Jiang followed Elder Lu through the winding paths of the Sect, past towering halls and quiet courtyards where disciples moved with purpose. The further they went, the fewer people they passed. Eventually, the path led to a secluded compound nestled against the mountain slope. The wooden gates, carved with flowing script, swung open with a wave of Elder Lu’s hand.

  The compound was large, though not ostentatious. A central hall dominated the space, flanked by smaller buildings. A garden stretched along the side, its plants arranged with meticulous care. A single disciple swept the path near the entrance, bowing politely at Elder Lu and looking curiously at Jiang as they passed.

  The Elder strode inside without pause, leading Jiang to a large open room furnished with low tables, shelves lined with scrolls, and a single brazier flickering in the corner. The air smelled faintly of incense, though Jiang couldn’t place the scent. Elder Lu gestured toward a cushion near a low table and took a seat across from him.

  Jiang sat.

  For a long moment, Elder Lu didn’t speak. He just poured tea, his movements slow, deliberate. He set a cup in front of Jiang before picking up his own.

  Then, finally, he spoke. “First of all, I offer my congratulations on igniting your dantian and taking your first step along the path of cultivation. While it is – comparatively – the easiest step any cultivator will take, that does not make it insignificant, especially in such a short amount of time.”

  Jiang cleared his throat a little awkwardly. He’d never been particularly good at taking praise, even if it was earned.

  A faint smile flickered across Elder Lu’s face before he continued. “If I’m being candid, I had somewhat expected you to fail. Hoped you would succeed, of course, but hadn’t actually expected it. You had no teacher. No resources – besides the elixir I gave you, which, admittedly, was higher quality than most would receive.”

  “Ah, right,” Jiang said, reaching for his belt and pulling the elixir free at the reminder.

  “Here,” he said, pushing it toward Elder Lu. “Didn’t need it.”

  Elder Lu didn’t speak immediately. His gaze flicked from the elixir to Jiang, then back again. His expression seemed… tighter, somehow, than it was before. Then, he relaxed and, with a soft huff of amusement, picked up the elixir and placed it back on the shelf beside him. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  Jiang frowned. “About what?”

  Elder Lu studied him, lips quirking in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You just insulted me.”

  Jiang blinked. “What?”

  Elder Lu tapped a finger against the table. “You accepted a gift and then returned it, saying it was unnecessary. In cultivation circles, that is the same as telling me my generosity was worthless. That I misjudged you so badly that my aid was pointless.” His tone was mild, but there was something sharp beneath it. “You might as well have spit in my face.”

  Jiang stiffened. “I—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “I know,” Elder Lu said simply. “Which is why I’m not offended. But others would be.”

  Jiang clenched his jaw, frustration curling in his gut. He had spent years avoiding the complicated social nonsense of village life, and now he had to deal with this? “So what, I’m supposed to just take things even if I don’t need them?”

  Elder Lu gave him a flat look. “If it’s freely offered? Yes. To do otherwise is insulting.”

  Jiang narrowed his eyes.

  Elder Lu sighed. “Listen. You are in an unusual position. Most peasants who become cultivators take years to do so. By the time they succeed, they’ve been exposed to enough sect life to pick up on how things work. The ones who cultivate quickly? They’re the children of cultivators, nobles, or merchants. They already understand social structure. You, however, have neither.”

  Jiang crossed his arms. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “For starters?” Elder Lu gestured at the tea. “Drink the tea I poured for you.”

  Jiang stared at him. “What?”

  Elder Lu arched a brow. “I served you tea. You haven’t touched it since the first sip. That, too, is rude.”

  Jiang scowled and took a drink out of spite.

  Elder Lu smirked. “Good. That’s a start. Now, going back to my generous gift that was apparently beneath you,” he waved a hand before Jiang could protest, “Relax, I won’t harp on about it. Much. Anyway, how in the world did you manage to ignite your dantian without it?”

  Elder Lu studied him for a moment, and Jiang felt a faint brush of pressure wash over him.

  “I mean no offence, but I highly doubt you’re talented enough to achieve this feat without an elixir – and yet, I can clearly sense that your Qi is aligned to…” He frowned. “Something to do with shadows? It’s difficult to get a solid read on.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jiang raised an eyebrow. Elder Lu had mentioned Qi alignment when they’d first met, but he hadn’t actually considered how the massive feather would affect his alignment. He didn’t really have any preferences, but shadow at least sounded like it would be beneficial if it came down to him having to try and sneak his family away from anyone.

  “I found something,” Jiang admitted. “When I was trying to ignite my dantian. I think it was a natural treasure.”

  Elder Lu sat back with an intrigued expression. “Is that so?” he asked rhetorically. “Quite the lucky stroke. Where did you find it?”

  “In the forest. A bunch of ravens were circling, so I went to check it out. It was just… there.”

  Elder Lu cocked his head. “Ravens, you say?” He paused thoughtfully. “It’s not entirely uncommon for regular animals to be attracted to natural treasures, though generally speaking, it’s far more likely to attract spirit beasts. I would have expected you to have to fight one off, to be honest.”

  He shrugged. “Either way, well done for taking advantage of the opportunity. What manner of natural treasure was it? It may help to narrow down your alignment and inform your future cultivation.”

  Jiang shifted. “It was a feather. Almost as big as I was. It had… a lot of Qi in it.”

