Rin wasn't sure when it happened, but somehow he had started to actually enjoy his birthday. It hadn't been exactly as he thought it would be, with the fight and all, but looking at everyone laughing and enjoying their time made him feel content.

Maybe it was the spirit wine, I thought, but it was definitely the most I had seen my mom smile in a very long time. Rin wasn't too sure where his father was or had gone, but he knew that he had some important mission the sect leader gave him. Every time he left, Mom didn’t smile as much anymore, so I was glad to see her smile at least a little bit. I looked around the hall to see if I could spot Mei Mei, but she hadn’t arrived yet, or so Mrs. Chuu informed me when I asked.

I hope she didn’t get into trouble with her grandfather because of Hwei and our spar this afternoon, I thought, frowning just a little.

Suddenly, the music stopped as the young master put up his hand for the crowd to quiet down. As they did, he motioned for a young man to come forward. He had yellow hair and stark blue eyes.

Could he be from the Eastern Empires?

The Eastern and Western Empires were quite a distance apart—an ocean, some of the traveling merchants said. But that sounded too ludicrous to me. How could mortals travel such distances without Qi? Sure, they have boats and the like, but Father always said the sea is unforgiving, and those who trespass on its domain basically forfeit their lives, or something like that.

“This young man is Gui Fang,” the young master said, snapping me out of my musings. I looked at the boy; he had a strange instrument in his hand.

“He is a master of the Zithara.”

Uh, what’s that? I immediately thought, and judging by the murmurs around me, I wasn’t the only one. Deciding to get a better look, I politely moved my way through the growing crowd around the young master.

“Now, going by your faces, you must wonder what that is, yes?” he asked, a playful smirk on his face.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you, but rather show you. Or, well, Gui Fang will. I had planned on him playing after the Winter Forge trial, but due to some circumstances, he could not arrive in time. So, I thought, what better place to let him play than at a birthday celebration?” Some cheers came from a group of mortal nobles.

“Now, without further ado, Master Gui Fang, if you would.” He gestured to the young man, who simply nodded. Gui Fang quickly went across the room to fetch something wrapped in a cloth. He inspected it for a moment before coming back to stand next to the young master.

Before unwrapping the cloth, he paused for a moment and hesitantly asked, “What type of music would you like to hear?” His voice was clear but sounded much younger than I had thought.

Young Master Ryuha tapped his chin, then smiled. “Something that is played in those taverns of yours. Lively music. I’ve only been able to experience it a few times,” he said to Gui Fang, and the younger man smiled.

“Aye, that I can do.” A light shimmered in his eyes. Turning back to the item wrapped in cloth, he started to unwrap it, and my eyes fell on what lay beneath.

The Zithara, as the young master called it, featured a long, slender neck, gracefully extending upward, adorned with intricate frets that glided smoothly between notes. Its form was reminiscent of elegance, with soft, flowing curves that gave it a natural beauty. Sympathetic strings lay delicately beneath. The body of the Zithara, in contrast, was wider and rounder, exuding a sturdy presence. Its bold, solid structure suggested a powerful resonance, far removed from the delicate, gourd-shaped instruments one might expect.

As strange as it was, it was beautiful.

It didn’t take long for Gui Fang to set up. He tested some notes to make sure they were right. Some sounded oddly similar to the sitar. Seemingly finished with his testing, he started to play. It was quick at first, the bright, crisp notes dancing into the air like a spark igniting the room. Gui Fang's fingers moved deftly across the intricate frets, and the Zithara responded with a lively, cascading melody. The high strings shimmered with a playful energy, their quick, light notes filling the room with an infectious rhythm that immediately caught the attention of the crowd. A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but soon, feet began to tap, and heads bobbed in time with the upbeat tempo.

As the tune grew more complex, the lower, thicker strings joined in, grounding the melody with a rich, resonant rhythm that seemed to echo deep within the bones of those listening. The contrast between the airy, ethereal tones of the higher strings and the deep, earthy hum of the lower ones created a vibrant harmony that pulled the room together. It was as if the sound itself was drawing everyone closer, connecting them in a shared experience of pure, unrestrained joy.

