Amidst the Waves [Wuthering Waves]

The following days passed in a blur of routine and persistence, each adding a new layer to the unspoken tension surrounding Kyroin's solitary existence.

--

Day 1

The warm aroma of freshly cooked rice and steamed vegetables wafted through the air as Changli appeared, her determined smile barely hiding her frustration. "Ky-chan! Lunch is served!" she called out cheerily, holding a neatly wrapped lunch box.

Kyroin's hand froze mid-motion as he plucked another herb. His brows furrowed in irritation. "Don't call me that," he muttered, his voice flat. "And I've told you already—I'm not interested."

Unfazed, Changli placed the lunch box on a nearby rock. "Fine. Don't eat it," she said, crossing her arms. "But I'm leaving it here. Just in case you get tired of chewing on bland rabbit all day."

Kyroin didn't respond, continuing his task with deliberate precision. By midday, the untouched lunch box sat as stoically as its intended recipient, who now skewered a fresh rabbit over an open flame. From a distance, Changli huffed, her cheeks puffed in frustration.

--

Day 2

Changli arrived earlier this time, only to find Kyroin already locked in a terse conversation with Xuanmiao.

"You really are a persistent, old man," Kyroin said, his gaze sharp. "What is it now?"

Xuanmiao chuckled, stroking his beard. "Relax, boy. I'm not here to teach you my techniques. Those are for Changli. I'm here to share something… broader."

Kyroin's eyes narrowed. "Broader?"

"Resonance," Xuanmiao said, his grin widening.

Despite his better judgment, Kyroin's interest was piqued. The term carried weight, sparking a faint flicker of curiosity. "Fine," he said after a pause. "Talk."

Watching from a distance, Changli clenched her fists. "He'll listen to him but won't even taste the food I bring?" she muttered, stomping away in exasperation.

--

Day 3

Another day, another rejection. Changli's lunch sat untouched yet again as Kyroin, oblivious to her efforts, roasted another bird he had caught that morning.

Later that night, the soft whistle of a blade slicing through the cool air caught his attention. He glanced toward the source and spotted Changli practising her swordsmanship under the pale moonlight. Her movements were raw and unrefined, but they carried a determined energy that was impossible to ignore.

He turned away, intent on returning to his tasks, but something made him pause. For a brief moment, he wondered: 'When did my own passion for learning begin to fade?'

--

Day 7

By now, Changli's daily appearances were as routine as the sunrise. Kyroin barely acknowledged her as she approached, this time holding not just a lunch box but a handful of herbs and spices.

"At least let me season it for you," she said, placing the ingredients beside him.

Kyroin didn't even glance her way. "No need."

"Why are you so stubborn?" she snapped, her frustration evident.

"Why are you?" he shot back, his cold gaze meeting hers.

Changli opened her mouth to retort but thought better of it. She set the lunch box down with a huff and walked away, muttering under her breath: "Stupid."

Later, during his usual session with Xuanmiao, Kyroin sat cross-legged, his mind dissecting every word the old man shared about resonance.

Despite his stoic demeanour, a faint flicker of interest shone in his eyes as he pieced together the knowledge, tweaking it to fit his understanding.

As the day wound down, Kyroin sighed, glancing at the untouched lunch box Changli had left behind. Her persistence was baffling, and yet, it lingered in his thoughts like a faint echo, challenging the solitude he was so determined to maintain.

Later that night, Xia called Kyroin aside, her tone gentle but firm. "Be a little kind to Changli," she said, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

Kyroin nodded silently, though his expression betrayed little of his thoughts.

--

Day 8

The morning sun filtered through the dense forest canopy as Kyroin prepared his usual meal. Today, however, there was a subtle change in his routine—he had hunted two rabbits instead of one. Changli arrived as usual, lunch box in hand, but her brows furrowed slightly at the sight.

"Did your appetite grow?" she asked, half-joking.

"No," Kyroin replied evenly as he pointed at the rabbits. "Can you help me prepare these?"

Changli froze, the unexpected request catching her off guard. But her hesitation quickly gave way to excitement, her eyes twinkling as she nodded. "Of course!" she said, eagerly rolling up her sleeves.

As they worked together to marinate the meat, Changli opened her lunch box and scooped up a bite. "Say ahh," she said with a teasing smile, holding the spoon toward him.

Kyroin raised an eyebrow. "What are you up to?"

"Let me feed you," she replied, her tone light but insistent.

"There's no need," Kyroin said, gesturing to the rabbit they were preparing. But Changli leaned closer, her determination unwavering.

"Just once," she urged. "Come on."

Kyroin sighed, his patience wearing thin. 'Why is she so persistent?' he wondered. Finally, he relented, his tone exasperated. "Fine. If it'll make you shut up, then sure."

Changli beamed as she fed him a bite, her grin widening mischievously. "If you call me elder sister and let me call you Ky-chan, I'll always feed you like this," she said, her cheeks flushing at the end, as she processed the words that she just uttered. "W-wait, don't misunderstand!"

"Never," Kyroin replied curtly, shaking his head. "As I've said, we're neither related nor close enough to give each other nicknames."

