Instructor Xia Ji stood at the edge of the training ground, her eyes keenly observing Kai's every movement. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the field, illuminating the determination etched on the young herbalist's face. She had seen many students come and go, but Kai's progress, particularly since yesterday, was nothing short of astonishing.

As Li Na, a skilled third-class disciple, readied herself for another round of sparring, Xia Ji noticed a subtle change in Kai. He seemed more attuned, more responsive than the day before. His eyes darted keenly, tracking Li Na's every shift in weight, every minute change in her stance.

"Begin!" Xia Ji commanded.

Li Na lunged forward, her palm cutting through the air towards Kai. But this time, Kai was different. His body was already moving even before Li Na's strike could reach him. He twisted his torso, aligning his body in such a way that he redirected the flow of Li Na's power, diffusing the momentum of her strike.

Xia Ji's eyes narrowed, impressed. Kai was not just blocking the strikes; he was manipulating their flow, turning their force to his advantage. The foundation of the Bamboo Reprisal Counter. It was a technique that required acute observation and a deep understanding of one's own body and the opponent's movements. And Kai was executing it with a proficiency that belied his limited training.

'I thought it would take a week for him to understand it at this level...His responses are akin to muscle memory, but how could it develop so quickly?'

For a full minute, the sparring continued, with Li Na unleashing a series of rapid strikes. Yet, Kai managed to keep up, his body swaying and twisting like bamboo in the wind, never once getting knocked down.

"Enough," Xia Ji finally said, stepping forward. Both disciples halted, turning towards her with expectant eyes. She wiped a droplet of sweat from her brow, her mind racing at Kai's frightening learning speed.

"It's time we begin with the forms of the Bamboo Reprisal Counter," she announced, her voice steady despite the astonishment she felt.

Kai's eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and curiosity. Li Na stepped back, giving them space.

Xia Ji walked closer to Kai, her gaze scrutinizing. "Your performance today has been commendable. However, there's much to learn. The Rooted Banyan Stance, while formidable in defense, restricts your movement due to the need to tense your body."

Kai nodded in agreement, his breathing still heavy from the spar. "Yes, Instructor. I've felt that limitation."

"The Bamboo Reprisal Counter, on the other hand, offers mobility along with the opportunity for a counter-attack," Xia Ji continued, her hands clasping behind her back. "It's about blending the fluidity of movement with the strength of defense. Your key to victory lies in using these two techniques at the right place, at the right time."

The herbalist stared back at her, his dark, brown eyes unwavering. "Yes, Instructor Xia Ji! I understand."

"Get into your stance! We'll break down how the counter moves depending on the opponent's attack..."

----------------------------------------

I wiped the dirt off my sleeve, panting lightly. The Bamboo Reprisal Counter was harder to learn than I thought. Because of its nature as a counter, it had multiple versions that corresponded to how my opponent struck me. But for that, I needed a great amount of flexibility, as well as an understanding of reflex and sensitivity to another's movements.

Engaging against Li Na with a simple drill where we try to unbalance one another by pushing or pulling. I could feel how fast her reflexes were compared to mine. It seemed her strength laid in reaction rather than action. The amount of times I fell on my back was uncountable. Her encouraging words made me slightly better every time I got up.

With the rest of the training session devoted to drilling me in flexibility exercises, I was dismissed from practice with sore muscles and an aching feeling throughout my legs and back.

I collapsed by a tree, the cool shade a welcome respite from the relentless sun that had beaten down on us during training. My muscles ached with every movement, a testament to the rigors of the flexibility exercises. Each breath I drew was a mix of pain and satisfaction.

"Here, drink this." The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Li Na stood before me, extending a flask of water with a look of incredulity on her face. Her brows were furrowed, not with concern, but with something akin to disbelief.

I accepted the flask gratefully, the cool liquid a balm to my parched throat. "Thanks," I muttered, still trying to catch my breath.

"How did you get so good so fast?" Li Na asked, sitting down beside me. Her tone was light, but I could sense the genuine curiosity behind her words.

I chuckled weakly, shaking my head. It was a nice compliment that lightened my heart, but I knew not to get excited. I was just happy that my progress looked like it was going according to Instructor Xia Ji's expectations. "It's not about being good. I just went over your fighting style again and again in my mind. I'm not some sort of genius, just observant and determined."

In my mind, though, I knew it was more than that. It wasn't just about learning the technique or the stance. It was about understanding Li Na's moves, her habits, her tells. That's what made the difference in today's sparring session.

