Two days after our stroll in the greenhouse, Zola actually shaved her head. Not completely bald — she'd used a 0.5 guard, so the skin didn't shine but remained rough, like sand on coarse stone. Still, the effect was… noticeable. Very noticeable.

First, the look. She'd never resembled the graceful-lady cultivators from dramas or web novels. I don't remember seeing a single Black one among them, or even anyone with curly hair. Horned ones, red-skinned ones — sure. But Black and curly? Not that I can recall. Though, to be fair, I don't remember much in general—

Wait a minute, I recall…

No. That was a man. And he was a samurai.

Now, though, Zola looked like a recruit on the edge of expulsion from some hardcore marine corps programme — at least judging by the haircut and the bad attitude. Zola had become vicious! She started snapping at people.

Turned out, the short hair hadn't brought liberation, but a new kind of torment. The sheets and pillow clung to her scalp, snagging on the bristly stubble. Every bit of fluff — threads, fallen leaves in the greenhouse — stuck to her like she was a walking lint roller.

"I look like a sticky trap for rubbish!" she growled. "And it's your fault!"

"It's a temporary fix," I reminded her. "Just until you have time to master the curls. Besides, it doesn't itch. It doesn't itch, right?"

"It does!" she shot back, and promised, "I'll get you back for this!"

"You're going to take revenge on the one person you can talk to freely? That'll really send you over the edge," I pointed out.

"I'm already over the edge!"

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered — and got another earful for it.

Still, she'd vented and got back to training, while I messaged Bulsara suggesting he throw in a few tranquillisers to spice up Zola's pill diet.

Meanwhile, Johanson had finally made the decision I'd been hoping for. A day after our chat, he had a long talk with Bao and took him on as a mentee. Whether it was out of curiosity or because he genuinely enjoyed tormenting members of that family, I didn't know. I just hoped it would benefit Feng.

Johanson had good reason not to mess this up. If he could push Feng through to the second year, it'd be a direct slap in the face to the old man. And the old man clearly interested my acquaintance far more than the boy himself.

Bao, unsurprisingly, clung to the opportunity with everything he had — arms, legs and teeth. He looked at Johanson like a lifeline saving him from a fate worse than death.

And, to top it all off, Johanson fulfilled the second half of my request too. He found a mentor for Denis. Not a star, but a steady, practical member of the Hall of Order. He didn't demonstrate techniques on Denis like he was a training dummy, so Denis was thrilled as well. For two days straight, both he and Bao had been absolutely glowing.

I, on the other hand, wasn't so thrilled — even though I probably should've been. After my latest minor breakthrough, I now had two cultivations in the Flow Chamber, and with high certainty I could say my dissipation rate was perfectly average — 97%. That left me with just 3% of the qi that settled in the body under the flow. Which meant I was getting a mere 10 units of qi from a forty-minute session in the chamber.

Cultivation level: 1871/2467.

Hard not to feel a bit gloomy looking at that.

2467 minus 1871 equals 596.

Divide that by 10 — my gain per session — and I'd need 59.6 more sessions. Let's round that to 60. That's 120 days. Four months. Given that two months had already passed, I was on track to reach the second stage within half a year.

Still, I don't need to fill the entire bar with non-dissipated energy. Over the next two-odd months, I'll probably reach the borderline with undispersed qi straight from the Chamber, and then I'll only need an extra 5–10% to trigger a safe breakthrough.

More likely 10 than 5. At 5, the breakthrough wouldn't be all that safe. Plus, breaking through immediately after a full chamber session wasn't advisable — the fatigue would be too much.

So yeah, the timeline could be shortened. I wasn't getting any crystals, so I'd have to go for reassessments instead. Even though they didn't add much to my Chamber time now, each one could still make a difference.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

While I couldn't do anything to speed up my cultivation rate directly, there were plenty of other areas I could work on.

One of them was improving the precision of my Chain Punch. Even light projectiles could do significant damage if you landed a dozen in one spot — which I resolutely failed to do. No such trouble with Hook — that technique was as simple as ABC.

And then there was Mad Monkey, of course. But for now, I was only doing one or two hops with a slight diagonal shift. I wasn't about to break my legs on a more chaotic surface or attempt a more erratic path just yet.

After I lost to Cinar, we'd only had one more spar. Apparently, Kate and Piper had agreed on something, because they didn't let us face off in a proper match. Instead, they made us drill each other's weak spots. And the first for both of us was dodging.

Kate made me dodge Cinar's Lunge, while Piper drilled him on getting around my endless stream of Chain Punches.

We weren't exactly great at it, so we spent plenty of time on our arses in the sand.

