially given her the respect she deserved, but over the years, through countless bruises and harsh lessons, she had more than earned it.


    The other woman in question wielded a sword, her long hair tied into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Yue was as cold as her namesake would suggest, though she wasn¡¯t a bad person by any means¡ªshe simply wasn¡¯t fond of socializing.


    Varian waved to both of them, greeting them warmly. Claire gave a quick glance and a grunt of acknowledgment, while Yue merely nodded in response. She was practicing a Martial Skill, one of the many available to disciples pursuing the sword. The sword was by far the most popular weapon among cultivators. It symbolized elegance, complexity, and honor. Most Martial Skills were tailored for sword users.


    Varian cleared his mind of those thoughts and focused on what Yue was doing. Her sword strikes were fast and precise¡ªa thrust aimed at the neck, a slice along imaginary tendons. He had sparred often enough against the other nine servant disciples to recognize their styles. Yue favored rapid strikes, attempting to overwhelm her opponent with a series of minor hits.


    William snapped Varian out of his reverie. ¡°Don¡¯t get distracted by the pretty ladies, Varian. We¡¯ve got something to do,¡± he said.


    Varian rolled his eyes but acquiesced, knowing his friend was right, at least in that regard. He picked up his trusty staff, feeling its weight settle comfortably in his hands. William dropped into position, bending his knees and spreading his arms wide, grinning at his friend.


    Ren counted down. ¡°3... 2... 1... Start!¡±


    William lunged into action faster than Varian, charging at him like a wild boar heading straight for its prey. Varian backpedaled, keeping his distance while sending tentative thrusts toward William.


    William dodged one after another, closing the gap between them as Varian continued to thrust with his staff. He quickly assessed each strike, dodging each with increasing precision.


    But the last thrust turned out to be a feint, a realization that hit William too late as his knees buckled slightly. Varian had turned the thrust into a low sweep at the last moment, hoping to catch William off guard. Grinning to himself, Varian saw an opportunity to win the spar right then.


    Using the momentum from the sweep, Varian transitioned into a chop, hoping the added strength would be enough to land a decisive blow. William braced himself, raising his arm to block. The staff slammed into William¡¯s arm with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the hall.


    Varian blanched, but William wasted no time closing the gap as Varian struggled to pull his staff back.


    Bang!


    The air was knocked from Varian¡¯s lungs as William tackled him to the ground, the weight of his friend leaving him gasping for breath.


    Varian knew he¡¯d lost, but his concern for his friend outweighed his frustration. William extended a hand to help him up, wincing slightly as he pulled Varian to his feet.


    ¡°Will! Why would you take the hit on your arm like that? Even with a salve, it¡¯ll take at least 10 cycles to heal,¡± Varian exclaimed, worry etched on his face.


    ¡°Varian, do you think Lucas is going to play nice? I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s planning, but Ren is right¡ªyou were rash. This,¡± William said, pointing to his right arm, ¡°is nothing. Do you think Lucas will fight fair? You talked about sticking out your neck, right? You¡¯ll have to prove you want it more than he does.¡±


    Varian wasn¡¯t happy. Surely there could have been another way to teach him this lesson without injuring himself. But he knew this wasn¡¯t the time for self-pity. He could hear footsteps echoing from outside.


    Varian¡¯s ragtag group of friends turned to look at the entrance, and even Claire and Yue stopped striking the dummy, knowing this was something more than the usual sparring session.


    The first person to enter was Rufus, his hulking frame nearly blocking whoever stood behind him. Varian¡¯s eyes narrowed. Whatever Lucas had planned, he¡¯d find out soon enough.

 Chapter 4: The Spar

    The air between them seemed to freeze, the tension hanging heavy and palpable. Varian couldn¡¯t shake the deep unease settling in his gut. Lucas was usually loud and confident¡ªthis was unbecoming of him.


    Varian was about to break the silence when the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the tension.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, everyone. Rufus, would you be so kind as to let me through?¡± A short young man with wispy white hair flowing over his shoulders spoke languidly.


    Rufus turned to the young man, then stepped aside to let him through. Gerald was¡­ a hard person to read. He rarely attended their sparring sessions, and even when he did, he never participated. Gerald¡¯s gaze flicked between Lucas and Varian, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten all of you in a tizzy? I know I¡¯m hard to ignore, but please, do carry on with whatever you have planned,¡± he said with a light chuckle, attempting¡ªbut failing¡ªto diffuse the tension.


    Lucas ignored Gerald entirely, his piercing gaze locked onto Varian.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got some unsettled business. Let¡¯s not waste any time,¡± he said impatiently.


    Varian allowed himself a small smile, relieved to see Lucas behaving more like his usual self. He grunted in acknowledgment and moved to the center of the hall, his staff held firmly in hand.


    Lucas moved to select his weapon. However, instead of grabbing for his trusted sword, he selected a saber. Varian''s eyebrows rose in surprise. Lucas was never one to hold back his opinions and had frequently mocked the saber for its perceived inferiority.


    Varian knew this would be a difficult spar. Still, instead of feeling shaken, he forced himself to act uninterested, intending to dampen Lucas'' confidence.


    Lucas and Varian began circling each other, their eyes locked intensely. Ren took this moment to begin his countdown. Neither of them noticed it, though the clap marking the start of the spar echoed sharply in their ears.


