Push-up

A purple figure descended upon the battlefield, the ground shook violently beneath the feet of the soldiers. The very air crackled with anticipation and fear, and both sides of the battlefield paused in confusion and terror.

Suddenly, a monstrous black tidal wave rose behind the purple figure, towering over the armies on either side. Screams of horror filled the air as the wave crashed down upon the soldiers, mercilessly crushing them in its wake. Blood mixed with dirt as the wave consumed everything in its path, turning the ground from black to a sickening shade of crimson red.

Amidst the chaos, a blinding light descended from above, illuminating the battlefield with a brilliant radiance. Its aura pulsates with otherworldly power. The air crackled with energy.

The bright figure raised its arms, and the light intensified, enveloping the entire battlefield in a searing, blinding glow.

The sunlight penetrates Qing's eyelids. It had all been a dream.

The sweet and savory aroma of freshly boiled potatoes wafted through the air, filling the quaint kitchen with a sense of warmth and comfort. On the table stood a jar of berry jam they had made together a week ago.

"Just in time for breakfast,"

The pot started to release steam. Qing's mother lifts the lid revealing his breakfast…

"Potato porridge again?"

He grew sick of the porridge and wanted something else to eat for breakfast. His mouth watered. He wanted to eat the deer he hunted yesterday. Regardless, Qing grabbed the bowl his mother handed to him and began eating his breakfast.

"How's your hand?"

His hand looked perfectly fine there wasn't anything wrong with it. Qing flexed his finger around. They were fine.

"They're okay,"

"Can we eat meat tonight?"

Qing's mother pinked his cheek.

"Sure, my little rice pot.

"Relax today,"

The sun was shining unusually bright today, much brighter than the time he usually woke up. As he opened his eyes, he noticed his greatsword reflecting a blinding white light right at his face, almost as if it was calling out to him, tempting him to lift it.

"Relax?"

Qing found himself pinned to the ground, his back tensed up to lessen the impact. The freezing snow around him sent chills down his face.

"Anya?"

A figure appeared on top of Qing. It wasn't Anya.

"Who are you?"

The figure remained silent for a moment, their face obscured. Qing tried to push them off of him, but their grip was surprisingly strong.

"Answer me!" Qing demanded, his heart racing.

The figure finally spoke, "It's me, The Hermit."

Qing's confusion turned to shock. He'd agreed to be his student yesterday and the old man was already bothering him today.

The Hermit got off of Qing, standing up and offering him a hand. "I apologize for the rough start. I simply wanted to test your reflexes."

Qing took his hand, pulling himself up. "Test my reflexes?"

The Hermit nodded, his eyes scanning Qing. "You are skilled, but you lack discipline and control. I am here to teach you."

Qing rubbed his chin, still in shock. He had always been a bit reckless, but he never thought it was that bad. The hermit looked to be in his fifties, with graying hair and a stern expression. He was dressed in simple robes and carried a staff.

The Hermit gestured for Qing to follow him into the snow-covered mountains.

"We will start with breathing techniques before I teach you how to use weapons,"

As they walked, The Hermit instructed Qing to breathe in slowly through his nose, pause and hold, and release through his mouth. Qing followed his instructions, feeling the tension in his body release with each breath.

Once they arrived at a clear, The Hermit pointed at a Dojo near the horizon.

"When you are worthy. I will bring you there, but today we shall train here."

The Hermit began teaching Qing the basics of martial arts.

"Give 20 more push-ups,"

"Streng…th..'" Qing subconsciously muttered trying to envision the magic circle.

The Hermit tapped the back of Qing's head with the end of his staff, warning him not to exhaust his mana recklessly. Despite the lightness of the tap, Qing's hand gave up, and he collapsed to the ground, feeling the strain.

"I can't do this anymore,"

"Rest when you need,"

The Hermit emphasized the importance of balance, control, and focus. He didn't expect Qing to just blindly do push-ups at his request.

"Lower your butt,"

"Go all the way down,"

Qing struggled. The more he did the more flaws in his push-ups appeared. It didn't help that after he finished a set The Hermit would request more push-ups out of him.

"You can rest in between sets you know," The hermit noted to Qing

The Hermit wanted Qing to maintain the correct posture.

After a few hours of training, Qing was exhausted but exhilarated. He felt more focused and centered than he had in a long time.

As the sun began to set, The Hermit decided to end the training for the day. Qing was grateful for the break, his muscles aching from the exertion.

Qing was surprised when The Hermit crouched down, offering his back for Qing to ride on. Qing hesitated for a moment, but then climbed on, wrapping his arms around The Hermit's neck.

The hermit jumped and suddenly appeared over the village.

"This is why we condition our bodies,"

They arrived at Qing's home, his mother is preparing dinner. The smell of roasted fish filled the air, and Qing's stomach rumbled with anticipation.

She nervously served the fish to Qing uncertain of how it turned out.

The fish had a crisp outer with a sweet and lemony interior complemented with a light dash of pepper

Qing sat down to eat, savoring every bite of the succulent meat.

She was glad that her cooking had worked out, and her son enjoyed it.

The next day The Hermit continued Qing's training by introducing the importance of warming up before anything.

"Empty your mind,"

The Hermit moves his hands like waves around him.

"Breath in…"

Both of them raise their hands breathing in the air around them.

"Breath out.."

"Now give me 30 sit-ups"

Qing gets down and proceeds to do his sit-ups. On the mountain, the air was thinner than the air near his home. Each rep getting hard the last. Qing's arms were still sore from the push-ups from yesterday, but he couldn't give up.

Something inside of him burned inside of him. Qing didn't care about the pain anymore.

"Get up!"

"Feet shoulder-width apart!"

"This is horse stance,"

The Hermit emphasized the importance of the stance in the form of Qing.

"Now squat,"

Footwork was the basis of all fighting styles. In order, to have good footwork Qing's legs would also need to be strong before conditioning them. The Hermit continued instructing Qing on basic leg exercises from the sissy squat, leg raises, and calve raises. Qing had to be carried home by The Hermit again that night.