MasterLan Huai

It seemed like the lecture chamber hadn’t been used in years. Honestly, he hadn't lectured for years and wouldn't be back here if General Li had not specifically asked him.

The room had high windows and let in only slanted morning light. The dust in the rafters caught the glow like smoke from some invisible incense. The walls were lined with books older than most lineages. Not tomes of spells or blade forms—no, these were treatises, meditations, and failed philosophical arguments wrapped in aged scrolls.

The kind of texts no one read anymore.

Lan Huai stood at the center of the ringed stone floor, robes still as his breath. He didn’t carry a blade. He hadn’t for decades. He let Master Shen and others like him handle that. He mind and thoughts were his weapon now.

Around him sat thirteen students, hand-selected from the Li family’s inner ranks and a few favored branch houses. General Li himself occupied a seat at the rear, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

This lecture was not for them.

It was for the boy in the front row.

Ethan Zhou sat straight, hands folded, face unreadable. He lacked the arrogance someone of his age often showed; he simply looked...curious and focused. Really locked into what was being discussed. Lan Huai had lectured in front of kings and mystics. None had ever listened with so much intesnity and focus.

It was quite curious.

“Let us continue our discussion.”

His voice was not loud. It didn’t need to be.

“You have been taught, all of you, that cultivation is a ladder. A series of steps toward clarity, strength, and freedom. A ten-tiered path forged from the bones and wisdom of those who walked before you.”

He paced slowly, the echoes of his footfalls marking rhythm more than just sound.

“But the ladder is not the path. The ladder is only the shape we give the path, so we do not lose it in the dark.”

There was no spellcraft in his voice. Only weight.

“The Human Realm consists of ten levels. You know their names. You’ve memorized the transitions. You’ve recevied instruction and direction, mantras and forms to help with your pulse and meridian expansions. Some of you may even believe you understand them.”

He stopped walking. Turned to face the group.

“You do not.”

A few students stiffened.

Ethan did not move.

"You have been taught the following"

Magic spilled out in the form of a an array and then an activation sequences. An illusionary holgram appeared before them. It read:

“Level One—Body Forging. Not just the shaping of muscle or the tempering of bones. It is the reordering of biological rhythm to allow for sustained mana presence. Your blood becomes the first vessel.”

“Level Two—Meridian Opening. Misunderstood by almost everyone under the age of seventy. It is not a gate you blast open. It is a negotiation between the bodie's system. You ask your body to let power pass through it, not just into it.”

“Level Three—Core Gathering. This is where most of your generation begins to cheat. A core built from desperation or pressure is a collapsed lung waiting to happen. The purpose of the core is to only filter and store, but layer and translate.

He paused, letting that linger. "People always forget the second two. "

The Master continued. “The enhanced human really starts at level four. Level Four—Pulse Refinement. At this stage, it’s not about strength of your muscle. It’s about the harmony of your breath, your step, your strike—every motion must flow with your internal rhythm, not fight against it.”

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He stepped forward, drawing a clean arc in the air with two fingers.

“If your sword arm moves one way while your mana flows another, you’re creating drag inside your own body. That friction will block you. You’ll waste energy. You’ll stall your growth.”

Then, more pointedly:

“You’ll never break through until your meridians and mana flow are synchronized. Every strike must reinforce your flow—not interrupt it.”

“Level Five—Actual Awakening. You begin to exist beyond the edge of your skin. This is where power becomes visible to the causal obseserer, but still has no voice. Like heat from a forge—real, but silent.”

“Level Six—Intent Binding. The moment where cultivation shifts from reaction to projection. You do not learn to cut deeper. You learn to cut first—with thought, not motion.”

A few students blinked. One took notes.

Ethan’s eyes never moved from the speaker.

“Level Seven—Domain Formation. A mirage to most. True domains are not techniques—they are echoes of your inner world imposed upon the space around you. Those who fake this step often implode by the next.”