    Varian began with a vertical chop, aiming to test Lucas¡¯ skill with the sabre. Lucas parried the strike easily, then dashed forward without hesitation. Varian, anticipating this, tightened his grip on the staff and swung it horizontally towards his ribs, forcing Lucas to either retreat or take the hit.


    True to form, Lucas chose to take the hit, prioritizing his aggression over a cautious defense. Without warning, Lucas accelerated, charging toward Varian at a speed he knew would leave Varian no time to react. Varian frowned at this, but had no time to pay it any further attention¡ªLucas was already upon him.


    Lucas swung with all his might, fully intending on blasting through whatever defense Varian had planned. Varian braced for the hit, holding the staff in front of him to dampen the impact of Lucas¡¯ sabre.


    Varian¡¯s eyes widened as he was pushed back with a force he would have expected from Rufus, not Lucas. Varian knew time was sparse, however, and sought to stabilize himself before Lucas could engage once more.


    What followed was an onslaught of strike after strike, each sending ripples through Varian and his staff alike. Each blow felt like a strike from a warhammer. Varian felt his arms gradually weaken and knew something had to change. He had initially planned on outlasting Lucas. Despite the overwhelming barrage of strikes he was aiming at Varian, however, he did not seem to tire.


    Varian saw a silver lining in his situation, though. While Lucas didn¡¯t seem to be tiring, his technique was becoming sloppier¡ªless refined. Varian seized the opportunity to take advantage of Lucas'' sloppiness, opting for an unexpected sweep rather than defending. Lucas clearly hadn¡¯t expected it. His eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled to the floor.


    Varian knew the fight wasn¡¯t over, judging by the look in Lucas¡¯ eyes. He went in for a thrust to Lucas¡¯ chest. Miraculously, Lucas managed to deflect it while wielding his saber one-handed. With his other hand, he pushed himself back up. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    At this point there was no denying it; something was wrong with Lucas. While Varian hadn¡¯t sparred with him since last winter, he¡¯d seen Lucas spar the others occasionally. He was performing better than ever before. His attacks were sharper, faster, and more aggressive.


    Both fighters separated, their positions identical to the one they¡¯d started with. Varian stared at Lucas intently, trying to figure out what was going on. Then it hit him.


    Varian focused on Lucas¡¯ bloodshot eyes¡ªfar too bloodshot. As they circled, Varian tried to recall where he¡¯d heard of something similar.


    The answer struck him like lightning, pulling his thoughts back to the compound where he had lived with his old man.


    ¡®Son, I know you¡¯re nervous,¡¯ Varian¡¯s foster father had said soothingly. ¡®Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s a big step, but don¡¯t you hope to be a grand cultivator one day?¡¯ He flashed his pearly white teeth. Varian remembered nodding eagerly. ¡®So, let me teach you the basics before I send you off. Let¡¯s see¡­ Ah, the four cultivator professions...¡¯


    One of these professions was alchemy¡ªthe art of refining spiritual materials into pills for consumption. Though their effects varied, all pills had one thing in common.


    Using a pill too potent for the body always caused backlash, Varian thought grimly.Though Varian didn¡¯t know all the forms of pill backlash, it was clear that Lucas was suffering from some form of it.


    Both servants and servant disciples were forbidden from taking pills. Mortal bodies weren¡¯t meant to absorb more Qi than they held naturally. Varian grimaced, knowing Lucas had done something very foolish in his desire to triumph over him.


    He knew he couldn¡¯t afford to give Lucas an inch. Varian¡¯s eyes sharpened as he began targeting Lucas'' vital areas¡ªneck, collarbone, kneecaps. Lucas defended himself desperately, knowing he couldn¡¯t afford to get hit.


    Varian¡¯s friends watched with rapt attention. William grinned at Varian¡¯s switch in tactics. Arthur, on the other hand, frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not like Varian to be this ruthless, even if he got his ass handed to him just a couple of minutes ago,¡± he said worriedly. William narrowed his eyes, realizing the truth in Arthur¡¯s words.


    ¡°Do you think he noticed something?¡± Ren asked conspiratorially. William responded, ¡°Perhaps, but we should only intervene if something dire happens.¡± The teenagers nodded in agreement.


    Across the hall, Gerald raised his brow slowly, a playful smirk on his face. ¡°It seems he has finally noticed,¡± the young man muttered to himself before turning to leave the hall.


    Varian and Lucas were locked in their fight¡ªVarian on the offense, Lucas on defense, their roles reversed.


    Varian felt his energy waning, knowing he had to end it soon. He took a deep breath, then transitioned a parried thrust into a devastating chop, putting all his strength behind it. Throughout the fight, Lucas¡¯ focus and technique had been flagging. Varian intended to capitalize on that.


    His hope was realized when Lucas reacted just a second too slowly, his sabre not rising in time to fully absorb the blow. The sound of wood hitting flesh resounded through the hall, leaving no room as to the intensity of the blow. The blow sent Lucas staggering to his knees, panting heavily.


    Varian held his staff, its end just inches from Lucas¡¯ neck. With a tired smile, Varian declared, ¡°I win.¡± He felt accomplished, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. They stared at each other for a moment before Varian extended a hand to pull Lucas up. Lucas looked at his hand, seemingly hesitating before grabbing onto Varian¡¯s hand and pulling himself up.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m happy with how it ended, but good spar, Varian,¡± he spat out begrudgingly. Varian smiled at him in turn and faced his friends, a triumphant grin firmly placed on his face. ¡°See? Didn¡¯t I tell you I had this in the bag?¡± Varian joked. Instead of the happy¡ªor even frustrated¡ªexpressions he expected, though, all he saw were wide eyes.


