His hand extended towards the damp earth below, fingers spread as he gently pressed his palm against the cool, moist soil. The sensation of wetness seeps into his skin, grounding him and connecting him with the ancient, life-giving essence of the earth. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, drawing in the scent of rich loam and decayed leaves—a fragrance of endless cycles of life, death, and rebirth.
As he channels a slender thread of qi, visualising it as an extension of his will, he focuses on merging this internal energy with the elemental force beneath him. The qi envisioned as a probing tendril of light, emanates from the core of his being, reaching out to intertwine with the earth's essence. Yet, the connection feels tenuous, the qi diffusing too soon, grazing the soil's surface without altering its state, dissipating like vapour caught on the morning breeze.
A flicker of frustration crosses Li Wei's expression, a subtle tightening of his jaw in the face of this setback.
"The difference between what I've read and what I'm doing... it's like night and day," Li Wei thinks, staring down at the lifeless form before him. "But I'll bridge this gap soon enough."
Li Wei refocuses, his gaze sharpening. This time, he summons his qi with greater intent, imagining it as a more robust stream, a connection flowing from his core, seeking communion with the earth. The energy extends, touching the ground with a promise of power. A faint shiver travels through the soil, a whisper of potential that teases him before fading. It's a slight improvement, an acknowledgement from the earth, though the spires remain elusive.
Adjusting his stance, Li Wei seeks a deeper connection with the ground beneath him. He delves into his qi reserves, drawing it forth with a stronger conviction. As he exhales, releasing the energy, he guides it with a clear vision, a path carved in his mind's eye that seeks to penetrate the soil. The ground responds with a soft rumble, a sign of contact, yet still, the desired spires do not materialise. Frustration flickers at the edges of his focus, but so does a growing sense of progress.
"What if I just go with it instead of imposing my will against it? It costs me nothing to try," he muses, lighting a spark of curiosity.
This time, his approach is one of partnership rather than domination. He envisions his qi as not an invader but a welcome guest, mingling with the earth's energies. The release of qi this time causes the ground to tremble more noticeably, the earth acknowledging the respect in his technique. Yet, the spires remain just beyond reach, a challenge still to be met.
Li Wei feels the latent energy of the earth around him. With this attempt, he imagines his qi as roots, reaching out for nourishment, intertwining with the essence of the soil. He directs his energy with a fluidity born of this new understanding. The soil stirs, a section of ground swelling as if to birth the spires he commands. It's a moment pregnant with possibility that collapses back into the earth, a near success that sharpens his hunger for mastery.
Li Wei senses the precise moment and place for the spires to emerge. His qi, no longer a mere extension of his will but a vibrant force in its own right, surges forth. He commands the ground to yield, and at last, it obeys. Thin, straight bone growths spear through the soil, a testament to his perseverance and skill. Each spire is a thin line, like a spider's silk protruding from the soil; they aren't that long, and their structure is not so good as they flop and fall.
"Yes, this is it! The density... the sharpness... I can alter it all!"
Li Wei selects a tree on the forest's edge, its presence commanding yet unassuming among its kin. The stalwart oak tree stands tall, its bark rough and grooved, a testament to years of weathering the elements. Its branches stretch upwards, a life network reaching for the sky, leaves rustling softly in the breeze, whispering secrets of the forest.
As he prepares for another attempt, Li Wei mentally rehearses the technique that had eluded him. "Control, not just creation. I need to manipulate these growths as if they were extensions of my own body," he muses, grounding himself in the task. "Let's do this with finesse," he resolves, a silent pledge to merge power with precision.
Kneeling, he places his hand upon the earth, the cool, moist soil greeting his touch. He focuses on the flow of qi, a familiar presence that obeys his inner command, weaving through him with a life of its own. Drawing a deep breath, he channels this force, directing it with renewed purpose.
Knowing that harmony between his qi and the earth's energy is key, he refines his approach further. This time, he envisions his qi as a master sculptor, intent on crafting not just random protrusions but precise, deliberate lines of bone from the earth. He focuses deeply, visualising the qi as it intertwines with the soil's essence, a mutual embrace that seeks to create rather than impose.
The energy he channels now feels different. When he releases it, the ground responds with eager anticipation. There's a profound connection, a sense that he's on the cusp of a breakthrough.
Under his guidance, bone lines emerge once more, their formation more deliberate, carving through the air with an assured grace.
The soil reacts with an urgency that mirrors the rapid emergence of bamboo shoots, yet on an almost imperceptible scale, akin to mung bean sprouts unfurling. The ground's surface quivers, then ruptures, as bone lines spear through with astonishing speed, slicing the air as they ascend.
