The afternoon sun was warm and gentle, filtering through the leaves of an ancient willow that shaded a small, open-air pavilion Kai had constructed for moments of quiet repose. Today, it served its purpose perfectly. Kai, Lulu, and Gin had taken a rare break from their respective duties, the usual sounds of training and construction replaced by the soft whisper of the wind and the cheerful chirping of birds.

  In the center of the pavilion stood a testament to Kai's desire for normalcy: a beautifully crafted Go board, hewn from sandalwood and birch. He had patiently ground smooth, flat stones he'd collected from the riverbed into perfect black and white playing pieces. It was a labor of love, an invitation to a fun casual game.

  Currently, Kai and Lulu were deep in a game.

  Steam rose from two cups of herbal tea sitting beside the board. Neither was a master of the game; they hadn't been raised where Go was considered a vital discipline for teaching grand strategy of their cultivation path. Theirs was a game of more modest, personal tactics. Because of this, they were perfectly, delightfully matched.

  The board was a chaotic tapestry of their back-and-forth struggle, with territories constantly changing hands. A group of stones Lulu had painstakingly surrounded would be rescued by a clever, unexpected play from Kai, only for her to counter-attack on the opposite side of the board moments later. It was less a battle of profound foresight and more a lively, conversational skirmish.

  Gin, with his goud still in hand, sat on a low bench to the side, watching the game with uncharacteristic quietness. He wasn't alone in his fascination. A few of the more curious spirit beasts had gathered as well.

  A family of fox-kits sat in a neat row, their heads tilting in unison as a stone was placed, while a badger-like creature with crystalline fur snuffled softly, its intelligent eyes following the players' hands. Even Snow, the great wolf, lay nearby, his massive head resting on his paws, his ice-blue eyes tracking the movement of the black and white stones with a placid, contemplative air. To these creatures, the game was a mysterious and captivating ritual, a dance of intent between their human companions. The pavilion was a pocket of perfect peace, a snapshot of the simple, communal life they were building together.

  The young disciple burst into the courtyard, his chest heaving, not from exhaustion but from pure, unrestrained excitement. He skidded to a halt before the pavilion, his eyes wide and shining with a fervor that immediately drew the attention of everyone present. The spirit beasts, startled from their quiet observation, perked up their ears.

  "Uncle Kai! Lady Lulu! Mr. Gin!" he exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rushed torrent. He launched into an explanation of what had just happened during his training—the strange, persistent feeling that had always driven him, the sudden, overwhelming vision of a warrior in glorious battle, and the subsequent surge of qi that now flowed through his body with a smooth, powerful clarity he had never before experienced.

  As Lu Bu's explanation concluded, an awkward, heavy silence descended upon the three adult cultivators. They simply stared at him, their expressions a complex mix of sheer disbelief, deep concern, and utter confusion. The click of a Go stone being set down by Lulu was the only sound.

  Kai was the first to break the silence, his voice carefully measured. "Let me get this straight," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the Go board, disrupting the carefully laid stones. "You are telling us that you have found… your Dao?"

  "Yes!" Lu Bu confirmed, his chest swelling with pride. "It came to me while I was running! It was like… a door opening in my mind!"

  Gin, who had been taking a sip of tea, choked and sputtered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. "Don't joke around, kid. There's no way. You have to be at least at the Foundation Establishment realm to even begin to comprehend something like a Dao. Your spirit hasn't been tempered enough. It's impossible."

  "But it is true, Mr. Gin!" Lu Bu insisted, his earnestness undeniable. "I did get a Dao! It's the Dao of The Flying General!" he declared, puffing out his chest as if the title alone should explain everything.

  Gin blinked several times, his brow furrowed. "Flying General?" he repeated, his tone shifting from dismissal to genuine, bewildered curiosity. "What in the blazes kind of Dao is that? Does it let you sprout wings or something? Fly across the battlefield?"

  Lu Bu's confident expression faltered. "It's, um…" he began, struggling. He knew what it was on an instinctual, bone-deep level—the essence of unstoppable momentum, of legendary prowess that would make his name soar above all others. But translating that profound, internal knowing into simple words was extremely difficult. "It's a Dao that makes you… a truly great warrior?" he finally offered, though his voice lacked its earlier conviction.

  A wide, amused grin spread across Gin's face. To him, it sounded exactly like a child inventing a grand story to sound important. He decided to play along, his voice dripping with playful teasing. "Oooh, really? The Dao of the Flying General! Does it make your enemies cower at your great warrior spirit? Do you get a flashy title to go with it?"

  "I'm not joking!" Lu Bu protested, his frustration growing. He could feel the truth of it thrumming in his veins, yet he was utterly unable to articulate it. "I really have it! It's a kind of martial Dao, and it's… it's…" He trailed off, his shoulders slumping in defeat. In that moment of frustrated silence, a flicker of understanding crossed his face. He looked at his uncle Kai, a new respect dawning in his eyes.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "I… I think I finally understand," Lu Bu mumbled, more to himself than to the others. "I understand why you had such a hard time explaining Dao to us, Uncle Kai."

  He was finally gaining a glimpse into the profound truth Kai had tried to impart: that a Dao was not a technique to be recited, but a truth to be lived. It was a path so personal, so intertwined with one's very soul, that explaining it to others was like trying to describe the universe while standing inside it while blind. The complexity and the near-impossibility of putting it into words, a lesson that had once seemed abstract and confusing, had just become vividly, frustratingly real.

  “And… you’re absolutely sure about this Dao?” Lulu asked, her voice unusually hesitant. She leaned forward, her analytical gaze scanning Lu Bu’s face for any hint of deception or childish exaggeration.

