The courtyard of the Wind Flower Sect was still. Lian Yi could hear nothing but the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind and the faint whistle of her guan dao cutting through the air. Her swings were forceful, but they lacked finesse. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her arms ached from the relentless repetition. She had been practicing for hours, muscles burning with exertion, but the frustration in her chest burned hotter.
The forms were familiar, ingrained in her through years of training, but the weapon itself still felt foreign. The guan dao was heavier than she was used to, its long blade demanding more precision and strength than her usual sword. Every time she thought she was getting the hang of it, her body would betray her with a faltering step or a wobble in her grip.
Ahmad stood nearby, leaning lazily against a stone pillar, his arms crossed and his eyes distant, as though watching her was an afterthought. He might be called her master, but he did not seem particularly interested in being one. His disinterest was evident in the way he occasionally offered curt corrections imbeteeen the sips of rice wine he was taking, almost never elaborating on what he ment. It frustrated Lian Yi more than she wanted to admit.
“Relax your grip,” Ahmad said without looking at her. “You’re too tense.”
Lian Yi gritted her teeth, her patience thinning. She adjusted her hold on the guan dao, but the annoyance lingered. He didn’t teach her the way she was used to. Her previous masters at the Wind Flower Sect including her father, were precise, hands-on, and thorough. They had nurtured her talents with discipline and care, but Ahmad?
Ahmad was… none of those things. He watched, he criticized, but he didn’t instruct, not in any way that felt meaningful to her. He was like an older brother forced to do homework with his younger sibling.
Her legs wobbled as she pushed herself into another set of forms, the weight of the weapon dragging her down. She could feel her technique slipping, and her frustration flared. She wanted guidance, real instruction, something more than the occasional offhand remark.
She stopped, catching her breath, and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her body was trembling slightly from the effort, but her spirit was what felt truly drained.
“You barely teach me,” she said, the frustration slipping into her tone before she could stop it. “You watch me struggle, and then you give vague advice. What''s the point of you even being here?”
Ahmad glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in what might have been amusement. “I’m not a master. Never claimed to be one.”
Lian Yi blinked, startled by the bluntness of his response. “But you’re strong, right? My father wouldn’t have asked you to train me if you weren’t. Surely you can do mkre than taht”
He shrugged. “Strong enough to stay alive. So far, at least.”
That answer didn’t sit well with her. “So why are you here, then? If you’re not my master, what am I supposed to learn from you?”
Ahmad straightened, his gaze sharpening slightly as he looked at her. “Your father didn’t have many options. He picked me because I''m the strongest man he had ever seen, at least back then i was, and he knew I wouldn’t sell you out to another sect.”
She blinked, his words cutting deeper than she had expected. So that was it? She was with him because there was no one else? Because the Wind Flower Sect was too small, too insignificant to have its pick of masters? It stung, but deep down, she knew it was the truth. Their sect had always been fragile, surviving only by avoiding conflict with the larger, more powerful groups.
Ahmad continued, “You want fancy techniques? You won’t get that from me. I teach you by letting you figure it out. You’ve trained enough to know the basics. Now it’s about learning to adapt, to make those techniques your own. Experience is worth more than a thousand practce swings.”
Lian Yi shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around his approach. “But how can I improve if you don’t show me what to do? Won''t blindly swinging around possibly damage my foundation?”
“You think strength comes from copying what others did?” Ahmad scoffed. “Martial arts aren’t about memorizing forms and repeating them perfectly. They’re tools. The best martial masters created their own paths because the ones they learned weren’t good enough. You’re wasting your energy on perfecting something that might not even work for you."
After a short pause he continued. "The worst saying i have ever heard is “A martial art isn’t weak or strong, it all depends on who uses it.” That’s something only an idiot would say, the best martial masters make the best martial arts which the next generation use and improve to create even stronger martial masters who will improve or create new martial arts. Sure, you can become the strongest with the same martial arts that bandits use. But you won’t, at some point you WILL discard or change them to the point they might as well be their own thing.”
His words unsettled her, but they also intrigued her. She had never thought about martial arts that way. In the Wind Flower Sect, they were taught that mastery came from perfecting the techniques passed down through generations. Ahmad’s philosophy was… chaotic. It was as if he didn’t believe in the things she had been taught her whole life. Yet she couldn’t deny what he was saying, much to her dismay.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” she asked, exhaustion creeping into her voice.
“Stop fighting the weapon,” Ahmad said, his voice calm but firm. “You’re treating it like an obstacle, something to be controlled. You have to remember that at the end of the day you''ve only been learning for half a day, what you need most isn''t advice but time.”
