Blossoming Path

The days that followed were a whirlwind of training, though not in the way I’d anticipated. Elder Ming’s lessons were rigorous, his sharp eyes catching every flaw in my stances and every hesitation in my strikes. He corrected me tirelessly, his words precise, his movements deliberate. For the first time, I began to feel the edges of the Heavenly Flame Mantra take shape in my hands.

Not just a technique, but a principle, a rhythm.

Tianyi, however, was another story.

At first, she had tried to follow along with Elder Ming’s instructions. She mimicked the stances and movements with her usual grace, but it quickly became clear that something was off.

Elder Ming’s style, born from years of human cultivation and training, clashed with Tianyi’s very nature. Where I stumbled through footwork drills, Tianyi glided effortlessly, her steps so light they barely disturbed the ground beneath her. Her strikes, though precise, lacked the deliberate structure Elder Ming wanted.

“She’s… not learning,” I admitted one evening, my voice hesitant as I watched her move through another set of drills. Her movements were elegant, beautiful even, but there was something almost too instinctive about them. Like she wasn’t truly learning but simply doing.

Elder Ming nodded thoughtfully, his arms crossed as he observed. “She’s not like you, Kai. Her body, her mind, even her instincts... they’re shaped by her nature as a butterfly spirit beast. Her style of movement and combat is inherently optimized, honed not through training but through her very existence.”

“So… what do we do?” I asked, glancing at Tianyi. She stood off to the side, her expression as unreadable as ever, though I caught a faint tilt of her head as if she knew we were discussing her.

“We adapt,” Elder Ming said simply. “Tianyi’s strength doesn’t lie in following human methods. Teaching her in the same way as you would be a waste of her talents. Instead, we’ll make her your sparring partner.”

“She’s faster than you,” Elder Ming pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. “Stronger, too. And her instincts are sharp. By fighting her, you’ll learn to adapt, to overcome an opponent who is naturally superior in many ways. And for her, the challenge will force her to think creatively. She’ll learn by doing.”

And thus, leads me to today.

I narrowly dodged, Tianyi’s outstretched leg brushing past my shoulder as I twisted to evade her strike. The motion sent a sharp jolt through my ribs, a grim reminder of Wei Long’s attack. My balance wavered for a split second, just long enough for her to capitalize on my hesitation.

My hands came up instinctively, open palms glowing faintly red—the early manifestation of the Heavenly Flame Mantra. The technique was still far from complete in my hands. Where the flames should have seared with blistering intensity, my palms merely radiated a feeble warmth. Barely enough to stave off the cold. Compared to my established fighting style, it felt like I was a step behind, trying to incorporate offense into my usually defensive style.

Still, it was progress. And sometimes, things have to be worse before they can be better.

I thrust my palm forward in a counterstrike, aiming for her center. The broad surface of my hand was designed to deliver maximum impact, a key principle of the Heavenly Flame Mantra. But Tianyi was already gone, her movements impossibly quick. She twisted mid-air, her foot snapping out in a vicious kick that caught me square in the jaw.

The world spun as I was launched backward, skidding to a stop near the edge of the courtyard. Stars danced in my vision as I groaned, rubbing my jaw.

“Too slow,” Tianyi said simply, her tone calm, almost bored. With careful slits added to the back of her robe courtesy of Lan-Yin, she was able unfold her wings freely.

The butterfly-human hovered where she’d landed, her stance relaxed yet poised, as if ready to strike again at a moment’s notice.

Laughter erupted from the sidelines. I turned my head, still dazed, to see Wang Jun and Lan-Yin sitting cross-legged nearby, clearly enjoying the show.

“You’ll never land a hit at this rate!” Wang Jun called out, grinning. His arms were folded, the bruises from his last sparring match with Elder Ming still visible. “You need to keep her grounded, Kai. Try dragging her back down to our level.”

Lan-Yin snorted, adjusting the linen wraps around her wrists. “Good luck with that. I’ve seen feathers fall faster than her.”

I shot them both a glare, which only made them laugh harder. It wasn’t unusual to see them here these days. Since the incident with Wei Long, they’d thrown themselves into training with a fervor that rivaled my own. Elder Ming’s courtyard had become something of a hub, with Wang Jun hammering away at physical techniques while Lan-Yin honed her precision and footwork late into the night.

“I don’t see either of you jumping in to help!” I shot back, dragging myself to my feet.

