Jon stared at the creature's pulverized remains, his breath ragged and heart still pounding. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

Beside him, Li Xiulan sobbed quietly, her small frame shaking.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, his voice hoarse.

The girl nodded, wiping her eyes. "Y-yes. But your arm..." Fresh tears welled up. "I'm so sorry."

Jon glanced at his broken limb, pain throbbing with each heartbeat.

"Tis' but a scratch," he said, attempting a weak smile. "We're alive. That's what matters."

Suddenly, shouts echoed across the mountain. Jon tensed, ready for more danger, but then recognized Li Xiulan's name among the cries.

"Father!" the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up.

Jon's eyes narrowed as he saw a group of people running towards them, led by a man he assumed was Li Xin. Where were they during the fight? Why show up only now, when the danger had passed?

He winced as Li Xiulan helped him to his feet.

The girl then sprinted towards the approaching crowd, her father breaking into a run to meet her.

Li Xin swept his daughter into a fierce embrace, his body shaking with sobs. "Xiulan! My child, my precious child," he cried, cradling her head.

The villagers gathered around, their faces full of awe and horror as they took in the scene of destruction and the mangled remains of the beast.

Jon's eyes locked onto Liang Zhi among the crowd.

The young man's ever-present smile made Jon's blood boil. How could he be grinning after all this?

Jon's fist clenched, the urge to wipe that smirk off Liang Zhi's face almost overwhelming.

Li Xin approached him, eyes brimming with tears.

He clasped Jon's good hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously. "Brother Jon! You saved my daughter! How can I ever repay you? My family's savior! Our village's hero!" He continued showering Jon with praise, his gratitude so effusive it bordered on comical.

The other villagers crowded around, brandishing their makeshift weapons – hoes, sickles, and pitchforks. They added their thanks, voices overlapping in a chorus of appreciation.

"It was nothing," Jon said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the attention. "Anyone would have done the same." He managed a small smile.

As the villagers' excitement began to subside, one man stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "But what about this boulder? And all these destroyed trees? Did you do this too?" he asked Jon, gesturing at the devastation around them.

Jon opened his mouth to deny it, but before he could speak, Liang Zhi pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Jon tried to catch the young man, silently urging him not to complicate things further.

But Liang Zhi was already speaking, his voice carrying clearly over the murmurs of the crowd. "It was the corrupted beast that caused all this chaos!" he proclaimed. "Brother Jon ran all the way here to save Li Xiulan. They were saved at the last moment by a passing cultivator who crushed the monster with that boulder."

Jon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. It wasn't entirely false, but the story neatly sidestepped several key details. He glanced at Liang Zhi, suspicion on his face.

A voice from the back of the crowd called out, "How does a blind man know what happened?"

Liang Zhi's smile never faltered. He gestured at two people near him. "My sister and brother Yulian were with me. We observed the fight from a safe distance."

Another villager turned to Jon and Li Xiulan. "Is that true? Is that what happened?"

Jon hesitated, looking at Li Xiulan. Their eyes met for a long moment, an unspoken conversation passing between them.

Finally, Li Xiulan nodded, her voice small but clear. "Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Li Xin stepped forward again, his gratitude still evident in his voice. "Please, brother Jon, come down to the village with us. We must celebrate your bravery and tend to your wounds properly."

Jon shook his head, offering a tired smile. "Thank you, but I'm exhausted. I need to rest and recover. Perhaps another time."

After many back and forth, the villagers began to disperse, their excited chatter fading as they made their way back down the mountain. Jon turned to face those who remained.

Yulian approached first. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I've been better," Jon admitted, gesturing to his broken arm. "But I'll heal. Thank you for your concern, Yulian."

She nodded, seeming to want to say more but holding back.

Liang Zhi sauntered up next, his enigmatic smile still in place. Jon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Quick thinking back there," he said, voice low. "But I have to wonder why you're so eager to help."

Liang Zhi's smile widened. "Perhaps I simply enjoy a good story. Or perhaps there's more at play than you realize."

Before Jon could press further, Li Xiulan approached. She looked up at him, her eyes still red from crying but filled with gratitude. "Thank you," she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jon smiled. "Don't sweat it," he told her. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

She nodded, then surprised him with a quick hug before running back to her father.

As the last of the villagers departed, Jon trudged up the path to Han's house, his body aching with every step. As he approached, he saw Han sitting outside, casually patting Big Dawg's back.

The old man spoke first, his voice grave.

"Corruption. This is a bad sign."

Jon's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Before Han could answer, Jon's frustration bubbled over. "And by the way, don't you have some kind of super cultivator hearing? What took you so long to help? I nearly died down there!"