The tavern atmosphere Ryuha had requested was brought to life by the Zithara. It wasn’t just the sound—it was the way it moved through the crowd, urging people to laugh, to sway, to let go of any formality. A group of young nobles began clapping in rhythm, others rising from their seats to join an impromptu dance. The music was fast, lively, and full of spirit, like the wild revelry of a night far removed from the grand halls of the aristocracy.

Gui Fang’s hands seemed to blur as he coaxed the Zithara into even more complex patterns, the melody now swirling around the room like a whirlwind, lifting the mood higher with every note. The energy was palpable, and soon, more and more people joined in the dancing. The floorboards creaked under the weight of so many joyous feet, and the air was thick with laughter and the sound of clapping hands.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty, but the music—so alive and intoxicating—left little room for doubt. My mother’s smile was warm, her eyes twinkling with the same infectious energy that now filled the room. Before I knew it, her hand was in mine, gently pulling me into the throng of dancers.

The moment my feet hit the floor, the rhythm of the Zithara took control. The quick, playful melody guided my movements as if it were speaking directly to my body, urging me to follow its lead. Around me, people spun and laughed, their movements flowing with the music in a joyful blur of color and motion. I could feel the vibrations of the instrument's deep, resonant strings through the floor beneath me, the sound wrapping around us like an invisible force, pulling everyone closer together.

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My mother led me through a series of twirls and steps, her laughter bright and free. I couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension I’d been holding onto dissolving in the wake of the lively tune. It was impossible not to get swept up in it—the sheer joy of being surrounded by so much life, so much happiness. The Zithara’s melody seemed to pulse through the very air, guiding every step, every spin, every clap of the hands. The crowd moved as one, the music binding us together in this moment of pure, unrestrained celebration.

As the tempo quickened, I found myself swept into the dance more fully, my feet moving with a grace I hadn’t known I possessed. Each note from the Zithara was like a spark of energy, pushing me onward, faster and faster, until all thought of awkwardness or hesitation was gone. There was only the dance, the music, and the shared joy of the moment.

I caught a glimpse of Gui Fang still where Master Ryuha had left him, his fingers still flying across the strings, a small smile playing on his lips as he saw the effect his music had on us all. It was more than just skill—it was magic, the kind that transcended the ordinary, weaving us all into a spell of pure, ecstatic movement.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, I let go—fully, completely. I wasn’t thinking about the past or the future, about expectations or responsibilities. In that moment, I was simply a part of the music, a part of the dance, surrounded by people who were swept up in the same joyous current.

The Zithara played on, and we danced, lost in the magic of its song. The only thing I wished for in this moment was that Mei Mei was here to enjoy it too.

Still enthralled by the music, I did not notice Young Master Ryuha approaching. His face was flushed a slight pink, with a gourd of wine in his hand. He moved through the crowd of dancers with ease and called out to me.

"Rin!" he shouted. To be honest, if he wanted to, he could have infused it with Qi, but that would disrupt Gui Fang's music, and he didn’t want to do that. So he shouted once again, "Rin!" This time, I jerked my head to see him, a broad smile on my face.

"Young Master," I bowed once again, not wanting to show disrespect. He rolled his eyes but didn’t comment on my bow.

"I think it's time for me to see what I can do for you, yes, while everyone is still enjoying the music." Young Master Ryuha motioned toward the exit of the main hall. Rin looked at him quizzically for a moment. Noticing his confusion, Ryuha tapped his stomach right above where his belly button should be. It dawned on Rin: He’s going to see how he can fix my qi sensing problems! A roar of excitement surged through his mind. Finally, he nodded vigorously. Ryuha chuckled as he guided Rin through the throng of people still dancing to Gui Fang.

"Shouldn't we get Mother as well?" Rin asked as they neared the door. There was no need to shout, as the music wasn’t so loud this far from Gui Fang.

"Not right now. Let her have her fun. I haven’t seen her this happy in a while," Ryuha replied. Rin turned back to see his mother dancing and laughing with one of the Mortal nobles.

"And besides, this shouldn’t take that long," Ryuha added, turning to Rin with a bright smile.

Rin nodded, anticipation bubbling within him.

"Now, where would be the best place? Just need a quiet room," Young Master Ryuha asked.

The study would be best.

"Ah, I think the study, young master. I can take you there," Rin said as he reached for the door.

"That sounds perfect. Lead the way," Ryuha said as Rin opened it. They walked through, quickly making their way to the study from the main hall. The faint sounds of laughter and music still echoed in the distance.