Lian Yi stared at him, her mind spinning. She wanted to argue, to push back against his vague advice, but she was too tired to do so. She had been training for almost the entire day by now, half of it with the guan dao.
Her body was heavy with fatigue, and her mind was clouded with doubt. She didn’t understand him, didn’t understand why her father had chosen someone so unorthodox to train her.
With a sigh, she lowered the weapon and turned away. The day was slipping into evening, and she knew she couldn’t continue much longer without collapsing.
Her legs were trembling from the exertion, and her arms felt like they were made of lead.
“I’m done for today,” she said quietly, not meeting Ahmad’s gaze.
He didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect him to. She had learned quickly that he wasn’t one for encouraging words or praise. He simply watched as she walked away, his eyes as unbothered by the world around him as always.
---
As the sun set, casting long shadows across the Wind Flower Sect’s modest courtyard, Lian Yi made her way to her father’s study. Her body ached from the day’s training, and her mind was weighed down by her growing doubts. Ahmad’s words echoed in her head, challenging everything she had believed about martial arts, about strength.
Her father looked up as she entered, his expression softening when he saw her. He sat behind a small wooden desk, scrolls, and books spread out before him, as they usually were. Despite the quiet air of authority he always carried, the lines of weariness on his face were unmistakable.
“Lian Yi,” he greeted her, setting aside the scroll he had been reading. “How was your training today?”
She hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “It’s… different. Ahmad doesn’t teach me the way I’m used to.”
Her father’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”
“He barely teaches me at all,” she admitted, her frustration bubbling to the surface again. “He just watches, makes a few comments here and there, but he doesn’t actually show me what to do. It’s like he expects me to figure everything out on my own.”
Her father leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. “Ahmad is not like the masters of our sect. Or any sect for that matter, but he is strong, and that is a fact.”
“But why him?” Lian Yi asked, the question that had been gnawing at her finally slipping out. “Why not ask another master from a different sect? Someone more… traditional?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Her father sighed, the weight of his decision evident in his voice. “My daughter, the truth is, our sect is small and weak. We’ve survived because we’ve stayed out of the way, because we haven’t drawn attention to ourselves. The larger sects wouldn’t have agreed to train you without expecting something in return, something we couldn’t afford. And those i can trust are too weak to protect you.”
Lian Yi frowned, her heart sinking. She had always known their sect wasn’t as powerful as the others, but hearing it laid out so plainly was still painful.
Her father continued, “Ahmad was the only one I could trust. He has no ties to any sect, no ambition for power. He’s strong in his own way, not because of any title or rank. Not only that, but he survived in ways few others have. Even if most wouldn’t call what he’s doing living.” The last sentence he whispered, the words missing Lian Yi’s ears
Lian Yi sat quietly, absorbing his words. “But he doesn’t even know our ranks. I told him I’m at the late general stage, and he acted like it didn’t matter.” She pouted slightly. Reaching the late general stage at 15 was no easy feat and she was proud of it.
Her father smiled softly. “To him, it probably doesn’t. He… is special, ranks don’t realy apply to him, so he might not apply them to others. Or he doesn''t know what it means, he''s originally from the east, and they might call it something else. Honestly, you can never know with him.” He sighed.
Lian Yi bit her lip, feeling conflicted. “But can I really become stronger without following the traditional path?”
Her father’s gaze softened as he leaned forward. “The Wind Flower Sect’s teachings have kept us alive, but Ahmad is right. If you want to thrive, if you want to truly grow, you need to go beyond what’s been taught. You need to find your own way, Lian Yi. Ahmad can help you with that.”
She met her father’s eyes, seeing the truth in his words. The path ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the only one that would lead her to the strength she needed. She stood, her resolve hardening.
“I understand,” she said quietly.
Her father nodded, his expression filled with both pride and concern. “Good. Trust yourself, Lian Yi. And trust Ahmad, even if his methods seem strange. And don''t mind the alcohol too much. Actually, that''s something I wanted to talk to you about before you left, but I''ll just do it now.”
She looked at him with a questioning gaze.
“He… Has problems, a lot of problems actually. And I doubt they got better in the years since we last met.” Her father said with a weird tone, something between sadness and concern. “Just… Keep him drunk, and don''t let any young masters near him.”
Lian Yi stared at her father, taken aback by his strange advice. "Keep him drunk? What do you mean?" she asked, her voice filled with confusion and concern.