Han remained calm, his weathered face impassive. "You have the same hearing, boy. Like me, you don't keep it active all the time. It would be overwhelming. Even at my level, constant alertness has its drawbacks." His eyes softened. "I'm sorry about your arm."

Jon's anger deflated, replaced by exhaustion. Han gestured for him to come closer. "Let me examine it."

Stolen novel; please report.

With a sigh, he sat beside Han. Big Dawg approached, sniffing at his injuries with concern.

Han gently took Jon's arm, studying it for a moment. "Hmm, it's broken," he declared solemnly.

Jon's face twisted into an exaggerated look of shock. "You don't say? And here I thought it was just a mild sprain."

A hint of a smile touched Han's lips as he began immobilizing Jon's arm with makeshift wooden splints. Then, he placed his hands on either side of the break.

A warm, bluish light emanated from his palms, small arcs of electricity dancing across his fingers.

Jon gasped as an odd sensation spread through his arm. It was like a tingling warmth, simultaneously soothing and invigorating. "Is that... qi?" he asked, recognizing the energy but marveling at its unfamiliar form.

Han nodded. "This is a healing art. It won't mend the bone immediately, but it will accelerate the process. You should be healed in a few days." He paused, adding, "As a cultivator, injuries like these are nothing to worry about. A few broken bones are trivial for our kind."

Jon blinked, processing Han's words. "Trivial? I just had my arm snapped like a twig by a monster, and you're telling me it's no big deal?"

The old man chuckled softly. "In time, you'll understand. Our bodies are capable of incredible things."

Jon fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. The gentle hum of Han's healing qi filled the air, punctuated by the occasional crackle of electricity. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Gramps, you said 'corruption.' You were talking about that beast down there, right?"

Han grunted an affirmative, his focus still on Jon's arm.

Jon pressed on, curiosity overriding his fatigue. "What did you mean by 'it's a bad sign'?"

Han's hands stilled for a moment, and he let out a long, weary sigh.

"What you encountered is known as qi deviation. It affects both humans and spirit beasts, but in very different ways."

Jon leaned in, intrigued.

Han continued, his hands resuming their work on Jon's arm.

"For humans, qi deviation is often fatal. Those who survive are left crippled, their cultivation destroyed." Han's eyes grew distant. "But spirit beasts... they're different."

A cool breeze rustled through the trees. Han's voice lowered, taking on an almost reverent tone.

"Spirit beasts never force their cultivation. They grow in harmony with their natural dispositions. So when one falls to qi deviation..." He paused, his gaze meeting Jon's. "It's said to be a harbinger of great tragedy for the land."

Jon scoffed, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Come on, Gramps. That sounds like superstition. Have you ever actually seen this happen?"

Han's eyes grew distant again, his hands stilling on Jon's arm. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft whine of Big Dawg, who sensed the tension in the air.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hope you're right, boy. For everyone's sake."

The old man's evasion didn't go unnoticed, but Jon decided not to push further. Instead, he watched as Han resumed his healing, the warm qi seeping into his broken bones.

*****

As night settled over the mountain, an unusual quiet blanketed the village below. The earlier chaos had given way to an eerie calm, as if the entire community was collectively holding its breath.

Despite Jon's broken arm and the day's harrowing events, Han insisted on their nightly training session.

So here Jon sat, cross-legged on the worn wooden floor, facing the old man who seemed utterly unperturbed by the day's excitement.

"Empty your mind," Han intoned for what felt like the millionth time. "Let go of all thoughts and simply be."

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Empty his mind? After the day he'd had? He might as well try to empty the ocean with a teaspoon.

His thoughts raced like caffeinated squirrels. The corrupted beast's roar echoed in his memory. Liang Zhi's enigmatic smile flashed before his eyes. Questions about qi deviation and Han's cryptic warnings swirled in his head.

Empty your mind, Jon thought. Sure, I'll just hit the off switch on my brain. No problem.

He could practically feel his synapses firing, each one a rebellion against Han's instructions. It was like being told not to think of a pink elephant – suddenly, all he could imagine was a whole circus of pastel pachyderms.

Still, Jon kept his exasperation to himself. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the sensation of air filling his lungs. Maybe if he could just concentrate on his breathing...

"Your qi is as turbulent as a storm-tossed sea," Han remarked dryly. "I thought I told you to calm your mind, not throw it a party."

Jon almost cracked open one eye. "I'm trying," he grumbled. "But it turns out my brain doesn't come with an off switch."

"Perhaps," Han said, "you're trying too hard. Don't force it. Let the thoughts come and go, like clouds across the sky."

