It was late at night, but Kurose Nobumasa still hadn't gone to sleep.
The jade slip of the "Scarlet Breath Qi-Guiding Method" lay neatly on the table, beside the notebook he used to record each attempt at cultivation. After spending the entire day regulating his breath and searching for that first faint sensation of spiritual energy without any clear result, the problem occupying Nobumasa's thoughts most heavily was no longer the cultivation method itself. He had the method, and his spirit root had awakened. The more difficult question was how he would explain it to outsiders someday, once he truly stepped onto the immortal path.
Nobumasa was twenty-two this year.
The Kurose clan was not powerful enough to ignore every eye turned its way. Years ago, he had undergone an examination of his natural aptitude and been confirmed to have no spirit root. It wasn't something anyone would remember forever, but the local records still existed. If someone who had lived as an ordinary mortal for more than twenty years suddenly became a cultivator, sooner or later, those who knew his history would start asking questions.
A precious secret without the strength to protect it was usually no blessing.
Nobumasa had thought about this even before exchanging for the "Scarlet Breath Qi-Guiding Method," but at the time, his spirit root had only just awakened, and everything still lay too far in the future. Now that the cultivation method was in his hands, he had no choice but to prepare ahead of time.
There was more than one way to undergo an examination of one's natural aptitude in Kawase. Children in the region were usually tested for the first time at around six, since that was the most convenient age for identifying most spirit roots. Families with the means—or parents unwilling to accept the initial result—could still pay for another examination in Mizuhara in the years that followed. People who truly manifested their spirit roots late were so rare that several years might pass without a single case, but at least it wasn't something that had never happened before.
The Kurose clan had been in decline at the time. Nobumasa's parents had died young, and every piece of household property had to be preserved to maintain the farmland and the lives of those who remained. After the first examination showed that he had no spirit root, he had never considered spending more money to try again.
Things were different now.
At the beginning of next year, Mizuhara would hold another mass examination of natural aptitude. Nothing prohibited an adult from paying to be tested again, but almost no one would undertake such a hopeless endeavor. If Nobumasa claimed that he had never been able to accept the result from all those years ago and wanted to pay for one final test, then revealed a tri-element spirit root, people would certainly be astonished. At least there would be an explanation he could place before everyone.
Rare didn't mean impossible.
More importantly, he still had several months.
Nobumasa looked at the jade slip on the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. That stretch of time would be enough for him to continue studying the "Scarlet Breath Qi-Guiding Method," find that first faint sensation of spiritual energy, and then gradually attempt to open his Qi Sea. He didn't expect to advance quickly, but if the beginning of next year arrived and he was still stuck at the same first step as today, then revealing his spirit root wouldn't mean much, even if he did so publicly.
To step into the light, he first needed something strong enough to stand firmly within it.
Nobumasa put away the jade slip and closed his notebook. Rather than force himself to continue cultivating through the night, he closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into the Thousand-Leaf Family Hall.
The familiar dimly glowing space appeared at once.
The Thousand-Leaf Genealogy Wall still stood silently at the center. To the left, the ten Amasuzu sprouts that had just broken through the soil in the Spirit-Nurturing Field were still so tender that their two seed leaves had yet to fully open. Nobumasa watched them for a while before shifting his gaze to the opposite side.
The Still-Life Pond lay motionless beneath the faint light of the Family Hall.
Since he had first been able to enter this place, most of Nobumasa's attention had been drawn to the Spirit-Nurturing Field. Soil could be planted, and plants could sprout—the value was so obvious that he had almost unconsciously set the pond aside. But thinking about it carefully, a place placed on equal footing with the Spirit-Nurturing Field within the Family Hall couldn't exist solely for decoration.
"If the soil can grow plants, then the water should be able to nourish something too."
That thought kept Nobumasa standing before the Still-Life Pond for longer than usual.
Kawase had plenty of streams and small ponds. Ordinary fry weren't difficult to find, nor did they cost much. He only needed to buy a few and release them here to find out whether the Still-Life Pond had any effect on aquatic life.
Nobumasa wasn't in a hurry to think about spirit fish or anything more distant. Even if the pond could only make ordinary fish grow faster, that would already be worth trying for the Kurose clan as it currently stood. The children were growing and needed adequate food. Shizuru had just given birth to Fumino and Takehisa and needed to nourish her body. If Munetaka began martial arts training, his portions would increase as well. Once Nobumasa truly began cultivating, he didn't yet know whether his own dietary and nutritional needs would change.
