Chapter 6 — The Moon-Forged Body
The days before the tournament passed like fading candlelight.
The mountain air carried a sharper chill, and every disciple trained with feverish urgency.
Arin, however, stood before the towering marble steps of the Celestial Technique Pavilion — a sacred place whispered about among disciples as the heart of the sect's wisdom.
For three days remained before the battles would begin. And for Arin, the next step was not to swing his sword — but to strengthen the vessel that carried it.
The Pavilion loomed at the center of the inner courtyard — a circular structure of jade and white stone, rising five stories high, with walls inscribed with luminous runes.
A faint hum of energy pulsed through the air, each vibration echoing like a whisper from the past.
Silver lanterns floated silently above the entrance, their light soft and steady, bathing the marble in a lunar glow.
As Arin stepped through the great archway, the temperature dropped. The air grew still, filled with the scent of parchment, incense, and Qi crystals.
Rows upon rows of scrolls and manuals filled the hall — each one resting upon pedestals carved with protective sigils. Some glowed faintly, others pulsed with energy so dense it distorted the air around them.
At the center, behind a long wooden counter, sat an elder.
Elder of the Pavilion
The man was tall, with long, snow-white hair tied in a single braid. His robes were deep indigo, trimmed with faint silver lines that shimmered when he moved.
A pendant shaped like a crescent moon hung around his neck. His eyes, pale and sharp as winter frost, regarded Arin with quiet curiosity.
"Another eager soul," the Elder said, his voice calm but resonant. "Few come seeking new techniques so close to the tournament. What brings you here, disciple?"
Arin bowed deeply. "Elder, I am Arin of Lungshen. I seek a Body Refining Technique — something suited for the First Tank, advanced stage. My current strength is insufficient to sustain my Sword Qi for long."
The elder smiled faintly. "Ah… so you wish to temper the body, to match the heart of your sword."
He rose from his seat and gestured toward the far shelves. "Many wish to wield power, but few remember the vessel that contains it. The sword cuts through air, but the cultivator cuts through himself first."
His robes whispered against the stone floor as he walked.
He stopped before a glass case where an ancient scroll floated within a barrier of soft, silvery light.
"This one," he said quietly, "has not been chosen for generations. It is called The Moon-Forged Body Technique. Rank One, final stage — nine levels of refinement. It draws strength not from flame or thunder, but from stillness and reflection. Its essence lies in the moon's cycle: calm, cold, and eternal."
Arin's breath caught. "May I study it?"
The elder studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Your eyes already hold moonlight. Perhaps it will answer you."
He extended his hand; the silver barrier dissolved, and the scroll floated gently into Arin's palms.
"Be warned," he said, his tone serious. "The Moon-Forged Body refines not only flesh and bone, but the soul that commands them. Without patience, it will consume you."
Arin bowed deeply. "I understand, Elder."
"Good," the elder replied. "Now go. Let the moon be your teacher."
The night wind howled softly as Arin returned to his small dwelling on the outer terrace of the sect.
He lit a single candle, unrolled the ancient scroll, and began to read.
The parchment shimmered faintly, its ink glowing silver in the dim light. The first line read:
> "The body is the vessel of will. To temper it is to carve the path of eternity within flesh."
Beneath that were nine levels, each marked with a poetic name.
1. Silver Vein Awakening — awaken Qi flow through the blood.
2. Lunar Breath Formation — align breath with celestial rhythm.
3. Bone of the Night — strengthen the skeleton with internal Qi.
4. Moon-Pulse Resonance — merge heartbeat with Dantian rhythm.
5. Flesh of Still Waters — temper muscles for fluid Qi flow.
6. Veil of Frost — enhance skin defense and cold resistance.
7. Core Reflection — concentrate Qi into the abdomen for stability.
8. Mirror of Serenity — achieve harmony between breath and mind.
9. Eternal Crescent — complete transformation; body and Qi flow as one.
At the bottom, a final verse glowed faintly:
> "When moon and blood become one, the sword will no longer cut — it will simply become."
Arin stared at the words, a shiver running through him.
"This… this technique feels alive," he whispered.
He began the first level — Silver Vein Awakening.
Sitting cross-legged, he placed his sword before him and closed his eyes.
