At seven years old, Cai Feiyin stood at the threshold of something new.
He was no longer the small, wide-eyed toddler who had struggled to form words and understand the vastness of the world. In the past four years, he had grown, not only in body, but in mind and spirit.
His long obsidian black hair cascaded down his back, occasionally tied in a loose ponytail by his mother to keep it from falling over his face. His gray eyes, speckled with amethyst, carried a quiet depth far beyond his age. And unlike most children, his height and physique were more developed, thanks to his father's training and proper nutrition. Though still a child, there was strength in his frame, a hint of the foundation being built.
The morning light filtered through the trees, casting long golden streaks across the dirt path leading toward the village training grounds. A familiar rhythm pulsed in the air, the sound of wood striking wood, of gruff voices barking orders, of footsteps shuffling against the ground in disciplined formations. His father's voice, steady and firm, cut through the atmosphere, commanding the village militia as they sparred in preparation for whatever dangers might one day come.
Cai Feng was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened.
And today, Feiyin would finally stand before him, ready for his own training to begin.
The realization sent a shiver through him, but it was not fear, it was anticipation.
Four years had passed since he first began learning, training, growing. The world had revealed itself in ways he had never imagined. He kept his studies and practices, but music had been the thread that tied everything together.
It had started as curiosity, a fascination sparked by his mother's guqin. But as time passed, it had become so much more.
In the evenings, after lessons and training were done, Feiyin would sit by the guqin, plucking at the strings, feeling the way each note rippled into the space around him.
He had learned the weight of silence, the power of a single note, the way sound carried intent just as much as words did.
He had learned to feel sound, not just to play, but to understand the way notes shaped emotions, how melodies could mirror the world around him.
His mother had taught him how to let the music breathe, how to listen before creating, how to let sound tell the story instead of forcing it.
And now, he was finally ready for his next chapter.
Cai Feng led Feiyin to the wide training field just behind their home. The area was simple, packed dirt, a few wooden posts for training, and a small open-air shed where supplies were stored.
His father turned, crossing his arms.
"Before we begin, you need to understand something," he said. "Training is not about breaking your body. It's about forging it. There is a difference."
Feiyin nodded, listening intently.
"Many think strength comes from pushing to the limit every day, from exhausting yourself until you collapse. That's foolish. A body trained improperly is a body ruined. Overexertion without rest leads to injury. Poor nutrition leads to stagnation. Training without balance leads to weakness disguised as strength."
Feiyin absorbed his father's words, his brows furrowing slightly.
"Then how should I train?"
"With discipline, not recklessness."
Cai Feng gestured toward a wooden bench where a prepared meal waited, a bowl of porridge mixed with medicinal herbs, a serving of dried meat, and a small flask of warm tea.
"You will eat before training, and you will rest when necessary. After each session, we will stretch and massage the muscles, reinforcing the body rather than wearing it down." His eyes locked onto Feiyin's. "A warrior who destroys his body before battle is a fool. A warrior who forges it properly is unstoppable."
Feiyin clenched his fists, determination flaring in his chest.
"I understand."
His father smirked. "Good. Then let's begin."
"Today, we train muscles and tendons, the foundation of movement," Cai Feng said as he stepped forward. "And for that, we will use the Python Postures."
Feiyin had heard of the technique before. Pythons were not the fastest creatures, nor the most visibly powerful, but their true strength lay in their coils, in their ability to store force and release it in a single, explosive strike.
Cai Feng shifted into a stance, lowering his body into a deep squat, his knees bent, his spine curved, his arms positioned as if preparing to lunge. His entire body looked coiled, tense, yet eerily controlled.
"This is the Coiled Python Stance," he said. "It forces the tendons and muscles to work together, to store power instead of wasting it. This is how you learn to generate explosive movement."
Feiyin focused, watching not just with his eyes, but with his perception. He could see the way his father's muscles oscillated, how the tension rippled through his frame, converging into his legs before being held in place like a drawn bowstring.
