Li Jin's victory over General Xiao was not celebrated. It was a secret kept within the mountain's stone walls. To the other disciples, the general had simply come and gone. But for Li Jin, everything had changed. The dull fear he held for himself began to dissipate, replaced by a fragile but real confidence.
The Tiger, too, had changed. Its whispers of rage and provocation became rarer. Sometimes, during the long meditation sessions, Li Jin would feel its presence not as an enemy, but as a silent, distant observer—a predator studying a creature it no longer quite understood.
The training with the Grand Master entered a new phase. It was no longer just about defense and fluidity.
"The Breath of the World is not only an armor," the old man explained as they stood beside a perfectly still pond. "It is also a voice. You have learned to listen to the world. Now you must learn to speak to it."
He dipped his finger into the water. A tiny ripple spread across the surface, barely disturbing the reflection of the clouds. "The ordinary disciple uses his Qi to strike. That is a shout. It is crude. The master uses his intent to create a resonance. It is a whisper that can start an avalanche."
He told Li Jin to do the same. Li Jin dipped his finger in the water. Nothing happened, beyond the normal ripple.
"You are using your body," the Grand Master corrected. "Use your mind. Do not think of the water as separate from you. You are a part of it. It is a part of you. Suggest that it move."
Li Jin closed his eyes. He remembered the feeling of being within the invisible ocean. He tried to project an intention, a calm and clear thought, toward the water. He didn't ask it to move. He reminded it that it was movement.
He opened his eyes. A small spiral of water, no bigger than a coin, was slowly turning where his finger had been. It lasted for a few seconds, then the surface was smooth again.
It was infinitesimal. Insignificant. But it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He felt drained, as if he had just lifted a boulder.
The Grand Master nodded. "Good. The seed is planted."
Months passed. Autumn gave way to winter. Snow draped Mount Jingwei in a blanket of silence. Li Jin learned to create small breezes to make the leaves on a tree tremble, to encourage a bud to open slightly out of season. He wasn't commanding nature. He was collaborating with it.
One day, Wang An came to find him, his face grave. He handed him a sealed, yellowed piece of paper. "This came for you. A messenger from the capital."
Li Jin recognized the script. It was his mother's. His heart tightened. His family couldn't read or write. For them to have hired a scribe, the news had to be important. Or terrible.
He broke the seal, his hands trembling. The letter was short. His father was sick. A lung fever that wouldn't break, a common and often fatal ailment in the harsh winters. The village doctor said nothing more could be done, unless they could get rare herbs that only grew in the south and cost a fortune.
The letter asked for nothing. His mother simply stated the facts. But Li Jin understood the unspoken plea. He was their only hope.
He went to the Grand Master and showed him the letter. The old man read it, his face betraying no emotion.
"You want to go," he stated.
"He is my father. I have to try."
The Grand Master studied him for a long moment. "The world outside this mountain is not a calm pond, Li Jin. It is a torrent of desire, fear, and ambition. A perfect hunting ground for the Tiger. Are you ready?"
"I don't know," Li Jin answered honestly. "But I have to be."
He's right, the Tiger murmured, its first real interjection in months. The voice was seductive, almost reasonable. Your father is dying. You have the power to save him. We have the power to save him. The capital is a dangerous place. You will need my strength.
Li Jin felt the old temptation. The promise of a shortcut. To use a little of that power for a righteous cause. Sun Yue's trap.
"I will use only what you have taught me," Li Jin said to the Grand Master, but it was also an answer to the beast.
The old man seemed satisfied. "Very well. You have my permission to leave the mountain. Master Chen will give you a purse for your journey. It is not much, but it is all the school can offer. He will also give you a list. The herbs you seek. A former brother of our order was a renowned apothecary in Lin'an. His shop still stands. Look for the sign of the Jade Turtle."
Before Li Jin left, the Grand Master added one last thing. "Remember, Li Jin. The greatest strength is not that which conquers others, but that which masters oneself. Do not let grief or fear dictate your actions. Be the leaf, even in the storm of the city."
The journey was long and arduous. Just descending from Mount Jingwei was a shock. The air grew heavier, thick with the smells of earth and humanity. The silence was replaced by a constant clamor. For the first time in years, Li Jin felt overwhelmed. He was an anomaly, a boy in a simple disciple's robe amidst the farmers, merchants, and soldiers.
The Tiger was restless. The constant flood of human emotions—the greed of the merchants, the weariness of the travelers, the suspicion of the guards—was a feast for it. Li Jin had to constantly stay centered, focused on his breath, on the feeling of the World-Breath, to keep from being swept away.
He finally reached Lin'an. The southern capital was a monster of wood and stone, teeming with humanity. The canals were choked with barges, the streets so crowded it was a struggle to walk. The noise was a physical assault. Hawkers, merchants, hammers, horses, thousands of conversations blending into a dull roar.
Li Jin felt lost, insignificant. He clutched the purse and began his search for the Jade Turtle. He asked for directions several times, receiving suspicious glances or vague answers.
