Can Love Endure?

  All of them knew what had changed.

  All of them were quietly adjusting—helping her mask what had become a constant thorn in her side.

  Scent.

  She held each of them for a moment before going on.

  Mireya wrapped her in a tight embrace. “We missed you.”

  Jianrong felt her chest fill, warm and aching.

  Daelyn caught her arm as she pulled back, firm enough to steady her, gentle enough to make Rong blink hard and wipe at her eyes.

  Alia stepped in last, smoothing Jianrong’s hair with practiced care and pressing a handkerchief into her hand.

  “Go,” Alia said softly. Certain. “She… they both will accept you.”

  Rong nodded and gave a slight bow before moving on alone.

  The older man who had dismissed Alia and her sister in a prior interaction stood nearby.

  As Jianrong passed, he turned his gaze on her—cold, assessing, lingering where it had no right to linger.

  He watched Alia and her sister leave, licking his lips, then gave a small smirk to Jianrong.

  The tenderness she carried for her family receded.

  Something colder took its place.

  She didn’t slow.

  “Look at my family like that again,” she said calmly, her voice flat and precise, “and you will go to sleep and never wake up, Elder. Bet on it.”

  She didn’t wait for a response.

  She simply passed him.

  The air around her did not carry a trace of fear—only certainty.

  She moved through the smaller Palace halls and ran into Andy and a woman she had not met, but had heard of.

  “Attendant Jianrong bids good day to General Jang and her Disciple.”

  Andy sighed. “Master, this is my sister. Please be patient. She was gifted with beauty, not intellect.” Andy stated.

  Rong nodded. “Excellency, if you need someone to beat your disciple, please feel free to call upon me any time. You cannot let this one linger, or he will steal chickens, tip the cow, and knock up the farmer's daughter all in a single day.” Rong hissed at Andrew.

  Jang stifled a laugh as she watched the siblings come to blows, each deflecting the other at an ever-increasing speed.

  “Can you gain any more weight, woman?” Andy hissed.

  “Finally, a problem you can't overcome by using your lower back.” Rong hissed back.

  Jang smiled. “Stop.”

  Their movements ceased, and both bowed to Jang.

  Rong’s fingers slid between Andy’s as she looked up at him. “You good?”

  Andy shook his head once.

  Jianrong glanced at Jang, then spoke softly. “Let’s see how it works out with my master. If it goes well… maybe we can visit and help a few people move on to the next stage of existence.”

  It wasn’t a boast.

  It was an offer.

  She smiled, released Andy’s hand, and left the two of them behind.

  Jang watched her go.

  Then, quietly, “Why does she smell like blood?”

  Andy smiled—not wide, not amused.

  “Because when she meets people who shouldn’t be running around wasting air,” he said evenly, “she doesn’t mind rectifying the problem.”

  Jang snorted and turned away, already moving. “Figures.”

  Jang didn’t slow as she added, “It’s time to teach you. After that, you’ll look over our people—see what needs doing.”

  Andy nodded.

  They headed toward the minor palace that the Empress had insisted Jang keep.

  Behind them, the corridor held no trace of Qi disturbance.

  When Jianrong reached Elaren’s office, she stopped.

  She took a slow breath, raised her hands, and lowered her head—an old habit, deliberate and grounding. Not everyone endured change well. She reminded herself of that. And she had already changed more than most.

  She could feel it now, unmistakable. Structural shifts at the base of her spine—her tailbone no longer quite the same.

  The process that was supposed to begin as metaphysical had already started to grow.

  Ling and Rou had not accounted for the loop they had fallen into.

  They fed.

  The feeding invigorated them.

  That vigor carried them forward—seeking her again, bodies softened into the next cycle.

  Drink.

  Recover.

  Rutt.

  Drink again.

  Around and around.

  Two gods were slowly and inexorably increasing the amount of Divine Spirit Beast essence her body carried.

  Not explosively.

  Incrementally.

  Enough that her system was already adapting.

  New meridians were forming—growing into channels her body had carved through bone and muscle to support the added load in her hips. This wasn’t indulgence.

