After dinner, Kaisin and Laurel strolled through the illuminated streets of Grand Ridge City. Despite the light from the lanterns that hung in festive arrays above them, a shadow lingered over Kaisin, cast by the disdainful glances and mocking words from earlier in the evening. Laurel, sensing her brother's disquiet, steered their walk toward one of their favorite spots in the city—a quiet, secluded park known for its tranquil atmosphere and beautiful night-blooming flowers.
As they walked, Laurel broke the silence, her voice thoughtful. "You know, Kaisin, people like Alden and Lady Cynthia... they thrive on seeing others falter. You can't let them get to you."
Kaisin nodded, his mood lightening slightly. "I know, it's just hard sometimes. It feels like no matter what I do, it's never enough for... anyone."
"That's not true," Laurel countered firmly. "You've always been enough for me, for our family. It's just that... sometimes, I think you need to believe it yourself."
Kaisin sighed, a wry smile forming as he glanced at his sister. "Maybe you should be the one training to be a diplomat. You're better at negotiations than I am."
Laurel laughed softly, bumping her shoulder against his. "Maybe, but then who would save you from fiery orbs and runaway reputations?"
Their light laughter echoed in the quiet night, bouncing softly off the stone paths that wound through the park. As they reached their favorite bench, they sat down, taking in the serene view of a small pond that reflected the starlit sky.
It was then that Kaisin's expression shifted, a determined look replacing the earlier uncertainty. "You're right, Laurel. I've been letting others dictate how I feel about myself. Maybe it's time I focused on what I can control—like mastering the War State Technique."
Laurel nodded approvingly. "Exactly! And remember, it's not about proving yourself to anyone. It's about proving to yourself that you can overcome these challenges. You have the strength, Kaisin, you always have. Just let it show."
Kaisin's eyes hardened with resolve. "I will. And I think I know where to start. That martial arts competition is coming up—it's the perfect place to hone and perfect my skills. Maybe it will give me the push I need to advance in my training."
"That's the spirit!" Laurel exclaimed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "And I'll be right there with you. We'll go together."
Their conversation drifted to other topics, from plans for the upcoming festival to lighter, everyday matters. As they made their way home, the streets of Grand Ridge City felt a little less daunting, the shadows a little less oppressive.
At the Warflow estate's secluded training hall, Kaisin unfurled ancient scrolls, each inscribed with the secrets of the War State Technique. The hall, vast and echoing with the quiet of centuries, was an ideal backdrop for the day's rigorous training. Under the high vaulted ceilings, Kaisin moved with purpose, his every step and breath a testament to his dedication.
His initial exercises focused on breathing. The technique demanded more than physical control; it required a union of body and mind, a harmony that could only be achieved through perfect respiratory discipline. Standing in the center of the hall, Kaisin practiced deep, measured breaths. Each inhale was slow, drawing in the stillness of the surrounding air, and each exhale was a deliberate release, a vanishing of presence. This breathing not only calmed his mind but also prepared his body for the strenuous physical invisibility that the three arts required.
"The Fearless Phantom Step, balance and breath, the scrolls emphasize these," Kaisin murmured to himself, rolling his shoulders back and planting his feet firmly on the ground. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of all but the task at hand. "Become one with the shadow. Move like the wind, unseen, unheard."
Starting with the basics, Kaisin focused on his breathing. Each inhale was deep, drawing in the stillness of the hall, and each exhale was a deliberate effort to erase his presence. "Invisibility is more than speed; it's about the silence of existence," he whispered, practicing slow, deliberate steps across the floor. He listened to the soft sounds his feet made, each step a soft whisper against the stone. "Too loud," he sighed, adjusting his stance and trying again.
With each attempt, Kaisin became more frustrated. "Focus, Kaisin. The masters of old wouldn't falter at the first sign of difficulty." Shaking off his irritation, he tried a different approach, incorporating more fluid, sweeping motions, his robes fluttering silently behind him as he moved. "Better, but not enough. The shadow still knows too much of my presence."