    He turned, but it was too late. Lucas swung his sabre horizontally, aiming for his head with a vicious grin painted on his face. Varian managed to get his arm in front of his head just in time, but the blow sent him crashing to the floor.


    Varian noticed his friends rushing at Lucas angrily, though he couldn¡¯t make out what they were saying. Even Claire and Yue seemed shocked, Varian noted distractedly.


    His arm throbbed painfully, but Varian couldn¡¯t focus before everything faded to black.

 Chapter 5: Revelations

    Varian stirred as consciousness returned, his eyes fluttering open. But instead of his quarters, he found himself in an endless white expanse. He shot up to his feet, his pain all but forgotten.


    Where.. am I?


    Varian tried to speak, but no sound came out of his lips. His eyes darted around, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto ground him. Then, he saw it. At the edge of his vision, a flash of gold appeared, expanding as it rushed toward him.


    Varian turned to run but froze, startled by what he saw beneath him¡ªnothing but endless white. He hesitantly took a step, and when the ''ground'' held firm, he broke into a sprint.


    No matter how fast he ran, the white around him shifted into a rich, luminous gold.


    Suddenly, a figure appeared before him, floating rather than standing. Its features were indistinct, vaguely humanoid, yet Varian felt certain this.. apparition was far from human.


    It regarded him inquisitively, its head tilting at him as if the motion were one unfamiliar to it.


    A finger stretched toward him, its shape rippling and shifting like liquid. Varian wanted to back away, to scream and run, but his body refused to obey.


    Varian didn¡¯t hear the words so much as feel them forcing their way into his skull, the agony sending him reeling.


    Not... yet¡­ Too¡­ Early... TOO... EARLY¡­!


    Varian¡¯s world faded to black once more.


    <hr>


    Varian shot up, cold sweat clinging to his skin. His eyes darted around the room, the familiar surroundings grounding him. A nagging sense of forgetting something important lingered, but he chose not to dwell on it.


    His head throbbed with pain, a reminder of the blow Lucas had landed when he snuck up on him. Memories surged unbidden, the final moments of the spar flashing through his mind.


    Varian gritted his teeth, frustration burning hot in his chest. Two sharp knocks at the door shattered his reverie. Varian¡¯s eyes widened upon seeing who entered.


    Grey eyes stared at him, steely yet with a gentle light to them. Long grey hair was bundled into a neat bun. White robes with but a hint of grey at the collar were wrapped around the figure tightly.


    Standing in the doorway was none other than Custodian August, his foster father and one of the three outer sect custodians of the Swooping Swallow Sect.


    ¡°Varian,¡± his father said, his calm tone and inscrutable gaze leaving Varian unsure of what to expect. Would his father be disappointed?


    They stood in silence, the unspoken tension hanging heavy, until his father¡¯s face softened into a gentle smile. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you, my boy,¡± he said, his voice warm and steady. Emotion surged within Varian, spilling over as he let out a choked sob. ¡®I¡¯ve missed you too, Dad...¡¯ he managed, his voice trembling.


    His father pulled him into a warm embrace, and Varian melted into it, tears flowing freely. Minutes passed in relative silence as his father gently patted his back.


    ¡°Now, now, Varian, haven¡¯t you cried enough?¡± his father said, his tone both doting and lightly chiding. Varian nodded in quiet agreement. The steel returned to August¡¯s gaze, his tone sharpening with focus. ¡®Tell me, son, what exactly happened?¡¯ he asked.


    Varian began with Lucas¡¯ challenge and recounted everything in detail¡ªfrom the start of the fight to his realization about Lucas¡¯ enhanced state. When Varian mentioned Lucas blindsiding him, a flash of barely concealed anger crossed August¡¯s eyes, though he quickly tempered it.


    I¡¯m sorry, son. This is my fault,¡¯ August confessed. Varian blinked, confusion written across his face. How could it be your fault? It¡¯s not like you encouraged him or anything,¡¯ he said, confusion lacing his voice.


    August chuckled. ¡°No, I certainly didn¡¯t. But it¡¯s my fault all the same. I can see you¡¯re confused¡ªlet me explain,¡± he said with a calming smile.


    Politics exist even among cultivators, just like in the mortal world,¡± August began patiently. ¡°Everyone is striving for the unattainable¡ªthe insurmountable peak. Eternity. But resources are scarce. Even here, our sect doesn¡¯t have a monopoly on cultivation resources. Two other sects hold as much influence as we do.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Varian remained silent, knowing he¡¯d get the answers to his burning questions soon enough.


    August took a deep breath before continuing, ¡°They don¡¯t matter right now. What does matter is that within our sect, factions exist. Not everyone agrees on how resources should be allocated or who should receive them.¡±


    He sighed deeply, the air leaving his lungs as though it carried his strength away.


    ¡°Think, Varian. How could Lucas have possibly gotten access to a pill like that? Sure, he might have stolen it. But I¡¯ve been watching. He¡¯s a cowardly child, unfit for true struggle. No¡ªsomeone gave him that pill. And they did it with one purpose: to harm you,¡± he concluded, anger seeping into his voice.


    Varian struggled to find the words, his mind reeling from the revelations.


