Dual Cultivation Path

The hall of the Verdant Crest Academy stood silent in the wake of Roderic Vane's reassessment, its polished stone walls and jade lanterns still reverberating with the echoes of the Elder's Orb's hum. Roderic faced the four elders, his tall frame steady, patched tunic stark against their flowing robes, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of awe and resolve. The ethereal glow of his qi lingered in his mind—beyond white, beyond measure—a talent the elders had called unprecedented, a marvel unseen in centuries. His core thrummed, a vast sea of power he'd only begun to explore, and the weight of their scrutiny pressed against him.

The lead elder—his steel-wool beard bristling, staff tapping a slow rhythm—cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Roderic Vane," he said, voice gravelly but firm, "your qi is a rarity—a gift that demands care. You'll join us as a disciple, but not as others do."

The wiry woman stepped forward, her sharp eyes still wide from the orb's display, her gray hair pulled tight. "A talent like yours requires more than standard training," she said, hands clasped behind her back. "We've prepared a special apartment—private, within the Inner Crest, near the elders' quarters. Isolation to focus, resources to grow."

The broad elder nodded, his square jaw set, white mane catching the lantern light. "A key awaits you at the dorm registry," he rumbled, arms crossing again. "You'll have solitude, a personal array for cultivation, access to our finest spirit herbs. No distractions—only power."

Roderic blinked, his grin faltering as he processed their words. A private apartment—luxury beyond the shack he shared with Tansy, a far cry from the quarry dust and thin soup. He pictured it: a quiet room, walls lined with scrolls, a garden of glowing herbs, his qi surging under the elders' watchful eyes. It was tempting, a path to the strength he craved, but something tugged at him—a flicker of unease, a memory of Tansy's laughter, Barnaby's gentle smile.

"No," he said, voice steady, surprising even himself as he met the lead elder's gaze. "I don't want that."

The bald elder snorted, leaning on his cane, his wrinkled face creasing with disbelief. "No? Boy, do you grasp what we're offering? A place apart—fit for a prodigy."

"I grasp it," Roderic replied, straightening, his grin returning, softer but resolute. "And I'm grateful. But I didn't come here to hide away. I want to be free—like the others, an average student. Same dorms, same meals. Just give me the best techniques—I'll handle the rest."

The elders exchanged glances, their stern masks shifting—surprise, irritation, a hint of respect. The wiry woman's lips thinned, her voice sharp. "Freedom? You're no average student—your qi could reshape this sect. Isolation protects you, sharpens you."

"I'll sharpen myself," Roderic countered, crossing his arms, mirroring the broad elder. "I've lived in dust my whole life—don't need silk to grow. Let me train with the rest, but give me the top methods. That's all I ask."

The lead elder's staff tapped harder, his eyes narrowing. "Stubborn," he muttered, then sighed, a rare crack in his sternness. "Very well. You'll dorm with the novices—standard quarters, shared with others. But your training… you'll have our finest techniques—scripts from the Inner Crest, arrays the clans would kill for. We'll watch you closely, Vane. This talent won't be wasted."

The broad elder grunted, a faint smirk tugging his lips. "Bold choice, boy. Don't squander it."

"I won't," Roderic said, nodding, his qi humming with anticipation. "Where's the dorm?"

The wiry woman gestured to the disciple waiting by the doors. "She'll take you to the registry," she said, stepping back. "Get your key. Novice quarters—east wing. Don't expect comfort."

Roderic grinned wider. "Never have." He turned, following the disciple as the elders' voices faded into murmurs—"Reckless," "Remarkable," "A risk worth taking"—their robes rustling behind him.

The disciple led him back through the hall, her jade pendant swaying, her silence a contrast to the courtyard's earlier chaos. They emerged into the afternoon sun, the testing circle now quiet, the crowd dispersed save for a few stragglers. Tansy had gone—likely to tell the village, he guessed, smiling at the thought—and Barnaby waited with the advancing group, waving as Roderic passed. "Key time?" he called, grinning.

