Lu Bu fell into the rhythm of his run, his breathing a steady drumbeat matching the thud of his feet on the packed earth. The heavy stone weights strapped to his back, which would have crippled a team of oxen, were a familiar pressure, a comfortable burn in his muscles. This was his normal now.

  His mind drifted back to the beginning, to the early days of Uncle Kai's training. It had been brutal in a different way—less about raw weight and more about agonizing stillness. Hours spent holding the Falcon's Dive stance, his legs screaming in protest, while punching the empty air until his shoulders felt like they were filled with ground glass. He’d had to chant cultivation verses through gritted teeth, his voice growing hoarse. It had been less about building power and more about breaking a boy’s will and reforging it into something disciplined.

  But he’d never quit. There was always something at the back of his head, a deep, instinctual whisper that was less a thought and more a primal urge: Keep going. Push harder. This is the path. It was a compulsion, a drive he didn't understand but had always obeyed.

  The change came when that whisper seemed to guide his qi for the first time. During one of those endless stance-holdings, as the fire in his thighs became unbearable, he felt a cool energy—the qi he’d been learning to cultivate—trickle from his dantian. Instead of letting it cycle, he instinctively pushed it down, channeling it directly into the screaming muscle fibers. The effect was instantaneous. The pain didn't vanish, but it transformed. The burning fatigue became a warm, buzzing vitality. It was like replacing water with oil in a burning lamp; the flame burned brighter and cleaner.

  From that moment on, everything changed.

  Physical training was no longer a punishment. He began to crave the strain, to chase the moment where his body would signal its limit, and he could answer with a surge of spiritual energy. The feeling that followed was an intoxicating high—a euphoric clarity where his body felt both utterly spent and infinitely powerful. Combined with that constant, nagging whisper pushing him ever forward, the cycle became addictive.

  The burn, the qi, the rush. It was a feedback loop of empowerment, and with each lap around the caldera, each heavier weight, each higher jump, Lu Bu felt himself ascending, inching closer to the destiny he knew, with every fiber of his being, was his. He would become the greatest warrior there was and make his uncle proud.

  Even when Uncle Kai delayed teaching him new techniques, Lu Bu found he didn't mind as much as he once might have. The extra time was a gift. It gave him space to refine what he already knew to a razor's edge, to deepen the connection between his qi and his muscles, and—most excitingly—to experiment. In the absence of prescribed forms, his own creativity began to bloom.

  The boy slid to a halt, his breathing controlled despite the miles he'd covered. He unstrapped the massive weights with a grunt, setting them down with a thud that sank them slightly into the soft earth. Without pause, he sank into the Ox Bulwark Stance, his feet planted wide, his center of gravity dropping like an anchor. It was a foundational technique, one of the first Uncle Kai had taught him months ago for generating power from a stable base.

  As he began moving his arms through the prescribed punches, his body remembered the motions, but his mind was actively dissecting them. He was a prodigy, and a prodigy's mind doesn't just accept; it seeks optimization. He had noticed subtle inefficiencies—a slight tension in the shoulder that wasted energy, a hip rotation that could be initiated a fraction of a second sooner for greater force.

  His thoughts drifted to Chen Gong's constant, fervent whispers. His brother-in-training was always going on about how Uncle Kai was a great, secret sage, and that by withholding advanced techniques, he was forcing them to think for themselves and forge their own path. Chen Gong was, of course, completely wrong about Kai's motivations, building vast, intricate myths out of simple actions. But Lu Bu had believed his brother's words about his uncle. He latched onto it, believing it was exactly what his wise uncle intended, even if the reasoning was fabricated.

  So, he took it as his mission. He would improve. He would make the path his own.

  Focusing intently, Lu Bu adjusted his stance. He widened his feet just a hair, finding a more natural alignment for his frame. He modified the arm movement, syncing the punch not just with the hip, but with a controlled exhalation and a subtle pulse of qi that traveled from his dantian down to his fist, a refinement he'd discovered during his solo training. The revised motion felt smoother, more direct. The power it generated was undeniably increased.

  He threw a punch into the empty air. There was no target, but the sound was different—a cleaner, sharper crack than before. And with it, a slight gust of wind whipped forward, stirring the dust at his feet. It was a small thing, but to Lu Bu, it was everything. Proof that he wasn't just following a path; he was making it wider and stronger for himself. A fierce, proud smile spread across his face. He was living up to the grand, if mistaken, expectations Chen Gong had set for Uncle Kai's disciples, and in doing so, he was surpassing the very lessons he'd been taught.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Satisfied with the refinement of the Ox Bulwark Stance, a surge of triumphant energy coursed through Lu Bu. The slight gust of wind from his punch was a tangible reward, a secret sign of his growing prowess. With a grunt of effort that was more eagerness than strain, he hefted the massive stone weights back onto his shoulders, settling the familiar burden into place.

