Shadowwwing
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24. A Glutton for Punishment
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 06:05:26 +0000 UTCJiang sat cross-legged in the narrow strip of shadow behind the gardens, back to the outer wall. The stone beneath him had long since warmed in the sun, but the chill in the air hadn’t gone with it. He’d found this spot yesterday, during a task to help the servants check and repair any damage to the outer wall.
Surprisingly, it had made for a rather pleasant few hours. There wasn’t any significant damage to the wall – even Jiang knew that no Sect would let something like that happen without fixing it immediately – so the task consisted of plastering over a few cracks and painting one particularly faded section. Besides that, it had amounted to a nice walk around the outskirts of the Sect.
A couple of the servants had even relaxed enough to chat in his presence, though unfortunately, none were bold enough to talk directly to him. Still, he didn’t mind so much – it’s not like he was much of a conversationalist anyway. Besides, the atmosphere amongst his roommates was getting rather tense at the moment, so he was much happier to spend time out and about.
A faint buzz of shadow-aspected Qi drifted at the edges of his senses, drawn in by his efforts. He pulled with his mental grasp, gathering it in his dantian to mix with the Qi already there. The process was feeling increasingly natural, like it was already imprinted in his muscle memory.
It wasn’t enough for a breakthrough, not yet. But the pathways in his body weren’t just flickers anymore. The inner channels no longer shuddered under the pressure when he circulated energy. When he pushed a strand of Qi down his spine, it followed the path cleanly.
The only step left before he could break through to the next stage was to clear out the meridian located at the base of his spine. Interestingly enough, the meridian itself was a single point like he’d assumed. Instead, it formed a pathway of its own, starting at the base of his spine and following the curve upwards to just below his neck.
According to Elder Lu, this meridian formed something of a nexus, from which his Qi pathways branched off to reach the other meridians scattered around his body. He could… not quite feel them, as such, but he was dimly aware of them. They felt vaguely like knots of tension in his body, and he could feel how the Qi naturally present in his body seemed to almost congeal around those locations.
He wondered how it would feel when they were cleared. Within a day or two, he would find out.
Another hour passed. Maybe more. When he finally let go, the energy receded like tidewater, and he opened his eyes to find the raven waiting.
It stood near the edge of the path, no more than five paces away. Watching. Always watching. Jiang narrowed his eyes.
“You’re late,” he said quietly.
The bird, perhaps unsurprisingly, didn’t respond. It never did. And yet, he could tell it wasn’t a typical bird. Not only did it find him every time he settled down to cultivate, but he couldn’t sense it.
Normal animals were a dim glow to his Qi senses – they didn’t draw it in or use it in any way, but the Qi passively circulating through their bodies formed an unmistakable outline of sorts.
If he ever needed to go back to hunting again, at least it would be easy to track animals now.
This raven, however, was a blank spot to his Qi senses. Or rather, it wasn’t anything to his Qi senses – no matter how much he strained, it felt exactly like the rest of the empty space around it. Not only that, he’d never once noticed the raven arriving, not even with his physical senses.
While it was challenging to pay attention to the world around him while cultivating, it wasn’t impossible, and he’d made a point of trying several times over the past couple of days. He never heard anything, he never felt any gusts of wind, and even the time he’d tried to keep his eyes open he hadn’t seen anything.
And yet, every time he finished cultivating, the raven was there. Waiting. Watching.
He reached down, picked up a pebble, and flicked it lightly toward the bird. It didn’t flinch. The pebble bounced off the stone just beside its claw and skittered away into the brush.
“One of these days, I’m going to figure out what you are,” Jiang informed the bird. It shifted its wings a little but didn’t react further. “Or maybe I’ll tell Elder Lu about you; let him sort you out.”
Again, the bird didn’t react. In truth, Jiang wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t informed the Elder about his repeat visitor. Considering what he had used to ignite his dantian, the raven was almost certainly connected in some way to the spirit beast that shed the feather, which meant it could be dangerous, but…
Well, Jiang strongly suspected that if the spirit beast had wanted to harm him, it could have easily done so while he was igniting his dantian. The fact that it hadn’t didn’t necessarily mean it was trustworthy, but it was at least enough of an indication that Jiang wasn’t too worried about his feathery watcher.
He pushed the thought from his mind and stood, rolling his shoulder to ease the stiffness before turning and walking back towards the dormitories.
By the time he reached the sleeping quarters, the sun had dipped behind the upper peaks. He ducked through the door and into the dim space beyond.
Lian sat near the window again, arms crossed, jaw tight. Wei and Shen occupied opposite ends of the table, neither speaking. The tension hung like smoke—thin, dry, and clinging to everything.
Jiang stepped past them without comment, brushing the curtain aside and ducking into his room. No one acknowledged him.
They weren’t arguing, not openly. But they weren’t taking tasks together anymore either. The shared meals had stopped. The shared conversations had dried up. It wasn’t that he cared, considering that he hadn’t been a part of it to begin with, but that didn’t mean that the atmosphere was pleasant to hang around in.