    ¡°I truly am sorry for not warning you ahead of time,¡± August said, his tone heavy with regret. ¡°I never thought they¡¯d stoop so low as to target children just to hurt me, even if you are my child.¡± He paused, his gaze softening. ¡°I had hoped the struggle would make you stronger. In a way, I wasn¡¯t wrong,¡± he added with a small, wistful smile. ¡°I¡¯ve heard your friends boast about your skill with the staff, of all weapons,¡± he teased.


    Varian flushed. ¡®Oh, come on. You already knew that¡ªyou¡¯ve been watching over me, remember?¡¯ He shot back with a grin.


    His father arched a brow. ¡°Oh? Four years away, and suddenly you¡¯ve grown a sharp tongue?¡± he teased.


    Laughter echoed between them, easing the tension. For now, at least, Varian¡¯s worries drifted to the back of his mind.


    Their laughter eventually died down. Varian decided now was as good a time as any to ask what was on his mind.


    ¡°What will happen to Lucas? He crossed the line¡ªwill he be punished?¡± Varian asked, his fists clenched and anger simmering beneath his words.


    His father frowned at that. ¡°Varian, control your temper. What Lucas did was unforgivable, and my anger burns as fiercely as yours. But don¡¯t let it consume you¡ªyou¡¯re better than that, better than him. Yes, he will be punished. If he had won, your protests would have been dismissed as nothing more than childish bitterness,¡± August said, pouring tea for them both.


    ¡°Your victory enraged Lucas, and in his fury, he acted recklessly. For that, he will likely face exile,¡¯ August said, his voice grave.


    Varian¡¯s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a loss.


    ¡°Consider this a lenient punishment. Without my intervention, the enforcement hall would have dealt with him far more severely. Crimes between servant disciples do not weigh as heavily, but he would have likely been imprisoned for quite a long time.¡± He sighed, the warmth of the tea momentarily cooling his anger, before turning to Varian, waiting for his response.


    ¡°Why defend him...?¡± Varian muttered, his voice trailing off before he recalled his father¡¯s earlier words. He straightened and clarified, ¡°I mean, why let him off so easily? Don¡¯t you feel angry too?¡±


    August set his cup down with deliberate care, the steam curling upward in lazy spirals, momentarily catching the light peering through the window. ¡°Angry? Of course¡ªjust not at Lucas. His actions were those of a coward, but his cowardice is nothing compared to the one who chose to feed a mortal child a pill meant for cultivators. They are the true target of my ire¡±.


    ¡°There will be an investigation, and I¡¯ll see to it personally. Though I¡¯m merely an outer sect custodian, I still have friends in high places¡ªfriends who have fared better than I,¡± August said, his voice tinged with wistfulness.


    Varian nodded, his thoughts swirling as he processed everything. August¡¯s sharp clap jolted him from his reverie. ¡°Rest now, boy,¡± he commanded, his tone steady and serious. ¡°You¡¯ve only been asleep for a night, but you¡¯ll need more rest if you want that arm healed in time for the awakening ceremony.¡±


    Varian furrowed his brows, the dull ache in his arm suddenly sharpening into a fiery throb. The realization hit him like a blow¡ªhis arm was likely broken. He clenched his teeth, swallowing the scream that threatened to escape.


    ¡°Son, focus. Breathe deeply,¡± August said, his voice steady and grounding. Varian followed his father¡¯s measured rhythm, the deep breaths helping to dull the edge of his pain. ¡°I had one of our alchemists take a look at it. It wasn¡¯t easy¡ªor cheap¡ªbut your arm will heal in time for the ceremony,¡± August assured him, his tone firm. ¡°That is, of course, contingent on you actually resting as you should.¡±


    Varian flushed in light embarrassment, knowing his thoughts were understood immediately. ¡°Stay here until you¡¯re fully healed,¡± August continued. ¡°Meditate, study the scrolls, do whatever you like¡ªbut no training. If you can manage that, I¡¯ll personally train you for the ceremony.¡± A sly grin played on his lips, as if daring Varian to disobey.


    ¡°But I thought you weren¡¯t allowed to show me favoritism beyond a certain extent. Surely the healing is already above that threshold?¡±


    August shook his head gently, loose strands dancing over his aged face. ¡°I¡¯m simply a father protecting his child¡ªwho, might I add, almost died. Let the old codgers grumble if they must; they¡¯ll grant me this much.¡± With a playful wink, he gestured to the tea. ¡°Now, drink up before it gets cold.¡± With that, he left Varian to his thoughts.


    Varian chuckled at that before wincing slightly, his arm throbbing in pain. His father¡¯s care for him warmed his heart, and more than ever, the conviction to be a cultivator burned bright in his chest. For now, though, he¡¯d do as the old man instructed and rest. The path ahead of him would be no easy one, if this event was any indicator, and Varian would be ready.

 Chapter 6: Recovery

    Varian awoke after what felt like an eternity, his eyes heavy with the lingering haze of sleep. The faint scent of herbs and aged wood filled the room, gradually lifting the haze over his mind. He knew he couldn¡¯t afford to be idle, though; his fellow disciples wouldn¡¯t stop improving. While his father had forbidden him from physical training, Varian was starting to realize he knew painfully little about the world of cultivation. He aimed to rectify that.


    He had heard of alchemical pills before his spar with Lucas, yet he hadn¡¯t ever expected their effect to be that potent. What knowledge would he need to acquire to make those pills for himself? The allure of alchemy beckoned, and Varian resolved to learn all he could find in his father¡¯s compound.


    With deliberate care, he lifted himself out of the straw bed, his injured arm protesting against the very notion. The room was quiet, save for the pained grunts accompanying his every movement.


