Han Wei had set a punishing schedule for himself again now that he was training disciples.

  His morning began with training his disciples in martial arts. He started the training in the grotto, running them through body strengthening drills, stretches and flexibility exercises both inspired by his previous life as well as ones he could remember from the small flashes he had of his own training.

  The energies in the grotto passively seeped into all of their bodies during this practice, and Han Wei intended to capitalise on this as much as possible.

  After this warm-up he moved them to a smaller courtyard that had enough open space to let them train their martial arts. He had thoroughly studied the martial manuals that Tie Zhu and Lan Feng had chosen and was confident in his ability to correct their stances and movements even if he wasn’t confident in performing them himself.

  However Xiao Lan used her family’s personal style and it was one he was not familiar with. Not being able to tell the difference between flaws in her practice and quirks of the style that would only make sense in later realms, he was forced to let her mostly practice by herself.

  After a few hours of this he dismissed his disciples to rest and recover, and spent some time running through his own personal martial arts.

  He knew that he couldn’t rely on his muscle memory or instinct if he ever got into a fight, any instinct that he had would be relying on him being faster, stronger, and tougher than he was now his cultivation was lowered.

  He initially hadn’t expected that his cultivation losses would also impact his martial skill, but he was determined to make up for the change.

  His afternoons he spent in the various sect libraries, alternating between shoring up his basic knowledge of cultivation practices, disciplines, and crafts, with searching for anything that could help him recover his cultivation.

  In the late afternoons he activated the gathering arrays on his compound and supervised the cultivation of his disciples. He made sure that they were always improving in their comprehension or application of their methods and offered guidance on ways they could improve.

  Then he had his own cultivation. First spiritual, then soul. Ever since his soul had recovered as far as it would with the Whispering Willow Soul Blossoming Sutra, the toll it took on him was lessened significantly.

  He still had to spend a few precious hours sleeping to recover afterwards, but thankfully he was no longer forced to waste the entire night in sleep.

  The night hours he had claimed back were then used to train martial arts again, but this time practicing his student’s styles. He was managing to train them now with simple correction from the manuals, but as their realms advanced he would need much deeper insight - insight that would only come through learning the arts himself.

  The morning would come and his routine would begin again.

  The days passed like this and Han Wei could feel himself being worn down. His cultivation base was strong enough to support this level of activity, but the sheer mental energy involved was intense. He knew that it wasn’t sustainable, but what could he cut back?

  If anything he was worried that he wasn’t doing enough.

  One afternoon found Han Wei back in the Technique Pavilion, a place he loved for its quiet reverence, towering shelves filled with scrolls, manuals, and ancient tomes, and air thick with the scent of aged parchment and spiritual energy. He was beginning to hate it there.

  He stood in the dimly lit hall, his fingers tracing the spines of the scrolls as he searched for something - anything - that could help him understand Xiao Lan’s martial art.

  He had spent the better part of the morning scouring the sect’s collection of bladed fan arts, but the manuals were sparse and rudimentary. The Silvermist Ravine Sect was not known for its expertise in such niche weapons, and the few manuals they had were little more than basic forms and crude diagrams. None of them came close to the elegance and complexity of Xiao Lan’s family techniques.

  Frustrated, Han Wei moved to the section on wind-based martial arts. If he couldn’t find a direct match for her style, perhaps he could piece together something from the broader principles that underlay it.

  “Too rigid,” he muttered after skimming the first one, he set the scroll aside and reached for another. This one focused on speed and evasion, its movements light and unpredictable. It was closer to what he needed, but still not quite right.

  Han Wei sighed, running a hand through his hair in a way that was fast becoming a habit. How am I supposed to train her if I don’t even understand her art?

  He sat down at a nearby table, spreading out the scrolls he had gathered. The bladed fan manuals were laid out on one side, their crude diagrams a stark contrast to the precise strikes and swift cuts that they were attempting to display. The other side was the wind-based martial arts, their flowing forms and powerful strikes a world apart from the precision of the fans.

  As he studied the scrolls, he began to notice small similarities with Xiao Fan’s arts. The spinning strikes of the fan techniques shared a common ancestor with the cutting movements she used and circular motions of the wind arts sometimes echoed her footwork. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  He grabbed a blank scroll and began to sketch out his ideas, his brush moving quickly as he mapped out the movements. The spinning fan strikes became chaotic gusts of wind, their arcs flowing across and through the circular motions of the wind arts. The sweeping slashes of the fans were adapted to mimic the sudden bursts of speed and changes in direction that characterized the wind.

