Among the books Andrew collected, one stood out—a worn tome with faded leather binding titled "The Path of Body cultivation." Unlike the practical knowledge most texts contained, this one described something far more intriguing: cultivation techniques.
Andrew studied the pages with growing fascination. The book outlined methods to transform the human body systematically, creating a foundation for powers beyond normal human limits. It detailed a progression beginning with skin strengthening, followed by bones, arteries and muscles, and finally internal organs. Each phase required meticulous practice and specific breathing patterns.
"Eva, what's a cultivator?" he asked one evening, the heavy book balanced on his small knees.
Eva glanced over, her expression softening at his serious face. "Where did you hear that word?"
"In this book." He turned it toward her, pointing at the detailed illustrations of meridian pathways.
Eva sat beside him, running her fingers over the ancient diagrams. "Those are old stories, Andrew. From before the Collapse. But the techniques are real."
"There are people who can cultivate energy, yes. Special people." Something in her voice changed—a wistful quality that captured his attention.
"Could you do it?"
Eva shook her head. "No, little one. Not everyone has the aptitude."
Later that night, Andrew showed the book to Amara when she returned from her shift. Unlike Eva's gentle dismissal, Amara laughed outright.
"Where did you find this book?" She flipped through the pages carefully. "Most people can't cultivate. The testing centers identified those with potential centuries ago, and they're taken to special academies."
"Have you been tested?" Andrew asked.
"Everyone is tested at birth." Amara's smile turned bitter. "Eva and I both scored fives—completely unsuitable. You need at least a three to even attempt basic techniques, but your aptitude is at 2, which is very good."
Andrew absorbed this information silently. The book had mentioned aptitude levels but hadn't explained the rarity. According to the text, cultivation aptitude ranged from five to one, with one being exceptional.
Andrew waited until late that night when both Eva and Amara had fallen asleep. He slipped from his small bed, taking the cultivation manual with him to the corner of their modest home where moonlight streamed through the window. Cross-legged on the floor, he opened the book to the first chapter: "Foundation of Skin."
The instructions described a meditative state where one could sense the natural energy that flowed through all living things. Most people lived their entire lives oblivious to this force, but cultivators could harness it. Andrew closed his eyes, his two-year-old face scrunched in concentration that would have looked comical to any observer.
Hours passed. Nothing happened.
The next night, he tried again. And the night after. For days, Andrew maintained his secret practice, frustrated but determined. The book warned that connecting to external energy was the most difficult hurdle, but once achieved, the path forward would unfold.
On the fourteenth night, something shifted. A subtle warmth brushed against his senses—not physical, but undeniably present. Andrew nearly lost it in his excitement, but steadied his breathing as the manual instructed. The sensation grew, like standing near an invisible heat source.
"Draw it in," he whispered to himself, following the book's guidance.
The energy responded, flowing into his skin. What started as pleasant warmth quickly intensified. Pain bloomed across his arms, then his chest and face—a burning sensation as if he'd been scalded. The book had warned of this, but experiencing it firsthand nearly broke his concentration.
Andrew bit his lip to keep from crying out. Tears streamed down his face as the energy scorched through his skin cells, restructuring them at a fundamental level. The pain reached a crescendo that threatened to overwhelm him.
Then, abruptly, it stopped.
Andrew collapsed onto his side, panting. His skin tingled with aftershocks, but felt oddly refreshed—like he'd been scrubbed clean from the inside. According to the manual, he'd completed the first of many sessions required to strengthen his skin.
Morning found him exhausted but triumphant. He examined his arms in daylight, disappointed to see no visible change despite the ordeal. The book had mentioned this too—changes would be subtle at first, accumulating gradually.
"You look tired today," Eva commented, brushing his hair during breakfast. "Did you sleep poorly?"
Andrew nodded vaguely. "Just dreams."
"Maybe no stories before bed tonight," she suggested.
Every night thereafter, Andrew continued his secret cultivation. He learned to manage the pain better, to direct the energy more efficiently. Some sessions were worse than others, leaving him shaking and sweating. Yet he persisted, instinctively knowing when to stop before causing real damage to his developing body.
