Chapter 37
He looked at Weiyang with a small smile.
"You're not its child."
A brief pause.
"But you are… like it."
Weiyang frowned. "Don't say things I won't understand."
Elder Gu's smile deepened just slightly. "You will."
"When?"
"When you grow."
Weiyang waved him off. "Yeah, yeah."
But Elder Gu didn't reply.
His gaze lingered on the boy for a moment longer, something deeper settling behind his eyes.
You're not the son of the sun, he thought quietly.
…You're the child of its blessing.
And for once—
He said nothing out loud.
Weiyang looked at him, a slight frown forming. "So you won't teach me?"
Elder Gu shook his head gently. "I will teach you everything you ask of me. But controlling qi… shouldn't you make good use of your teacher? He is the best teacher for you, my child."
Weiyang went quiet for a moment, his gaze lowering.
My life's so weird…
I wonder if I would ever get bored of the world just like that…
A faint breath left him.
I hope I am like the sun.
Protecting. Giving. Bright. Warm.
He lifted his head again, and just like that, his bright smile returned. "Of course. And you know I've practiced Wind Rustle formation to all ten levels."
Elder Gu nodded. "Well done."
Weiyang's eyes lit up a little more. "You remember, right? If I did it, you'd teach me a new fa."
Elder Gu stroked his beard lightly. "You will learn it. But you need to rest and eat for now. I will teach you from next week."
Weiyang immediately pouted. "But why next week?"
"You will understand tomorrow."
Weiyang raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow? Why?"
"It's late," Elder Gu said calmly. "Practice Wind Rustle fa and Qinggong. Practice these properly every day till next week… dear sun."
Weiyang frowned instantly. "I told you not to call me that."
Elder Gu smiled. "I call you that because you make people shine, just like the way you shine, Weiyang."
Weiyang clicked his tongue. "That's only you who thinks that. Not others, Shifu."
Elder Gu's expression didn't change. "Does it matter? Are you not happy that at least one person cares and looks after you?"
Weiyang hesitated. "That's… not what I meant, Shifu… I… I've heard them."
The words came out quieter than before.
Elder Gu stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Let them say what they want. It doesn't matter at all. You have friends who like you, who want you to be strong, dear sun."
His voice softened slightly.
"You are like a sun in everyone's life… at least in mine, Weiyang. Don't let yourself fall because of others' lousy words. Think about my words whenever you hear them again."
For a moment—
The past echoed.
Yaksha…
Demon…
Where are his parents…?
He must have killed them too…
Elder Gu shook him lightly.
Weiyang blinked, snapping back.
Then he smiled again—bright, almost blinding. "Yes, Shifu Gu."
Elder Gu nodded. "Good. Have a peaceful night."
And just like that—
He vanished.
Weiyang watched the empty space for a second, still smiling. "Bye, Shifu."
Then he stretched, placing a hand over his stomach. "Ahh… I'm so full. I'll sleep well tonight."
He stepped back and began practicing.
Wind Rustle.
The air around him shifted softly, moving in controlled currents as his body flowed through each motion. Then Qinggong—light, precise, his steps barely touching the ground as if he was becoming part of the air itself.
A few more movements.
Then he stopped.
"That's enough…"
He walked to his bed and dropped onto it, the mattress dipping under his weight. "I'll see what tomorrow is…"
His voice faded.
Sleep came instantly.
The room fell silent.
Then—
A faint golden glow appeared at the window.
Small.
Soft.
But alive.
It slipped through the opening like a thread of sunlight and floated toward him, slow and deliberate. When it reached him—
It touched his chest.
And disappeared.
As if it had entered him.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then—
Light began to spread from within his body.
At first, it was gentle.
A soft shimmer beneath his skin.
Then it grew.
Brighter.
Warmer.
Golden light radiated outward, filling the room, spilling through the window into the night outside. People passing by stopped, shielding their eyes as the glow intensified, the entire area illuminated like dawn had arrived in the middle of the night.
Inside—
Weiyang slept peacefully.
Unaware.
But the light around him began to change.
It gathered.
Condensed.
Focused over his chest.
Slowly—
Shape began to form.
Not rough.
Not incomplete.
But precise.
Beautiful.
The golden energy curved and molded itself like flowing metal, layering over his chest in smooth, seamless lines. It wasn't heavy—it moved like light itself, yet held the presence of something unbreakable.
An armor.
Not forged—
Born.
At its center, the glow intensified further, concentrating into a symbol.
The sun.
But not just a simple mark.
It had depth.
Layers.
Radiance.
Circular at its core, yet surrounded by soft, flowing extensions of light that resembled rays—each one delicate, yet powerful, like they could burn and warm at the same time. The edges shimmered faintly, as if alive, pulsing with a quiet energy.
It was beautiful.
Brilliant.
A perfect embodiment of warmth and power.
The armor covered his entire chest, fitting him perfectly, as if it had always belonged there—like it recognized him.
Outside, the light continued to shine.
Inside—
Weiyang didn't move.
Didn't wake.
He simply slept—
Peaceful.
As the sun itself seemed to rest within him.
The next morning did not begin gently.
It began with weight.
Ten kilograms of it—resting on their raised arms, pressing down into bone and muscle like a silent punishment that refused to ease.
The forest stretched endlessly around them, thick with towering trees and uneven ground, roots twisting across the earth like traps waiting to catch their feet. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in broken shards, flickering across their faces as they ran.
They were already exhausted.
Sweat clung to their skin, sliding down their temples, soaking their collars, dripping from their chins. Their breaths came uneven—too fast, too heavy.
