Dual Cultivation Path

The sun dipped low as Roderic Vane trudged back to Hearth Hollow, the wooden chit from the Verdant Crest Academy clutched tight in his hand. Its rune pressed into his palm, a tangible promise of tomorrow's test, and his chest thrummed with a mix of triumph and nerves. The academy's gates, Jorin's sneers, the disciple's smirk—they spun in his mind, but beneath it all, his qi hummed steady and sure, a flame the relic had forged. He'd pass. He had to. And when he did, Tansy would never scrub another pot for coppers again.

The village came into view, its mud huts bathed in the orange glow of dusk, smoke curling from cookfires into the cooling air. His boots crunched over the familiar dirt path, past the market stalls closing up, vendors haggling over wilted greens. The heat in his gut flared again—that strange, restless simmer he couldn't shake—but he grinned through it, too buoyed by the day to care. He'd figure it out later. Right now, he had something to share, something he'd kept bottled too long.

The shack loomed ahead, its sagging roof and patched walls a stark contrast to the academy's jade spires. Roderic pushed the door open, hinges groaning, and stepped inside. The main room was dim, the hearth a faint glow of embers, the air thick with the damp of poverty. Tansy sat at the table, her chestnut curls tied back with a scrap of cloth, her freckled hands sorting a meager haul—a handful of roots and a bruised turnip from her market bartering. Her green eyes flicked up, bright despite the gloom, and she smirked.

"Back from your 'sick day,' huh?" she said, voice teasing as she tossed a root into a chipped bowl. "Tarn's gonna skin you tomorrow."

Roderic kicked off his boots, the chit still in his hand, and leaned against the wall, grinning wider than he meant to. "Not going to the quarry tomorrow, Tansy. Got something better."

She snorted, not looking up, her fingers deftly peeling the turnip. "Better? What, you find a copper mine in the scrub? Or did Gritch finally pay you to stop glaring at him?"

He laughed, short and sharp, and crossed to the table, dropping the chit in front of her. It clattered against the wood, the rune catching the emberlight. "No mine. No Gritch. This."

Tansy paused, squinting at the chit, then at him. "What's that supposed to be? Some trinket you scavenged?" She picked it up, turning it over, her brow furrowing. "Looks like something the peddler'd sell for a bent coin."

"It's from the Verdant Crest," he said, voice low but firm, watching her face. "Registration for the talent test. Tomorrow at dawn."

Her hand froze, the chit halfway to her lap, and she stared at him, green eyes wide. Then she laughed—a loud, incredulous burst that filled the shack. "The academy? You? Roderic, what're you playing at? You don't even have qi worth a rat's tail!"

He didn't flinch, just kept grinning, the qi in his core pulsing as if eager to prove her wrong. "I didn't. Not before. Things've changed."

Tansy set the chit down, leaning back with her arms crossed, skepticism etched into every freckle. "Changed? You've been hauling stone your whole life, barely scraping by, and now you're what—an academy hopeful? Come off it, Roderic. If this is a joke, it's not funny."

"It's no joke," he said, stepping closer, his shadow falling over the table. "I've got qi now—real qi. Enough to pass their test. Enough to get us out of this hole."

She rolled her eyes, pushing the turnip aside. "Qi? You? Last I checked, you couldn't light a spark if your life depended on it. The elder said your core was dead, remember? 'Stick to the shovel,' he told you. What's this, some daydream you cooked up skipping work?"

Roderic's grin faltered, but only for a heartbeat. He'd expected this—her doubt, her sharp tongue honed by years of fending off his wilder ideas. "It was dead," he admitted, pulling out a stool and sitting across from her. "Until two nights ago. I found something in the quarry—a relic, Tansy. Old, strange, humming like it was alive. I brought it home, tried to figure it out, and it… exploded."

Her smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of worry. "Exploded? Here? Roderic, what—"

"I'm fine," he cut in, raising a hand. "Better than fine. When it blew, it broke into shards—tiny bits that sank into me. Into my core, my meridians. I passed out, woke up, and—" He paused, leaning forward, voice dropping. "I felt it. Qi, real qi, stronger than anything I've ever had. It's in me now."

Tansy stared, mouth half-open, then shook her head, curls bouncing. "You're mad. Shards? Sinking into you? That's not how cultivation works—it's training, sects, years of breathing in circles, not some quarry junk blowing up in your face!"

"I know how it sounds," he said, exasperated, running a hand through his dark hair. "I didn't believe it myself at first. But it's true. I've been meditating, stabilizing it. Yesterday, I fought off Dren and his lot in the scrub—three of them, Tansy, and I didn't even break a sweat."

