The sun came up once more, golden and gentle, pouring down over the peaceful house on the edge of the hill. A gentle breeze swept through the open window, rustling the thin curtains. The faraway roosters and vendors hawking their wares were distant echoes here.
Yuhao lay awake for hours.
He stood bare chested in the backyard, slightly bent knees, arms extended and palms up. A big boulder, plate-like and disc-shaped, settled on each of his hands. They weren't heavy—each weighing only maybe fifteen kilos—but he steadied them nonetheless.
Sweat etched slow paths on his back.
This was the fourth iteration of the resistance training he'd created. Not for sheer strength. That would follow. For the time being, this was for strengthening the tendons and muscular endurance—building the foundation.
He remained motionless.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Every breath held threads of purple light—weak, subtle—derived from the residual glow of the morning sun. His system-enhanced control let him identify how the energy moved through his meridians. He left the Sharingan deactivated during these sessions. The energy here was organic, and activating ocular power would warp the sensation.
A form of still meditation through effort.
Five minutes went by.
Ten.
Then fifteen.
He finally let his arms down, placing the stones on the ground silently.
His hands shook ever so slightly—just slightly. Fine.
He had a swig of a flask of herbal water and progressed to the next pattern.
---
Within, Yun'er woke up. She coughed briefly—once, perhaps twice—and then the coughing ceased. Her condition had stabilized, but there were still occasional indications of strain. Yuhao reminded himself to apply another medicinal compression to her lungs tonight.
He walked in just as she was sitting on the edge of the bed, combing her hair with deliberate fingers.
"You didn't wake me," she said without turning to him.
You needed the rest," Yuhao replied simply.
She nodded briefly and rose. Her balance was good today. Her walk to the table was tranquil, unhurried.
Yuhao served warm water and the flower tea infusion he had boiled an hour before. He said nothing. She asked nothing. There was nothing awkward in the silence—it had become their rhythm.
As she sipped, he sat nearby and began folding dry herbs into parchment envelopes.
"You're stronger than last week," he said after a while.
"I feel less cold," she admitted. "The fatigue… it fades faster now."
He nodded once, satisfied.
"By the end of the month," he added, "you'll start walking longer routes."
Her expression didn't change, but he saw a quiet confidence in her eyes.
---
He went back to the hill path behind his house later in the day. Weighted bands covered his arms and legs—not too heavily laden, just enough to activate deeper layers of muscles. Every step, he would activate certain meridians by conscious circulation of his internal energy.
The system gave correction feedback.
[Stride Alignment: 97%]
[Circulation Efficiency: 91%]
[Energy Leakage: Minimal]
He would run for thirty minutes only—short, but high-precision.
He didn't intend to become heavy or quick all at once. He desired strength that would not impede his control.
His Sharingan reacted once more during the last loop.
He observed the tension flowing across his calf muscles, the flexing of his joints, and the natural rebound of his step. He modified his stride in response, synchronizing posture with breath.
By the time he completed the exercise, his shirt stuck to him and his breathing was labored but deep. The sweat dried fast in the wind.
---
At dusk, he unfolded his improvised stretching bench—a flat wooden plank set at an angle against a supporting beam. Yun'er sat close by, shelling peas for dinner, humming softly to herself.
He did not glance at her, but she made the air serene.
He stretched slowly, managing his breathing, lengthening each muscle group. When she was done, he presented her with warm towels and a clean set of clothes. She had started washing her hair more frequently now, using the mild soaps he prepared using mountain herbs.
Her color had improved.
Color had returned to her lips.
She no longer coughed during sleep.
---
After supper, Yuhao drew his sword once more. A plain wooden blade, sanded down and oiled meticulously. He didn't swing it for fighting. He employed it to hone his concentration.
He stood in the moonlight and started his routine.
Each step, calibrated. Each motion, calculated.
The system charted his stance in real time.
[Basic Sword Form – Projection Alignment: 94%]
[Form Stability: 92%]
[Improvement Threshold Reached – Upgrade Available]
He stopped.
The system indicated a refinement.
> "Sword Form Refinement: Adaptive Edge Protocol Available."
"Incorporate muscle response feedback and Sharingan tracking for natural reflex acceleration?"
"Yes," he whispered.
There was a jolt of heat along his spine. His body shifted minutely as the muscle memory refreshed. Not a power-up. Simple enhanced instinct.
He continued practicing.
Faster. This time. Tighter.
Each swing a geometry lesson.
Each breath a beat.
---
By the end of it, the stars had darkened overhead.
Yun'er had already retired. He washed quietly, locked the door, and sat at the table. He spread out the dried maps he had copied from the merchant quarter—sketches of Star Dou Forest, terrain estimations, and old traveler notes.
Too early still.
He wouldn't leave yet.
She needed three more weeks, perhaps four.
And he wanted his own body to be in top shape.
Only then would he venture into the deeper forest. Only then would he look for the Tianmeng Silkworm.
He folded up the maps and stashed them under the floorboards, behind the herbs.
Another day done.
No hurry.
No frailty.
Only consistent growth.