Two Days Later...

The Luo Clan Mountain Meditation Palace

A young boy was squatting in the horse stance beneath a beautifully blossoming peach tree in the center of a vibrant, square garden. The rising sun slowly poured into the garden's interior like honey-yellow liquid. The peach tree's blossoms were a stunning, deep shade of magenta that picturesquely contrasted against the gray stonework, polished wooden decorations, training racks, and surrounding walls.

The young boy only wore a pair of loose earth-tone cotton pants. And his shoulder-length, straight black hair was tied back into a ponytail with a simple black silk ribbon. Sweat trailed down the sides of his face and upper body. He’d been holding the stance for over three hours.

The slightest tremor shook his knees.

He suddenly released a heavy breath with closed eyes and carefully rose out of the stance. His aching knee joints popped while his thigh muscles and tendons heavily burned. He stretched to his full height, squaring his shoulders while placing the backs of his heels together and resting the sides of his hands on either side of his waistline, palms facing the sky.

Inhale. He focused on the pain. Hold. Felt the pain. Exhale. He examined it as though it weren't his own. He silently spoke to it, made it understand that its presence was tolerated- allowed. It would never control him. It would never cloud his judgment. It was an unfortunate consequence, nothing more. Nothing less.

His breathing turned slower, rhythmic. He was close. He could feel it!

In for five... hold for three... feel your heartbeat, sense your pulse, embrace the sense of expansion within you- connect with your alternate senses... out for two...hold for two... out for three. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat...

Passive Standing Martial Meditation was only a single breath away... one more cycle...

In for five... hold for three... expand the senses-

"Your water, Young Master." A soft, masculine voice announced.

The young boy's right eye twitched.

…Expand the senses...

He pointedly refused to acknowledge the servant as he was very clearly attempting to meditate. And this was the closest he had ever come to comprehending Passive Standing Martial Meditation. He needed to focus, and a brief moment of profound enlightenment would be-

"Young Master, is everything to your satisfaction?"

The enlightenment slipped through his fingers.

That barely perceptible sensation of nearly connecting hundreds of thoughts and ideas.

That feeling of understanding how close you were to comprehending something plaguing your mind for far too long.

That nefarious knowledge that he could not even consider himself having been robbed since what he desired had never truly been in his possession.

The understanding that despite Passive Standing Martial Meditation's expansion of his other senses, he had still somehow wholly missed a servant entering the gardens.

He was still too weak-willed.

Too incompetent.

Useless.

He needed to be better.

He needed to be more.

It was no one's fault but his own.

The young boy slowly exhaled as he opened his eyes. Golden-ringed, hazel irises took in their surroundings. Did everything seem more... colorful? Vibrant? There?

Interesting... He couldn’t adequately describe what he saw; perhaps the technique he practiced had additional effects not covered in the manual.

However, it was unlikely that the technique's writer would have missed something considering his supposed cultivation stage. But he noted this odd change in his vision and would take the time to discuss it with his father this morning if possible.

Only, he knew it was an instinctive reaction: to seek out those he perceived as wise and strong. He had learned early on that despite his efforts to impress his father, only the results mattered. And so his father only spoke with his eldest brother and younger twin sisters.

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So the young boy knew he would have to seek advice from an older brother. And hopefully, the older brother was in a good mood and did not feel the need to practice their techniques…

But should Fate and Karma have truly conspired against him this fine day, he would cross paths with his younger twin sisters. The thought alone almost caused the roots of his healthy hair to turn white.

"Many thanks, Nucai Enlai." The young boy neutrally said, attempting to keep the heated undertones of self-recrimination and frustration out of his voice.

"Of course, Young Master. I have also brought a fresh towel."

"Leave it beside the water. You are excused; return to your duties."

"As you wish, Young Master." Nucai Enlai bowed deeply, almost parallel to the garden's stonework pathways, then smoothly exited the garden beneath a stone archway bordered with emerald hedges and wreathed with Golden Stemmed Blood Creeper.

The young boy had long ago identified this and all the plants in the garden and within the family palace. He hadn’t had a choice. The thought caused his brow to furrow slightly as he briefly examined the plant.

Although technically an alchemical component, the Golden Stemmed Blood Creeper’s hundreds of golden-bronze-colored stems and long, narrow, waxy leaves colored pink with pale red lines and irregular edges, were more valuable to look upon and present as an ostentatious decoration to impress guests rather than for its use as a common pill making component. It was one of the more benign species his family grew.

