Cultivation is Creation

The evening sky had begun to deepen into twilight as Wu Kangming and Luo Yichen made their way back toward the outer disciple quarters.

Most of their fellow participants had already scattered to celebrate with visiting family members, but the two sworn brothers had spent the hours since the announcement of the next stage doing what they always did - training.

"I'm telling you, big brother, you're going to demolish both of them," Luo Yichen said, his voice carrying that mix of confidence and admiration that Wu Kangming had grown accustomed to over their time together. "That Ke Yin might have some flashy techniques, and Wei Lin's energy conversion thing is clever, but neither of them has your foundation. Your sword dao is on a completely different level."

Wu Kangming walked in comfortable silence, listening to his sworn brother's enthusiastic analysis. Luo Yichen had always been like this: quick to offer encouragement, eager to discuss strategy, and genuinely believing that Wu Kangming was destined for greatness. It was touching, really, even if it sometimes felt like too much pressure.

"The way you handled that shapeshifter in the Fallen Realm," Luo Yichen continued, gesturing animatedly as they walked, "that wasn't just superior cultivation. That was pure technique mastery. Your sword strikes don't just cut through qi constructs, they cut through the very concept of defense itself."

There was truth in what Luo Yichen said, Wu Kangming knew. His master's teachings had given him insights into the sword dao that went far beyond what most cultivators his age could comprehend.

But Luo Yichen's confidence, while appreciated, came from a place of inexperience. His sworn brother had never faced truly overwhelming odds, never been broken down to nothing and forced to rebuild himself from the ground up.

There was much Luo Yichen still needed to learn about the cultivation world, about how quickly fortune could change, about how dangerous it was to underestimate opponents. Unfortunately, some lessons couldn't be taught through words or demonstration. They had to be lived, experienced, carved into one's soul through pain and loss.

Wu Kangming understood this better than most. His engagement being broken, his clan's abandonment, Zhou's vicious crippling of his cultivation - each of these events had shaped him, stripped away illusions, forced him to confront harsh realities about power and relationships in the cultivation world. They had been agonizing experiences, but they had also led him to his master, to this path he now walked.

Without those failures, those moments of despair, would he have been worthy of inheriting the Eternal Edge Sword Dao? Would he have had the determination to endure his master's grueling training regimen?

Pain, it seemed, was often the price of true strength.

His thoughts turned to his master, and Wu Kangming's hand unconsciously drifted to the ring on his finger. Three weeks now since the confrontation with the Masked One. Three weeks since his master had sacrificed a portion of his already diminished power to save Wu Kangming's life, then fallen into the deep hibernation that followed.

The ring felt cold and inert against his skin, showing no sign of the vast consciousness that normally resided within it. Wu Kangming pressed his thumb against the metal surface, hoping for some flicker of response, some indication that his master's condition was improving.

Nothing.

He missed the sword saint's guidance more than he cared to admit. Not just the combat techniques or cultivation insights, though those were invaluable. It was the companionship, the sense of having someone who truly understood him, who could see through his carefully maintained composure to the uncertainty beneath.

His master had been the one constant in his life since the crippling, the one relationship that hadn't been contingent on his cultivation level or social status. When the Wu clan had turned their backs on him, when Wu Lihua had broken their engagement, when other disciples had begun treating him like a non-entity, his master had remained. Demanding, certainly. Harsh in his training methods, absolutely. But always present, always pushing Wu Kangming to become better than he thought possible.

Now, when he faced the first tournament in his life, when he needed that steady voice offering cryptic wisdom and cutting observations, there was only silence.

"Big brother?" Luo Yichen's voice cut through his melancholy. "You're not saying much. Are you worried about the individual rounds?"

Wu Kangming shook his head, forcing a slight smile. "Just thinking about strategy," he replied, which was true enough, even if it wasn't the complete truth.

They had stopped walking without Wu Kangming realizing it, finding themselves in one of the wider courtyards where disciples often gathered to socialize. The space was busier than usual, filled with participants from the tournament reuniting with family members who had traveled to watch the competition.

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Wu Kangming found himself scanning the clusters of people, taking in the warm embraces and animated conversations.

A young woman in outer disciple robes was excitedly describing her battles in the Fallen Realm to what appeared to be her parents and younger siblings, all of them hanging on her every word.

Nearby, an older man with the bearing of a minor clan patriarch was presenting his grandson with what looked like a new sword, the young cultivator's face bright with pride and gratitude.

The scene was repeated dozens of times throughout the courtyard: families reunited, achievements celebrated, bonds reaffirmed through shared joy.

