Lin Feng's new sleeping mat was, as promised, an improvement. Instead of feeling like he was sleeping directly on stone with a thin layer of straw for decoration, it now felt like he was sleeping on stone with a slightly thicker layer of straw for insulation. In the economy of comfort that governed the Beggars' Sect, this was practically luxury.
"I see you're enjoying your victory spoils," Crooked Yang observed as Lin Feng stretched languidly the following morning.
"Absolutely," Lin Feng replied. "I'm considering writing an ode to the fourteen individual pieces of straw that make the difference between torture and merely significant discomfort."
Little Rat appeared beside his mat, silent as her namesake. "Stone Fist is planning something," she whispered. "Heard him and his cronies talking last night after everyone was asleep."
Lin Feng sat up, instantly alert. "Any details on this 'something,' or is it a general, ominous cloud of impending doom?"
"They're going to ambush you during the morning water run," she said. "Three of them, by the old well."
The morning water run was a daily chore for initiates—fetching buckets from the well two streets over to fill the sect's washing barrels. It was typically done in shifts, with different groups assigned each day.
"Let me guess," Lin Feng sighed. "Today happens to be our shift for water duty."
Crooked Yang nodded. "You, me, Little Rat, and... Stone Fist's group."
"What a remarkable coincidence," Lin Feng muttered. "Almost as if someone arranged the schedule to facilitate an unfortunate accident involving me and a deep water source."
"We could tell the elders," Crooked Yang suggested.
Lin Feng shook his head. "And be labeled as tattlers on my third day? Besides, I suspect this is as much a test as anything else." He glanced around the dormitory, noting how several senior disciples were watching the interaction with poorly concealed interest. "The Beggars' Sect doesn't strike me as an organization that coddles its members."
"So what's the plan?" Little Rat asked, eyes bright with anticipation.
Lin Feng grinned. "Who says we need to wait for an ambush?"
---
An hour later, six initiates trudged toward the community well, wooden buckets in hand. Lin Feng, Crooked Yang, and Little Rat led the way, with Stone Fist and two burly companions following several paces behind.
"They're whispering," Crooked Yang murmured. "Probably deciding how to make your drowning look accidental."
"I'm touched by their consideration," Lin Feng replied dryly. "Proper presentation is important in attempted murder."
The well was located in a small square surrounded by abandoned buildings—once merchants' homes before the district had fallen into decline. Early morning mist still clung to the cobblestones, and the square was deserted save for their small group.
"Perfect spot for an ambush," Lin Feng observed cheerfully. "Isolated, multiple escape routes, and a convenient body-disposal facility right in the center. Stone Fist may be a thug, but he's not entirely without strategic thinking."
"You're awfully calm about potentially being drowned," Crooked Yang noted.
"Panic rarely improves a situation," Lin Feng shrugged. "Besides, I've been planning my counterattack since we left the compound."
"That's barely two minutes of planning," Little Rat pointed out.
"Quality over quantity," Lin Feng replied with a wink. "Now, here's what we're going to do..."
They reached the well, and Lin Feng made a show of setting down his buckets and stretching his back. "Nothing like manual labor before breakfast to build character," he announced loudly. "Stone Fist, you look like you're bursting with character. Why don't you draw the first bucket?"
The larger boy scowled, clearly thrown off by Lin Feng's direct address. This wasn't how ambushes were supposed to work—the target shouldn't be so irritatingly cheerful and aware.
"After you," Stone Fist growled. "Winners first, right?"
"So considerate," Lin Feng smiled. "But I insist. After all, your arms are so much more developed than mine. All that stone punching, I assume?"
Stone Fist's companions snickered despite themselves, which only darkened their leader's expression. With obvious reluctance, he approached the well, his back to Lin Feng—a rookie mistake in any confrontation.
As Stone Fist leaned over to grab the rope, Lin Feng nodded subtly to Little Rat, who darted forward with incredible speed. Her small hands worked in a blur, and suddenly Stone Fist's loosely-tied belt was in her grasp. She retreated just as quickly, leaving the larger boy unknowingly vulnerable.
"You know," Lin Feng said conversationally, "I've been thinking about yesterday's competition. Specifically, about balance."
Stone Fist turned, suspicion evident in his glare. "What about it?"
"It's such a precarious thing," Lin Feng continued, casually walking closer. "One moment you're perfectly stable, and the next..." He stopped just outside of striking distance. "You're all wet."