"Yeah," Roderic replied, waving back. "Catch you there."

The registry sat at the courtyard's edge, a low building of white stone with a sloped roof, its windows framed in jade. Inside, a bored disciple handed him a brass key etched with "East Wing, Room 12," his eyes barely lifting from a scroll. "Novice dorms," he muttered. "Follow the path past the training fields—can't miss it."

Roderic pocketed the key, its weight solid in his hand, and headed east, the academy sprawling around him. The path wound through manicured grounds—fields of packed earth where disciples sparred, their qi flashing in bursts of light, and gardens of spirit herbs glowing faintly under protective arrays. Towers loomed, their jade tiles glinting, while students in green robes darted between lessons, their chatter a distant hum. He felt the qi in the air—thicker here, alive—and his core pulsed in response, eager to grow.

The dorms appeared ahead—three long buildings of gray stone, their roofs curved like waves, windows shuttered against the afternoon heat. The east wing was the smallest, its entrance marked by a faded plaque: "Novice Quarters." Roderic paused, key in hand, then frowned. Two paths branched off—one labeled "East Wing," the other unmarked, leading to a grander building with ornate carvings and flowering vines. His gut said the plainer path was right, but curiosity tugged him toward the grander one. "Just a look," he muttered, veering off. "See what's what, then back to Tansy and Barnaby."

He climbed the steps, the stone smooth under his boots, and pushed open a heavy door carved with lotus blooms. Inside, a hallway stretched—walls of pale wood polished to a sheen, floors tiled in green and white, lanterns of frosted glass casting a soft glow. The air smelled of jasmine and wax, a far cry from the shack's damp mildew, and faint laughter echoed from deeper within. Roderic grinned, stepping forward, the key still in his pocket. "Fancy," he said, peering at a door labeled "Room 3." He assumed it was a shared space—novices bunked together, right?—and turned the knob, easing it open for a quick peek.

The sight stopped him cold, his breath catching, his grin vanishing into wide-eyed shock. A girl stood there, her back to him, half-dressed in the act of changing. She was stunning—beautifully endowed, her body a vision that rooted him to the spot. Her skin was a warm olive, smooth and flawless, catching the light streaming through a high window draped in sheer silk. Her hair tumbled down her back in thick, raven-black waves, glistening like ink, brushing the curve of her waist. She wore only a thin silk shift, its hem riding high, revealing legs long and toned, their muscles flexing as she bent to pick up a robe from a cushioned bench.

Then she turned, and Roderic's jaw dropped further. Her figure was breathtaking—full, heavy breasts strained against the shift, their shape unmistakable, round and proud, the fabric clinging to every curve. Her hips flared wide, her ass a perfect swell that the silk barely contained, its lushness a stark contrast to her slender waist. Her face was just as striking—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes of deep violet, lips plump and parted in mid-breath, a faint flush on her cheeks from the room's warmth. She was a goddess carved from desire, and for a fleeting moment, Roderic couldn't move, couldn't think, the heat in his gut—that strange simmer—flaring hot and wild.

She froze too, staring at him, then her eyes widened, her gasp sharp. "Who—what?!" she shrieked, clutching the robe to her chest, though it did little to hide her form. "Pervert! Get out!"

Roderic jolted, hands flying up, his face burning red. "Wait—I didn't mean—wrong room!" he stammered, stumbling back as she grabbed a jade hairpin from a vanity and hurled it, the point grazing his arm.

"Out!" she yelled, voice rising to a furious pitch, her violet eyes blazing. "You filthy intruder—guards!"

He bolted, the door slamming shut as he raced down the hall, her shouts echoing—"Pervert! Intruder!"—and footsteps pounded behind him, likely other girls roused by the commotion. He burst through the entrance, heart hammering, and darted back to the plainer path, not stopping until he reached the east wing's faded door. Panting, he leaned against it, the key trembling in his hand, a grin breaking through his shock. That image—her curves, her fury—seared into his mind, a guilty thrill he couldn't shake.