Still—
They ran.
Yinghua was in front, her long dark pink hair sticking to her back, her teal eyes narrowed in determination despite the strain. Her arms trembled violently under the weight of the log above her head, but she refused to lower it.
Beside her, Wei Zhi moved with tighter control, her expression colder, more contained—but her fingers were stiff, her grip tightening every few seconds as if she was forcing her body to obey.
Behind them—
Wuming.
Silent.
Focused.
His steps were sharp, controlled, but even he couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders, the faint tremor in his arms.
And then—
Weiyang.
Running like his life depended on it.
His orange-blond hair caught the sunlight with every step, flashing gold as he moved, his expression twisted between frustration and stubborn refusal to slow down.
Behind them—
Something moved.
A long, glistening body slid across the forest floor.
A white snake.
Its scales shimmered like polished jade under the light, each movement smooth, almost elegant. Its teal eyes gleamed with a strange intelligence, fixed on them as it followed—not with effort, but with ease.
It was hunting.
Or rather—
Chasing.
And above it—
Sat Lin Yi.
Cross-legged.
Completely at ease.
As if he were seated on a quiet platform instead of a moving creature.
In his hands rested a thick book.
The Rays of the Sovereign.
The pages turned slowly beneath his fingers, his silver eyes reflecting faint light as they moved across the text. His long black hair shifted gently with the motion of the snake, but his posture remained perfectly still.
Untouched.
Detached.
A world away from the chaos below.
The snake's tongue flicked out—
Fast.
Wet.
Smack.
It struck Weiyang's shoulder.
He jolted. "Ugh—what the hell is that?!"
Lin Yi didn't look up.
"Be careful," he said calmly, turning a page. "It's very stinky."
Another strike—
This time Yinghua.
She gasped, nearly losing her balance.
"And it won't go away till next week."
Wei Zhi snapped, her voice sharp despite her breathlessness, "What the hell are you doing this for?!"
Lin Yi's eyes didn't lift from the book.
"Run faster."
That was all.
The snake moved again, its tongue lashing out, leaving behind a faint, sticky sheen wherever it touched.
They had already been hit.
Five times.
Each.
And the smell—
It lingered.
Disgusting.
Clinging.
Unavoidable.
Weiyang groaned loudly, his arms shaking harder now. "This is torture!"
But he sped up anyway.
They all did.
Because slowing down meant getting hit again.
Wei Zhi's jaw tightened as she ran—
And her mind flickered back.
To earlier.
When this had started.
They had been standing in the clearing, waiting.
One hour.
Two.
Weiyang had been pacing. "Is he even coming?!"
Yinghua had sighed, already tired. "I'm losing energy just waiting…"
Wei Zhi had stayed quiet—
Until she noticed Yinghua struggling.
Even standing still.
Each of them had been holding the logs.
Ten kilograms.
Arms raised.
No rest.
Then—
Lin Yi had appeared.
Without sound.
Without apology.
"The log weighs ten kilograms," he had said.
Weiyang had scoffed. "We noticed."
Lin Yi continued anyway. "When you train Tai Chi Quan… or any fist technique… your strikes will carry weight."
He had tapped the log lightly.
"Your palms will feel heavier. Strong techniques demand stronger foundations."
Yinghua had groaned. "We need to move our hands to even perform Quan… how are we supposed to do that after this?"
Lin Yi's expression hadn't changed.
"At this rate," he said calmly, "I doubt any of you will be able to use it properly by next week."
Back to now—
Weiyang gritted his teeth, breath ragged.
"…So this is what Elder Gu meant…"
Another strike—
He dodged.
Barely.
Wuming sped up beside him, voice low but firm. "Focus."
"I am focused!" Weiyang snapped back.
Ahead, Yinghua stumbled—
Caught herself—
Kept running.
Wei Zhi adjusted her grip again, her arms trembling violently now.
Above them—
Another page turned.
Lin Yi's voice drifted down, calm as ever.
"Faster."
The snake hissed softly.
Its body gliding effortlessly.
Its tongue ready to strike again.
And beneath it—
Four students ran like they were being chased by something far worse than exhaustion.
Because they were.
The forest did not relent, nor did the weight, nor did the quiet tyranny of motion that demanded continuation without mercy; and so they ran, not merely with their legs, but with whatever remained of will that had not yet been eroded by strain. It is a curious thing—how the body protests loudly at first, like a child denied comfort, and then, finding no audience to its complaints, grows silent and obedient, leaving only a dull persistence behind. In that silence, a person either breaks… or becomes something sharper.
Weiyang, who had begun the run with noise and protest, now ran with teeth clenched and breath burning in his throat, his earlier words swallowed by necessity. There was no space for complaint when the air itself felt heavy, when the arms above him trembled so violently that the log seemed less like wood and more like judgment. And yet—he moved faster. Not because he could, but because he refused not to. There is a difference, subtle yet decisive.
Yinghua's steps had grown uneven, but her spirit had not. She ran as one who argues with her own limits—not loudly, not rebelliously, but persistently, like water pressing against stone. Her fingers had gone numb long ago, yet she adjusted her grip again, as if reminding her body that surrender had not been permitted. There was a quiet dignity in her struggle, the kind that does not announce itself, yet endures longer than noise ever could.
Wei Zhi ran beside her, her expression unchanged, though her breath betrayed her. She did not complain, not because she did not feel, but because she refused to grant pain the authority to define her. There are those who resist loudly, and those who resist by becoming immovable; she was the latter. Yet even stone, when placed under enough weight, begins to understand the language of pressure.
End of 37