Days blended in the dark cave, where silence enveloped me, broken only by the occasional beating of the bck butterfly's wings. Time was now a distant concept—faint memories of the outside world, my past, dwindled with each passing second. What remained was a single impulse: to live. Living, however, now demanded more than food or hiding. It demanded strength, something I could barely conceive but knew was necessary.

  I had discovered already that the body alone could not get me through; my soul, my spirit, had to awaken as well. I needed more than the sword in my hand. I needed to cultivate, to build the energy inside of me and learn to control it.

  The sword, the one I had taken from the Mo Sect cultivator, was the start. The sword itself held a power—an energy that was foreign to me. And yet there was something within me, something I could not quite get at, just as there was something strange about the butterfly. The bck butterfly was familiar in the darkness of the cave, flitting around, its delicate wings shimmering with an ethereal glow. It was as though it waited for something—waited for me.

  Cross-legged, I stared at the sword, its bde weakly pale blue in the darkness. I could feel its hum, the energy trapped inside, and it called to me. The cultivation technique of the Mo Sect's manual, the one I had been able to decipher, talked about guiding energy and packing it into the sword. But how was I supposed to begin? How was I supposed to learn to do what seemed so far beyond me?

  I focused on the book's pages. Its characters were still somewhat alien to me, although, having practiced, I knew them a bit better each time I read. The symbols were instructions, clues to mastering one's inner energy, and one's spiritual development. I was learning already to draw on that energy from my body, to call it up and move it. It was not easy, and it was not fast, but it was progress.

  I set the book down slowly beside me and closed my eyes. The cave around me was cold, the air thick with the scent of death, but the bck butterfly settled on my shoulder, its wings beating against my skin like a gentle reminder. It was present with me, waiting as I concentrated.

  The process detailed in the book was complex—more than a mere energy transfer. It required me to connect with the world around me and to draw energy from both the physical and spiritual realms. I had never understood cultivation before, but now, in this silent cave, I would have to learn or die trying.

  I took a deep breath, centering myself. The hunger tore at me, insisting that I halt and feed. But I pushed it away. I could not allow it to order me around. I had to focus, had to clear my mind, and reach for something beyond the sphere of my physical needs.

  I began by feeling the energy within me. It was faint, a light in the distance. It was there all the time, but now I had to bring it close. It was stretching towards a part of me that had slept, a part of me that had been dormant beneath the pain, the hunger, and the fear.

  Slowly, I began to feel the stirrings of it, a heartbeat in my chest, a warmth that spread through my arms and legs. The butterfly, now perched on the earth beside me, seemed to radiate a soft glow, its wings glimmering with an ethereal light. I felt more attuned to it as I focused on the energy within myself, summoning it, pulling it to my hands.

  Nothing at first. A flicker of warmth in my palms. Yet the more I concentrated, the more I could feel it expanding—thin, tentative threads of power connecting my mind to the sword, to the world. I don't know how long I meditated, how long I just sat there in silence, but I felt something shift. The sword in my hands began to grow heavier, but not in the same manner as before. It was not the weight I was feeling. It was power, unrefined and uncontrolled.

  Slowly, in slow motion, I lifted the sword. My hands trembled, not with fear, but with the might of the power that I was beginning to dominate. The sword seemed to vibrate in my hand, its pale-blue bde quivering as if a star had been trapped in the night's darkness.

  I began to practice the stances covered in the book, slow and deliberate. Each movement was an attempt to contain the energy that I could feel stirring within me. It was cautious at first, but with each swing, I could sense a more definite connection to the sword, a greater command of the power inside it.

  And then, something abrupt happened.

  As I completed a strike, something inside me snapped. The energy in the sword overpowered my control, and a fsh of light exploded from the bde, illuminating the whole cave. I recoiled in shock, the sword falling from my hand. I had not expected such a release of power, such ferocity from something so graceful.

  I fell to my knees, winded. My body was exhausted, and the energy in me was expended by the outburst. And yet there was more—a far-off buzz of etion. An appetite that I never knew I had. I had connected with something, something deeper than I'd hoped. I had reached my spirit and the energy that encircled me. I was expanding, piece by piece.

  I shut my eyes, gasping. The sword still y on the ground beside me, the light of the bde dimming as the energy dispersed. Yet the feeling lingered. I wasn't merely surviving anymore. I was becoming something more. Something strong.

  I had a ways to go, I knew that. But the butterfly, beside me, glowed brighter, as if in approval of my changing. It had remained with me through the worst of it, through despair and hunger. Now, here it was, watching me change.

  For the first time since the massacre, I felt a sense of purpose. I was evolving, unfolding, tapping into the power that I had no right to possess. It wasn't merely the sword, though. It wasn't merely the physical strength. It was the spirit—the connection to the world around me, to the unseen energies that controlled all things. That was what I was beginning to understand.

  I reached for the sword again, my hands steady now. It was lighter, more agile, as though it were now an extension of my own volition. I closed my eyes and focused, feeling the energy again, drawing it from the center of my being and compelling it into the bde.

  As I did, the bck butterfly flitted close, its wings brushing against my skin as if guiding me. It was not an animal. It was a manifestation of something more. Something from deep inside of me.

  And then, I knew.

  This was the beginning of my cultivation. This was the first step in controlling my spirit.

  I wasn't just a survivor anymore. I was a cultivator, and this energy, this strange, foreign power, would be my way out.