Chapter 2 — Into the Righteous Sky Sect
The morning sun had barely begun to stretch its fingers over the horizon when Arin found himself standing at the edge of the Righteous Sky Sect. The towering gates, carved from ancient wood and engraved with runes that shimmered faintly in the early light, loomed above him like silent guardians of a forgotten world.
"Stay close," Master Lorian said, his voice calm but commanding. Taren and Lyra flanked Arin, their eyes scanning the forested path beyond the gates as if anticipating threats that did not yet exist.
Arin clutched the small wooden sword he had carried all his life. It felt insignificant compared to the aura emanating from the sect, yet somehow, it felt alive in his hands. The silver rings that had appeared in his eyes months ago fluttered faintly, like distant stars calling out to him.
"Do not be afraid, little one," Lyra whispered, sensing the tension coiling in his small frame. "You have been chosen for a reason."
Arin swallowed hard. "I… I just want to learn. I don't know if I'm ready."
"Readiness is not given," Taren said, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "It is forged."
The gates opened silently, revealing a vast courtyard bathed in the morning light. Students of all ages practiced in clusters, their wooden and metal swords flashing in the sun. The clang of steel and the whoosh of air created a rhythm that seemed to hum with energy.
Arin's gaze fell on a group of older boys who were practicing footwork. One of them, a tall, muscular youth with dark hair, noticed him immediately. His lips curved into a mocking smile.
"Look at the squire from Lungshen," he sneered to his companions. "Does he think he can keep up with us?"
Arin's cheeks burned. He tightened his grip on his sword, but before he could respond, a gentle voice interrupted.
"Do not mind them," Lyra said softly. "Strength is measured by skill, not by words."
The boy from Lungshen nodded, though his heart pounded. As he followed Lorian deeper into the courtyard, a small crowd of students gathered around, curious about the newcomer. Whispers floated through the air.
"Five years old and he's already… unusual?"
"Probably one of those village prodigies."
Arin tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the towering training hall ahead. Inside, the walls were lined with wooden dummies, each carved with intricate patterns that glimmered faintly with cultivation energy. The scent of incense and polished wood filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of swords.
Master Lorian led Arin to a low platform at the center of the hall. "Today," he said, "you will begin your first cultivation lesson. Do not underestimate the basics, for they form the foundation of all power."
Arin nodded, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his wooden sword.
"First, you must understand the flow of your own energy," Lorian continued, his hands moving gracefully in the air as if drawing invisible lines. "We call it Qi, the life force that connects body, mind, and the universe. Without control over your Qi, no technique, no sword, and no power can be mastered."
He demonstrated a simple stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and hands forming a loose grip around an imaginary sword. "Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Feel the energy within you. Do not force it—let it come naturally, like a river flowing."
Arin mirrored the stance, though at first, nothing happened. His mind buzzed with the voices of the older boys, taunting him from the courtyard. Village boy… doesn't belong here… weak…
"Focus," Lorian's voice rang inside his mind like a bell. "The river of Qi flows inside you, whether you acknowledge it or not. Seek it."
Slowly, Arin began to sense a warmth in his chest. It started as a gentle pulse, a heartbeat that seemed to echo through his veins. He inhaled deeply, centering himself, feeling the energy expand outward, reaching his fingers and toes. The wooden sword in his hands seemed to hum faintly, resonating with the flow inside him.
"Good," Lorian said, nodding approvingly. "Now, extend your energy outward. Imagine it like water flowing along a channel, circling your body, leaving no part untouched."
Arin's small body quivered as the sensation intensified. He could almost hear it—the whisper of swords he had first experienced months ago—soft, faint, and guiding. He moved the wooden sword slowly in a sweeping arc, feeling the Qi respond to his movements.
"Excellent," Lorian praised. "You have begun the Foundation Stance. This is the most basic cultivation technique, yet it is the bedrock of every advanced form. Master it, and your body, mind, and spirit will grow in harmony."
Just as a sense of pride began to rise in Arin, the tall boy from earlier, named Darin, stepped forward. "Ha! The village boy thinks he can control energy? Let's see how long this act lasts!"
The crowd snickered, and Arin's cheeks flushed again. His hands shook, but he remembered Lorian's words: Do not let fear control you.
Darin lunged with a wooden sword, testing Arin's reflexes. The first strike was fast and strong, but Arin instinctively moved his body, parrying the blow. A faint silver glow circled the wooden sword—subtle, but unmistakable.
The crowd gasped. Darin's eyes widened. "Impossible… how could a village boy…"
Arin steadied his breath, feeling the Qi flow more clearly now. He spun, stepping into the Foundation Stance, and moved with precision he had not realized he possessed. Another strike, parried with ease; a third, avoided entirely.
Master Lorian watched silently, a small smile on his lips. "You see, Darin," he said finally, his voice calm yet cutting through the tension like a blade, "it is not where one comes from that matters, but the understanding and control of one's own energy. Skill is earned, not inherited."
Arin, cheeks still flushed but heart racing, looked at Darin. "I… I don't want to fight you," he said softly. "I just want to learn."
Darin's expression softened slightly, though his pride still lingered. "You… you've got something," he admitted. "Maybe you're not just a village boy after all."
Lyra stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Arin's shoulder. "Remember this feeling," she said. "The Foundation Stance is the first step of your journey. Each breath, each movement, strengthens your connection to the Qi. With practice, it will guide you through every challenge you face."
Taren added, his deep voice like a grounding stone, "Do not let others' words shake you. Strength is silent, and it speaks louder than insults or doubts."
Arin closed his eyes, returning to the stance. He could feel the energy inside him now, steady and responsive, like a river flowing perfectly along its path. The silver rings in his eyes shimmered faintly, a subtle echo of the strange connection he had first discovered with swords.
Hours passed as he practiced, the morning light giving way to afternoon. He moved through the basic motions repeatedly, refining his breathing, his balance, and the flow of Qi. Sweat ran down his forehead, but a sense of calm settled over him. He was no longer merely a village boy—he was a cultivator, beginning to understand the world in a way few others could.
By the end of the day, even Darin looked at him with newfound respect, though his pride still lingered. The other students, who had whispered and snickered at first, now watched silently, some even taking notes on Arin's movements.
Master Lorian finally stepped forward. "Arin," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "today you have taken your first true step. Remember this: control your energy, understand it, and let it flow naturally. Master the foundation, and everything else will follow. Tomorrow, your training continues—more rigorous, more demanding. But I see potential in you. Never forget it."
Arin nodded, exhaustion and pride mingling in his chest. The courtyard outside seemed smaller somehow, the world no longer a simple village but a vast place of possibilities and hidden power.
As the sun began to set, casting golden light over the sect, Arin walked to the edge of the training hall, wooden sword in hand. The silver rings in his eyes spun faintly, a reminder of the path he had begun. And though he was still small, still untested in the world of true cultivators, a quiet determination filled him.
He would master the Foundation Stance. He would control his Qi. And one day, he would unlock the power that had awakened in him under the moonlight.
And the Righteous Sky Sect, silent and vast, watched over him, a world of challenge and opportunity stretching out before the boy from Lungshen.