“Someone has to keep morale up!” Wang Jun retorted, gesturing grandly to himself and Lan-Yin. “Think of us as your cheering section.”

“We’ll jump in when you’re done,” Lan-Yin said. “You’re not the only one who needs to be ready next time.”

Her words struck a chord, and I felt a flicker of determination reignite. I squared my stance, raising my glowing palms again.

Tianyi’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest tilt of her head, like she was curious about what I’d do next.

“Alright,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “Let’s try this again.”

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Tianyi didn’t wait. She blurred into motion, darting toward me like a shadow. But this time, I was ready. Or as ready as I could be. As she closed in, I focused not on her form but on her rhythm, the slight shifts in her movements that hinted at her next strike.

Her foot lashed out in a sweeping kick, aiming for my ribs, but this time, I was prepared. I pivoted on my back foot, twisting just enough to avoid the full force of her strike. My open palm shot out instinctively, catching her ankle in midair. The faint red glow of the Heavenly Flame Mantra shimmered against her pale skin, and though the heat wasn’t enough to burn, it was enough to make contact meaningful.

The moment I caught her, her momentum shifted. Tianyi, ever the opportunist, used the leverage of her caught leg to swing herself upward. Her other leg snapped around my shoulders, locking me into a straddle as her weight bore down.

I staggered slightly, trying to keep my balance, but she clung to me like a stubborn vine.

“It’s warm,” she said, her voice carrying a rare note of delight as she adjusted her position on my shoulders. Her arms wrapped around my head, pulling me into what felt more like a hug than a sparring maneuver. “I like it.”

The courtyard fell silent for a beat, the only sound my labored breathing as I tried to process what had just happened.

Then Wang Jun’s laughter shattered the quiet.

“Is that it? Is that the big finishing move?” he howled, clutching his sides. “Kai’s ultimate technique: the warm hug!”

Lan-Yin doubled over, laughing so hard she nearly fell off her seat. “I don’t think that’s how sparring works!”

I scowled, shifting awkwardly in the position. She was extremely light, but it made moving difficult with her blocking my vision. “This… still counts as a win, right?” I said, looking to Elder Ming for some form of validation.

The old man’s lips twitched, though he masked it quickly. “Technically, she stopped attacking,” he said, his tone deliberately neutral. “But I wouldn’t call it a victory.”

Tianyi, still perched on my shoulders, rested her chin on my head. “A win is a win,” she said, completely unbothered. "This disciple has learned well."

I sighed. Perhaps she'd been reading too many of Liang Feng's novels.

The garden was quiet under the soft glow of moonlight, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the occasional chirp of crickets. Tianyi stood just outside the greenhouse, her wings faintly twitching as her sharp eyes scanned the area. The faint hum of energy emanating from the plants within filled the air, a soothing counterpoint to the chill that crept into the night.

Windy coiled around her shoulders, his body a reassuring weight. His scales brushed against her neck as he shifted closer, his intent clear: warmth.

“Cold?” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Reaching up, she ran a hand over his smooth, shimmering form. He hissed softly in confirmation.

A sudden movement caught her attention. A bird was pecking at the glass of the greenhouse, its beak tapping insistently against the surface. Tianyi narrowed her eyes, irritation flickering to life. With a flick of her wrist, a sharp gust of wind spiraled out, scattering the creature. It squawked in alarm before taking off into the dark, its wings beating hurriedly.

“Stay away,” she muttered, her gaze lingering on the spot where it had been.

She sighed, pulling her thoughts back from the distraction. But her attention wandered again as faint voices drifted from the shop, carried on the stillness of the night. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but the clarity of the sound made it impossible not to hear.

“Are you leaving so soon, Tian Zhan?” Kai’s voice, familiar and earnest, reached her ears.

Tianyi tilted her head slightly. Something about him lingered in her memory, though the details were vague. Leader? No, not quite. There was an air of authority about him, but it wasn’t a title she understood. But she knew one thing.

The man was strong. Indescribably so.

“Yes,” Tian Zhan replied, his voice calm and even. “There’s much to do, and this partnership hinges on results. If your pills prove effective, the Whispering Wind Sect will provide the support you need. Until then, it’s a matter of trust.”

“I understand,” Kai said. “I’ll make sure they’re the best I can produce.”

“That,” Tian Zhan said, a faint trace of approval in his tone, “is the attitude you should have. Focus your efforts there.”

Another voice entered the conversation, one Tianyi recognized as Feng Wu. “I’ll remain here for now. The Verdant Lotus Sect will need a full report, and I’ll await their instructions. In the meantime, I’ll oversee things here.”

