Lingqi and Elder Zhu sat in the courtyard of the Opal Palace underneath a towering oak tree, the afternoon sun was bright, and the sky was blue. The area was spacious, with grass trimmed short and the scent of fresh flowers wafting through the air. A gentle breeze nestled Ruyi's auburn hair as she sat on a nearby bench, legs crossed, eyes glued to the pair.
Silence lingered between them, only the bleating of insects and the soft rustling of leaves could be heard, the faint chattering of distant voices and footsteps from the market were a distant echo, but their presence remained.
The two were in meditative poses, and Lingqi's breathing had been steady. Elder Zhu was the picture of tranquility - he appeared no different than the statues that lined the Palace halls.
"Good, good," The scholar complimented his pupil. "You have truly mastered Yana. I can sense that your perceptions have expanded. Now, turn that focus inward."
The boy nodded, his eyes were closed, and his body was still. He felt his Prana circulating throughout his body, the all too familiar cauldron that housed his soul churned, and the energies within were in constant motion.
"What do you see?" Elder Zhu asked.
Lingqi could sense the currents of Prana that flowed through him, their energies were like the tides of the Unyielding Sea. Hot flame licked at the cauldron's surface, while cold winds blew across its sides, and a torrential waterfall roared into the depths of its core.
"I can sense my Prana," Lingqi answered. The maelstrom that was his Prana was overwhelming, and the boy had felt himself drowning.
Elder Zhu sensed it as well - a power that he had not anticipated, a force that could tear apart the boy's very soul.
"Lingqi, listen to me," the scholar spoke, his voice was calm, and his words were deliberate. "Temper your emotions."
Lingqi did as he was instructed. His breath steadied and his shoulders relaxed, the raging tempest that was his Prana subsided, the storm had abated. The fire within had simmered, and for the first time the teen felt confident in his abilities to control the depths of his soul.
"I think I can do it now," He whispered. The boy threw caution to the wind, and his spirit leapt head first into his core, igniting the flame into a raging inferno, a tempest of energy that shot outward in a torrential gale.
A surge of raw power rushed through Lingqi, and the boy could feel his limbs grow stronger, his muscles were alight with vigor. His senses sharpened.
"Lingqi...!" Elder Zhu called out as a blast of wind surged outward, rattling the sturdy oak, its leaves were tossed into the air, and a flurry of debris and dust was sent scattering throughout the courtyard.
Ruyi had been nearly thrown from the bench, her eyes were wide with shock, and her lips were agape. The girl watched the spectacle with a mix of awe and amazement.
Elder Zhu had become consumed with worry for his pupil, and his heartbeat with dread. Lingqi's Prana had surged outward in a violent explosion, and the boy had no way of controlling the power.
A gust of wind rushed forward, and Lingqi could feel the Prana circulate throughout his body, and the energies coursed through his veins, his heart pulsated with newfound vigor.
"I can feel it," Lingqi breathed. He felt the wind swirl around him, the leaves were a blur, and the grass swayed with the passing breeze. The air was heavy, its weight tangible.
Ruyi's eyes widened in awe as hues of indigo swirled around Lingqi's body. The energies coalesced into a brilliant blue flame, tongues of fire licking at the air, casting a mesmerizing glow across the courtyard.
Elder Zhu concentrated on guiding Lingqi out of the depths of his soul, his spirit reached out to his disciple, and he was met with a powerful resistance, a wall of sheer will.
"You must calm yourself," the scholar said, his voice soothing. "I can guide you, but you must let me."
Lingqi was caught off guard by his master's words. He felt his Prana swirl around him, enveloping him in an exhilarating warmth. He questioned why he had ever been afraid, why he had ever thought that his power was something to fear.
"But with this I can--" The rush was intoxicating. With this, he could surely--
"You are endangering Ruyi!" Elder Zhu scolded the boy, his tone was stern, and his words were sharp. "If you do not control yourself, you will hurt those you love."
Lingqi snapped his eyes open. The flames around him dissipated, and the winds that had enveloped him abated, leaving only a lingering chill.
Scattered leaves fell to the ground, and a hush settled upon the courtyard, the only sounds were the soft rustling of grass and the steady rhythm of the scholar's breath.
Lingqi was met with a wave of guilt. His eyes locked onto his friend's, and she looked back at him with worry.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes cast downward.
"It is alright, Lingqi," Ruyi said, her tone was forgiving. He had shared the depths of his Prana with her before, and she knew the risks involved.
Lingqi turned to face his master, fearful of what his eyes would show. He found the man looking at him with an expression of disappointment, his eyes were narrowed, and his brows were furrowed.
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The scholar shook his head, and his words were filled with disappointment. "You are far too reckless, Lingqi. Your desire to cultivate stems from a place of greed. That is a path I cannot condone."
"Master, I didn't mean to I--"
Elder Zhu raised a hand to him. "Your intentions are not the issue," the scholar interrupted. "But if what you seek is power, then I cannot guide you."
The scholar stood to his full height, his ornate robes billowed in the breeze. "I am afraid that you are not ready."
"M-Master please I--" Lingqi whispered, his voice was choked.
"That is enough for today," the man dismissed his pupil, and his gaze was distant. "Take time to meditate on your actions."
Lingqi stood up slowly, and his head hung low, his hands clenched at his side. The boy did not trust himself to look up, his shame was palpable.
"Yes, master," he murmured, his voice quiet.
Elder Zhu exited the courtyard, his expression was impassive. His mind was consumed with concern.
Ruyi watched the scene unfold with a pang of sadness, and the girl knew that her friend had been torn. She rose to her feet and walked toward him, her steps were slow, and her voice was gentle.