"Dren?" Her brows shot up, skepticism warring with curiosity. "That ox? You? Roderic, you're tall, sure, but you've never been a fighter. He'd snap you like a twig."

"Not anymore," he said, leaning back, arms crossed now, mirroring her. "I'm faster, stronger. The qi did it. And tomorrow, I'll prove it at the academy. They take talent for free—no coin, no clan. If I pass, I'm in."

She picked up the chit again, turning it over, her fingers tracing the rune. "And you think this… relic magic's enough? Against all those sect brats with their fancy tutors?"

"I do," he said, voice steady, hazel eyes locked on hers. "It's not just a spark, Tansy. It's a flame—small, maybe, but growing. I can feel it. I'll pass."

She set the chit down, quiet now, her gaze flicking between it and him. "You're serious," she said at last, voice softer, searching. "You really believe this."

"Dead serious," he replied, nodding. "But I'm not asking you to trust my word. I'll show you."

Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. "Show me? What, you gonna punch the wall or something?"

"Better," he said, standing and stepping back from the table. "Watch." He closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and reached for the qi in his core. It answered, warm and eager, flowing through his meridians like a river breaking free. He focused it into his legs, bent his knees, and leapt—not high, not wild, but a smooth arc that carried him over the table to land lightly beside the hearth, boots barely stirring the dirt floor.

Tansy yelped, jolting upright, the stool scraping back. "What the—Roderic!" Her eyes widened, hands gripping the table's edge as she stared at him across the room. "How'd you do that?"

He turned, grinning, the qi still tingling in his limbs. "That's the qi. Told you—it's real."

She didn't speak, just gaped, her freckles stark against paling skin. Then she stood, crossing to him in three quick strides, and grabbed his arm, turning it over like she'd find the trick. "You jumped—over the table—like it was nothing! You've never moved like that!"

"Because I couldn't," he said, letting her tug at his sleeve, his grin softening. "Not before the relic. It's in me now, Tansy—my core, my meridians, all of it. Stronger than ever."

She dropped his arm, stepping back, her breath shaky. "That's… impossible. You're not lying, are you? This isn't some game?"

"No game," he said, crouching to meet her eye level, voice earnest. "I swear it. I found the relic, it changed me, and now I've got a shot at the academy. For us."

Tansy blinked, then laughed—a short, stunned sound that grew into something brighter, her hands flying to her mouth. "You're serious! You're—you're a cultivator! Roderic, you idiot, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Didn't know if it'd stick," he admitted, standing again, rubbing his neck. "Had to be sure. But after yesterday—fighting Dren, getting the chit—I couldn't keep it in."

She lunged forward, throwing her arms around him, a fierce hug that caught him off guard. "You're insane! A relic? Qi? The academy? I thought you'd lost it last night with that yell, but this—"

He hugged her back, laughing now too, the sound echoing in the shack. "Lost it a little, maybe. But it's real, Tansy. Tomorrow, I'll pass that test, and we're done with this place."

She pulled back, eyes shining, her grin wide and wild. "Done? You mean it? No more quarry, no more scrubbing pots?"

"No more," he said, nodding, the chit glinting on the table behind her. "If I'm in, they train me—free. I'll get stronger, earn coin, get us a proper house. No more leaking roofs or thin soup."

Tansy clapped her hands, bouncing on her toes. "A house! With a real bed? And meat—not just roots?"

"Meat every day if I can swing it," he said, chuckling at her glee. "But first, the test. Dawn tomorrow."

She grabbed his hands, squeezing tight. "You'll pass. You have to. After that jump? They'd be fools not to take you."

"They won't say no," he said, squeezing back, his confidence surging. "I've got enough qi now—more than enough for their free spots."

She let go, pacing now, her smock swishing as she thought aloud. "Dawn, huh? You'll need food—something better than flatbread. I'll trade the turnip, get some millet, maybe an egg—"

"Tansy," he cut in, amused, "it's fine. I'll manage."

"No, you won't," she shot back, pointing at him. "You're not going in half-starved. If you're a cultivator now, you eat like one."

He raised his hands, surrendering. "Fine, fine. Egg it is. But don't fuss too much—I need sleep more than food."

"Sleep, then," she said, shooing him toward his room. "I'll wake you when it's ready. And no more yelling tonight, huh? My heart can't take it."

"Deal," he said, grinning as he ducked through the curtain. The pallet creaked under him as he sank down, the chit in his pocket a solid weight. Tansy's excitement lingered in his ears, her faith a balm after the academy's sneers. Tomorrow, he'd prove them all wrong—Jorin, the elders, the heavens. For her, for them both.