Elder Lu paused, placing his cup of tea down on the table before giving Jiang his full attention.

  “I suppose we should begin by establishing what you already know about cultivation,” he mused. “I don’t imagine it will be much, but I always find it interesting to see how people’s preconceptions affect their progress. So, then, let’s begin by having you tell me everything you know about Qi.”

  Jiang blinked.

  “Qi is what cultivators use to do stuff,” he said bluntly.

  Elder Lu took a long, deep breath.

  “Well, the good news is, you’re not wrong.” He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “This might be harder than I thought,” he admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever taught someone who had absolutely zero knowledge before.”

  He brightened. “This might actually be fun. Alright then, from the very beginning. Qi is the lifeblood of the world. The force that governs all things. The stories are a little… inconsistent – some say that long ago, a dragon gifted Qi to the world. Others claim it was always here, waiting to be found. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Qi exists, and those who learn to wield it become something more than mortal.”

  Elder Lu let the words settle, watching him before continuing. “Every living being – even mortals – carries a trace of Qi on its own. Just enough to live, to breathe, to move. But that is not cultivation. A true cultivator does not rely on what is within but learns to draw in Qi from the world itself.” He gestured faintly, as if to the air around them. “It is everywhere. In the earth, the sky, the rivers, the flame.”

  “But not everyone has the ability to become a cultivator. There is something that sets certain people apart – some gift from the heavens, perhaps, or maybe simply something passed down through family lines. Nothing is certain – even the child of two cultivators may lack the ability to cultivate.” Elder Lu shrugged. “Either way, it is not relevant for now – judging by the fact that you are Qi-sensitive, you almost certainly have the ability.”

  Implying that there’s a chance I don’t actually have the ability to cultivate? Jiang wondered to himself. He shook his head slightly, refocusing. If it turned out he was unable to cultivate, then… well, his situation wouldn’t really be worse than it was before; it just wouldn’t be better either. He would deal.

  “Most mortals go their entire lives without ever touching Qi. Not because they lack it, but because they lack the ability to grasp it.” Elder Lu tapped a single finger against the table. “To cultivate is to reach out and take what lingers in the air, pull it into yourself, refine it, and, eventually, make it your own.”

  Jiang exhaled through his nose. That sounded like a lot of words to explain very little. “So Qi is energy, and cultivating is absorbing that energy?”

  Elder Lu looked vaguely affronted for a moment before sighing.

  “Essentially, yes. Though I have to say, your way of saying it takes a lot of the wonder and grace out of things.”

  Jiang resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Alright, so how do I start taking this energy out of the air?”

  “You don’t,” Elder Lu shot back, “Not for a good long while yet. If it were so easy to use ambient Qi, every common farmer would be a cultivator. While Qi is ever-present, that doesn’t mean it’s always present in useful quantities. The ambient Qi density tends to fluctuate, forming areas of higher or lower density. The Azure Sky Sect is located in an area of particularly high density, which aids greatly in cultivation. One of the advantages of joining a Sect is getting access to these areas.” Elder Lu waved a hand. “But I digress. The point is that Tianque is something of a Qi desert – you’re very unlikely to find a place with high enough density to be useful.”

  He paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose there are rumours that the Qi density is much higher in other places on the continent, such as the warring kingdoms of Baizhou, but that’s not particularly relevant to your situation. No, for people in your situation, the solution comes in the form of natural treasures or elixirs.”

  Elder Ly paused expectantly. Jiang pushed down his impatience.

  “And what are natural treasures or elixirs?” he asked obligingly.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” Elder Lu beamed. “Natural treasures are objects infused with Qi over time—plants, minerals, even some rare beasts. The longer they absorb Qi, the stronger they become.” Elder Lu settled back, fingers tapping lightly against the table. “They are the foundation of cultivation outside of sects. A proper treasure can serve as a focal point, allowing you to draw in Qi even in a place as barren as Tianque. Elixirs are essentially artificial treasures – they’re generally weaker, but much more stable and easier to cycle with.”

  Jiang frowned. “So I need one of these treasures or elixirs to even start?”

