Led by Shoi-Ming to other pavilions to observe the training of the various disciples, Sakeru was full of enthusiasm and curiosity. This sect was very different from the others. Although the morning training was done together, under the watchful eye of Zi Xuan or a senior member, each shidi quickly returned to their shizun or went off to train on their own.
There, in the middle of the courtyard, a series of motionless wooden dummies stood in a row, waiting to serve as training targets for the disciples of one of the masters of the Ethereal Clouds Sect.
The latter watched them from the side, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and a stern look on his face. He looks like one of those dojo masters ready to pull out a stick at any moment to strike those who fail the exercise.
The unarmed disciples take various steps forward, perfectly synchronized with each other, and strike forward with their palms as if sending an invisible charge of energy toward the dummy. The dummy wobbles back and forth, quickly returning to its place, which doesn't even elicit a smile of satisfaction from their instructor, who grumbles before hitting them on the back of the head. "Not enough," he says. "Follow the example of..."
Shoi-Ming grimaces—he doesn't like the idea of violence, even if it involves the protagonist who will rise above adversity.
No matter how much one tells oneself that this is what will shape him into an exceptional cultivator, he doubts that darkening his heart by making him aware of rivalry, hatred, jealousy, and humiliation is the solution. What good is it to be a good cultivator if he ends up becoming a man who doubts himself and constantly compares himself to others?
But it's not up to him to decide.
The child, captivated, focuses his attention solely on the disciples' exercises and imitates their gestures, striking the air with conviction. His movements are clumsy and far from the precision of his elders, but he puts his whole heart into it.
"Not good enough," the other shizun would have said.
Could this adorable face convince him not to lay a hand on this little angel? When he looks up at Shoi-Ming with sparkling eyes, as if expecting something from him, Shoi-Ming can only smile sadly and continue on his way.
Next.
Come on, let's stay optimistic. He's just one master among many, each with his own method. Surely he'll find one who's less harsh.
This time, it is the disciples who are watching their master. So elegant and graceful, it almost looks like he is dancing as he deflects each projectile thrown at him by his own disciples, impressing many of them, if not the crowd as a whole.
Even Shoi-Ming can only marvel at such mastery. Will he ever reach his level? He's not sure.
Now it's their turn. The master reveals needles between each of his fingers and throws them straight at them. They're flying way slower than one would expect in a real fight, but still fast enough that freshly arrived disciples probably couldn't dodge them.
Yet they manage it. Perhaps by a narrow margin, but they show no sign of it, remaining dignified in all circumstances as their instructor comes towards them to congratulate them proudly.
It's just a beautiful picture full of hypocrisy. As soon as one of them dares to get dirty or fail, they are given the silent treatment, and the threat of being sent back to the weaklings on the street hangs over their heads.
Look at them, they've all become real jerks who think they're hot stuff and judge others based on their status and power. They help others not out of their own free will, but simply for glory, money, and because they've been ordered to.
Purely self-interested. But Shoi-Ming can't say he's a bad teacher. He treats his students well as long as they find favor in his eyes, and he's not violent. So he turns his gaze back to the child.
The child has bent down to pick up a needle lying on the ground and is already infusing it with his Qi, like the little genius he is. He throws it, but without any grace, it flies in an arc rather than a straight line and quickly falls to the ground. Undeterred, he picks up the needle, getting dirty in the process, and tries again and again.
He does not yet know the guilt and shame that one feels with each failure. Is it a strength or a weakness to remain oblivious to what a mistake implies on the battlefield?
Sakeru comes from a humble background. Will he become an easy target for ridicule because of his lack of education and concern for cleanliness?
Once again, Sakeru observes Shoi-Ming's reaction as he sighs as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Perhaps it's because he's starting to have his fill of teachers and none of them are suitable?
There is one left, and he obviously didn't want to go to his training session.
Jun Hie is the best of teachers. What matters to him is a person's potential, and Sakeru is just that kind of prodigy. He will fully exploit the protagonist's abilities and make him not just a good cultivator, but the best, without traumatizing him.
The catch is—what will become of Sakeru under his influence? Will the protagonist end up following in Jun-Hie's footsteps and betraying the sect? And then will he set it ablaze? And Shoi-Ming? Is this how he will die?
He doesn't even want to look at the child this time, afraid to see that his choice has already been made.
At least, he should give him some guidance first.
Shoi-Ming's tension eventually dispels the little boy's initial excitement, giving way to latent anxiety. He clings to his leg and looks up at him, searching for answers in his eyes.
Children can be incredibly perceptive. Shoi-Ming forces a smile and pats him on the head.
"Don't worry, I told you, you don't have to make your choice now—take all the time you need, it's an important decision. Today was just a little tour to give you an idea. I have some things to tell you that I'd like you to take note of. This isn't about learning, think of it as my way of looking out for you."