They strike the oak with silent might, a faint echo of contact the only testament to their passage. At first glance, the tree stands unmarred, the attack seemingly ineffectual. Yet, on closer inspection, Li Wei notes the precision of the spires' work: thin lines piercing the trunk, passing cleanly through with ease—sharpness embodied.
Each line, barely wider than a strand of silk, stands as evidence of his growing mastery. This balance of power and finesse marks a significant step in his cultivation journey, a melding of strength with control that few can achieve.
Li Wei notices Lu Huan's wide-eyed gaze, locked onto the newly risen forest of bone spires. His eyes reflect a mix of wonder and something deeper, a recognition of witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. The awe sculpting Lu Huan's features is unmistakable; his mouth slightly agape, breathing momentarily forgotten, as if every spire unveils a new mystery.
This admiration, however, is tinged with a palpable restraint. Lu Huan remains utterly still, his usual restless energy stilled by the magnitude of what he sees. There's a respect in his stance, a hesitancy to step closer, as though an invisible boundary holds him back.
His posture holds a tension, a readiness. It's as though he's caught between the urge to move closer and the instinct to maintain his distance. He doesn't dare interrupt, doesn't dare make a sound, fully aware that he's an observer to a moment of true mastery.
Li Wei retracts the bone spires, their withdrawal as smooth as their release, and approaches the oak for a closer examination. The tree's bark, where the spires made contact, shows small, almost imperceptible entry points. He peers closer, noting how the sap begins to bead at these punctures—a clear, viscous liquid that speaks of life and resilience. The sap seeps slowly, glistening in the light, the tree's natural response to injury.
Around these fine perforations, the wood is undisturbed, the integrity of the tree holding despite the intrusion. The oak's reaction is muted, its vitality unyielding against the precise incisions. This encounter, a quiet dialogue between cultivator and nature, reveals the depth of his technique's refinement. In its stoic endurance, the tree offers silent acknowledgement of his skill, its sap a sign of life persisting, of wounds that will heal and strengthen over time.
"The tree stands, mostly unharmed. But a person...," he muses. "Should one of these spires pierce a person, it's a different matter entirely. Impalement. They wouldn't last long, and any struggle... it would only make it worse."
Li Wei stands at the forest's edge, his focus sharp, his resolve unyielding. Today, he aims to surpass his previous efforts, to weave a network of bone spires so vast and intricate that it would dwarf anything he has summoned before. He centres himself, feeling the pulse of his qi, now a torrent of energy waiting to be harnessed. With a deep, steadying breath, he reaches deep within, tapping into that reservoir of power.
He fixes his gaze on the stalwart oak, the silent witness to his growth. This time, his ambition stretches further; he envisions a field of bone, a labyrinthine expanse born of his will. The qi flows from him, not as a trickle but as a deluge, channelled with a precision honed through relentless practice.
His hands move with purpose, guiding the unseen forces at his command. The earth responds with a tremor, a prelude to the spectacle unfolding. Bone spires begin their ascent from beneath the soil, emerging like spectres at night. They are slender yet unyielding, their surfaces catching the light, casting long, eerie shadows across the ground.
"Pass the other manual and a chicken."
Lu Huan, quickly located the requested items. He handed a thick manual and a plump, white-feathered chicken to Li Wei.
Li Wei feels the warmth of the chicken's body in his hands. The open field around them is silent except for the occasional rustle of grass in the wind. The manual lies on the ground, pages fluttering gently. The chicken's heartbeat is rapid under his fingers. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation.
His finger rests on the chicken's breast. He releases a breath, extending his finger until a bone fragment emerges from the tip. The fragment is hard, an extension of his own body. He directs it into the chicken's flesh, feeling the resistance of the muscle. The chicken flinches but remains in his grip.
Li Wei's mind is clear, the connection between him and the bone fragment intense. He feels every movement as if it were his own limb. He begins to navigate the fragment through the chicken's body. His movements are slow, deliberate, each shift of the bone a careful exploration. He maps the internal landscape, aware of the fragility of the tissues.
The chicken's breathing is rapid. Its eyes are wide, feathers ruffled. Li Wei moves the bone fragment with utmost care, avoiding major blood vessels. He feels the textures inside, each one distinct under his mental touch. The experiment is progressing well, the chicken still alive, its body still warm.
Li Wei's focus intensifies. He directs the bone fragment deeper, maintaining a delicate balance. His concentration is absolute, the outside world fading away. The connection between him and the bone fragment is all that exists. He manoeuvres it gently, the process intricate and demanding.