"Lingqi..." Ruyi whispered, her tone was filled with concern.
"Ruyi..." Lingqi turned to his friend, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
She wrapped her arms around him in an embrace, and he rested his head atop of her shoulder, his tears falling onto her sleeve.
Lingqi whispered, his voice trembling.
"I'm a failure."
Ruyi said nothing as she held her friend, his body shuddering with silent sobs. She didn't quite understand why Elder Zhu had admonished him so harshly, and her heart ached with sympathy for the boy. In her mind, Lingqi was amazing, and his gift was to be celebrated.
"Not to me," She said, her hand gliding down the length of his long ravenous locks.
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Elder Zhu strolled the halls of the palace, his troubled thoughts wore heavy on his wrinkled brow, his eyes were clouded, and his heart was filled with unease.
The scholar understood that Lingqi was gifted, but what he had sensed within him - what he had seen, there had been no record of such an ability, and it frightened him.
His colleague Master Zhang had theorized that such strength could have been born from tragedy. The boy's emotions fueled his Prana, and he tapped into his negative feelings, his pain, and his loss, his rage. It was antithetical to the teachings of the academies of the Sovereignty, and the scholar knew it was a path he could not allow the boy to tread.
But he could not abandon him - his words may have been harsh, but he wanted his student to reflect, to learn, and to understand.
The scholar entered his chambers and was greeted by the familiar sight of parchment and scrolls scattered haphazardly across his desk. A mountain of documents that never seemed to diminish, his work was unending, and he felt the years weigh heavily on him.
It was times like these that meditation served as a welcome respite. It allowed him to reflect, to process, and to clear his mind.
And right now, he needed that clarity.
Elder Zhu lit his incense burner and placed it atop his desk, its faint aroma a welcoming sensation, a hint of lavender, a subtle blend of jasmine, a trace of camphor, and the scholar felt himself relax.
He took a deep breath, and his mind became still.
Elder Zhu focused on the energy within him, and the waters remained calm - as still as a frozen pond.
How could he share this tranquility with Lingqi, he wondered. How could he help him to find his center, to find peace?
A sudden disturbance broached upon the elder's mindscape. Tendrils of dark smoke crept across the surface of his lake, its touch was cold, and its presence was malevolent.
Elder Zhu steadied his breathing, and he remained composed in the face of the intrusion. The smoke curled and writhed, tendrils of shadow coalescing into a dark mass, a figure cloaked in shadows.
Its form was humanoid, and it radiated an aura of malice, a sinister miasma that seeped into the scholar's consciousness.
The scholar had been aware of the interloper's identity in spite of the veil of shadows that concealed its face. The energies it exuded were familiar, and his suspicions were confirmed when the shadow spoke in that all too familiar voice.
"What did you see when you gazed upon his Prana?" The crone's voice echoed through the scholar's mind, its words were akin to a serpent's hiss.
Elder Zhu's heart beat with uncertainty.
So, he and Master Zhang's fears had been realized.
He hadn't sensed her presence and yet she had always been present, mirroring their movements as if she was their own shadow.
"You have finally revealed yourself," the scholar stated. "And after all these years. I thought you were dead."
"One cannot truly understand the depths of cultivation while shackled by the tenets of the Sovereignty," the crone stated, her voice a sibilant whisper.
The scholar did not need to ask what she meant. The practice of cultivation was a pathway to prolonging one's life, a method to increase longevity. But to push it this far?
"Why are you interested in Lingqi? I know of your encounter with him in the academy," the scholar spoke, weary of her intentions. "He is nothing more than a child."
"Because he is needed for what is to come, for the threat that looms over the Sovereignty," the crone answered.
"The threat? You speak of the Khalkans?" The scholar's brows were furrowed, his lips a thin line.
"The Khalkans? No, not the Khalkans. The threat is not what you may think," the crone said, her words were cryptic. "Now, let us return to my question. When you gazed upon his Prana, what did you see?"
The elder paused, his thoughts a tangle of uncertainty. He sensed neither malice nor ill intent within her question, only a genuine curiosity.
Even now she chose to test him.
"His strength is immeasurable. The sheer amount of power that I sensed... It was beyond anything I have ever encountered," the elder admitted. "He has brought to question all that I have known. And in him, I see the death of cultivation as we know it."
The scholar was met with silence. The room was still, and the air was thick with tension. The tendrils of smoke had stopped their writhing, and the shadow was immobile.
"It is as I thought," the crone began, her words were quiet.
"You have failed me. I have tried to teach you the essence of cultivation, show you the contrast, and yet still you do not understand. He has brought you truth, shown you power, and you refuse to acknowledge his significance. You have not heard a thing that I have taught, and for all I have said, you have never learned to listen."
The shadows grew to frightening lengths, and they slithered towards him, coiling and curling, slithering across the walls, and snaking their way along the floor. The darkness threatened to swallow the scholar whole, shredding through his defenses, the barriers of his mind.
And then, just like that, the darkness faded, and the room returned to normalcy. The shadows receded, the darkness was lifted, and the light once again permeated the room.
Elder Zhu was left alone, and the scholar's shoulders sagged. He felt defeated, his mind a maze of uncertainty.
Had she been seeking reassurance...confirming her beliefs, and cementing her doubts?
Was Lingqi an omen of something worse to come, an abomination, a harbinger of the end?
Elder Zhu shook his head to perish the thought. For however much power that Lingqi wielded, for how tumultuous his emotions had been, he was still an orphan - he was still a child in need. And the boy would need him now more than ever.
He could not allow her influence to reach him.