Then, in a flash, Cai Feng released.
His body shot forward like an arrow, his feet barely making a sound as he landed a few meters away, completely in control.
Feiyin's breath hitched. It was perfectly efficient movement.
"Your turn," Cai Feng said.
Feiyin stepped forward, lowering himself into the same stance. Immediately, he felt the strain.
His legs burned, his tendons ached, his back felt tight. The posture was unnatural, his body instinctively wanted to relax instead of maintain tension.
"Hold it," his father instructed.
Seconds passed. Then a full minute. Feiyin's legs trembled, his calves twitching. His arms felt stiff, his back cramped.
The oscillations around him seemed erratic, his own body's rhythm struggling to match what he had seen.
"Do not fight against the strain. Feel it. Accept it. Your body is learning."
Feiyin grit his teeth, forcing himself to endure.
"Now, release."
He tried. He truly did.
But instead of a fluid launch, his movement was awkward, he lost control of the stored tension, stumbling forward and collapsing onto the ground.
Cai Feng sighed, walking over.
"You're wasting energy. You must guide the stored force, not just unleash it blindly." He crouched beside Feiyin, pressing a firm hand to his lower back. "Feel it again. Your strength is here."
Feiyin nodded, pushing himself up.
"Again," Cai Feng commanded.
The morning sun climbed higher as Feiyin repeated the stance over and over.
Each time, he felt his control improve, his tendons adapting, his muscles adjusting. His oscillation perception allowed him to see the imperfections in his movement, to study where his body lost energy.
By midday, he was still far from perfect, but the change was undeniable.
When he finally collapsed onto his knees, breath heaving, his father called for a break.
Feiyin sat beneath the shade of a tree, drinking warm herbal tea as his father massaged his legs, working through the stiffness in his tendons.
"You did well," Cai Feng said, his tone softer than usual.
Feiyin looked up at him. "Really?"
His father smirked. "For your first day? Yes. But don't get arrogant. Tomorrow, we do it again."
Feiyin grinned despite the ache in his muscles.
The following morning, Feiyin sat cross-legged before his father, his body still aching from yesterday's training. His muscles pulsed with a dull soreness, yet his mind was sharper than ever, his excitement tempered only by the steady rhythm of his breath. He knew that today was not about physical exertion, it was about understanding.
Cai Feng stood before him, arms crossed, his gaze steady. "Yesterday, you trained your muscles and tendons. You felt the pain, the tension, the resistance of your own body. But that was only a small part of the greater whole. Before you can forge yourself into something greater, you must first understand what it means to temper the body."
Feiyin nodded, absorbing each word. He had already seen glimpses of this truth in his training. Strength was not just about force, it was about balance.
"The body," Cai Feng continued, "is not something that grows stronger in a single path. Many fools believe there is a fixed progression, that you must first refine your skin, then your muscles, then your bones, and so on. But that is a lie. In reality, each aspect of the body can be trained separately or together. The strongest warriors refine them all, yet most never even realize they have the choice."
Feiyin furrowed his brows. "Then why do people believe in a fixed order?"
"Because they do not understand how the body truly works," Cai Feng said simply. "They do not see the connections, the way each part strengthens the other. Tell me, which is more important, the skin that protects, or the blood that nourishes? The muscles that give power, or the bones that bear the weight? The answer is all of them. Each one relies on the other, forming an intricate web of balance."
Feiyin sat in deep thought, his perception of the body shifting.
"The five aspects of Body Tempering are Skin, Muscles and Tendons, Bones, Marrow, and Blood. Each of these is governed by an element, and each element is connected to one of the five internal organs. That is why true body tempering does not just grant strength, it enhances the five senses as well. A properly tempered body is not just strong, but perceptive."
He paused, letting Feiyin process. "I will explain."
