The world was dyed red.

  More accurately, the world around Yachit was dyed red, as a swirl of red energy pulsed around her form like a siren. Within this red world was a sea of bright stars, twinkling in concert to the expanding and contracting wave of crimson.

  In this red light, the second young master stood, speaking to her as she breathed in and out.

  “Breath,” he said, quietly, such that one wondered if he wanted her to hear him. His whispers were such that they would not disturb the wings of a cicada, but they seemed to pierce her innermost being, the red light growing deeper in response to him.

  “Breath is the most important thing,” he continued. “Not just your breath, but the breath of Heaven and the breath of Earth. It is only these three together that are truly Qi. To imbibe Heaven and comprehend Earth in one’s breath, that is the meaning of cultivation.”

  As he spoke the words, one of the countless stars in her red Aura rose and settled above her, increasing in its radiance as she breathed in and out. It no longer twinkled in concert with the rest but blazed perpetually, becoming almost tangible and immovable.

  Danjuma smiled at this and continued his ministrations.

  “As one unifies Heaven and Earth within themselves, so they unite their own spirit and essence. Your breath is the seal of the unity of the three. These three treasures are the pathway to enlightenment.”

  Another star left behind its constellation and stood above her, blazing like its twin. It seemed this was her limit, though, as the red energy completely dissipated the very next moment.

  “You’ve done well,” Danjuma said, looking at her.

  The pair was in a small pavilion, which was part of the second young master’s private property in the estate.

  He stood and observed as she sat down in a lotus, breath entering her lungs quietly and in a spell-inducing rhythm. Dew coalesced on her form, like she was a fig leaf in the dawn.

  This wasn't ordinary dew, but the Qi of heaven and earth drawn in by her cultivation method, apparently directed by the second young master.

  “Thank you, Lord Danjuma," she said, opening her eyes and breathing out a black mist of impurities, “but I still feel far from the sword."

  “Forging takes time," he said simply, before observing her with interest.

  "More importantly, I never expected that the Akila Family's Crimson Sea of Stars could command such powerful Yang energy. It's no wonder you rejected the clan’s cultivation manuals; they're far inferior to this.”

  She shook her head at this.

  “Surely you jest,” she said composedly, “the Dari clan is the very excellence of Yin energy; it’s only natural that Yang cultivation techniques are not a focus; he who runs after two hares at once will catch nothing.”

  Danjuma said nothing at this but merely smiled; he was evidently pleased with her tact.

  Her words were true after all. The Straight Bow Dari clan was so named after its great ancestor, who was a hunter of renown surpassed only by his skill.

  It was said that one day, he had encountered a black tiger who commanded the power of Yin perfectly. It was the first hunt that proved too much for him and, escaping with injuries, he returned to the clan with bowed head. Despite his failure, though, the encounter wasn’t without benefits as he comprehended Yin energy from his wounds, which still bore the dreaded technique of the creature.

  The clan’s prided Yin martial arts were born from this encounter, and, despite passing away after a few years (his lifespan had been shortened by his wounds), he founded the Dari clan and was well-respected by all in Reigina. This earned him the title of Martial Ancestor.

  “I wonder why I haven’t ever made this much progress before, though.”

  “That’s because today, I’m your partner.”

  Yachit didn’t understand but kept quiet, knowing that he would explain without being rushed.

  Danjuma smiled at this again and did as she expected.

  “While breath is one part of the core of cultivation, there is an equally important part…”

  He seemed to enjoy the suspense and did not explain for a while, and was further pleased when she did not betray any impatience.

  “Intent!”

  “Intent is not just desire or thoughts. Your desires come from your henti (body) and your thoughts come from your xin (mind), but your Yi (intent) combines the whole of your being towards one goal.”[1]

  “A great master said: ‘Essence, Breath, and Spirit are the three primary ingredients; and Body, Mind, and Intention are the three primary essentials.’”

  “Breath unifies essence and spirit, and intent unifies body and mind. When I spoke, I used my Qi and Yi to direct your own breath and intent and therefore bring you into perfect alignment.”

  Yachit sighed with wonder at the power of this young master. After all, despite her talent, she was merely a Troll servant. Although she would be nurtured, they could not give her the full secrets of cultivation.

  “So this is the Dual Cultivation I’ve heard so much about,” she said with wonder. [2]

  “What?!” Danjuma’s face was unnatural at her musing.

  “Is there anything wrong, sire?”

  “N-never mind,” he said, not willing to take the responsibility for explaining this; that worthless younger brother of his would have to handle it.

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  Suddenly, she was on her palms and knees in a kowtow.

  “I am truly grateful, Sire Danjuma.”

  “It’s nothing, your potential is worth nurturing, just don’t forget what you must do.”

  “I understand,” she said, still not moving from her position.

  He regarded her with approbation; her temperament had much improved in just a single session of training. More importantly, she was increasingly aware of her place in this world; his foolish younger brother had been far too loose with his servants, such that incompetence and disrespect were tolerated.

  Danjuma had never tolerated disrespect and would not abide creatures who did not know their place. Despite his frivolity and weakness against his family members, he was a Lion; a tyrant meant to tower over all of trembling creation because it was his birthright.

  “Sire,” she said, “what is the true test of a sword?”

  “To achieve victory on the field, of course.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  “What exactly is your plan?”

  “I cannot master the sword unless I sharpen myself and conquer my heart demons… I have decided to challenge the Lycan to a death match. My Chi tells me that he is tied to my growth in some inscrutable way. I have only one way to find out.”

