Chapter 14: The Dance of Yin and Yang
After Fang's sword slash left a gleaming cut in the mountainside, Master called for a break. The sky was sliding toward evening now—orange and purple streaks spilled over the distant peaks. They settled under an ancient tree, the kind with roots so thick you'd swear it had seen whole dynasties rise and fall. A stream gurgled nearby, its sound soothing after the clamor of training.
Fang sat cross-legged, qi still swirling inside her as she tried to recover. Master just leaned against the tree, looking as casual as ever, a blade of spiritual grass dangling from his lips.
"You're getting the hang of compression," he said at last, chewing a bit on the grass. "But since you've got both Origin Roots, there's something bigger you need to master—how yin and yang qi play together inside you."
At those words, Fang instantly snapped to attention. She didn't want to miss a thing.
Master's tone hardly shifted—still mild, a little lazy—but what he said carried weight. "People always talk about yin and yang like they're fighting. They're not. They define each other. Without one, the other can't exist. Most cultivators only have to worry about one type, so balance isn't a huge struggle for them. But you? You've got to figure out how to keep them working together because if you don't, they'll rip you apart from the inside."
He lifted one hand, and a small orb of bright golden yang qi flickered to life above his palm. In the other, a silvery globe of yin qi shimmered—cool, tranquil, but somehow just as alive.
"Watch carefully."
The two orbs moved closer. The air vibrated. At first, they repelled each other with bursts of sparks, lashing out in all directions.
"That's what happens to beginners with dual roots. Raw yang qi wants to explode, burn through everything. Raw yin is sly—it wants to freeze and absorb, swallow things up. When you don't control them, they crash together and make a mess of your body. Stuck meridians, brutal injuries, sometimes even death."
Then Master rotated his wrists and the energy changed shape. The orbs spun around each other, chasing endlessly like a taiji diagram—one black, one white, swirling in a perfect, natural rhythm.
"This… this is the state you're aiming for. Supreme Harmony. Yang's all power and drive—pushing forward, tearing past limits. Yin's about restraint, control; it keeps things from slipping into chaos. Ideally, yang qi stops yin from getting too heavy and dead, and yin keeps yang from burning out of control. Nurtured together, they don't just add up—they multiply. The result is qi that's not only stable, but scarily strong."
He let the spinning orbs dissolve and fixed his gaze on Fang.
"Your case is even more extreme," he went on. "Your roots aren't just any roots. They're Origin Roots—the beginning of all yin and yang. Your Blessed Devil Root creates untamed, powerful yang. Your Cursed Immortal Root brings forth pure, self-healing yin. Merge them well, and they don't just balance one another. They bring each other to life, make each other sharper. That's why your attacks can be so much more devastating, and your healings so much deeper."
He reached out and tapped her shoulder—light, but it sent a jolt through her.
"Think back to that last slash you made. You shoved yang qi together, compressing it for strength. If you wrap that power in just a little yin, the attack doesn't just hit harder—it also holds its shape, slices cleaner, and lasts longer. For healing, yin does the fixing, but yang boosts how fast you recover. Defending? Yin drinks up the enemy's force, then yang surges out to hit back. The stronger you get at letting them move and swap places, the more unbeatable you become."
Fang listened in total silence, her hands opening and closing at her knees as she tried to sense the subtle swirl of two forces inside her. They felt alive, almost restless—like two different melodies waiting to harmonize.
"Master… how do I actually use this balance in a fight?" she finally asked.
For once, Master smiled—no teasing, just real pride.
"You practice until you don't have to think about it. When you channel your qi, never let all of it go to just one side. Always keep some yin with your yang. Always a thread of yang in your yin. Don't let one overwhelm the other—or you'll get sloppy, then you'll get hurt. In a battle, it's a dance. They take turns leading, then switch in a heartbeat. Your Immortal Root makes you nearly impossible to finish off—you keep bouncing back. Your Devil Root means your blows hit harder than most could handle. Master that back-and-forth, and there's not a soul in your realm who'll be able to stand against you."
He stood up, stretched in that loose, lazy way of his, and nodded toward the hut in the distance.
"Enough lectures for today. Tomorrow we get practical. For now—spirit bath time. After all that yang, your meridians must feel like lightning ran wild in them."
Fang nodded and bowed, something shifting inside her. She understood now—this weird, potent power moving through her blood wasn't meant to be split or squared off. It was a living cycle of creation and destruction, dancing together.
As she made her way toward the hut, Master watched quietly, eyes hard to read, thoughts ticking away.
The stronger she gets, the more valuable she'll become. And the more dangerous.
He gave a low chuckle, rolling the stem of grass between his fingers.
"You monster… the world's not ready for you."