  It was infrastructure.

  She couldn’t expect Elaren—or Sulara—to accept her as she had become.

  She hoped they would accept her anyway.

  Jianrong exhaled, steadied herself, and stepped into the unknown.

  The moment the door opened, Elaren looked up, then ran to Rong and held her as she cried.

  Jianrong started to cry, feeling as if it had been an eternity since she had held her.

  It had been weeks, and at the same time, it had been too long.

  “I know. Dar and Serel told me.” Elaren confessed she knew Jianrong was trapped in a form she had not asked for.

  She held Rong at her shoulders and took stock. “How bad is it?” Elaren asked.

  Rong had tears in her eyes. “Well, cultivators crawl out of the woodwork when I go by. The people who made me this way, who I love, cannot stop visiting me now that I won't die from their affection, and well…how do I put this… I am turning into a spirit fox with what will likely be a large bushy tail.” Rong said, her face scrunching up in emotion.

  Elaren held her; she noticed she was smaller, softer, and more emotional.

  She had changed so much in less than a month.

  Rong kissed Elaren, who fell into her like a gravity well.

  When time returned to normal, they were in bed, bare as Rong showed her the changes beyond the obvious ones.

  The hair along her arms, to the backs of her hands, was thickening, forcing her to wear longer sleeves.

  Her hands, which she had spent weeks slowly adjusting to be feminine, were changing to be more slender and longer as if she was supposed to play the piano. They were stronger, but it made her feel monstrous.

  Finally, Rong rolled over, and the patch of red fur was prominent that stretched across her lower back and above her backside.

  Elaren gasped and then reached.

  “Don’t!” Rong pleaded.

  Elaren froze, then whispered encouragement.

  “Be gentle, it's sensitive,” Rong said, having grown tired of the word.

  Elaren’s touch was a tiny growth.

  A tiny tail wagged back and forth as she watched, making her giggle.

  “N-noooo don’t laugh,” Rong pouted.

  Elaren curled around Rong. “Baby, it's so cute, you're so cute.”

  “Noooooo,” Rong wailed forlornly, making Elaren laugh, knowing she was playing it up for sympathy.

  The two stayed in bed.

  Rong cried. “I want to make love to you …but now all I can do is get horny.” She curled into Elaren, bitter.

  Elaren sighed. “I think we will figure it out.” She said, biting her lip.

  “It's not the same,” Rong huffed.

  Suddenly, the door burst open, and Jianrong screamed, startling Elaren and Sulara.

  A moment later, both Cyreths began laughing.

  “Nooo, don’t laugh, you scared me!” Rong wailed, feeling slighted.

  Soon, Sulara and Elaren were in bed with her.

  She connected via her Qi and told them the entire truth.

  She explained how she had always worshiped the Earth and the Sun, and one day the Earth had responded.

  She did not give names, but she explained she had met another god, a spirit fox who was helping the other god change her body.

  Now she worshipped both gods, and those gods visited her regularly.

  Both women… well, they took it better than most would Rong imagined.

  Sulara grew silent and thoughtful, but would not let go of Jianrong, her head pressed to Rong’s, offering words of encouragement.

  “So, they gave you a pill the first time you mated?” Sulara asked, then clarified. “To change you into a woman?”

  Jianrong nodded. “Yup, Uncle Ning’s talismans fell off, and then I was terrified that I would be knee deep in the clan and get discovered. Which…was true. These people were like Bloodline addicts.”

  “Why did you go, baby? You could have escaped.” Elaren's worry is showing through.

  “One of the Matrons' children was in danger. I didn’t want them to suffer as my mother did.”

  “So, you snuck in, got the children, and escaped?” Sulara asked, surprised.

  Rong licked her lips and looked away. “Yes.” She said.

  “Wait…did anything ELSE happen while you were doing that?” Elaren asked, knowing the answer, but unable to let it go.

  “It’s a city, bustling…I couldn’t keep track of the non-important things that happened.” Rong replied.

  Sulara reached and threatened to pinch Rong.

  “Did people die?” Elaren asked.

  Jianrong licked her lips. “Technically…yes.”