The young boy carefully listened for the servant's receding footsteps. Once satisfied that he was alone, he walked over to the items brought over by the Nucai: a water container sitting atop a folded, black towel. Then, he started doing minor stretches, imperceptibly glancing around the gardens and dormitory windows overlooking the gardens and checking the other three archways for any silently lingering servants.

He was alone... probably.

He crouched down and grabbed the corner of the towel, carefully dragging it out from under the polished bamboo water container until it was free. He then opened the square towel and draped it over his right hand, carefully picking up the water container. The servant who'd brought the container never touched it- it had sat perfectly secure in the center of the folded towel.

He gingerly weighed it in his hand and sloshed its contents.

'Even weight. Good.' His fingers did not tingle or burn through the thin towel- no contact poison coating its surface this time.

He then used the knuckle of his left index finger to knock on the container.

'Correct sound. Good.' The walls of the container were not hollow. A slight furrow creased his brow as a thought crossed his mind.

'Could it be porous? A slow-release compound?' He sighed on the inside. If that were the case, he needed to dump the contents and dissect the container in his room tonight to see what new method they'd come up with this time. He would do that no matter what. It was better to be safe than sorry, and he didn't want to miss anything because he was growing complacent or allowing himself to fall into a pattern.

He needed to be better.

More proactive.

Smarter.

He removed the top of the water container, held it away from his face with his right hand, and wafted the air over the container to his nose with his left hand.

'Too normal... almost nothing...' His eyes narrowed. Not even the smell of the beautiful flowers and foliage scattered around the garden reached his nose.

'So... they coated the container with Extract of Numbing Lily to mask the smell of the liquid.'

So that explained why his fingers didn’t burn or tingle when holding the container: the nerve toxin had instantly taken its toll.

The young boy took a moment to appreciate the effort his siblings and extended family went through to see him fail. This attempt was expensive! A nearly perfect tincture of Numbing Lily was something only the Mountain Meditation Palace's Head Alchemist could produce or store. The young boy was not surprised the head alchemist was also a part of this- he had always assumed this, to begin with, all those years ago.

The young boy capped the container with its bamboo lid and held it away from him. He took deep breaths. Nothing. His sense of smell was gone entirely, at least for now. He earnestly hoped it was temporary. And if it wasn't... well, he had heard stories of cultivators' bodies being perfectly reborn upon surviving Heavenly Tribulation. He would make due until then if his 'admirers' had stooped to semi-lethal concoctions.

He walked to the nearest archway and tore free a single leaf of Golden Stemmed Blood Creeper. It was a beautiful leaf- he took a moment to appreciate it. But, who knows, perhaps tomorrow's evening meal would rob him of his sight?

Then he allowed the leaf to fall to the stone pathway slowly. Removing the water container's lid again, he crouched over the leaf and gently tipped it, allowing some sparkling, crystal-clear liquid to splash over the leaf and walkway. The leaf innocently sat there, glistening.

The young boy capped the water container without looking at the leaf.

His hard eyes carried a matureness belying the youthfulness of his expressionless face.

However, he felt the usually simmering embers of cold hatred briefly flare within his chest. It was unprecedented!

His siblings had actually spent the time, resources, and Spirit Stones to acquire Weak Spiritual Water. But only to then pollute it with a high-quality poison, effectively negating its ability to purify internal energy. They then shove it into his hands to see if he is desperate enough to drink it for the remaining minor benefits.

It was the equivalent of pissing on a chunk of bread and giving it to a starving man, who then had to make a choice in front of his tormentors.

Was dignity enough to fill a belly?

Crackle...

The young boy watched as the leaf started wilting and withering, curling in on itself. Its previously long, narrow structure and pale pink color reduced to a colorless shadow of itself. His teeth clenched together, his jaw visibly flexing. Without another word, he uncapped the water container and dumped it across the stone walkway- he didn't want this juvenile attempt on his life to damage the garden. It was one of the few places he could always retreat to practice and clear his mind.

Re-capping the container and wrapping it in the towel, the young boy looked around before leaving through the archway, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable disaster that was breakfast time with the family.

The small puddle of crystalline liquid sparkled beneath the sunrise as the young boy's figure turned the corner and disappeared.

A pair of frowning green eyes watched from the corner of a window overlooking the garden.