The cave wasn't dark. Vaen noticed that first. It was carved out of the hill, yes, and there was a thick layer of old dust in the air, but soft glow stones lit the walls with a gentle pulse. Not flashy—more like the sleepy breathing of an older person.
And seated at the core of that dark chamber, cross-legged on an uneven stone platform, was the old man.
Vaen did not know his name. People called him "Old Scholar of the West Mountain," but titles were cheap in the cultivation world. True gravity was in what people had no courage to speak.
The old man had not uttered a sound since that time. The next silence stretched out and was awkward. Vaen waited patiently.
Then the elder took in a breath. "So, Vaen of Dravidian. Tell me what you know of where Qi came from."
Vaen blinked once. Just straight into the fire.
"Origin Qi comes from the world's breath. It's shaped by will and controlled by law," Vaen said firmly, standing straight. "However, so that one can command it, he must first know himself."
The old man snorted. "You learned that from a textbook. I wanted to know what you know, not what a cultivation manual teaches you."
So that's the kind of test this is.
Vaen crept ahead and quietly sat cross-legged on the bare floor, hands clasped on his knees. He didn't answer immediately. Not because he was being impolite—he was listening to something else. His understanding of Qi is not that great. He is a Tenebris Energy master. His understanding is limited to conceal his Tenebris Energy by transforming it into Origin Qi.
"I think. Qi is a language," he eventually said. "Every world has a dialect. The beast tribes roar it. Humans recite it. The desert tribes etch it on stone. It doesn't matter who speaks it, but how honest they are."
The old man's eyes narrowed.
A language, huh?
They didn't say anything for a while.
Then the older man snapped his fingers. From the side table, one of the ancient scrolls flew up and suspended in mid-air in front of Vaen.
"Read it," he instructed.
Vaen took it. It was old—older than the elder himself, judging by the dry material and the bizarre writing. It was not human, though. It had whirls like desert script, but the shape was like that of the General's old holographic manuscripts—twisting vertical scribbles, compact space characters.
He used more energy on his Dimensional Perception and let the symbols drop into his senses. The more he focused, the more rapidly the lines started to move.
And then he knew.
Not each word, no—but he knew what it meant. It wasn't a directory. It was a test. An intuitive construct. A map of Qi patterns that you could only comprehend by instinct.
He raised his hand and subtly focused a touch of transformed Tenebris Energy; not enough to raise alarms and developed a basic formation in the air.
The eyes of the old man snapped open.
It wasn't complex. A wind Qi spiral covered by a grounding formation, like a blossoming lotus.
"You duplicated it?" the old man breathed.
"No," Vaen replied, his tone strong. "I reconstructed it from what I felt. It's not identical."
The scroll crumbled to dust.
The old man stood up. His slender, wiry body stretched just the tiniest bit, but there was strength in the movement, like a mountain shrugging.
He paced back and forth in front of Vaen, muttering to himself. "Not human. And yet… your understanding. This kind of awareness shouldn't be possible to a being without human soul-root structure."
Vaen remained silent. He just stood there.
The old man stopped in front of him. "Do you even know what you are?"
"No," Vaen confessed.
"Then you're a more honest man than most," the old man growled. "I recall what I said first off. That I don't want to teach non-humans. That this knowledge is not for anyone but the human path."
He shook his head. "But you… you're not one thing. You've too many shadows. Too much clarity. You're a mess, boy. A mess that happens once a lifetime in the world."
Vaen's brow rose. "So, you'll teach me?"
"No," replied the old man. And smiled. "But I'll let you teach yourself."
He leaned back against his stone bench. "You'll read here. From my records. You'll take notes. You'll interpret. And if I'm feeling it, I'll correct you. If you survive, maybe I'll call you a student."
Vaen nodded once. "That's fine."
"Good. Then show me the formation again. This time."
Vaen hesitated. Just for a moment.
He carefully constructed the same formation—this time slower, more precise. The lotus bloomed again, this time with heat at its edges
The old man watched closely. "Hmm."
They sat there for hours. Vaen copied more shapes, reconstructed more tests. Some he failed. Some he passed. Each time, the old man was silent—grunting or humming only when Vaen did something different.
By the time dusk fell, Vaen had burned through most of his Qi reserves. But he was calm. He liked this kind of work—no scheming clans, no bloody battles. Just thought and effort.
The old man finally said, "Enough for today."
Vaen bowed.
"Oh, and Vaen…" the old man said just as he turned to leave.
"Yes?"
"I lied. I'll teach you."
Vaen turned slightly, surprised.
The old man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "I like problems. You're a walking contradiction, but your head's in the right place. Don't make me regret this."
"I won't," Vaen said, stepping out into the night.