  “Oh gods.” Elaren closed her eyes. “Did you kill the Patriarch?”

  Rong shook her head. “I was told not to.”

  Sulara looked at Elaren.

  Something happened in that moment that would change Rong's life.

  “Jianrong Dar Bloodforge, as your spouse, you will honor my will in the future. You serve to protect at the detriment of your own life. I cannot live without you. My Grand Elder has shown you this through words; your patrons have shown you through actions. Now, I ask you to give me the same respect you give them, or we cannot remain together.” Elaren thought firmly.

  Rong blinked. “No, no, no... I, I didn’t risk myself... I held back; I swear it.” The young woman pleaded.

  Elaren looked at her through tears. “Then you will learn to cultivate so that you will remain with us. You said you would, but you gave up.”

  “Uncle Ning talks in poems and riddles!” Rong replied.

  Sulara whispered into her ear. “While you were away, the world changed. You will no longer be acting as our attendant. “

  Jianrong felt the onset of vertigo. “Wait, let me stay! I don’t trust the people here; only Uncle Ning can be trusted!” She turned to Sulara, distraught.

  Sulara looked into her eyes, and the same stillness washed over her as she fell into the deep red pools of her eyes.

  The empress smiled almost like a hawk towering over a swallow she had caught in her talons.

  “You will train with your brother, and when they say you're ready, you two will become our protectors. If you fail, we will toss you out of the Palace, and you will never see Elaren or me again.” Sulara breathed.

  Jianrong's face drained of blood, then Elaren was there looking down at her as well, and under their gaze, she was powerless to move.

  “No… Uncle Ning is terrible at teaching…give me a book or a manual, anything but that,” she pleaded weakly.

  “We gave you a manual, but you already admitted they don’t make sense,” Sulara replied.

  “I will be talking to the council about this,” Elaren added. “No more random murdering.”

  “They were raping children.” Rong whimpered.

  Sulara glanced at Elaren, who nodded. “Very well, that is acceptable.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Rong blinked. “R-really?” she asked, surprised.

  Elaren nodded. “Why did you kill the other ones?” she probed.

  “I was running away, and they attacked, and their swords broke and killed them.”

  The two women glanced at one another…” Show us.”

  “Can't you… Just take my word on it?” Rong said meekly.

  Elaren smiled, her eyes widening and growing luminous. “Show us.”

  Rong's body melted into the mattress, and a sigh escaped her lips.

  Sulara watched as, with no magic at all, the woman was powerless to say no to them.

  A short time later, they were seeing Clan Bloodforge through Jianrong’s eyes and senses.

  They realized immediately she did not use her Spirit Sense, only eyesight and sound.

  Then the sharp tug and Rong's arm moved in a fluid motion, and a powerful cultivator that would have fought for several incense sticks worth of time if against any orthodox opponent fell dead a heartbeat later.

  They watched until the four people took flight in an explosion of air and debris.

  When it was over, the two women moved back into position. Their eyes are holding Rong down.

  “You did well,” Sulara admitted.

  “Wife, I am proud of you. The way you made the children feel safe makes me feel confident.” Elaren gushed.

  Rong took an unsteady breath and gave a nod, her eyes moving between them.

  “Confidence you will succeed and stay by our sides, where you belong. In the open, proudly.” Sulara added.

  Rong’s eyes bulged.

  Sulara laughed. “Wife, how will you hide if you have a tail and ears on your head?”

  Jianrong blinked, then her trembling hand slowly moved to her head.

  There, she felt two soft mounds growing on her scalp.

  Her hands shot the ears she had spent a month perfecting.

  They were smaller, much smaller.

  Then Jianrong realized somehow, she had gained another spouse.

  Her mouth opened. “I-I cannot marry two people from the same family…there will be problems for you.” She sputtered.

  “Oh? Perhaps I will find a good man from Golding Claw to see to my needs.” Sulara said evenly.

  Rong thought she might faint as she imagined Xiang as Sulara’s husband. The sneer of disdain at her needs and wants.

  For a moment, she wanted to kill the faceless suitor.

