A few days into muscle tempering, it had proven far more challenging than Adam originally thought.

  It’s like my muscles reject the Qi… they’re too weak. Too fragile to absorb it.

  Skin strengthening had worked because it required so much less. But muscles—they were deeper, more complex. Alive in ways skin wasn’t.

  I’m too weak to go harder… and I can’t afford to go slower.

  Adam carefully tried to force just a bit more. Maybe his willpower could overcome the pain.

  But he winced.

  From across the room, his mother stirred. Her footsteps rushed closer. Adam quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep.

  “Poor baby,” Irina whispered. “Must be having a nightmare.”

  She patted his back gently and left after a few moments.

  Damn it… I can’t even go a single percent harder.

  Adam exhaled slowly, then closed his eyes again. He continued at the same frustratingly slow pace.

  Later that evening

  Wrapped in a tiny blanket, Adam sat on a cushion, watching from the porch as his father trained in the yard.

  Lake stood shirtless under the moonlight. His skin shimmered faintly with sweat, muscles flexing with each rhythmic motion. He wasn’t cultivating Qi in the spiritual sense—he was cultivating his body.

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  Lake let out a sharp exhale and dropped into a horse stance, a heavy log balanced across his shoulders. His arms trembled slightly, but his form remained solid. There was no protective Qi flow.

  He was straining his body to strengthen it.

  Adam’s eyes widened.

  He watched more closely now.

  He’s letting his body adapt to pressure first… then reinforcing it.

  Lake slammed a foot into the ground. A short burst of earthy Qi rippled outward. His veins bulged. Muscles coiled, then unwound like springs.

  Adam stared in silence.

  And then—it clicked.

  It’s not about using Qi to do the work. It’s about creating tension—natural stress—and then using Qi to stabilize the damage, not prevent it.

  I’ve been doing it backwards.

  Alright, Father. I see now.

  But how do I strain my muscles as a baby…?

  He extended his arm and flexed it as hard as he could, breathing slowly. As he felt the muscle strain, he began channeling Qi—not to shield it, but to reinforce it. To fill in the gaps.

  It’s working… I figured it out!

  He stretched each limb, held it, then tempered it. Curled his stomach until his tiny abs trembled with pain. Slowly, deliberately, he worked through every major muscle group.

  It was exhausting—but he had finally found a method that worked.

  This just leaves… my back. That’s tricky.

  I can’t strain what I can’t even control properly.

  Then, a thought.

  Carefully, Adam flipped over onto his stomach. The blanket crumpled beneath him. He placed his palms flat and pushed—not enough to rise, but enough to lift his chest slightly off the cushion.

  His back muscles tensed.

  There.

  It was subtle. A shallow movement. But his lower back twitched, and his shoulder blades drew together under the strain.

  He focused. Breathed slowly.

  Then, he channeled Qi into that fragile tension point—gently reinforcing the stress without overwhelming it.

  It wasn’t perfect. It was awkward. He slipped once, let out a faint grunt, then tried again.

  Bit by bit. Tension first. Then the Qi.

  He repeated it. Again and again. Slowly. Until his tiny arms gave out and he collapsed into the pillow with a soft thump.

  The pain was real. The ache spread evenly now—arms, legs, stomach… and finally, his back.

  Adam smiled.

  Now, this... this is real muscle tempering.