Jon woke before dawn, his body attuned to the mountain's rhythm. He slipped out of his cot, careful not to wake Big Dawg curled at his feet. The Shiba Inu's ear twitched, but he remained asleep.

Five days had passed since he first circulated his qi. He flexed his injured arm, feeling the bone knit beneath the skin. Not fully healed, but close.

He padded outside, dew-damp grass between his toes. Jon inhaled deeply, tasting pine and damp earth.

He settled cross-legged on a flat rock, closing his eyes. Qi flowed through him, a gentle current growing stronger with each breath. What once felt like wading through mud now flowed like a clear stream.

The sun crested the horizon as Jon finished his morning meditation. He stretched, marveling at the absence of pain in his arm. Five days ago, it had been a mangled mess. Now, only a faint scar remained.

Big Dawg bounded out of the hut, tail wagging. Jon grinned, grabbing a stick. "Ready, boy?" He hurled it into the trees. Big Dawg took off, returning moments later with his prize.

After their game, Jon grabbed two buckets and headed down the mountain path. The stream gurgled, icy water numbing his hands as he filled the containers. He paused, letting the sound wash over him. Peace. That's what he'd found here lately.

His days fell into a rhythm. Mornings spent in meditation, Jon feeling his qi grow stronger with each session. Afternoons, he hauled water from the stream, Big Dawg trotting beside him. The buckets grew lighter as his strength did the same.

Evenings brought simple meals shared with Han. Rice, vegetables from the small garden, occasionally fish Jon caught from the stream. They ate in comfortable silence, broken by Han's occasional cryptic comments about Jon's future training.

As night fell, Jon would sit outside, gazing at the stars and listening to music with his headphone. Big Dawg curled at his feet, Tianma occasional brays drifting from the a part of the mountain.

It was stable, and the much more invigorating than Jon had thought.

Back at the hut, Han was already stoking the fire. "Good morning, old man," Jon called.

Han grunted, a hint of a smile on his weathered face. "Your arm. How does it feel?"

Jon rotated it, marveling at the ease of movement. "Almost like new."

They shared a simple breakfast of rice porridge and wild berries. Made by Han. The old man had, to Jon's surprise, quite a lot of talents for cooking, and all sorts of spices. It was an art in itself, he would often say.

"Today," Han said, setting down his bowl, "we begin a more advanced training."

Jon leaned forward, eager. "What's first?"

Han's eyes twinkled. "You'll see."

*****

Han led the way through the winding mountain path, his steps measured and unhurried. Jon trailed behind, a delicate tea set cradled in his arms. Big Dawg bounded ahead, sniffing at interesting scents, while Tianma's steady hoofbeats brought up the rear.

The sun shone through the trees in the afternoon. Shadows fell on the forest floor. Jon walked on crunchy leaves while birds sang above.

"Old man," he called out, a hint of impatience in his voice, "why don't we just run there? We'd save time."

Han paused, turning to face his disciple. "Sometimes rushing to a destination makes you lose the pleasure of the journey. Look around you. Use your new senses, boy. What do you feel?"

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he thought, another life lesson. Still, he couldn't deny the old man's point entirely. The forest did seem more alive lately, more vibrant. He could almost feel the pulse of life in the trees around them.

Han continued. "Besides, it wouldn't do to leave Tianma and Big Dag behind. I appreciate their company."

Jon glanced at Big Dawg, who was now chasing a butterfly, tail wagging furiously.

I should be training, he thought, adjusting the tea set in his arms. Every moment counts when it comes to fixing my lower dantian. The weight of his damaged cultivation base hung over him like a cloud, dampening even the mountain's tranquil beauty.

The sound of rushing water gradually filtered through the forest, growing louder with each step. Jon's ears perked up, and a sudden realization hit him.

He's not gonna make me meditate under a waterfall, is he?

"I want you to start meditating under the waterfall you hear." Han said without turning. As if reading his thoughts.

Jon stumbled, nearly dropping the tea set. "You've got to be kidding me."

Han chuckled. "Something to say?"

Gathering his courage, Jon asked, "Why? Isn't regular meditation enough?"

Han's face grew serious. "You've grown accustomed to flowing your qi without distraction. But a cultivator's life is rarely peaceful. You must learn to circulate qi passively, even in the heat of battle."

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He paused, letting his words sink in. "Imagine needing to summon fire in combat. You can't exactly sit down and meditate while an enemy swings for your head, can you?"

Jon opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. The old man had a point. As usual.

He sighed, realizing how foolish it would be to refuse Han's instruction. The guy was thousands of years old, after all. He knew what he was doing.

He wouldn't put me in actual danger... right?

As they approached the clearing, the roar of the waterfall filled Jon's ears. He eyed the cascading water warily, clutching the tea set like a shield.

"Well," Jon said, forcing a grin, "at least I'll stay cool in this heat."

Mist filled the air, droplets clinging to his skin and clothes.

"What do I need to do?" Jon asked, eyeing the torrential water warily.

Han gestured for the tea set. "First, hand that over."

Jon gratefully relinquished his burden. Han settled onto a large, flat rock, arranging the porcelain pieces with practiced ease. From a pouch at his waist, he produced small bags of tea leaves, honey, and what looked like rice cakes.

He snapped his fingers, and a spark leapt to life, igniting a small pile of tinder he'd gathered. The fire caught quickly, flames licking at the dry wood.

As Han began preparing the tea, he spoke. "Your task is to regulate your body temperature using qi. The waterfall is cold – frigid, even – but your core must remain stable."

