Jenny was one of the Academy's inner disciples, an honour that marked her out among the student body. Her master was considered elite by Sacred Wind Academy's troubled standards—even if he might have been seen as mediocre in stronger institutions. The truth remained: within these ancient, battered walls, Jenny was a rare talent.
But now, even her skilled master could not find a solution. Jenny had explained her cultivation problem in detail, but he'd come up empty. And yet, here was Ethan—an overweight, supposedly talentless librarian—diagnosing her issue at a glance. Understandably, she was stunned. Her confusion grew as Ethan seemed to ignore her skepticism entirely, pressing on with his surprising analysis.
"If my guess is right, you have an affinity for Metal and Darkness, correct?" Ethan asked, his eyes sharp and knowing.
The moment he spoke, Jenny's composure cracked. Her affinities—the natural alignment of her spirit and body to the elements—were a secret known only to her master. In the cultivation world, everyone possessed some form of elemental affinity: the fabled ten elements—Fire, Water, Metal, Wood, Light, Darkness, Wind, Earth, Time, and Space. Most could only tap a single element, but Jenny possessed two: Metal and Darkness.
"How did you know?" Jenny's voice trembled on the edge of awe and fear. She'd told no one but her master about her dual affinity, and the very existence of it was a rare blessing. It defined the techniques she could learn, the weapons she could wield, and the future she could carve out from the world's mysteries.
Ethan simply nodded. There was no need to explain; the answer was already clear in Jenny's troubled expression. "Let me ask you—are you currently training in sword arts?" he asked.
Jenny nodded, her uncertainty giving way to a flicker of hope. Perhaps, after so much confusion, she'd finally found someone who understood. "Yes. My master has set me on sword arts since the beginning. It felt right at first, but lately… not so much."
Ethan's next words were delivered with reassuring calm. "I want you to switch. Stop using swords for now—train with a sabre instead."
Jenny frowned, confusion twisting her face. "But why? Aren't swords aligned with metal? Shouldn't my affinity make that the logical choice?"
Ethan smiled, gently leading her toward understanding. "It's more nuanced than that. Yes, both swords and sabres belong to the metal element, but swords represent Light, and Sabres, Darkness. Your body's dominant affinity is actually Darkness, not Metal. Though you can use both, swords channel yang, the brightness of metal, while sabres channel yin, the shadows of darkness."
He continued, voice steady, "You've been training with swords, which means you're inviting light energy particles into your body—hoping they'll boost your organs and enhance your cultivation. But during your breathing exercises, those light particles start to merge with the darkness energy that naturally flows from within you."
Jenny's eyes widened, comprehension dawning.
Ethan leaned forward. "Light is yang, darkness is yin. They're opposing forces. When they collide inside you, they react violently—creating chaos energy. That violent energy is what burns in your liver and disrupts your sleep. At first, it was manageable, easy to ignore. But the longer you train with swords, the more light energy you absorb, and the more severe the chaos becomes. If left unchecked, this energy will eventually damage your meridians. You risk serious injury—and could even end up crippled for life."
Jenny was terrified. She'd thought the night pains only a minor inconvenience, the kind of hiccup every disciple faced. Now she realised it was neither natural nor harmless. The spectre of lifelong injury was far too close for comfort.
Tears pricked her eyes, but Ethan didn't pause for sympathy. "The solution is the sabre, Jenny. Sabres are considered symbols of evil, but here, 'evil' simply means darkness. If you practice sabre arts, the energy from darkness particles around you will enter your body naturally, merging perfectly with your own affinity. Darkness meeting darkness is harmony, not chaos. Your cultivation will become smoother, your progress swifter. It's not just logical; it's essential."
"What do I do now?" Jenny cried, her voice small and frightened. "Can anything fix this? Or am I already crippled… inside?"
Ethan's tone was comforting, confident. "You're not beyond help. The answer is to extract the chaos energy from your body, then switch to sabre arts. If you do this, your body will recover, and you can resume cultivation with harmony. You'll even find breakthroughs easier."
Jenny stared at Ethan—her fear mixing with growing trust. His words resonated more than anything she'd heard before. Yet a new doubt gnawed at her—how could a librarian, a supposed novice, know so much when her own master was baffled?
Ethan saw the question form and smiled inwardly. He had expected skeptics. But this time, he decided to play his role carefully; Jenny was his first customer, and her faith mattered.
He sighed, exaggerating his despair. "It's such a shame, really. The Academy has a treasure trove of ancient wisdom in the library—but for two centuries it's been ignored. I opened up to everyone, invited disciples to find solutions, and they refused. Foolish, really. These books—some date back two hundred years, before the war. Their value is almost immeasurable."
He paused dramatically, seeing realization flicker across Jenny's face.
She gasped. "Wait—that's how you knew the solution? You've been reading all these old books?"
Ethan nodded, his face lighting up. "That's it exactly. Luck and timing. I came across medical texts discussing elemental affinities and cultivation blockages—not just for Metal and Darkness, but every elemental combination you can imagine. You picked the perfect moment to ask."
Hope lit Jenny's eyes for the first time in days. "Big brother, can you help me? I… I'll pay anything reasonable!"
Ethan grinned, grateful for her trust and eager to fulfil his doctor's oath. If he succeeded, Jenny would be free from her pain, her cultivation restored, and the reputation of the library—and its librarian—lifted another degree.
For the first time since arriving, Ethan felt genuinely useful. Not just a caretaker of dusty shelves, but a healer, a guide, and a gatekeeper to the academy's buried wisdom.