  It was rough and unpolished, but Han Wei could see the potential in it. If he could refine the movements, he might be able to create a style that was both elegant and powerful. It wouldn’t be exactly the same as Xiao Lan’s art, but if it was close enough he would be able to guide her through the lower realms.

  As the hours passed, the pile of scrolls on the table grew, and Han Wei’s sketches became more detailed. He experimented with different combinations, testing the movements in his mind and adjusting them as needed.

  That night, as he stood in the grotto practicing the new style, Han Wei felt a flicker of excitement. The movements were still rough, but they had potential. Even if he didn’t recreate Xiao Lan’s style, he could still be creating a whole new art here.

  Han Wei’s muscles moved swiftly and surely, energised by his brief rest after his cultivation practice. He pushed himself to learn these new movements, if he could master them in a night then he could refine them during his next trip to the library.

  Hours passed, and the moon began its descent. As dawn approached, he finally allowed himself a moment of rest.

  He retreated to his grotto and sat cross-legged on one of the larger stones that dotted the courtyard. It was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, the only sound was his breath. His thoughts turned to Lan Feng.

  The boy had struggled during their meditation session earlier that day. His shadow cultivation required a deep connection to his spiritual roots, but Lan Feng’s self-doubt held him back. Han Wei had seen the hesitation in his eyes, the way his hands still tightened as he tried to channel qi.

  He needs more than just techniques, Han Wei thought, he needs confidence.

  The memory of their conversation lingered in his mind. Han Wei had knelt beside Lan Feng, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Meditation isn’t about forcing the energy to flow,” he had said. “It’s about finding the stillness within yourself and guiding it. The qi is already a part of you. You just need to trust it.”

  Lan Feng had nodded, but his eyes remained uncertain. Han Wei knew it would take time, but he was determined to help the boy find his footing.

  The sound of footsteps pulled Han Wei from his thoughts. He turned and was surprised to see Lan Feng standing at the edge of the grotto, as if summoned by his thoughts.

  “Sorry master,” the boy said, bowing deeply. “I didn’t mean to disturb your cultivation. I just woke early and thought I might… practice.”

  Han Wei nodded, gesturing for him to join. “Come. Sit.”

  Lan Feng obeyed, settling onto a patch of ground nearby his master. The two sat in silence for a moment, the cool night air wrapping around them like a blanket.

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  “Do you remember what I told you earlier?” Han Wei asked.

  Lan Feng nodded. “About finding the stillness.”

  “Good. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Feel the qi around you and feel the qi inside you.”

  The boy obeyed, his breathing slow and steady.

  “Take in qi now, slowly, and feel it change. Don’t focus on truly cultivating for now, just draw in the qi and observe.” Han Wei watched as Lan Feng drew in qi for a time. He wished he could use his divine senses to see what the qi was doing, but activating the gathering array now would be detrimental.

  “What do you see, Lan Feng? What is the change that is happening to the qi as you draw it in?”

  “It is… becoming mine.” Lan Feng seemed astounded by this simple concept.

  “Good,” Han Wei said softly and waited until the boy was finished processing this revelation until he continued. “Remember, cultivation is as much about the self as it is about qi. Doubt is natural, but it doesn’t define you.”

  Lan Feng looked up at Elder Han, and for the first time, Han Wei saw a glimmer of determination in them. “Thank you, master.”

  Han Wei placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, remembering the fears revealed by the Mirror of False Reflection. “Cultivation may be called a lonely climb, but you are not alone. You can rely on me for help for as long as I am your master.”

  As the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, Han Wei felt a sense of hope. His disciples were growing, and so was he.

  He stood, stretching out the slight stiffness in his muscles. His other disciples would be waking soon and the day ahead would be long, but he felt ready to face it with newfound energy.

  Later, when the sun was high enough to cast golden light over the walls of his dwelling. Han Wei watched as Tie Zhu stood in the center of the training yard, his spear gripped tightly in his hands.

  The boy’s movements were stiff, his strikes lacking the fluidity and precision that came with natural talent. Sweat dripped from his brow as he repeated the same basic thrust over and over, his frustration evident in the set of his jaw.

