Chapter 9: Old Scroll, New Power – Ghost Shadow Steps
The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of neon lights filtering through the cracks in our latest hideout—a decrepit apartment tucked into the shadows of Neo-Aurion's undercity. Lin Wei and I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered supplies and half-empty takeout boxes. Between us lay the ancient scroll she'd given me days earlier, its edges worn and brittle with age. The air felt heavy with anticipation, as though the secrets it held were alive, waiting to be unleashed.
"This is it," Lin said, her voice low but steady. "One of your ancestors' most prized techniques—*Ghost Shadow Steps*. Mastering it won't just make you faster; it'll change how you move, think, and fight. But it won't come easy."
I glanced at the scroll, my heart pounding. The characters etched onto its surface shimmered faintly, almost glowing in response to my presence. It was like the bloodline branded into my palm recognized it—like it had been waiting for me all along.
"Let's get started," I said firmly.
Lin leaned over the scroll, pointing to a series of intricate diagrams and calligraphy. "The technique revolves around manipulating Qi flow through specific meridians," she explained. "It requires precision and control—not brute force. Rush it, and you'll destabilize your Qi, leaving yourself vulnerable."
I nodded, committing her words to memory. The first diagram depicted a human figure with glowing lines tracing pathways across their body. These were the meridians—the channels that allowed cultivators to harness and direct Qi. The second diagram showed overlapping circles, representing the ebb and flow of energy needed to achieve fluid movement.
"It's not just about speed," Lin continued. "It's about adaptability. Imagine water flowing around obstacles instead of crashing against them. That's what *Ghost Shadow Steps* is meant to emulate."
"Sounds simple enough," I muttered sarcastically.
She smirked. "Talk to me after three hours of practice."
For the next several hours, Lin drilled me relentlessly. We began with basic exercises designed to enhance my awareness of Qi flow. She had me focus on visualizing the energy coursing through my body, channeling it into precise patterns before releasing it in controlled bursts.
"Feel it," she instructed, pacing around me. "Don't just move—become the movement."
At first, progress was agonizingly slow. Every attempt to mimic the diagrams left me winded, my muscles burning with exertion. My movements were clumsy, disjointed, lacking the grace and efficiency required for true mastery. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.
"Focus!" Lin snapped when I stumbled during a particularly tricky maneuver. "If you can't even master the basics, you'll never survive an actual fight."
"I'm trying!" I shot back, gritting my teeth.
"And yet, you're failing," she countered sharply. "Why? Because you're thinking too much. Stop analyzing every step. Trust your instincts."
Her words struck a chord. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, letting go of the tension gripping my body. Instead of forcing the movements, I let them flow naturally, guided by the rhythm of my heartbeat and the pulse of the fiery symbol on my palm.
And then it clicked.
Energy surged through me, raw and electric, flooding my meridians with power. My feet moved without conscious thought, carrying me forward in seamless strides. For the first time, I understood what Lin meant by becoming the movement.
When I opened my eyes, Lin was watching me with a satisfied nod.
"Better," she admitted. "But don't celebrate yet. You're still far from mastering it."
As dawn approached, we transitioned to more advanced drills. Lin set up obstacles throughout the room—stacks of crates, overturned furniture, anything that could challenge my reflexes. Her instructions were simple: navigate the course using only *Ghost Shadow Steps*. No shortcuts, no mistakes.
The first few attempts were disastrous. I tripped over crates, collided with walls, and nearly face-planted into a pile of cushions. Each failure fueled my determination, pushing me to try harder, move faster, think smarter. Slowly but surely, my coordination improved. By the fifth run, I managed to complete the course without incident.
"That's more like it," Lin said approvingly. "Now do it again. Faster."
By the tenth run, sweat poured down my face, soaking through my shirt. My legs burned, my lungs screamed for air, and my vision blurred from exhaustion. But I didn't stop. With each repetition, the technique became less mechanical and more instinctual. It wasn't just a skill—it was an extension of who I was.
As the sun rose, casting golden light through the grimy windows, something unexpected happened. Midway through another sprint, the fiery symbol on my palm flared brightly, sending waves of heat coursing through my veins. Energy erupted from within me, amplifying my movements to levels I hadn't thought possible.
"What's happening?" I gasped, skidding to a halt.
Lin studied me closely, her expression unreadable. "Your bloodline is evolving," she said finally. "The Celestial Bloodline isn't static—it grows stronger as you push your limits. Looks like you've unlocked a new stage."
"Is that… normal?" I asked, clutching my hand.
"Not exactly," she admitted. "Most cultivators spend years reaching this level of synchronization. You did it in one night."
I frowned. "That doesn't sound safe."
"It's not," she agreed bluntly. "Rapid growth like this can destabilize your Qi flow if you're not careful. One misstep, and you could burn yourself out—or worse."
"So what do I do?"
"Keep training," she replied simply. "Control is key. Harness this power, or it'll consume you."
Just as I was about to ask more questions, the faint buzz of surveillance drones echoed outside the window. Lin froze, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger.
"They found us," she whispered.
My stomach sank. How had they tracked us here? And why now, of all times?
Before I could respond, the door burst open, revealing a squad of heavily armed mercenaries led by none other than Xiao Liang—the same arrogant young master I'd humiliated in the marketplace. His face twisted into a cruel smile as he stepped inside, his lackeys fanning out behind him.
"You really thought you could slap me and walk away?" he sneered. "This ends now."
Lin grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Don't engage directly," she hissed. "Something's off."
Sure enough, Xiao Liang raised his hand, summoning a sphere of crimson flames that crackled ominously in the air.
"Ready to test your new powers?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.
Lin shot me a warning glance. "Be smart about this."
Nodding, I steadied myself, drawing on the Qi flowing through my body. Whatever came next, I was ready—or at least, I hoped I was.
With a roar, Xiao Liang launched the fireball straight at us.
And with that, chaos erupted.