If the household could regularly add fresh fish to the table without relying entirely on the market, it would at least provide a stable food source.
Nobumasa gave a self-deprecating laugh at the thought.
He carried a strange Thousand-Leaf Family Hall in his mind and had an immortal cultivation method in hand, yet the first thing he thought of when he looked at the Still-Life Pond was how to put more fish on the family's table. But in the end, the Kurose clan was still only a small clan with some farmland and an Amasuzu orchard that earned them money. The immortal path was far away, while the people at home had to eat every day.
He didn't find that embarrassing.
Nobumasa made a note to look for fish fry to test and then left the Family Hall. He slept lightly that night, but still woke on time when the sky began to brighten.
Munetaka was even faster than his father.
The boy usually needed Chiyo to call him two or three times before he would leave his blankets. Today, he had dressed himself before dawn had fully broken. Only his belt was crooked, forcing his mother to untie it and fasten it again. During breakfast, Munetaka kept glancing out into the yard, his mind clearly having run ahead to Takamine Dojo long ago.
Nobumasa watched without saying anything.
He understood the feeling. For a seven-year-old being allowed, for the first time, to pursue something he truly liked, being able to sit still and finish a bowl of rice would have been the strange part.
As soon as the carriage was ready, the family of three set out for Mizuhara. Sakuma Genbei sat in front, handling the reins. The trip should have been uneventful, but before the carriage had gone far beyond Kawase's most populated area, loud shouts came from ahead.
The Kawase chief administrator was leading several people responsible for the residential districts along the main road, announcing the news to the houses on either side as they went. His expression was more solemn than usual, and every time he stopped, he repeated the same warning.
"Under no circumstances go near Fukamizu Lake to the west over the next few days. Families with young children need to keep a close eye on them. Yesterday, a young man from the neighboring area went into the water to catch fish and was dragged away by the crocodiles in the lake. By the time people found him, it was too late."
Munetaka, who had been eagerly watching the road, fell silent at once.
Nobumasa frowned as well.
He knew Fukamizu Lake. The body of water was fairly large, and even people who had lived around Kawase for years couldn't say with certainty how deep it went. At some point, a group of more than ten crocodiles had appeared in the lake. Most of the time, they simply lay in the deep water or on the mudflats, but they became extremely dangerous whenever a person or livestock came too close.
Whenever the Kurose clan had business in that area, they deliberately took a detour.
Nobumasa lifted the carriage curtain, called for Genbei to stop, and got down to speak with the chief administrator. After confirming that the dead man wasn't from the Kurose clan, he returned and gave orders on the spot.
"Genbei, send someone back to inform everyone working in the Amasuzu orchard and every household working Kurose land. Until further notice, no one is to go near Fukamizu Lake—not even if they only intend to pass by to save time."
Genbei immediately understood how serious it was. "I'll have someone deliver the message to every household."
"Tell their families too. Especially the children." Nobumasa looked toward the road to the west, his voice lowering. "Anyone who deliberately ignores the warning and still goes there will be suspended from work. Don't wait until something happens and then claim no one warned them."
The people working for the Kurose clan weren't household retainers, but since they depended on the clan's farmland and wages, the Kurose clan still had some responsibility for managing them. If they knew a place was dangerous and still allowed their people to go there, then if someone died, assistance for the family would only be the lesser concern. The clan's reputation in the region would suffer as well.
Genbei called over a nearby acquaintance to spread the news first, then continued taking the other three to Mizuhara. The unexpected incident delayed the trip, and by the time the carriage stopped in front of Takamine Dojo, the sun was already high in the sky.
The moment Munetaka got down, he had forgotten all about Fukamizu Lake.
The dojo was busier today than when Chiyo had visited the previous day. The training yard rang with the steady thud of feet striking sand as groups of students practiced under their instructors' supervision. Some were holding stances, others were practicing basic punches and kicks, while several older youths in the distance ran laps around the yard carrying sandbags.
Munetaka stood outside, staring in fascination.
Chiyo gently tugged at her son's shoulder. "Don't block the way."
The boy jolted, then hurried after his parents inside.
