Dejiu woke with a yawn. It washed away the remnants of slumber, replaced with the hot tinge of the Seventh Hell’s air.

“Pah, pah! To think you guys live here…” Dejiu coughed and rubbed his dirty kasaya robe over his mouth.

“Good morning, little monk. Begin training your cultivation method, you mustn’t falter with just this.”

“Right, right,” Dejiu said, scratching his tingling behind as he got up to do some stretches. “Agh, my ass hurts. Do you have sleeping mats in the Seventh Hell? Wait… are you even from the Seventh Hell?”

“Curious?” Bing Xin paused briefly before coyly saying, “We can play a game before you cultivate. Sit down and take a guess, just one. I won’t confirm any others, so do be careful. I swear it.”

Dejiu sat in a familiar lotus position and closed his eyes. Shit. I want to know, but just one? Uhm. Which one should I pick? If she somehow attached herself to me… and even hid from the Abbot’s senses all this time, then she must be really strong, right? Now that I have the time to think about it, isn’t this bad? Like really bad?

A small shiver ran down his back as his mentality broke past the absurdity of what was happening to him. Dammit Xue Dejiu, how’d you even get into this mess?

After a long pause, he took a small gamble. “Are you… from the First Hell?”

Bing Xin erupted in laughter before she responded. “I’m not. Now enough dawdling, begin cultivating. You know what to do — use those petals.”

Dejiu muttered an insult. With the hellish air biting into his skin, he closed his eyes. He pictured the mountain avens, the same one he once saw blooming defiantly in the snow. Probably the only flower from the botany book he saw in person. Its pure white petals unfurled in his mind's eye, glistening with frozen dew.

He inhaled deeply, pulling in the volatile ambient prana around him. His core wavered, unstable, as it always was — but this time, he approached it differently. The base idea was already formed from yesterday after all.

He circulated the prana in layers, mimicking the blooming of the flower. The prana flows outward from the core in concentric spirals, each layer representing a petal. The petals are formed by condensing prana into concentrated bursts of energy, which gradually spiral inward and "fall" back into the core like shedding petals. But he did so in a series of “seasons” just as a normal flower would wilt in the winter and bloom in the spring.

Except when it wilted, it hurt like hell. A common outcome because his breathing and prana cycling wouldn’t align. Well, also the nature of his prana too, who wouldn’t thought that destructive hell prana would hurt?

Instead of forcing the prana into rigid order, Dejiu allowed it to flow naturally, guiding it with his will. Spring.

The first spiral of prana formed, like a single petal unfolding. It quivered, raw and unrefined, but Dejiu kept his focus. The first petal is the hardest of spring. The first must carve the way for the others to follow.

Each cycle grew more stable as he layered one petal upon another, forming a blooming spiral of energy. Sparks of volatile prana burned at the edges of the petals, and Dejiu gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow.

The spirals intensified, glowing faintly within his body. But just as he reached the seventh petal, a burning jolt of pain tore through him and he spat blood. He felt something trickle down his eye, hopeful it was just tears instead of blood. Normal. What a wild flower, but such is the nature of destructive prana.

Dejiu grinned as he guided the cycle through summer. Summer follows the bloom of spring.

The spirals collapsed inward, threatening to shatter his aspen flower core. Fall, like petals in the mist-laden wind that ushers a new winter.

Instead of resisting, Dejiu allowed the spirals to crumble. The energy surged inward, collapsing into his flower core, condensing into something sharper, more dense. One cycle of the seasons is completed. Amateurish? Yes. But completed nonetheless.

Again.

—

[Prana Core: Mid Initiate]

[Prana: 32/32]

How many Hell Shards have I taken in now… but even then, I’m already rising much faster than I have before. Dejiu thought as he weakly stood up. The effort had drained him, and his head throbbed from the strain of focusing so intensely. But he couldn’t help but smile.

“It is an excellent technique for your stage, little monk.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Ah, right. I forgot this woman can hear anything and everything.” Dejiu said. He picked up his spade and continued his descent.

Then he frowned. His right hand clutched the spade’s shaft and then released it. He did it again a few times before he looked up and asked, “Miss Bing Xin? Am I stronger?”

“Very slightly. It is a wonder how you didn’t notice it yesterday despite absorbing all those shards yesterday, even breaking through to the Mid Initate Stage.”

“Huh. Yeah, you’re right… I am stronger.” Dejiu slowly laughed.

“Yes, you have gotten stronger. A little better than a dog’s droppings, but droppings nonetheless. I think you–”

Bing Xin oddly paused before her tone shifted.

“Little monk, complete the next two chambers on your own. Take no more than a day no matter how dangerous it is. Kill them. Kill them all. Guile. Might. Sacrifice. Those three principles alone will take you far, little monk. I must leave you for a moment, someone… troublesome has arrived.”