  Elder Lu held still for a moment. “It looked like a feather, or it was a feather?” he asked intently.

  Jiang blinked. “It was a feather,” he confirmed.

  Elder Lu closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment. “And how, exactly, did you use this feather to ignite your dantian?” he asked, his tone of voice making it clear he wasn’t expecting to like the answer.

  Jiang shifted uncomfortably again. “I… ate it.”

  Elder Lu sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if plaintively asking a higher power how anyone could be that stupid. It was an expression Jiang usually saw from his mother, and the reminder stung.

  “I only ate a little bit of it,” he said defensively, not even entirely sure what he was trying to defend. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

  “That isn’t the point,” Elder Lu snapped, then sighed, rubbing his temple. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?” He paused for a moment before some of the tension left his frame. “No, of course you don’t. I keep forgetting that you don’t know anything about cultivation.”

  Elder Lu straightened in his seat and took on a lecturing tone. “Natural treasures do not look like body parts. They look like part of nature – that’s why they’re called natural treasures.”

  Jiang tried to ignore the slightly sarcastic tone. “Animals are part of nature,” he pointed out.

  A brief sensation of pressure seemed to surround him, a feeling of disapproval. It only lasted an instant before it vanished, but the point had been made.

  “Do not interrupt me, especially when I am chastising you,” Elder Lu said sternly. “I am making allowances for your situation and lack of knowledge, but that only goes so far. And I assure you that the other Elders and disciples will not be so understanding.”

  Jiang ducked his head apologetically. He’d gotten a little too comfortable with the Elder, forgetting the vast difference in their status. He might not know all of the intricacies of talking to people higher up on the social totem pole, but it wasn’t hard to realise he’d been more than a bit rude. It was starting to feel like a habit at this point.

  Elder Lu eyed him sternly for another few seconds before continuing. “While, yes, animals are a part of nature, Spirit Beasts are not. They are creatures that have absorbed Qi and evolved beyond their mortal kin.”

  “That is not the same as a natural treasure. A lotus that grows in a place of concentrated Qi may become a natural treasure. A peach that absorbs Qi over centuries may become a natural treasure. A severed limb? A shed feather? Those are not natural treasures. They are remnants of something that lived.” His voice flattened. “Or still lives.”

  Jiang frowned. “But… didn’t you say spirit beast parts can be used for cultivation?”

  Elder Lu’s expression turned dry. “Yes. Refined, prepared, and properly utilised. You did none of those things.”

  Jiang crossed his arms. “It still worked.”

  The Elder closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaled deeply, and then muttered, “The heavens truly favour fools and the reckless.” His eyes opened, sharp once more. “Just because you got away with it doesn’t mean it was wise. You ingested something that belonged to a powerful spirit beast. Do you have any idea how many things could have gone wrong?”

  Jiang tilted his head. “It could’ve killed me?”

  “That is the least of my concerns!” Elder Lu snapped. “Death would have been quick. But what if the Qi had been incompatible? What if its instincts had forced themselves onto you? What if its will had lingered, its mind pressing into yours, shaping you into something you weren’t? Cultivation is not just about power. It is about control. The path you walk must be your own, not dictated by a lingering beast’s intent.”

  He rubbed at his temples sharply. “Even worse, this means there is a Spirit Beast out there, alive and whole, large enough to shed a feather as big as you, and strong enough that its discarded parts still hold Qi.” Elder Lu’s voice was dry. “That concerns me.”

  The Elder leaned back, folding his arms. “Did anything… strange happen when you broke through? Any visions? Surges of instinct? Anything that didn’t feel like your own thoughts?”

  Jiang hesitated. A vague feeling of a forgotten dream, of darkness and feathers, the weight of something vast watching him flickered through his mind, fading before he could fully grasp it.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, feeling like he lying without knowing why. “I don’t remember much.”

  Elder Lu made a thoughtful noise. “You may have gotten lucky, then. If nothing has happened yet, it likely won’t. The connection was likely residual, not an active bond.”

  “Residual?”

  “You used a piece of a powerful spirit beast to ignite your dantian. That means its Qi is now a part of you. That sort of thing leaves traces. Sometimes it’s nothing. Sometimes, it causes physical changes.” Elder Lu’s eyes flicked over him. “Which reminds me—”

  Jiang raised an eyebrow expectantly.

  “You didn’t notice?” The Elder huffed, amused and exasperated in equal measure. He stood, stepping over to a shelf, and pulled out a small bronze mirror. He set it in front of Jiang. “See for yourself.”

  Jiang hesitated before picking it up.

  His reflection stared back at him, familiar and not. His hair had always been dark, but now it was black – a deeper, darker black than should be possible for hair. His eyes, still brown, were deeper somehow as if the light was swallowed before it could reflect properly.

  He blinked, reaching up to touch his hair. It still felt normal, and he hadn’t noticed any changes in his vision either, so it seemed that the changes were purely cosmetic. A little concerning, maybe, but right now he had bigger problems. Jiang set the mirror down.

  The Elder arched a brow. “That’s it?”

  Jiang shrugged. “Still me.”

  Elder Lu exhaled. “You’re going to be a troublesome disciple, aren’t you?”

  Jiang smirked.

  The Elder shook his head, then sat back down. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about your next steps and some of the ways you can ensure that you have sufficient contribution points to pass the entrance exams. Then I’ll let you return to your temporary quarters.”

  Ah. Wonderful.

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