  “Empress, no Sulara…. Darling, please no, they won't care about you! You deserve someone who always wants the best for you. Someone who sees you as the moon in the sky.” She warned distressed.

  Sulara kissed her slowly. They pulled back and spoke. “As Empress, I must be seen, visible..I cannot have a spouse who hides.”

  “But...I am an exile...” Rong was confused as to why this had come to a head.

  “Children of exiles are not exiles. You will become a Core Formation Protection Elder who is a Spirit Fox.” Sulara explained.

  “How is this different?” Rong asked, confused.

  Elaren tilted Rong's face and took a turn kissing her slowly.

  Rong's mind slowed as her eyelids grew heavy.

  Sulara watched in fascination as the young woman moved as if she were under a trance.

  “You will come to understand why as you begin to understand being a Cultivator.” Elaren purred making Rong bite her lip and her back to arch in desire for the woman she loved.”

  “I want you,” Elaren whispered.

  “I want you,” Rong confessed.

  “I need you...,” Elaren declared.

  “I need you too.” Rong declared.

  Both Sulara and Elaren pressed their heads to Jianrong’s.

  “You cannot be in our shadow anymore, little one,” Sulara murmured.

  Jianrong felt trapped.

  Trapped in a body she did not want, but her people needed.

  Trapped in a situation that she did not seek out but had become required.

  “I will try.” Jianrong finally said in capitulation.

  Elaren smiled, nodded, and looked at Sulara, who had the same face, content with effort.

  “You know…I have never had a female lover.” Elaren whispered.

  Sulara grinned. “I have, don’t worry, Aunty, I will walk you through it.”

  Jianrong froze her eyes wide. “Wait… I am working on a sensitivity issue.” She pleaded.

  “I thought you wanted me?” Elaren pouted.

  Jianrong made a noise of frustration. “I-I do, it's just..”

  Sulara nodded. “Just relax, this will be a learning experience for both of you.”

  Rong turned beet red, but her mouth remained clamped shut.

  Ning Ya sat outside Minister Elaren's chambers, waiting.

  He had words prepared.

  Reasonable words.

  Words about her safety, her training, her future.

  Words that would guide all three of them back to proper order.

  Then he heard it.

  Soft at first.

  A gasp.

  A murmur.

  Laughter—light, feminine, intimate.

  His jaw tightened.

  The sound grew.

  Not accidentally.

  Not carelessly.

  Louder. Someone moaned—he couldn't tell which one. Perhaps all three.

  His prepared words died in his throat.

  This wasn't private intimacy that happened while he waited.

  This was a demonstration.

  They must know he was there. And they were claiming her anyway.

  The sounds crescendoed—pleasure, possession, triumph—echoing through the door he'd been planning to knock on.

  His hands clenched once in his lap.

  Then stilled.

  Then opened.

  Empty.

  After a long moment, he rose.

  Smoothed his robes. And left.

  No one noticed him leave.

  No one ever did anymore.

  Behind him, the sounds of their victory grew louder still.

  They had forced his hand, not because of their love, but because of the inversion of hierarchy.

  Ning Ya was the family patriarch; his words guided.

  Ning Ya was a Nascent Soul; his power defined him as sovereign.

  A misplaced crown had inverted the heavens, and it was time for a correction.

  General Jang watched as Andrew got up, checked her people, wrote down all their problems, discussed them with them to verify, then, as if nothing had transpired, sat back down.

  One after another.

  When it was over, he tallied it all up.

  “If it's me and the others, there is about three days' worth of work here. Some of these are more Qi-intensive than others, so we would need to spread them out, Master.” Andrew explained.

  Jang turned to Ning, who had joined them to oversee the scale of what needed to be done.

  The Grand Elder nodded. “I have already sat with Nadia and Gaila. They understand the urgency. Nadia will be headed to the village soon, as the time to give birth closes in, all four will be able to help get your people's situation to a point that would reduce their pill consumption.”

  Jang nodded slowly, then looked at Fong Lu and Guo, who were healed entirely besides Fong’s missing fingers.

  The Commander was rosy; his health had never been better in his adult life as a cultivator.