Changli hesitated, her confidence faltering for a moment. "But… are we at least friends?"

Kyroin paused, considering her words. "Think of it however you want," he finally said.

Changli's eyes lit up. "Alright!" she exclaimed triumphantly. Before she could revel in her small victory, Xuanmiao appeared, his expression smug.

"Perfect," the old man said, clasping his hands. "I'll teach both of you simultaneously from now on."

Changli silently grumbled, "This should've happened way earlier," as she glanced at Kyroin, who remained as detached as ever. Despite spending more time together, he still kept an icy distance.

Within his mental consciousness, DEVA's voice chimed in, her tone dripping with mockery. "The Great Wall of Ice," she muttered, cursing Kyroin's emotional resistance.

Day 21

The campfire crackled in the afternoon stillness, its flames licking at the air as three rabbits roasted on the spit. Kyroin sat cross-legged beside it, his usual stoic expression not betraying even the slightest flicker of emotion.

"Boy," Xuanmiao's voice cut through the crackling fire, sharp and expectant. "What do you think is the most necessary thing for a Resonator to master resonance?"

Kyroin's gaze wandered as the question settled in his mind, his thoughts momentarily clouded by its weight. The fire beside him hissed as the scent of cooking meat filled the air, yet it did little to warm the chill creeping into his chest.

Always different, always set apart—he had never quite belonged, as if the world around him was misaligned, failing to fit him. 

His approach to resonance had always been unconventional, earning him admiration from some and disdain from others. The balance between the two had been a constant, much like the unresolved tension in the air now.

Clearing his throat, Kyroin spoke, his voice steady yet edged with the bitterness of being misunderstood. "Resonance is about balance. It's about understanding the flow of frequencies—not in some rigid, structured way, but through perception, through intuition."

He paused, his eyes briefly closing as he recalled the countless theoretical scenarios he had once considered, scenarios that felt more real the longer he lingered on them.

"The key isn't mastery," he continued, "it's about understanding the essence of your energy and allowing it to move naturally. It's not something you force—it's something you align with, in your way."

Xuanmiao's eyes narrowed, the silence stretching between them, thick with unspoken tension. The old man's lips pressed into a tight line as his gaze met Kyroin's, a flicker of disappointment barely concealed. "Creative, but impractical," he muttered under his breath.

"That's a nice theory," Xuanmiao remarked, his voice carrying the weight of experience, "but it's not how the world works. There's no place for 'intuition' in resonance—only structure." His tone was firm, unwavering.

"You can't expect to succeed with a whimsical approach. You need discipline and control. Resonance is about calibrating yourself, shaping your energy to fit a set pattern."

Kyroin, though typically the type to accept the old man's words in silence, was different today. He wasn't ready to back down—not this time.

"And that's the problem," he countered, his voice gaining strength. "You're advocating for a structured, predictable path, but what happens when that method doesn't work?"

Xuanmiao's eyes flickered for a moment, surprise mingling with curiosity. Kyroin's challenge wasn't something he had anticipated. The silence stretched a beat longer, Xuanmiao processing the question before responding.

"What happens when you encounter a force your method can't control?" Kyroin continued, his tone sharp, his conviction clear. "You're trapped. Stuck, forced into a rigid box."

The words hung in the air, and Changli, who had been quietly observing the exchange, felt herself caught between the two men. Her hands twisted in her lap, the weight of their arguments pressing heavily on her chest.

She understood Kyroin's approach was unorthodox, but there was something raw in his conviction—a fire that resonated with her.

Still, a sense of unease lingered. She felt as though they were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, a precipice she couldn't yet fully comprehend.

She cleared her throat, steadying herself. "May I answer?" Her voice was soft at first, uncertain, but when Xuanmiao nodded, granting her permission, something inside her shifted.

Changli straightened her back, her posture more assured now, and her voice rang out with newfound confidence. "I believe the most necessary thing is understanding resonance through experience, through grounded practice." Her words held weight, a calm clarity settling over her as she spoke.

"It's about feeling the energy, channelling it, and working to align with it until you become one with it." She paused for a moment, her gaze shifting between Kyroin and Xuanmiao.

There was a subtle counterpoint in her tone as she continued, her perspective different from Kyroin's. "The methods may vary," she said, "but it's only through repetition and discipline that one can truly master it." 

Her approach, unlike Kyroin's emphasis on freedom of control and adaptation, leaned more toward harmony with resonance—one built on consistency and the gradual process of becoming attuned to its flow, rather than changing its nature to suit oneself.

Xuanmiao's approving nod came quickly, his grin returning with that all-too-familiar satisfaction. "Correct. That's the right answer, Changli. Method, discipline, and consistency. There's no shortcut."

But Kyroin's expression darkened, his narrowed eyes locking onto Changli with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. His voice, when it came, was sharp and deliberate, like the crack of ice under pressure.

"No, Changli's answer is right, in the sense that it's the best option for a predictable, methodical approach," he began, his tone sharp but thoughtful. "But that's exactly the problem—it's too rigid." 

