Gu marked a ring on the empty courtyard stones before dawn. He used chalk to set a boundary wide enough for a short burst of force, leaving the storage wall and the laundry lines outside it. Yan checked the edge with his shoe and cleared a loose pebble from the center.
“The life cost again,” Gu said. “One circulation burns a month of lifespan and leaves an ordinary practitioner too weak to stand.”
Yan looked at the red-wrapped copy in his notebook. “The complete manual says one month per circulation?”
“Yes. The fragment and the recovered reference agree.” Gu set the pulse strip, water cup, and chalk beside the courtyard wall. “If the result changes for you, we will still record what the text says. We won’t cross the warning out.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good. We need the ordinary cost on the page, because the method won’t behave the same way in every body.”
“It is a poor bargain for someone who wants a long life,” Yan said. “The method trades future years for a brief surge.”
“Do you want to continue?”
“Yes. The System has changed intrinsic costs before. I want to learn whether it changes this one too.”
Gu did not tell him the risk was small. “I don’t endorse that risk. I’ll observe the complete method, and I’ll stop the test if you lose the route or the boundary is breached.”
Yan checked his qi reserve. He had enough to gather for one low-output circulation, not enough to repeat without recovering. He could feel the small pool settle in his dantian, separate from the heat and strength already in his body. “I’m ready for one careful trial.”
“What makes you stop?” Gu asked.
“If the instructions are incomplete, if I lose the count, or if an outside injury interrupts me.”
“Anything else?”
“If the pressure goes somewhere the method doesn’t describe.”
Gu nodded. “Good. I’ll call the breath count. You choose whether to release.”
They stood on opposite sides of the chalk ring. Gu placed the pulse strip where he could reach it without stepping inside the marked area. The water cup stayed beyond the ring. Yan walked the center once, checking for loose stones or damp patches that might shift under his feet. The air was cool and still; no draft could carry the force toward the storage wall.
A pair of laundry workers arrived with baskets and stopped at the courtyard entrance. One looked from the ring to Gu’s straight posture.
“Are you summoning something?” she asked.
“Only a very expensive breakfast,” Yan said.
Gu gave him a look. “We’re testing a complete technique.”
The workers moved their baskets to the far side of the court. “We’ll use the back line. Let us know if we need to run.”
“You won’t,” Gu said. “Stay beyond the chalk.”
Yan performed the opening motions once without qi. He checked the chest turn against the source copy and traced the final release. Gu watched his shoulders and corrected the angle of his left wrist. Yan repeated the move slowly, then stood still until the path felt aligned.
Gu asked him to turn sideways and perform the chest motion from that angle. Yan’s right shoulder rose too early, making the movement appear to travel directly from chest to arm. Gu tapped his upper back to show where the turn should begin.
“Let the shoulder follow the breath,” Gu said. “If it leads, you send the force toward the ribs.”
Yan tried again, this time keeping his shoulder low until the chest turn completed. The movement felt smaller but more precise. He watched his sleeve for a sign of a jerk and saw none.
“Does that change the charge?”
“No. It changes the route.” Gu had him repeat the motion without qi once more. “The count and the strength of the charge are separate. Don’t add more energy to correct a bad movement.”
Yan relaxed his arm before starting again. The corrected path reached his hand without pulling his chest tight. “That feels more controlled.”
“Then keep that version. The manual’s complete, but your body still has to perform it accurately.”
“Now gather only what you measured,” Gu said.
Yan drew qi from his dantian. It collected at his fingertips in a steady glow, then returned toward his center as he relaxed. He repeated the gather without activating the art. The reserve was enough for one measured use. He would not layer another technique on top of it.
“Does the amount feel the same as the pill test?” Gu asked.
“Different. This is a deliberate route, not a dose settling into the usual circulation.”
“And if you have to stop?”
“I let the breath settle and release the qi. I don’t force the next turn.”
“Show me the boundary.”
Yan walked the inner edge of the ring and looked toward the courtyard doors. No one stood inside the path. The laundry workers had moved farther away, and the storage wall was beyond the chalk. A basket rested near the far side, but it was outside the area where the burst would travel.
The workers watched from behind their table. One asked, “Will the qi really turn red?”
“It should,” Yan said. “That is what the text says.”
“Will your life shorten?”
“It says it does for ordinary practitioners.” Yan looked at Gu. “I don’t know what will happen to me. That’s why Gu is watching.”
Gu kept his voice calm. “The test is one low-output circulation. We will not add another method or increase the charge.”
Yan returned to the center of the ring. He took one slow breath and placed his feet where the chalk marks crossed. His attention stayed on the method and the space around him. The art was complete, the target area empty, and the choice to begin remained his.
Gu held up one finger. “If the opening is right, I’ll call the next count. If you stop, I won’t pull you back into it.”
“I understand.”
“And after the first circulation, we pause until I check your pulse. We do not decide on a second while you’re still in the route.”
Yan looked at the boundary, then at his hands. He had enough qi for the first measured activation and no need to prove anything with a larger charge. “Agreed.”
“Opening first,” Gu said. “No qi.”
Yan repeated the full opening once more. He followed the chest turn and traced the final breath without gathering energy. Gu checked the movement and confirmed the route.
“Correct.”
Yan let his hands fall and checked his reserve again. The small pool of qi remained steady. “I can gather enough for one careful circulation.”
“Are you still choosing it?”
“Yes.”
The laundry workers lowered their voices and returned to folding. The courtyard had space to hold the test, and no one had to approach the boundary. Yan drew one breath, aware of the cost written in the warning and the exact location of each turn. He did not rush the opening. He waited for Gu’s count.