Finally, he found the shop, tucked away in a narrow alley, far from the bustling main streets. A simple wooden sign carved with a jade turtle hung over the door. The interior was dark, smelling of a thousand different herbs. An old man, as wrinkled and dusty as the jars on his shelves, looked up from his mortar and pestle.
Li Jin showed him the list. The old man read it, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Thousand-Year Ginseng Root. Celestial Snow Flower. Mountain Lingzhi Mushroom," he read aloud. "These are not remedies for a common fever, young man. This is a treatment to restore an almost extinguished life-force. And it costs a fortune. More than you will earn in ten lifetimes."
Li Jin placed his small purse on the counter. "This is all I have."
The apothecary looked at the few coins with pity. "This wouldn't even buy the box."
Despair struck Li Jin. He had come all this way only to fail at the final hurdle. The image of his sick father's face flashed in his mind. Fear. Grief.
I told you, the Tiger's voice was soft, compassionate. This world doesn't run on your principles of calm and patience. It runs on power and money. But there are other ways. This city is full of rich, corrupt men. A quick theft. No one would ever know. It's for your father. It's just.
The temptation was immense. It would be so easy. To use his speed, his agility. No one would see him. He could save his father.
Li Jin looked at his hands. Hands that had learned to feel the flow of the universe. Would he use them to steal?
"There must be another way," he said to the old man, his voice low. "A service. A job. Anything."
The apothecary shook his head. "I am a merchant, not a charity."
Just as he spoke, two men entered the shop. They were large, muscular, and dressed in black silk. Their faces were hard. They did not look like customers. They planted themselves at the counter, ignoring Li Jin completely.
"Master Feng," the leader said, his voice a low growl. "Our patron, Lord Xiao, is growing impatient. The delivery of the 'Spirit-Calming Incense' is late."
At the mention of the name "Xiao," the apothecary turned pale. Lord Xiao was known to be a powerful and ruthless man—a cousin of the general Li Jin had faced.
"The ingredients are rare," the old man stammered. "The shipment was delayed..."
"Excuses," the man cut him off. His eyes scanned the shelves and fell upon a small jade box behind the counter. He recognized it. "Is that Celestial Snow Flower? Very rare. Lord Xiao would be pleased to have it as compensation."
"No!" the apothecary protested. "That is the last of it! It is for another customer!"
The man smiled unpleasantly. He reached over the counter to grab the box.
Li Jin made a decision. It wasn't a choice dictated by the Tiger. It wasn't a calculation. It was a certainty, born from his months of training. It was the right thing to do.
He placed his hand on the man's arm. Just a light pressure.
The man turned, surprised. "What the—"
"That item is not yours," Li Jin said, his voice perfectly calm.
The man burst out laughing. He looked at his companion. "The little monk has courage." He tried to pull his arm away, but it didn't budge. Li Jin's hand, though seemingly relaxed, felt as if it were welded to his skin.
The man's smile vanished. He scowled and pulled harder. Nothing. It was like trying to tear a root from a mountain. There was no brute strength in Li Jin's grip, just an immovable weight. Li Jin had become the rock.
"Let go of me," the man growled, his free hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
Li Jin didn't reply. He didn't even look at him. He looked at the frightened apothecary. Then he did something the Grand Master had taught him. He didn't use his Qi. He projected a simple intention. A whisper.
A sudden, inexplicable draft swept through the shop. It rattled the shutters and sent the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling into a dance. The lantern flames flickered.
The two men froze, bewildered. They didn't understand what had just happened, but they felt a sudden chill, a change in the atmosphere. They looked at Li Jin. The young man in the simple robe suddenly seemed taller, more imposing. His calm eyes made them uneasy.
Li Jin released his grip. The man stumbled back a step, rubbing his arm. Fear had replaced the anger in his eyes. He shot one last look at Li Jin, then at his partner. Without a word, they turned and hurriedly left the shop.
Silence returned. The apothecary was staring at Li Jin with wide, astonished eyes. He looked from the jade box to the young man.
"How did you do that?"
"I did nothing," Li Jin replied. "They chose to leave."
The old man was quiet for a long moment, his mind working. He looked again at the list, then at Li Jin's purse, then at the young man's face.
"The School of the Jade Tiger," he murmured, as if he had just understood something. "You are not like the others." He sighed. "Lord Xiao will make trouble for me. But you protected my shop. And my honor. A debt must be paid."
He turned and began gathering the ingredients from the list. He took the Celestial Snow Flower. He added a piece of ginseng root that looked as old as the world itself. He wrapped them carefully.
"Take them," he said, pushing the package toward Li Jin. "And take your money. Consider this payment for your services. Now go. And try not to get yourself killed before you leave the city. Lord Xiao's men are not the sort to forget a slight."
Li Jin bowed deeply, his heart filled with an immense gratitude. He had the herbs. He had not stolen. He had not yielded to the Tiger. He had used his strength to protect, not to destroy.
As he left the shop, the precious herbs clutched to his chest, he felt the Breath of the World swirl around him, not as a threat, but as a silent approval.
But the old man was right. From the shadows of a nearby alley, two pairs of eyes watched him go. And the hatred in them was a promise of violence to come.