Bao Kun Sits in front of Jin, unlike normal the atmosphere around him seemed a bit serious. Jin was curious from the day he met Bao Kun he thought his methods were a part of some elaborate scam, but now that he manifested the strength of the Star Shattering Halberd arts his doubts towards Bao Kun wavered. Jin awaited the explanation with bated breath; this could truly change his outlook towards what Bao Kun was teaching him.

Bao Kun cleared his throat and started speaking “As you may already know qi-cultivation is not the only way to gain strength, some of the known ways include sorcery, intent arts, body refining arts. However these arts at their peak cannot compete with qi cultivation at its own peak.

That is because these arts are not complete. The main difference between them and Qi cultivation lies in foundation and continuity. Sorcery manipulates what lies outside the body, Intent Arts stir the mind to command unseen force, and Body Refinement forces the flesh beyond mortal limits. Each hones one piece of existence—but Qi cultivation reshapes the whole.

Qi cultivation is the art of balance. It rebuilds the body’s channels and aligns one’s breath with the world’s flow. A true Qi cultivator restores order where decay has taken root; his strength comes not from resistance, but from harmony. When the Qi within matches the rhythm of heaven and earth, the cultivator’s body becomes part of the world’s cycle—he heals faster, moves faster, and endures longer because the world itself sustains him.

Yet there exists another path—one rarely spoken of in this age—the path of Momentum. Where Qi flows outward, Momentum presses inward. It is not about peace or balance, but weight—the ability to make one’s will so heavy that nothing can oppose it. Momentum does not borrow from the world; it makes the world remember its own force.

Most call it a body-refining art, but that is only its surface. Momentum cultivation trains the body until it can bear the weight of its own spirit. Each strike, each breath, compresses strength deeper, until motion and will are one. While Qi cultivators breathe in rhythm with heaven, Momentum cultivators forge their own gravity.

Sorcery may trick the elements, Intent may command them, and the body may endure them—but Qi and Momentum stand apart. One grants life to power; the other gives that power form. In ancient times, they were said to be the two halves of the martial path itself: the Breath and the Weight of Heaven.”

Jin stood amazed, the art was so elaborate. Its duality to qi cultivation, its superiority to other methods, its deep foundations, and last but not least the fact that it could compete with the path of qi cultivation. At this point Jin previous doubts were cleared, this was most definitely not a scam, this thought to himself ‘This old bastard he was never trying to scam me, he was trying to induct me into a fucking cult’.

But even under Jin’s new understanding of Bao Kun’s intentions, there lay a bigger portion of wondering, wondering if Bao Kun was really not lying to him. Within the conflicting understandings Jin had of his situation he understood one thing ‘whether or not the old bastard is lying to me there is no real escape from his hands. As much as I’m worried about the potential group suicide dedicated to the star Shattering Emperor, the strength I gained from this method is real, not something that was given to me, rather something I’ve taken with my own hands’ while bearing a serious face, Jin concluded that for now he should just train under Bao Kun.

Looking at Jin’s serious expression Bao Kun assumed his shit for brains disciple actually understood what he was talking about, somewhat amazed by this outcome bao Kun spoke “Good you’re finally starting to understand”. Jin lost in his own thoughts spoke without remembering words spoken can never be taken back, Jin spoke “Yes master… I understand perfectly, You’re fucking insane”. Bao Kun’s smile twisted into a horrifying smirk “Since you understand so well, brat, it’s time for a practical lesson”.

Night falls, Jin wakes up looking at the stars, he speaks out loud “I have attained harmony through the Great Dog Beating Stick Method”. Bao Kun responds “What nonsense is this brat spouting, have my beatings made the brat lose his mind” after some contemplation Bao Kun knocks Jin out and decides to deal with this in the morning.

Morning came slow and merciful. Jin woke up staring at the ceiling of their hut, ribs wrapped, head throbbing, and body feeling like he’d been trampled by divine cattle.

He sat up groaning, “I think I finally understand what you meant by forging the body, old man…”
From the other side of the room, Bao Kun replied lazily, “Good. Then you’re ready for your next lesson: forging pain tolerance.”

Jin glared. “You’re a fucking sadist, not a master.”

Despite the bruises and the sarcasm, the days that followed were oddly peaceful. Jin spent mornings eating congee and patching his clothes, afternoons practicing halberd drills by the river, and evenings passed out face-first in the dirt. His body was battered, but his movements grew smoother. The halberd that once dragged him into the river now spun with a whistle through the air, cutting waves instead of causing them.

Bao Kun mostly drank, occasionally shouting “Your swing’s weaker than a toddler’s slap!” between gulps of wine.
Even so, Jin could tell—the old bastard was secretly proud.

By the end of the week, Jin’s bruises had faded into faint yellow marks, his muscles hardened like hammered steel, and he could sense that strange heat simmering just beneath his skin—no longer wild, but waiting.

It was on the eighth morning, while Jin was halfway through breakfast, that Bao Kun slammed his gourd down and said, “Brat, it’s time you stop bullying the river. Let’s see how you swing against something that swings back.”

Jin looked up, mouth full. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bao Kun stood, stretching like a lazy tiger. “Bandits,” he said. “A few streets over, they’ve been hitting Shuimeng’s caravans and stealing food from the outer farms. The village chief came whining to me last night, said they’ve already crippled two hunters. Normally, I’d let the local guards deal with it—but since I have a disciple now, why not make it your practical exam?”

Jin almost choked on his food. “Wait—you mean me?! What about you?!”

Bao Kun’s grin widened. “Me? I’ll supervise, of course. From a safe distance. With wine.”

“Safe distance my ass! You’re just gonna nap under a tree again!”

Bao Kun waved him off. “Stop whining, brat. If you can’t handle a few bandits, forget swinging that halberd—you can start practicing the Beggar Sect’s begging techniques again.”

Jin grumbled, but the thought of putting his new strength to the test—and proving to himself this wasn’t just another one of the old man’s elaborate scams—sparked something in his chest.
He strapped his halberd to his back, tied his tattered sash, and muttered, “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

Bao Kun snorted. “With your luck, you’ll probably haunt yourself. Now go. Make me proud—or at least make it entertaining.”

As Jin left the hut and headed toward the forest outskirts, the villagers watched from a distance—some cheering, some betting on how long he’d last.

Jin sighed, twirling his halberd once. “From slave labor to scam disciple to unpaid pest control. Truly, I’ve ascended.”
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode toward the treeline.
Somewhere in the shadows, the bandits were waiting.
And for the first time, Jin was eager to swing his halberd not at air, but at something that could bleed.