Morning came softly.
The golden sun rose over the northern hills, bathing Shuihua's recovering capital in a gentle, honeyed light. Dew clung to the rooftops and petals, and the once-battered streets now pulsed with quiet life again. Even the wind carried a scent of spring and fresh hope.
In a modest courtyard behind the royal palace, Zhang Wei fastened his white robes, his jade pendant cool against his chest. Beside him, Pan Qiang tied up his short hair with an uneven knot, grumbling about nerves but unable to hide the flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
"Are you ready?" Zhang Wei asked, his voice calm.
"As ready as a frog being thrown into a dragon's nest," Pan Qiang muttered. "Let's just hope the prince's teacher doesn't roast me with a single glance."
They made their way through the palace grounds until they reached a garden hidden behind flowering hedges, silent, sacred, untouched. The air was filled with the hum of wind and the soft whisper of water flowing over smooth stones. A stream curled through the garden like a silver ribbon, its edge dotted with lotus blooms and golden carp flickering beneath the surface.
There, near the center of the clearing, stood Prince Han Yu.
Dressed in layered indigo robes, the prince stood with his hands behind his back, looking into the pond as if the reflection held ancient secrets. When he noticed them, he turned and smiled faintly.
"You're punctual," Han Yu said, nodding. "Good. Discipline is the root of all cultivation."
Zhang Wei and Pan Qiang bowed respectfully. "Prince Han."
A few paces behind the prince, beneath the shade of a great old apricot tree, sat an elderly man in all white. His long beard touched his chest, and his brows were as silver as frost. He sat cross-legged, still as stone, in a quiet state of meditation. Birds perched close to him, unafraid.
Then—he opened his eyes.
The old man slowly rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his lap with ease. His presence was calm yet vast, like still waters hiding a bottomless depth.
"You have arrived," he said in a voice like flowing ink, calm and precise. "Come. Sit."
Zhang Wei, Pan Qiang, and the prince lowered themselves onto the stone platform before him.
"I am Yu Wenshan," the elder introduced. "Once called the Mountain White Sage long before this kingdom was even born. Today, I am merely a teacher."
He looked at them one by one.
"Cultivation is not merely energy and power. It is the tempering of will, the balancing of heart, and the understanding of your place between heaven and earth. The moment you awaken your qi is the moment you choose a path. Some reach upward like lightning. Others dig deep like roots. You must first know yourself before you reach beyond yourself."
His gaze lingered on Zhang Wei's pendant.
"You carry weight not just of medicine but of fate."
Then, the lesson began.
He spoke of meridians, dantian points, the breathing methods of the Five Harmonies, and the invisible flows of qi that mirrored rivers inside the body. He taught them how to draw the energy of the world inward without conflict, to breathe not just with lungs but with spirit.
Zhang Wei listened attentively, etching every word into his heart. Pan Qiang, though less composed, furrowed his brows and raised a hesitant hand.
"Master Yu if qi flows like rivers, what happens when they get blocked?" he asked.
Yu Wenshan opened one eye slightly. "A wise question. When rivers are blocked, they flood or they dry. The body is no different. Blocked meridians lead to stagnation. Stagnation leads to pain, illness, even madness. Cultivation clears these channels, like a gardener tending the waterways. That is the beginning."
Zhang Wei spoke next. "What of the realms, Master? I've heard of stages , Body Tempering, Qi Gathering, but the path beyond is unclear to me."
The old sage stroked his beard and nodded slowly.
"The path is long and not all walk it the same way. But listen well."
He raised a hand, sketching invisible symbols in the air as he spoke.
"The first realm is Body Tempering. Here, the flesh is honed, strengthened to hold qi. Muscles are forged, bones are refined, and one's endurance surpasses mortal limits.
Next is Qi Gathering. In this stage, you sense qi, store it, shape it. Your meridians widen. Your senses sharpen. The world no longer feels still, you begin to feel it breathing with you.
Then comes Foundation Establishment. The body and qi become one. Your dantian becomes a wellspring. Techniques, arts, and spells become possible, if the mind is clear and will unshaken.
Core Formation follows. The cultivator condenses all their qi into a golden core. Longevity increases. One may live a century untouched by age. At this point, one's presence alone can bend the will of those weaker.