I lost count of how many times I reimagined the fight. Visualization within my Memory Palace technique was only as good as my own imagination; I couldn't capture the full extent of her capabilities within my mindscape. I can visualize the power and speed behind her strikes, but what about her other techniques? I couldn't mimic things I've never seen before.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

My success lay more in my familiarity with her style rather than my grasp of the technique itself. If I had sparred with a different disciple, I don't think I could've displayed even half of what I accomplished today.

Li Na seemed to ponder my words, her eyes studying me thoughtfully. "I don't know," she finally said, her tone playful yet serious. "Putting something you've learned into practice so quickly and effectively isn't something everyone can do."

I could only offer a shrug in response, my mind already wandering to other concerns. I hoped that being knocked around like this wouldn't mess with my memory, I still needed my brain for early-morning classes.

She stood up, dusting off her robes. "Come on, let's go to the dining hall. You need to eat."

Together, we made our way to the hall, the sounds of the bustling sect around us. Inside, the hall was filled with the aroma of freshly prepared meals, the clatter of utensils, and the buzz of conversation. We found Han Wei already there, his plate piled high with food.

"Hey, you two," he greeted us with a wide grin. "How'd training go?"

As they engaged in conversation about their day's activities, I ate quietly, my thoughts drifting. I glanced at the food options, none of which would be suitable for Windy, the spirit beast snake hatchling hiding in my room. I frowned, considering my options. There were no meat alternatives here, and I couldn't very well reveal Windy's existence.

A plan began to form in my mind. I would have to find food for Windy on my own, or perhaps make a trip to Crescent Bay City. But how long could Windy hold out? The thought nagged at me, a persistent worry amidst the sea of other concerns.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, orange hue over the sect, I excused myself and headed back to my guest quarters. Li Na and Han Wei bade me farewell. The walk was a time for reflection, for planning. I needed to find a solution for Windy, and soon.

"...I mean, I'm not a sect disciple. I could probably head out tonight and get it as quickly as possible with Elder Zhu's permission."

The idea brewed in my mind for a moment.

Reaching the guest quarters, the fading sunlight cast elongated shadows across the wooden frame of the building. A sense of unease crept over me as I approached my room. I usually kept everything meticulously closed, a habit from my days back home where leaving a window open could mean a night filled with unwelcome insects. I opened the room, expecting Tianyi and Windy to awaken upon my arrival.

But now, the window was slightly ajar. The room eerily absent.

My heart skipped a beat. Tianyi and Windy. I pushed open the door, my eyes darting around the room. It was empty. The windowsill, where Tianyi often rested, was vacant, and Windy's usual coiled spot was just a patch of cold wood. A surge of panic rose within me, and my mind raced with terrifying possibilities. Kidnapping? An attack?

I rushed to the window, my eyes scanning for any signs of struggle, but there was nothing – no broken furniture, no scattered belongings. Even the treasured beast core laid by the bed, untouched. Just an open window and a deafening silence. Tianyi, despite her fragile appearance, was more than capable of defending herself. If there had been an intruder, there would have been a sign, a clue, something.

I leaned out of the window, looking down. The drop was about two zhang, not lethal, but certainly not a jump for the faint-hearted. I pushed qi to my feet, the energy coursing through me, and leapt. The ground rushed up to meet me, but the qi cushioned my landing, leaving me unscathed.

I scanned the area behind the guest quarters. A small clearing of grass transitioned into a forest, its trees standing tall and foreboding as the light dimmed. My instincts screamed at me to follow, to venture deeper into the unknown. I cursed under my breath for not securing the window properly, for being so careless.

The forest loomed before me, an impenetrable wall of shadows and whispers under the rising moon's eerie glow. As I ventured into its depths, the sounds of the night enveloped me – the rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the subtle crackle of unseen creatures moving in the underbrush. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the musky odor of wild foliage, a stark contrast to the sterilized halls of the sect.

As I stepped into the forest, a thousand scenarios played out in my mind. Had Tianyi chased after an insect and gotten lost? Had Windy, curious and naive, slithered out following some scent? Or was it something worse? My thoughts spiraled, each possibility more frightening than the last.