With perfect timing, Crooked Yang stuck out his foot as Lin Feng had instructed. Stone Fist, moving forward to grab Lin Feng, tripped and lurched toward the well. As he flailed for balance, his loosened pants slid down to his ankles, tangling his legs completely.
With a yell of surprise, Stone Fist toppled headfirst into the well. There was a significant splash, followed by outraged sputtering.
"I'm not sure that water is entirely clean," Lin Feng observed, peering down at the thrashing figure. "But I hear cold immersion is excellent for cooling hot tempers."
Stone Fist's companions stood frozen in shock, unable to process how quickly their ambush had reversed.
"You two have a choice," Lin Feng told them pleasantly. "You can join your friend for a morning swim—" he gestured to where Crooked Yang stood ready with a large stone, "—or you can help us pull him out and we'll call this unfortunate incident even."
After a brief moment of calculation, both boys moved to help lower the rope. Stone Fist emerged like a dripping, enraged bull, his face purple with a combination of embarrassment and fury.
"You'll pay for this," he sputtered, struggling to pull up his soaked pants.
"Technically, you fell in on your own," Lin Feng pointed out reasonably. "We're just helping you out. That's what sect brothers do for each other, isn't it? Help in times of... dampness?"
Stone Fist lunged forward with a roar, but his waterlogged clothes and slippery footing betrayed him. His punch went wide, and Lin Feng sidestepped with the precise timing of someone who had dodged many angry fists in his short life.
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"Temper, temper," Lin Feng chided. "The elders might start wondering why you returned soaking wet and angry. Questions might be asked about failed ambushes. Information might emerge about certain nocturnal plotting sessions."
Stone Fist froze, his face shifting from rage to calculation as he realized his predicament.
"Or," Lin Feng continued, "we could all agree that you accidentally fell while drawing water, and we all helped you out like the supportive sect brothers we are. No ambush, no humiliation, no... consequences."
A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the dripping of water from Stone Fist's clothes.
"Fine," the larger boy finally growled. "This time."
"Excellent!" Lin Feng clapped his hands together. "Now let's get this water back before the elders send someone to check on us. I'd hate for anyone to miss Lao Wei's special morning tea."
As they filled their buckets and began the trek back to the compound, Little Rat sidled up to Lin Feng. "That was brilliant," she whispered. "You knew he'd fall for it."
"People who rely on intimidation are often the easiest to manipulate," Lin Feng replied quietly. "Their egos can't resist a challenge, and their anger makes them predictable."
"You've got experience with bullies," Crooked Yang observed from his other side.
Lin Feng's smile turned slightly bitter. "Three years on the streets teaches you to read threats quickly. The ones who announce their intentions are usually the least dangerous."
"Stone Fist won't forget this," Little Rat warned, glancing back at the dripping boy who was glaring daggers at Lin Feng's back.
"I'm counting on it," Lin Feng replied. "He'll be so focused on getting even that he'll become even more predictable."
"You're kind of scary," Crooked Yang decided after a thoughtful pause. "In an impressive way."
Lin Feng laughed. "Survival isn't about being the strongest or the scariest. It's about being the most adaptable." He patted his new friend on the shoulder. "Now let's hurry back. I have my first special training session today, and I'd hate to be late for whatever new form of torture Lao Wei has devised."
---
Qi manipulation training, as it turned out, bore a striking resemblance to standing perfectly still for hours while holding uncomfortable positions.
"This is your idea of specialized training?" Lin Feng asked as he held a stance with his arms extended like branches of a particularly ambitious tree. "Because it feels remarkably similar to punishment."
Lao Wei circled him with a critical eye. "The vessel must be properly aligned before it can channel qi effectively. Your meridians are like rivers—any blockage prevents smooth flow."
They were in a small courtyard behind the main compound, separated from the other initiates who were engaged in basic forms training. The privacy would have been flattering if it weren't for the increasingly painful positions Lao Wei kept adjusting him into.
"I believe my rivers are about to cramp," Lin Feng muttered as Lao Wei nudged his elbow slightly higher.
"Hold this position," the older beggar instructed. "Feel the tension along your arm? That's resistance in your meridians. Breathe into it, imagine the pathways widening."
Lin Feng tried to focus on his breathing rather than the burning sensation in his muscles. To his surprise, as he directed his attention to the areas of greatest discomfort, he could indeed sense something—like water pressing against a narrow passage.
"There's... pressure," he said hesitantly. "Like something wants to move but can't."
"Exactly!" Lao Wei looked pleased. "That's stagnant qi. Most people accumulate it throughout their lives without ever knowing. Cultivators learn to sense it and clear it, allowing energy to flow freely."
