Chapter 3: Cultivation and Training

  Damon opened his eyes and found that his surroundings had returned to those of the cave. He could still hear the name Silas Aldewyn echoing softly in the recesses of his mind. He shook his head to try and clear the resounding name while musing on the old man’s words.

  “I still don’t understand what all that was… But I got one thing. This cultivation thing… Will give me power.” Damon looked down at the book he still held in his hands. Upon seeing the foreign text, a searing heat pulsated on his forehead, and he could read it without a problem. He rubbed his forehead, and then the pain disappeared. With a frown, he focused on the book.

  “Mindspire Tempering Sutra… That old ghost mentioned something about this… What about the rest of the book?” Damon subconsciously muttered in the same foreign language as he read the text.

  “I’m not a ghost. I’m an illusion that’s tied to the remnant mental power that is now imprinted into your mind.”

  “Argh!” Damon screamed when he heard a voice ring out beside him. To his right, Silas was floating in mid-air, looking at him with a small smile and his hands behind his back.

  “Did I startle you, little boy?” Silas chuckled as he observed the young boy scramble backward while screaming.

  “You! How are you here? You ARE a ghost, aren’t you? Can you find my parents?”

  Damon's frantic breathing quickly slowed, and he glared at the floating Silas. With his hand outstretched, he tried to poke the grandpa with his finger. It went straight through him.

  “That’s enough. I’m not a ghost, I’m closer to an illusion that only you can see. Until the power remaining in that mental rune runs out, I’ll be able to guide you in your cultivation. By the way, what is your name, boy?” Silas drifted further away, slowly flying through the room while glancing around.

  “Uhhh… I’m Damon Fletcher.” Damon scratched his head and watched Silas roaming around.

  “Don’t mind me, I just haven’t been able to exit that book in countless years. Now, get back to reading. I’m going to explore the surroundings.” Silas sped up as he flew toward the illusory wall Damon had entered through, before disappearing through it.

  Rubbing his eyes, Damon wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if he had actually gone crazy. He still didn’t understand many of the things the grandpa was saying, but the book in his hand was definitely real. He sat down cross-legged and continued reading, skimming through the pages.

  “Within the silent chamber of my mind, I observe the first strand of thought arise… Before it can take a form, I release it, and it falls back into the formless… Let no ripple of fear, desire, or memory disturb the sea of my consciousness…”

  “… Each breath is the foundation, each heartbeat constructs the frame… The formless gains essence, completing the inner halls of my thoughts… I walk the inner halls with steady steps, and return with a mind unclouded.” Damon let out a breath of stale air as he finished the last passage. Before he knew it, over an hour had passed.

  “How many passages was that? What the heck? How am I supposed to read this every day, much less remember it?” Flabbergasted by the thought of memorizing the sutra, Damon began cursing out loud. It was followed by a pout and his shoulders drooping. It seemed like there was little chance of him achieving any grand feats using this mystical scripture.

  Silas materialized in front of him once more, eliciting the same reaction from Damon as earlier. This time, he had even bumped his head against the wall in his hurried scrambling, now squatting at the edge of the cave and rubbing his head with his hand.

  “This sutra must be recited once daily. This sutra will allow you to gather strands of mental energy from the environment to enhance your cultivation. When enough strands have been gathered, they will automatically be drawn into the inactive Mind Node and awaken it.”

  Massaging the lump forming on his head, Damon looked up with watery eyes. Can’t this Grandpa stop appearing so suddenly? I bet he’s doing it on purpose to make fun of me!

  After a moment of thought, Damon asked, “If I do what you say, will I be able to fly through the skies and grab such power with my own hands?”

  “Yes, child. I will assist you until the day my existence fades away. The Sutra I developed will help you become stronger than your peers. Remember the following principle. Pain is the chisel, Will is the hammer, Mind is the stone. Using the mental energy strands, you will create the form of a spike. Use this spike to impale the barrier around the Mind Node, tempering it into a powerful weapon. That is the entire premise of my cultivation art.”

  Ears twitching, Damon listened with rapt focus. His gaze was fixated on the Grandpa in front of him. He nodded his head in understanding, even though his eyes were slightly glazed over. His brows furrowed slightly, as his head throbbed from the weight of the unfamiliar terms. He managed to filter out just what he needed. He definitely said I’ll become stronger than my peers.

  “Awakening the Mind Node is the first step into mind cultivation. The node will begin to passively absorb mental energy from the atmosphere and convert it to mental power for your use. Once you reach this point, you will have entered the early stage of the Node Awakening realm. It is advised you do not read further than your current cultivation stage, as more information will only dampen your determination and shroud your mind in doubt.“

  Stopping his explanation, Silas closely observed Damon. He was sitting cross-legged again, his eyes closed in deep contemplation. Nodding with a small smile, Silas thought that he had actually found a decent apprentice.