I pushed through the underbrush, my senses heightened. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig set my nerves on edge. I strained my ears, hoping to hear the familiar flutter of Tianyi's wings or the soft slithering of Windy. But there was only the sound of my own ragged breaths and the occasional hoot of an owl. The deeper I delved into the forest, the more my anxiety grew. My imagination conjured up every possible peril – from venomous snakes coiling in the shadows to predatory beasts lurking just out of sight. The memory of Tianyi's narrow escape from the crow's deadly beak sent a shiver down my spine.

Focus, Kai! They need you.

I reminded myself, trying to push away the dread that clawed at my mind.

Tianyi's playful nature, her tendency to explore. Perhaps she had simply wandered off, and Windy, ever the curious one, had followed. I clung to that thought, willing it to be true.

My eyes darted to every shadow, every movement. The forest seemed to come alive with imaginary threats, each more menacing than the last. But amidst the chaos of my thoughts, a small, rational voice whispered, reminding me of Tianyi's strength, of Windy's resilience.

I slowed my pace, taking deep breaths, trying to calm the storm within me. 'Think, Kai. Where would they go? What would attract them?'

A sudden rustling to my left caused me to freeze. Heart pounding, I turned, half-expecting to see a predator, but it was only a small forest creature, its eyes glinting in the moonlight before it scampered away. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Every sound, every movement, seemed amplified in the stillness of the night, each one sending a jolt of fear through me.

The forest opened up to a small clearing, the moon casting a soft glow over the grass. I paused, scanning the area. It was peaceful, serene – a stark contrast to the turmoil in my heart. I couldn't let my thoughts go wildly like this. I needed to calm myself.

I sat down, closing my eyes, focusing on my breathing. In, out. In, out. Gradually, the panic subsided, replaced by a quiet determination. I would find them. I had to.

The bond I shared with them was more than just that of a cultivator and spirit beasts; it was a bond of friendship, of family. Losing them would leave a void that no amount of cultivation could fill. Even though my time with Windy was short, it didn't make them any less valuable than Tianyi.

I steeled my resolve, focusing inward, trying to tap into the emotional bond I shared with Tianyi. It was a connection I seldom fully explored, its nuances still a mystery to me. The bond felt faint, a mere whisper in the back of my mind, which could mean two things: either Tianyi was far away, or she was calm, her emotions neutral.

I had to trust this slender thread of connection, assuming it would strengthen as I neared her. The Verdant Lotus sect's territory blended seamlessly into the dense forest, a wild expanse unmarred by walls or barriers. The thought of Tianyi and Windy lost in this vast wilderness sent a shiver down my spine.

I quickened my pace, every step a silent prayer. The forest around me was alive with nocturnal sounds – the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, the occasional call of a night bird. The moon cast a silver glow through the canopy, creating a tapestry of light and shadow on the forest floor.

The deeper I ventured, the more I relied on the faint emotional tether to guide me. At times, the bond felt so tenuous I feared it might snap, leaving me adrift in this sea of green. But then, a glimmer of satisfaction, a feeling that wasn't my own, surged through the bond. It was faint, like the touch of a breeze, but unmistakably there.

Encouraged, I quickened my steps, following the direction that seemed to strengthen the connection. The forest was no longer just an array of trees and underbrush; it was a puzzle, and each step I took was a piece falling into place.

The terrain grew more rugged, the trees taller, their branches weaving a dense canopy overhead. The moonlight struggled to penetrate this natural barrier, casting the forest in deep, shifting shadows. I navigated carefully, mindful of roots that sought to trip me and branches that threatened to snag my clothes.

With every step, the bond pulsed stronger, a beacon in the darkness guiding me forward. My heart raced, not just from the physical exertion but from a growing sense of anticipation. The emotion through the bond was still faint, but it was more defined now, a subtle undercurrent of contentment that wasn't mine.

I broke into a light jog, my eyes scanning the darkened forest for any sign of them. The underbrush grew thicker, and I pushed through, branches scratching at my skin, leaves brushing against my face. The forest seemed endless, a labyrinth of nature that stretched into the unknown.

But the bond, that elusive thread of connection, was my lifeline. It pulsed stronger with each step, a guiding light in the enveloping darkness. I clung to it, letting it lead me, drawing me deeper into the heart of the forest.

As I moved, my mind raced with possibilities. What had drawn Tianyi and Windy out here? Curiosity? Pursuit of something? Or had they sensed something that I, with my limited human senses, could not?

The forest began to open up, the dense underbrush giving way to a clearer area. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body drenched in sweat. Everything was sore and fatigued from practice. But I couldn't stop, not when I was this close.

Hang on, Tianyi, Windy. I'm coming.