The conversation dissolved into the background of Tianyi’s thoughts. Whatever arrangements the immortals were making, they didn’t concern her directly. At least, not yet.

She trusted Kai would handle things well.

Turning away from the courtyard, she drifted closer to the greenhouse. The faint warmth radiating from within drew her, a stark contrast to the night’s chill. The light, the energy, the hum of life... it all felt familiar, almost comforting. Windy adjusted his coil again, squeezing gently as if sensing her unease.

Stronger. The thought resonated within her, unspoken but insistent. She had to be stronger.

The sparring sessions with Kai were something, but they weren’t enough. The memory of Wei Long’s attack lingered in her mind, a vivid, visceral thing. She could still feel the pressure of his hands around her neck, the sharp edge of his intent to kill. The faint, hairline fractures on her skin were a reminder, fragile and stubborn.

She had survived, yes, but survival wasn’t enough.

Tianyi perched on the wooden fence, her knees bent and heels raised, balanced effortlessly on the balls of her feet. Frost had begun to edge the wooden posts beneath her, sparkling faintly in the moonlight. Around her, the garden lay still, blanketed in the quiet of the season.

Windy stirred on her shoulders, coiling tighter for warmth. She could feel his scales against her neck, cool but reassuring, and absently ran her fingers along his back. Her breath left faint wisps of vapor in the air, vanishing almost as quickly as they formed. The stillness of the night was comforting, but her thoughts were restless.

The soft creak of wood broke the silence, and her gaze shifted toward the shop. Tian Zhan emerged, his steps steady and unhurried. The pale light of the lanterns cast long shadows across his form, highlighting the sharp lines of his face.

Her indifferent eyes met his as he passed. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, hers calm and unblinking, his sharp and measuring. His own gaze was sharp, piercing even, like a bird of prey surveying its surroundings. Not like the small, bothersome birds that pecked at the greenhouse, but the kind she remembered from her time as a butterfly, hunters that stalked creatures far larger than herself.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the moment broke. Tian Zhan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and turned away, the faint crunch of frost beneath his boots the only sound as he moved to leave.

Something about his presence, however, tugged at her thoughts. Almost on instinct, she called out, her voice cutting through the stillness.

“What makes you so strong?”

The question escaped her before she fully realized she’d spoken. Her voice cut cleanly through the stillness of the garden.

Tian Zhan paused mid-step, clearly caught off guard. Slowly, he turned back, one brow raised, his expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying an easy nonchalance, “I thought you didn’t like me. You’ve been staring at me every time I’ve been here, and not once did you say a word. Honestly, I figured you were plotting something.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Tianyi replied evenly. Her wings shifted slightly, catching the faint glow of moonlight. “You’re... interesting.”

Tian Zhan blinked, then chuckled, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Fair enough. Alright, then. You want to know what makes me strong?”

She nodded, her gaze steady, but her wings stilled, as if mirroring her focus.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he mulled over her question. “It’s individuality,” he said at last. “The overwhelming belief in being my own person. If you spend your life chasing others, trying to mimic their paths, you’ll never be more than a shadow of what they are. You’ll never become more than that.”

Tianyi tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing Windy’s coiled form as she considered his words. “Do you think I can do it too?”

Tian Zhan’s surprise was evident for a moment before it gave way to a wide grin. “You? I’d say you don’t have much of a choice. Look at yourself. There’s no one else like you. Probably never will be. You’re already one-of-a-kind. That means your path has to be your own, whether you like it or not.”

Tianyi’s gaze lowered briefly, her fingers trailing over the faint marks on her neck. The memory of Wei Long’s strangling grip lingered there, a reminder of her near defeat.

“Good luck, butterfly,” Tian Zhan said with a casual wave as he turned away. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you do with it.”

His figure disappeared down the path, his silhouette swallowed by the growing shadows of the trees. Tianyi remained perched on the fence, her gaze lingering on the empty space where he had stood.

Above, the first flakes of snow began to drift down, light and soft, blanketing the garden in pristine white. The path before her was soon covered in a smooth, unbroken sheet of snow, blank and untouched. It stretched endlessly into the night, pale and shimmering in the faint moonlight.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile as she murmured to herself, “Stronger.” Then, with Windy still coiled around her neck, she leapt lightly from the fence, her form blending into the quiet snowfall as she began to walk her path.