A little later, in Jasmine Garden's private training grounds, Riven stood alone in the open, his uneven black hair streaked in blue and green tousled even more from the wind.
His left foot shifted forward slightly.
Then slowly his right leg bent, qi got pulled out from his body's qi storage — the dantian — and flowed sharply toward his right leg.
He moved.
The motion was clean, sharp. His body coiled like a spring, then snapped forward in one explosive surge.
The qi surged down through his thigh, timed with the forward extension of the leg.
Just before his knee straightened, he pushed — trying to burst qi out through the back of his calf.
The air blurred with motion. The courtyard snapped with force.
And then the timing slipped.
The qi didn't quite sync. It hit a moment too late — off-beat, off-balance. His kick overextended, pulling his weight forward without anchor.
Riven's eyes widened.
"Sh—"
He hit the ground with a solid thump.
The right half of his body skidded across damp earth,
leaving a shallow trail in the dirt before he finally came to a stop.
His robes — already stained from earlier — picked up a fresh splash of mud. Not that it made much difference. Half the sleeve was already dark with smears, and the fabric around his knees had taken on a permanent dust-brown.
This wasn't the first time he'd fallen.
Since picking up the skill at the Martial Skills Pavilion, nearly two hours had passed.
After skimming through the basic theory, he'd come straight here and started practicing.
With… limited success.
The scroll had made it sound simple:
"At the moment the leg begins to extend, release a burst of qi through the pores on the back of your lower leg to accelerate the kick."
Straightforward enough on paper.
But in practice…
Riven's eyes swept over the trampled mess of his once-pristine training field — flower petals, torn roots, uneven scuffs gouged across stone and dirt.
If only it was as easy as it sounded...
Still, he pushed himself upright with a grunt, wiped his dirty sleeve across his cheek – not the smartest move - and readied his stance again.
Left leg forward. Right leg bent.
Focus the breath. Pull from the dantian. Guide it down—
He kicked.
Spectacularly normal.
No increased speed. No nothing.
Not even another fall headfirst into the ground.
He blinked. Frowned. Tried again.
Still nothing.
He tensed his core. Reached for the wellspring in his lower abdomen, where the dantian was located—
but there was no pressure, no stir, no heat.
Just… empty space.
The realization hit with a tired exhale.
He'd burned through all his qi.
Of course he had.
Qi wasn't endless.
Every time he tried the kick, he used it.
Every burst, every failed attempt — even if it was small, it still added up.
And for Riven's limited qi pool, that was enough to drain him empty.
He sighed and turned back toward his residence.
A few steps later, he pushed open the door with his foot and stepped inside, making way for his room.
As always, once he entered his room, that same crooked lantern on the wall greeted him — still leaning slightly to the left like it had a grudge against symmetry.
But he didn't care about that right now. There was another problem.
He looked towards the bed, then down at himself.
He couldn't sit on his bed like this.
Then he remembered something, a formation embedded into his robes to clean themselves. He just needed to direct qi towards it.. direct qi.. qi?
Nothing happened.
Right. He was still out of qi.
I'm stupid.
With not much other choice, he sat on the floor instead — legs crossed, back straight, hand resting lightly on his knee.
It was time to get his qi back.
Every cultivator had a space deep in their lower abdomen called the dantian — the center of their cultivation.
That's where personal qi was stored.
It worked like a wellspring.
A sealed pool of energy, surrounded by an invisible boundary.
Over time, it could slowly refill on its own — like a spring dripping back into a drained basin.
But left alone, it would never grow.
That was the catch.
To push past that limit — to expand that boundary — you needed a cultivation method.
His was the Frozen Gale Codex.
It let him pull qi from the environment and make it his own.
As he focused, the ambient qi particles began to stir.
Drawn toward him.
Drawn inward.
A faint pressure formed behind his sternum — not painful, just present. Like the feeling of standing in cold air. His skin prickled.
But the Codex didn't care. It guided the qi through precise patterns, refining it, softening it, making it his.
And as that happened, his boundary — that invisible seal around his dantian — slowly stretched.
Right now, his qi reservoir was small.
Tiny.
Maybe the size of a pebble.
But if he cultivated like this every day…
If he refined qi…
Eventually, that reservoir would grow.
First to the size of a stone.
Then a fist.
Then more.
And when it reached that first threshold —
He'd step into the mid-stage of the Inner Essence Realm.
But for now, before he could grow it…
He had to fill it again.
So he sat.
Breathed.
Focused.
Slowly, the drifting particles of qi around him began to gather — faint motes pulled in by the rhythm of his breath and the flow of the Frozen Gale Codex.
One by one, they sank into his body.
Until they joined the pebble-sized core in his dantian.
It didn't take long.
Eventually, his reservoir filled once more — glowing faintly with two separate hues.
Green and blue.
The green was wind qi — fast, sharp, agile.
The blue was water qi — cool, fluid, adaptable.
Together, they pulsed in balance.
A strange symmetry, flickering softly like twin embers pressed together.
Most cultivators could only draw one element easily.
Some had to brute force whatever came to them.
But Riven's affinity leaned very strongly toward wind and water — a rare dual affinity, and the reason he'd chosen the Frozen Gale Codex in the first place.
He exhaled as he stood up.
With his qi filled again, he could finally do what he'd meant to earlier —
Clean his robes.
He drew a thin strand of qi from his dantian…
Then guided it outward, into the cloth, just behind the collar — where the formation was inscribed.
A second passed.
Then, as if tugged by an invisible thread, the qi flared.
A faint shimmer rippled across the fabric — like a wave passing over water.
And just like that, the dirt vanished.
Mud, sweat, dust — all gone.
Evaporated into the air in a faint breath of heat, leaving the robe crisp and clean once more.
Riven glanced down at himself.
"Convenient."
He moved over to the bed and sat down cross-legged. This time, on top of the mattress.
He wanted to cultivate more.
The trial wasn't far off — and he already started later than the others.
So he closed his eyes again.
Slowed his breath.
Reached for the flow.
The wind and water elements responded, coiling through him like threads drawn toward a needle.
He didn't rush it.
Didn't force anything.
Just breathed.
Felt the pressure build.
The boundary around his dantian pressing out — not much, but there.
Barely perceptible.
But enough.
Most disciples would take days. Weeks.
Months, probably.
But he had a feeling he'd improve faster.
He shifted his breath again.
More wind. More water.
Then—
Grrk.
His stomach made a sound like a dying frog.
Very loud.
Very insistent.
Riven's eye twitched.
"…Right. Food."
>>>
He left his room, heading down the path that led to the storage room just off the main hall.
Inside, the shelves were mostly empty — the sect didn't exactly spoil its disciples — but they also didn't neglect them. Tucked in a basket at the bottom was a bunch of small loafs, cold but edible.
With not much hesitation he grabbed one and bit in.
The crust was tough, the inside just soft enough. It almost tasted great. But then again, maybe he was just that hungry.
Still with bread in mouth he turned to leave—
And nearly walked straight into someone.
Riven jerked back.
Mira stood directly in front of him.Silent. Unblinking. Barely a pace away.
How the hell—?
He froze, the half-eaten loaf still stuck between his teeth.
How is she this quiet? She's a maid, not an assassin. Come on. Was that really necessary?
"…Hi, Mira?" he tried, voice a little too casual.
She didn't answer the greeting.
"A disciple came by," she said. "Your master sent a message."
Riven blinked. Of course. Back to normal Mira — not whatever ghost possessed her to offer towels last time.
"Kael?"
She nodded. "He wants to see you."
Of course he does.
Riven exhaled slowly, chewing the last bite.
Just thinking about him made his skin crawl.