Following the scroll's guidance, he focused on his breath — deep, slow, and steady — as he drew Qi from his Dantian into his bloodstream.
At first, there was pain — a burning ache that pulsed through every vein, as if liquid fire coursed beneath his skin.
He grit his teeth, forcing the energy to move.
The moonlight streaming through his window shifted, bathing him in a soft silver hue. The light seemed to respond, pulsing faintly with his breath.
Each inhalation drew the light inward; each exhalation spread it through his body.
Hours passed. Sweat turned cold on his skin. Then suddenly, a rush of coolness replaced the heat — a silvery calm spreading through his veins.
When he opened his eyes, faint streaks of light pulsed beneath his skin, tracing the paths of his meridians.
He exhaled. "Silver Vein Awakening… achieved."
Day Two: The Lunar Breath
The following night, he began the second level — Lunar Breath Formation.
He stood outside, beneath the open sky, letting moonlight fall directly upon him. The air was cold and sharp.
The scroll's instruction was clear: "Breathe as the moon breathes — still, eternal, unseen."
He inhaled, visualizing the moon above as a reservoir of endless Qi.
He exhaled, letting the energy sink into his lungs and bones.
His breath slowed — from seconds to minutes. Each cycle synchronized with the pulse of his Dantian. The world around him dimmed, his senses narrowing until only the rhythm of his body remained.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl cried.
When he opened his eyes, he saw his breath shimmer faintly — silver mist rising from his lips. His lungs felt stronger, his heartbeat steady.
He smiled. "Second level complete."
By the third day, Arin's training had grown intense.
He alternated between sword practice by day and body refinement by night.
The Qi within him had become denser, smoother. His strikes were faster, his endurance longer.
Even his eyes seemed sharper — reflecting faint traces of silver when the light struck them.
He no longer needed a candle to see in the dark. The moonlight itself guided him.
But the process was not without pain.
Each refinement brought waves of exhaustion and dizziness. The Qi that strengthened him also strained his mortal limits.
At times, he saw flickers of light dancing across his skin, his veins glowing faintly like rivers of mercury.
Unseen by him, Elder Lyra and Grandmaster Lorian watched from the cliff overlooking his dwelling.
Lyra spoke softly. "He's practicing the Moon-Forged Body. That technique hasn't been touched in a century."
Lorian nodded. "And yet it responds to him. The energy suits his soul. If he masters even the first three levels before the tournament, his foundation will surpass any novice."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Perhaps fate favors the stubborn."
Three Days Pass
On the final night before the tournament, Arin sat once more in meditation.
The moon was full — its silver light flooding the room through the open window.
His breathing was slow, perfectly aligned with the lunar rhythm. Qi surged through his meridians, flowing in harmony.
He had reached the First Level — Silver Vein Awakening, and half of the Second.
His body felt both heavy and light — muscles taut yet flexible, bones humming with quiet strength.
When he rose to his feet, his movements carried a subtle grace. His sword no longer felt separate — it followed his body's flow as naturally as a shadow follows light.
At dawn, the great bell rang again — this time not for training, but for war.
The air around the sect vibrated with anticipation.
Arin stepped from his room, tightening his belt. His robes, once loose and simple, now fit him perfectly — his form lean, his stance steady. His skin carried a faint silver tone, as if kissed by moonlight.
He looked toward the mountain plaza, where hundreds of disciples gathered once again.
Taren ran up beside him, grinning. "You look… different, Arin. What did you do?"
Arin smiled faintly. "I just listened to the moon."
Taren laughed. "Well, I hope the moon can fight, because you're about to need it."
Ahead, the banners of the sect unfurled, shimmering beneath the early sun. The tournament stage gleamed — a massive platform of polished stone inscribed with sealing runes, built to withstand the power of cultivators.
Grandmaster Lorian stood before the crowd, voice echoing through the valley.
"Disciples of Righteous Sky Sect! Today, you will test not only your strength, but your hearts. Let your swords speak your truth. Let the tournament begin!"
Cheers erupted, shaking the mountain air.
Arin took a deep breath, feeling the pulse of Qi within him — the rhythm of the moon still steady in his veins.
His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
He was ready.