"Elder Zhu? You wanted to see me?"

 

The rich aroma of aged parchment wafted through the air as I stepped into the chamber. Elder Zhu's office was a veritable labyrinth of wisdom. Tall mahogany shelves, packed edge to edge with scrolls, flanked the walls. Delicate ink brushes and meticulously inked papers lay scattered across the wooden surface, evidence of a mind forever at work. In the soft, dim glow of the room, the intricate shadows of numerous curios - some jade statues, some bronze instruments, and other indecipherable trinkets - played on the walls, each silently narrating tales of ancient traditions and forgotten lore.

 

Amidst the expansive display of artifacts and scrolls, the centerpiece of the room was an opulent desk, made of dark, polished wood and engraved with symbols that resonated with profound energy. On it lay a vast spread of papers, sketches, and manuscripts, but what caught my attention the most was a lone journal, its leather-bound spine slightly worn, placed meticulously at the center.

 

"Ah, Kai! How was your first class?"

 

The Elder's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "It wasn't too much trouble," I said, scratching my head. "Instructor Xiao-Hu is very thorough. Reinforcing the basics."

 

Elder Zhu chuckled warmly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "If only the other disciples could see things as you do. They often 'look at the sky from the bottom of a well', fixated on a small patch of blue and unaware of the vastness above. But enough of that; there's another matter I wish to discuss."

 

He gestured to the journal, its untouched pages seeming to beckon with a subtle allure. The absence of any title made it even more intriguing. Void of any ostentatious ornamentation, it seemed simple, but there was an unmistakable weight to its presence. I tilted my head, my curiosity piqued.

 

"Have you heard of Master Li Tao?" Elder Zhu's question caught me off guard.

 

My mind thought back to my journey with Feng Wu. "Yes, he was mentioned by Feng Wu. Master Li Tao is credited for the creation of the Elixir of Prolonged Vitality, right?" I replied, trying to piece together the fragments of information I had gathered.

 

Elder Zhu nodded, his fingers lightly drumming the cover of the journal. "That is accurate. However, there is more to Master Li Tao than just the creation of that elixir."

 

He paused, looking deep into my eyes, seemingly gauging my reaction. "Master Li Tao had a talent, similar to yours - the essence extraction skill. But unlike you, his talents extended beyond just plants."

 

A mixture of surprise and curiosity welled up inside me. Tianyi twitched upon feeling my anticipation through our emotional bond.

 

Elder Zhu continued, "Master Li Tao was an ancestor of our sect, the alchemy pavilion elder two generations ago. He was instrumental in shaping the pavilion into what it is today. His unparalleled ability to extract essences from various ingredients - minerals, metals, and animals- elevated our sect's alchemy techniques. But his unique gift was not hereditary, making it a challenge to find a worthy successor when he passed on."

 

I glanced again at the journal, its significance now clearer. "Is that..." I began, pointing towards the book, "...his journal?"

 

Elder Zhu nodded. "Indeed. It contains Master Li Tao's teachings, his observations, and detailed notes on the essence extraction skill. He penned down his experiences, hoping that someone in future generations might resonate with his ability and further the art."

 

The weight of the revelation settled on me. My essence extraction skill with plants had already opened up possibilities I hadn't imagined. But the idea of extracting essence from a wider range of ingredients was... staggering.

 

"And you believe," I hesitated, trying to wrap my head around the thought, "that I could do this as well?"

 

Elder Zhu's expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. "It's a possibility. Your ability with plants is already exceptional. Whether you can extend it further, that remains to be seen. But, in this journal," he gently tapped its cover, "lies the potential path for you to walk."

My mind raced. Holding this journal felt like a monumental gift, an honor. Yet with it came an unease, a shadow of doubt. I clutched the journal closer, feeling its weight both physically and metaphorically. "Elder Zhu," I began, my voice tinged with hesitation, "I'm truly honored by this gesture, but I must ask... What price is attached to such a gift?"

 

Elder Zhu studied me, his eyes piercing yet patient. "Your skepticism is understandable. In the Jianghu, nothing is given without expectation." He paused, his fingers interlacing thoughtfully. "As a Taoist sect, our primary goal is the betterment of the world. We have a duty, almost a sacred commitment, to nurture potential when we recognize it. Not to hoard it but to let it blossom, enriching the world with its gifts."

 

Elder Zhu's calm demeanor seemed to radiate wisdom. "Kai, in you, we see the budding promise of a talent that could redefine alchemy. And as custodians of knowledge and tradition, if we didn't extend our resources to cultivate that talent, we'd be doing a disservice not just to the sect, but to the entire province."

 

He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Over the years, we've sponsored numerous talents – many of whom had the skill, but lacked the backing or reputation. They've moved on, contributing to the world in their unique ways, bearing no direct allegiance to our sect."

 

Drawing a deep breath, he added, "That being said, while we do this with altruistic intentions, we aren't naive. The hope is, of course, that after the Grand Alchemy Gauntlet, should you see the benefits of this relationship, you might consider deepening your association with the Verdant Lotus Sect."