  “General, this…as long as we follow the instructions I have been reviewing, we could actually keep progressing. Even on a lower pill count.” Guo explained.

  Jang nodded, surprised; her eyes slipped to Fong.

  “General, I will be receiving care as well. The two that can recover my fingers, Andrew has assured me, as long as they deliver fruit and sweets to the village, it won't be a problem.”

  Jang looked blankly at her intelligence officer, then to Ning.

  “They have a lot of women and children who enjoy those things, so to the siblings, that is their primary currency for hard work,” Ning said with a knowing look.

  “What do they normally charge?” Jang asked.

  “Grains, dried meat, and beans are popular with them,” Ning replied.

  Jang absorbed that in silence.

  Grains.

  Dried meat.

  Beans.

  Not spirit stones. Not contracts. Not favors owed to Heaven or sects.

  Just… food.

  That, more than anything else she had seen that day, unsettled her.

  She looked back at Guo. “Lower pill consumption means slower breakthroughs.”

  “Yes,” Guo said immediately. Then hesitated. “But it also means fewer collapses, fewer damaged meridians, fewer… losses.”

  Fong Lu nodded once. “I have reviewed the same material. It is not efficient in the empire's definition of efficiency. But it is stable.”

  Stable.

  Jang exhaled through her nose.

  Stability without extraction was not how Jinzhuao Tianchao measured success.

  She turned her gaze inward, calculating—three days of work. Shared labor. Non-monetary exchange. No formal ledger. No tribute. No contracts binding future obligation.

  This was not charity.

  This was a parallel economy.

  “They are not accumulating leverage,” Jang said slowly.

  Ning met her eyes. “No. They are reducing dependence.”

  That was worse.

  Jang’s fingers tapped once against her sleeve before she stilled them. “And they accept this payment willingly?”

  Ning inclined his head. “They asked for it.”

  The silence that followed was heavier than any aura.

  Finally, Jang spoke. “Do not…record this.” She breathed.

  Finally, it was just Jang and Ning.

  Both Nascent Souls drank their tea in silence when Jang finally spoke.

  “Disciple, explain to us what you feel when you circulate your Qi.” She commanded.

  Andrew stood up and bowed. “Master, all of us have to make our Qi cycle until recently actively. Jianrong cycles all the time now mechanically. What we feel is universal, though. As Qi moves, it is as if a light is turned on in our bodies; we can feel all the meridian pathways. If we choose to do so, we can look deep with what we call a ‘Soul Sense’, this is unlike spirit sense as it acts more like we are moving our point of physical vision to the location in the body or soul.” Andrew explained.

  “What happens when one of you is injured?” Jang asked.

  “Depends on the severity, but generally, if all is safe and we are going to recover, we refine our Qi to a specific refinement, then move it to the damaged area. If something is damaged, say torn muscles, then we use our Soul Sight to manipulate the Qi to pull and align the affected parts. For more serious injuries, we can produce Qi filaments in the body and bind them as one would suture a wound, but only Rong can do that on herself. She has a high pain threshold.” Andy replied.

  “Do you feel strain when you do this?” Ning asked.

  Andrew nodded. “The refining internally takes a great deal of bodily energy, so it's similar to being active, identical to calisthenics.

  “Have you been able to teach others to do this?” Jang asked.

  Andrew shook his head. “Our meridians are fundamentally different from everyone else's in the village. We have not asked anyone to change their bodies to see if they could learn.” He admitted.

  Both Ning and Jang nodded in approval.

  Jang looked at Ning, and both moved to Andrew and took a wrist.

  “Child cycles slowly, then goes to their maximum only briefly. Slowly.” Ning guided Andrew the same way he had guided Jianrong, before she had stopped training altogether.

  Andrew nodded. His body fell silent, a quiet, almost impossibly low-frequency hum, and slowly rose until it became a sharp, keening noise, at which point the young man sparkled gold, and a corona of gold erupted around him.

  Then, silence.

  Jang was shocked; Ning was not. He had seen it before.

  “Young man, refrain from using maximum output in areas where people are present.” He explained.