Inside, a disciple at a desk glanced up, smirking. "Lost, were you? That's the upper-class female dorm—rich girls, big tempers. Lucky you're alive."

Roderic laughed, shaky but real, rubbing his arm where the hairpin had nicked. "Yeah—thought it was mine. Room 12, right?"

"Upstairs," the disciple said, pointing. "Don't wander again—next time, they'll gut you."

Roderic nodded, heading up, the girl's image lingering—lush, vivid, a moment he'd enjoyed despite the chaos. He'd peek at Room 12, then find Tansy and Barnaby, his grin widening at the tale he'd tell.

He climbed the narrow stairs of the east wing novice dorm, the brass key to Room 12 jingling in his pocket, his heart still racing from the chaotic encounter. The image of the girl—her raven-black waves, her olive skin, the jaw-dropping swell of her breasts and ass beneath that silk shift—burned in his mind, a mix of shock and guilty thrill pulsing through him. His face flushed red as he reached the landing, the faint sting on his arm from her hurled hairpin a reminder of how close he'd come to worse. The upper-class female dorm—a mistake he wouldn't repeat, though he couldn't quite regret the glimpse.

Room 12 was at the hall's end, a plain wooden door scratched and faded, its brass number dulled by time. He pushed it open, peering inside—a cramped space, barely wider than his shack room, with four straw pallets shoved against the walls, a single warped table, and a shuttered window letting in slivers of afternoon light. A chipped clay basin sat in one corner, a rusty lantern hung from a hook, and the air smelled of dust and old wood, a far cry from the jasmine-scented luxury he'd stumbled into. "Good enough," he muttered, grinning despite the simplicity. It was his—shared with others, free like he'd wanted.

He didn't linger, shutting the door and heading back to the courtyard, eager to find Tansy and Barnaby. The academy grounds buzzed with late-day activity—disciples sparring in the fields, their qi flashing, while novices hauled trunks to their dorms, voices a low hum. Roderic spotted them near the testing circle, Tansy's chestnut curls bouncing as she waved, Barnaby's sandy blond mop catching the sun beside her. They sat on a low stone bench, Tansy clutching her shawl, Barnaby kicking at the dirt with a grin.

"There you are!" Tansy called, jumping up, her green eyes bright with curiosity. "What'd they want? You took forever!"

"Elders had a private chat," Roderic said, dropping onto the bench beside Barnaby, his grin widening. "Wanted to test me again—make sure I wasn't faking."

Barnaby's pale blue eyes widened, his lopsided smile returning. "Faking? After that glow? What'd they say?"

Roderic leaned back, stretching his legs, the key a solid weight in his pocket. "Same as before—unprecedented, most talented in centuries. Used some fancy orb—bigger, darker. Went red, blue, gold, white, then that weird color again. They were flabbergasted—kept muttering about purity and limits."

Tansy clapped her hands, freckles stark against her flushed cheeks. "Told 'em, didn't I? My brother's the best! What else?"

"Offered me a special apartment," he said, scratching his neck, his grin softening. "Private, near their quarters—herbs, arrays, the works. Said no, though."

"No?!" Tansy's jaw dropped, her shawl slipping. "Roderic, why? That's luxury—better than our shack!"

"Wanted freedom," he replied, shrugging. "Live like the rest, not locked away. Got the best techniques anyway—Inner Crest stuff. I'll be fine in the novice dorm."

Barnaby chuckled, kicking another pebble. "Bold move. My room's plain too—Room 10. Guess we're neighbors."

"Good," Roderic said, then leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially, his hazel eyes glinting. "But that's not the wild part. Went to the dorm—got lost, ended up in the wrong one."

Tansy frowned, tilting her head. "Wrong one? What's that mean?"

