Chapter 10: Whispers in the Wind
The scent of pine and Qi-charged mist filled the morning air on Jade Sky Mountain. Legend D. Clinton wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished his last practice slash of the Wind-Cleaving Sword Style. The wooden post in front of him—once firm and unyielding—was now marked by deep grooves, evidence of silent, tireless progress.
> "Your control has improved. Still inefficient by 3.2%, but tolerable," Narvek remarked.
"Gee, thanks," Clinton muttered, cracking his knuckles. "How's my Qi flow?"
> "Stable. You are forming the second inner meridian loop. At this rate, Foundation Establishment is achievable within two weeks. Impressive for someone from a backward world."
Clinton smirked. "I'll take that as praise."
He sheathed his wooden training sword and looked out across the courtyard. Other disciples were beginning their day—some training, others chatting in cliques. The same ones who once mocked him now kept their distance. Not out of respect, but because he didn't quite fit in.
Only one person routinely broke that isolation.
"Hey, Earth-boy." Suyin appeared, hair tied up, robe slightly disheveled like she'd just rushed over. "You missed morning rations again."
She tossed him a bun wrapped in lotus leaf.
Clinton caught it midair. "You always feeding me like some wild pet?"
"Someone has to make sure you don't die of hunger before you become the next sword saint." She grinned.
He took a bite. Still warm. Sweet bean paste inside.
"Thanks," he said through a mouthful. "You're nicer than you act."
Suyin shrugged. "You're weirder than you look."
They laughed.
As the laughter faded, Suyin sat beside him on the training platform, legs swinging over the edge. "Clinton… where did you really come from?"
His smile faltered. "The Outer Regions. Near the Thousand Water Plains."
Suyin raised an eyebrow. "That's a lie."
He looked away.
> "Your social interaction model is inefficient," Narvek piped in. "Initiating subtle deflection protocol."
"No," Clinton thought firmly. "I'll handle this myself."
Suyin didn't push. "Fine. Keep your secrets, Earth-boy. But if you keep growing this fast, people will notice. They'll start asking harder questions."
"Then I'll just have to stay average," Clinton said.
Suyin smirked. "Too late for that."
Later that day, during sparring drills, Clinton took extra care to restrain himself. Every motion, every step, was calculated to seem almost good, but not too good. Just enough to pass without drawing eyes.
> "You are suppressing 40% of your output. Risky. It may result in internal stagnation if maintained for too long."
"I'm not here to shine, Narvek. I'm here to survive."
> "A flawed philosophy. Dominance is more efficient than subtlety."
"Yeah, well, subtlety keeps me alive."
Still, despite his caution, whispers began to stir.
"Did you see that Earth-born's parry earlier? That wasn't basic form…"
"I heard he beat Senior Lian in footwork drills. Isn't she Inner Sect level?"
"He must be hiding something."
Clinton kept his head down, but the murmurs were building like storm clouds far on the horizon.
That night, as the sky turned indigo and stars blinked into place, Clinton sat on a bamboo platform overlooking the valley. His breathing was slow, his dantian spinning like a quiet vortex. Inside his mind, the interface glowed—clean, organized, alien.
"Narvek," he whispered, "is this world always this… calm before the chaos?"
> "Statistically, yes. Martial societies exhibit long periods of stagnation before sudden bursts of catastrophic conflict."
"So something's coming."
> "Something always comes."
He exhaled, opened his eyes, and watched the fireflies dance across the courtyard below.
From a nearby cliff ledge, a dark-robed figure watched Clinton silently, eyes glowing faintly with Qi. Then, as quietly as they'd appeared, they vanished into the night mist.