Tan Kai and Yara Yu rooms were tucked into the cave's side—small, but cozy, with mats soft as cloud cotton and a window that let in the cave's golden glow. They rested for half an hour, sipping the mint tea Lung Phu Pha had packed, before curiosity pulled them out.
The path from their rooms wound past the glowing lotus walls, and soon they rounded a bend—and stopped, eyes wide.
It wasn't just a training ground. It was a slice of Thai heaven. Tall traveler's palms stood like green pillars, their broad leaves fanning out to catch the cave's light; clusters of frangipani hung from vines, their white petals stained yellow at the center, sweet scent floating on the air. A small waterfall spilled into a lotus pool, its water clear enough to see silver fish darting below, and the ground was paved with smooth stone carved with tiny Buddha symbols. In the distance, a few small terracotta stupas glowed softly—like someone had dotted the space with tiny, warm lanterns. Birds chirped from the traveler's palm leaves, and somewhere, a cricket trilled.
"Wow," Yara Yu breathed, reaching out to brush a frangipani petal. "It's like… a temple garden, but better."
Tan Kai nodded, staring. Then he spotted them—by the lotus pool, on a low stone bench: Master Tai Chu , and the two kids.
Master Tai Chu was leaning back, legs stretched out, a whole durian in his lap. His fingers were glistening with golden flesh, and he bit into a chunk like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted—juice dripping down his chin, which he wiped off with the sleeve of his blue robe. The boy (the one who'd fanned him earlier) sat next to him, holding a mango half, juice running down his wrist and onto his sleeve. The girl had a handful of rambutan, peeling the red, spiky skin with her teeth, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.
It was nothing like the "grumpy hermit" stories. It was messy. Human. Like a family having a picnic in the woods.
Master Tai Chu looked up, saw them, and grunted. "'Bout time. Thought you'd hide in your rooms all day." He held up a chunk of durian. "Want some? Found a tree outside the cave—sweet as honey, no bitter aftertaste."
Tan Kai blinked. He'd expected lectures, or strict tests—not a fruit feast with a celestial hermit. He felt Yara Yu shoulder shake next to him, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Wow, so this is the great Master Tai Chu ? he thought. Eating durian like a village uncle at a market stall.
Yara Yu covered her mouth, muffling a giggle. "No, thank you, Senior. We're good."
Master Tai Chu shrugged, popping another chunk of durian into his mouth. The boy leaned over and stole a rambutan from the girl's hand; she gasped, then hit him with her mango core. He laughed, ducking behind the bench, and Tai Chu rolled his eyes—though there was a small, amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Tan Kai and Yara Yu sat down on a nearby stone step, watching. The cave's glow, the waterfall's soft rush, the kids' laughter… it felt calm. Peaceful. Tan Kai thought of the villagers' stories—"Master Tai Chu's as cold as ice, never talks to anyone"—and shook his head. This wasn't cold. This was freedom. The kind of life no one in the village could imagine—no rules, no fear, just good fruit and quiet joy.
This is what a real celestial life should be, he thought. Not the Jade Emperor's stuffy palaces. This.
Yara Yu stood up suddenly. "I'll be right back," she said, before Tan Kai could ask where she was going. She walked toward the traveler's palms, plucking a few frangipani petals as she went, then vanished around a corner.
Tan Kai waited, watching Master Tai Chu finish the last of the durian. The old man wiped his hands on his robe, then leaned back, patting his stomach like he was stuffed. The kids had cleaned up the mango peels and rambutan shells, their faces sticky with juice.
Now's the time.
Tan Kai stood, walked over, and dropped to his knees with a thud. The stone was hard under his knees, but he didn't care. "Master," he said, voice loud and clear. "Please teach me. I'll do anything—train day and night, no complaints. Just… help me save my mom."
Master Tai Chu smile faded. He stared at Tan Kai, his eyes sharp again—like he was seeing more than just a boy on his knees, like he was weighing every promise, every hope.
Then another thud. Yara Yu was kneeling next to him, her hands clasped, a few frangipani petals tucked behind her ear. "Me too, Master," she said. "Teach me to control my celestial blood. Help me find my parents. I'll work as hard as Tan Kai—harder, if I have to."
The cave went quiet. The waterfall's rush seemed louder, the birds' chirps softer. The two kids stood behind Tai Chu, watching, suddenly serious.
Master Tai Chu leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked at Tan Kai, then at Yara Yu—at their tight jaws, their shiny eyes, their hands clenched in their laps like they were holding on to every bit of courage. He was quiet for a long time, so long Tan Kai knees started to ache.
Then he sighed, but it wasn't a frustrated sigh. It was a sigh like he'd been waiting for this moment, like he'd known they'd ask.
"Wanting to learn is easy," he said, his voice low. "Sticking to it? When your muscles scream, when you want to quit, when the magic feels like it'll never come? That's hard." He stood up, towering over them, his blue robe swishing. "I'll teach you. But first… I need to see if you're worth teaching."
He glanced at the waterfall, then back at them. "Tomorrow at dawn. Meet me here. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty. We start with the basics—no magic. Just endurance. If you can't handle that… you leave. No arguments."
Tan Kai heart soared. He bowed his head, forehead touching the stone. "Thank you, Master. We won't let you down."
Yara Yu bowed too, her voice steady. "Thank you. We'll be here."
Master Tai Chu grunted, turning to the kids. "You two—clean up this mess. And don't even think about touching the lotus pool—those fish still bite, and I'm not patching up any fingers."
The kids groaned, but grabbed the empty fruit baskets and trundled off. Tai Chu walked toward his chamber, his steps slow but sure, and Tai Kai and Yara Yu stood up, grinning at each other.
They'd done it. They had a master. They had a chance.
Yara Yu tucked a frangipani petal behind Tan Kai ear, laughing. "Tomorrow at dawn. Think you can keep up?"
Tan Kai laughed, rolling his shoulders like he was already warming up. "After everything we've been through? Yeah. I can keep up."
The cave's golden glow wrapped around them, warm and bright. Tomorrow would be hard. But for the first time in months, Tan Kai wasn't scared. He was ready.