"Female dorm," he said, grin turning sheepish, his face flushing again. "Upper-class girls—rich ones. Walked into a room thinking it was mine, just for a peek."

Barnaby's laugh burst out, loud and bright. "You didn't!"

"Did," Roderic admitted, rubbing his arm where the hairpin had grazed. "And there's this girl—half-dressed, changing. Gods, Tansy, she was… something else."

Tansy's eyes widened, then narrowed, a smirk tugging her lips. "Something else? Spill it, you rogue."

He hesitated, the heat flaring—that strange simmer he'd felt before—but plowed on, voice low. "Beautiful—olive skin, long black hair like ink, falling past her waist. And her body… big, uh, curves—breasts like you wouldn't believe, full and round, ass too, all wrapped in this thin silk thing. Violet eyes, face like a queen. Stunning, Tansy—stunning."

Barnaby whistled, still laughing, his boyish face red. "You're mad! What'd she do?"

"Screamed," Roderic said, grinning despite himself. "Called me a pervert, threw a hairpin—nicked me here. Chased me out yelling for guards. Barely made it."

Tansy burst out laughing, doubling over, her curls bouncing. "A pervert! Oh, Roderic, you idiot! Wandering into some rich girl's room—half-naked, no less! You're lucky she didn't stab you!"

"Worth it," he muttered, half-joking, the image flashing vivid—her lush curves, her furious glare. "Just for a second."

Barnaby shook his head, grinning wider. "You're a legend already—qi and now this. They'll talk about it for weeks."

"Hope not," Roderic said, laughing now too, though his flush deepened. "Need to focus—techniques, training. No more detours."

Tansy wiped her eyes, still giggling. "You better not—I'm not bailing you out of a girls' dorm riot."

They sat there, the sun dipping lower, laughter fading into a comfortable quiet. Roderic felt the qi hum, steady and vast, the day's chaos settling into a new reality—he was here, a disciple, with friends and a future. But as evening shadows stretched across the courtyard, Tansy's smile faltered, her hands tightening on her shawl.

"Guess I should head back," she said, voice softer, standing slowly. "Village'll be dark soon."

Roderic stood too, frowning at the shift in her tone. "You okay?"

She nodded, but her green eyes glistened, her freckles stark against a sudden pallor. "Yeah—just… I'll be sleeping alone now, won't I? Shack's quiet without you snoring."

He stepped closer, his grin softening into something gentler, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's not forever. Just for now—till I get settled."

"Still," she said, looking down, twisting the shawl. "Feels empty already. You're here, chasing this big life, and I'm… back there."

"Tansy," he said, voice firm, lifting her chin to meet her gaze. "This is for us—both of us. I'll train hard, get strong, earn coin. Soon as I can afford it, I'll get an apartment—near the academy, big enough for you. We'll be in touch, always. You won't be alone long—I promise."

Her eyes brightened, a tear slipping free as she smiled, small but real. "Near here? With a real bed?"

"Real bed, real roof—no leaks," he said, grinning again, squeezing her shoulder. "Meat every night, too—not just roots."

She laughed, swiping the tear away, her curls bouncing. "You better deliver, Roderic Vane. I'm holding you to it."

"Count on it," he said, pulling her into a quick hug, her slight frame warm against his. "Go home, rest. I'll visit soon—tell you how it's going."

She nodded, stepping back, her shawl settling as she turned. "You better. And no more girls' rooms, huh?"

"No promises," he teased, dodging her playful swat, and watched her go, her figure fading into the dusk-lit path. Barnaby stood beside him, quiet now, his gentle smile warm.

"She's proud of you," Barnaby said, kicking a pebble. "We all are."

"Yeah," Roderic murmured, the key heavy in his pocket, Tansy's laughter echoing in his ears. The academy loomed around him—dorms, fields, towers—a new world he'd carve a place in, for her, for them. The girl's image flickered again—lush, furious—but he pushed it down, focusing on the promise he'd made. Night fell, and he headed back to Room 12.