  Han Wei approached quietly, observing for a moment before speaking. “Tie Zhu,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

  The boy froze mid-thrust, lowering his spear and turning to face his master. “Master Han,” he said, bowing slightly. His face was flushed, a mix of exertion and embarrassment at the reprimand he heard in Elder Han’s tone.

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Han Wei said. “You need to allow yourself time to rest and recover before you train more. Cultivation and martial arts are not about speed, but perseverance. Talent can take a person far, but it is discipline that will carry you to the peak.”

  Tie Zhu’s grip on his spear tightened. “But the others… Xiao Lan is so far ahead and Lan Feng is progressing so fast. I can’t even get this basic form right.”

  Tie Zhu looked down, his expression conflicted. “I just… I don’t want to fall behind.”

  “Comparing yourself to others will only ever bring you pain - even if you are comparing yourself favourably.” Han Wei said firmly. “Sabotaging yourself by reinforcing the mistakes caused by tiredness is not the path to success.”

  The boy nodded, though his eyes still held a flicker of doubt. Han Wei could see the determination burning within him, but also the fear of failure. It was a familiar feeling - one Han Wei himself had wrestled with since his rebirth.

  Over the next few days, Han Wei noticed Tie Zhu’s relentless drive had not dimmed, but he was at least pacing himself better. The boy trained twice as much as the others, rising with the dawn to cultivate before martial training and staying late into the night to practice his spear forms after cultivation practice.

  Han Wei often found him in the grotto in the early morning hours, his face resolute as he channeled spiritual energy through his body.

  One morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, Tie Zhu’s cultivation reached a critical point. A sharp, metallic tang filled the air causing Han Wei to look over in concern.

  Concern that increased when Tie Zhu’s body stiffened in obvious agony.

  Han Wei quickly realised that this was the side effects of the Unbreakable Bastion Ironblood Forging Method kicking in and that it signaled the boy’s advancement into the mid Qi Gathering realm.

  Tie Zhu focused on breaking through, aware that faltering now would be failing at the first step. The pain was excruciating, far beyond the discomfort he had felt when first starting the method. His veins bulged, and a low groan escaped his lips, but he didn’t let up. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he endured.

  Han Wei watched from a distance, his heart heavy but proud. He knew the pain Tie Zhu was experiencing was the price paid for the speed of cultivation in the steel body method. Few could endure it, but Tie Zhu refused to give up as he reforged the body through sheer willpower.

  When the pain finally subsided, Tie Zhu collapsed onto his side, his breathing ragged and his body drenched in the foul contaminants his body had expelled.

  Han Wei approached, ignoring the stench. “You did well,” he said quietly. “That pain is a testament to your strength. Remember it.”

  Tie Zhu looked up, his eyes bloodshot but filled with determination. “I won’t stop,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll keep going, no matter what.”

  Han Wei nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I know you will. Now go clean up.”

  Meanwhile, Xiao Lan’s frustration was growing as the days passed. Her cultivation was progressing, but her martial arts felt stagnant. She couldn’t trade pointers with Tie Zhu or Lan Feng - they were too far behind. And Elder Han… he seemed to spend all his time with the other two, leaving her to practice alone.

  She had always been ahead of her peers, something that was simply expected of her throughout her noble upbringing, but she had always had tutors and trainers to support her. She was suddenly being left to learn on her own while she saw her fellow disciples getting the training that she needed too.

  One morning, as Han Wei was guiding Lan Feng through his sword forms once more, Xiao Lan approached, her bladed fans clenched tightly in her hands.

  “Master Han,” she said, her voice tight. “Will you guide me in my arts next? Sparring with Lan Feng and Tie Zhu is not teaching me anything.”

  Han Wei turned to her, his expression calm but assessing. “Patience, Xiao Lan. Mastery takes time.”

  “Master,” She paused trying to find the words. “I feel as if I’m no longer improving.”

  Han Wei studied her for a moment, then nodded. He knew he was failing her, but he wasn’t confident in his ability to critique her martial arts yet. He would have to do something drastic to delay her.

  “Very well. If you’re so eager to improve, we shall spar. I’ll restrict myself to your level of cultivation and only defend. If you can land a single hit on me, I’ll increase your training.”

