## Chapter Seventeen: The Unsteady Hand
The Outer Court thrummed with a different kind of energy in the days following Yan Zhen's raw, triumphant victory over Fan Li. The combat arena lay quiet, but the air buzzed with anticipation for the semi-finals. Before the next brutal clashes, however, a traditional "Spirit Manifestation Ceremony" was announced. This was a revered occasion, a public display of foundational techniques and cultivation insights, designed to showcase the sect's rising talent before Elders, respected Inner Disciples, and the wider student body. It was a chance for promising Outer Disciples to earn recognition beyond brute strength.
Qing Yu would be there, her keen analytical mind assessing every move. Xiao Li, too, would be present, her empathetic gaze missing little. For Lin Feng, this was an opportunity far more subtle, and far more potent, than a mere tournament match.
He had learned that Elder Gao, a highly respected figure known for his meticulous understanding of qi theory, would be presiding, often calling upon disciples to demonstrate precise qi control or to answer nuanced questions about advanced qi principles. Lin Feng knew Yan Zhen's power was like a surging river—immense, but lacking the delicate control of a finely tuned stream. The siphoned qi, while granting breakthroughs, had subtly exacerbated this, leaving Yan Zhen's internal energies a little more volatile, his temper a hair-trigger beneath his usual good humor.
Lin Feng approached Yan Zhen, finding him meditating vigorously, still reveling in his Body Tempering, Stage 6 prowess. "Zhen," he began, his voice laced with thoughtful concern, "the Spirit Manifestation Ceremony is coming up. Elder Gao often focuses on qi control and theoretical knowledge. I've been struggling with this 'Balanced Qi Flow' technique – it's crucial for Inner Disciple cultivation, apparently, requiring incredible finesse. My qi just feels too... coarse. Perhaps you, with your incredible raw power, could grasp its essence? I've been studying old scrolls, but it's deceptively complex." He feigned mild frustration, making the technique seem genuinely challenging even for him, hoping Yan Zhen's competitive spirit would rise to the bait.
Yan Zhen, always eager to prove himself, particularly when his friend expressed difficulty, grinned. "Qi control? Bah! It's all about pushing through! But if you're having trouble, I'll take a look. Maybe my brute force can show you how to *make* qi flow where you want it!" He immediately launched into practice, his powerful qi flaring, but his attempts at the delicate 'Balanced Qi Flow' were visibly clumsy, his qi often surging where it should merely trickle.
In the hours leading up to the ceremony, Lin Feng subtly nudged Yan Zhen. A casual comment about the "pressure" of public demonstration, a feigned misplacement of Yan Zhen's favorite training weights that led to a brief, frantic search, a subtle reminder of Fan Li's family ties to Elder Gao. Each tiny provocation grated on Yan Zhen's already heightened nerves, ensuring his qi remained on edge.
The ceremony hall was grand, filled with the scent of incense and the hushed murmurs of hundreds of Outer Disciples. Front rows were occupied by Elder Gao, several other sect Elders, and a contingent of the most promising Inner Disciples, including Qing Yu, elegant and observant, and Xiao Li, her gentle presence radiating calm.
Elder Gao, a wizened man with piercing eyes, spoke of cultivation's true essence – not just power, but mastery. He then called upon Yan Zhen. "Disciple Yan Zhen. Your recent performance in the tournament has been... notable. Demonstrate for us the 'Balanced Qi Flow' technique."
Yan Zhen stepped forward, his heart pounding, a mixture of pride and the subtle, lingering agitation from his siphoned qi churning within him. He took a deep breath, channeled his powerful Body Tempering, Stage 6 qi, and began.
Initially, his sheer spiritual energy seemed to overwhelm the technique's subtlety. He could force the qi to move, but as he tried to perform the delicate, interwoven currents of the 'Balanced Qi Flow', his control faltered. His brow furrowed in concentration, but the qi in his meridians, accustomed to explosive power, refused to be reined in with such precision. A visible tremor ran through his hands. His qi rippled around him, a raw, untamed force that struggled to conform. He pushed harder, his face flushing with effort and growing frustration. A small crack spiderwebbed across a nearby decorative stone, a silent testament to his uncontrolled force. He gritted his teeth, a low growl escaping him, his frustration visibly escalating. He looked like a powerful, restless beast, unable to tame its own strength.