    Eventually, Varian managed to properly escape the confines of the comfortable bed. He noticed his robes cleanly folded on the floor next to him, a note placed neatly on top of it. Varian opened the note and read it through carefully, not knowing what to expect.


    After reading through it in its entirety, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. It seemed that regardless of the circumstances he found himself in, his friends would always find a way to add some levity.


    He could clearly see all 3 of his friends¡¯ handwriting, each distinct from one another. Arthur¡¯s looked lazy, as if written while the young man was half asleep. Ren¡¯s was far more flowing and precise, and William¡¯s was gruff and bold.


    With a small smile lingering on his face, Varian donned his clean robes, hoping not to aggravate his arm any further while wondering what his friends were doing now.


    He walked out of the room, the smell of wood and tea fading, yet not disappearing. ¡°How long has it been since I¡¯ve been in these halls¡­¡± Varian wondered to himself as he walked down the halls that were once familiar to him.


    As Varian wandered the halls in search of his father¡¯s library, he encountered an attendant carrying a stack of neatly arranged scrolls. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, ¡°do you know where I can find the custodian¡¯s library?¡±


    The attendant paused, her eyes scanning him quickly before realization lit up her face. ¡°Ah, of course, young master! Please, follow me!¡± She replied with a respectful nod.


    Shaking his head at the formality, Varian pushed the heavy doors open. The library greeted him like a relic from another time. The air was thick with the smell of old leather bindings and parchment. Shelves stretched high into the room, packed with dusty tomes that looked older than even his father. He never was familiar with the library, it being largely uninteresting to him as a child.


    After several minutes, his gaze landed on a section marked ¡°The Four Professions.¡± Among the neatly stacked volumes, one title caught his attention: The Fundamentals of Alchemy.


    He pulled the book from the shelf, its leather cover creaking in protest. Dust scattered into the air as he opened it, revealing dense but neatly organized pages. The text promised to guide its reader through the history and process of alchemy, from its origins to its practical applications.


    Varian settled into a nearby chair, his injured arm resting against the armrest. He felt a quiet determination welling up within him. If he was to understand the forces shaping his world, this was as good a place to start as any.


    Hours slipped by as Varian pored over the thick tome, his initial enthusiasm giving way to mounting frustration. Alchemy was no small undertaking¡ªit demanded not only knowledge but also precision and focus. With a sigh, he placed the book back on the shelf, rubbing his temples as he considered his next step.


    He resolved to broaden his perspective, choosing to read at least one introductory book on each of the four professions before making any decisions. Picking up a tome on weapon refining, he was drawn into the art of creating weapons of legend, weapons whose names would be recognized anywhere in the world.


    Next came a book on beast taming, which described the delicate balance of the companionship required to form bonds with spiritual creatures. Varian¡¯s interest piqued as he noticed information seemed to be largely lacking, as if it were lost.


    Finally, he turned his attention to formations, a discipline steeped in Qi flow and preparation. The complex diagrams of energy flows and geometric patterns left his head spinning, but he couldn¡¯t deny the appeal of wielding power so versatile.


    ¡°Varian,¡± August began, his tone both amused and mildly exasperated, ¡°I know you don¡¯t consider reading books physically exhausting, but look at the time, would you? Your one-track focus can be a detriment too, it seems.¡±


    Varian opened his mouth to protest, only to glance out of the nearby window and see the darkened sky. The sun had long since set, and the moon now hung high in the heavens, its silvery light casting a serene glow over the world. Stars glittered like scattered jewels, their brilliance a reminder of how much time had passed unnoticed.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve been reading up on the professions. Do any of them catch your eye?¡± his father inquired.


    Varian hesitated, unsure which one sounded most interesting, before shaking his head.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have plenty of time to read up on them in the coming weeks. Go rest now,¡± August said firmly, leaving no room for disagreement.


    Varian knew a lost cause when he saw one and decided to heed his father¡¯s chiding tone.


    <hr>


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The following weeks were spent in a steady routine. Varian would wake up early to meditate and eat. The afternoons would be spent in the library, delving deeper into each of the professions. Each day brought morsels of information to him, filling in his empty tapestry of knowledge.


    Naturally, his father couldn¡¯t always be there with him; his responsibilities kept him out of his own compound more often than inside it. On the occasion he was present, however, Varian would bombard him with questions.


    One such day, they found themselves discussing Varian¡¯s final two options: beast taming and formations.


    ¡°There¡¯s one thing you¡¯re not considering about beast taming,¡± August said seriously. ¡°Until 5000 years ago, it was considered nothing but a myth from a bygone era. As such, its foundation is lacking, its depths not explored.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t that potentially mean it holds even greater strength, though?¡± Varian countered without hesitation.


    August¡¯s brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. ¡°Yes, that is true. However, do you not think that great minds from the past and present alike have been working towards that? Choose the path that has been explored, not one forgotten to time,¡± August intoned grimly.


    He continued, his tone softening slightly: ¡°There are formations to conceal treasures, to accumulate Qi for cultivation havens. With sufficient preparation, formations can even be used in combat.¡±


    Varian pored over his father¡¯s words, acknowledging the truth in them. Something about exploring uncharted waters just spoke to Varian deeply.


    He hesitated for a second before shaking his head lightly, his resolve unwavering. While he respected the man immensely, his mind was made up.


