A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

I smashed into the fountain hard enough to send a spray of water arcing over the courtyard. The cold bit into my body as I tumbled out of the basin and hit the flagstones with a wet thwack.

"You disgrace." Gorran's voice felt like it was cutting into me. "You've always been good at one thing: staying down."

I dragged in a breath. My lungs burned, my paws trembled, and my chest felt like someone had stuffed gravel under my fur. But still, I pushed myself upright.

"You're talking too much," I rasped, water dripping from my muzzle.

"You fight too little." He stepped forward, paws clicking against the stone. "You do not belong here. You barely even have a place in our blood."

That one hit harder than the fountain.

Something in my chest tightened, but I didn't stop. My paws found purchase. My legs locked. And before Gorran could open his mouth again, I lunged.

This time, he didn't even move to block me. The color of his fur changed instead, silver melting into an obsidian black. His Awakening flared to life; it was called the Iron Fortress by allies and foes alike.

He became a wall. A mountain.

"Go on, mutt," he said flatly, flexing his claws. "Throw yourself against me again. Let's see how many times you can humiliate yourself."

Something inside me snapped and my Qi moved. It felt raw, alive; a surge that made my paws tingle and my fur bristle.

My forehead collided with his like a battering ram.

A muffled sound vibrated through my skull. Pain lanced down my neck, but I didn't fall.

But Gorran moved. Just a step.

It was more than enough to break his ego.

He stumbled back, paws scuffing the stone. His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before narrowing into a deadly glare.

"You—" He blinked hard, as if trying to shake off the dizziness. "You hurt me?"

His pride bled through every word. The great Gorran, the Mountain that Never Remembers, wounded by the family embarrassment.

I braced. His claws extended fully now, gleaming like sharpened onyx.

"You'll regret that." His voice was low, lethal.

He took a step forward, ready to swing at me—

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The voice cracked like thunder across stone. Grand Solar Vicar Talem stood at the far end, sunlight catching the hem of his white-gold robes. His staff gleamed like a captured sunrise, and his gaze burned hotter than any flame.

Both of us stopped.

His eyes swept between me and Gorran, unreadable and heavy.

Gorran's claws slowly curled back in. His fur lightened, silver seeping back, and he took one deliberate step away.

I stayed still for a moment longer, catching my breath. The fountain's spray had cooled my face, but warmth, an entirely different heat, still pooled deep in my belly.

Dust and shards of marble settled on my back, and sunlight danced on the wet flagstones around me. My heart hammered like war drums.

When at last the chaos inside my head quieted down a bit, I realized I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

Beside me, Gorran shook off dust and bits of stone. Even from here, I could see his eyes were wide and furious. But even Gorran fell silent when Talem's voice rang out again. "I asked you both a question," Talem repeated. "What is the meaning of this?"

I opened my mouth and closed it. The words choked on my tongue like a bitter herb.

The commotion had spilled into the basilica's outer hall, and now nobles and merchants alike pressed around the marble pillars, craning to see what had upset the order of ceremony.

A few high priests from the conservative faction turned with thinly veiled disapproval toward the big, squat figure at the center of attention.

I felt their scowls like a physical weight on my shoulders. I didn't speak and just simply met with Gorran's gaze.

Gorran cleared his throat loudly. "Let it be heard," he snapped, "that this… this mutt, has the gall to stand among us in the Church?! A mutt's place is on the street, not on the dais!"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

I couldn't help but feel my ears flatten. I stared at Gorran, completely in disbelief.

'Was he really saying this? Right now?'

I tried to process the insult.

Gorran had always been blunt, and I knew that politics wasn't his strong suit, but really?

In front of all these nobles and merchants?

Even Gorran couldn't be that stupid… could he?

But Gorran kept ranting, pride in his tone as he extolled the purity of their divine bloodline and how I supposedly sullied it. He spouted every highborn platitude he knew as his voice boomed off the stone walls.

And all the while, the conservative priests exchanged stunned looks. They never would have dared voice such words themselves—I was, after all, still the direct son of Lady Aurelith, but here was one of their champions, Gorran, gleefully doing it for them.