  “Not necessarily,” Elder Lu admitted. “It is possible to cultivate with only ambient Qi, but it is… inefficient. Slow. Without a natural source, drawing in enough Qi to ignite your dantian can take years.”

  So… that was a yes, then, he did need one of those treasures or elixers to even start.

  Jiang absently wondered if talking too much was a cultivator thing. He was self-aware enough to admit that under normal circumstances, he would find this kind of thing fascinating. Right now, though, all he could think of was that every minute he wasted was another minute his family were in the hands of bandits.

  “And these treasures—how do you use them?”

  “Depends on the type. Some must be refined. Some are consumed. Others simply need to be held nearby while meditating.” Elder Lu shrugged. “It’s part of why elixirs are generally more popular – more expensive and difficult to make, but much simpler. Even if you somehow found a natural treasure perfectly suited to your alignment, consuming it would still be painful and take weeks to months to fully process before you could consume the next. An elixir, on the other hand, would only take a day or so to recover from.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Jiang nodded. By the sounds of things he would have to try and get his hands on an elixir, then. Natural treasures might be more powerful, but his goal was simply to progress as quickly as possible. It didn’t matter if he was a weak cultivator as long as he was strong enough to do what he had to.

  “What did you mean about finding something suited to my ‘alignment’?” he asked.

  “Ah, another excellent question! Qi is not a single force—it has nature, which we call affinity or alignment. Fire, water, earth, wood, metal, lightning, even the more… esoteric varieties. The Qi you absorb at the moment of ignition determines your alignment. Absorb fire Qi and your cultivation will be attuned to fire. Absorb water Qi, and it will follow that path instead. Alignments or affinities can shift – or be shifted – but the process is generally slow, difficult, and painful.”

  Jiang considered that. “So what affinity is best?”

  Elder Lu shrugged. “None are inherently stronger than the others. Different affinities are just better suited to different things. A cultivator aligned with fire Qi will find their techniques naturally aggressive. Water Qi excels in flexibility and healing. Wood Qi is similar—both are good for longevity. Lightning Qi strikes fast and hard but is difficult to cultivate without rare treasures. Earth Qi lends itself to defence, stability, endurance.”

  Jiang absorbed that for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Alright. Where do I get an elixir? Would the merchants here have one? How much do they cost?”

  Elder Lu laughed. A quiet huff of amusement at first, then something fuller, shoulders shaking slightly. Jiang frowned, waiting for an answer.

  “Ah, I apologise, young man, that was rude of me,” Elder Lu said, shaking his head, “There is no way you could have known, but… well, you definitely can’t afford one. And no, mortal merchants in a small town do not typically sell cultivation elixirs.”

  Jiang’s frown deepened. He wasn’t entirely surprised – he hadn’t expected cultivation to be cheap – but the way Elder Lu said it, so matter-of-fact, still stung. Though, in fairness, even if the merchants here did sell elixirs, he didn’t actually have any money. In hindsight, he probably should have checked the coin stash back at home before running after the bandits, but then again, he hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind.

  Before he could ask what he was supposed to do instead, Elder Lu looked at him consideringly before coming to a decision, lifting a hand and offering Jiang a small glass vial.

  Jiang tilted his head.

  The Elder… hadn’t been holding a vial before now; Jiang was certain of that. He also hadn’t reached for it. He hadn’t opened a pouch, hadn’t shifted in his seat. One moment, his hand was empty. The next, the elixir was there.

  Jiang glanced up at him. “Where did—”

  Elder Lu smiled, tilting the vial slightly. “A trick for another time. Take it.”

  Jiang hesitated only for a breath before reaching out, the cool weight settling into his palm. He turned the vial over, rolling it between his fingers. The liquid inside caught the light, a faint golden hue, thicker than water but not quite oil.

  He could… almost feel something from the vial. It was like hearing whispers at the edge of his hearing or having a word at the tip of his tongue that just wouldn’t quite come.

  An elixir.

  Considering their conversation, it couldn’t really be anything else, and yet… why? Why was the Elder giving him this – not to mention helping him at all? He wasn’t wealthy or well-connected, and when the Elder said he couldn’t afford something like this, Jiang was inclined to believe him.

  The Elder could clearly read the hesitancy on his face. He waved a hand, unbothered by the scrutiny. “Don’t overthink it, boy. You need an elixir, and I have one to spare. A coincidence in your favour.”