Her father sighed, rubbing his temples as though weary of the explanation he had to give. "Ahmad… he''s been through more than most people can handle. When I met him years ago, he was already on the edge, frankly speaking I took advantage of that, that''s the reason he''s here, I helped him and he is helping me in exchange. A man like him, well, let''s just say while listening to some of his stories I called him a liar more often than not, only for him to prove himself each and every time. As for young masters… well, the last one who told him he was courting death has srill not been found to this very day.”
Lian Yi frowned. "But how can I trust someone like that to teach me?”
Her father looked at her with soft eyes, his expression heavy with understanding. "I know it sounds strange, but Ahmad is stronger than you realize, stronger than anyone realizes. When he’s sober, he remembers things he’d rather forget. It’s better for both of you if he stays… mellow. He can still teach you, he just needs a little help to stay calm."
She bit her lip, the idea of relying on someone so broken unsettling her. But her father’s trust in Ahmad was clear, even if the man wasn’t the traditional master she had hoped for. "And what happens if he doesn’t stay drunk? What if something happens?”
Her father’s eyes darkened. "If Ahmad is pushed too far, or his demons catch up to him… he can be dangerous. That’s why I’m telling you to be careful, Lian Yi. Don''t let him near anyone who might provoke him. He won''t hurt you, of that i am sure, but I can''t say the same about those who pushed him.”
Lian Yi nodded slowly, her mind swirling with doubts. She had seen a glimpse of Ahmad’s disinterest, his aloofness, but now she understood it came from a deeper place of pain. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care, it was that he was trying not to.
With nothing else to talk about, she bid her father goodnight and proceeded to leave.
As Lian Yi left her father’s study, her mind buzzed with their conversation. Ahmad''s unpredictable nature was now more apparent, however, it did not diminish the frustration of her training. She walked slowly down the dimly lit path toward the front door, her steps heavy with the weight of her father’s advice.
As she left the main building, the cool night air brushed against her skin, and the distant sounds of the Wind Flower Sect settling down for the night were faint in the background. Just as she neared the secluded area where her room was located, Ahmad appeared from the shadows, walking toward her with his usual lazy stride. His arms were crossed, and he didn’t seem to care that he had appeared out of nowhere.
“Done chatting with your old man?” he asked, his voice low, as though what she had been talking about didn’t matter in the slightest.
Lian Yi tensed for a moment, but quickly relaxed. “Yeah, we talked for a while. Mostly about you, actually.”
Ahmad gave her a lazy glance, his expression completely indifferent. “Good for you.”
His lack of interest in what had just felt like a significant conversation between her and her father only deepened Lian Yi’s sense of frustration. For someone who was supposed to be guiding her, Ahmad didn’t seem to care about anything she did outside of the practice courtyard.
They walked side by side in silence, Ahmad’s attention shifting to the stars above, like her presence was little more than an afterthought. Eventually, he spoke again, his tone as casual as ever.
“So, what’s with all these ranks you people keep talking about? General this, soldier that. Do they mean anything, or is it just something to brag about?”
Lian Yi blinked at the sudden question, surprised that he was asking now. “You don’t know about cultivation stages?”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “In the east we call them realms and within them are stages, that’s it. First realm third stage that kind of thing.”
Lian Yi shook her head. “Well, we also have stages, but instead of numbers we use names. Soldier Stage is the first, then, General, weapon master, Saint, and Unity realm. Each is further divided into early, mid and late. They’re how we measure progress and strength.”
Ahmad snorted softly. “Ok. Where does that put you?”
She nodded. “I became a Late general half a year ago.”
“And what can you do?” Frustration in his voice as if she was the annoying one for not predicting how much he knew and what he wanted to ask.
Lian Yi frowned, her frustration bubbling back up. “I can move the ki around my body, and i can infuse it into a weapon. I’m working on becoming a weapon mater, but i’ve only been a late general for a year. How about you, what stage are you at?”
Ahmad gave her a sidelong glance, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips before saying with a dismissive wave of his hand. “None of those. I’m a bit special, you see”
Lian Yi sighed, rolling her eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t give a straight answer, she wanted to strangle him right where he stood. Still, her father had insisted Ahmad had his own strengths, even if they didn’t fit neatly into the ranks and titles the sects held dear. But, hadn’t her father also called him special? But after looking at his distant face she decided against asking about it.
As they continued walking, Ahmad’s gaze wandered lazily over the buildings of the sect, as if he were scanning for something. After a few moments, he finally asked, “So, where am I supposed to sleep?”
Lian Yi raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me? Didn’t my father arrange something for you?”
Ahmad shrugged, as if the idea didn’t concern him in the slightest. “Didn’t ask. Don’t really care. Just thought I’d check before I found a spot under a tree.”