Oh, well. With any luck, it wouldn’t be a problem once he passed the exams.
— — —
Jiang sat on the stone bench just inside the halls of healing, pressing a damp cloth to the side of his face. The fabric smelled faintly of antiseptic herbs and whatever tea the apprentices drank when no one was watching. It didn’t help much.
His lip was split again. Same side as last time. He’d bitten through it this time, though, which was a nice touch. Whoever decided duels were supposed to be part of a cultivator’s training clearly hadn’t been the one getting punched.
Footsteps approached. He didn’t look up.
“I can’t help but notice you’re bleeding on my floor again,” Yialin said.
“Thought I’d change things up from just bleeding on your sheets,” Jiang replied, voice slightly muffled.
The healer snorted and stepped closer, dragging a stool behind her with one hand. “How novel.” She didn’t bother asking what happened. She’d probably already heard. Word got around fast when someone from the outer dorms issued a challenge—faster still when it was Jiang getting put through the floor again.
She pulled his hand away from his face and examined the damage. “That’s a nice one. Clean tear. Bet it’ll scar if we leave it alone.”
Jiang shrugged. “Adds character.”
She snorted, moving over to a cupboard for a moment before returning with a shallow bowl of paste and a wooden spatula. Jiang leaned back without being told. The paste stung as she dabbed it on, but only for a second.
“You’re lucky he didn’t aim higher,” she said. “Another inch and he’d have broken your nose.”
Jiang grunted. “He tried. I moved.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Before or after he hit you?”
“Technically during.”
“Impressive. I can see all of your practice is paying off,” she snarked at him.
He laughed, then winced as the motion sent pain shooting through his face. Honestly, chatting with this healer was probably the most refreshing conversation he’d had in weeks. She wasn’t nearly as uptight as the rest of the cultivators but was also clearly too confident to be a servant. Jiang hadn’t bothered asking her for any personal details beyond her name.
“Got a solid punch in, though,” he said casually, trying to hide how proud he was of the fact. “Think I cracked a rib.”
“Yours or his?”
Jiang grinned again. Carefully. “Not mine.”
The healer made a noncommittal sound. “You’re improving.”
He didn’t answer. Improvement didn’t mean winning. He’d lost every duel so far, but he didn’t particularly care. The other aspirants saw him as an easy mark—someone to knock around for clout. A convenient target who wouldn’t complain and wouldn’t escalate. He was okay with that. Let them practice. He was using them the same way.
“Any idea what the running tally is now?” he asked casually.
The healer scoffed. “Six, I think. Maybe seven. Hard to say. You limped in once without checking in, so that one didn’t make the official count.”
“Should I get a punch card?” Jiang asked. “Every ten beatings gets me a free dumpling?”
“You’d be better off asking the kitchen staff,” she said. “I don’t bribe patients to show up.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe you should stop using your face to block fists.”
“That’s the current plan, actually.”
“Mm.”
She leaned back and set the bowl aside. The paste had already begun to cool, the healing Qi threaded through it doing its work. The ache in his jaw was fading.
The healer crossed her arms and studied him. “You don’t seem bothered.”
Jiang tilted his head. “Should I be?”
“Most who lose a duel storm in here angry,” she said. “Bruised ego. Hurt pride. You look like you’re waiting for laundry duty.”
“It’s just another task,” he said. “Get challenged. Show up. Try not to get knocked out.”
She grunted. “Not the typical attitude of a cultivator,” she pointed out neutrally.
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, genuinely curious about her thoughts.
“Well, it certainly won’t make you any friends.”
“Ah, yes, because otherwise, people would just be lining up around the block to be friends with me,” Jiang retorted, gesturing vaguely at his bruised and bloody face. “Clearly, it’s already working.”
Yiaolin hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t seem worried about passing the exams,” she said, changing the subject without warning. “Despite not having even close to enough points to qualify.”
Jiang raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know how many points I have?” he asked before continuing without waiting for her to answer. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Breaking through should give me the points I need.”
“And breaking through on command is famously easy,” Yiaolin shot back, waving a hand. “None of my business, I suppose. Time will tell if your words have any merit. Anyway, you’re good to go. Try not to bleed in the hallway.”
“No promises,” Jiang said, rising slowly. He rolled his neck, testing the motion. Still sore, but manageable.
As he made his way toward the door, the healer called after him. “Next time, try ducking.”
Jiang paused, then turned slightly. “That’s the goal.”
“And maybe lead with your elbow,” she added. “You’ve got decent reach. Use it.”
He blinked. “Thanks.”
She waved him off without turning, already back to mixing something else.
Jiang stepped out into the corridor, the evening air cool against his skin. Another duel down. Another lesson learned. He didn’t know if any of it would matter in the long run, but at least he was getting faster. Smarter. Harder to hit.
And that would have to be enough.
