The sun was a dim orange, sinking behind the hills, casting long shadows across the courtyard. It felt like time itself was standing still, and yet, every second seemed to stretch out indefinitely. I was standing in front of Qin Shi Huang—an icon from history, a figure larger than life, and now my teacher.
I wasn't sure what to expect from this training. In the world I came from, I didn't need to fight. Life was simple—easy, even. Now, as I stood before the emperor of all men, I realized how painfully unprepared I was for the hell I was about to enter.
"Are you ready?" His voice broke through my thoughts, calm and firm, like the force of a tide pulling at the shore. His golden robes shimmered slightly, a symbol of his untouchable power. Yet, there was something about his presence that felt... daunting. He wasn't just a man—he was the embodiment of will, of determination.
I nodded, unable to speak. Words felt insufficient in the face of the challenge ahead.
"Then we begin," he said, his gaze sharp as he turned toward the open space between us, the worn stone floor stretching out before us like an empty battlefield. "Your training will not be easy. But if you wish to survive, you must be strong. Not just in body, but in mind. First, we build the foundation."
He gestured for me to step forward. My legs moved automatically, but my thoughts were elsewhere—tangled in the fear of failure. How could I, someone so inexperienced, ever hope to stand up to the nightmares I was about to face?
"Chi You," he said as we stopped. "This is the first step—the foundation of your strength."
I watched as Qin Shi Huang took a slow, deliberate stance. His movements were measured, precise, like a brushstroke from a master painter. He wasn't just standing—he was embodying the very concept of control. His posture, his breath, the tension in his limbs—it all spoke of something ancient, something timeless. He was preparing for something that I couldn't even begin to understand.
He raised his arms slowly, bringing them into a form I had never seen before, a sequence of movements that seemed unnatural at first glance. Then, with a sharp inhale, he executed the form, and I was left staring at the space where he had been.
"Your turn," he said, turning to me with a piercing look. "Copy my movements."
I swallowed, trying to steady my breath. This wasn't a simple task. The forms weren't just about moving your body—they were about synchronization. Mind and body must move as one. If either faltered, the technique would fail.
I hesitated for a moment before I raised my arms. I started slow, mimicking the movements of Qin Shi Huang. But I quickly realized that it wasn't enough to just mimic his motions. My body wasn't used to such precision. My arms felt heavy, my legs shaky. I had barely moved before I felt a sharp pain in my shoulders, as though my muscles were protesting the unnatural positions.
Qin Shi Huang was watching me, silently. I wasn't sure if he was disappointed, or if this was just part of the process. "Again," he commanded.
I didn't have the luxury of time to question myself. I had to keep going.
Again and again, I tried. Each time, my movements were off. My arms didn't align properly, my legs wobbled under the pressure. Sweat dripped down my face, but I didn't stop. Every misstep, every mistake, felt like a personal failure. But somewhere deep down, something in me began to stir—a tiny spark, a whisper that this wasn't impossible. It just required more.
"Focus on your center," Qin Shi Huang said, his voice low. "The Chi You is not a technique of strength alone. It is a balance of power and control. Your body and mind must be as one."
I took a deep breath and tried again, this time with more intent. I focused on my core, trying to feel the energy flowing through my body, guiding my limbs. Slowly, the movements became less awkward. My arms, while still trembling, were beginning to fall into place. My legs, still unsure, were less shaky.
I moved through the sequence once more, this time with less hesitation, but still far from perfection. It was nothing like Qin Shi Huang's fluidity. But the effort felt less strained, more natural.
"Better," he said, his tone unchanged. "But it is still weak. You are not just moving your body. You are commanding it."
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Commanding it. I had been letting my body dictate my actions, instead of controlling it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had been letting my fears control me. Fear of failing, fear of not measuring up, fear of not being good enough.
But this world wasn't going to wait for me to overcome those fears. There was no time for hesitation. There was only the now.
I steadied my breath, pushing those fears aside. I focused on the movement, on my center, on the form. I felt the tension in my legs, the strength in my arms, the subtle pulse of energy running through my body. The pain, while still present, became something I could ignore—something I could overcome.
I went through the motions again, and this time, something clicked. The movements weren't perfect, but they were better. My body felt more at ease, and the pain was no longer overwhelming. It was manageable. Control was returning.
Qin Shi Huang nodded. "You will need to repeat this every day. Your body must become accustomed to this form, and your mind must learn to command it."
He stepped back, his gaze sharp. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we begin again. This was only the beginning."