Still, the training wasn't for nothing. I thought I had a decent feel for Edge qi already, but now I was sensing another facet — lightness. Seemed like it was this lightness that enabled telekinesis, letting Point cultivators control weapons mid-flight, just like the hardness of Fist Qi allowed for shield creation.

It got me thinking about the nature of qi in general, but I didn't have some grand epiphany. Too much else on my plate — like root development.

I'd raised my Wood root to 15 thanks to the essence vials, but not without surprises. On the third shot, I only got +2 instead of the usual +3. I'd assumed each vial guaranteed at least +1, but turned out that wasn't a sure thing. Apparently, it depended on a bunch of factors — including this unquantifiable "Affinity" value. I didn't bother digging into what kind of beast that was. I just bought one more vial from the shop with points and pushed the Wood value to 15 on the fourth dose.

Time to start actual qi perception training. I'd already had some practice with Cinar, but since we, assistant supervisors had already formed a little mutual support club, I wasn't about to skip it — especially since I'd roped Bao into joining as well.

Sure, the arrangement was that Kowalski would show him Mace Qi in exchange for Denis teaching the rest of us Palm Qi, but I didn't let Bao slack off.

"Do it at least to maintain good relations with the other assistants."

"You know talking to them only reminds me of how badly I screwed up? Not exactly pleasant memories."

"And talking to me doesn't?" I shot back. "Come on! Sun Hao still growls at me because of you, and you got along decently with Lin Jiao. Do it for them, at least."

Bao had always struggled with socialising, especially letting new people into his circle. Lin Jiao and Sun Hao weren't exactly new, but I had no idea what their relationships had been — actual friendship or just alliance between big cultivation families.

Our evening training sessions took place quietly, in the closest available hall we could find near the dorms — a narrow, stifling room with scuffed plastic walls and a floor full of scratches and dents that had seen better days long ago. But it was perfect for our little assistant club: if Dubois suddenly ran into trouble during the evening hours, we'd be close by. Evenings were prime time for the rowdy crowd.

Not that anyone in our block was likely to be a real threat to Dubois, but we didn't want to overload him either.

Bao did show up, at my request, and brought with him a backpack containing something large and round.

"So how are we doing this?" asked Lin Jiao.

I remembered how Piper had trained me.

"When I was learning the Point, a friend threw spikes past me. Once I started sensing her qi a little, I had to start dodging. The threat of a projectile cracking your ribs is a great motivator," I said.

Kowalski shook his head.

"My mentor already gives me enough of that. Let's keep it light — slower, but no pain or injuries."

Lin Jiao nodded. "Besides, I don't have any ranged techniques — only contact ones. If I just swing the staff, you won't feel a thing. But I can bind you with it."

"Like with Marek?" I recalled. I'd once grabbed that stick-turned-shackle — didn't feel a thing.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "But I can only bind two at a time." He turned to Bao, who had been silent the whole time. Bao Feng unzipped his backpack and pulled out a massive mace, the head of which was bigger than a football. It looked like a tightly woven tangle of vines. With a head that large, the handle, barely the length of his forearm, looked way too short.

"I think I can manage," Bao said. "It's not exactly a ranged attack, but I can hit from around seven metres. Just be careful — my aim's not great, and this thing packs a punch."

"I'm going with the wooden shackles!" Kowalski volunteered first. Omar followed suit.

That's how we split. While Lin had his stick slither like a snake over Kowalski and Omar's wrists, Bao positioned Sun Hao and me a metre apart, then took five steps back.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready for what?" I asked, still unsure how this was supposed to work. Was he going to make the handle grow five metres?

Bao swung the mace, whipping it around, and the vine-ball head started to unravel like a whip. The massive head shrank to half its size, but what remained still hit the floor between Sun and me with a booming thud. The mace's woven head bounced off the plastic flooring and sprang upward, while Sun and I leapt to the sides — feeling nothing but a quick jolt of panic.

Now I got his fixation on Wood and Mace. It was flashy — and probably effective in combat, provided he had room to swing. Still, it wasn't exactly fast.

Bao gave the whip another flourish and it reformed into a compact bundle. Sun and I cautiously returned to our positions.

"Again," I said warily.

Bao swung.

Thud!

Sun Hao and I retreated in perfect sync. Neither of us wanted to be caught by a rebounding mace, and it didn't exactly bounce in a predictable pattern.

In the end, we spent just over an hour on everything. None of us sensed anything new, so we agreed to meet again in two days.

Sensing Point Qi had come much easier to me, but Wood was clearly going to make me sweat.

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