"Let us see if you can hold the sun," Yoriichi whispered to the blade.
He widened his stance. His breathing changed.
"Total Concentration Breathing."
The air around him heated up. The dew on the grass evaporated instantly, creating a small ring of fog around his feet. His heart hammered against his ribs like a war drum.
He didn't channel raw Dou Qi. He channeled the concept of the Sun. He ignited his Qi, forcing the milky white energy to spin and burn.
"Sun Breathing, First Form..."
He visualized the solar flare. He pushed his internal energy to the absolute limit, flooding the iron blade with his super-compressed, fiery Qi.
The sword reacted instantly.
It didn't sing; it screamed.
A high-pitched whine emitted from the metal as the atoms began to vibrate violently. The leather wrapping on the hilt began to smoke before he even moved.
"...Dance."
He slashed.
It was a single, simple vertical strike. But in that movement was the perfection of a lifetime.
A massive arc of blinding, solar fire erupted from the blade. For a split second, the clearing was lit as if it were high noon. The shadows were banished. The heat was intense enough to scorch the bark of the trees ten feet away.
But the slash never completed.
SHATTER.
Before the blade could even cut the wind, a catastrophic failure occurred.
The iron sword exploded.
It couldn't handle the sheer thermal shock or the density of Yoriichi's Qi. The metal didn't just break; it disintegrated into shrapnel.
ZING. ZING.
Shards of red-hot iron flew outward like a grenade blast. One shard whizzed past Yoriichi's cheek, cutting a single strand of hair. Another buried itself in the trunk of the oak tree with a thud.
The hilt in Yoriichi's hand turned white-hot.
"Drop it."
He opened his hand, letting the smoking, melted stump of a handle fall to the grass. It hissed as it touched the damp earth.
The arc of fire dissipated, leaving only the smell of ozone, burnt leather, and failure.
Yoriichi stood there, staring at the ruin on the ground. He wasn't surprised, but a deep frown touched his lips.
"Meaningless," he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration.
He looked at the melted lump of iron. "It crumbled instantly. Not even a single form could be completed. The conductivity was too low. The heat accumulation was too high."
He sighed, realizing the gravity of his situation.
"If I fight a strong opponent with a common weapon, I will be disarmed in the first exchange. I cannot use the Sun Breathing with these toys. They are insults to the technique. They are dangerous to me."
The reality was stark. He had the software of a god—the ultimate breathing technique—but the hardware of a mortal.
"I need a Katana," he decided firmly. "A weapon forged with folding techniques to handle the stress. And since no one in this empire forges them... I must forge it myself. Tie Shan's offer... I must accept it sooner than I planned."
He didn't wait. The noise of the shattering sword might have attracted attention, though the dense forest likely dampened the sound.
He turned and began the run back.
He moved swiftly, his mind racing as fast as his feet. As the trees blurred past him in a kaleidoscope of shadows, he began to analyze his situation.
"I have the power of a 9-Star Dou Disciple. My burst speed is high. But my offense is limited to hand-to-hand combat until I get a weapon."
He vaulted back over the clan wall, slipping into the shadows like a wisp of smoke. He reached his infirmary, opened the door, and slipped inside.
He sat on the bed, his chest heaving slightly—not from exhaustion, but from the adrenaline of the failed test.
He pulled the tray of food closer. The fish was cold, the pieces congealed, but to Yoriichi, it was fuel. He ate methodically, his mind still chewing on the problem of power.
His thoughts drifted to the person responsible for his current state.
"Xiao Yan," he thought, the name surfacing with a sense of danger.
From Xiao Ning's memories, he recalled the fight in vivid detail. He replayed the moment of impact.
"He used a mysterious.... palm technique. It was more of like an explosive, internal-destruction technique."
Yoriichi paused, a piece of fish suspended in his chopsticks.
"The force... it felt like multiple layers of energy stacking on top of each other. That is not a Huang-Rank technique. That is Xuan-Rank, at minimum. Perhaps even Di-Rank."
He narrowed his eyes.
"The Xiao Clan does not possess such a technique. If they did, the Elders would be using it. The Clan Leader would be using it."
He swallowed the food, his mind working like a detective.
"And his Dou Qi... during the fight, he was exhausted. But seconds later, his energy spiked. He recovered unnaturally fast. He went from a cripple to a genius in a year. That is biologically impossible without external aid."
Yoriichi closed his eyes, accessing the strategic mind that had once hunted the progenitor of demons.
"Sudden rise in power. Unknown high-tier techniques. A confidence that borders on arrogance. The way he touches that ring on his finger when he thinks no one is looking."
He opened his eyes, the crimson irises glowing in the dark.
"Inheritance. Or hmm.... someone helping him?."
He deduced it with cold certainty.
"But He is not alone. He has a backer. Just as that girl, Xiao Xun Er, has a backer."."
He finished the food and set the tray aside.
"This small clan... it is a nest of dragons and tigers. I am surrounded by mysteries. If I expose myself too early, I will be targeted by forces I cannot yet see."
He lay back down, pulling the blanket up.
"I must be careful. I cannot reveal my full strength until I have a weapon that can bear it. I must be as mysterious as them. I must survive."
He closed his eyes. The Selfless State expanded again, covering the room in a web of perception.
"It is an exciting, yet dangerous journey for a warrior," he thought, his hand resting on his chest where his heart beat steady and strong.
"Wish me luck, Brother. Uta."
"Good night."
He fell asleep instantly, his body sinking into the restorative darkness. The nights are short, but the journey is long for a sun breather warrior.