  Meanwhile, Damon’s mind churned with the old man’s words. Soon, he opened his eyes and picked up the book again. “So I just have to recite this Sutra, right?”

  “Yes. That’s it. Do you want to give it a try now?”

  Leaning forward, Damon flipped back to the first page of the book. Chanting in a slow yet steady rhythm, he began reading the Sutra. As he approached the end of the chanting cycle, threads of mental energy formed around him. One… Two… Three… Five… Seven…

  At this point, Silas pointed at Damon, and a rune lit up on his forehead. It emanated a light that covered all the surrounding strands of energy. The strands fused into one and formed an almost transparent spike.

  Damon finished uttering the last sentence of the sutra and raised his eyes from the book lying in his lap. Slightly frowning, he looked at Silas and asked, “Is it because it was the first time? Or is it because I had to read the sutra from the book instead of memory? I didn’t feel anything happening…”

  He stopped talking when his gaze landed on a slight distortion in the space in front of his eyes. Just as he tried to get a better look at it, the spike plunged point-first into his forehead.

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  “Argh!” His jaw locked as a loud hiss squeezed its way out from between his clenched teeth. He fell to the ground and started writhing around in pain.

  A pain more intense than anything he had ever felt erupted from his mind. It felt like a flaming arrow stabbing into his head. After what seemed like years, the pain finally subsided slightly. His vision was blurry due to the tears filling his eyes, and his mouth felt completely dry as though he had not drunk water in days. Grimacing in pain, he took heavy breaths of air, which didn’t help with his raw throat. His hands clambered along the ground, searching for anything that might help quench his thirst and soothe the pain in his head. He soon found the pool of opalescent liquid right next to him.

  He crawled over to the edge of the pool before dipping his finger in the liquid. Sensing nothing wrong, he brought his finger in front of his mouth and tentatively licked it. Though there were only a few drops of this dew on his finger, it felt as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed onto his burning head. He quickly cupped his hands and drank multiple mouthfuls of the shimmering white water. The pain lessened, though a dull ache remained, and his parched throat was soothed.

  Damon lay by the edge of the pool, covered in sweat from head to toe, gasping for breath. The majority of the searing pain was gone, but the world was still spinning in the darkness of his own mind. Opening his eyes caused the pain to intensify, as though he were allergic to light itself. The aftereffect of the dew continued to slowly relieve him of his suffering. After a long while, the pain turned into minor discomfort, and he managed to sit up against the rock wall.

  His sweaty face became rigid. His entire body trembled as he recalled what had caused the agony he had just suffered.

  “The Mindspire Tempering Sutra. So this cultivation thing is real… Does it mean I need to go through this again to gain power?”

  With his brows furrowed, Damon glared at the silent Silas. He shuddered at the thought of experiencing such torture again and again.

  “Do you believe strength is easy to obtain? Do you think you can accomplish anything with such a weak will? If this small bit of pain is enough to cower you, you are undeserving of my Sutra.” Silas’s usually genial tone turned brash as he spat out these words. “Without the determination to grit your teeth and forge your way through all trials, you will not last long in the cultivation world. Now, begone. I don’t want you in my sight any longer.”

  Silas looked away from Damon and turned around. His body broke apart into numerous motes of light and disappeared into the air.

  Still leaning against the wall, Damon glanced down at his shaky hands. Soft, pale skin without a callous in sight. The trembling stopped. He clenched them into fists as his eyes blazed with a fire he had never felt before. It was stoked stronger by a strange sensation that circulated in his head. Is this the mental power the Grandpa mentioned?

  Damon thought of the words spoken by the village boys earlier that day. He had proved it. He wasn’t crazy. He was special.

  His thoughts were dominated by one image. It was a pair of lips. Dry and cracked. A splash of blood. Framed by a thick beard. The corners extended into a grin, revealing the black, crooked teeth within. It was the very smile that had haunted his nightmares ever since that horrible day. The pain he had just felt was nothing compared to helplessly watching his loved ones die.

  Audible thumps rang out as his heart beat heavily against his chest. He took a deep breath, holding it in until his twitching muscles relaxed. Exhaling, he thought to himself. I must cultivate. No matter what.

  After that, Damon ran back down to his home to rest. Thankfully, the villagers had fixed his house during the three months he had been wallowing in depression. They also provided him with the food he required to survive. But he couldn’t keep relying on their assistance. To become strong, he had to rely on himself.