  Jiang wasn’t sure he believed that, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. Without another word, he pulled out the stopper.

  Elder Lu’s hand slammed down on his wrist.

  “Okay, maybe try thinking just a little more,” Elder Lu said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “You don’t just drink an elixir and suddenly become a cultivator. Do that, and you’ll waste most of it.”

  Jiang frowned. “Then what—”

  “You need to learn how to cycle Qi first,” Elder Lu interrupted. He let go of Jiang’s wrist but didn’t move away, still watching him closely. “Elixirs aren’t infinite. That is the only one you’re getting from me, and if you use it without knowing what you’re doing, it will be a complete waste.”

  Jiang slowly re-stoppered the vial. “...Fine. How do I learn to cycle? And, for that matter, what is cycling?”

  Elder Lu leaned back slightly, seeming satisfied that Jiang wasn’t about to do anything reckless.

  “Cycling is how a cultivator refines and moves Qi through their body,” Elder Lu said. “Without it, all the Qi in the world would be useless to you.”

  Jiang exhaled through his nose. “And how do I do it?”

  Elder Lu tapped a finger against the table. “That is the difficult part. The general idea is simple: You sit, you breathe, and you guide the Qi through a cycle, drawing more in with each pass. You see, Qi calls to Qi. The moment you begin to stir it, more will follow. But getting it to move in the first place is the challenge. You will have to focus—find what little Qi exists in your body and begin to shift it, no matter how minuscule the movement. Once you succeed, you must maintain the cycle. The more you refine it, the more natural it becomes.”

  Jiang frowned. “And how long does that take?”

  “That depends entirely on you,” Elder Lu said. “Some grasp the concept in hours. Some struggle for months before they feel the first stirrings of Qi.” He tilted his head. “And some never succeed at all.”

  Jiang’s fingers tightened around the vial. “I don’t have months.”

  “No, you don’t,” Elder Lu agreed. “Which means you will have to succeed faster than most.”

  “Why do I need to learn to cycle before I drink the elixir? What difference will it make?”

  Elder Lu took a sip of his tea. “The elixir is essentially highly concentrated Qi.” He paused. “Well, no, actually, it’s not, but the explanation will suffice for now. Once you drink the elixir, it will flood your body with an excess amount of Qi, which you must guide to your dantian. If you take the elixir too soon, before you have enough control, you may not be able to ignite your dantian at all. You will need to wait until the last possible moment—preferably a day or two before the exams—so that you have time to recover, but still retain enough power to attempt your breakthrough.”

  Jiang tucked the vial into his belt. “Fine.”

  Elder Lu studied him for a moment, then leaned back. “Any other questions?”

  Jiang hesitated. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  The Elder quirked a smile. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask,” he said lightly. He sat back in his chair, taking another sip of his tea. “I’m assuming you’re the sort to want a better reason than ‘I felt like it’?”

  Jiang frowned.

  “As I thought. Very well. Tell me, what has this actually cost me?” He lifted a finger. “A few hours of my time.” Another. “Some basic advice.” A third. “And an elixir that, in the grand scheme of things, is not worth much to me. As to what I stand to gain?”

  Elder Lu drained his tea and set the cup gently down. “Well, I think that’s something you would benefit from finding out yourself. If you happen to be worried about it, rest assured that I view this as an investment.”

  Jiang narrowed his eyes slightly. “And if I fail?”

  He shrugged. “Then I’ve lost a few hours and an elixir. Hardly a devastating loss.”

  Elder Lu pushed himself to his feet, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. “Well then,” he said, tone light, “I look forward to seeing you at the entrance exams in three weeks’ time.”

  Jiang blinked. “That’s it?”

  Elder Lu arched a brow. “Were you expecting more?”

  Jiang didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, exactly—some final piece of advice, maybe. Another test. But instead, Elder Lu simply turned, stepping toward the door with effortless, unhurried grace.

  “Oh,” Elder Lu said, pausing with his hand on the frame. “One last thing.”

  Jiang straightened.

  “Don’t die before then,” Elder Lu said pleasantly. Then he slid the door open and was gone.