Gai Jin defended.

Consolidating your rank meant knowing your abilities and their limits. Gai Jin had attacked, unleashing all he could and feeling the force flow through him.

He knew how much he could give.

I hit three times at his chest, then his gut.

Now it was time to learn how much he could take.

Blood left his mouth as he was propelled to the edge of the array.

“Good. How much qi did that defense cost you?”

I asked him.

“Ha-half my reserves,” he said.

“Mm, not good,” I grumbled. “Defensive techniques are important. But your technique is failing at almost every front.”

I tossed him a pill and he quickly ingested it.

“How so?” He asked, still panting a little.

“The ideas are powerful, but they are a little limited,” I replied. “Do you know the difference between a mortal and an immortal?”

Gai Jin looked at me as if it were a trick question.

“Yes one lives forever and one doesn’t, but do you know why?”

“You create more innate qi than you need,” he answered.

“Yes, but what is innate qi?”

“It’s the qi that provides you with life.”

“Yes but why?”

Gai Jin looked a little stumped.

“Because it is you?” Barlo said with false confusion.

“Yes,” I said with a slow nod.

“Innate qi is qi made by your lower dantian, yes. But it’s also your most personal qi. It is fuel made by you just for you and regardless of how much qi you have, you’ll die if you run out of innate qi.”

Gai Jin nodded.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“As an immortal, you produce more innate qi than you consume. So why not use it?”

“What?” Gai Jin stated. Rou Xin looked just as horrified and Barlo Hew did his best to copy him.

“Try it,” I stated.

“But-”

“You don’t need to attack with innate qi, just try mixing the attack with your spirit qi and see what happens.”

Gai Jin looked at me with a bit of worry.

“You’re an immortal now, you need to fight like one.”

He nodded.

We both took our places at the edge of the array. Gai Jin breathed, he closed his eyes, and he moved.

Light lost him for a moment, an instant. An unnoticeable bit of time for mortals.

He moved. Not with just speed or force, or mere power, but with something more. With his very essence, with whatever part of him made him real. His movement was his own, almost separate from the world and everything within it.

Then his palms slammed into my hand.

Gai Jin stood there, staring at his fist for a second.

“The immortal rank is about lengthening your lifespan, yes. But it’s also about separating yourself from the laws that govern mortal men. First is age, then laws, and then everything else beyond it. At the ninth rank, one becomes a demigod, capable of withstanding nothingness and proclaiming your own existence against the void. At the twelfth rank, one becomes a god, capable of doing almost anything you want. The path of a cultivator is to defy the natural chains of life and to do that, you can not rely on anything, not even the ground beneath your feet.”

Gai Jin nodded, still staring at his hand.

“Well, that’s what I’ve heard from stronger men anyway. Let's try that again. You have a real good grasp of who you are and your fundamental dao but you should work on a law.”

“Yes, Master Bill.”

“Now once more.”

After that, he kept using his innate qi, nearly draining his dantian empty.

“I apologize Master Bill. I’ve yet to grow accustomed to this form of combat.”

“Yeah. It’s a bit strange initially, but you’ll get used to it. It’s almost like a baby learning to walk. Balancing, moving, evening turning your head can be hard at first, but you’ll be running before you know it.”

Nai made a noise of agreement from behind me, something about the dangers of using only two limbs to balance.

“It is strange,” Gai agreed. “But it is…different. I don’t know how to describe it exactly. I don’t cause more damage with it but I am…more.”

“It’s resilience,” I explained. “Your attacks contain a bit of you in them. Instead of just the concept of a punch or a cut, they contain a bit of you. A bit of your weight and existence. Your actions become more permanent and real. It’s the same reason why this landscape remains unchanged for eons after a cultivator's actions. From the demon corpses beneath your sects to the Great Desert Strip and even the Flower Sword’s Broken Isles. It was all done by powerful cultivators. People who declared themselves against the heavens.”

It was getting dark and the sun was fighting valiantly against the horizon. The sky was colored pink, with many moons and planets shining in the distance. Cultivators lived there of course, and even some mortals.

To me, they were like next-door neighbors. I could see them easily from here.

Gai Jin’s eyes glimmered as he did the same.

“I did not know the skies were so alive,” he whispered.

“We’re cultivators,” I shrugged. “But we’re also human. On the earth, in the skies, and in the void beyond. We live, we push, we are. That’s the best and worst part of all this immortal stuff. The stars may die and the land may change, but people won’t. We’ll always be here, living and dying as we always have.”

“Is that a good thing?” Gai asked.

“No. But it’s not a bad thing either. Humanity persists, as does life.”

Gai Jin nodded and all six of them shared a moment of silence, that was until the dog took a noticeably loud piss not too far away from the fire.