Life is a dance of light. We can see plants drink water and turn to drink the light. While all humanity needs the light to eat, to work, and to fight back the night. The kingdom of heaven gifted all life with ki, the dantians to transform ki to chi, and the forms needed to pull chi through and out of the body. Tension, Release, and the Balance between is the call of every soul to the Kingdom of Heaven.

  ~From writings of an unnamed student of the Philosopher of Good.

  A tingling burn rippled through Xinyi’s body as Chi surged into her clenched muscles. The warmth pulsed, flowing through her limbs before stilling in her hands as she unclenched her hands, bringing currents of restoration. She moved through the Chen Style, flowed and halted, each stance a deliberate contrast of motion and stillness.

  The courtyard was quiet, save for the droning of neighborhood Cicadas in the afternoon heat and the faint pulsing hum of her Radiant Chi. Sunlight lightly painted golden streaks across the terracotta roof tiles. As she kept the tension in her hands and feet, spinning into a strike and holding the pose before releasing to flow seamlessly into the next sets.

  With a sharp inhale, she swept her arms toward the target, a bundle of dried leaves bound with twine, and clenched her fist, two fingers extended.

  Whamp!

  The leaves scattered, disintegrating into smoking embers. The tattered twine falling to the ground curling in like a recently extingiushed wick.

  A flicker of satisfaction swelled in her chest.

  She bowed, exhaling slowly.

  (Should I use fans? Or maybe ribbons? …No, ribbons will reveal flaws in the rests.)

  The scent of smoldering foliage lingered, mingling with the soft fragrance of jasmine and hibiscus that drifted from the Siheyuan courtyard garden.

  She scanned the walkway for more leaves to bundle with the remaining unburnt twine.

  (Is it good enough? I wish I had Light Weaving Chi already… or maybe I should have chosen Warding Chi instead. Then, I could win at the festival for sure. I could do the image reflection forms, and have a defense for Radiant Chi. But Gyam is so far away… It’s too much to ask of Baba and Mama.)

  She scoffed while tying another twine-wrapped bundle to the hook in front of the sand and water buckets next to her father's worn-smooth wooden dummy.

  (Like you could master one, let alone two new forms, without a tutor… How would you blend them with Chen Style anyway? Argh, I wish I could know everything!)

  Her fingers clenched around the twine with each leaf she grabbed. (But, Mama and Baba promised… We’re supposed to go on a trip to get a new Chi. But is the journey really worth the cost and time? Do I even deserve it?)

  She counted through the forms she had prepared in then counted the ones still needing work.

  She pictured the martial forms of different types of Chi users.

  Her thoughts drifted beyond the courtyard, beyond Guangzhou Village, past the borders of Huā Lù Kingdom, to distant worlds she only imagined. Worlds captured in ink and scribbles. She pictured the caricature drawings her father had brought home, portraits of people from beyond the world gates, their features strange, yet undeniably human.

  The Light Weaving Chi users of Hozho bore some resemblance to the people of Kas’Hao, yet their eyes, foreheads, and cheeks carried unfamiliar shapes and depths. Subtle differences that marked them as foreign, unlike anyone she had ever seen. The people of Gyam, as drawn, were even more distinct. Not copper or bronze toned like those of Kas’Hao or Hozho, but pale, like rice dusted with the barest hint of cinnamon and chili oil, or the pink of a cherry blossom just beginning to fade to white.

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  (Mother said I must be flawless if I want the judges to notice me. And if I succeed, we’ll visit Gyam or Hozho. Will the Juniper shrine accept me? Will it truly bless me with more Chi?)

  A wave of sour nervousness bubbled within her. She clenched her teeth, exhaling deeply through her nose.

  She moved into the first stance, letting out a hē xiào, forcing the doubt from her body.

  She turned to face north, eyes locked on the bundle of leaves swaying from the twine.

  Chi tingled down her arm to pool in her fingertips. She nodded, “I will be perfect at this before the festival… before I humiliate myself in front of the judges and the community.”

  Her stomach gurgled from the lingering fullness. (One more time. Stronger this time.)

  She raised her hands, Chi coursing through her, pooling in her cramping fingers.

  She held her breath, tension coiling, ready to strike—

  “Xinyi! Did you hear? The Kingdom of Miezaru Hi locked their world gate! All the trade routes are blocked! Maybe we won’t get to go on the ship Baba and Mama promised!”

  Hao’s excited voice burst into the courtyard.

  Xinyi jolted. “Hao!” Xinyi whipped her head toward him.

  Chi broke free from her fingers, wildly as her arm shifted.

  Flash!

  Whamp!

  The blast cratered the stone wall, cracks spiderwebbing outward, roof tiles shattered, debris rained down. Scorch marks blackened the carved beams and stone.

  But worst of all…

  The blast struck their father’s wooden training dummy.

  The upper half exploded into smoking splinters.

  Xinyi gasped, the dazzling afterimage of her uncontrolled Chi that dipped into visible Radiance flickered in her vision.

  A massive mistake. A Chi deviation-level mistake.

  A slow sizzle, followed by a sharp crack. The smoking dummy caught fire.

  She bit her lip, fear and anger washed over her.

  Hao tilted his head in that stupid bird-like way, then glanced at her. He rubbed his thumbs over his fingertips, his nervous tick. “Baba, won’t like that.”

  “You think!” Xinyi’s stomach sank the digesting food congealing. “Hao! Why did you…” She snapped her mouth shut, pressing her palms to her temples. (It wasn’t his fault.)

  A charred striking post fell from the dummy, rolling towards Hao.

  He poked with his shoes before picking it up, running his fingers along the blackened edges. “Do you think this wood was already stressed? See, the grain is uneven here.” He traced the cracks with near-reverence, his eyes gleaming with curiosity instead of concern.

  Xinyi groaned, rushing to the buckets. She grabbed the nearest pail and poured water slowly over the dummy smoldering remains. “Hao, you can’t just yell like that when I’m practicing forms and Chi channeling! I…” She gestured wildly at the scorched wall, and dummy debris. “Look what happened!”

  Hao paused, tapping his fingers against the broken post. One, two, three. Before looking up. “But it’s important.”

  Xinyi sighed, frustration warring with guilt. “What is?”

  He adjusted his grip on the uncharred end, in an overly serious imitation of Baba’s tone. “Miezaru Hi locked the gate! No trade, no ships, no new Chi! Not even beaver pelts or that big grain Baba likes.”

  Xinyi blinked, her frustration faltering. (That… actually is important. Argh, Baba’s going to kill me.)

  She rubbed her forehead, her mind scrambling for a solution.

  Hao tilted his head. “If you had Warding Chi, do you think the dummy would’ve been protected? Like if we embedded a Chi Beast crystal full of Warding Chi?”

  Xinyi exhaled, “Possibly… but it would need command words. What are we talking about? We need to clean this up!”

  He nodded, setting the broken post down with careful precision. “I think I like Warding Chi. I will be a warding master.”

  Xinyi rubbed her face. “You? A warding master? What happened to wanting to be a healer?”

  Hao grinned. “You don’t need healing if you aren’t hurt.”

  Xinyi stared at him. Snorting despite herself. (Of course, he wants that. Bet he’ll try for both.)