Nascent Soul comes after. A soul-seed is born within, capable of leaving the body. One touches the edge of divinity.
And beyond that the realms thin, lost in legend Spirit Ascension , Saint Realm, and finally, Immortal Realm."
The air grew heavy with silence.
Pan Qiang's jaw hung open slightly. "Wait. You mean people can really live for hundreds of years?"
"If their path is true, and their heart remains firm," the old man replied.
"But what if their heart is not?" Zhang Wei asked.
Yu Wenshan's eyes met his, clear as mountain spring water.
"Then they rise quickly and fall faster. Cultivation is not escape from mortality. It is a confrontation with self ."
They sat quietly, the weight of those words sinking into their bones.
Then the old man added softly, "Ask not how far the path leads. Ask only how far you're willing to walk."
With that, he closed his eyes once more.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, golden light poured into the garden, casting long shadows over the stones and flowers. The soft rustling of leaves and the babble of the nearby stream became the only sounds as the three students began their meditation.
Zhang Wei sat cross-legged beneath a swaying willow, his breathing slow and steady. Following the teachings of Master Yu, he centered his spirit and activated the Heavenly Pulse of Twin Rivers within his body. Instantly, he felt the familiar sensation—two distinct yet harmonious flows of qi coursing through his meridians. One was cool and fluid, the other warm and forceful, mirroring yin and yang, ebbing and surging through him like twin currents shaping his inner world.
He began cycling his qi.
This was the Body Tempering Realm, the very first step on the cultivator's path. Master Yu had explained it clearly: this realm was split into four phases—Initial, Lower Completion, Middle Completion, and Upper Completion. Each stage represented a transformation of the body: the skin, the bones, and finally the blood.
After nearly a hundred cycles, Zhang Wei's meridians pulsed with rhythm and strength. Suddenly, a dull cracking sensation spread through his arms and chest—not of pain, but of breakthrough. His skin flushed with energy, his muscles tightened, and he felt an inner weight lift as if his body had shed a layer of burden.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Lower Completion. His flesh had become tougher, sturdier. Not impenetrable, but no longer merely human.
Nearby, Pan Qiang sat hunched, eyes squeezed shut, trying to mimic the breathing rhythm Master Yu had taught them. He didn't possess a unique pulse. He had no manual, no cultivation base, only raw determination.
His qi stumbled through his meridians, sometimes getting stuck, sometimes flowing too fast. But he didn't stop. Again and again, he forced it through, adjusting, refining, feeling every inch of his fragile body.
Then, on his seventy-second cycle, something clicked.
A thin line of qi suddenly shot through his chest, then down his arms, spreading like fire into his limbs. Pan Qiang gasped, and his body trembled violently—but the qi kept flowing, syncing with his breathing like it had always belonged.
At that moment, Master Yu Wenshan, who had been watching from the shade, stepped forward with a start. His eyes narrowed, and he reached out, placing two fingers on Pan Qiang's wrist.
"Incredible," the old man murmured. "This boy without any method has entered the Body Tempering Realm by instinct alone."
He pressed his palm lightly over Pan Qiang's dantian, eyes widening further. "There's something hidden here… a Dormant Titan Pulse. Rare. Forgotten by most."
Zhang Wei turned toward them, surprised.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Yu Wenshan stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It means within this boy's body lies immense, raw potential , sealed, waiting. His pulse responds to pressure. If awakened, it will rapidly strengthen his body to match his qi flow."
Even as he spoke, the changes began.
Pan Qiang's scrawny arms tightened slightly. The skin over his chest twitched, and a faint line of definition appeared where once there was none. His breathing deepened, and even his posture straightened with unexpected stability.
Zhang Wei blinked. "Pan Qiang, you're growing muscles."
Pan Qiang peeked one eye open. "Wait, seriously?!"
Yu Wenshan chuckled softly. "From this day forward, your body will begin to change. Cultivation has accepted you. Now it's up to you to rise."
Yu Wenshan's expression remained unreadable as he withdrew his hand from Pan Qiang's wrist. He walked slowly to the side, gazing toward the mist-covered mountains in the distance, the breeze rustling his white robes.