  He launched back into his run, his powerful legs driving him forward. He wove through the ancient, towering trees of the caldera forest, moving with an unexpected agility despite the weight. He didn't go around boulders; he used them as stepping stones, leaping from one moss-covered surface to the next with explosive power, the weights making each landing a resonant thud that echoed through the quiet woods.

  Soon, the familiar fire began to bloom in his quadriceps and calves again. But instead of discouraging him, the sensation was like a trigger. This was the feeling he craved. The burn was telling him he was growing stronger and that the boundaries of his endurance were expanding. The pain wasn't an enemy to be avoided; it was spurring him to push harder, run faster, leap further. Each searing step was a challenge, and Lu Bu was a disciple who never, ever backed down from a challenge.

  As he ran, the rhythmic pounding of his feet and the roar of blood in his ears became a mantra, stripping away all conscious thought. In that state of pure, physical exertion, Lu Bu felt it again—that deep, instinctual shift within himself. It was the same nagging whisper that had always lived in the back of his skull, the relentless drive that pushed him when his body screamed to stop, the unwavering certainty that he was destined for greatness.

  But this time, it was different. The feeling didn't just whisper; it grew, swelling from an impulse into a palpable force. It bloomed behind his eyes, a pressure that built until the world around him—the trees, the sky, the weight on his back—seemed to waver and fade. Then, in a silent, internal explosion, the pressure broke, and comprehension flooded his mind in a wave of stunning clarity.

  Suddenly, he was no longer in the caldera.

  A vision unfolded before him, vivid and grand. He saw a giant of a man, a veritable titan clad in ornate, blood-red armor that gleamed under a harsh sun. In his hands, he wielded a guandao so massive its blade was like a crescent moon of polished steel. This warrior was a whirlwind of destruction on a chaotic battlefield, charging into ranks of enemy soldiers without a shred of fear. He was an unstoppable force, his martial prowess so absolute that he seemed less a man and more a natural disaster given human form. The ground shook with his passing, and the air itself seemed to part before him.

  And in that moment, Lu Bu understood. This was not a mere daydream or an aspiration. This was a glimpse of a possible future, a path his life could take. The towering warrior, the unmatched strength, the legendary weapon—it was a reflection of his own potential, fully realized.

  The vision lasted only a heartbeat, but its impression was seared into his soul. As it faded, returning him to the familiar path of his run, the burning in his legs felt different. It was no longer just fatigue. It was a forge-fire, and he was the blade being tempered. The whisper in his mind was now a clear, resonant voice. It was the voice of the warrior in the vision. It was his own voice from a future he now knew.

  The final piece clicked into place in Lu Bu's mind. The constant drive, the instinctual knowledge, the sudden, vivid vision—it all made sense. He remembered the terrifying, powerful visitor, Kuro, and the cryptic words he'd spoken about the Dao. Kuro had said that the understanding you get from the Dao was something you just knew. Reality itself would reveal its secrets to you in accordance with your nature.

  This was it. This feeling wasn't just ambition or talent. It was his Dao.

  The realization sent a wave of pure, unadulterated joy crashing over him. A huge, goofy, and utterly unguarded smile broke out across his face, replacing his usual look of fierce concentration. He skidded to a halt, kicking up a spray of dirt and pebbles. He had to tell Uncle Kai! His uncle, in his infinite wisdom, had been guiding him toward this very moment all along, even if neither Lu Bu or Kai hadn't understood it.

  Abandoning his training run, he turned and shot back towards Azure Sky Haven, his speed now fueled by exhilaration rather than discipline. As he ran, he felt a remarkable change within his body. The qi that usually flowed through his meridians with the powerful, sometimes turbulent, force of a mountain river now moved with the smooth, effortless certainty of a deep ocean current. The new comprehension settling in his spirit was already harmonizing his energy, making every movement more efficient, every breath more potent. He wasn't just running; he was gliding, each stride carrying him closer to sharing the revelation that he had finally found the true path he was born to walk.

  Lu Bu was intent on becoming the greatest warrior to make his uncle Kai proud.

  (Author's Note: Just putting this here for when a bot scrapes and repost without my permission. Hey there! You're reading a story by me, Saberfang. This was likely taken from royal road or scribble hub. If you like my work please read it on those websites or on patreon at patreon.com/user?u=83747391)

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