Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

For the next several days, Lucas buried himself in his work, pushing aside every distraction in pursuit of the mysteries of space and time. The work was exhausting, more demanding than any duel or test of martial skill he had faced, but Lucas felt himself growing sharper, his understanding deepening in ways that words could barely capture.

The days stretched together until ten had passed, though it scarcely felt like time at all. On the seventh day, when his body threatened to give out from weakness, he had eaten two apples, and that was all the nourishment he allowed himself for the entirety of his seclusion. Everything else came from the flow of Qi, the clarity of his focus, and the occasional sip of water to keep his throat from burning dry. His reflection in the polished bronze mirror that hung near his worktable grew leaner, his eyes more sunken, but they glowed with a quiet fire, proof of how far he had come.

Finally, on the tenth day, after hours of weaving his Qi into complex formations, he managed to do something. The air before him began to twist, rippling like water struck by a stone. His spiritual energy strained against resistance, pulling at the threads of reality itself until the faintest tear opened in the air. Lucas's heart pounded as he stared at the rift. It was no larger than the palm of his hand, but he could feel it stretching into a place beyond comprehension. The space around it distorted, bending the light as if reality were straining to hold itself together.

The rift shuddered violently, unstable from the very moment it appeared. Lucas knew that if he left it unchecked, it could collapse with a violent backlash, injuring him severely or worse. Summoning all the control he had cultivated, he forced the edges of the rift to close. It resisted him, whining with a sound that was not sound at all, until finally the tear sealed itself and the air returned to stillness. Lucas collapsed back against the chair, his breathing heavy, his body drenched with sweat, but a slow smile spread across his face.

Though it had lasted for only a few breaths and had been far too unstable to explore, it was undeniable proof that his focus, calculations and studies had borne fruit. He had managed to open space itself, even if only for an instant. It was the first true breakthrough he had achieved in this path, and it meant he had stepped onto the threshold of a power very few dared to grasp. Now, the challenge would no longer be simply opening a rift, but finding a way to stabilize it so that it would not collapse the moment it appeared. That would be his next goal, and Lucas felt the weight of both excitement and determination settle upon him as he prepared for the work to come.

The next morning after the intense breakthrough, Lucas could hardly move. His body felt as though it had been wrung dry, and every breath he drew was shallow, scraping against lungs that felt heavy and worn. When he dragged himself to the mirror across the room, the sight that met him made his stomach turn. His skin had lost its color, his cheeks were hollowed, and his eyes seemed sunken deep into their sockets. The veins along his neck and arms were more visible than they had ever been, and his frame looked frail, almost skeletal. He placed both hands on the rim of the basin beneath the mirror, steadying himself as his reflection swayed before his eyes. He had paid a steep price for his sudden progress, and though the strength of his cultivation had soared, his body had been reduced to the state of a starved man.

He lowered himself slowly onto the mat on the floor and sat cross-legged, drawing in what little Qi he could. His body screamed for rest, but he ignored the warning, knowing that even a little bit of cultivation would begin to mend the torn edges of his being. His breath steadied as the flow of Qi trickled through his meridians, weak and faltering at first but gradually becoming smoother with each cycle. The strain in his chest eased slightly, though the gnawing emptiness inside him reminded him that cultivation alone could not replace nourishment.

His eyes fell on the small plate resting near his bed. It was the chicken mixed with soup Lira had left for him earlier in the day, the surface now coated with a thin layer of grease and the broth long gone cold. He reached for it without hesitation, pulling the bowl close and drinking it down in hungry gulps and chewing the chicken hurriedly, he was too hungry. The taste was bland and stale, but to him, it was a feast. Each mouthful seemed to burn a little warmth back into his belly, and when the bowl was empty, he licked his lips and closed his eyes, savoring the faint comfort it gave. His hunger was far from sated, but at least he could think clearly again.

Without pausing, Lucas straightened his back and returned to his cultivation. He pushed past the throbbing ache in his bones and the sharp pangs in his stomach, focusing only on rebuilding the fragments of vitality he had lost. Hours passed in that quiet, grueling way, each breath an effort, each cycle of Qi a small victory. By the time he opened his eyes again, his body still felt weak, but there was a little more weight in his limbs, a faint flicker of strength in his blood.

Determined to now test his progress of the teleportation, he rose from the mat and put on a plain robe. His legs trembled slightly as he walked, but he forced them into a steady stride. Without hesitation, he left his chamber and began making his way toward the secluded courtyard he had claimed as his personal space for experiments. The halls were filled with light, but every servant and guard he passed looked upon him with the same startled expression. Their eyes followed his gaunt form, their brows furrowed in shock at how thin and pale he had become. Though his steps were quick and his bearing still carried its usual sharpness, the life seemed drained from his gaze, leaving behind only exhaustion and a mind too burdened to rest.

Lucas ignored their stares. He had no time for their pity or whispered worries. His path led him to the far end of the palace, where a quiet, reserved courtyard lay hidden behind tall hedges and thick stone walls. When he entered, he walked to the center of the courtyard and stopped, drawing a long breath that filled his chest. His eyes drifted shut, and for the first time that day, he allowed the weight of his thoughts to fully settle upon him.

Here, in this secluded place, he could attempt the experiments he had been planning, there was no risk of endangering others should his recklessness go wrong. He lifted his hands slowly, feeling the faint threads of Qi stir in his weakened body, and let the silence of the courtyard wrap around him like a shield.

Lucas then drew in a long breath and closed his eyes, centering himself as he sank deep into his core. His heartbeat slowed, his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, and the faint hum of energy began to ripple outward from his body. The air around him shivered faintly, he guided his Qi carefully, threading it with every ounce of precision he possessed, weaving it with the inner current of his spirit force until the invisible threads tugged at the veil of reality itself.

A faint distortion appeared before him, like a warped reflection on water. His fingers tightened as he pressed his palms together, pushing his Qi in a constant flow, bending the rules of space with sheer will. A low crack echoed, and the rift tore open, jagged and unstable at first, the edges sparking with violent resistance. Lucas gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow, his entire body trembling from the immense strain.

"No… not this time," he muttered under his breath, refusing to yield. He shifted his focus, not only forcing his Qi into the tear but carefully layering it with stabilizing patterns he had memorized and studied. Each seal, each fragment of intent, was etched into the energy he poured out. Slowly, the chaotic flickering of the rift smoothed. The jagged edges grew calm, the distortion no longer writhed violently but pulsed with a steady rhythm, like the beating of a heart.

The once-threatening void steadied into a gateway of shimmering light, silent yet formidable. Lucas felt his limbs buckle, his knees hitting the ground hard as exhaustion swept through him. For a heartbeat, he could only breathe heavily, his vision blurring from the toll it had taken on his body.

Then, despite his fatigue, a weak laugh escaped him, raw and full of triumph. "Finally…" he whispered hoarsely, the sound filled with both relief and exhilaration. "Finally… I did it. The first stage, the hardest stage… I've passed it."

His shoulders trembled as he supported himself on his hands, the stabilized rift gleaming steadily before him, proof of his unyielding determination. This was no longer theory, no longer mere ambition, he had bent the fabric of space itself and held it steady.