The mountain did not believe in gentle mornings.
A staff slammed against the dorm door hard enough to make it jump on its hinges. "Up! If you cannot breathe by sunrise, the mountain will bury you by noon!"
Rat groaned, rolled off his straw bunk, and hit the floor with the grace of a dropped potato sack. "I'm awake," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Just negotiating with the floor about rent."
Someone snorted from a nearby bunk. Someone else groaned like they were already dead. The air smelled of sweat, wood, and fear trying not to be noticed.
He tied his sash, adjusted his copper badge, and stepped outside into a courtyard washed pale by dawn. The light felt like it had climbed too far for too little warmth.
Around him, maybe fifty survivors stood in uneven rows. They were still half ghosts from the climb and the trials. The air was thin enough to count as a test on its own.
At the center stood Instructor Zhen. Her robe was pale blue, simple but perfectly pressed, her staff dark and worn smooth where it met her hand. She looked like she had been carved from the same mountain they were expected to conquer.
Her voice carried like stone rolling downhill. "Outer Sect candidates. The Open Sky Sect does not give air for free. You will borrow breath, and you will return it properly. If you fail to learn the exchange, the mountain will collect what you owe."
Rat squinted at her. "What if I'm already in debt?"
Her eyes flicked toward him. Just a glance, but it felt like a slap.
"Then," she said, "you will make an excellent lesson."
Laughter rippled through the recruits; nervous, sharp. Rat bowed low, hiding his grin. "Understood, Instructor. I've always been educational."
"Circles," Zhen ordered. "Ten to each basin. Begin Sky Meridian breathing."
The candidates shuffled into rough rings around wide bronze basins etched with weather-worn runes. Each basin held still water that reflected the sky above, pure and blue and completely uncaring.
Rat sat cross-legged near the back, feeling the stone's cold sink through his bones. The Codex murmured faintly behind his eyes, its presence subtle, like silk threads brushing skin.
Zhen tapped her staff once, and the courtyard hushed. "Sky Meridian breathing is not about pulling Qi into your body. It is about lending your breath to the world and accepting what it gives back. You are not separate from the mountain. You are the echo that proves it is listening."
A boy coughed. Another tried to imitate the instructor's calm posture and failed halfway through an inhale.
Rat whispered under his breath, "So… it's robbery, but polite."
"Focus, Rat," someone hissed beside him.
He grinned. "I am focused. On not dying of meditation."
Zhen continued as though no one dared interrupt her. "Qi is not wind. It is weight. Let it fall through you and settle in the belly. Do not clutch at it. If you grasp, it burns. If you fear it, it leaves."
She began to breathe with them, long and measured, the rise and fall of her chest deliberate, like a tide remembering its schedule. "Follow the spine. Feel the cold air slide through your ribs. Anchor your thoughts behind the navel. You are not filling yourself; you are making space."
Rat tried. Inhale. Pour. Settle. Exhale. Return. It wasn't perfect, but his body remembered this part, the rhythm he'd fought for at the temple, the warmth that had cracked open his foundation.
The Codex flickered faintly.
[Qi density: moderate. Circulation stable.]
He snorted quietly. "For once, we agree."
Around him, the sound of others struggling filled the space. Labored breaths. Too sharp. Too short. Someone choked, panicked. The air turned sharp.
Zhen's voice floated through the tension. "Do not command the breath. Entice it. You would not grab a bird by the wing if you wanted it to stay."
Rat grinned. "Depends how hungry you are."
Then he heard it, something off in the rhythm nearby. A dry, thin wheeze, rising faster than it should. A boy maybe sixteen, thin as a candle wick, his shoulders shaking.
The Codex stirred again.
[Qi surge irregular. Circulation unstable.]
[Risk: internal backlash.]
Rat hissed under his breath. "You're joking."
The instructor was several circles away, correcting another student's posture. No one else noticed. The boy's breath hitched once more, then froze. His eyes rolled slightly back.
"Hey," Rat said, scooting closer. "Stop dying. That's tomorrow's lesson."
No answer. His fingers brushed the boy's wrist, and something bit through him, heat, light, and a memory that wasn't his.
A woman at a gate in autumn. A red-leaf tree bending in the wind. The weight of loss that felt practiced.
