Khanh remained silent for a long time after his question.
The wooden room was steeped in the weary amber glow of an oil lamp; outside, the loose clinking of metal in the wind sounded almost like someone whispering. He did not take his eyes off Old Ly, waiting for an answer.
Finally, Old Ly spoke — slowly, his voice hoarse.
"I will take you to The Heaven's Fracture. But first... you must learn at least the most basic use of your spirit force. Without it, you won't even make it to the city gate before someone crushes your throat."
He pulled a chair and gestured for Khanh to sit down.
"Spirit force has three realms — Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced. The Basic is when you can summon and bend it, even just a little, to your will. The Intermediate... you can shape it, give it form, and make it touch the physical world. And the Advanced—"
He paused, his eyes darkening.
"—Few in Dai Long reach that level and still keep their lives."
For the next two days, Old Ly trained him nonstop. The first lesson was condensing breath.
"If you let it spill out recklessly like this, the moment you set foot on an upper tier, you will be questioned. And one wrong answer... means a grave."
He placed a hand on Khanh's chest, telling him to close his eyes. Khanh felt what was inside him — a chaotic mass, heavy, alternating between scorching heat and icy cold. It wasn't a stream, but something that kept cramping up in his gut, ready to burst out. He tried to suppress it. His stomach muscles tightened, sweat poured out as if he were bathing. Each time he tried to restrain it, it twitched, feeling as frustrating as having thousands of ants crawling in his bones and marrow. His head felt like it was about to explode, his breath came in gasps. The feeling was terrible, like being betrayed by his own body. What can I even achieve like this? – the thought flashed by, full of weariness.
The second lesson was transferring breath. Old Ly placed a plain wooden cup on the table.
"Push it out. Just a little bit, through your hand."
Khanh placed his hand on the cup. He tried to force that frustrating energy down his arm. It wouldn't obey. It felt like trying to punch a stone wall from inside his own body. His muscles cramped, sharp pain shooting through them. He groaned, eyes shut tight, his whole body trembling. Then suddenly, a tingling sensation, like an invisible thread, escaped from his palm. The cup shook once... then fell silent.
Is that all? Khanh let out a weary sigh, feeling drained. All that struggle just to make a cup tremble? The helplessness, the letdown, made him bitter. I'm already too used to being suppressed, being trampled. If learning this can help me escape this abyss, then I'll do anything. His body grew more exhausted, as if it couldn't take much more. It was this very despair that stifled all hesitation.
Then the thought struck him, clear and cruel as a knife slash. If... if this miserable tingling feeling, this invisible thread, could be controlled... It was fragile, elusive, almost useless. But not entirely. Images of the upper-street merchants with their bulging pouches flashed in his mind. He remembered the hunger, the cold, the indignity of coveting things he could never reach. This damned energy, it couldn't turn him into a hero, but if he was clever... it could become a third finger, invisible, to take the small things that would help him survive. Didn't Old Ly also say survival comes first? – the thought rang out like a justification. Then this is the key for me to make a living. I just need to practice until I'm proficient and faster... then it can be done.
Old Ly looked at him, his gaze seeming to pierce through the chaotic thoughts gnawing at him from within. He said nothing, only shook his head.
"This takes time. Don't be impatient."
Before the final lesson ended, the old man placed a trembling hand on Khanh's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye.
"Listen carefully. Never tell anyone your true name or your clan... unless you want to die before you see the sunlight of the upper tiers."