Miyake Takanori already knew they were coming, so he didn't keep the three of them waiting. He met them in the room beside the training yard where Chiyo had come the day before, though this time there was almost no small talk. After looking Munetaka over, Takanori called the boy forward.
"Stand straight."
Munetaka immediately thrust out his chest.
Takanori lightly squeezed his arms, shoulders, and back, then told the boy to stretch his legs, bend forward, and walk a few laps around the room. He also examined Munetaka's hands, wrists, and natural standing posture before telling him to stop.
Chiyo watched her brother from beginning to end without interrupting. Nobumasa only observed as well, waiting for Takanori to reach his own conclusion.
After a while, Takanori finally said, "His build is well balanced, and there are no problems with his limbs. Nothing stands out as particularly exceptional, but at least he isn't the sort who will struggle to make progress no matter how he trains. His body is a little weak right now because he hasn't undergone formal training before."
The moment Munetaka heard the words "can train," his eyes lit up.
Nobumasa paid more attention to the first half of the assessment. He hadn't expected his son to be called a genius upon arriving at the dojo. If a simple examination could reveal a child's future, then martial artists wouldn't need to train hard for years.
"So that means he can start learning for now?" Nobumasa asked.
Takanori nodded. "He can. But don't think about advanced punches and kicks during the first few months. He needs to correct his posture, build his strength, and get used to the rhythm of physical training first. If he can't even withstand the foundation, there's no point talking about what comes later."
Munetaka stood to the side, his expression suddenly turning serious.
Nobumasa glanced at his son before turning back to Takanori. "There's something else I'd like to ask. Until now, I only knew that martial artists were stronger than ordinary people, but I never looked into how martial arts are actually divided. If the Kurose clan is truly going to invest resources in Munetaka's training from today onward, I should at least know how long the road ahead of him is."
Takanori didn't find the question strange. He poured himself some tea, waited for everyone to sit down, and then said, "If I explain it in the simplest terms for an outsider, martial arts currently have two major realms: Postnatal and Innate."
"Postnatal training is mainly about tempering the body. Muscles and bones, qi and blood, stamina, striking power—all of it must be forged bit by bit over the years. Practicing punches and kicks alone isn't enough. Anyone who truly wants to go far also needs to combine it with food, medicinal baths, and injury medicine. That's why I told Chiyo yesterday that martial arts training costs more than just tuition."
Nobumasa nodded. This completely matched what Chiyo had told him.
Takanori continued, "Postnatal can be divided into Initiation, Minor Achievement, Major Achievement, and Peak. Beginners must first make their bodies capable of enduring the intensity of training, then gradually nurture their qi and blood. At the Postnatal Peak, a martial artist has far surpassed ordinary people in strength, speed, and endurance. Even a dozen or more healthy men charging together might not be able to hold one down."
Munetaka looked both astonished and eager at that. Chiyo saw this and lightly tapped her son on the head, reminding him not to listen only to the impressive parts and forget the words about hard training that had come before them.
Nobumasa asked again, "What about Innate?"
This time, Takanori was silent for a beat before answering.
"Innate is different. A martial artist at the limit of Postnatal must overcome an extremely difficult threshold, draw a strand of Innate qi into the body, and use it to continue tempering his muscles, bones, qi, and blood. Those who succeed enter an entirely different level. Their strength, reactions, and endurance are no longer comparable to those of ordinary martial artists."
He set down his teacup, a trace of respect entering his voice. "An Innate martial artist is strong enough to become a pillar of a major martial clan. There aren't many people like that in the military or among the forces protecting a domain, either. I've also heard that powerful Innate experts can hold their own for a while against someone who has just stepped onto the immortal path, but that's only a rumor passed around the martial world. Martial arts and the immortal path ultimately aren't the same road."
Nobumasa didn't ask any further questions.
That final sentence alone was enough for him to understand the gap.
Postnatal still lay within the limits that a mortal could gradually reach through his body and resources. Innate had touched something higher, yet even that level could only withstand newly initiated cultivators.
And Nobumasa himself hadn't even sensed his first strand of spiritual energy yet.
That didn't discourage him. On the contrary, hearing another power system explained so clearly made him understand even more that every path had to begin with a foundation. Munetaka was standing before the gate of Postnatal, while he stood before the gate of the immortal path. Neither father nor son had any right to look down on the first steps.