Even some of the eliminated participants were surrounded by supportive family members. Wu Kangming could see clusters of people offering comfort and encouragement, emphasizing how proud they were that their children had made it as far as they had.

It was exactly the kind of gathering that Wu Kangming had once taken for granted, back when he had been the Wu clan's rising star, their hope for advancement in the cultivation world.

He looked more carefully, searching among the faces for any sign of Wu clan colors or insignia.

Surely they would have sent someone? Even if they had unofficially disowned him, his recent achievements had to have reached their ears. His advancement to the ninth stage of Qi Condensation, his selection for the tournament, his obvious progress toward the Elemental Realm - these were not insignificant accomplishments for someone they had written off as talentless.

But there was no one.

No clan representatives, no distant cousins, not even a servant bearing messages.

The Wu clan, it seemed, had decided that their former young master was truly dead to them.

Wu Kangming felt a familiar tightness in his chest, that mixture of hurt and anger that always accompanied thoughts of his family. The rational part of his mind understood their position. In the cultivation world, resources were limited and had to be invested where they would yield the greatest returns. A crippled cultivator with questionable prospects was simply not worth supporting, especially when the clan had other talented members to nurture.

But understanding their logic didn't make the abandonment hurt any less. These were people who had raised him, who had celebrated his early achievements, who had once spoken proudly of his potential. The fact that their affection had been so conditional, so easily withdrawn when he was no longer useful, left wounds that went deeper than any physical injury.

He sighed, the sound carrying more weight than he intended.

Relationships had always been complicated for him, even before the crippling. Social interactions felt like navigating a minefield where one wrong word or gesture could have far-reaching consequences. He had never been good at the subtle political dances that seemed to come naturally to other clan members, the careful balance of flattery and positioning that marked successful court cultivators.

Wu Lihua had been different, though. Growing up together, they had developed a connection that transcended the usual political calculations. She had understood his awkwardness, his tendency to speak too directly, his preference for action over words. They had been friends first, companions who could sit in comfortable silence or engage in earnest conversation about their cultivation goals.

That relationship had been the foundation of his confidence in their arranged marriage. It hadn't felt like a political alliance between different branches of the clan but rather a natural extension of their existing bond. When she had broken their engagement after being selected as a Core Disciple, it had shattered something fundamental in his understanding of human nature.

And now the only person who seemed to understand him, who could offer genuine guidance and support, was trapped in hibernation within his ring. His master had seen through all the surface complexities to the core of who Wu Kangming was and who he could become. The ancient sword spirit had never judged him for his social awkwardness or emotional struggles; instead, he'd channeled those qualities into strengths that served the dao of the sword.

But that voice was gone now, leaving Wu Kangming to navigate these turbulent waters alone.

"Big brother?" Luo Yichen's voice once again pulled him from his brooding thoughts. "Are you alright? You seem... distant."

Wu Kangming looked at his sworn brother, who had stopped walking and was studying Wu Kangming's face with a concerned look in his eyes.

"I'm fine," he said automatically, then caught himself. Luo Yichen deserved better than dismissive platitudes. "I was just... thinking about family."

Luo Yichen's gaze followed Wu Kangming's line of sight, taking in all the celebration and reunion happening around them. Understanding dawned in his expression, followed quickly by something that looked like protective anger.

"They're fools," Luo Yichen said quietly, but with absolute conviction. "Your clan, I mean. They had someone like you among them, and they threw it away because they couldn't see past temporary setbacks. That kind of short-sighted thinking is exactly why so many cultivation clans stagnate and decline."

The loyalty in his voice was fierce and unconditional. It reminded Wu Kangming that while he might have lost some relationships, he'd gained others. Luo Yichen's devotion wasn't based on political calculations or family obligations; it was earned through shared hardship and mutual respect.

"You know what?" Luo Yichen continued, stepping closer and placing a hand on Wu Kangming's shoulder. "You don't need them. You have me. We're sworn brothers now, which makes us family by choice rather than accident of birth. And family by choice is often stronger than family by blood, because it's based on who we are rather than where we came from."

Wu Kangming felt some of the tension in his chest begin to ease. There was wisdom in Luo Yichen's words, even if they couldn't completely heal the old wounds. The younger cultivator might be naive about some aspects of the cultivation world, but his understanding of loyalty and brotherhood was absolutely genuine.

Wu Kangming was about to respond, to thank Luo Yichen for his support and reassurance, when something over his brother's shoulder made his smile falter and his eyes widen in shock.