God Of Crafting

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My fist struck the dense, heavy wood of the practice target.

It was a simple block of wood, cut directly from its main trunk, and elevated on a metal pike that was anchored deep in the ground.

A target the surface of which I continued to pummel with my fists at a steady, calculated pace.

Not too fast, not too slow.

Just to establish a proper rhythm and fall into a quasi-meditative state while doing so.

'I can do it.'

Encouraging myself in my thoughts, I ignored the pain and continued with the exercise.

This was my fifth year in the training hall. Meaning, it's been two years since my own classmates moved on and joined various sects and it would only take one more year for the students of every class to rotate out of the institution.

Punch after punch. Strike after strike.

With every hit, my fist would land directly against the small indentations I'd developed on this piece of hard wood over the five years of my training. Parts on the target that my constant strikes and the lube of my blood polished to the point they could serve as a mirror.

"Huff, huff, huff."

For every strike I took a quick, intense breath, refilling the stock of fresh oxygen in my lungs, always keeping a steady amount of it for my heart to pump energy into my arms.

But it was all for nothing.

No matter how hard and long and desperately I tried…

My fist simply refused to move faster, strike harder, pierce deeper.

The glassing of the wood polished by my own blood was the greatest proof of that, of the absolute lack of results.

I've kept going… But in all honesty, I grew sick and tired of it all.

'There has to be some reasonable limit. A stage at which I will accept the facts and move on.'

I gritted my teeth and took a slightly deeper breath… only for this lapse of concentration to quickly snowball into a missed beat, faulty rhythm of the next hook, and a complete collapse of my stance a moment later.

"Shit!"

A silent curse escaped my lips as I leaned down and rested my hands against my knees, the bloodied, bruised knuckles of my hands the living proof of how hard and for how long I've tried.

Suddenly, a coat of something warm and soft fell down upon my weary, breath-shaken shoulders, providing a refreshing, cool compress for my pained flesh.

"Working hard as always," Sam called out with his usual, cheerful attitude as he fixed the cold towel on my back. He then glanced over the blood-smeared wood of the practice target. "I would say for you to keep it up…"

'Hmm?'

I lowered my back under the soothing weight of the cool towel while still raising my eyes to the man's face.

'This isn't like the usual.'

With a hint of worry flashing in my heart, I prickled my ears and focused on his words.

"But right now, you should report to the master's office," Sam added, his easy-going smile wavering for a fleeting second.

"Haaah…" I sighed before grabbing the towel and wiping my face with it. "Sure thing, but do you maybe know why…"

This time, I didn't hide my gaze as I looked up.

Sam only bounced his shoulders and shook his head.

"No idea man," he lied with a troubled look on his face….

A look that only made me sigh again.

'It was inevitable anyway, huh?'

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening.

A lone 5th-year student, still failing to produce any results. And now we were only a month off the regionals marking the change of the seasons.

Even if technology and scientific approach allowed the most trainees to become cultivators within just three years of practice… I've now reached the limit that began all the way in ancient times, back when there were still sects, immortals, and great heroes roaming the world and setting up all the rules.

"Sure thing, and…" I looked properly up, facing the gym's supervisor directly.

For the last five years, he provided me with all the help, encouragement, and instructions I could ever ask for. What he didn't provide me with, though, was an elixir that would heal whatever made my attempts at cultivating so damn unsuccessful!

"Thanks for…"

The words got stuck in my throat for a short moment.

"Thanks for the info."

Even though I knew what was coming… I couldn't bring myself to say it properly, 'Thanks for everything.'

I nodded my head and moved away, likely for the last time, from my target, the loyal partner that stuck with me for the last five years. Then, a short walk later, I arrived at the institution master's office before giving the doors a solid, confident knock.

"Come on in."

A deep breath later, I pushed the doors open and walked inside.

The straw matting on the floor was far too comfortable than it had any right to be for my naked feet. Likely, it came from some sort of a spiritual herb, an item inaccessible for mere mortals like me.

A bit deeper in the room, a middle-aged man sat cross-legged while watching some sort of meditation stream on the wall-sized display.

Instead of intruding any further, I patiently waited at the doorstep while Master continued his inner training.

"I believe it's quite obvious why I've called for you," my master said as he finally turned his head away from the feed of some recently popular group of meditation streamers. "But before we get there, there are a few words I want you to hear first."