  The first thing he did the next morning was visit the village Chief. He asked him for chores to do in return for food and other supplies. Though the Chief tried to reject his request, Damon refused to budge. He even threatened to not accept anything unless they gave him chores. The Chief had no other option but to accept. The chores were to collect firewood and water for the villagers.

  After settling his source of supplies, Damon hurried back up to the hidden cave. He recited the Sutra once more. A strange energy entered his mind through his head, in the form of thin threads. It gathered in a spot just behind the middle of his forehead.

  The Grandpa called this the Mind Node. The energy contained within was called mental power.

  He tried reading the sutra once more; however, it did not provide any additional benefits.

  Ah, so this is why it’s only done once daily. Then I’ll have to use the other method.

  Damon focused on the almost liquid energy swirling around in his mind. He directed his mental power out of his head and compressed it into a spike. It failed. It refused to move the way he wanted, as though he was moulding a shape out of water. However, he refused to give up. He tried again and again, until he finally made a small spike after over 40 attempts.

  After a round of mind spike tempering followed by a similar scene to the previous night, he walked out of the cave while massaging his temples. Just gathering this special power wasn’t enough. It was time to train using his thoughts to control objects.

  He placed a stone atop the same boulder as the previous day and attempted to move it with his new power. Sweat flowed down his spine, soaking through his tunic. His veins bulged on his neck, his face turning purple. Yet, the stone still did not budge, no matter how hard he tried. I’m directing my mental power at it… But it still won’t move! Did I fall and hit my head, and this is all just my imagination? Was the pain from those spikes just brain damage?

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He refused to believe it. He was unwilling to accept it. If his thoughts still needed more time to grow, he would instead focus on his body.

  From that day, aside from his daily recitation of the Sutra and mind spike tempering, Damon ran up and down the mountain until he couldn’t stand any longer to gain endurance. He lifted large stones above his head until his shaky arms gave out and fletched arrows until his fingers bled. Pulling and releasing the bowstring of his father’s bow until his left arm became black and blue to learn archery and train for accuracy. As he experienced more pain, yet continued to persevere through it with sheer will, his mind grew stronger as well.

  During this time, Damon had forgotten about Silas due to his intense training. But Silas had not forgotten about him. Silas quietly observed from within Damon’s mind. His lips parted into a large grin as he witnessed the scenes. Doing chores instead of taking the offered food. Torturing his body through rigorous exercise and persistent effort. However, he did not show himself. It wasn’t time yet. It was better to let the boy maintain his current schedule.

  Several weeks later, Damon trudged through the village with heavy steps, pulling a crude wooden frame filled with branches behind him. Ignoring the pointed stares and whispering villagers, he pushed through until he finally arrived at the village Chief’s residence, located at the end of the main road. He unloaded the branches under an awning in the backyard of the house. As he did so, he heard some muffled shouting from within. Curious, he crept closer to a window and listened carefully.

  “How can you say that with such a calm look on your face?” A woman shouted, her voice cracking.

  “The only thing I can do is relay the information. What else would you have me do?” A man replied in a flat tone.

  “Enough! We should be thanking Peter for even bringing us the news.” The Chief intervened between the two. “Peter, are you certain this news is true?”

  “I swear on my life that what I said isn’t false. I was gathering herbs on Shadefall Mountain when a large group of people suddenly appeared. I hid up a tree, and watched as they passed by. They were definitely the bandits that attacked your village. They were even gloating about it.” Peter paused to take a quick sip of water. “They were discussing settling down atop the mountain and which village they would attack next. One of the things they mentioned was coming back to Pinemist Village. Something about an eye for an eye. They said they have unfinished business here.”

  The room fell silent. Only the sound of pacing and heavy breathing could be heard. After a couple of minutes, the Chief opened his mouth. “Did they say when they would be attacking?”

  “No, they didn’t specify a time. I only heard snippets of their conversation as they passed by my hiding spot. That’s all the information I have. I already warned Green Toad village, but I need to spread the news to every other village as well. Thanks for the water, but I’ll be taking my leave now.”

  Peter left the house in a hurry, seen out by the Chief and several other villagers. They quickly gathered in the room again, discussing their plans. Damon was still hiding below the window, his eyes wide as he panted. His knuckles had turned white from clenching his fists too tightly. Gnashing his teeth, he grabbed the empty wooden frame and sprinted back toward his house.

  They’re coming back. Unfinished business? It must be about the bandit I killed. But that’s actually a good thing. They’re not running away. I’ll show them an eye for an eye.

  Damon in action!

  Damon’s story!