Chương 27: I Would Be Honored, Commander!

Xiao Xuan navigated the vast estate of the Su Clan until he found an isolated courtyard. Tucked away behind a dense grove of towering green bamboo, the area was quiet, save for the rhythmic rustling of the bamboo leaves in the morning breeze. The ground was packed dirt, swept flat, and a single weathered stone bench sat near the edge of the clearing.

Xiao Xuan walked over to the center of the courtyard, stopped, and channeled a tiny, controlled pulse of Qi from his dantian, directing it into the dull silver ring on his finger. The air above his palm rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond, and a tightly bound, dull blue scroll materialized, dropping heavily into his grasp. Falcon Dash. Low-Grade Movement Technique. He walked over to the flat stone bench and carefully untied the thick cord binding the parchment.

He rolled it open, pinning the edges down with two smooth stones he found near the bamboo stalks. Xiao Xuan had not yet attempted to practice the actual technique. Over the past few days, between his cultivation and alchemy studies, he had spent his nights analyzing the text. It looked like basic physics. Force equals mass times acceleration. Even a mortal could practice the footwork to run like an Olympic sprinter. But once Qi was injected into the equation, it scaled beyond mundane Earthen science.

With enough Qi, one could outright break the sound barrier. The scroll contained actual, diagrammed instructions. The first part focused on increasing foot speed tremendously, and at the highest mastery, one could turn invisible in just a single leap. It required the cultivator to route Qi through three specific meridians in the calves and the soles of the feet, creating a momentary, explosive burst of propulsion. Before beginning, Xiao Xuan started with some warm-ups.

He did high knees, deep walking lunges, and torso twists. After he was sure he wouldn't end up tearing a muscle on his first try, he began performing the stances. Recalling the intricate diagrams from the scroll, he began to practice the foundational footwork. There was no Qi involved yet. He simply moved his body, memorizing the choreography. Step forward with the left heel, pivot on the ball of the right foot, shift the center of gravity low to the ground, and push off.

While the stances themselves were full of grace, his crude imitation made it feel awkward. The forms forced him to move in ways that defied his natural walking rhythm. He felt like performing an ice skating sequence on the rough, muddy ground. He lost his balance on the fourth repetition, his ankles crossing as he tried to pivot too quickly. He stumbled sideways, arms flailing, and crashed into the packed dirt. Xiao Xuan spat out a mouthful of dust and pushed himself up. He dusted off his deep blue robes.

He spent the next hour doing nothing but the footwork. Step, pivot, drop, push. Over and over again, until the dirt courtyard was covered in the overlapping scuff marks of his boots. He fell three more times, bruising his left elbow and scraping his palm, but he forced himself to keep going until the sequence of movements didn't require conscious thought. Once his body understood the choreography, it was time to introduce Qi. He slowly accessed the energy in his dantian, drawing out a thin, concentrated thread.

He guided it down through his abdomen, past his thighs, and into the specific meridians mapped out by the scroll. He stepped forward with his left heel. He dropped his center of gravity. He pivoted on his right foot. As he prepared to push off, he forcefully injected the gathered Qi into the soles of his feet. Bang! The release of energy was far too violent. Instead of a controlled dash, the Qi exploded against the dirt like a miniature concussive blast.

Xiao Xuan was launched forward with the grace of a cannonball. His upper body couldn't keep up with the sudden acceleration of his legs. His feet flew out from under him, and he slammed face-first into the ground, skidding across the dirt for several feet before tumbling into a messy heap near the stone bench.

"Gah!" Xiao Xuan groaned, rolling onto his back. He stared up at the clear blue sky, his chest heaving, his nose throbbing with a dull, heavy ache. He sat up, wiping a smear of dirt and a tiny trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve. He crawled over to the stone bench, grabbed his water skin, and took a long swig. I should've saved a vial of healing elixir for myself! He walked back to the starting line. He closed his eyes, mapping the meridians again.

This time, he used his psychic focus to act as a valve, strictly limiting the amount of Qi that could flow into his feet. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. He stepped, pivoted, and pushed. He moved forward, a sharp burst of speed carrying him three feet in a fraction of a second. But mid-dash, his concentration wavered. The Qi flow stuttered, and his legs locked up. He tripped over his own momentum, crashing heavily onto his right shoulder.

He gritted his teeth, pushed himself up, and started over again. The morning bled into the afternoon. The sun climbed high overhead, beating down on the courtyard and turning the air thick and humid. Xiao Xuan's crisp robes were soaked with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his back. His muscles screamed in protest, his calves burning with lactic acid, and his shins ached from repeated impacts with the hard earth.

Sometimes he routed the Qi perfectly but forgot the breathing rhythm, leaving him gasping for air and stumbling. Sometimes he nailed the breath and the Qi, but his physical stance was just a fraction of an inch too wide, causing the propulsion to send him veering sharply to the left instead of straight ahead. He fell. He got up. He adjusted the psychic flow. He stepped. He fell again. Xiao Xuan repeated the cycle until he had finally exhausted his Qi reserves.

By the time the midday sun reached its peak, he was forced to take a break. As he dragged his bruised, aching body toward the courtyard entrance, he was met by a familiar figure carrying a multi-tiered wooden food box.

"Wei Tu?" Xiao Xuan panted, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Young Master!" Wei Tu greeted enthusiastically, setting the heavy box down on the stone bench.

"I knew your martial practice would heavily deplete your Qi reserves, so I took the liberty of arranging a special, Qi-nourishing meal for you from the main kitchens."