  Andrew nodded. “It's only ever live or die situations, we don’t like pushing the Core to that level if possible. Safety First.” He said with a smile.

  “Your cycling signature is a beacon when you let it peak.” Ning nodded.

  “Resonance-wise and visually, Jang said, pinching Andy’s chin.

  “When you reduce to that first hum from nothing, where does your awareness sit?” Ning asked.

  Andrew thought, then brought his Core up to its lowest resonance.

  “I would say it's on my Core, since it is asleep until I wake it, it's like reaching for a lamp to turn up the light.” He offered.

  The Grand Elder nodded once.

  “That is acceptable—for cycling.”

  A pause.

  “But insufficient for survival.”

  Andrew nodded. “We have recognized that part of our mind has to remain with the Core to keep it moving and regulated. This is why you will see us go all in with Qi constructs or, like Rong, use no Qi at all, just muscle and Energy Eater to refuel and short-circuit others' magic.” Andrew admitted.

  “That explains your extremes,” Ning said, then gave a brief explanation to Jang to bring her up to speed.

  “So, none of you have your Core connected to Spirit, you're actively controlling it, or it's silent,” Jang said softly as she wrapped her head around it.

  Andy nodded.

  “If regulation consumes your attention…”

  “Then when you disengage, you do not rest.”

  He took a slow breath.

  “You vanish.”

  That word mattered. Not relax. Not idle. Vanish.

  “This is why intent strikes you before strength ever does.”

  Andrew tilted his head. “So, is it correct to think that Intent needs active cycling to repel the same way you use Qi shields? Andrew asked.

  “No.”

  A single word first. Clear boundary.

  Then he expanded—not in doctrine, but in mechanics.

  “Intent does not require active cycling to repel.”

  “If it did, children would die the first time an elder looked at them.”

  He continued after a pause, thinking that would land with the young man. Andrew just looked at him, oblivious to the message.:

  “Qi shields are responses. They require activation.”

  “Intent is pressure. It does not wait for activation.”

  A beat.

  “By the time you think to repel it, it has already arrived.”

  Andrew frowned slightly, not sure what that meant.

  Ning pressed—not harder, but deeper.

  The core correction

  “Intent is not blocked.”

  “It is redirected.”

  He lifted two fingers and tapped lightly against his own chest—not the Core.

  “When your presence is seated, intent encounters resistance before it reaches you.”

  “Not strength. Not Qi. Existence.”

  He let those words hang.

  “You are imagining intent as a projectile.”

  Andrew nodded faintly. That was precisely what he thought, a spear of willpower.

  “It is not.” Ning shook his head once. “It is closer to gravity.”

  That was meant to click differently.

  Andrew listened intently.

  “If you exist, gravity curves around you. If you vanish, you fall.”

  Silence.

  “You make it sound like ‘seating one's presence’ is like locking in your location, you are, in a sense, fortifying that position as the gravity wave comes.” Andrew thought aloud.

  “…No,” he said quietly.

  Not dismissive. Not sharp.

  Just precise.

  He turned his hand palm-up between them, fingers relaxed.

  “You are still imagining a position being fortified.”

  Andrew stilled, listening.

  “That implies preparation. Preparation implies response. Response implies time.”

  He let the words settle.

  “Intent does not grant you time.”

  He lowered his hand.

  “Seating your presence is not locking a location.”

  He tapped his chest again—light, deliberate.

  “It is occupying yourself.”

  That distinction mattered.

  “You are not bracing against the wave. You are not reinforcing a point. You are not resisting anything.”

  Andrew’s brow furrowed.

  Ning continued as Jang nodded, feeling that he was explaining it properly.

  “Gravity does not care where you are prepared to stand.”

  “It curves space around mass.”

  A beat.

  “Presence is mass.”

  He let that land.

  “When you are present, intent bends. When you are absent, intent passes through where you should have been.”

  The silence stretched.

  “Ahhh. Okay then.” Andy nodded.

  “From now on,” Ning says calmly, “do not allow yourself to go fully dark when you disengage from cycling.”