"And the method for clearing it is... standing like a demented scarecrow until my arms fall off?"
"The method is awareness," Lao Wei corrected. "Position creates pressure, pressure creates awareness, awareness creates change. Now, direct your breath to the point of greatest resistance."
Lin Feng focused on a particularly tight spot in his left shoulder, imagining his breath flowing there like water seeking a channel through rock. Gradually, the pressure seemed to shift, then suddenly release. A warm tingling sensation spread down his arm, and the burning discomfort eased dramatically.
"I felt something move!" Lin Feng exclaimed, surprised.
"Your first meridian clearing," Lao Wei nodded approvingly. "Most take weeks to achieve that level of sensitivity."
"Is that why you've been watching me?" Lin Feng asked, recalling Little Rat's observation about the elders' special attention. "Because I learn quickly?"
Lao Wei's expression became more guarded. "Partly. The Vagrant Cloud Path manifests differently in each person. Some show particular aptitude that suggests... specific potential."
"That's deliberately vague," Lin Feng observed. "Are you saying I'm special, or just an interesting experimental subject?"
"Perhaps both," Lao Wei admitted. "Your qi sensitivity is unusual for one without prior training. And your approach to challenges shows creativity that most cultivators lack."
"You mean my stunning victory over Stone Fist this morning?" Lin Feng asked innocently.
Lao Wei's eyebrows shot up. "News travels fast, I see."
"Especially when it's dripping wet and cursing loudly."
"Indeed." Lao Wei's lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "I assume you handled it without requiring elder intervention?"
"Of course," Lin Feng replied. "Violence would have been predictable. Humiliation was far more effective."
"A lesson worthy of the Vagrant Cloud Path," Lao Wei nodded. "But be cautious. Enemies who lose face are doubly dangerous."
"I'm counting on it," Lin Feng said. "His anger makes him transparent."
"Clever," Lao Wei acknowledged. "But remember, true mastery lies not in manipulating others, but in controlling oneself."
"So says the sect that teaches begging techniques designed specifically to manipulate donors," Lin Feng pointed out.
Lao Wei laughed. "Touché, little philosopher. Now, let's continue. Next position."
For the next two hours, Lin Feng moved through increasingly complex stances, holding each until he could sense and clear the resistance in his meridians. By the end, he was drenched in sweat but experiencing an unusual clarity, as if his body had been a cloudy pond that was now settling into transparency.
"Enough for today," Lao Wei finally announced. "You've made excellent progress."
Lin Feng collapsed onto a stone bench, his limbs trembling with exertion. "If this is progress, I'd hate to see setbacks. Will I be able to move tomorrow, or should I just plan to roll to my assignments?"
"Pain is temporary, cultivation is eternal," Lao Wei said with infuriating serenity.
"That would be more comforting if I weren't experiencing the pain right now and the cultivation benefits remain theoretical," Lin Feng grumbled.
"Not entirely theoretical," Lao Wei corrected. "Try sensing the qi in this." He produced a smooth river stone from his pocket and placed it in Lin Feng's palm.
Despite his exhaustion, Lin Feng closed his eyes and focused on the stone. Almost immediately, he felt the cool, steady energy within it—far more clearly than he had with the coin two days earlier.
"It's... stronger," he said, surprised. "I can feel it more easily."
"Because your meridians are clearer," Lao Wei explained. "Your sensitivity will continue to improve with practice."
Lin Feng opened his eyes, studying the ordinary-looking stone with new appreciation. "So every object has its own qi signature? Its own... energy fingerprint?"
"Precisely. And once you can reliably read these signatures, you can begin to influence them."
"Influence how?"
Instead of answering, Lao Wei held out his hand for the stone. When Lin Feng returned it, the older beggar closed his eyes briefly. When he opened his palm again, the stone was noticeably warmer.
"You heated it without fire," Lin Feng observed, touching the stone with fascination.
"I transferred some of my qi into it," Lao Wei corrected. "Heat is merely a side effect. The true change is more fundamental."
"And I'll learn to do this?"
"Eventually. For now, focus on sensing and clearing your own meridians. The ability to influence external objects will come with time."
Lin Feng nodded, already imagining the possibilities. "When's our next lesson?"
"Eager despite your complaints?" Lao Wei smiled. "Tomorrow at the same time. For now, you should eat and rest. Your body needs to integrate today's work."
As they walked back toward the main compound, Lin Feng noticed a group of senior disciples watching him with undisguised interest. Their whispered conversation ceased as he approached.