"Oh ho! I can't wait, let's see it." Xiao Xuan popped the lid off the wooden box. A fragrant cloud of steam billowed out, carrying the rich scent of roasted spirit-fowl, steamed pearl-rice, and a thick, jade-colored herbal broth. Xiao Xuan didn't bother with chopsticks. He grabbed a glaze-roasted fowl leg with his bare hands and tore into it.

The meat was tender, but more importantly, as it hit his stomach, a warm, soothing wave of residual Qi radiated outward, rapidly easing his burning muscles and replenishing his empty dantian. He ate like a starving wolf, gulping down the broth straight from the porcelain bowl, abandoning the regal etiquette expected of a Su Clan Young Master.

"Oh my god, this is amazing," Xiao Xuan groaned with a mouthful of meat. He looked up at his attendant in his state of euphoric exhaustion.

"I love you, Wei Tu." Wei Tu froze. The attendant's face was drained of all colors. His eyes went wide with horror as he took two rapid, frantic steps backward, nearly tripping over the edge of the bamboo grove. Xiao Xuan was oblivious to the cultural panic he had just induced. He was already reaching for the second tier of the lunch box, happily humming to himself as he devoured another handful of spirit-rice.

By the time he finished, Wei Tu had practically fled the courtyard, taking the empty wooden boxes with him. After resting against the bamboo stalks for an hour to let the heavy, Qi-rich food digest, Xiao Xuan finally stood back up. His muscles felt tight, but his internal energy was restored. He walked back to the center of the scuffed dirt courtyard and continued practicing. As the afternoon wore on, his muscle memory finally began to set in. He took his stance again and inhaled sharply.

He stepped with his left foot. The stance was tight, his center of gravity perfectly balanced. He pivoted, the Qi rushing down his legs in a smooth, regulated stream. He pushed. Whoosh! The dirt kicked up beneath his boots. The air whipped past his ears. In the blink of an eye, Xiao Xuan crossed ten feet of open space, coming to a sliding halt just inches from the bamboo grove. His boots dug into the dirt, absorbing the residual momentum. He didn't fall. A breathless grin broke across his dirt-smudged face.

He looked back at the scuff marks where he had started. Clap. Clap. Clap. The slow, deliberate sound of hands striking together echoed through the quiet courtyard. Standing near the entrance of the courtyard, leaning casually against the stone archway, was a tall, heavily armored figure. The sunlight glinted off the polished silver plates of his shoulder guards.

"Young Master Xuan," the young man greeted with clasped hands and a respectful bow, his voice carrying a calm, resonant authority. Xiao Xuan blinked, recognizing the intricate armor and the sharp, disciplined posture of the man who had publicly defended him at the Clan Screening. He slowly relaxed his stance, standing up straight.

"Commander Su Ming," Xiao Xuan said, brushing a layer of dust off his sleeves and returning a polite, clasped-hands bow.

"A pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was returning to the inner estate after completing an inspection of the outer patrols," the Commander explained, stepping fully into the courtyard.

"I heard the repeated sounds of impacts and exertion. Given the secluded nature of this garden, I came to investigate. I did not expect to find you here, Young Master Xuan, diligently practicing." Su Ming's eyes drifted over the scuffed dirt, the overturned pebbles, and the sweat-drenched, bruised state of Xiao Xuan's robes. There was a flicker of respect in the Commander's gaze.

"It's been a while since the screening. I trust you are doing well?" Xiao Xuan said, offering a faint, self-deprecating smile.

"I am doing just fine, Young Master," Su Ming replied.

"I must admit, I have stood here observing your practice for the last quarter of an hour. I thought I might be of some help, if you are amenable to it."

"I would be honored, Commander," Xiao Xuan said honestly. Su Ming walked over to the center of the courtyard, his heavy boots making no sound against the dirt, a stark contrast to Xiao Xuan's clumsy footwork.

"You have an incredible dedication to the physical mechanics of the technique," Su Ming noted, gesturing to the starting point of Xiao Xuan's dash.

"I watched you fail repeatedly, and try again until you succeeded. You have done remarkably well for a beginner."

"Thank you," Xiao Xuan said, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Though my bruises might disagree with the 'remarkably well' part." Su Ming did not laugh, but a small, understanding smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"However," the Commander continued, his tone shifting into the seriousness of an instructor, "techniques like this are not designed to be used against stationary air in an empty courtyard. They are utilized in extreme, high-stress situations. Fight or flight. Dodging a lethal strike or closing the distance on an evasive enemy." Su Ming turned to face Xiao Xuan directly, his posture relaxed, yet radiating a subtle, dangerous readiness.

"Practicing alone builds muscle memory," Su Ming explained.

"But it does not build combat instinct. When a blade is swinging at your neck, you will not have the luxury of taking a deep breath, perfectly aligning your stance, and routing your Qi at your own pace. You must be able to execute the dash instantly, purely on reflex." Xiao Xuan frowned thoughtfully.

"It is highly recommended to train with a sparring partner early on, before your solo habits become ingrained flaws," Su Ming said, rolling his broad shoulders.

"May I?"

"I appreciate the gesture, Commander," Xiao Xuan said, taking a cautious step back. He let out a nervous chuckle.

"However, I feel I should be transparent with you. I have never fought anyone in my entire life." Su Ming nodded, his expression unfazed by the admission.

"Everyone begins somewhere, Young Master. I will restrict my Qi to the baseline of a newly awakened cultivator, matching your current output. I will not strike to injure, only to force you to move. I will instruct you to adapt your moves to my attacks at the same time." Xiao Xuan let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking out his arms and stepping forward.

"Alright," Xiao Xuan said, bringing his hands together in a formal bow.

"Please, Commander. Go easy on me."