I don't know when my anger drained away.

Maybe it was somewhere between Gorran's third mention of "the sacredness of our lineage" and his fifth dramatic flourish about "divine purity." Or maybe it was the way the conservative high priests were slowly losing all the color in their faces, standing there like statues who'd just been told they were about to be replaced by more sensible statues.

Either way, I wasn't angry anymore.

I was… entertained.

This was new for me. Normally, when my brother spoke, I felt my stomach twist into a knot. But right now? Right now, as he stood there in the center of the courtyard, ranting about how I "polluted" the church just by breathing, I felt something unexpected rising in my chest.

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Laughter.

Oh no.

My lips twitched before I could stop them.

Gorran didn't notice. Of course he didn't. He was too busy pacing back and forth in front of the assembled crowd like a possessed preacher.

"...and what of our mother's legacy?" he barked. "Would she have wanted this mongrel, this shambling shadow of a godbeast, to represent her bloodline?"

Murmurs rippled through the nobles. A few covered their mouths. A merchant in the back looked like he was considering faking a faint just to escape.

After all, what he was doing was tantamount to heresy.

And the conservative priests… oh, bless their robed, sweating hearts. They weren't even trying to hide their horror now. One of them was biting their own nails to the point it started to look quite red. Another was clutching his prayer beads so tightly I half expected them to snap.

I almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

Gorran's voice rose higher, angrier. "This mutt dares to stand here among the faithful, wearing our crest, as though he belongs—"

He stopped abruptly.

Because he saw me smiling.

This was a slow, easy grin that said: Please, brother. Go on. Dig deeper.

Gorran froze mid-sentence, his mouth still open. He blinked once. Twice.

"What are you smiling at?" he snarled, voice cracking just slightly.

I didn't answer.

Because honestly? I didn't need to.

Behind him, one of the high priests finally moved. A portly man with a crimson sash stepped forward, his face pale as wax. "This is… enough," he muttered, waving a trembling hand at the gathered nobles. "Please, everyone, return to the hall. There will be… there will be an announcement shortly."

The crowd hesitated. Another conservative priest, a wiry man with sharp cheekbones, pressed his fingers to his temple and let out a low groan. "Saints preserve us," he whispered. "The political fallout from this…"

Talem, on the other hand, looked delighted.

Absolutely, radiantly delighted.

He looked like a man who had just been handed a perfectly wrapped gift with a bow on top and then discovered there was a second gift hidden inside.

He tapped his staff once on the flagstones, and the sound rang out like a bell. "Ahem. Ahem."

Silence swept the courtyard.

"Due to… certain unexpected events," Talem announced smoothly, "we shall delay today's award ceremony." His golden eyes swept over the crowd, twinkling. "This will allow us time to clean up, and of course, to prepare."

I swore I saw one of the conservative priests flinch.

Talem turned to me. "Come, Pophet," he said lightly. "Walk with me."

Calm. Leisurely. Talem walked as though he hadn't just witnessed the next biggest political disaster my brother had unleashed in front of everyone.

I padded along behind him, trying not to let my paws scuff the marble.

"Grand Solar Vicar," I started, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why did you call for me to attend the ceremony?"

Talem didn't break stride. "I did not."

I nearly tripped over my own paws. "What…?"

It wasn't a question so much as an unintentional whimper.

"I assumed you called for me," I continued. "But now that I think about it… they never explicitly said it was you."

There was a long pause.

Talem's smile curved sharper. "Ah."

And then he laughed.

"Oh," he said between chuckles, "how utterly delicious. Of course they didn't say it was me."

I felt my stomach drop. "Then why—"

"They wanted you here."

"They?"

"The conservatives." Talem's voice was light, almost conversational, but there was steel beneath it. "They arranged this little ceremony, hoping to parade their chosen heirs before the Church's eyes."

I frowned. "Chosen heirs?"