 

I contemplated his words, feeling the weight of their meaning. While the offer seemed genuine, without any overt strings attached, the unspoken implication was clear. This act of goodwill wasn't a debt per se, but it was certainly an investment in a potential future relationship.

 

Sensing my thoughts, Elder Zhu offered a knowing smile. "It's a testament to your character, Kai, that you don't accept gifts without understanding their implications. We ask nothing of you now, but the door to future collaborations remains open. Think of this journal not as a shackle, but as a bridge – one that you can choose to cross when you're ready."

 

I held the journal in my hands, its pages filled with ancient wisdom waiting to be unlocked. "Thank you, Elder Zhu," I finally said, my voice filled with gratitude, "I'll treasure this knowledge and ensure it's put to good use."

 

Elder Zhu nodded, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "In the world of alchemy and martial arts, potential is nothing without perseverance. I believe you have both. Use them wisely."

 

With those parting words, I took my leave, the journal safely tucked under my arm, feeling both the weight of responsibility and the thrill of the journey ahead.

 

The Verdant Lotus Sect sprawled across a vast expanse of scenic beauty, with lush meadows and serene water bodies punctuating the tranquil landscape. As I walked, gentle breezes caressed my face, carrying with them the fragrant scent of lotuses in full bloom. Every corner of this sect was like a painting come to life.

 

"This truly is a beautiful place, isn't it, Tianyi? Hard to believe it belonged to a cultivator sect."

 

If I recall correctly, the training compound was supposed to be here. Feng Wu should be here, I hope.

 

My silent reverie with Tianyi ended when we came across a large open field. Here, third-class disciples were now engrossed in what appeared to be practice sparring. Their movements were fluid, a beautiful and intricate dance of feints, dodges, and strikes. Though no physical contact was made, it was clear they were mirroring each other's moves, predicting and countering them in a harmonious rhythm.

 

Even if it was sparring, I couldn't be confident in being able to stay in front of the third-class disciples. They were going quite fast, if I do say so myself.

 

Moving past this breathtaking display, I approached a more secluded compound where the rhythmic thudding from earlier grew louder. Entering, I was met with a starkly different scene. Here, disciples were engaged in intense training. Some struck wooden logs, while others kicked against sandbags or ground their shins against bamboo poles. Their faces were etched with determination, and every grunt echoed their unwavering commitment. Some had bloodied knuckles, or bruises along their extremities.

 

In the midst of this, Feng Wu stood out in the corner quietly performing a similar exercise. Shirtless, with sweat glistening on his lean torso, he was hammering his knuckles against a rugged stone with singular focus. Every strike seemed to resonate with an inner strength that was awe-inspiring.

 

Before I could approach Feng Wu, a shorter woman with flowing raven-black hair, wearing the distinct robes of a first-class disciple, intercepted me. Her sharp eyes held an intensity that seemed to dissect everything in their gaze.

 

"You must be Kai Liu," she said, her voice carrying a hint of authority. "I am Xia Ji, the instructor overseeing this training ground. I suppose you haven't seen conditioning before. It is a grisly sight for those who aren't familiar with martial arts."

 

I clasped my heads and bowed respectfully, observing a disciple striking a wooden log with fervor. "I've read about conditioning, but witnessing it firsthand... it's intense."

 

Xia Ji's eyes followed the disciplined actions of the trainees. "Conditioning is about forging the body. Qi is powerful, yes, but the physical body remains our foundation. We strengthen it so that every muscle, bone, and sinew is honed."

 

"But the pain..." I trailed off, watching as another disciple's knuckles turned raw against a sandbag.

 

She nodded briefly. "Pain is part of the process. It teaches us our limits and how to push past them. In battle, a conditioned body can withstand blows that might otherwise incapacitate. It's preparation, ensuring every part of us is ready for any challenge."

 

Although it was talked about in some of the books I had read, they never went in-depth about the topic. Seeing it in person was different from hearing someone say they struck a wooden pole for hours on end until they bled.

 

I nodded in acknowledgment. "This training... it's unlike anything I've ever seen. Especially when one can reinforce their body with qi."

 

Xia Ji looked over the disciples and then back to me. "Qi reinforcement is a formidable technique, yes, but it's only one layer of a martial artist's defense. Imagine going into battle with only one strategy, one line of defense. No matter how strong it is, once it's breached, you're vulnerable."

 

She gestured toward a disciple, his fists bloodied but unyielding. "This training is about forging the body and mind, ensuring that beneath the shield of qi lies a fortress of resilience. In the most grueling battles, when qi wanes and exhaustion sets in, it's this raw, physical toughness, honed through relentless conditioning, that keeps a warrior standing."

 

My gaze returned to Feng Wu, his hands showing the testament of years of dedication. "It's about preparation," Xia Ji continued. "Qi is our spiritual armor, but this," she clenched her fist, "is our innate armor. Combine the two, and you give yourself another edge, one you may need for victory."