Rat's breath caught, then steadied. He didn't fight the rhythm. He fed it back. "Follow me," he muttered. "Slow down. Don't pull, pour. Pour, idiot."
The boy gasped once, exhaled, then slumped forward. His breath found a pattern again, shaky, but alive.
Zhen appeared at their side like smoke condensing into form. Her eyes lingered on Rat's hand, still pressed to the boy's arm.
"What technique was that?"
"Breathing," Rat said. "You should try it. Keeps the dying away."
A few snickers broke out. She didn't smile. She didn't even blink. "Bold tongue."
"Strong lungs," he countered.
Her gaze sharpened. "Keep them that way." Then she looked at the boy. "Name?"
The boy sat straighter, still pale. "Wei Yun, Instructor."
Her voice softened by a fraction. "Your meridians panic easily, Wei Yun. You will see the physician before nightfall. And you-" she looked back at Rat, "do not interfere with the mountain's tests without permission."
Rat bowed. "I'll write it an apology."
Zhen's staff thudded once against the ground. "Back to breathing."
When she walked away, Rat muttered, "She likes me."
Wei Yun coughed a weak laugh. "That's… one word for it."
As the circle resumed, Rat rubbed his palm. It still burned faintly, but the heat was fading. The Codex hummed behind his eyes again.
[Fate Interaction recorded.]
[Fate Entanglement +1.]
[New pattern detected: Shared Thread (Nascent).]
He pretended not to notice. He didn't want to explain why someone else's memory still smelled like rain in his head.
When the exercise finally ended, Wei Yun stayed sitting, drained but breathing right. Rat offered him a hand.
"Next time," Rat said, "try not to explode."
Wei Yun smiled faintly. "I'll add that to my cultivation goals."
Rat looked him over. Despite the tremors, there was something steady in the boy's gaze, like he'd already broken before and refused to hide the cracks.
"Where you from?"
"Autumn Maple City," Wei Yun said quietly. "My father was Wei Jinhai."
The name felt heavy, though Rat couldn't place why. He nodded. "Rat. From the part of the Basin that doesn't get names."
Wei Yun managed a small laugh. "That explains the accent."
"Explains the smell too," Rat said, brushing dust off his robes. "Don't worry, it grows on you. Like mold."
They parted as the courtyard emptied, each pretending not to limp.
Rat sat near the basin again. The water was still as a mirror, but the reflection was different now, threaded faintly with light, like something beneath the surface was weaving.
The Codex unfurled, soft as a whisper.
[Codex of Strands of Fate – Status Update]
Vitality: 4
Qi Sense: 4
Comprehension: 3
Fate Entanglement: 13
Realm: Foundation Establishment
New Passive Skill: Shared Thread (Nascent)
Effect: When stabilizing another's failing circulation through contact, a temporary connection may form. Shared sensation, emotion, or memory may occur. Overuse risks pattern instability.
New Appendix: Loom Theory, Fragment One
"The one who binds what would break learns the first knot. Knots hold weight. Knots draw weight."
Rat read it twice, then muttered, "So… therapy, but worse."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the last of the heat fade. "If this means I start seeing ghosts, I want a refund."
The Codex, predictably, did not care.
From behind, Instructor Zhen's voice broke the quiet. "You altered his rhythm without touching his Qi channels. That should be impossible."
Rat didn't look back. "Good thing I specialize in impossible."
She circled the basin, eyes unreadable. "You borrow breath well, Rat. Just remember, it must be returned."
"Sure," he said. "I'll put it on credit."
Her lips twitched once, almost a smile, or maybe a grimace. Then she left.
He looked into the basin again. The reflection's threads pulsed faintly, echoing the beat behind his ribs. For a moment, he saw two threads side by side, his and Wei Yun's, twisting close, then fading into the water.
He closed his eyes. "Fine. Borrowed breath. Borrowed life. Let's see how long the loan lasts."
The wind passed over the courtyard, carrying the faint scent of pine and snow. It didn't answer. It rarely did.
[Codex of Strands of Fate - Update]
Fate Entanglement: +1
New Passive Skill: Shared Thread (Nascent)
New Appendix: Loom Theory, Fragment One – "The first knot is mercy. Mercy binds."
Rat leaned back against the cold stone, smirking faintly. "Mercy, huh? Guess I'm running low already."
The basin rippled once, like it laughed back.