The Elders exchanged subtle glances, some with faint frowns, others with knowing, almost pitying expressions.
From the crowd, Lin Feng watched, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His inner eye saw the chaotic flow of Yan Zhen's qi, the anger building, the subtle imperfections that stemmed from the siphoned vein. It was perfect.
Lin Feng then stepped forward, his expression one of polite concern. "Elder Gao," he began, his voice calm and respectful, a stark contrast to Yan Zhen's visible struggle. "Yan Zhen has been truly dedicating himself to the 'Fist of the Unyielding Mountain' technique. It demands immense raw qi and a singular focus on destructive power. Perhaps his energy is still settling from such profound breakthroughs, making delicate qi threading temporarily challenging." He subtly redirected the narrative from Yan Zhen's lack of finesse to his *overwhelming* power and dedication, making it sound like a temporary side effect of his prowess.
Then, with Elder Gao's nod, Lin Feng continued, his gaze respectful. "If I may, Elder? Perhaps demonstrating the *principle* behind the 'Balanced Qi Flow' would be more illustrative. It truly is about patience and understanding." He took a stance beside Yan Zhen, effortlessly channeling his own hidden **Spirit Condensation, Stage 2** qi. His movements were fluid, graceful, his qi flowing like water, perfectly controlled, forming intricate, shimmering patterns in the air that seemed to whisper with silent mastery. He demonstrated the 'Balanced Qi Flow' with an effortless precision that made Yan Zhen's earlier struggle seem clumsy and unrefined. There was no visible strain, no hint of agitation. He was power, tempered by absolute control.
The Elders watched, their expressions shifting to impressed nods. Lin Feng was not just powerful; he was *masterful*. He showed not just knowledge, but inherent aptitude.
Yan Zhen, mortified by his own display, felt a burning shame. He watched Lin Feng, his friend, effortlessly perform the technique that had defied him. He felt a surge of gratitude for Lin Feng's quick thinking, for saving him from utter humiliation, but also a sharp pang of inadequacy. Lin Feng wasn't just smart; he was *smooth*.
In the audience, Qing Yu's eyes, which had held a faint disappointment during Yan Zhen's struggle, now widened slightly as she watched Lin Feng. His composure, his effortless control, his intelligent explanation – it resonated deeply with her discerning mind. The "wild stallion" Yan Zhen was indeed powerful, but Lin Feng was the calm, steady hand that seemed to understand the reins. Xiao Li, too, watched Lin Feng with newfound admiration, her earlier concern for Yan Zhen's qi agitation now subtly juxtaposed with Lin Feng's serene display of mastery. His compassion and composure seemed to extend to his very cultivation.
After the ceremony, as Lin Feng subtly guided a chastened Yan Zhen away, Yan Zhen grumbled, "I don't know why that stupid technique was so hard! My qi just wouldn't listen!"
Lin Feng patted his shoulder, a consoling smile on his face. "It's alright, Zhen. Your strength is in your raw power, your explosive force. Not everyone is meant for delicate qi threading. That's why we make a good team, right? You provide the power, and I can... help with the finesse." He subtly reinforced Yan Zhen's reliance on him for "refinement" and "guidance," cementing their symbiotic relationship.
As they walked, Lin Feng's internal monologue hummed with satisfaction. The threads were weaving perfectly. Yan Zhen had been embarrassed, his lack of control highlighted, and in front of the very heroines he was meant to charm. And in doing so, Lin Feng had shone even brighter, a beacon of calm mastery and intelligence. The semi-finals were next, a stage for further glory, but Lin Feng had already landed a significant, silent blow to Yan Zhen's destined image. The Inner Sect was practically within reach.
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