Rin wondered if he would be able to join them after this. Would there be pain? Maybe. But the medicine the medical hall elder had given him was still working well, so hopefully, it could help with this too.

Once they reached the study, Master Ryuha took a cursory glance around. "Yes, this will do nicely. First, let’s clear up some space," he said, snapping his fingers. Rin watched in awe as his mother’s desk, chairs, and other items began moving by themselves.

"If you work hard, you too will be able to do this," Ryuha said, then hesitated. "With enough training and diligence, of course." He chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head.

Rin simply nodded, filled with admiration.

After a few moments, the once cluttered study was now neatly arranged, with a clear space in the middle where the desk had been.

"Now, Rin, you have to do exactly as I say," Young Master Ryuha instructed, his expression growing serious. "This isn’t dangerous in any sense, but let’s be as accurate as possible so we don’t damage anything later." Rin took a deep breath, sensing the gravity in Ryuha’s tone.

If the young master was taking this seriously, so would he.

"I will do what you ask, young master," Rin replied, his determination solidifying.

"Good. Now sit in a lotus position, if you please. I’d like to observe some things first."

Rin complied, settling into position.

"Now, I want to see what you’ve been doing to cultivate, so to speak." Rin frowned but remained silent. He closed his eyes, imagining the small motes of light that were supposed to appear. But, as always—nothing. Just pure, utter darkness.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been at it, but it felt like ages before Ryuha told him to stop. "That’s enough. You can open your eyes. I want you to use your breathing technique now, but don’t focus on cultivating. Do it just for the sake of doing it," he instructed. Rin nodded and began the exercise.

He breathed in through his nose, held it, focusing on spreading it through every cell in his body, then exhaled through his mouth. He repeated this, finding it a bit awkward. Now he understood why people closed their eyes—it was easy to lose focus over the smallest distractions.

How could a stupid paperweight suddenly look so interesting? It did resemble the dragon in his dream—all it needed was a splash of red paint—Argh, focus.

Again, Rin wasn’t sure how long he maintained this for Ryuha, but it felt far worse than his usual cultivation exercises.

Abruptly, Young Master Ryuha spoke. "Rin, where did you learn that breathing technique?" Genuine interest lit up his face. Feeling like he had nothing to hide, Rin shared.

"From my father, young master, before he was sent on his special mission."

"Before the special mission, you say?" A light frown appeared on Ryuha's face but vanished as quickly as it came. "Well, it’s a splendid breathing technique. Maybe I’ll ask your father to show me more in detail when he gets back," he smiled at Rin.

"Now, Rin, one last thing. I want you to cultivate, but instead of using that breathing technique, I want you to use this one." With a wave of his hand, a piece of parchment appeared. "This is one of my own design. Take it," he gestured. Rin hesitated, having never practiced any breathing technique other than the one his father had given him. Should he?

"You know, some of the inner disciples of the sect are currently using a version of this, and they’re doing quite well, if I may say so myself," Young Master Ryuha added, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Remember what I said when we came here?" Young Master gestured toward the room. "I’m not saying you have to change your breathing technique; I only want to test something." There was urgency in his voice that made Rin nervous. He fidgeted for a few seconds before accepting the paper. He read it. Like his own breathing technique, it wasn’t difficult. After committing it to memory, he returned the parchment and nodded.

"You memorized it that quickly? Are you sure you don’t want to look at it again?" Young Master Ryuha asked. Rin shook his head. "Are you absolutely sure I can’t give it back?" Again, Rin shook his head, and Young Master smiled brightly.

"Well, what should I expect? You are Lee's son. Alright, now I want you to close your eyes and do the breathing technique I just gave you," he instructed. Rin nodded.

Just as before, Rin tried to cultivate, but this time, instead of using his father’s breathing technique, he focused on Ryuha’s. He didn’t expect anything to change. No motes of light appeared to signify qi, but he began to feel a pressure just below his navel. It wasn’t painful. A flutter of hope bloomed in his chest as he focused on the pressure, willing whatever qi was nearby to move toward it. Just as excitement surged within him, he heard a pop and crack—and then pain.

Pain worse than when he broke bones. Worse even than Mei's qi attacks. This was something far, far worse. His concentration shattered, and he did the only thing he could do—he screamed and screamed.