Once Munetaka's aptitude had been settled, only the money remained.
Nobumasa placed the sum he had prepared on the table. It covered the first year's tuition and the basic expenses for Munetaka to begin training. The costs of nourishing food, medicinal baths, and injury medicine would be added month by month according to his progress.
Takanori didn't refuse.
A dojo had its own rules. Their relationship as uncle and nephew might lead him to pay a little more attention to Munetaka, but meat, fish, medicinal ingredients, liniments, and the instructors' labor couldn't simply vanish because they were family. The Kurose clan's willingness to pay the full amount from the beginning would also make things easier to handle later.
Chiyo looked at the money being handed over, her expression still pained despite having told her husband the day before that their household could afford it. Nobumasa understood the feeling. If kept, this money could have been used on the Amasuzu orchard, home repairs, or building up the granary stores. Instead, from today onward, it would become meals with more meat, medicinal baths, and countless hours of Munetaka sweating on the training yard.
Money had begun turning into a person.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Once everything was settled, Takanori called in a student from outside, told him to prepare a place for Munetaka, and sent him to collect the basic supplies. The moment the boy heard that he was truly staying, he was so happy that he took two steps forward before remembering that his parents were still in the room.
Nobumasa called him back.
Munetaka immediately stood before his father. He tried to suppress the excitement on his face, but couldn't hide it.
"I told you last night." Nobumasa looked him straight in the eye. "You're here to learn how to stand on your own. Just because your uncle is at the dojo doesn't mean you can rely on him to cause trouble. If you can't keep up with the training, tell the truth. If someone bullies you, find an adult. But don't rush into a fight over one disagreement and only think about the consequences afterward."
Munetaka nodded hard. "I remember."
"And one more thing. Don't say you'll work hard today, then start complaining about the pain three days later."
The boy flushed slightly, but this time he answered more clearly. "I won't quit."
Nobumasa didn't make him promise anything else.
There was little meaning in the assurances of a seven-year-old. Whether he could endure stance training, running laps, sore muscles, and medicinal baths would only become clear after several months.
Chiyo stepped forward and straightened her son's collar. Her movements were slower than usual, clearly showing that she still wasn't used to leaving Munetaka somewhere else for an extended period.
"Listen to your uncle at night. Eat properly. If anything happens, tell your uncle first. Don't hide it."
Only then did Munetaka show reluctance. "You're not staying, Mom?"
Chiyo's hand paused for a moment before she replied, "You came here to learn martial arts. What would I stay for? I'll visit in a few days."
Takanori, who had been standing nearby, spoke up. "You don't need to visit too often. He just entered the dojo and needs to get used to the rules here first. The two of you can rest easy. I'll keep an eye on him."
Chiyo looked at her brother and finally nodded.
She had said everything that needed to be said the day before. Takanori had also made it clear that if Munetaka joined Takamine, he wouldn't reduce the training just because the boy was his nephew. Continuing to give instructions now would only make it harder for him to leave his parents.
Nobumasa stood first.
"Let's go."
The two of them left the room, with Munetaka following them as far as the hallway. Only when Takanori called him did he stop inside, standing beside the door that led out to the training yard.
Nobumasa turned and looked at his son one last time.
The boy was still young, and the clothes he wore were hardly different from what he had worn that morning. But just beyond that gate, his life had gained a part that, from today onward, no longer lay entirely within the Kurose household.
Tomorrow, Munetaka would wake according to the dojo's schedule, eat according to the dojo's portions, hold stances, run laps, and learn things he had never encountered before. Perhaps he would endure. Perhaps after a few months he would realize that martial arts were nothing like playing with wooden swords alongside the neighborhood children.
No one knew beforehand.
Nobumasa didn't need to know beforehand, either.
He only needed to ensure that when his son truly wanted to try a path, the Kurose clan had enough ability to open that door for him.
The carriage left Takamine Dojo when the sun had passed its zenith. Chiyo still turned around from time to time to look back, and only after the dojo gate had disappeared behind the row of houses did she sit facing forward again.
Nobumasa didn't tease her.
He was thinking about Munetaka too, but alongside that were the jade slip in his study, the examination of natural aptitude at the beginning of next year, the ten Amasuzu sprouts in the Spirit-Nurturing Field, and the untested Still-Life Pond.
Each one had only just opened a door.
He still had to walk through them one by one.