Hearing the Thunder in the Silence

Afternoon

In the temporary kyudo practice range set up at the hospital.

Dozens of targets were arranged in two categories—near and far—their black-and-white surfaces gleaming under the sunlight.

Su Cheng took a deep breath, picked up an arrow from the rack, and weighed it in his hand before nodding in satisfaction.

Competition bows differed from those used for hobbies or practical purposes, with strict regulations on both bow and arrow specifications. Thus, any training facility focused on competitions provided equipment of standardized dimensions.

Setting the arrow aside, he picked up the bow.

The moment his fingers touched the bow, the string emitted a low hum, as if someone had plucked it—a response so intimate and spirited that even the attendant on duty turned his head, eyes widening in surprise.

Su Cheng slipped back into that elusive, almost mystical state.

With each breath, the bow drew like a full moon, the arrow flew like a shooting star.

A sharp "whoosh" cut through the air as the arrow embedded itself deep into the bullseye.

Snapping out of it, he realized he had fired without conscious thought.

"Did my strength suddenly increase? I can’t control the force..."

Su Cheng immediately recognized the issue, but instead of frustration, he sought that state again. Once more, his body moved on its own, releasing another arrow.

The result?

The arrow struck true—dead center, without the slightest deviation.

Five shots in a row, not a single miss.

Five bullseyes, each arrow buried deep in the target.

He frowned, muttering in irritation, "Damn it, what’s going on? Before, I lacked strength—now I can’t control it!"

Once he entered that state, his power became uncontrollable.

Finally, he abandoned the mystical focus and simply nocked an arrow, aimed, and let it fly.

Bullseye. Again.

So, without entering that state, he could still control his strength—and his accuracy remained just as high.

This meant his innate skill wasn’t tied to that strange trance.

Su Cheng grew even more excited and began showing off.

He shot sideways, knelt to draw, even caught arrows mid-air—giving each flashy pose an edgy, over-the-top name.

"Have you changed your mind about competing in archery?"

Before he could revel in his triumph, a cool voice cut through his excitement. Turning, he saw four girls approaching, led by Ji Qingyi, followed by a group of kyudo club members.

"I was just practicing—look, I hit the bullseye," Su Cheng instinctively defended himself, only to be met with an even more disdainful tone.

"I’m referring to your form and attitude," Ji Qingyi said coldly, glaring at him. "Was that kyudo practice just now, or a circus act?"

"I... I finally had the strength to shoot more, so I got carried away," Su Cheng replied, torn between anger at being criticized for harmless fun and embarrassment at being caught in such an undignified display.

Li Guanqi averted her gaze, while Gu Ruoxue glanced at the targets and remarked softly, "It seems you’ve never seriously studied kyudo. Competitions aren’t just about accuracy. A competitor’s posture, demeanor, and discipline are all judged. Flaunting like that is disrespectful to the art—you’d lose points for it."

"Exactly," Ji Qingyi added. "Kyudo is a discipline for cultivating the mind and spirit. It demands serenity and fluidity. Practitioners must always uphold the principle of 'rei'—respect. Arrogance and shortcuts have no place here."

"I recall a passage from the Book of Rites: Archery Principles," Li Guanqi chimed in. "'Archery is the way of benevolence. The archer must first correct himself before releasing the arrow. If he misses, he does not resent those who surpass him but reflects on his own shortcomings.' Your earlier antics hardly align with kyudo’s ideals."

"I just—" Su Cheng was at a loss. All he’d wanted was to enjoy his newfound strength, only to be scolded by the trio.

"Enough. What’s your situation now?" Ji Qingyi sighed and picked up a bow.

"My stamina’s fine, but when I focus while shooting, I can’t control my power."

"Can’t control it?"

Ji Qingyi examined the targets and quickly deduced the cause.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she asked sternly, "How does it feel, reaping what you’ve sown?"

Instead of training his body gradually, he’d relied on enhancers—a reckless shortcut. Now, not only could he not harness his strength, but he was trapped in a vicious cycle of losing control.

"President, please teach me proper kyudo form."

Su Cheng didn’t deny it. Instead, he made the request outright.

The facts were clear: without that trance, his posture faltered, yet focusing led to uncontrolled power. What he needed now was disciplined training to correct his movements.

Ji Qingyi donned her protective gear, closed her eyes, and steadied her breath. Only when her mind was still did she open them again.

She stood with feet apart, left hand holding the bow, right hand drawing the arrow—every motion elegant and solemn, like a peony in full bloom.

"Kyudo fundamentals consist of eight stages: ashibumi (footing), dozukuri (posture), yugamae (readying the bow), uchiokoshi (raising the bow), hikiwake (drawing), kai (full draw), hanare (release), and zanshin (remaining spirit)."

As she spoke, she slowly drew the bowstring. "Each stage must be executed precisely, without negligence."

With the bow fully drawn, her spine straightened like an unyielding pine.

"Master these eight stages, and you may glimpse kyudo’s ultimate pursuit—seisha hitchū (shooting correctly to hit surely)."

Her voice was firm. "Seisha means shooting with proper form and mindset. No matter the circumstances, the heart must remain unmoved. Only by discarding distractions and focusing on the present can you achieve seisha hitchū."

With that, she released the string.

The arrow pierced the air—straight into the bullseye.

The entire sequence flowed like water, seamless and breathtaking, leaving Su Cheng speechless.

"When kyudo’s etiquette becomes second nature, its artistic and meditative dimensions reveal themselves." Ji Qingyi lowered the bow and turned to Liu Qingyue, who understood immediately and called out:

"Assemble!"

"Yes!" The attendants in black snapped into formation, their voices crisp and unified.

"Team of five—prepare for volley!"

At Ji Qingyi’s command, four attendants stepped forward, taking positions at their targets.

With a single twang from Ji Qingyi’s bow on the far right, five arrows shot forth in near-perfect unison, each striking dead center.

The range echoed with the rhythmic symphony of strings and arrows—a majestic, almost orchestral harmony.

Su Cheng watched with rapt fascination, utterly enchanted by the way Ji Qingyi led the attendants—every movement they made exuded both graceful composure and formidable strength.

Their archery flowed like a seamless dance, an art form brimming with mesmerizing beauty that stirred his soul.

Recalling his own earlier frivolous behavior, he suddenly realized how disrespectful he had been, and a wave of remorse washed over him.

"I was too careless just now," Su Cheng said earnestly to the group. "My biggest flaw was my lack of proper attitude."

Ji Qingyi waved a hand, signaling the black-clad attendants to step aside, then casually walked a few paces toward Su Cheng. "Let me show you something more," she said. "If you can reach the state of 'no-mind'—where your focus is undisturbed, unswayed by external distractions—where the arrow on the string and your heart on the target become one, then the self-control issues troubling you will naturally resolve."

As she spoke, she closed her eyes, slowly nocked an arrow, drew the bow, and turned. Yet despite standing right before Su Cheng, she seemed to vanish from his perception, as if no one named Ji Qingyi had ever been there demonstrating for him.

A breath later, a gentle breeze brushed against his cheek. Turning with the wind, he saw another arrow embedded perfectly in the bullseye.