Determined to conquer the technique, Kaisin set up a series of challenges for himself. He arranged wooden dummies around the hall, using them as focal points for his practice. "Strike without a trace," he instructed himself, darting toward a dummy. He aimed a strike and swiftly moved away, watching carefully to see if the dummy vibrated from the force of his passing. "Still too much impact. Again."
As hours passed, Kaisin's self-dialogue continued, a constant stream of critique and encouragement. "The breath, it's key. Mask your movements with it," he reminded himself, syncing his steps with each exhale, trying to minimize the noise even further. This time, when he passed the dummy, there was barely a stir. "Yes, that's it! Like a ghost…"
Encouraged by his progress, Kaisin added complexity to his training. He hung light cloths from the ceiling and attempted to navigate through them without causing any to sway. "Like weaving through raindrops without causing a ripple," he mused, carefully threading his way through. The first few attempts were met with the soft sounds of moving silk. "Again, failure teaches more than success," Kaisin muttered under his breath, resetting his position at the start of the makeshift silk maze. With each attempt, he refined his movements, his body growing more adept at slipping through narrow spaces without contact.
"Concentration, the mind must lead the body." He paused, focusing intently on the path ahead, visualizing his movement before executing it. This time, as he glided through the cloths, there was no sound, no disturbance. "Progress," he breathed out a sigh of relief, a small smile breaking his intense concentration.
As the day waned into evening, Kaisin decided to integrate shadow play into his training. The flickering torchlight created a dynamic environment of moving shadows. "Merge with these shadows," he coached himself, observing how the light and darkness shifted across the floor. Moving with the shadows, he attempted to make his presence as elusive as the light itself. Initially, his body was too distinct against the fleeting light. "Too solid, too real. Fade, you must fade more," he chastised himself, feeling the weight of his own visibility.
With renewed determination, Kaisin retraced his steps, this time paying closer attention to the rhythm of the shifting light. He moved when the light moved, stopped when it stopped, blending his actions with the natural flow of the environment. After several tries, he managed to move across the hall, his figure intermittently vanishing into the darkness. "Closer to a phantom than ever," he noted, the satisfaction evident in his tone.
To further test his skill, Kaisin set up a simple bell at one end of the hall. "If I can reach the bell and ring it without the echo of my approach, then I will have truly mastered the step." He positioned himself at the opposite end, took a deep, grounding breath, and dashed forward, his feet barely skimming the floor. The first attempt resulted in a faint ringing echo preceding his touch. "Again, focus," he murmured, resetting his position. This time, he concentrated on softening his footfalls even more, blending his steps with his controlled breathing, each movement calculated and precise. The hall remained silent until the clear, deliberate chime of the bell signaled his success. "Yes, but consistency is the key," Kaisin reminded himself, not allowing the victory to overshadow the need for repetition.
For the next few days, Kaisin repeated the exercise, each time adjusting his speed, his stealth, and his strategy based on the previous attempt's weaknesses. Sometimes the bell would sound a premature echo, other times he would reach it with the desired silence, his approach as elusive as a shadow. "Patience and persistence," he repeated like a mantra, each iteration bringing him closer to the seamless execution of the Fearless Phantom Step.
As night deepened, bringing a cooler air into the hall, Kaisin's thoughts turned inward. "What does it mean to move unseen? Is it the absence of light, or the presence of something less tangible?" He pondered this, realizing that the technique was not only about physical capability but also about understanding deeper philosophical concepts of presence and absence.
To deepen his practice, Kaisin decided to incorporate blindfolded training. By removing his sight, he forced himself to heighten his other senses. "Trust your instincts, your training," he advised himself, tying a cloth around his eyes. Blindfolded, he moved through the hall, relying purely on spatial awareness and memory. Initially, he stumbled, disoriented by the darkness. "Trust is earned," he grumbled, steadying himself.
Gradually, as he continued to move blindfolded, his movements became more assured, guided by intuition and a deep sense of the environment around him. "Invisibility isn't just about not being seen, it's about not being felt," he realized, a breakthrough in his understanding of the Phantom Step.
Finally, Kaisin removed the blindfold, his eyes adjusting to the low light of the hall. He felt different, more in tune with his surroundings, and with a newfound depth to his technique. With a calm clarity, he approached the series of exercises once more, each step deliberate and unhurried.