  Andrew grimaced. “I cannot hold it on all the time; it literally splits my attention.”

  “I did not say hold it on.”

  Andrew stilled

  Ning continues, measured: “You are thinking in terms of load.”

  “Attention.”

  “Allocation.”

  “That is not presence.” He set his teacup down. The sound is soft, but deliberate.

  “Presence does not consume attention.”

  Andrew gave a slow blink.

  “If it did,” Ning adds, “no one could sleep.”

  “Okay, Uncle Ning.” Andrew nodded and smiled.

  Ning inclined his head slightly.

  “Good.”

  A pause.

  Then, carefully, he phrased it so it could not be misheard: “You will discover that you already know how to do this.”

  Andrew gave a ghost a smile and glanced at Jang, who nodded in agreement and gave a silent chuckle to himself, remembering Jianrong explaining how Ning talked in poems and riddles.

  “Thank you for your teachings.” Andy bowed and was silent.

  When Andrew left, Ning sighed and then looked at Jang.

  “Both of them are the same. I say words, and they don’t understand my intent.” The Grand Elder lamented.

  Jang leaned back in her seat. “He acted as he understood.” She offered.

  Ning gave a weak smile. “They don’t fight, they don’t argue. They just… disconnect.” He warned.

  Not long after Jianrong arrived.

  With a salute, she entered the office where the two Nascent Souls were sitting.

  “Uncle Ning, I was told to either train or go home forever. Do you have time to say words I will probably not understand today?” she asked.

  Ning drew breath through his nose. “Child, must you give up without even trying?” he asked.

  Jianrong gave a weak smile and bowed.

  Jang leaned over. “Let me try this one, I have an idea.” She said.

  Ning nodded and was silent.

  “Child, when you cycle your Qi, do you focus on your Core?” Jang asked.

  Jianrong saluted. “Yes, Excellency, it's exactly like that, I feel like I am looking inward and telling a worker to do a task, the part of me remains to guide them.”

  Both masters nodded. “When you stop, where do you go. That presence that told the worker to work where?”

  Rong made a face while thinking, then pointed between her eyes.

  Both Nascent Souls glanced at one another.

  “Jianrong…how much control do you have over your body, its functions?” Jang asked.

  Rong thought. “I would say near absolute, I could probably stop my heart if I wanted to.” She admitted.

  “If she ever loses executive control for even a breath… There is nothing underneath.” Jang thought.

  Not instinct. Not spirit. Not self.

  Just silence.

  That means:

  Intent doesn’t overwhelm her.

  Intent finds nothing to press against.

  Then the collapse is instantaneous.

  “Then you are running your body without a failsafe,” Jang warned.

  Rong shrugged. “The brain still has control, but just like blinking or swallowing, I can interfere and do as needed. From making it look like I am blushing, or pretending to be afraid or aroused, to lure an enemy into a false sense of security.” She pointed out.

  “Then you are not luring enemies into a false sense of security,” Jang said evenly.

  “You are gambling that nothing unexpected happens while you are pretending.”

  She paused to drive her point home.

  “If something unexpected touches you—”

  “You don’t flinch.”

  “You don’t react.”

  “You don’t exist.”

  “Yes, Excellency.” Jianrong nodded in understanding.

  “Control is not a failsafe,” Jang said. “It is a single point of failure.”

  Rong nodded, her face passive.

  “There must be a part of you that remains when you are not looking,” Ning added.

  “Not watching.”

  “Not pretending.”

  “Not choosing.”

  “Because enemies do not always announce themselves,” Jang warned.

  Jianrong saluted. “Yes, I understand.”

  “You will demonstrate,” Ning stated.

  Rong shook her head. “I have no idea how.” She stated.

  “You just said you understood.” Jang pointed out.

  “I know how nuclear fusion works, I cannot go thermonuclear.” Rong countered.

  Jang did not bristle. Ning did not sigh.

  Neither of them treated it as insolence.

  Ning only inclined his head a fraction.

  “Good,” he said quietly.

  Both women stilled.

  Rong blinked. “Good?”

  “Yes,” Ning replied. “Because now we are no longer pretending you misunderstood.”

