Nothing More Than Provisions

The morning light broke at dawn.

In the West Courtyard practice room, over twenty youths sat cross-legged on straw cushions, their spines held straight as arrows.

The instructor, Zhao Minglai, stood at the front with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over each youthful face like a hawk. He was around thirty-five or thirty-six, with thick brows and bright eyes, dressed in indigo training robes. The bronze talisman at his waist marked his status as a member of the Zhao Family. With his cultivation at the fifth level of Qi Refining, he was more than qualified to teach these newly initiated children.

"Cross your legs, palms facing the sky," he said, his voice low but each word striking like a nail into wood. "A single mistake here, and your energy channels will be off by an inch."

Several youths scrambled to adjust their postures, the rustling of straw cushions against the floor filling the room.

Zhao Minglai's gaze landed on the third row, left side, and paused for a brief moment.

The youth's posture was unpracticed, yet upon closer inspection, it possessed a certain natural rhythm.

Interesting, he thought, though his expression remained calm. He paced slowly to the youth's side, looking down at him with a scrutinizing eye.

The youth was Li Tui.

At this moment, he was attempting to refine the vital energy within his body.

"Empty your mind, forget your form, and focus your intent," a deep voice drifted into his ears.

Zhao Minglai stood beside him and continued, "Feel the vital energy gathering from your hundred bones, like streams returning to a river, like rivers returning to the sea. This is the starting point of refining essence into qi, and the foundation for drawing qi into the body later on."

Li Tui followed the instructions, slowing his breathing as his consciousness sank into his dantian.

Darkness.

Pure, void-like darkness.

Then, a tiny spark of light ignited deep within his spirit center. A cool, refreshing sensation descended slowly from the Baihui acupoint, like a trickle of melting snow in early spring, flowing along his meridians.

Wherever it passed, weary muscles relaxed and parched acupoints were moistened.

True Qi.

In his past life, this sensation would have dissipated within three breaths of entering his body. But now—

Five breaths.

Six breaths.

Seven breaths.

It actually completed a full cycle before slowly fading away.

"Not bad."

Zhao Minglai's voice sounded by his ear. Li Tui opened his eyes at the right moment, his face showing just the right amount of confusion and delight.

"How does it feel?"

"It felt cool," Li Tui said, his voice carrying the awkwardness of a youth, though his eyes were clear. "But I couldn't hold onto it; it scattered after a while."

Zhao Minglai nodded slightly. "It is no small feat to sense qi as a beginner. Practice diligently, and success will come naturally."

He turned and walked toward the next youth without another word.

That was enough. There was no need to be too outstanding.

At noon, the cafeteria was filled with the aroma of rice and stewed meat.

Beside long wooden tables, the youths held coarse ceramic bowls, heads buried as they shoveled down their food. Each person also had a small bowl of spirit rice porridge, the grains translucent and emitting a faint fragrance.

Li Tui sat in a corner, eating very slowly.

"Wang Yuan."

A voice came from his side. Li Tui didn't look up, continuing to put rice into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before turning his head to look.

It was Huang Bao, who had entered the manor in the same batch. He was thin and small, his complexion sallow and his eye sockets bruised—a clear sign of energy depletion caused by his inability to enter a meditative state for several days.

"I... I just can't seem to learn the Essence Refining Technique," Huang Bao said, rubbing his hands together, his voice extremely low. "Instructor Zhao has guided me twice, but I still can't feel the refined True Qi."

He paused, his gaze drifting toward the untouched bowl of spirit rice porridge beside Li Tui.

"I saw that you learned it quickly... could you... teach me?"

Li Tui set down his chopsticks.

He didn't speak, just watched Huang Bao quietly. His gaze was calm, yet it made Huang Bao feel an inexplicable chill.

"Didn't Instructor Zhao already teach you?" Li Tui asked after a long silence.

"He did, but I'm... I'm just slow," Huang Bao's face flushed red. "If this keeps up, I won't pass the end-of-month assessment..."

His voice choked off.

Li Tui continued to watch him calmly. Looking at those eyes reddened by desperation, that embarrassed appearance—it was so much like his own self in his past life.

But, so what?

"Why should I teach you?" Li Tui asked, his tone as flat as if he were asking about the weather.

Huang Bao froze. He opened his mouth, but words like "fellow villager" and "mutual support" felt pale and ridiculous under the other's calm gaze.

Silence spread.

The noise of the cafeteria became blurred and distant. Sweat beaded on Huang Bao's forehead; the opportunity was slipping through his fingers. This peer before him possessed a coldness that did not match his age.

Huang Bao gritted his teeth, his voice dropping even lower: "I... I'll give you all my spirit rice for these past few days. I only ask that you teach me."

Li Tui's gaze flickered.

He picked up his bowl again, picked up some vegetables, placed them in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Methodical and unhurried.

"The spirit rice is allocated to you by the Zhao Family to aid your cultivation," he said only after finishing his meal. "If you give it to me, what will you cultivate with?"

"It doesn't matter, I learn slowly, it's a waste for me to eat it anyway." Huang Bao grabbed Li Tui's sleeve, speaking urgently. "Just take it for now! If you manage to teach me, I'll share my future spirit rice with you too!"

A childish transaction.

But it was effective. When it came down to it, Li Tui only possessed Grade C aptitude; one could never have too many cultivation resources.

"Starting tomorrow, after daily practice, I will give you half an hour," Li Tui said slowly. "I will only take your spirit rice for seven days. If you haven't learned it by then, don't come looking for me again."

Huang Bao trembled all over, ecstatic: "Thank you, Big Brother! Thank you..."

"Also," Li Tui interrupted him, "you are not allowed to tell anyone about this. If anyone asks, just say we are fellow villagers exchanging pointers."

"I understand! I understand!"

Li Tui said nothing more, picked up the bowl of spirit rice porridge, and drank it in one gulp.

Warm, gentle spiritual energy dissolved in his belly, circulating along his meridians.

Seven days of spirit rice in exchange for a few hours of guidance. A fair trade; neither owed the other anything. Whether Huang Bao could learn it or not? That was not something he needed to consider.

The sunlight outside the window slanted westward, stretching his shadow long and casting it against the mottled brick wall. The shadow was silent, gaunt.

Amidst Huang Bao's endless thanks, Li Tui showed no reaction. He stood up to return the bowl and chopsticks, stepping under the veranda.

Not far away, the playful banter of youths drifted over, their voices bright and crisp, carrying a vitality that knew no restraint. The sounds drifted over, then faded, as if separated by a thick layer of glass. Li Tui could hear them, but he could not blend in.

Friendship? Gratitude?

Li Tui had never needed those intangible, untouchable things.

What he wanted had always been clear.

Nothing more than resources.