Jon sighed. Clouds across the sky, huh? He could work with that. Maybe if he imagined each thought as a cloud, drifting away...

Han's voice cut through Jon's mental turbulence. "The secret is in the breathing," he said, his tone measured and calm. "There are thousands of breathing techniques, each adapted to different people. You must find the one that suits you."

Something clicked in Jon's mind. This was it - the perfect opportunity to put his theory into practice. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.

Focusing inward, he visualized his body as a complex network of channels, like a living, breathing circuit board. In his mind's eye, he mapped out the meridians he'd studied, each one a potential conduit for qi.

He started with his breath, experimenting with different rhythms and depths. Slow, deep breaths seemed to generate a subtle warmth in his lower dantian. He focused on this sensation, imagining it as a glowing ember.

As he breathed, Jon paid close attention to his heartbeat. He noticed that when he synchronized his breath with his pulse, the warmth in his dantian intensified. It was like tuning an instrument, finding the resonant frequency that amplified the energy.

But moving the qi remained elusive. Jon imagined the energy as a current, seeking the path of least resistance. He visualized opening and closing different pathways, like adjusting the valves in a complex plumbing system.

At first, nothing happened.

He felt a flicker of frustration, but he pushed it aside, remembering that emotional states could affect qi flow. He calmed himself, returning to a state of curious observation.

Minutes seemed to pass as Jon experimented. He tried different breathing patterns - short and sharp, long and slow, alternating between deep and shallow. Each produced subtly different sensations in his body.

At one point, Jon felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips. Excited, he focused on it, trying to trace the feeling back to its source. But as soon as he concentrated too hard, it vanished, leaving him back at square one.

Undeterred, he pressed on.

Fluid dynamics.

Thinking about how energy moves through systems. He imagined his qi as a river, seeking the path of least resistance. Instead of trying to force it, he focused on removing blockages, visualizing each meridian opening wide.

Suddenly, Jon felt a shift. The warmth in his lower dantian began to move, ever so slightly. It was like watching a drop of food coloring disperse in water - slow, unpredictable, but undeniably in motion.

Excitement threatened to break his concentration, but Jon held steady. He observed the movement dispassionately.

The qi continued to move, trickling upward. Jon felt it reach his middle dantian, where it seemed to pool and swirl. The sensation was unique - warmth, pressure, and a strange, electric tingle.

But as the energy built in his middle dantian, Jon felt resistance.

It was as if he'd hit a wall, unable to guide the qi any further. He tried to push, but the more he forced it, the more it seemed to slip away.

Frustrated, he paused. He took a moment to reassess, thinking back to Han's words about finding the right technique for him.

Maybe forcing wasn't the answer.

Instead of pushing, Jon tried to coax the energy. He imagined opening a path, inviting the qi to explore rather than demanding it move. To his surprise, this seemed to work. The energy began to flow again, tentatively at first, then with more confidence.

As the qi reached his upper dantian, Jon felt a rush of sensation. His scalp tingled, and he had the peculiar feeling of his consciousness expanding. Colors seemed brighter behind his closed eyelids, and he could swear he felt the air moving around him with newfound sensitivity.

But with this increased awareness came a new challenge.

The influx of sensations threatened to overwhelm Jon, breaking his concentration. He struggled to maintain his focus, feeling like a novice juggler suddenly asked to keep a dozen balls in the air.

He took a deep breath, remembering to treat his mental state as a variable in the equation. He acknowledged the sensations without getting lost in them, maintaining a delicate balance between awareness and detachment.

As he held this state, Jon felt the qi begin to circulate. It was no longer just moving up, but flowing through his entire body in a complex dance. He could feel it in his limbs, his organs, even in places he didn't have names for.

The sensation was indescribable - like being filled with liquid light, or becoming aware of a dimension that had always been there but had gone unnoticed. Jon felt more alive than he ever had, every cell in his body singing with energy.

But as exhilarating as it was, he knew he was walking a tightrope. One misstep, one moment of lost concentration, and he sensed the delicate balance would shatter.

So he held steady, observing the flow of qi through his body. He noticed how it responded to his thoughts, his emotions, even the smallest shifts in his posture. It was like learning a new language - the language of energy and body.

As the minutes passed, Jon continued to explore this new state. Sometimes he lost the connection, the qi slipping away like water through his fingers. But each time, he found his way back, the path becoming a little clearer, a little more familiar.

By the time he circulated it for the fourth time successfully, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the pale morning light. He realized he had been in this state for much more than a few minutes.

Han sat before him, a smile on his face. "Well," the old man said, "it seems you've found your breath."