46 Progress (1/2)

My success at shooting filled me with energy for the rest of the day. Within the daylight hours, I managed to shoot out a qi whip and retract it before it even started falling.

I spent most of the night meditating, disregarding any qi that I lost. Every three or so hours, I practised Qi Gong. The last day's training resulted in improved qi manipulation, translating well to my Qi Gong.

I could now move fast enough to take a step at walking speed. However, the force of the blast still rocked my body back, so I wasn't quite ready to make practical use of it yet.

With that, I had reached a passable level in the basic techniques and was ready to tackle the Extending Slice form. The prospect filled me with a healthy dose of apprehension.

I took some time before breakfast to become familiar with the stages of this technique. It was only when I started acting out the body position, that something clicked.

When I watched Crow perform the Extending Slice form, I had simply observed how he moved. But standing there, right arm high above my head with my left foot forward, I felt strangely comfortable.

The first step of this form was nearly identical to the bowling action in cricket. Growing up in England, cricket was a sport forced on me for many years.

Not only did I know how to do this first step, but I was quite good at it. Once I got the hang of transitioning wrist spinning to whole arm spinning, I could perform the first step by breakfast.

Now came the harder part; the second step. Standing in the courtyard, learning how to pirouette, was slightly embarrassing. Thankfully, Father saw it as martial arts practice and nothing more.

Pirouetting on my front foot like this was never a problem for me, but consistently stepping out in the right direction was. With that said, the bare skin of my feet started to burn after only a few attempts.

At home, I tended to wear plain charcoal grey trousers and a loose shirt, rolling up my sleeves as was habit from my past life, but I nearly always walked around barefoot.

I went back to the house and put on the shoes I wore at school. They were ankle-high, leather-soled boots made of a tough black cloth. They lacked support and acted more like socks with how tightly I wrapped them around my feet.

It was customary to tuck your trousers into your shoes in this world, as clothes hung quite loose. Elasticated clothing wasn't a thing, and people in town often wore many sashes and belts to keep everything in place.

After I head back to the patio, I continued to train the second step. By midday, I could perform both steps independently, however, I couldn't spin my whip during the second step yet.

The second step functioned to lead the whips momentum in the right direction and bring it under control. Without the first step to start, the whip just trailed lazily behind.

Already, it was time to piece the two steps together. Father came to watch this first attempt, and it was more successful than I had anticipated.

My movements were robotic and stuttering, and the whip struck the floor in front of me, but I managed to get through both steps.

After hours of practise and plenty of Father's advice, by the end of the day, I could confidently execute the Extending Slice form. It was still a little stunted, but probably usable in combat.

That night, I attempted to make practical use of my Qi Gong. Now I could perform a step, I wanted to use the qi blast to reposition my body. There wasn't enough space in my room, so I quietly snuck out to the patio.

Training in the serene stillness and darkness of night was invigorating. I started by learning to catch my balance before trying to move any distance.

It was quite damaging training, as each time I fell, my body slammed into the hard flagstones. But as dawn of this last morning arrived, I accomplished my goal.

By shooting a qi blast from one leg, then catching myself with another qi blast, I could dash about fifteen feet. I had to reinforce my legs with more qi to do this, otherwise, my knees would blow out from the impact.

I decided to call this technique 'Forceful Steps.' There was probably a real name for it out there, but it felt good to assert some ownership over an ability I had formed.

There remained one last trial before my training was complete; to get actual combat experience. I refined the Extending Slice form in the morning, before asking Father to spar with me.

He gleefully agreed, excited to finally have a fight with his son, ”I won't use any techniques to fight you,” he asserted, ”but I will still be far stronger than the kids you're going to face.”

”Don't go too easy on me.”

”Oh no,” he smiled and cracked his knuckles, ”I won't.”