Guardian's Farm 27

“Where’s Sage?” he asked a while later, looking around.

“He’s patrolling the diseased area. He will alert me if there are more spies prepared to visit the area,” I explained.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous —” Eli gasped.

I cut him off with a gesture. “No, Sage is smart enough to handle the risks,” I said, confident in my judgment. “You don’t need to worry.”

“But —”

“No. Let’s focus on your training while we wait for him to return,” I said. It would be both a good way to utilize available opportunities, and a way to keep him distracted from everything.

Also, while he was still injured, I could see he had no intention of sitting down. It was better for him to move under my supervision than hurting himself on his own. “I want you to show me your fundamentals, but moving at quarter speed.”

He frowned. “Quarter speed, master. Is this because I’m injured?”

I chuckled. “Oh, you think that’s an easy training?” I asked.

“It’s not, master,” he replied, but it was clear that he didn’t believe it. It was just a lazy answer, to appease me.

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear,” I admonished him. “Tell me what you’re thinking. If I wanted you to echo everything I say, I wouldn’t bother speaking.”

“Sorry,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I … I think it’s easy,” he said.

“Good, start with the basic thrust,” I said and passed him the spear back. He repeated the order, only to fail spectacularly, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it. “Your basics are all over the place,” I corrected him. “The basic thrust doesn’t start from the shoulder, but…” I started.

“It starts from the feet, and the twist of the body travels across the body,” he replied automatically. His eyes widened. “The timing of my twist was off,” he commented.

“That was one of the mistakes,” I said, glad that he could point out one of his mistakes without me doing so. “Also, your free arm didn’t twist enough to give you the counter-weight, and your grip slipped quite a bit. Do it again.”

“Yes, master,” he said and repeated the move.

His movement was already better. Eli was a quick learner, which was one of the major reasons I accepted him as a student, along with his eagerness and my loneliness. “Slightly more bearable, but there’s still many mistakes,” I said. “Your grip is still too loose, and your shoulder twist is late.”

He blushed. “Sorry, master,” he said. “I thought I would be better.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I said. “Moving at quarter-step is very difficult.” He looked at me like he had trouble believing. I smiled at his disbelieving expression. I had a similar expression back when I was still a student. I grabbed a rock. “How do you draw a perfect line in the air with this rock?” I asked.

“Let it drop,” he answered.

“Exactly. Any move, in its ideal speed, is not unlike the drop of a rock, and carries its own rhythm. Slowing down breaks that rhythm and forces you to maintain control of every part of the move. It’s a good way to train.”

That would be even more relevant once he broke through the fourth stage and started manipulating his internal energy actively.

He nodded and repeated the slow attack again … and again. He was a good student, but of all his traits, his diligence was the best. I stood with him, raining him with far more corrections than I had during our earlier training sessions.

Back then, I was relaxed, as I assumed I had a year to turn him into a decent adventurer, one that would be able to deal with the rigors of the road. Now, I probably had weeks to turn him into an excellent one who could successfully escape a team of guards chasing after him.

Meaning the kid gloves were coming off.

I had to admit, I was worried that my constant critiques would affect his morale, but I soon learned that it was not a problem. “Take a break,” I said an hour later.

“I can still go on, master,” he replied in dedication. Maybe I had underestimated the partial reveal of my true identity.

“No, your focus is slipping,” I replied. “There are exercises that can benefit you if you repeat them until you collapse. This is not one of them. Sit down.”

He did so, and even obediently drank the vile mixture of plants I had passed him with no complaint. But, his flinch as he smelled was amusing. “Delicious, right?” I teased him. The mixture helped his recovery, but it tasted somewhere between death and vomit.

“Not exactly the word I would use, master,” he replied carefully.

“Try to keep it in. It doesn’t taste any better coming out,” I warned.

“Hard to imagine,” he answered, his tone the sharpest he ever used against me. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it a prank, master?” he asked.

That made me snicker even more. “Good thinking, but no. I’m not exactly a potion master. I can make some effective healing salves and mixtures, but making them taste good requires a professional apothecary.”

“Right,” he grimaced as he finished the mixture.

“I want you to sit down and meditate. Cross your legs, keep your spear on your lap, and focus on the heat of the sun on your skin,” I said. “I want you to memorize the way the sun dances on your skin, warms you from head to fingertips.”

He nodded.

While he dealt with that, I started moving around the homestead. I pumped water out of the well to water my crops, collected some green onions and mint, and added a giant boar leg from my pantry to start a stew. It would cook slowly, but it would be ready for Sage’s return.

When I finished it, Eli was still in his position, shuffling uncomfortably. “Are your wounds itching?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said as he opened his eyes. “It feels weird. Like it’s not just the wounds that are aching, but my muscles and bones,” he said.

“Is it centered in your chest?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

I paused. Could it be, I wondered to myself. “Keep your eyes closed, and keep calm if you feel anything weird,” I said. I moved to his back, crouched behind him, and put my hand on his back. “Keep your breathing stable. Deep breaths, slowly in and out. Match with me,” I said.

He repeated it. For a minute, I did nothing, just making sure our breathing matched before I touched my inner energy, and released the smallest sliver into him. The energy was gentle, formless, far different than anything I had used offensively.

It entered his body like a whisper, reaching his chest cavity … only to mix with another layer of energy, sitting calmly in him.

Internal energy. And, more than I had expected. That was a surprise, as before, he had no hint of development. Just an hour of practice and half an hour of practice shouldn’t have been enough for him to finally develop it.

But, I didn’t just assume I unearthed an unmatched genius. His last day or two was hardly ordinary. It was a known fact that close calls with death intensified internal energy generation, and all those medical herbs I had force-fed him yesterday and today helped as well.

Despite my surprise, I said nothing. The last thing I needed was to have him become agitated. The method I was using was not the safest. If he suddenly reacted, his internal energy would react, potentially with very bad results. Dangerous, maybe, I was neither a mage nor a healer, so I had to use some direct methods.

Only after I carefully pulled every scrap of energy I could back, I spoke again. “You can relax.” He turned to me, tense. “Good news. You have officially entered the first stage, and your body is generating internal energy,” I said.

His eyes widened, a smile blossoming on his face. “Really, master?” he said, his expression the brightest I had ever seen. “Then, can I learn the true techniques?”

“Not yet. We still need to work on developing your internal energy, and once it reaches a certain degree, we’ll focus on your sensing exercises. Only when you reach the second stage, will it be safe to practice the true moves.”

He looked thoughtful. “But I can sense it,” he commented.

“The itching?” I asked. He nodded. “No, that’s not sensing your internal energy. It’s just the sudden growth of energy, and your body’s reaction to it. True awareness is different. You’ll feel the energy just like it’s another arm.”

Technically, most people would treat a general awareness sufficient to move to the third stage, but that would only mean bigger problems in the third and fourth stages. Now that I was dedicated to teaching him truly, I had no intention of taking it slowly.

“Understood, master —” he replied, only to be interrupted by Sage returning with long dashes, growling in frustration.

“What? You discovered another disease spot?” I gasped. Sage nodded.

Things had just gotten more complicated.