  Xiao Lan’s eyes lit up with determination. “Thank you master.” She didn’t have any delusions about being able to win against an elder of the sect, even when they were purposefully suppressing their cultivation, but landing a single hit?

  She had trained in her family style since she was six and if she wasn’t limiting herself with defense then she was certain that she could at least graze her master.

  Han Wei meanwhile had no intention of suppressing his cultivation fully - he’d suppress himself down to the peak of Qi Refining and deliberately slow his movements. The deception grated on him, but there was no way his disciples would be able to tell, and losing the spar instantly because he couldn’t react in time would end badly for everyone.

  The two moved to the center of the grotto, the other disciples eagerly watching from the sidelines. Xiao Lan wasted no time, her fans slicing through the air with precision and speed.

  Han Wei moved easily out of the way, his steps light and fluid - purposefully slowed to appear in a lower realm. His preferred martial arts focused on fast offence and counter attacks on defending - a style that didn’t fit at all with his needs for this spar.

  He decided to try out the new movements he had been working on as he attempted to recreate Xiao Lan’s style.

  The combined movements from the bladed fan manuals and the wind-inspired martial arts were now the beginnings of a whole new style that was unpredictable and elusive.

  At first, it was a little awkward and he had to use his higher cultivation level to smooth over the errors. The style was still rough around the edges, and there were moments when his movements felt disjointed. But as the fight progressed, he began to refine it, adapting to Xiao Lan’s attacks and finding ways to make the style more cohesive.

  When she lunged at him with a spinning strike, he shifted his weight, letting the momentum carry him out of harm’s way. When she tried to trap him with a series of rapid slashes, he used the flowing movements to create distance, his body moving like a leaf caught in a gust.

  Han Wei suppressed his cultivation further, down to early Qi Refining. He was still able to react easily to her movements, able to dodge out of the way, and this would be fairer after all.

  It wasn’t because he was having fun.

  An idea began to form in his mind. What if he treated the movements like the wind itself instead of simply inspired by it? The wind was never constant - it shifted, changed direction, and flowed around obstacles. It could be gentle one moment and fierce the next.

  The key is to be unpredictable, he thought, his body moving almost instinctively. Like the wind, I need to flow around her attacks, not simply avoid them.

  He suppressed his cultivation further down to the peak of Qi Gathering, at last on par with Xiao Lan.

  Xiao Lan pressed the attack, her movements growing more aggressive, her speed pushed to her limit. But no matter how fast or clever her strikes, Han Wei was just out of reach. His movements looked almost effortless, his body drifting like a leaf on the breeze.

  Xiao Lan’s frustration grew with each missed strike. She was fast and precise, but Han Wei was always moving exactly the wrong way for her attacks to land. His movements were unpredictable, shifting from slow and deliberate to fast and explosive in an instant. It was like trying to catch smoke with her hands.

  As the fight dragged on, Han Wei began to see more flaws in his style. There were moments when his movements were too rigid, too reliant on the wind arts, and others when they were too delicate, too focused on the fan techniques. He adjusted on the fly, blending the two styles more seamlessly.

  By the time Xiao Lan was exhausted, her breathing ragged and her movements sluggish, Han Wei felt he had refined the style into something almost cohesive. It was still unfinished, but it had potential - a movement art that was as unpredictable and elusive as the wind itself.

  He stopped, holding up a hand to signal the end of the spar. “Enough,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

  Xiao Lan lowered her fans, her chest heaving. “I… I couldn’t hit you,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration.

  Han Wei nodded. “You relied too much on what you already know. You tried to force the fight, to control it. But the wind cannot be controlled - it can only be followed.”

  Xiao Lan frowned in confusion. “What should I do, master?”

  “Meditate on being the wind,” Han Wei said improvising. “Uncatchable and ever-present. When you understand that, you’ll find a way forward.”

  Xiao Lan nodded, still frowning, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. She nodded again slowly, her frustration giving way to contemplation. Han Wei hoped fervently that this would be enough to stall her while he finished reverse engineering her style.

  As the day drew to a close once again, Han Wei stood at the edge of the grotto, watching his disciples. Tie Zhu was practicing his spear forms, his movements more fluid than before. Lan Feng sat in meditation, deepening his connection to his qi.

  And Xiao Lan stood alone, her fans resting at her sides as she stared at the horizon deep in thought.