The first light of dawn filtered through the thin cracks in the wooden shutters of the small room he now called home. Lui Yan's body stretched stiffly, groaning in protest, but the mind inside it was already alive, sharp, calculating. Hunger gnawed, and every movement reminded him of the body's fragility, yet that did not deter him.
The river.
His eyes swept across the landscape. A narrow ribbon of silver water curved gently through the valley, reflecting the rising sun. The logic was immediate: water source, safety, natural resources nearby. This would be the heart of his new base.
He tested his legs cautiously, noting the tremors and weakness in each step. Trees nearby were examined for size, strength, and proximity. Deadfall could be repurposed. Stones could serve as foundation. Vines, mud, and leaves - materials were everywhere if one only knew how to see them.
By midday, he had picked the perfect spot: a flat area slightly elevated from the riverbank, partially shielded by a copse of trees. It offered visibility, protection, and access to resources. He crouched, brushing his fingers over the earth, mentally measuring distances, calculating angles, and plotting the design.
Engineering is universal, he thought. No one taught me this, yet the principles remain the same.
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The forest surrounding his chosen site was both a treasure trove and a challenge. Thin, brittle branches were easy to snap but weak; thick trunks were durable but heavy. He began collecting wood, testing its flexibility and strength by bending and snapping small pieces. Vines were stripped from trees carefully, chosen for elasticity. Leaves were stacked to later insulate walls and roof. Stones were gathered not just for foundations, but for weight distribution and balance.
Small animals scurried in the underbrush. Using his modern mind, he designed simple traps: snare loops, pitfalls camouflaged with leaves, and baited twigs to catch small game. Not to harm unnecessarily, but to secure food. Each step was executed with patience and precision, a combination of instinct and analytical calculation.
By the third day, he had amassed enough materials to begin construction.
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He knelt on the soft earth, arranging beams and stones, imagining the final structure. Despite his frail body, his mind orchestrated every movement, compensating for weakness with clever leverage. He built a small wooden hut, its floor raised above the damp earth, walls fortified with interwoven branches and mud, and a sloped roof to channel rainwater.
A small storage area was incorporated, secured with vines tied in intricate knots - simple, but functional. Each step reflected careful reasoning: balance, structural integrity, material efficiency. It was a house that an ordinary boy could never have conceived, but a mind like his could see solutions where others saw only obstacles.
Even while working, he felt it - the subtle pulse in the air, the faint energy that seemed to thread through the forest, the river, and every living thing. It was delicate, almost imperceptible, but undeniable.
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At first, he thought it was imagination. Yet as he dug his hands into the soil, arranged beams, or simply breathed in the crisp morning air, he began to notice patterns. Tiny warmth in his dantian, a gentle vibration along his limbs, a flow of energy that responded to concentration.
Qi.
The concept was simple yet profound. Energy in the body could be guided. Focus could direct it. Environment could nourish it. Breath could cultivate it.
Without any teacher, without formal techniques, he began experimenting. Standing meditation: he planted his feet firmly, aligned posture, breathed slowly. He moved energy from his core outward, feeling tiny sparks respond to intention. It was clumsy, but it worked.
Walking along the river, he observed the flow of water and imagined energy moving in the same patterns, learning rhythm and continuity. He tested stretching, movement, and breath, refining coordination, noticing subtle reactions. Slowly, the frail body seemed to listen, muscles responding with less resistance, mind and energy becoming more integrated.
By the fifth day, he had begun subtle manipulation of qi:
Breathing exercises aligned with energy flow.
Small movements in hands and feet increased awareness of qi circulation.
Energy feedback helped him notice weaknesses in the body he could slowly correct.
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Days blended into one another. He divided his time logically: building, gathering, and energy training. Each day, the house grew sturdier, supplies more abundant, and his understanding of qi deeper.
Dug a small well near the river for water.
Built a fire pit and simple cooking area.
Filtered water with clay and woven reeds.
Set up traps for fish and small game.
Even the faintest sensations of qi were analyzed, noted, and experimented with. He realized that the body was only part of the equation - the environment was another. Sunlight, water, wind, flowing river, and living creatures were all components of energy he could tap into and use to cultivate.
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One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he sensed a subtle disturbance in the forest. The energy was deliberate, moving in measured intervals, almost testing him. His mind ran through possibilities: wild beast, wandering cultivator, or trick of the wind?
He crouched low in his hut, listening, observing, planning. Each detail was recorded in his mind: tempo of footsteps, energy shifts, direction of movement. The frail body of Lui Yan would have been useless, but with his mind, he was prepared.
A ripple of excitement surged. For the first time in decades, he felt true anticipation. Not fear. Not dread. Excitement.
This is not survival. This is the beginning of everything.
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Final Reflection of Chapter 2
By the end of the week, his hut stood firm, traps were in place, and the basic survival needs of food, water, and shelter were met. More importantly, his understanding of qi had deepened. The subtle pulse he first noticed was no longer an abstract concept - it was tangible, measurable, and manipulable, waiting for him to unlock its full potential.
He sat at the edge of the river, feeling the cool water flow over his fingers. The forest was alive, the energy of nature palpable. Somewhere in the distance, faintly, a stronger pulse lingered. It was calling, challenging, teasing.
And Lui Yan's frail body no longer felt like a prison. It felt like a canvas.
Soon, they will see that intelligence and strategy can surpass strength. Soon, I will rise.