Morning came without ceremony.
A bell rang once through the outer sect, low and dull, echoing faintly against the mountainside. Li Ren opened his eyes before it finished ringing.
His body felt heavy, but his breathing was already steady.
That alone unsettled him.
He sat up slowly, waiting for the familiar ache in his legs to complain. It came, but weaker than expected, dull and manageable.
Outside, other disciples stirred. The sounds were the same as always. Coughing. Shuffling steps. Someone groaning softly as they stood.
Li Ren did not linger.
He washed quickly in cold water, ignored the numbness in his fingers, and left his room.
The morning training yard was already filling when he arrived. The sky was pale, still undecided about whether it wanted to become day.
Positions were called.
The disciples moved into formation.
Li Ren took his place in the third row, just as he always had.
Horse stance.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
The cold bit deeper this morning. The stone beneath his feet felt harder than before. Around him, breathing quickly fell out of sync as exhaustion set in.
The reduced rations had already taken their toll.
Li Ren focused inward.
Not on strength.
Not on endurance.
On stillness.
His breathing slowed naturally, falling into a rhythm that felt more instinctive than taught.
The ache in his legs became distant. Not gone, but quieter, as if pushed to the edges of his awareness.
Minutes passed.
He did not chase the sensation from yesterday. He let his awareness settle naturally, the way water did when left alone.
The yard felt quieter.
Not in sound, but in rhythm.
And then, there.
The shift was subtle but unmistakable.
The others' breathing stood out again. Uneven. Rushed. Tight. It was difficult not to notice, like hearing a wrong note in a familiar tune.
Two rows ahead, a disciple's circulation faltered.
Li Ren felt it three breaths before the boy's legs gave out.
When the collapse came, it felt inevitable, like watching water find its level.
An instructor's staff cracked against stone.
"Stand."
The boy did not stand.
Li Ren felt something shift in the yard.
The instructor's attention swept across the formation like a blade testing edges.
Li Ren realized something and immediately forced himself to stop thinking.
He was comparing.
Measuring the others against his own growing stability.
That was dangerous.
He forced his awareness to collapse inward. The clarity shattered. Pain rushed back into his legs all at once. His breathing hitched, became uneven, mortal again.
The instructor's gaze passed over him without stopping.
Li Ren let out a slow breath.
Relief followed, brief and shallow.
Training continued.
When the session finally ended, Li Ren joined the flow toward the eatery, careful to keep his movements unremarkable. He did not try to sense anything. He did not regulate his breathing beyond what was natural.
He had learned something important this morning.
The awareness could be summoned.
With focus and stillness, he could slip into that state where the world felt larger and clearer.
But he had also learned that it made him visible.
Not to ordinary disciples. They felt nothing.
To the instructors.