“Level Eight—Soul Tempering. You do not become stronger. You become clearer. Your fear, your memory, your rage—if they cannot survive the flame, neither can you.”

“Level Nine—Worldstep Threshold. The body prepares to leave the realm of mortals. Not through power. Through readiness. Through absence of contradiction.”

“And finally... Level Ten.”

MasterLan Huai turned in a slow circle.

“Spirit Crown. The Ascendant Gate. The place where the self aligns with its own truth—and is either accepted by the world... or burned from it. This represents an actual gate but only those who have walked though can actually understand”

A silence held the room like glass.

Then MasterLan Huai spoke again, voice lower.

“But all of these steps—all of them—are walked with one element alone: mana.”

“You believe it is the only power you can safely wield. The only energy the body can naturally shape. You believe the other forces—divine power, chaos energy, sage qi are either fables or forbidden things best left untouched.”

“That belief is not wrong. But it is incomplete.”

Now even the older students were watching him more carefully.

“There are those—few, rare, forgotten—who never cultivated with mana at all. They rose through divine attunement alone. Others who wield chaos like breath, dancing at the edge of madness. And still others… who listen to the world’s rhythm more deeply than any spell can teach.”

“They never walked the Human Path. But they reached the same heights. Perhaps higher.”

He looked back at Ethan.

“You have been brought here because the temper of this realm is imperfect. And the storm that comes will not care who practiced their enligthenment.”

“You may learn from the path. But do not worship it.”

The silence after MasterLan Huai's final statement stretched long and brittle.

Most of the students didn’t understand the implications. But they felt them.

Some lowered their heads, unsure whether to nod or frown. A few looked toward General Li, as if waiting for him to dismiss the old master. But the general only sat back, arms folded, watching.

Ethan still hadn’t moved.

MasterLan Huai exhaled slowly and walked once more around the center ring. His voice, when it returned, was quieter. Slower. As if he wasn’t just delivering a lesson—but issuing a warning.

“In the last decade, we’ve seen more early breakthroughs than any other generation on record. More Level Fives before the age of twenty five. More Domains projected before the soul has finished forming.”

He stopped.

“And yet… fewer Level Tens than ever before. Fewer true Ascendants.”

No one responded.

“That is not progress. That is hollowness. You cannot skip steps in the shaping of the self. Not without consequence.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the students.

“Core fractures. Soulspace instability. Pulse drift. You’ve heard of these. But you’ve dismissed them as rare anomalies—corner-case phenomena.”

“They are not rare anymore.”

He looked up. For the first time, there was emotion behind his gaze.

“They are multiplying.”

“In some sects, entire branches have collapsed under the weight of corrupted intent. Students rise fast. Shine bright. Burn out. Some lose control. Some lose self entirely.”

“We speak of ‘demonic corruption’ as if it were always external. As if it is something that finds you in the dark.”

“But what if it doesn’t find you?”

“What if you become it—by taking too much power too fast, with no truth to anchor it?”

Now several students were visibly uneasy.

A few scribes in the back began taking real notes.

“In every era, there are cracks in the framework. Leaks. Aberrations. Cultivators who rise outside the system—or beneath it.”

“The last time it happened, an entire generation was consumed. Not by war. Not by famine. By their own cores.”

He let the words hang.

“Your generation will face that same storm. Perhaps worse.”

He turned to General Li and offered a slight nod. The general gave no reply.

Then, slowly, Shen Duyi turned back toward the group—and fixed his eyes once again on Ethan.

“The system we follow is not wrong. But it is no longer sufficient.”

“If someone among you dares to study the map without assuming the map is the land—then perhaps the next generation will survive what’s coming.”

He stepped back from the center ring.

“That is all.”

Ethan rose last.

He didn’t say anything as the others filtered out. Didn’t look at MasterLan Huai. But as he left the chamber, his fingers twitched slightly—an unconscious motion, like he was already rearranging the world in his mind.