"I appear to be a topic of some fascination," he observed quietly to Lao Wei.
"Success attracts attention," the older beggar replied. "Some admiring, some envious, some calculating. Learn to tell the difference—it may save your life someday."
"Another cheerful lesson from the Vagrant Cloud Path," Lin Feng quipped. "Enemies everywhere, trust no one, paranoia as a lifestyle choice."
"Not paranoia," Lao Wei corrected. "Awareness. There's a difference."
"Is there? Both seem to involve assuming everyone has hidden motives."
"The paranoid fear what they don't understand. The aware seek to understand precisely so they need not fear." Lao Wei's voice took on the formal cadence he used when imparting important lessons. "The Vagrant Cloud Path teaches us to see clearly without judgment, to assess without fear, to act without hesitation."
"You have a saying for everything, don't you?" Lin Feng asked, though there was more fondness than mockery in his tone.
"Three centuries of wisdom condensed into convenient phrasings," Lao Wei agreed with a self-deprecating smile. "Though I suspect you'll create your own versions before long."
They reached the dining hall, where other initiates were already gathering for the midday meal. Lin Feng spotted Crooked Yang and Little Rat saving him a space.
"Your friends await," Lao Wei observed. "Another unusual development. Most new initiates remain isolated for months."
"I'm charming that way," Lin Feng replied. "Plus, it helps to have a common enemy."
"Stone Fist may have inadvertently done you a favor," Lao Wei agreed. "Shared adversity builds stronger bonds than shared prosperity."
"Another saying to add to the collection," Lin Feng noted with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
Lao Wei nodded. "Dawn. Don't be late."
As the older beggar walked away, Lin Feng joined his friends, collapsing onto the bench with a theatrical groan.
"That bad?" Crooked Yang asked sympathetically.
"Imagine holding positions designed by someone who hates arms and legs and wants them to suffer," Lin Feng replied. "Then imagine doing it for hours while an old man gives you cryptic advice about rivers and vessels."
"Sounds awful," Little Rat said, sliding her untouched steamed bun onto his plate.
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow at the unexpected generosity.
"You need it more than me," she shrugged. "Besides, I have three more hidden in my sleeve for later."
"A true friend is one who steals extra food for herself and then shares it with you," Lin Feng declared, accepting the bun gratefully. "I shall compose an ode to your generosity. After I regain feeling in my arms."
As they ate, Lin Feng became aware of Stone Fist watching him from across the hall, his gaze promising future retribution. Beside him sat an older disciple, one of those who had been watching Lin Feng earlier.
"We may have a problem," he muttered to his companions. "Stone Fist appears to have acquired senior backing."
Crooked Yang followed his gaze and grimaced. "That's Iron Palm Chen. He's Stone Fist's cousin from outside the sect. Third-level disciple, known for breaking boards with his bare hands."
"Wonderful," Lin Feng sighed. "Nothing like family connections to elevate a simple rivalry into a potentially lethal situation."
"What will you do?" Little Rat asked, her small face serious.
Lin Feng considered the question as he chewed his bun thoughtfully. The obvious answer was to avoid confrontation—to keep his head down and focus on training. It would be the sensible approach, the path of least resistance.
But Lin Feng had never been particularly sensible, and the path of least resistance rarely led anywhere interesting.
"I'm going to continue as planned," he decided. "Train, learn, and stay one step ahead of Stone Fist's predictable hostility."
"And if Iron Palm gets involved?" Crooked Yang pressed.
Lin Feng smiled, though there was a calculating edge to it that made his friends exchange glances.
"Then we'll have to be more creative, won't we?" he said lightly. "After all, the Vagrant Cloud Path is all about adaptability. And if there's one thing street orphans know how to do, it's adapt."
As he finished his meal, Lin Feng found himself oddly energized despite his physical exhaustion. Three days ago, he had been a hungry thief with no prospects beyond his next meal. Now he was a cultivation initiate with specialized training, friends, enemies, and a growing sense that his life was moving in a direction he had never imagined possible.
It was terrifying, exhilarating, and—though he would never admit it aloud—exactly what he had always wanted: not just to survive, but to matter.
Of course, first he had to survive whatever new challenges tomorrow would bring, starting with Lao Wei's dawn training and quite possibly including Stone Fist's continued attempts at revenge.
One day at a time, he reminded himself. Or as Lao Wei would undoubtedly phrase it: The journey of a thousand li begins with a single step—preferably away from angry sect brothers with wet pants and wounded pride.