She bit back a smile, amused by how little Ahmad seemed to care about his own comfort. “Well, if you’re not too picky, there’s a barn out back. Plenty of hay, andmaybe a few rats to keep you company. Should be perfect for someone you.”
Ahmad chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that held little actual mirth. “Sounds like home. A little girl like you doesn’t know but sleeping under a naked sky is the norm for travelers. And on hay? That’s a dream come true.”
She grew even more annoyed by hisesponse. She sighed. “There’s a guest house not far from here. I’ll show you.”
As they walked toward the guest house, Lian Yi noticed how relaxed Ahmad seemed, like he had no care in the world. His nonchalance both frustrated and intrigued her. There was a weightlessness to him, as though nothing could really touch him.
When they reached the guest house, Ahmad gave it a quick glance, nodding in apparent approval as if what was inside didn’t matter in the slightest. “This’ll do.”
Lian Yi crossed her arms, her smirk returning. “Not as good as the barn?”
Ahmad gave her a half-grin, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I’ll survive. Just don’t wake me too early. I’m not a fan of mornings. Wake me after you collapse at least 3 times from exhaustion”
She chuckled. “Noted. Goodnight.” At least he could joke, so she wasn’t doomed to die of boredom.
He nodded, already heading toward the door. “Night.”
As Lian Yi turned to leave, she couldn’t help but feel that despite his lack of interest, Ahmad was someone worth learning from, just in a way she didn’t quite understand yet. His indifference, while frustrating, seemed to hide something deeper. For now, though, she would let it be and get some rest of her own. Heavens knew she needed it more than anyone else.
Fill section. You do NOT need to read this. I am leaving this here for future reference. All stages and realms will be explained as the series goes along.
Soldier: A practitioner who wields a weapon but has yet to cultivate ki. This stage is commonly referred to by a distinct name, as for most individuals, it takes several years of diligent training to accumulate enough ki to progress.
Early General: At this stage, a martial artist possesses sufficient ki for passive enhancement of their physical body, increasing strength and resilience.
Mid General: The practitioner gains a basic understanding of ki manipulation, allowing them to channel ki into specific body parts. For example, they can imbue a fist with ki for a powerful strike, though other parts of the body will lack ki during this time.
Late General: Is capable of imbuing ki into objects, reinforcing them with energy.
Early Weapon Master: The practitioner can now manipulate ki across multiple objects, including their own body and one or more weapons simultaneously. However, dividing ki between multiple entities weakens its overall effectiveness. At this stage, they possess approximately double the ki of a Late General significantly enhancing their durability and potency in battle
Mid Weapon Master: With further refinement and understanding of ki, the martial artist achieves greater ki reserves and control, enabling more complex and sustained usage.
Late Weapon Master: At this point, ki becomes even more condensed and refined, nearly doubling the amount of ki possessed by an Early Weapon Master. This allows for much more powerful and precise control of ki infused techniques.
Early Saint: Upon reaching this level, the martial artist undergoes a bodily transformation, often appearing visibly younger as their body is reshaped for optimal combat performance. However, many approach this stage with a mix of excitement and dread, because while the process makes them significantly stronger, it may also “decrease” or even remove certain prized physical features, like muscles, beards, or even more… private attributes. Much to their dismay. Their lifespan is significantly extended, roughly doubling that of a normal person. They also gain the ability to project ki from a distance, making ranged attacks, like arrows, more viable by enhancing their speed and power without the ki dissipating over distance.
Mid Saint: A practitioner at this level is able to control multiple objects from afar or manipulate larger, heavier objects with ki, demonstrating their increased mastery over ki projection and manipulation.
Late Saint: Though extremely challenging, the martial artist can achieve limited flight by imbuing the object they stand on with ki. They can also lift fully grown adults or other large objects from a distance, displaying a high degree of ki control alongside the higher amount.
Early Unity Realm: This stage is named for the martial artist’s near-perfect unity with ki, both inside their body and in the surrounding environment. With their greatly increased ki reserves passively affecting their speed, strength, and reflexes it makes them virtually invincible against those below the Unity Realm. If enough ki is concentrated it can even become visible to the naked eye, it’s color ranges from transparent white to dark blue depending on the amount of ki.
Mid Unity Realm: Martial artists at this stage can launch ranged ki attacks without the need for weapons, with the strength of their attacks rivaling those of a Late Saint’s ki imbued weapon strikes. They can now achieve flight simply by willing the ki within and around their bodies to lift them.
Late Unity Realm: At the pinnacle of the Unity Realm, the martial artist’s ki reserves have doubled. When fully concentrated into the body, they become impervious to attacks from anyone below the Unity Realm.