For days, the forest breathed in silence.
Rain dripped through the canopy. Distant beast calls echoed across the valley. And inside the small wooden hut nestled beneath the cliffside, Derick and Lina healed.
Bandages were changed. Fever came and went. Sleep was restless but constant. Shen moved quietly between them, preparing herbs, muttering old curses about foolish youth and stubborn blood.
Derick's wounds were deep—his back still throbbed from the demon's claws—but he recovered quickly thanks to the low-grade beast crystal Shen placed under his bed. Its qi slowly merged with his own, circulating through his body like a healing tide.
Lina, however, was another story.
Lingering Shadows
She barely spoke.
Every night she woke from nightmares, clawing at her bedroll, eyes wide with unshed tears. Her parents. Her older brother. All gone. Torn from her like dry leaves in a storm.
Derick gave her space.
He remembered that kind of pain. The kind that made your soul ache louder than your wounds.
But slowly, something started to shift.
She began following him outside. Watching as he practiced his footwork. Mimicking his stances. Asking quiet questions.
"Can anyone become a cultivator?" she finally asked one morning.
Derick looked up from his stretches. "I think so. Why?"
She didn't answer at first. Then she held out a small, cracked jade bead Master Shen had given her to test her potential.
It didn't glow.
Not even a flicker.
"I'm too weak, aren't I?"
The Spirit Test
Shen confirmed it later that night.
"Her meridians are narrow. Blocked in some places. Her spiritual core is undeveloped, and her qi pool is shallow. By normal standards… she's unsuitable."
Derick frowned. "So what does that mean? She'll never cultivate?"
Shen hesitated. "It means… if she wants to walk this path, it will be long. Painful. Progress will be slow. Maybe impossibly so."
He glanced toward the door, where Lina was sleeping.
"But sometimes," he added, "the slowest flames burn the longest."
Building the Foundation
The next morning, Derick sat beside Lina under the old moonlit pine.
He held up a small crystal—weak, but filled with gentle qi.
"Hold this," he said. "Focus. Breathe slowly. Imagine the energy as light, crawling into your belly. It won't be easy. You might not even feel anything today. Or tomorrow. But we'll keep trying."
She looked down at the crystal, eyes doubtful.
"…Why help me?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately. He picked up a stick and drew a small circle in the dirt.
"When I was born into this world, humans were already broken. Used. Tossed aside. No one believed in us. Not even ourselves."
He looked at her, gaze firm.
"But that's going to change. And I don't care how slow you are. You're one of us. And I'll walk with you—step by step—until you catch fire."
Training the Weak Flame
Their days fell into rhythm.
Derick practiced advanced movement drills in the clearing, refining Shadow Step and beginning to understand how to merge it into attacks. He also began learning a new basic offensive technique from Shen—Stone Palm, a simple but solid open-hand strike technique that could fracture bone when fueled with qi.
Lina sat nearby, cross-legged, holding her crystal.
She practiced breathing techniques. Qi rotation. Muscle control. Her hands trembled. Her body resisted the flow.
But Derick was patient.
He corrected her posture. Brought her water. Sat beside her during meditation, sometimes in silence for hours.
And finally, after two weeks, something happened.
The crystal in her hands gave off a faint shimmer.
Barely a glow—but it was there.
"I felt something," she whispered. "Like… a warm thread… moving through me."
Derick smiled. "Good. That's the start of your fire."
Seeds of Tomorrow
By the end of the third week, Derick was sparring against tree trunks, embedding palm strikes into bark with small shockwaves.
Lina could hold a beast crystal for several minutes without coughing or bleeding from the nose.
Her progress was slow—but steady.
One evening, as the stars emerged, she sat beside him and whispered:
"I want to get strong. Not just to survive… but to protect someone too. Like you protected me."
Derick nodded.
"You will."
And though the heavens didn't tremble, and no ancient beasts cried out, a quiet shift took place that night—two souls, once broken and hunted, now standing together at the edge of something greater.
Not because they were born chosen.
But because they had chosen each other.