"There was once a man," the old master began softly, "who bore the Titan Pulse, just as you do. It was many generations ago, when the cultivation world was wild, and strength ruled above all else."
Zhang Wei and Pan Qiang listened in silence.
"That man's name was Wu Hengtian. Born in the war-ravaged plains of the west, he awakened the Titan Pulse as a child. His body grew strong beyond reason, his fists could shatter stone, his steps shake the earth. He founded the Titan Sect, a sanctuary for those born with rare and primal bloodlines, bodies meant not just to wield qi, but to dominate it."
Yu Wenshan's voice lowered.
"But strength invites envy. Wu Hengtian loved a woman, one he trusted with his life. She stood by his side, called him 'brother,' studied his techniques, and bore his secrets. But in time, she betrayed him."
Pan Qiang's eyes widened. "Why?"
Yu Wenshan's gaze was distant. "Some say she feared what he was becoming. Others say she sought his strength for her own sect. Regardless she struck him down during a peace summit, driving a poisoned blade through his heart."
A long silence fell.
"The Titan Sect was hunted afterward, blamed for treachery and arrogance. Its records were burned. Its disciples vanished into history. And the Titan Pulse was believed lost forever, until now."
Pan Qiang looked at his hands, suddenly unsure.
"Am I cursed to suffer the same fate?"
Yu Wenshan turned to him, eyes steady. "That depends. Wu Hengtian perished not because of his power but because he trusted blindly and walked a path without caution. Power without wisdom is a candle in the wind."
Then he gave a faint smile. "You are not him. And you are not alone."
Zhang Wei placed a hand on Pan Qiang's shoulder. "We walk forward together. No matter what lies ahead."
Yu Wenshan nodded approvingly. "Good. Remember this tale, not as a warning but as a lesson. The past does not bind you. But it does whisper if you know how to listen."
After a moment of quiet, Yu Wenshan slowly extended his hand toward Pan Qiang once more.
"Since the heavens have revealed this old pulse once thought lost I will not let it wither in ignorance."
He placed his palm gently on Pan Qiang's chest, channeling a gentle stream of qi into the boy's core. For several breaths, Pan Qiang's eyes widened as he felt the warmth flow through him, like a river carving a new path through solid stone.
"This cultivation method once belonged to the Titan Sect, passed down only to those with bodies strong enough to carry mountains. It is called The Iron Vein Codex. It refines not just your qi, but your muscles, bones, and instincts. But be warned, it is a path of pain, trial, and endurance."
Pan Qiang nodded, serious for once.
Yu Wenshan stepped back. "Alongside it, you will study the Art of War not just battles and formations, but how to command your strength, read the battlefield, and defend those beside you. Strength is nothing without control."
Just as Pan Qiang bowed in thanks, the prince stirred from his meditation nearby, blinking and stretching.
"What did I miss?" Han Yu asked, rising and brushing a leaf from his shoulder.
Zhang Wei chuckled and turned to him. "Pan Qiang just awakened his Titan Pulse. Master Yu says it's the first in generations."
Han Yu blinked, then grinned broadly. "What? Truly? That's incredible!" He strode over and clapped Pan Qiang on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Congratulations, my friend. Looks like you'll have to protect us now."
Pan Qiang laughed sheepishly, still overwhelmed.
Yu Wenshan, however, clapped his hands once. "Enough for today."
"But, teacher!" Pan Qiang started, "I just awakened! I can still go for another round! I don't want to lose the momentum—"
WHACK!
Yu Wenshan lightly smacked the back of Pan Qiang's head with his fan. "Cultivation is not like chasing rabbits down a hill! A proper rest is part of cultivation. Without it, your qi will become erratic, your mind dull, and your muscles strained. Do you wish to awaken tomorrow with the grace of a limping ox?"
Zhang Wei and the prince both burst into laughter as Pan Qiang rubbed the back of his head, pouting.
"Yes, Teacher" he muttered.
Yu Wenshan sighed, though a faint smile curved at his lips. "Tomorrow, we continue. Come prepared and well-rested."
As the sun began to dip behind the horizon, casting golden light over the garden, the three students bowed respectfully to their teacher, their bond of camaraderie growing alongside the cultivation paths they had just begun to walk.