 

She smiled, a rare occurrence I assumed, which softened her stern features. "Qi is the sky, vast and boundless, but even the sky needs the earth to be revered. This conditioning? It's our earth."

 

I took a moment to let her words sink in, a profound realization dawning upon me. "Thank you, Instructor Xia Ji, for this insight. May I try it for myself?"

 

She hesitated, her sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. "You? An alchemist wants to try martial conditioning?" There was an undercurrent of disdain in her voice.

 

"I am a beginner alchemist, true," I began, sensing the skepticism in her voice, "but I also have some foundation in martial arts." I held out my hand, revealing the callouses that had formed over the months of gripping my iron staff. "These aren't just from handling pestles and beakers."

 

To be fair, I'd say some of them were from working in the garden for years. Running the shop back home didn't make me weak by any means.

 

Xia Ji observed my hands closely, her gaze thoughtful. "Hm. Callouses from an iron staff, correct?"

 

I nodded, questioning internally how she could tell from a glance. "Yes, I've been training with it for a while now. I understand the importance of discipline and perseverance. I believe I can handle the rudiments of conditioning."

 

She leaned back, her arms crossed, still looking unsure. "Conditioning one's body for martial arts isn't just about withstanding pain or having callouses, young alchemist. It's about pushing your limits, mentally and physically. The rope-wrapped poles might seem like a simple training tool, but striking them repeatedly can be excruciating for beginners."

 

I met her gaze determinedly. "Every discipline has its trials, Instructor Xia Ji. In herbalism, we endure hours of painstaking precision, moments where a slight miscalculation could lead to disaster. I believe the principles are the same – dedication, patience, and resilience."

 

Xia Ji regarded me for a moment longer, her expression inscrutable. Then, she exhaled slowly, her stern demeanor relaxing slightly. "Very well, Kai Liu. Your determination is clear, and your argument holds weight. Let’s see what you’ve got."

 

Walking over to Feng Wu, she instructed, "Feng Wu, guide him through the basics with the rope-wrapped poles."

 

Feng Wu nodded, his expression a mix of surprise and intrigue. I noticed he paused from the corner of my eye, "Of course, Instructor Xia Ji."

 

He led me to a tall pole, tightly wrapped in coarse rope. "The rope gives some cushion," Feng Wu explained, "but don't be fooled. Striking it consistently will test you."

 

Following his lead, I assumed the correct stance, channeling my energy to my fists. "Start with gentle strikes," he advised. I tapped the pole, the rough texture of the rope scratching against my knuckles. "The line between injury and progress is very thin."

 

Every subsequent hit was a challenge as I pushed past the initial discomfort. Feng Wu's voice guided me, encouraging and correcting as needed. The rhythmic thudding became a kind of meditation, each strike a blend of pain and purpose.

 

After some time, he left me to my own devices to finish his own training. I continued, the discomfort giving way to pain as the skin on my knuckles turned raw. Tianyi seemed confused and concerned while fluttering her wings on top of the pole, feeling the pain through our bond. But I reassured her, continuing the exercise without pause.

 

This was all about resilience, wasn't it? It would be a disservice to stop just when things got rough.

 

Sweat poured down my face, and the pain in my hands intensified with each successive strike. The coarse rope seemed to bite into my flesh, a stinging reminder of the commitment I’d made. It was almost as if the pole was a sentient being, testing my resolve.

 

Breathe in, strike. Breathe out, retract. Each movement was deliberate. My focus tightened, trying to ensure that every blow landed accurately, efficiently, even as the pain became nearly unbearable. The rhythmic sound of my knuckles connecting with the pole was interspersed with my heavy breathing. The world around me blurred, and there was only the pole, my hands, and the cycle of breath and motion.

 

I switched hands when I felt the searing pain becoming too intense, worried that I might permanently damage myself. I had almost lost track of time when a firm hand grabbed my wrist, stopping the motion.

 

"That's enough, Kai Liu!" Xia Ji's voice broke through my trance-like state. Her grip was unyielding, and her gaze bore into mine with a mix of concern and surprise.

 

I looked down at my hands and recoiled. My knuckles were raw and bleeding, a gruesome testament to my determination—or perhaps my stubbornness. The stark contrast of my blood on the pale rope was a jarring sight.

 

"You've pushed yourself too far," she chastised. "This isn't about proving a point. Conditioning is a journey, not a one-time event. Your hands..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

 

Feng Wu, having finished his routine, hurried over. His face held a look of genuine concern. "Kai, do you need to go to the infirmary?"

 

I clenched my fists, wincing slightly. "No, it's alright. Tianyi can help with the healing." I glanced at the little butterfly, her wings flapping anxiously. "But I might need some gauze to wrap them."

 

Xia Ji sighed, her stern demeanor softening. "You certainly have spirit, alchemist. But remember: there's a difference between tenacity and recklessness. Learn to know your limits."

 

I kneeled there, being scolded by the shorter woman alongside Feng Wu for not supervising me properly.