Jon nodded, attention split between Han's words and his methodical tea preparation. The old man placed a kettle filled with stream water over the fire.

"Visualize your dantian as a furnace," Han continued, measuring tea leaves into a small clay pot. "You must learn to stoke it, to draw heat from it and circulate it through your meridians."

Han paused, waiting for the water to heat. "Like blood flowing through veins, your qi must reach every extremity. But here's the crucial part – you must modulate it. Too much heat, and you'll exhaust yourself. Too little, and the cold will overwhelm you."

The water began to boil. Han removed it from the fire and poured a small amount of water over the tea leaves, then discarded it immediately. "This first pour awakens the leaves," he explained. "Now, we brew."

As he refilled the pot with hot water, Han continued his instruction. "The shock of cold water will challenge your focus. You must maintain a steady core temperature while allowing your extremities to adapt. It's a constant dance of expansion and contraction."

Jon furrowed his brow, trying to internalize the instructions. "And I do this... while under the waterfall?"

Han nodded, a glimmer of amusement in his ancient eyes. "Precisely. Master this, and maintaining your qi in battle will become second nature."

He set the brewing tea aside and reached for the honey and cakes. "This technique forms the foundation for more advanced abilities. Temperature control leads to elemental manipulation. Fire, ice – they begin here."

"One last thing," Han said, arranging the snacks on a small plate. "Start slowly. Don't try to resist the cold entirely at first. Let it in, then gradually push it out. Like the brewing of this tea, it's a process that cannot be rushed."

As Jon began to remove his upper garments, a sudden realization struck him. He paused, shirt half-off, and turned to Han with a sheepish expression.

"Uh, old man? I just remembered... I've never actually learned how to transform my qi. I can circulate it now, but transforming it? That's new to me."

Han raised an eyebrow, his hands pausing in their preparation of the tea. "Ah, I see. An oversight on my part." He set down the teapot and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, there are thousands of methods used by thousands of sects for elemental qi transformation. Each with its own complexities and nuances."

Jon nodded, expecting a long, complicated explanation.

"My method, however, is quite simple. Imagine your qi as water. To heat it, compress it. To cool it, let it expand."

Jon blinked, certain he had misheard. "That's... it?"

Han chuckled at Jon's bewildered expression. "You look lost, boy. Don't worry, I had the same reaction when I discovered this a few hundred years ago. It's a shortcut, you see, but one based on fundamental principles of the universe."

Seeing Jon's continued confusion, Han elaborated. "Think of it this way: when you compress your qi, you're forcing the same amount of energy into a smaller space. This increases its temperature. When you allow it to expand, that same energy spreads out, cooling in the process."

Thermodynamics... Jon's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "That sounds more like science than cultivation."

Han's laughter echoed across the clearing. "And who says they're mutually exclusive? The universe operates on consistent laws, whether we're talking about mundane matter or mystical qi."

He gestured towards the waterfall. "When you step under that torrent, compress your qi in your core. Let it heat up. Then, gradually allow it to expand outwards, carrying that heat to your extremities. As it cools, draw it back in and compress it once more. It's a cycle, much like the circulation you've already mastered."

As Jon nodded and turned back towards the waterfall, Han added, "Remember, start small. Don't try to heat all your qi at once. Begin with a small portion, and gradually increase as you grow accustomed to the process."

Jon took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and plunged into the icy torrent.

The world exploded into icy chaos.

The cold hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs. His muscles seized, every nerve screaming in protest. The roar of water filled his ears, disorienting him. Jon gasped, struggling to breathe as the torrent pounded against his chest and face.

His heart raced, thundering in his chest as if trying to escape. Thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. Focus? Impossible. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to escape this watery hell.

Through the curtain of water, Jon glimpsed Han. The old man sat serenely, sipping tea, while Big Dawg lounged at his feet, happily gnawing on a strip of dried meat. Han caught his eye and made a casual "carry on" gesture.

Jon sighed, or tried to – the attempt ended in a spluttering cough as water rushed into his mouth. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to concentrate.

Suddenly, Han's voice cut through the chaos, as clear as if the old man were whispering directly into his ear:

"Breathe, boy. Remember your training. Find your center."

Jon struggled to obey, forcing himself to take slow, measured breaths despite the relentless assault of the water. Gradually, his racing heart began to slow.

"Good," Han's voice continued. "Now, feel your qi. Gather it in your core."

Jon reached for that familiar warmth within, that spark of energy he'd come to know. It felt dim, overwhelmed by the cold.

"Fold it, Jon. Layer upon layer. Concentrate its essence."

Gritting his teeth, Jon willed his qi to compress. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he felt a change. A tiny spark of heat bloomed in his center.

"Yes, that's it. Now, carefully unfold it. Let it spread."

Jon hesitated, reluctant to let go of that precious warmth. But he obeyed, allowing his qi to expand outward. To his amazement, he felt the heat travel through his body, pushing back against the numbing cold.

For a moment, a perfect balance was struck. The icy water still pounded against him, but inside, a warm current flowed through his meridians, keeping the cold at bay.

Then, just as quickly, the warmth faded. The cold rushed back in, somehow feeling even more bitter than before.

"Again," Han's voice commanded. "Fold and unfold. Find the rhythm."

Jon obeyed, compressing his qi once more. This time, the heat came faster, stronger. He let it spread, reveling in the warmth before it dissipated.

Fold. Unfold. Compress. Expand. With each cycle, the process became smoother, more natural. The cold was still there, but it no longer overwhelmed him. Jon felt a surge of exhilaration. He was doing it!

And then, something shifted.