Eva and Amara remained unaware of his activities. They indulged his interest in the cultivation book as a child's passing fascination—after all, many children dreamed of becoming powerful cultivators. They didn't realize that while other children merely played at cultivation, Andrew was actually progressing, step by painful step.
His skin gradually became more resilient. Minor scratches that would have drawn blood now barely marked him. Sunburn affected him less. These changes were subtle enough that neither Eva nor Amara noticed, and Andrew kept his progress to himself, a secret triumph known only to him.
The sterile white testing chamber felt different this time. Andrew sat across from two Matriarchy officials in their formal gray uniforms, their expressions unreadable as they ran their instruments over his small body. The routine checkup had taken an unexpected turn when one examiner's eyes widened at her readings.
"Run that again," she instructed her colleague.
The second scan confirmed the first. The women exchanged glances.
"Andrew," the senior examiner said carefully, "how long have you been practicing cultivation techniques?"
The question hung in the air. Behind him, Eva shifted uncomfortably. Andrew considered lying but decided against it.
"Since I was two," he answered simply.
The room fell silent. Eva gasped.
"That's impossible," the younger examiner whispered. "He would have been practicing for—"
"Almost half a year," the senior examiner finished, her eyes never leaving Andrew. "And he's achieved seventy percent completion of skin cultivation. Without instruction."
Eva stepped forward. "There must be some mistake. Andrew doesn't practice cultivation."
"I do," Andrew said. "At night, when you're asleep and sometimes during the day."
Eva's face registered shock, then hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you'd stop me."
The senior examiner placed her device on the table. "Young man, where did you learn these techniques?"
"From a book."
"Which book?"
"The Path of Body Cultivation. I got those books from you."
The examiners exchanged another significant look. That particular text was considered advanced even for new students at the Vavilon academy of cultivation.
"And you understood it? Implemented the techniques correctly?" The disbelief in her voice was evident.
Andrew nodded. "The first part was hardest. Finding the energy."
The senior examiner leaned forward. "Show me your palm."
Andrew extended his hand. She pressed a thin metal needle against his skin—hard enough that it should have drawn blood. Instead, it barely left an indentation.
"Remarkable," she breathed.
What followed was three hours of intensive testing. They questioned him about cultivation theory, had him read complex texts aloud, tested his knowledge of history, mathematics, and science. With each correct answer, their expressions grew more astonished.
"He has the knowledge base of a child three times his age," the younger examiner noted.
Eva and Amara stood silently in the corner, their faces a mixture of pride and bewilderment.
"How is this possible?" Amara finally asked. "We've seen him reading, but..."
"I just remember things," Andrew offered.
The senior examiner made notes on her tablet. "It's not just memory. He demonstrates comprehension and application skills far beyond his developmental stage. Combined with his cultivation progress..." She paused, considering her words carefully. "We're looking at unprecedented aptitude. Not just in cultivation, but in cognitive development."
"What does this mean for him?" Eva asked, her voice small.
"It means," the examiner said, "that Andrew requires specialized education immediately. His designation is being upgraded to 'comprehension genius.'"
The words hung heavy in the room. Andrew understood their implications better than anyone.
"Can I be come schooled? I am scared to leave mommy." he asked.
The Matriarchy officials spent three days deliberating Andrew's case. During this time, Eva barely slept, terrified they would take her son away to some distant academy. Andrew watched her worry with a calculated patience unusual for a child his age.
When they finally returned, the senior examiner carried a formal document bearing the Matriarchy's seal.
"We've reached a decision," she announced in their small living room. "Andrew will remain home with his mother."
Eva's shoulders sagged with relief. She pulled Andrew close, kissing the top of his head.
"However," the examiner continued, "his gifts cannot go uncultivated. A student from Vavilon academy will tutor him three times weekly."
Andrew nodded, satisfaction flickering across his features. This arrangement gave him exactly what he wanted—guidance without separation from Eva, and most importantly, without surrendering complete control to the Matriarchy.
"The tutor will report directly to the academy regarding his progress," the younger examiner added. "This is... unusual. Typically, children with exceptional aptitude are brought into full-time training, but the child is too young so he will study home until the age of seven."