    In the days following their conversation, Varian immersed himself in every book on beast taming he could find. Admittedly, his father¡¯s collection on the subject was limited, but Varian devoured each text regardless.


    At its core, beast taming revolved around forming a bond with a spirit beast. The primary challenge lay in the innate aggression of these creatures. Spirit beasts possessed physical strength that could rival cultivators of the same stage, yet their limited mental faculties made forging a bond notoriously difficult.


    Despite the difficulty, however, Varian was not cowed. I am choosing a hard path; I know this. But if I don¡¯t take any risks, how could I ever become a truly great cultivator? Varian wondered to himself.


    At this point, the pain in his arm had reduced to all but nothing. Varian was itching to grab his staff once more, but he knew he¡¯d have to wait for his father¡¯s permission just a bit longer.


    That same evening, he got granted exactly that.


    <hr>


    Varian stood in his father¡¯s courtyard, facing dummies that resembled the ones in the servant quarters, albeit sturdier and more imposing. In his left hand, the staff rested comfortably¡ªa companion he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d missed until now.


    August stood off to the side, his sharp, eagle-eyed gaze fixed on his son. ¡°Begin with the basic strikes of the Foundational Swallow Sweeping Strikes. Do not practice on the dummy yet,¡± he commanded.


    Varian took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes in concentration. As his lungs emptied, he drew on the energy coursing through his blood and began. Thrust. Chop. Sweep. His movements flowed from one to the next. Varian closed his eyes, his surroundings fading to the background.


    Memories of past battles crept into his mind. He had spent countless hours thinking about how to improve, how he could¡¯ve fought better against both William and Lucas.


    Tap.


    A sharp sting jolted him back to the present as his father¡¯s staff struck him lightly on the shoulder. Varian blinked, his focused trance shattered.


    August stood before him, his own staff firm in his hands, his expression unreadable. ¡°It is good to focus,¡± he said sternly, ¡°but do not lose yourself while practicing. Learn to maintain that level of focus and stay aware of your surroundings.¡±


    He paused, his gaze softening slightly. ¡°That being said, your foundation isn¡¯t bad.¡± With a nod of approval, he gestured toward the dummies. ¡°Now, try those same moves against the practice dummies,¡± August instructed as he stepped back and sat down, watching intently.


    Varian didn¡¯t dwell on his initial failure. He leveled his staff at the dummy and thrust forward, but before the staff connected, the dummy¡¯s wooden arms jerked into motion, deflecting his strike with ease.


    He froze, staring at the dummy in bewilderment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His musings were cut short by his father¡¯s voice. ¡°Don¡¯t stop¡ªkeep going until you manage to hit it,¡± August said, the challenge obvious in his voice.


    Varian knew he was being goaded, but he couldn''t be incapable of striking a singular dummy. Taking a deep breath, he dashed forward, aiming for a faster thrust to catch it off guard. Yet once again, the dummy swatted his staff aside effortlessly, using that same jerking motion. Using the momentum from the parry, Varian transitioned into a sweeping strike, but it got deflected all the same.


    This exchange continued for several minutes. Each strike became more frantic, more sloppy, while Varian¡¯s focus started waning. Varian started to feel fatigue creeping into his limbs. His breathing grew ragged, the energy leaving his body faster than his breaths could draw it in. Eventually, the fatigue overwhelmed him, having Varian drop to the floor unflatteringly. He breathed in deeply, hoping his greedy intakes of air would soothe the fire running through his muscles.


    ¡°Not as easy as you thought, huh?¡± August taunted, standing up from the ground with an irritating smirk plastered on his face. ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to you, son. These dummies are designed for cultivators in the Body Refinement stage, not mortals, after all. His tone shifted, almost consoling.


    Varian shot his father a glare, frustration evident in his expression. ¡°Then why make me fight them? That¡¯s not fair at all! How am I supposed to hit them?¡± He asked, words leaving him both angrier and faster than he expected of himself.


    August shook his head slowly, his expression tinged with disappointment. ¡°You¡¯ll need to rein in that temper of yours one day, Varian,¡± he said sternly. Then, after a pause, he added, ¡°For now, watch closely. I¡¯ll suppress myself to the physical level of a healthy mortal.¡±


    What followed was a lesson in precision. August began with a thrust, mirroring Varian¡¯s earlier attempt. But just as his strike neared the dummy¡¯s blocking arm, August slowed it, allowing the dummy to parry just as it had with Varian¡¯s. However, instead of the staff being deflected outwardly, it bounced lightly on the dummy¡¯s arm. August slid his staff over the arm effortlessly, striking it on the neck.


    Varian watched in stunned silence. He knew that the seeming simplicity of the maneuver was but a facade. To do what his father had done would require an immense degree of bodily control, keen understanding of one¡¯s weapon, and a sense of timing borne out of relentless practice.


    ¡°This, young Varian,¡± August said, his tone serious as his gaze pinned his son, ¡°is what we¡¯ll be practicing for the next two weeks. By the end of these two weeks, I expect you to be able to hit this dummy at least once. If you manage to strike it more than that? Well, let¡¯s just say I''m not a stingy person.¡±


    Varian opened his mouth to protest, aware of how difficult this task would truly be. Yet, despite the doubts swirling inside him, his head nodded resolutely. He accepted the challenge, being both interested in the challenge ahead of him as well as the potential reward.