Despite the icon in the corner of the screen revealing that it was actually a paid stream, a commodity that went for quite a pretty penny on the web due to the limited number of access tokens for the live, the master turned away from the screen and locked his gaze on me.

I gulped my saliva down, not really sure what to expect.

Or rather… Petrified by my lack of understanding of what would happen next?

I was going to get kicked out and forcefully dropped out of the institution. It was something that absolutely had to happen unless I wanted to be shameless enough to go and try and singlehandedly tank the institution rating that all of my fellow trainees worked so hard to improve.

In fact, I've already long overstayed my welcome, with only my desperation and perverse sense of preservation keeping me going for the last two years.

But how would this kind, uncle-like man going to make it happen?

I just… couldn't imagine having him look at me all angry and shaming me while demanding me to leave!

"When you first came to this institution, you belonged to the group of cadets I usually have high hopes for," Master smiled as he reminisced about the past. "You had this passion… This shine in your eyes that quickly developed into a fire as you started to train."

The constitution master closed his mouth and lowered his gaze before taking a deep, long breath.

"For five years, I've watched you diligently train. Heck, on the days you've skipped training, I didn't even bother calling your home because I knew it really had to be something important!"

A corner of my lips twitched as if attempting to for a smile.

I knew full well that most in the society considered the basic cultivation training, a part of the obligatory regime of courses all citizens had to go through before certain stages of their life, considered this practice to be a bother, an annoying chore. As such, it came as no surprise that my attitude… was something that would make the old man so expressive.

"Nevertheless, despite five years of constant effort, the facts are what they are."

The master raised his gaze and looked me directly in the face.

"I won't shit you by claiming it has nothing to do with the institutional ratings that are updating in a month, but…" This man… the wise overseer of my training and someone who actively tried to figure out the root cause behind my inability to do what most of the others could…

He lowered his eyes, as if in apology.

"But I really think it's time for you to call it quits and look for something else to put that lovely, admirable devotion of yours."

Only by the end of his verdict did Master raise his eyes to meet my face again.

I took a shallow breath, and…

"I understand."

What else was I to say?

Cry out in protest? Fall to my knees and beg? Disregard all the legitimate concerns of this hard-working uncle to do right not only by me… but also by all the other trainees at the institution, current and future?

No.

I was old enough to learn the simple truth.

Some dreams simply weren't meant to come true. And the only result of resisting this reality would be increasing the hurt once the brutal adult life would force me to do so anyway.

"I know this isn't much, but I've prepared a small, parting gift for you," the master added, taking me by a bit of a surprise.

What he pulled out, though, could be called anything but small.

It was a huge box… No, a crate the size of the ones one could see in movies. And once the man opened it up…

'Yeah, the inside doesn't fit his words either,' I thought when my eyes laid upon a collection of all sorts of different kinds of tools and two stacks of books.

"When I said that I think you need to look for something else, I meant it," the master added as he held the lid of the crate up for me to see its content. "I've collected basic manuals for a plethora of different activities, from making music through writing, crafting, and at geopolitics ending."

Soon, the master's explanation started to make sense.

"In all those years, I've noticed that the reason why you can't cultivate is because you can't achieve the Qi gathering state of mind. In other words, you fail to separate your ego from your actions, to properly meditate."

My eyebrows would rise… if this weren't old news for me.

But this time, rather than all the other times everyone at the institution told me the same, master clearly wasn't done yet.

The tools inside the box were basic and generally cheap… but just good enough for me to give all sorts of disciplines a serious try!

In all honesty, I would lie if I were to claim this prospect didn't excite me a bit.

For years I've denied myself the respite of finding a hobby, putting all my thoughts and efforts into shattering the barrier that held me back, turning me into pretty much an outcast in the modern, spiritual society. Not a banite unable to partake in adult life… But an outcast nonetheless.

But now that I was dropping out… Why not?

"I never said this, but if you manage to reach the state of meditation through any of those activities…" Master hesitated for a second, before steeling the look on his face as he turned his deep glare directly to my eyes. "If you do just that, you will have two options.

You can go back and I will teach you personally and privately for up to half a year to see if you can actually improve after overcoming this hurdle, but…"

The look on the master's face mellowed down.

"I honestly believe that once you hopefully find something worth your effort and determination, it will be better for you to keep doing it instead," Master said as his eyes reached the rare level of warmth on this usually stoic man's face. "Believe me, you won't give two shits about cultivation and whatnot if you get to do something that you really love!"