Cai Feng took a step forward, his voice steady. "First, Skin, governed by Earth. This is the body's outermost layer, the first line of defense. It must be tempered to withstand force, endure extreme conditions, and prevent energy leakage. If your skin is weak, you will bleed, bruise, and tear under pressure. But a well-tempered skin is like iron, able to take and disperse blows without breaking."
Feiyin nodded. He had seen how his father's skin never bruised, even after harsh training.
"Earth is stability, and it is tied to the spleen, which controls balance in the body. A strong spleen ensures resilience, which is why warriors with tempered skin have enhanced Touch, they can feel shifts in the wind, subtle vibrations in the ground, the faintest tremors of movement. A properly trained warrior can sense an attack coming before it arrives."
Feiyin's mind raced. His ability to see oscillations was already strong, would refining his skin allow him to feel them even more clearly?
Cai Feng continued. "Next, Muscles and Tendons, governed by Wood. Muscles give strength, but without tendons, they are useless. Tendons connect, anchor, and allow the body to move without tearing itself apart. That is why they must be strong and flexible, capable of storing and releasing power instantly."
Feiyin recalled the Python Postures, how he had strained to hold his stance, how his tendons had screamed in resistance. This was why.
"Wood represents growth and adaptability, and it is tied to the liver, which regulates movement and vitality. This is why those who refine their muscles and tendons also enhance Sight, a warrior must track movement, perceive shifts in an opponent's posture, and react before the strike lands. If your body moves well but your eyes are slow, you will still lose."
Feiyin's thoughts deepened. His perception of oscillations already gave him an edge in understanding movement, how much further could he take it if he strengthened both his body and his eyes?
"Now, Bones, governed by Metal. Bones are the body's foundation. If they are weak, no amount of muscle will save you. A warrior with weak bones will crumble under his own strength."
Feiyin thought of how his father's strikes shattered wood and stone. It wasn't just muscle power, his bones carried that strength.
"Metal is unyielding, and it is tied to the lungs, which regulate breath and internal stability. A warrior with strong bones also develops a heightened Sense of Smell, instinct, awareness of surroundings, detecting subtle changes in the air. A well-trained warrior can smell blood before it is shed, can sense an enemy's intent before they even strike."
The connections were forming clearly in Feiyin's mind. Breath control, durability, and instinct, all rooted in bone refinement.
Cai Feng's voice carried on. "Fourth, Marrow, governed by Water. If bones are the structure, marrow is what keeps them alive. Marrow produces blood, carrying energy and vitality through the body. A warrior with weak marrow will suffer from exhaustion, no matter how strong they appear."
Feiyin exhaled. He had felt it already, the limits of his endurance, how fatigue would set in faster than pain.
"Water is nourishment and circulation, and it is tied to the kidneys, which govern longevity. A warrior with strong marrow develops Hearing beyond ordinary limits. The world is never truly silent, there is always motion, always sound. Those who refine their marrow can hear the slightest breath, the faintest heartbeat, the subtlest shift of an opponent's stance."
Feiyin's heart pounded. This was why his father could react so quickly, why nothing ever caught him off guard.
"And last," Cai Feng said, his gaze unwavering, "Blood, governed by Fire. The final stage. Blood is the essence of the body, the fuel for endurance and energy circulation. If your blood is weak, your power is fleeting. A true warrior can fight for days without tiring."
Feiyin listened, his body tingling with realization.
"Fire represents passion, adaptability, and vitality, and it is tied to the heart, which controls blood flow. Warriors who refine their blood develop an enhanced Sense of Taste, not simply for food, but for medicine, poisons, and energy purity. A master of Blood Tempering never consumes what he does not understand."
Feiyin sat in silence, his entire perception of cultivation reshaped.
Cai Feng allowed the weight of his words to settle before speaking again. "And this is why true training follows both paths, from inner to outer, and from outer to inner."
Feiyin looked up. "Because everything is connected."
His father smirked. "Exactly. If you train only your skin, but neglect your blood, you will be tough but weak. If you train your muscles but not your marrow, you will be strong but fragile. A warrior must be balanced, refined in every aspect."