    ¡°Then come, son,¡± August said with a grin, clapping his hands together. ¡°Try again, and again, until your body refuses to move, and your heart can no longer fuel your body past its limits.¡±


    Varian groaned at the thought, but without hesitation, he took his stance. He knew this was just as much a part of his journey as cultivation itself.

 Chapter 7: One Strike

    Varian began with a thrust, the dummy springing to life as its wooden arms moved to parry. Just before the staff made contact, he slowed his motion slightly, trying to mimic the technique his father had demonstrated.


    His dreams were not to be, however, as the dummy¡¯s arm deflected his strike entirely out of range, making it so no redirection could possibly hit.


    A week had passed since his training began. Every waking moment was spent either practicing tirelessly or recovering. Progress had been slow but undeniable¡ªthere were moments when he felt so close to landing a strike. Yet no matter what he tried, the best he¡¯d managed was grazing the dummy¡¯s surface.


    He should have been proud of the strides he had made, but instead, dissatisfaction gnawed at him. The thought of failure loomed too large to ignore.


    ¡°Your strikes are still too heavy, Varian. Again!¡± August¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the young man¡¯s thoughts like a blade.


    Varian could feel himself at the precipice of success, just the tiniest bit of improvement necessary for him to actually be able to hit the dummy, though it continued to elude him.


    He took a deep, steadying breath, loose strands of hair swaying gently across his face. When he had started training for the day, the sun was still creeping above the horizon, its light illuminating the fields. Now, it had long since faded back to the other side, only to return when the moon had had its fill of attention.


    Despite his determination, Varian¡¯s session had come to an end¡ªnot by choice, but by his father¡¯s decree.


    Varian wished he could¡¯ve kept testing his own mettle versus that of the dummy, but his father forbade him. ¡°Son, your body needs recuperation. I understand the urgency in you; I, too, was young before,¡± August grinned. ¡°But your haste will result in a lacking foundation. It must be built bit by bit, just like a house is built slowly from the ground up,¡± he finished.


    Varian recognized the wisdom in his father''s words. That didn''t stop the frustration in him from threatening to bubble over, though he calmed himself.


    So, he tried to sleep off his frustration, despite how slumber seemed to actively want to evade him. Varian could see his frustration holding him back, and so, he tried to let it go. Eventually, his eyes closed, his breath stilled, and Varian¡¯s consciousness faded from the forefront of his mind.


    <hr>


    He awoke with difficulty the next day. Though his frustrations lingered, they were buried deep within, replaced by a newfound calm. Varian understood that the only things that would help him succeed were relentless practice and a steady mind.


    ¡°Today will be different,¡± he vowed quietly to himself.


    After finishing his hearty meal of congee with some vegetables, he made his way to the courtyard. His breaths were deep and steady, each breath reinforcing his resolve.


    As the sun climbed higher, Varian practiced the basic movements of the Foundational Swallow Sweeping Strikes. His body flowed from one motion to the next, muscle memory taking over as hours slipped by.


    His father appeared in an instant. Varian, used to this by now, turned to his dad and smiled, his face serene for once.


    August raised a curious brow, noticing the shift in his son¡¯s demeanor. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile of approval. ¡°Good. You do not always need to feel calm, but you must control your emotions, not let them control you. Tell me, though¡ªshould a mere dummy hold such sway over you?¡± he asked rhetorically, his tone teasing.


    Varian¡¯s smile widened slightly. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m still as frustrated as ever,¡± he admitted, his gaze locking onto the dummy. ¡°But instead of wasting that frustration¡­¡± He trailed off, his focus sharpening like the edge of a blade.


    August shook his head at that. ¡°Well then, prove yourself, Varian!¡± he declared, his voice laced with challenge.


    Varian nodded, gaze not shifting from the dummy. He inhaled deeply, mustering all the energy his lungs would let him.


    Once he was ready, Varian began his approach. His steps were slow at first, as if he were strolling rather than fighting. But as he neared the dummy, his pace quickened, each stride being fueled by his momentum until he was nearly upon it.


    With a sudden burst of motion, Varian launched a thrust¡ªnot with the raw force of his earlier attempts, but with a lighter, more controlled motion.


    As expected, the dummy moved to deflect it. Yet this time, something was different. The staff didn¡¯t fly out of range, nor did it recoil wildly. Instead, it bounced off of its arm lightly, allowing Varian to control the staff properly.


    Varian transitioned into a second strike, fluid and seamless. This strike, too, was light¡ªits strength aided not by Varian''s own efforts but by the momentum gained from the deflection.


    Time and again, the sequence repeated itself. Varian would strike, and the dummy would deflect. Slowly, however, his strength started increasing, and his body started accelerating.


    Each deflection added momentum, spinning Varian around like a leaf caught in the wind. He knew there was a flaw that accompanied his approach, however¡ªno real opponent would ever stand idle and allow such an opening. A skilled combatant would exploit his unbalanced movements in an instant.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    But for this singular purpose, it was perfect.


    Varian felt the strain building in his muscles, exhaustion seeping through his body like a rot. He knew he didn''t have much more energy left in him. The time was nigh.


    One more strike.


    With resolve hardening in his chest, he struck once again, a horizontal strike. The dummy deflected his attack as expected, but this time, Varian didn''t simply let his body move with the motion of the staff. His grip strengthened, and he started turning in the opposite direction. Twisting the entirety of his body, he channeled every iota of strength within him into this final strike.


    The staff flew at the dummy faster than Varian could have ever swung it on his own. A horizontal slash approached the dummy, this time from the opposite side.


