CHAPTER 3

Every day, Rae sat cross-legged with his back straight and eyes closed.

Four hours at a time.

It was the only thing his body could endure without collapsing. Breathing. Listening. Holding still while pain crawled through him like insects under skin.

Roa allowed no shortcuts.

“A dull mind rots faster than a weak body,” he said once. “If you let it rest, it dies.”

So Rae breathed.

The first week, he lasted thirty minutes before his lungs gave out. Blood on his lips. Vision swimming. Roa said nothing. Simply waited until he could continue.

The second week, an hour. Then two.

By the third week, four hours came easier. His lungs no longer rattled with every breath. His body no longer fought the rhythm. Progress measured in minutes, in breaths that did not hurt as much as they had before.

But the heaviness remained.

This heaviness pressed down from inside, like a stone lodged in his chest. No matter how much he breathed, how steady his rhythm became, it would not move.

Inhale through the nose. Hold. Exhale slowly and controlled.

Sweat soaked the stone beneath him. His muscles trembled. His lungs burned, but the rhythm held.

One morning, two fingers pressed against Rae’s sternum.

Roa’s eyes opened.

Roa stood above him, expression unreadable. His fingers moved lower, tracing patterns across Rae’s chest that he could not see. 

Roa’s fingers slowed, paused and pressed harder.

“…Interesting.”

“What is it?”

Roa did not answer immediately. He pulled his hand back and studied Rae with narrowed eyes. “There’s something else in your body,” he said.

Rae swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“Something wrong,” Roa said slowly, choosing each word with care. “Something unnatural.”

His fingers tapped once against the staff.

“This was not an accident.”

“I do not understand.” Rae’s chest tightened. “What is wrong with me?”

“I am not entirely sure yet.” Roa turned back and began pacing the cavern. “But whatever it is, it is suppressing you.”

The words landed heavy.

Suppressing you.

Rae’s fists clenched on his lap. “Remove it.”

“I cannot,” Roa replied at once. ”Not yet.”

“Why not?”

Roa stopped and faced him fully. “Because you are not ready. In your current state, the backlash would kill you.”

Rae’s breath caught. “Then what do I do?”

“Rebuild.” Roa tapped his staff against the stone floor. “Your body is a broken vessel. Before anything, we fix your foundation. We rebuild your body from nothing.”

Silence filled the cavern.

Rae stared down at his hands. Small. Scarred. Weak. 

“How long?”

“Months, maybe a year.” Roa’s expression did not soften. “It depends on how much you can endure.”

Rae lifted his head. “Will I be able to become a martial artist?”

Roa studied him. “If you survive the process, yes.”

“Then teach me.”

“Teach you what?” Roa’s voice was sharp. “With the state you are in, you cannot circulate Qi. You cannot even sense it properly. You are less than a normal child.”

“Fix me.”

The words came out sharp. Desperate. Bare.

Roa stared at him for a long moment. Not the broken body. Not the scars. The eyes. 

Something shifted in his expression, not approval but recognition.

He had seen this before. In warriors who refused to break. Who clawed their way past death itself. 

The boy had survived fire. Survived drowning. Survived having his entire world burned away.
And still demanded to move forward.

“You do not understand what you are asking for,” 

“I do not care.”

“You should.” Roa stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Rae where he sat.

“The pain will be worse than anything you have felt. Worse than the fire. Worse than drowning.” His gaze was cold.

“Your muscles will tear and rebuild. Your bones will scream. Your organs will resist you.” He lowered his voice.

“You will beg your body to stop.”

Rae lifted his head.

“If pain is my only path,” he said, emerald eyes steady, “then I was meant to suffer.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then Roa snorted.“…You are something else, kid.”

He turned away, planting his staff against the stone.

“Fine,” he said. “We do this the hard way.”

Rae’s heart pounded.

Roa glanced back once.

“From tomorrow onward, breathing is no longer enough.”