  He stepped closer—not into her space, not looming. Just present.

  “You did not claim you could do it,” Ning continued. “You claimed you understood the risk.”

  “That is sufficient.”

  “You are correct,” he said calmly. “You cannot ‘do’ this.” He continued.

  “Because it is not an action.”

  Rong listened intently.

  Ning waited for her to respond; she didn’t argue or complain.

  “Failure is what we will show you.” He explained.

  Silence reigned after Rong gave a tired sigh.

  Jang’s voice cut in, steady and surgical.

  “You are going to stand,” she said. “And you are going to do nothing.”

  Rong nodded, unsure of the goal or the expectations were.

  “No,” Jang interrupted. Not sharp. Absolute. “You have been turning yourself off.”

  That hit thin air as Rong simply stared.

  Ning continued seamlessly.

  “You are not being asked to succeed,” he said.

  “You are being asked not to disappear.”

  Rong waited as her body bobbed with a silent chuckle. “Okay, Master.”

  “That,” Ning replied, “is what we will be measuring.”

  He gestured to the open space again.

  “Stand. Do not cycle. Do not suppress. Do not perform.”

  “And when you feel yourself slipping—do not correct it.”

  Jang finished the sentence.

  “Let us see where you go.”

  The room went very still.

  Not tense.

  Not hostile.

  Clinical.

  Rong stepped forward and waited.

  Time passed, and finally she dissociated to think about other things more interesting than staring at the attention, waiting for a poem to make sense.

  Ning’s voice arrived instantly.

  “Stay.”

  Not loud.

  Not commanding.

  Anchoring.

  Rong froze, “Does he mean like stay in the moment, the present…is this just about being eternally vigilant, Jesus fucking Christ, that would be exhausting.” She thought.

  Her shoulders loosened a fraction as her attention slid sideways, already preparing to disengage the way she always did when instructions stopped making sense.

  Ning felt it.

  Not as intended.

  Not as a movement.

  As an absence.

  “Not that,” he said immediately.

  Rong startled, eyes snapping back to him. “Not… what?”

  Ning didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t elaborate.

  “Do not watch yourself,” he said.

  “Do not hold the moment.”

  “Do not maintain attention.”

  Her brow creased. “Then what am I—”

  Jang cut in, precise as a scalpel.

  “Child,” she said, “if this were vigilance, we would be teaching guards, not people.”

  That landed harder.

  Rong’s mouth opened, then closed again.

  Then mentally she pretended she was staying awake, just counting—ten, one hundred, a thousand. The numbers increased as both Masters watched her with their spirit senses, her mind active.

  “Let's try this again. You will stand that, and when your presence disappears, we will tell you, the goal is for you to recognize what that feels like.”

  Rong nodded, and a moment later, she was blank, a complete void.

  Jang opened her mouth, stunned, and looked at Ning, who blinked. “Rong.. you have disappeared.”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  Then just as before, void.

  Ning moved and touched Jianrong's wrist,

  "Now. Feel THIS."

  His presence overlapped her void, causing discomfort yet revealing what they were talking about.

  “Ah, so it's like Aura almost,” Rong said, still no presence beyond a faint trace.

  Jang and Ning both wanted to correct her, but remained silent.

  “Master, just out of curiosity. When does the spirit presence become developed normally?”

  Ning thought for a moment. “Normally, a child's Crown opens at age six, basic presence by age seven, stable by age ten, and completely developed by Foundation Establishment.”

  The more Ning talked the larger Jianrong’s smile became.

  “…You don’t say. WELP…IMMA HEAD OUT.” Jianrong said with a hollow laugh while rising and left without another word.

  Jang watched, confused and unsettled.

  Then she watched Ning seem to realize something and put his head in his hands covering his face.

  “Elder, what is it?” Jang asked.

  “All four siblings had their Crown Chakras meridian blocked until very recently.” Ning said while looking pale.

  “How recently?” Jang asked.

  “Less than two lunar cycles.” He admitted that he was confused why people with a blocked chakra didn’t have a fully mature Spirit.