Not the Intended Lesson
Taz positioned his index fingers and thumbs into a triangle again. This time he forcefully pushed his chi into his hands rather than merely guiding it, and exhaled. The stump in front of him burst, exploding into ring of flying splinters. Taz threw his arm up in front of his face but stinging lines along his cheek told him he’d moved too slowly.
Without warning his considerable strength abandoned him. Completely weakend, Taz dropped to his knees. It was all he could do to keep himself from falling on to his face. The manual had never mentioned this side effect. He didn’t feel hurt, just exhausted, as if he had swam all day long.
Shoving himself up from the ground, Taz tried to regain his footing but his legs failed him and he collapsed to the ground, rocks digging painfully into his skin.
Not being able to get up was frustrating. Taz glared at the ground. An ant crawled along a leaf taking tiny steps. Satori struck, filling Taz with humility.
On his hands and knees, Taz crawled back toward the cabin.