006 Home in the Canopy

It had been a few weeks since I made my home in this forest. I had settled into a comfortable routine. Each morning I would wake up, stretch my limbs, and slip into Wild Shape. Flying through the canopy as a bird turned out to be the most exhilarating part. The wind rushing through my feathers, the vast green sea below me, it felt incredibly freeing.

Sometimes, I switched things up with other forms. A nimble squirrel racing along branches or a silent panther stalking through the undergrowth. While exploring, I diligently mapped the area inside my head, memorizing every stream, clearing, and ancient tree.

The forest was never quiet. Birds sang bright melodies overhead while monkeys chattered and whooped in the distance. “Krr-krr-krr!” a bright red parrot would call from high above. Smaller creatures rustled through the leaves with soft scuttling sounds, and occasionally a deep, throaty roar echoed from deeper in the woods, reminding me that not everything here was friendly.

By lunch I would return and join Xing Ning. I stuck to fruits and vegetables while he ate whatever he had managed to catch or forage. One day he proudly presented two wild chickens he had hunted.

“These look excellent, Xing Ning. You are getting better at this every day,” I said with genuine appreciation.

He beamed, chest puffed out with pride. “Thank you, Senior. I used the new snare technique you suggested and waited perfectly still for over an hour. They never saw me coming. I paid my respects to their spirits afterward, just as you taught me.”

In the first few days, I had been rather unintentionally harsh with the young man. He forced himself to eat only fruits and vegetables because he worried he might offend me by consuming meat in front of me.

As a Qi Condensation realm cultivator, Xing Ning was still essentially mortal and needed proper nutrients to stay strong.

When I learned how much he’d been restricting himself, I told him it was fine for him to eat meat. Out of respect for me, he asked me what could he do, so that it wouldn’t bother me. That was how I ended up telling him to respect the hunt, something that Nevle Drol Diurdhcra would’ve approved of.

After lunch, Xing Ning would teach me about cultivation using whatever knowledge his realm allowed him to share. With his patient guidance I slowly learned more about this strange new world. Through those lessons I discovered something unsettling. I was completely incapable of traditional cultivation. I had no energy gathered in my dantian and no spiritual root at all, something Xing Ning found extremely strange and almost unheard of.

In exchange for his lectures, I helped him with his training through sparring sessions or whatever advice I felt confident giving. I was careful to only offer suggestions based on my own observations or game knowledge from my old life. After all, I was not a cultivator myself. I could only guide him as a supportive senior with a different perspective.

By night we would share another simple meal, exchange a few stories, and then drift off to sleep inside the living tree house. The gentle sway of the branches and the soft chorus of nocturnal insects created the perfect lullaby.

For the first time in both my lives, I felt a deep sense of peace and belonging.

This world wasn’t so bad, after all.

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[POV: Xing Ning]

Like his senior, Xing Ning had also settled into a comfortable routine over the past few weeks. Each morning he rose early and moved through the forms of the Tempest Steel Sword Art beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. His blade danced in precise arcs, cutting through imaginary foes while the forest watched in quiet approval. Before lunch he would venture out on a hunt, moving silently through the undergrowth with his senses extended.

One clear morning he brought down a sturdy boar with a single clean thrust. He knelt beside the fallen animal, blood still warm on his sword, and spoke softly with sincere respect.

“Thank you for your life, noble boar. Your strength will nourish me, and I will not waste this gift. May your spirit find peace in the cycle of the forest.”

He cleaned his sword with careful strokes, mindful of the boar’s sacrifice. He had promised Senior he would pay proper respect to every hunt, and he intended to keep that promise without fail.

By afternoon, he would exchange pointers with Senior. Those sessions had quickly become the highlight of his day. Senior never taught traditional cultivation techniques. Instead, he offered something far more practical and unsettling in its simplicity.

“Combat is not about being stronger or faster,” Senior explained one afternoon as they sparred in a small clearing. “It is about doing the thing your opponent does not want you to do. If he expects you to strike high, go low. If he braces for power, give him speed and angles instead. Make him react to you, never the other way around.”

Xing Ning wiped sweat from his brow and nodded thoughtfully. “But Senior, what if the opponent is simply much stronger? Does technique even matter then?”

Senior smiled faintly and tapped his staff on the ground. A thick vine suddenly whipped out and tangled Xing Ning’s ankle, pulling him off balance.

“Even the strongest opponent has limits,” Senior replied calmly while Xing Ning struggled to regain his footing. “Your job is to find those limits and make them hurt. Power without direction is just noise.”

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Every day felt both familiar and refreshingly different from life back at the sect. If Xing Ning had to be honest with himself, he might really appreciated the freedom here. He could train however he wished, hunt when he wanted, and speak openly with a senior who answered questions without judgment or hidden motives. The thought made him feel a twinge of guilt. Senior had been so accommodating, even allowing him to eat meat in his presence. It was not unheard of for cultivators to abstain from meat if it tied into their cultivation. Some sects even forbade relationships or other pleasures entirely. Yet Senior never made him feel ashamed for his needs.

When night arrived, Xing Ning still had plenty of boar meat left from the morning hunt, so he did not need to venture out again. He sat by the crackling campfire and watched Senior work his magic. With gentle gestures and murmured words, Senior shaped living wood into smooth pieces, forming what looked like a board and carved figures.

It always amazed Xing Ning how effortlessly Senior commanded plant life, as though the trees and vines were simply extensions of his own body.

After finishing his meal, Xing Ning cleaned up after himself and set the remains aside with care. Senior looked up from his work with a small, curious smile.

“Ever played chess?” Senior asked.

Xing Ning tilted his head. He understood that Senior was shaping some form of board game. He knew of chess, though the version Senior described sounded quite different from the strategy games he had learned in the sect.

They played well into the night.