"Vaelric. Saphiel. Gorran." Talem counted them off on long fingers. "Each strong. Each disciplined. Each, in their eyes, an ideal candidate to take up Lady Aurelith's mantle."

I didn't miss the pause before the next words.

"They see you differently."

My tail twitched. "Because I'm weak?"

"Because you're different," Talem corrected gently. "You don't fit their vision of divine succession. Vaelric burns with fire and duty; Saphiel has the quiet strength of the earth; and Gorran… well, Gorran inspires fear. That's enough for their purposes."

"And me?"

"You," Talem said, his golden eyes glinting, "make them nervous. They can't decide whether you're a liability or a threat."

I let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I'm not much of a threat."

"Mm." Talem tilted his head, studying me as though I were a book he'd read before. "You weren't. Until today."

We walked in silence for a few steps. My mind was racing.

"So this was all… what? A setup?" I asked finally. "They wanted me to stand there like a decorative lump so Gorran would look better by comparison?"

"Exactly." Talem's smile sharpened. "It was meant to be a subtle humiliation. One they could claim was unintentional."

"But then," I said slowly, "Gorran opened his mouth."

"And handed me a gift." Talem chuckled, low and warm. "He said aloud what the conservatives have only ever whispered behind closed doors. In front of nobles. Merchants. High clergy. Even the most zealous conservatives can't excuse that level of idiocy."

I swallowed hard.

"It backfired wonderfully," Talem corrected cheerfully. "And now, they're scrambling to patch their robes before the stain sets."

There was a faint satisfaction in his voice that made me glance at him sideways.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked.

"Because you need to understand the board before you can play the game." Talem's gaze softened slightly. "You've been walking through this world like a pawn, Pophet. But pawns have power too, if they learn how to move."

With those words, Talem returned to the main halls.

The sun had already dipped lower by the time I escaped to the garden.

From somewhere deeper in the Basilica, I could hear muffled applause drifting through the arches. Polite. Short-lived.

Gorran's ceremony had continued.

Except, according to the whispering acolytes scurrying past the herb beds, it hadn't gone as planned.

Apparently, some of the conservatives had begun pulling back their open support. Not publicly, of course—they weren't that brave. But now, there were no longer any promises of patronage nor any extravagant gifts from them placed at his paws.

Gorran, I imagined, was not taking it well.

And in some quiet, petty part of me, I was enjoying that thought far more than a good brother probably should.

I exhaled and stared at the sky.

The Qi inside me hummed faintly. I could faintly feel a circle of light pulsing behind my ribs. It wasn't hot or sharp the way I'd remember my owner muttering about when reading cultivation novels.

Mine felt still. Heavy.

Like I was a stone at the bottom of a pond, water swirling above me but never touching me directly.

It wasn't unpleasant. Just… strange.

But I came to an epiphany now. Breathing was everything.

Breath was life. Breath was presence. Breath was the echo of energy.

The next day.

"You!"

A loud voice cut through the garden's peace like a blade.

I turned my head to see Gorran striding toward me, his fur bristling and his eyes blazing.

"Brother," I said flatly.

"You've humiliated me," he spat.

"Correction: you humiliated yourself."

"They're pulling back their support," Gorran growled. "Do you think I don't know why?"

"Yes," I said. "Because you don't."

Gorran's claws dug into the marble path. "Enough games. I issue you a challenge."

I blinked. "A challenge?"

"The Rite of Proven Blood. A test of honor between godbeasts. A duel to prove one's worth as heir."

I stared. "You're being dramatic."

"Refuse if you like," he sneered. "It will only prove what I've always said—you're weak. Unworthy. Just like Rinvara."

The world went still.

"What did you say?" My voice was low, but it rumbled in my chest like a distant storm.

Gorran smirked. "Just like Rinvara, who couldn't even survive—"

The sound that left my throat was not words.

It was a growl.

"Fine," I said, my fangs bared. "You want a duel? You've got one."

"One month," Gorran said coldly. "Prepare yourself, if you can."

He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving claw marks in the marble.

I stood there, breath heaving, the Qi in my body circulating faster now.