    This was it¡ªhis last chance to break through.


    The dummy swung its arms in that familiar, jerky motion¡ªsomething Varian had grown to hate profoundly. But this time, the same exchange did not occur. Wood hit wood with a resounding crack, yet neither gave way, both stuck in position.


    A grin spread across Varian¡¯s face. His gambit had worked. Seizing the moment, he slid his staff roughly along the dummy¡¯s arm, using its temporary stillness to score a strike along its neck.


    Varian collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving with exhaustion, and his hands still gripping the staff tightly. But instead of the frustration that usually marred his features after an attempt, an expression of joy was present on his face.


    August stared at his son, amusement evident on his face. ¡°You do realize this technique would never work in a real fight, don¡¯t you?¡± he asked, exasperation coloring his tone.


    Varian turned his head toward his father, a smug smirk creeping up. ¡°Of course. But it doesn¡¯t need to. I hit it, and that¡¯s all that matters right now,¡± he replied confidently.


    For a moment, his grin lingered, but then his expression shifted, turning serious. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t enough. I want that reward, and I still have a week left to earn it, right?¡±


    August¡¯s stern gaze softened, his lips curling into a proud smile. ¡°You¡¯ve done well today, Varian. Truly, I mean it. This determination of yours¡ªit will take you far, provided you have the talent for cultivation to match it,¡± the older man said, his voice warm with approval.


    Varian nodded, his resolve hardening even further. The battle wasn¡¯t over, but today, he had claimed a small victory¡ªand with it, the drive to keep going.


    Varian made his way to the bathing chambers, seeking some respite for both his restless mind and weary body. As the cool water cascaded over him, he felt his worries melt away, carried off in streams that pooled at his feet. In their place came a fleeting sense of calm¡ªa brief reprieve he knew wouldn¡¯t last for long.


    His father¡¯s words, even if meant positively, stuck with him. ¡®It will do me well if I have the corresponding talent for cultivation.¡¯  He thought bitterly, the phrase replaying in his mind. The doubt it sparked was like a splinter he couldn¡¯t dislodge, bothering him relentlessly. Varian dried himself off properly and then made his way to his chambers, aiming to leave that bitterness behind him.


    Sleep came to him easily that night, exhaustion working better than any herb or tea could in allowing his body to seek proper relaxation.


    <hr>


    The next day, he awoke easily, dreams of beautiful vistas and endless expanses fading into the morning light. Varian now knew how to strike the dummy properly. Yet, if he wanted the reward his father dangled in his face like one would dangle a carrot in front of a pig, he would have to hit it more than once in a single session.


    So, he resolved himself to practice, determined to make every minute count.


    Each day, Varian improved slowly. He lowered the strength he built up to before attacking, knowing the maneuver would be possible even if the clash between staff and arm didn¡¯t result in a standstill. He refined his movements, maximizing the amount of strength he siphoned off of the dummy¡¯s reflections. Even his staffwork went through strides, pointers, and observations from August, allowing him to wield it with more ease.


    Finally, on the day before the aptitude test, Varian stood in the courtyard for his final attempt. He¡¯d managed to hit the dummy once already, but today, once wasn¡¯t enough. Not for him.


    Ignoring his body¡¯s protests and the fiery ache in his muscles, Varian pressed on. His staff flew in controlled arcs, each strike directed at where a vital point would be on a human opponent. And while the dummy was reflecting everything without too much difficulty, Varian¡¯s strength was accumulating, his confidence building up alongside it.


    Varian¡¯s breath was calm and unbothered as he went for the strike that he knew without a doubt would hit. He had replayed this attempt in his head thousands of times, refining it further and further with every attempt. The dummy caught his thrust, aiming it upwards, yet instead of allowing his staff to be deflected widely, he managed to pivot his foot and aim for the side of the dummy.


    A resounding thump echoed through the courtyard as wood met itself, his second strike landing cleanly.


    Varian¡¯s lips curled into a small smile, pride blooming in his chest. Then, unexpectedly, he began to laugh¡ªsoft at first, then heartily, at the absurdity of his pride in hitting a dummy twice catching up to him.


    August joined in too, knowing exactly why his son was feeling the way he did. ¡°You¡¯ve improved, son,¡± he said warmly, though a teasing edge crept into his tone. ¡°Even if I wish you had focused on technique rather than a trick,¡± he chided lightly.


    Varian snorted at that, knowing he couldn¡¯t possibly have actually gotten to that level in two weeks without it being lopsided in one way or another. Then, his expression shifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. ¡°So, what about my reward?¡±


    August smirked, crossing his arms. ¡°All in due time. For now, tomorrow¡¯s a big day. Go and rest,¡± he commanded firmly, leaving no room for argument.


    Varian furrowed his brows in confusion. ¡°Don¡¯t I need to go back for the test?¡±


    August chuckled lightly at that. ¡°No, the aptitude tests will take place in the outer sect itself. They¡¯ll be here tomorrow, just as the sun peeks over the horizon. Tomorrow, your fate will be decided,¡± he explained, his tone steady but laced with unspoken significance. ¡°I know how you feel, Varian. I¡¯ve been there myself. But worrying will help nothing. Rest now.¡±


    The young man felt like a lump of coal was stuck in his throat but nodded woodenly, retreating to his room.


    That night, he tossed and turned on his straw bed, his mind refusing to quiet. The hours crept by, and sleep only came to him when the moon stood high in the heavens, its gentle light casting a silvery glow over the world.