The sun had risen fully over the eastern ridge by the time the mist began to lift from the valley. A pale gold hue warmed the shrine stones, drying the morning dew on the moss.
They'd received no word yet from the elder.
But for the first time since arriving at the sect, Joseph felt something like calm.
After hours of sitting around the stone shrine and half-hearted bickering, the group had relaxed into something resembling peace. Han Bo was off trying to balance rocks again. Lin Yue sat against a shrine pillar, head tilted back, eyes closed, but clearly not asleep. Liang Jun stood nearby, blade unsheathed, going through a slow sword form—a breathing technique that moved like a dance, fluid and purposeful.
Joseph watched him for a while, then finally stepped forward, curiosity rising.
"Hey," he said, brushing a leaf off his shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"
Liang turned, lowering the blade. "Of course."
Joseph pointed at the weapon. "Why do we train swordsmanship so early? I mean... we're still in Stage One, right? Most of us haven't even cultivated qi properly yet. I feel like I'm pretending to be a swordsman without knowing what the sword's actually doing."
Liang smiled at the question, lowering his blade completely.
"A good question," he said. "One that many outer disciples ask. But here at the Sect of the Returning Soul, sword training is more than technique. It's our foundation. Our Dao."
Joseph blinked. "Even if we're not using qi with it yet?"
Liang nodded. "Especially then. Our sect's path intertwines life and death. Our swordwork isn't just physical—it's a reflection of the soul. That's why we're introduced to the Heaven-Defying Sword Technique from the beginning, even though we can't truly harness its energy until Stage Five."
"Heaven-Defying?" Joseph asked, half in awe. "Sounds dramatic."
Liang chuckled. "It is. It's also very real. One of the few sword arts in the Eastern Sky Province that was developed from dream state cultivation. Legends say our founder envisioned it while hanging between death and enlightenment. It's both a blade and a boundary—between the self and the heavens."
Joseph nodded slowly. "So… learning it early helps us prepare?"
"More than that. It lets us begin forming our sword intent. That's unique to each cultivator. You'll notice—Han Bo's sword forms are aggressive, wild. Lin Yue's are controlled, surgical. Mine lean toward reflection and counterplay. Your own intent will form the more you understand yourself."
Joseph looked down at his own sheathed training sword. "Feels a bit like trying to compose a song with an instrument I haven't tuned yet."
Liang's smile deepened. "And yet, isn't that the point? If you wait until Stage Five to touch the instrument, how will your soul know what it wants to play?"
That silenced Joseph for a while.
The birds chirped above them, and the wind stirred the grass. For a place that had nearly killed them yesterday, it was oddly peaceful now.
"How long have you been in Stage One?" Joseph asked, curiosity pulling him forward again.
Liang didn't hesitate. "Three years."
Joseph nearly choked. "Three? I thought Stage One was like… introductory level."
"It is. But advancement isn't just about qi accumulation. It's about spiritual alignment. Tempering the body, clearing karmic cycles. And for me," he said, sheathing his sword, "the Mist Path Trial has always held me back."
Joseph blinked. "What do you mean?"
Liang shrugged. "I've taken it four times now. Every time, something disrupts it. Injury, spiritual backlash, environmental anomaly. This was the first time I made it to the shrine."
Joseph was quiet for a moment. "Sorry."
"No need. This time felt different. Maybe it's time I break through."
Joseph shifted uncomfortably. "I've only been in Stage One for, uh… a week."
Liang raised an eyebrow. "Then you're either lucky—or cursed."
"Hopefully just lucky," Joseph muttered.
Liang turned slightly. "And Lin Yue?"
"A year," Lin Yue called without opening her eyes. "I've been in Stage One for a full year."
Joseph looked over. "And Han Bo?"
"Same," she replied. "We joined together."
Han Bo chimed in from behind a boulder, "She's been ahead of me in every class, though. I swear she cultivates while asleep."
"Because I don't waste time balancing rocks," she replied dryly.
Joseph grinned, then asked, "And… Ping An?"
Lin Yue cracked one eye open. "Also a year. He joined the same month."
That surprised Joseph. He'd assumed Ping An was more advanced. But then again, he seemed older, in spirit if not in body. He spoke with the ease of someone who knew more than they let on.
Maybe that was part of his cultivation.
Liang stretched his arms, joints cracking slightly. "Everyone progresses at their own pace. Some reach Stage Two in months. Others spend years at the threshold."
Joseph turned the training sword over in his hands. "So what exactly separates Stage One from Two?"
Liang turned thoughtful. "It's when qi becomes more than just presence. You stop sensing it—and start shaping it. It moves from the dantian, the center of energy, into your channels. Think of it as water finding the right groove in a dry riverbed. Until that moment, you're still carving the river."
Joseph nodded slowly. "So that's why we meditate so much."
"And why the Mist Path matters," Liang added. "It tests the soul more than the body."
Joseph leaned back against a tree trunk. "It's weird. I feel like I've been here for a lifetime already."
Han Bo tossed a pebble at him. "That's because you keep overthinking everything. Relax. Learn. Swing the sword. Eat the rice. Life in the sect isn't so bad."
Joseph caught the pebble and tossed it back, smirking.
"I'll get used to it," he said. "I'm still figuring out where I fit."
Liang looked at him curiously. "You said you've only been in Stage One for a week. How did you even get assigned to the Mist Path so early?"
Joseph hesitated.
"I… pushed myself," he said slowly. "Wanted to see where I stood."
A partial truth. He wasn't ready to explain the rest. Not until he understood it himself.
Lin Yue didn't press, but her eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary.
"Whatever your reason," Liang said, "you held your own."
Joseph looked down at the sword again.
Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to believe it.