A Song For The Ages

As Feiyin stepped beyond the Breeder's corpse, the world around him shifted once more. The battlefield cleared, revealing a tranquil, crystalline chamber lit by a gentle, silvery light. The air shimmered with stillness, and at the heart of the space floated a single orb, pale as moonlight and softly humming with power.

His breath caught.

The atmosphere here was different, not heavy, not intense. Instead, it carried a tranquility that resonated with his very core. No enemies waited in ambush. No illusions clawed at his mind. Only peace. A quiet place, untouched by malice.

He stepped forward, cautious but calm. The orb hovered just above an altar of white stone, engraved with swirling constellations and strange characters that pulsed faintly. As he approached, the orb responded. The silver glow brightened and pulsed in time with his breath, as if recognizing him. Inviting him.

When his fingers brushed the orb, warmth bloomed through his palm and surged up his arm. The light seeped into him, not in a sudden flood, but in a slow, methodical stream. It flowed into his meridians with precision, cleansing, expanding, nourishing. This was no ordinary essence. It was pure, unblemished by the usual wildness or violent oscillations of the ambient environment. It was refined, calm, balanced.

Feiyin sank into a seated position, crossing his legs, letting the sensation carry him. He knew this was a gift.

This was the reward of the trial, not an artifact or weapon, but the chance to refine himself with essence unlike any he had ever encountered. This essence didn't just fill his dantian; it danced with his own qi, harmonizing perfectly. It moved with understanding.

He guided it into his acupoints, first the unopened ones, pushing them gently open with the mild pressure of the silver flow. Each opening came with a soft pulse of warmth, not pain. It was like blooming flowers in early spring.

One by one, the acupoints responded, blooming open under his direction.

Fifty-six.

Fifty-seven.

Fifty-eight.

His breath slowed, deepened. His three dantians thrummed with resonance, perfectly synchronized with the flow of essence pouring through his body. The pure, silvery energy caressed each channel, guiding his awareness like a gentle tide.

Sixty.

Seventy.

The ache in his muscles intensified, not from resistance but from the sheer scale of transformation taking place. He endured it silently, brow slick with sweat, his body glowing faintly under the pressure of change.

Eighty.

Ninety.

Each new acupoint came with a rush of heat, then relief. He focused his breath, aligning his oscillation sense with his spiritual sense, harmonizing flow and intention.

Ninety-five.

Ninety-six… Ninety-seven…

The essence surged faster now, responding to his acceptance, pushing him forward. Every sensation around him sharpened, the tremor of energy in the stone floor, the quiet resonance of runes, the distant pulse of the formation beneath the chamber.

Ninety-eight.

Ninety-nine.

Finally,

One hundred.

The hundredth acupoint burst open with a quiet radiance, and Feiyin exhaled, his breath steady and slow. A wave of silence spread across his body, as his tensed muscles relaxed. The essence properties were mild and pure, but his body still had limits, and taking too much of a good thing at once could be detrimental.

The orb's light faded into nothing, its gift fully delivered. Feiyin remained seated, allowing the expanded channels and refined qi to settle, letting his body adapt.

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A hundred open acupoints. To think that he nearly doubled his opened acupoints with only the first reward.

I wonder how far I can reach in this ruin

He sat in silence for a time, letting the essence settle, letting his body relax as the essence qi within him regained its calm. And slowly, the tremble faded. A quiet strength flowed within him, not fiery and violent, but deep and steady.

Feiyin opened his eyes.

The orb had vanished. The chamber dimmed to a pale glow, and the exit door shimmered into view, as if waiting for him to continue.

He stood, rolled his shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, smiled faintly. He was genuinely happy that he could speed up his progress by more than a month, yet a part of his mind remained fixed on the experience.

If I could replicate that type of essence with pills, how much more progress could we make?

He thought deeply, pacing slowly around the fading glow of the chamber. Then, his eyes turned toward the newly revealed door, faintly outlined in ethereal shimmer. Steeling himself, Feiyin stepped through.

The world shifted again.

Light bent and blurred, and the ground vanished beneath his feet. For a heartbeat, he was nowhere, and then he found himself standing inside a massive stone hall.

This time, the space resembled an ancient courtroom, built of dark marble and lined with carved columns. Seated before him were two neighbors, arguing loudly while gesturing with frustration. Between them stood a modest boundary marker that was already straining to seperate them.

Feiyin felt a subtle nudge to his mind, not words, but an instinct, making him understand that this was a trial of judgment. Of fairness. He was to act as an arbiter, to deliver a ruling that balanced truth and wisdom.

Internally, he blinked with surprise. Of all the trials he had imagined, this was not one he expected, to sit in a position of authority, where weapons were left in favor of words that could sway the outcome. It felt foreign, yet strangely solemn.

He glanced at each of the men. One bore callused hands and a humble tunic, eyes weathered with toil, a farmer whose life was etched into the creases of his sun-darkened skin. The other wore finer robes, a cloth of faded green with frayed edges, and held himself with a defensive air, like a man who had long been judged for things other than his actions. Their words clashed in the air, heated and desperate, spilling out like overflowing pots.

He took a deep breath to recalibrate himself, then raised his voice, firm and clear.

"Enough."

The two men fell silent, turning to face him with startled expressions. The courtroom quieted as Feiyin's gaze swept over them.

"I will hear you both and will do my best to pass a fair judgment," he said evenly, his voice calm yet carrying weight. "But know this, lies have no place in this court, and I will know if you try to deceive. Let us start with you," he nodded toward the well-dressed man. "Tell me your side of the story."

The man stepped forward, gathering his breath. "I grow medicinal plants. It's how I support my family. But this morning, I found my field in ruins, many of my plants were eaten, trampled. The beasts that did it came from his farm," he gestured toward his neighbor. "So I demanded compensation, his animals, but he refused."

Feiyin nodded, then turned to the other farmer.

The man shifted uneasily. "I rear beasts, mostly Moocows and Mesheeps. Last night, a Moocow broke through the enclosure, and the rest followed. They got into his field. It wasn't intentional. But if I give away my animals, how will I provide for my family?"

The plant farmer's face twisted with anger. "And my family? My plants are my livelihood!"

Feiyin raised a hand before the shouting could resume. "Enough," he said again, softly this time. "I understand both of your plights. Give me a moment."

He lowered his head in thought, fingers steepled.

Feiyin took another breath, eyes firm as he addressed them.

"The way I see it," he said, looking to the plant farmer, "your means of livelihood is your fertile land and the skills you've cultivated to grow those plants. As for you," he turned to the beast farmer, "your means are your animals, the ones you rear and care for. Taking those beasts away completely would cut off your only way to support your family, and that would not be right."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"However, your beasts did cause damage, even if unintentionally. The field was harmed, the crops were eaten, and it affected another family's survival. There must be repayment, but not in a way that ruins another."

Feiyin stood straighter.

"My judgment is this: You will repay the plant farmer not by giving away your beasts, but by offering their products; milk, fur, and any other useful goods. It can be done over time, in a way that allows the plant farmer to recover and replant, and gives you a way to fulfill your debt without losing everything."

The courtroom quieted. The two men exchanged glances, no longer angry but thoughtful. Finally, they nodded.

"That's fair, I can accept it," said the plant farmer.

"Yes," added the beast farmer, shoulders loosening. "I can agree to that."

Justice had been restored, and with that, the trial came to an end.

The courtroom was still. The two farmers looked at each other, then slowly nodded. The tension eased.

The trial ended with a soft chime. The courtroom faded, and Feiyin found himself once more surrounded by mist, the path forward now open.