“You’re able to see the ambient qi now,” Akira said on the morning of their sixth day of training.

  She and Ishin were sitting beside a small fire, sharing a simple breakfast of jerky. Akira had risen early to build the fire, determined to bring some warmth and light to their makeshift shelter. Outside, the storm raged on without pause. Once a source of annoyance, Ishin now saw the storm for what it truly was—a massive, overflowing reservoir of qi. All of it waiting for me to claim.

  “Today,” Akira said, “you’ll learn how to cultivate it.”

  Ishin swallowed a piece of the tough jerky. He was growing sick of its bland, leathery taste. “How do I do that?”

  “You’ll use your spirit to draw ambient qi into your chakra. That’s cultivation. Now that your chakra has formed, you’re finally able to do it. But you’ll find it impossible to cultivate multiple types of qi at once. Your spirit will need to focus on one. And each type of qi is unique—requiring a different method of cultivation.”

  “A different method?”

  Akira nodded. “When you looked at them with your third eye these past few days, did you notice how they all behaved differently?”

  He had. “Yes. The brown qi around my feet felt thick and stable, while the white wispy type floated like a cloud.” As he said it aloud, a realization clicked. “Those are earth and wind qi, aren’t they?”

  Akira smiled at him. “They are. Each type of qi will appear distinct. Some may share similar colors, but their innate forms will always differ. I take it you saw the two blue types as well?”

  “I did. One flickered and was a lighter shade. That’s lightning qi, right?” And by process of elimination, the other—smoother, more wave-like—must have been water. “The other’s water?”

  “You’re picking it up quickly. That’s exactly right. Ice qi will appear similar too, but you won’t see much of it around here. Like all qi types, it can be found anywhere, just in varying concentrations.”

  Ishin opened his third eye briefly. “Like the other swirls of color I can still see all around us?” There were dozens—maybe hundreds—of faint, shifting strands of every imaginable hue, far less concentrated than the dominant ones. Still, they filled the shelter, forming a quiet storm of their own.

  “Exactly,” Akira confirmed. “A cultivator with the right technique and sufficient skill can still make progress, even in an unideal environment. But progress comes faster where there’s an abundance of the right element. That’s why so many new cultivators pick one of the eight primary qi types for their first chakra.”

  Of course it is. That was part of why Ishin still felt bitter about being forced to cultivate lightning. But the Heavens didn’t care for the desires of mortals.

  “But we can’t do that,” he said.

  “No,” Akira admitted. “At least not for our first chakra.”

  At least there was that. If he had to rely on lightning alone for the rest of his life, his Immortal Path would be a cursed one. But he knew his mother cultivated wind too. That gave him hope. Glancing outside at the crackling skies, Ishin found himself grateful the storm hadn’t yet passed. He needed every second it lasted. Three years—almost four—was a massive delay. I need to catch up.

  Ishin’s brow furrowed. “Mother…”

  “Hmm?” Akira asked, sipping from her waterskin.

  “I saw a type of purple qi too. It behaved differently. Only showed up now and then. What was it?”

  Akira lowered her waterskin. “Do you have a guess?”

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  Ishin considered their surroundings. The hill, the wind, the vegetation. Could it be wood qi? No—he’d seen green tendrils mixed with the earth qi. That had to be wood. And it wasn’t light qi either—he knew that was a vibrant yellow. That ruled out the rest of the primary eight. “Does cloud qi exist?”

  “You’re close. There’s no such thing as cloud qi—but there is thunder qi.”

  Thunder qi? Now that she said it, the behavior of that purple energy had echoed the rhythm of thunder. And it would make sense for it to be present during a storm.

  Interesting.

  He imagined a future where he cultivated both lightning and thunder. I’d be a living storm. The idea brought a grin to his face. Stories would be told about a cultivator who roared like the heavens and struck like judgment. But the fantasy faded just as quickly. If I go that route, I’ll be stuck chasing storms forever. I need something more common when I reach the adept realm.

  Wind came to mind again—versatile, familiar, and respected. But… it’s Mother's path. His first chakra was one thing—many families shared that—but he didn’t want to follow in her shadow completely. He wanted to blaze his own trail.

  I can decide later. When I’m near the adept realm.

  Thinking of Akira brought back another curiosity. Yesterday, during his third eye test, he had looked at her—but seen no chakra. And according to everything he’d learned, a cultivator should be able to see another’s cultivation once their third eye had opened.

  He looked at her again, quietly using his third eye.

  Still nothing.

  “Mother, is there a reason I can’t see your cultivation?”

  Akira gave him a knowing smile. “Trying to assess my strength?”

  Ishin flushed and looked away. “I was just curious about your chakra aspects. I’m sorry.”

  He was curious. Akira was one of the strongest in the Daihu Tribe, yet she never said exactly how strong. And until now, he hadn’t had the ability—or courage—to ask.

  Akira laughed, light and warm. “It’s alright, dear. Most cultivators do the same. It helps to know how to behave when you meet someone new.” She gave him a teasing glance. “I’ve just been suppressing my cultivation in case you tried.”

  “You have? Why?”

  She rubbed at one eye. “Might as well get this over with.”

  Suddenly, pressure filled the shelter—not heavy or painful, but undeniable, like humidity pressing against his spirit. And he hadn’t even activated his third eye yet.

  “Go on. Take a look now.”

  Ishin obeyed—and was immediately overwhelmed.

  Three radiant lights pulsed from Akira. Her qi shone so brightly it drowned out the ambient strands in the shelter. One was light blue, like his own. Another was silky white—wind qi. The third shimmered in silver. Metal qi? He wasn’t certain.

  He couldn’t bear the sight for long. Ishin closed his third eye and gasped for breath. “Incredible…” Why… can’t I breathe?

  “You’re at the Merit Realm,” he panted.

  “I am.” The pressure faded as she concealed her cultivation once more. “And now you understand the risk of looking at someone far above your realm. Had you looked at an Adept Realm cultivator, it wouldn’t have been as overwhelming.”

  Ishin nodded. “I couldn’t even tell how many layers each of your chakras had.”

  “It’s hard to judge the layers of someone stronger than you,” Akira agreed. “But you don’t need to worry about that yet. Instead”—she pointed at where Ishin’s chakra lay—“we need to focus on your cultivation.”

  “Right.” Ishin straightened his back. “You said each qi needs its own cultivation method.”

  “Correct. And not all techniques are created equal. Two lightning cultivators could spend the same amount of time cultivating, but if they use different methods, their results will be very different.”

  “But why?” That doesn’t make sense. Isn’t it the same qi being absorbed?

  Akira raised two fingers. “Think of it like filling a tub from a lake. One person has a bucket. The other has a spoon. The one with the bucket finishes faster.”

  Ah. “So I want to use a technique more like a bucket. What do I do?”

  Akira’s smile grew. “Fortunately, my son, you’ve already been practicing it for years.”

  Ishin blinked. “What?”

  She grinned. “You remember the Silent Storm breathing technique, don’t you?”