  Danjuma rubbed his chin but did not dissuade her. A sword was a weapon, not a gardening tool after all. Anyone who has said they mastered it without slaking its taste for blood and refining it against the blade of some worthy opponent was foolish and insulted the art.

  He didn’t speak, though and walked away from the pavilion, leaving her kowtowing in her place until he was out of the area.

  The Formless embraces Emptiness,

  Emptiness holds the Three Worlds in its hands.

  Seek its origin and root:

  one grain sized as millet.

  Elijah woke up in a familiar warm bed.

  What were those incoherent words?

  It felt as though every time he was thrust into unconsciousness, he heard some bizarre words involving three something. Earlier, it was something called mercury, whatever that was, and now there was talk of three worlds.

  I need to get my head checked, he said to himself, running his hand through his rough hair.

  “The blood forge!” he shouted suddenly, knocked out of his stupor and remembering what he had been doing before…

  Before he passed out.

  He… he had failed. His eyes travelled to his dominant left hand, now covered in a brutal burn scar – such was the intensity of the blood flame. His healing factor couldn’t keep up, especially when he had used up most of his blood and Innate Energy already. He observed the brutal scar, the yellow spheres of his eyes roaming the surface of his skin like some sort of deep-water explorer, expecting to find something new on the ocean floor. He found nothing, though. Nothing but the evidence of his inability.

  This wasn’t his first failure, and was destined to be far from his last, and yet…

  Father, he thought, looking into the distance as though he could see the form of the tall, grey-bearded man as he spoke, I cannot work miracles like you can.

  The next moment, he received a glass of cold water with gratitude and only realised that it had been handed to him by the Chukwudifu heiress after he drank from it.

  “Young mistress,” he said, rising suddenly and bowing.

  When had she entered?

  She smiled at his surprise and only mentioned something vague about everyone having their secrets.

  He didn’t see any reason to interrogate this infamous eccentric and instead greeted her once more and took a seat with her permission. He really had been lost in thought just now, and he didn’t view the heiress as a threat, so it made sense that he would hesitate to recognise her presence.

  She asked how he was feeling, her eye on the scar with obvious worry.

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said casually, “just an ugly scar and a reminder.”

  Her lips contracted into a tense line.

  “I’m sorry, I wasted your material.”

  “Nothing shared with friends is wasted,” she said, reaching out for his nose and grabbing it with a disarming smile.

  To say he was shocked at this was to say nothing at all; this heiress was capable of surprising him without end, and even self-pity as invincible as his own couldn’t stand firm against her warmth and antics. He found himself smiling together with her.

  “Thank you, young mistress.”

  “Besides, it’s not yet certain that it was a waste.”

  At this remark, she presented a small sphere to him. It was metallic with a scaly grain running along its surface. It seemed to be the metal he was forging, combined with the mysterious scale the young mistress had provided.

  He stretched his hand out and tried to communicate with the metal.

  The forging process was meant to bind man and metal into one organism, allowing the Lycan to extend and manipulate the super-durable material at will.

  It stirred slightly.

  Sigh.

  It seems that he had sufficiently introduced his blood to the metal, but his energy and consciousness faded before the bond could be solidified. Now, its integrity was damaged, and it would take absurdly more energy to awaken it. Even the base had proven far above his ability, not to mention raising it higher.

  He smiled sadly at her and received the sphere in his hand. After several long moments, it broke apart into several threads and pierced through his skin, disappearing into his body, leaving a few bloody marks that soon healed.

  If the bond were perfect, he wouldn’t have needed such concentrated thought, and it could have been introduced without pain... but he couldn’t whine about it – it was still usable to some degree.

  He thanked her again and asked about her own plans for the day.

  “This lowly one has taken up too much of your time,” he said mildly.

  “Yeah, you’re such a burden,” she replied. “I’m actually supposed to be receiving guests, but I had to keep them waiting just to take care of you.”

  He apologised weakly, sensing that she wasn’t overly bothered.

  “You should be,” she chided, tapping his head with her fan as she did. “What sort of crazy alchemy was that?”

  “Alchemy?” he asked, his face squeezing like a paper ball. “Isn’t that the thing where crazy sages used to mix poisonous metals in a cauldron and swallow them?”

  “How exactly is that different from what you did?” she asked, eyeing him.

  He wanted to argue but found himself lost for words.

  There was certainly some analogy between the blood rite and the alchemical processes he had heard of, but hearing his sacred art being compared to a wackjob practice so dangerous that even the Elves (notorious for their interest in the esoteric and arcane) had abandoned it was insulting.

  Forgive me, mother, he said internally, only being partly serious, I have brought mockery to our art.

  Naturally, the blood rite art had been passed on from his mother and was meant to be carried out under her supervision after his second growth phase, but seeing as the situation had evolved into what it had, he could hardly help it.

  Hopefully, I survive long enough for her to help me next time.

  “So, what guests are you meant to be hosting? I’m fine now, so you don’t need to keep them waiting any longer.”

  I don’t want to talk to a plebeian who compares our high art to poison-drinking madmen.

  “If you’re fine, then you should come with me; you’re part of tonight’s entertainment after all.”

  “What?”

  [1] The actual word for body used in internal alchemy texts is similar to the word for spirit, so I used the more modern "Shen-ti" to avoid confusion.

  [2] Dual Cultivation means a man and woman exchanging their Yang and Yin energies by way of intercourse.