He let the words hang in the air, his eyes meeting Changli's briefly before returning to Xuanmiao. "It's as if you're following a set path, like a compass," he continued, his voice growing a bit intense.

"But it doesn't allow for flexibility. It locks you into a method without considering other possibilities." His words were laced with the complaint of a man who craved more autonomy, more freedom in his approach, beyond the constraints of structured tradition.

Changli felt a heat rise to her face, the sting of Kyroin's words hitting harder than she expected. She fought the urge to retreat, to apologize, but she refused to back down. "But without structure, how can anyone improve?" Her voice held more strength now, an edge to it she hadn't realized was there.

Kyroin's gaze shifted to her, his lips parting open as he spoke with the weight of conviction. "To me, improvement isn't just about repetition or structure. It's about understanding the unknown, and finding the hidden ways."

Kyroin's voice grew more pointed, the unconventional wisdom in his words unmistakable. "Resonance can't be confined to a set method. What happens when you encounter something unexpected?"

He leaned forward, his eyes sharp as he challenged the very foundations of rigid thinking. "If all you know is your method, how do you adapt? How do you grow beyond it?"

His words struck with a sharp edge, questioning not just the technical dilemmas, but the low-probability scenarios where flexibility and innovation were key to survival.

He wasn't just arguing for the sake of it—he was pressing for a way to evolve, to break free from the confines of tradition and embrace something broader.

The tension in the air thickened, and Xuanmiao's interruption sliced through the growing silence. "You think someone can just blindly feel their way through resonance? It's chaos!"

Kyroin's response was quick, slicing through the air with the sharpness of ice. "No. It's about trust. Trust in one's instincts and the surroundings."

He leaned in slightly, his frustration evident as he elaborated. "Resonance can be calculated, but it can also be felt, discovered, and embraced organically."

He paused, his words tinged with dissatisfaction towards rigid norms. "I'm not saying to abandon structure, but to expand it—to make it adaptable to the moment, not a predetermined, orchestrated approach."

Xuanmiao's face tightened, his lips pressing together in frustration. His gaze flickered between Kyroin and Changli, and then he let out a long sigh, as though the weight of the conversation had begun to take its toll.

"I suppose a certain amount of flexibility does have its place, but not at the expense of everything else." He admitted.

Kyroin gave a curt nod, his gaze unbothered as he spoke with quiet finality. "Exactly. A method is necessary, but so is the freedom to forge your path within it. You should be able to cognitively shape that path by attuning your resonance as needed."

Kyroin's argument was unconventional—almost reckless in its defiance of tradition and what had been proven to work. Yet there was a fire in his words, a restless drive from a man weary of following the same, trodden path.

"Be that as it may, however, Kyroin," Xuanmiao interjected, his voice cutting through the moment and drawing the attention of both.

He stroked his beard, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Creative as you may sound, you're overcomplicating things. Theoretical brilliance isn't the same as practicality. Cognitive flexibility? Hah! You'd spend your whole life chasing an impossible ideal."

The dismissal hung in the air, sharp and biting. Changli's brow furrowed as worry flickered in her chest. Would Kyroin take Xuanmiao's words to heart and retreat into his solitary shell?

But Kyroin's face betrayed nothing. "If it's impossible, then no harm in trying," he said evenly, his tone neutral.

Xuanmiao chuckled, though there was a hint of condescension in it. "Suit yourself, boy. Just don't waste your days chasing clouds."

Changli wanted to interject, to reassure Kyroin, but the tension between the two made her hesitate. Kyroin, however, seemed unaffected, continuing with his tasks as if the conversation had never happened.

Later that night, while everyone else slept soundly, Kyroin sat cross-legged in his room, his form as still as the trees. He didn't lie down to sleep. Instead, he closed his eyes, his breathing steady as he sank into a deep meditation.

Within his mental consciousness, DEVA's voice chimed in, laced with intrigue and a touch of sarcasm. "Meditating, huh? Let me guess, you're trying to channel the essence of those Wuxia novels where cultivators grow stronger by meditating for days on end?"

She chuckled, a mechanical buzz accompanying her voice. "Sorry to disappoint, but sitting there like a stone isn't going to increase your resonance, no matter how poetic it seems."

When Kyroin didn't respond, she sighed. "Oh, great. He's asleep with his eyes closed now. What a riveting personality."

But as her words trailed off, DEVA noticed something unusual. Kyroin's expression, typically impassive, began to shift.

His lips curved faintly, his face showing a rare hint of emotion—something close to intoxication, as though he were lost in a moment of deep clarity.

"Wait a second," DEVA muttered, her circuits buzzing with surprise. "Is that… a smile? That ice façade of yours can change?"

The sight left her momentarily speechless. Though Kyroin remained silent, his expression revealed more than words ever could—a fleeting glimpse into the emotions he usually kept locked away.

For DEVA, who had spent countless moments lingering in his mind, it was an unexpected discovery: behind the Great Wall of Ice lay a depth she hadn't anticipated. 

To be continued...

****

A/N: Someone asked for an explanation of Xia's condition and her current illusory nature, I think I will answer that in the next chapter.