  Lu Bu met her eyes and gave a firm, unwavering nod.

  “Well, I definitely don’t think you’re lying,” Kai said, letting out a long, slow breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a familiar gesture of exasperation. “But I have to be honest, I’ve never heard of the ‘Dao of the Flying General.’ It’s… new.” He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to dampen the boy’s spirit but needing to manage the situation. “So, how about this: why don’t you go meditate on it in one of the quiet rooms? Really focus on what it means. Sometimes, sitting in silence helps clarify these things. Once you can articulate it better, we’ll know how to adjust your training to help you walk this path.”

  Lu Bu’s face lit up at the suggestion. His uncle wasn’t dismissing him; he was taking him seriously! “Yes, Uncle Kai!” he said eagerly. With a quick bow, he turned and sprinted toward the meditation chambers, his mind already racing, determined to find the words to describe the epic unfolding within his soul.

  The moment Lu Bu was out of earshot, the composed facade Kai had maintained crumbled. The energy seemed to drain from his body, and he slumped forward over the Go board, his head in his hands. He then turned a weary gaze toward Lulu, who looked equally drained, her usual impeccable posture slightly deflated.

  “Alright, Lulu. Level with me,” Kai said, his voice low. “In all those thousands of books in your head… have you ever heard of a ‘Dao of the Flying General’?”

  Lulu adjusted her glasses, her eyes distant as she scrolled through the vast mental archives. After a moment, she shook her head. “I know of the Dao of the Unyielding Mountain, the Dao of the Flowing River, the Dao of the Silent Blade… I know thousands, from the profoundly common to the esoterically peculiar. The Dao of the Flying General…” She met his gaze, her expression sober. “Is not one I have ever encountered. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist—new Daos are theorized, though rarely realized. It just means it’s absent from every recorded text I have memorized.”

  “Oh, fantastic,” Kai bemoaned, letting his head thud softly on the wooden board. “A never-before-heard-of Dao. Wonderful. We’ll just throw that into the bucket with all the other absurdities that boy produces. Right next to ‘launching himself with boulders’ and ‘punching holes through walls.’”

  “Wait a minute,” Gin interjected, looking back and forth between them in confusion. “Do you two actually believe him? You think that kid actually stumbled onto a Dao? But I thought you said you can only get a Dao at the Foundation Establishment stage, at the earliest!”

  “That is the typical earliest point,” Lulu corrected, her lecturing tone returning. “The spirit and mind must be sufficiently tempered and expanded to comprehend such a profound truth. However, there are rare, historical accounts of prodigies in the Qi Gathering realm having inklings, glimpses of their path.”

  Gin stared at her. “Okay. What about the Body Refinement realm?”

  Lulu hesitated for a second before speaking. “That… has no recorded precedent in any orthodox or heretical text that I know of. It is considered a spiritual and philosophical impossibility. The vessel is not yet formed enough to hold the concept.”

  A strange look crossed Gin’s face, a mixture of dread and dawning acceptance. “You know,” he said, taking a long swig from his gourd. “Honestly, that almost makes it easier. If we just operate under the assumption that he’s telling the truth, it actually explains a lot.”

  “I agree,” Kai said, sitting up straight again, a new light in his eyes. It was the light of a man who, faced with an impossibility, decides to just accept it and go with the flow. “Trying to explain his monstrous strength with normal cultivation theory is impossible. But walking the path of an unknown, hyper-specialized Dao from the Body Refinement stage? However impossible it sounds, it’s the only thing that explains that boy’s… absurd physicality.”

  “So,” Gin said, while gesturing with his gourd toward the path Lu Bu had taken. “What in the thousand hells do you actually think the ‘Dao of the Flying General’ is?”

  “I have no idea,” Kai admitted with a helpless shrug. “But he said something about it making someone a ‘great warrior.’ So, it’s almost certainly a martial Dao, focused on combat and personal prowess.” He frowned, tapping a finger on the Go board. “Then there’s the name itself—‘General.’ That implies command, strategy, leading armies. It sounds less like the path of a lone wanderer and more like something from the Burning Sun Legion. I feel like if anyone in this world would have a record of such a Dao, it would be those warlords.”

  “Too bad we’re about as likely to get a friendly audience with the Burning Sun Legion as we are to teach a fish to fly,” Gin grunted. “So, what’s the new training plan, oh wise masters? If it’s a martial Dao, how do you train for it? Especially one you’ve never heard of?”

  The question hung in the air. Kai and Lulu exchanged a long, weary look. For weeks, their entire focus had been on tempering Lu Bu’s overconfidence, a task that had proven utterly futile. Now, they were faced with an even more monumental challenge: devising a curriculum for a disciple who was apparently pioneering a completely unknown spiritual path from the most foundational level of cultivation. The sheer scale of the unknown was paralyzing.

  “That…” Kai began, his voice trailing off. He reached out and finally made his move on the Go board, placing a white stone with a definitive click. “…is a problem I think we’ll worry about for another day.”

  “I concur,” Lulu said, her own focus returning to the game. She studied the board for a moment before countering his move. “For now, it is still your move.”

  It was a silent agreement, a necessary retreat. They had no answers, no precedents to follow. The mystery of Lu Bu’s Dao was a mountain too high to climb at that moment. So, they did the only sensible thing they could: they temporarily set the impossible problem aside and returned to the simple, manageable challenge of the game in front of them. The grand and terrifying question of how to train a once-in-an-era prodigy could wait until tomorrow.

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