“Huh?” Dejiu blurted out, immediately looking around his surroundings. “Hey, hey explain more!”

But no one responded.

Muffling a curse, Dejiu suppressed his urge to ask her again because he knew he’d get no response. “Someone troublesome? Where even is she?”

And so he climbed down — truly alone this time. But that didn’t stop him from improving his passive prana cycling. With each step, he trained to circulate his prana better.

Eventually, he came upon the first chambers he must pass alone. And it was… different.

A single enemy. A single Hollow Talon, but one starkly similar to the big one he ran away from, unlike the three from earlier.

“I’ve got this, right?”

But before he could step foot into the chamber he stopped himself.

“You’re in the Seventh Hell practically, you fool.” Dejiu slapped his cheek hard. “Being cocksure is how you end up mauled or impaled.”

Before she left me, she said that these Hollow Talons act… weird because of their progenitor. That’s why the one above didn’t chase me back inside. Amitabha! That wench! She didn’t expand on why!

His mind came to a conclusion. It was dumb, to say the least. But he’ll still push his luck because even with the temporary strength burst he obtained from his cultivation method, he didn’t think he could kill the ugly thing.

Surpass my limits? Bah, this isn’t some heroic tale. Come on Xue Dejiu, you’re a bald monk.

His decision? He was going to run in and inflict as much damage as he could swiftly and run back to the stairwell. He had one major reason to believe it would work. It was because the fat thing could barely fit through the entryway to the stairs. Having explored a little, he realized it was damn near a miracle for the fat one he escaped from even climbed up!

…Regardless, even if the thing could chase him onto the stairs, he wouldn’t have to worry about long curved attacks with its abnormally long limbs. They’ll be wedged against the walls. It’ll be a frontal assault.

“Well it’s one thing with words, to put it in action…” He muttered, studying its torso for any of the faintly glowing weak points. Sure enough, there was. More, even. An area depleted of stone-like feathers exposed an entire swathe of shriveled skin. And beneath that shriveled skin? A smoldering orange.

“Heh.”

Dejiu lightly jumped and cocked his arm. He wondered what weakened and injured these Hollow Talons — something to do with their progenitor? Perhaps even among daimons, these wretched wingless birds were persecuted. Just like he’d be if his daimon companion was revealed. Ha! That’ll never happen, right?

Tired of delaying his attack any longer, Dejiu moved on from his musings. “Now!” He used the Wilted Stem technique for a burst of strength.

His prana cycled quickly, like the onset of a spring sun melting away the snow surface. He ignored the harsh caws of the daimon and hunched himself in a bundle of explosiveness.

“There it is!”

He wouldn’t be caught in the stoney feather barrage again, leaping into a dirty tumble before rushing once more. He was so close now. The hellish chamber seemed to narrow to the dense pulse of blood running through his veins, and the wicked jolt of his feet impacting the ground with every frantic step.

Dejiu’s eyes narrowed. Locked on that orange point. In a single fluid motion, Dejiu burst past its two arms, drawing his spade back before fiercely stabbing the broad spade-end. The cracked feathers around the weak point gave in and his entire spade’s head punched through the daimon’s torso. The cold iron weapon made for penetrating blows and burying corpses cut through with ease.

A broad cut the width of a skinny man’s torso spilled so much ichor that Dejiu thought the Hollow Talon would die immediately. But he wasn’t so lucky.

“Amitabha!” He yelped. The left arm came crashing against the side of his side. Fortunately, he rolled with the blow, but that didn’t mean he was clean.

His prana cycling was disrupted — something anyone else wouldn’t have an issue with because of how long they’ve been cultivating. But it simply wasn’t second nature to Dejiu yet. So his meridians strained under his violent mix of prana, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood. His head felt dazed and riled up, but Dejiu forced himself to ignore the radiating ache of his… everything.

He had bigger things to worry about. Much bigger, because that thing outsized him by a lot.

He staggered to his feet and eyed the entrance he came into the dim chamber from. Fat bird, try to run with that spade in your gut!

Feinting another attack on the daimon, he pivoted and ran away. Try it!

The daimon sent another flurry of feather arrows again, but Dejiu had long been accustomed to it. The accuracy was poor too, especially as it’s lumbering towards him. He tried to focus on his plan, but then Bing Xin’s words echoed in his head. “Let its blood spill as it wallows in pain? Something among those lines?”

He shook his head. Her words influenced him more than he liked. Teacher Jiansu would smack him top down if his word choice got any worse.

“Huh,” Dejiu grunted as he passed the entryway. He climbed the spiral stairwell as the bleeding Hollow Talon lumbered madly behind. “I wonder if I could meet Teacher Jiansu in the Seventh Hell’s floor. Now that’d be something fun.”