Morning came before the city fully woke.
On the outer edge of Notting City, the small wooden house was already bright with pale sunlight. The room was still and simple, and on the corner
desk lay a diary with neat pages waiting to be filled.
Mo Chen opened his eyes early, as he had done the day before, and the day before that. There was no wasted movement in him. No sighing, no
laziness, no complaint.
He sat up, washed his face with cold water, and stepped outside.
The air was cool.
The ground was firm.
It was the right kind of morning for training.
Start small jogging of the mountain for continuous 1 hours for warm up after that
He stood in the small open space beside the house, where the earth was flat enough for practice. Then he opened his diary and wrote only a few lines
before beginning.
Day 8. Morning session begins.
Goal: keep breathing stable. Keep the body calm. Keep the mind clear.
No emotion. No distraction. Repeat until it becomes natural.
He closed the diary and placed it safely to the side.
Then the training began.
First came seated breathing.
He sat straight on the ground, spine aligned, shoulders relaxed, hands resting lightly on his knees. His breathing followed a steady rhythm.
Inhale for four counts.
Hold for two.
Exhale for six.
Again.
And again.At first, it felt unnatural. His chest rose too fast, then too shallow. His breath broke twice in the first few minutes. But he did not stop. He
simply returned to the same rhythm again and again until his body slowly adjusted.
The purpose was not power.
The purpose was control.
The next stage was standing stability.
Mo Chen rose and took the basic sword stance his father had once taught him. The wooden practice sword rested in both hands. His feet stayed
apart. His knees bent slightly. His center of gravity lowered.
Breathing continued.
Slow inhale.
Brief hold.
Long exhale.
The body began to work harder once it was standing, and that was exactly the point. It was easy to breathe correctly while still. It was harder when the
muscles tightened and balance had to be maintained
His arms tensed.
His shoulders stiffened.His breathing nearly broke once more.
He corrected it.
Again.
He held the stance until the body stopped resisting as much.
Then came movement synchronization.
He stepped forward and inhaled.
He struck and exhaled.
Step. Inhale.
Strike. Exhale.
The motion was simple, but not easy. His footwork lagged behind his breath at first. Then his breath moved too early. The two could not yet become
one.
He reset and repeated.
The same motion.
The same discipline.
After several rounds, the connection began to form. Weak, but real.
Finally, he performed the repetition drill.
Twenty basic strikes.
Then thirty.
A clean slash.
A return to guard.
Another slash.
Another return.
If the rhythm broke, he restarted from the beginning without argument.
By the time the sun had risen higher, sweat covered his forehead, and his breathing was no longer perfectly smooth. But the session had done its
work. His body felt awake. His mind felt quieter.
He stood still for a moment with the wooden sword lowered at his side.
Not strong.
Not gifted.
But steady.
That was enough for the morning.