“Yes, I do,” Ishin replied. He’d been using the meditation technique for years to clear his mind. “You’re telling me that it’s actually a cultivation technique?”

  “Of course it is. Why else would I have you practice it all this time?” Akira replied as though it were the most obvious fact in the world.

  “You could have told me,” Ishin countered.

  “I’m telling you now.” She waved him off impatiently. “Now hurry up and try it. Cross your legs, clear your mind, open your third eye, and try cultivating the lightning qi while maintaining the breathing rhythm. Time your attempts at cultivating the qi with your breathing.”

  Ishin moved to obey. Once his eyes were closed and his thoughts still, he opened his third eye. Finding the lightning qi was easy—it remained abundant with the storm still raging outside. Ishin matched his breathing to the Silent Storm technique: one sharp breath followed by three shallow ones, ending with two quick exhales. Once steady, he focused his spirit on the flickering qi, making his first attempt at cultivation.

  But lightning qi wasn’t as easy to focus on as he’d expected. Holding it with his spirit proved difficult, as the sporadic nature of the energy constantly slipped away from him. Only then did he understand the first phase of the Silent Storm—one sharp breath. It mimicked the quick spiritual reaction necessary to seize lightning qi before it dispersed.

  The second step was just as tricky. When he tried to pull the qi toward his chakra, he acted too quickly. The qi dispersed under the force of his sudden tug. Three shallow breaths... That must represent a gentle draw. Ishin realized he had to coax the lightning qi into place.

  He paused, considering the third phase: two quick exhales. That must be when I actually absorb the qi into my chakra. But why exhale? Exhaling would naturally relax his muscles—and, likely, his spirit as well. Maybe relaxation is required for absorption.

  He extended his spirit again, determined to succeed. With a firm grasp on the technique, he caught the lightning qi and pulled it gently toward his chakra. As he entered the third phase and began exhaling, he willed the qi to enter his chakra.

  The moment the energy made contact, a sharp tingling sensation ran through his spirit. It felt like a jolt—a spiritual static shock. He managed to absorb half of it before the discomfort disrupted his focus, and the rest slipped away.

  Frustrated, Ishin tried again, bracing for the sting. This time, his spirit became too rigid, rejecting the energy entirely. I have to stay relaxed to cultivate... even when it hurts. He idly wondered if other types of qi were as frustrating. There has to be something worse than lightning... right?

  Trying again, now fully understanding each phase of the Silent Storm technique, Ishin finally succeeded in cultivating lightning qi. The sense of accomplishment flooded him with joy. He continued cultivating, drawing in small strands of the glowing energy. Each time, he watched his chakra pulse brighter, its glow deepening, its density growing.

  Eventually, the strain of keeping his third eye open forced him to stop. When he opened his eyes, he realized his entire body was coated in sweat, his bedroll even damp beneath him.

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  “How was it?” Akira asked, still seated nearby.

  “It felt great,” Ishin said honestly. “It took a moment for me to sync my breathing with the cultivation, but now I get it.” Heavens, is this what all cultivators feel like?

  Akira stood and stretched. “Excellent. I’ll leave you to it, then. Continue as long as you can. I’m heading out to hunt for meat.”

  “You’re going to hunt Sun Tigers in the storm?”

  Grabbing her spear from where it leaned against the wall, Akira smirked. “It should make it more interesting. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

  Ishin wished her luck and quickly returned to cultivating.

  The next several hours passed in a rhythm of cultivation and rest. He could only maintain his third eye for about ten minutes at a time and required equal rest between sessions. By day’s end, he had improved his endurance to twelve minutes, though he was far more exhausted than he expected. Still, his chakra’s spiritual density had increased significantly.

  It makes sense, I started from nothing. Still… this progress feels good.

  He began wondering how long it would take to form the first layer around his chakra and reach the second layer. Most of his friends had taken about a year. Is there a way to do it faster?

  He reflected on the three major factors of cultivation: the amount of qi in the environment, the duration he could maintain his third eye, and the efficiency of his cultivation method.

  The first was his biggest advantage. The storm provided a seemingly endless supply of lightning qi.

  The second—how long he could hold his third eye open—was his greatest limitation. He didn’t know how long Guo Bin or Zhao Na could maintain theirs, but it was likely far longer. Over time, he could improve, but it would take effort and patience. Fortunately, he had no responsibilities here. No chores, no training, no distractions. Unlike Martial Hall disciples who only had an hour or two each day, Ishin had nothing but time.

  As for the technique itself… I don’t know how Silent Storm compares to others. But now that he’d grasped it, cultivation felt almost natural. Even the electric sting of lightning qi no longer surprised him. And surely his mother, the Daihu Tribe’s First Warrior, wouldn’t teach him anything subpar. That thought gave him confidence.

  When Akira returned, soaked from rain and blood, she carried the skinned body of a Sun Tiger cub. Even in the Merit Realm, she looked tired. Ishin was astonished she carried the thing—it had to weigh over two hundred pounds. When he asked why she skinned it outside, she replied simply that she didn’t want to leave a mess in their shelter.

  While Ishin resumed cultivating, Akira cut up the carcass and roasted the meat over the fire. The smell nearly derailed his focus.

  Almost.

  When the meat was finally ready, she handed him a thick slice of roasted thigh. After weeks of bland jerky, the savory flavor was like heaven. He devoured it with quiet appreciation.

  The next three days followed a steady routine. Ishin cultivated, pausing only for meals, while Akira finished preparing and storing the rest of the meat. She wrapped it in polanta leaves to preserve it and packed it into their bags. They both made use of the storm, maximizing their time.

  Ishin had grown so used to the rhythm that he was surprised when, on the morning of the fourth day, Akira told him to cultivate for only two hours.

  Curious, Ishin obeyed. Once finished, he waited eagerly for her to speak.

  Akira stood from her cross-legged position near the shelter entrance. She stretched her shoulders and twisted her long ponytail to wring out the collected rainwater. “Have you grown tired of cultivating yet?”

  “Not at all,” Ishin said, shaking his head. “I still have years I need to make up for. I can’t waste this storm.”

  “Good.” Akira touched her robes, and the remaining dampness evaporated in an instant. “But there’s more to being a cultivator than just cultivating.” She looked at him with a familiar gleam in her eye.

  Ishin’s heart quickened.

  “It’s time I teach you your first technique. And,” she added after a pause, “our bloodline’s signature technique.”