A sudden noise disrupts the silence from inside the woods. An animal call? Li Wei can't tell. Li Wei's focus wavers. The bone fragment moves too quickly. He feels the change immediately, the resistance increasing sharply. The chicken's body tenses, its wings flapping once, twice. The fragment has pierced something vital. Blood flows around the bone, warm and wet.
Li Wei's eyes snap open. He withdraws the bone fragment, but the damage is done. The chicken's convulsions slow, then stop. Its body goes limp in his hands. He holds it for a moment, feeling the life drain away. The field is silent again, the rustle of grass the only sound.
Li Wei hurls the chicken to the ground, its lifeless body landing with a dull thud. The wound where the bone fragment entered is gaping, blood oozing out, darkening the grass beneath. He wipes his hands methodically, the warmth of the chicken's body lingering unpleasantly on his skin.
The experiment had provided crucial information. The strong connection had been severed by a moment's lapse. He inhales deeply, the fresh air mingling with the metallic scent of blood. Ready for the next attempt, he acknowledges the failure as merely a step toward mastery.
Li Wei picks up the manual, flipping through the pages. He studies the diagrams, making notes in the margins. His mind is already working on improvements, adjustments to avoid the same mistake.
The field is quiet.
He turns to Lu Huan and says, "Another." Lu Huan, eyes wide with fear, fetches another chicken from the cage nearby. He brings it to Li Wei, hands shaking.
Li Wei takes the chicken. Its body is warm in his hands, the rapid heartbeat palpable. He focuses on his finger, feeling the familiar sensation as a bone fragment emerges. He presses the fragment just beneath the surface of the chicken's skin, shallow this time. He releases the fragment, pulling his finger back.
Li Wei throws it up in the air and steps back , it flys a bit then lands, watching the chicken closely. It clucks and moves a few steps away. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the fragment inside the chicken. He can still feel it, the connection faint but present. The chicken moves further away, the distance stretching the connection.
Li Wei feels the connection weakening. He focuses harder, trying to maintain it. The chicken takes a few more steps, the connection fading. He tries to move the fragment within the chicken, testing his control. The moment he exerts force, the chicken collapses, lifeless.
The bone fragment shoots out of the chicken, propelled by the sudden release of tension, flying out of Li Wei's control radius. He feels the connection sever as it leaves his range.
He turns to Lu Huan, who stands frozen, watching the scene. Li Wei's expression remains calm. He walks over to the chicken. He inspects the body, noting the point of entry and the fatal wound.
Li Wei wipes his hands clean. He looks at the manual lying open nearby, pages still fluttering. He makes a mental note of the experiment's outcome, thinking of adjustments for next time. He knows the process, the delicate balance required.
Li Wei turns his gaze to Lu Huan. The air is thick with tension, the scent of earth and grass mingling with the weight of the moment. Li Wei steps closer to Lu Huan, who stands trembling, eyes wide with fear.
Li Wei reaches out, his hand steady, his expression unreadable. "Hold still," he commands. Lu Huan hesitates but doesn't move, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. Li Wei's finger extends, the bone fragment emerging with a soft, almost imperceptible sound.
He places his finger on Lu Huan's chest, just below the collarbone. The tip of the bone fragment touches the skin, and with a deliberate, controlled motion, Li Wei inserts it just beneath the surface, shallow enough to function but deep enough to be disastrous to remove. The fragment slips in easily, a thin line of blood marking its path. Lu Huan winces, a low gasp escaping his lips, but he remains still.
Li Wei withdraws his finger, leaving the bone fragment embedded in Lu Huan's flesh. He steps back, his eyes locked onto Lu Huan's. The connection is immediate, Li Wei can feel the fragment inside Lu Huan, the faint echo of his own heartbeat in the shard.
"Don't ever betray me," Li Wei says, his voice low and steady. "You've seen what will happen."
Lu Huan's eyes dart between Li Wei's face and the spot where the fragment is lodged. He nods quickly, his fear palpable, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Serve me well," Li Wei continues, "and I'll remove it."
Li Wei thinks of the carrot and the stick
The wind rustles the grass around them, but neither man moves. Li Wei maintains his stare, ensuring his words sink in. He feels the connection to the fragment, a constant reminder of the control he holds.
Lu Huan swallows hard, his throat dry. "I understand," he says, voice trembling.
Li Wei nods once, satisfied. He turns away, the matter settled for now. He feels the fragment within Lu Huan, a constant presence, a silent reminder of his command. The field around them is quiet again, the tension lingering but the immediate confrontation passed.
With the sky darkening, Li Wei and Lu Huan head back to the house. The path is clear, no bandits in sight. The house offers a temporary sanctuary, a place to regroup and plan the next step. Inside, the air is still, heavy with unspoken threats and the promise of future success.
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