For a moment, silence lingered between them. The night air grew heavy, filled with Shen Yao's quiet anticipation.
"Umm… Brother Ye?" Shen Yao slowly lifted his head, meeting Ye Kaishan's gaze.
Ye Kaishan remained dazed for a moment, caught in a quiet dilemma. His thoughts churned before he finally sighed and spoke.
"Shen Yao, though it might sound discouraging, you're really not suited for the sword. Even if you study martial arts, your comprehension of the sword will only remain superficial. You're more inclined toward fist cultivation."
Shen Yao's eyes dimmed for an instant, then he exhaled softly. "Brother Ye…" He paused, his voice trembling. "Even I know I lack the temperament for the sword.
I can feel it—I'm more attuned to the path of the fist. But still, I want to try. If not the sword, then the fist! I only ask for your guidance."
"Fist cultivation?" Ye Kaishan's eyes narrowed. I've only ever studied the sword… he thought, glancing at the empty courtyard. His gaze drifted toward the old pine tree, then something suddenly clicked in his mind. His eyes brightened.
"Wait—I might have a solution for you."
"Eh?" Shen Yao blinked, puzzled.
"Let's head down first," Ye Kaishan said.
They both leaped down from the roof, landing lightly beneath the old pine tree in the courtyard. The cool night breeze brushed past them, carrying the scent of pine and earth.
"Sit here," Ye Kaishan instructed, pointing to the table.
"Brother Ye, I thought you were going to teach me?" Shen Yao asked, confusion clouding his tone.
Ye Kaishan frowned. "Do you want my help or not?"
"Wait, wait—I'll sit!" Shen Yao hurriedly sat cross-legged on the stone table.
"Close your eyes and relax your body," Ye Kaishan said as he placed a hand on Shen Yao's back.
Shen Yao obeyed, taking a deep breath as the tension melted from his shoulders.
The moonlight poured down upon the courtyard, casting long shadows of the two figures onto the ground.
A faint dark-blue glow flickered in Ye Kaishan's eyes. Space-law energy pulsed through his fingers as he pressed several points along Shen Yao's spine.
"Space—Manipulation."
A wave of invisible force pulsed outward.
Shen Yao's body trembled slightly as he felt the foreign energy invade his meridians—crawling like thousands of ants beneath his skin. Yet, despite the discomfort, he remained still and silent.
In the Soul Spirit Continent, a man could not cultivate unless bonded as a dao companion with a woman, drawing upon the harmony of yin and yang. Many men's meridians remained blocked, unable to channel spiritual energy without that balance.
Ye Kaishan recalled Song Yan's words as he carefully guided his space laws into Shen Yao's body.
Though many factors influence a man's cultivation, one of the most significant is the blockage of meridians within his body.
But what if a man's meridians could be unlocked externally?
He had pondered this before—but never dared to try.
But now, seeing Shen Yao's resolve, Ye Kaishan couldn't help but feel moved. For the first time, he dared to give it a try.
Even the slightest mistake could tear his meridians apart, Ye Kaishan thought, his expression solemn. Sweat beaded along his temples as he continued manipulating his space energy.
The Source Laws flowed through his meridian channels, the vital pathways responsible for circulating qi.
Within the human body, there exist twenty meridians—twelve primary and eight extraordinary—each governing the harmony of energy and life force.
The blue light pulsed steadily. One by one, Shen Yao's meridian channels began to open. The space energy devoured the blockages within, clearing the flow of qi through his body.
Two hours passed.
"Haa…" Ye Kaishan exhaled heavily. "This is more exhausting than I expected." His hands trembled, yet he continued.
"This is the last part," he muttered, his fingers growing numb as his pace slowed.
Why does this feel like dual cultivation? he thought irritably. No, no… what nonsense am I thinking? I must be too tired.
The night deepened. The city sounds faded into silence, leaving only the rustling of grass and the distant chirping of night insects.
After three hours, Ye Kaishan finally withdrew his hand and slumped onto a stone chair, breathing hard. "I didn't think it would take this long… but it's done."
Before him, Shen Yao stood in silent awe. His body felt light, his pores open, and qi began to circulate freely.
Spiritual energy entered his body for the first time, flooding him with vitality. Drops of sweat rolled down his chin, yet a faint smile curved his lips.
"Is this… real?" he whispered, half-in disbelief.
He turned toward Ye Kaishan, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply.
"Brother Ye, thank you. If not for you, I would have remained powerless. I, Shen Yao, swear that if you ever need my help in the future, I will not hesitate."
Ye Kaishan looked at him calmly. "I didn't help you expecting a return. Just continue walking your path.
And remember—although your meridians are now open, this will only support you up to the Soul Forging Realm. Beyond that, your progress will halt without a dao companion."
"That's enough for me," Shen Yao replied with quiet conviction. "At least I won't remain powerless anymore."
Ye Kaishan nodded slightly. Though this method worked, he'll still need a dao companion to advance further. I've done what I can. The rest is up to his fate.
He leaned back and waved a hand tiredly. "Go and cultivate. I'll rest here for a while."
"Alright, Brother Ye. Rest well—I'll meet you in the morning." Shen Yao gave a respectful nod before leaving for his room.
Under the bright moonlight and a sky full of stars, Ye Kaishan leaned back on the stone chair.
His gaze fell upon the sword manual resting beside him. A cool breeze brushed through the courtyard, rustling the grass and carrying the faint chirps of night insects.
The world around him felt vast and silent—yet alive.
Inside the manor
Song Yan sat cross-legged, her body surrounded by a trembling aura of soul energy that gathered into a small swirling vortex. Her expression remained serene as the energy was refined, absorbed, and transformed into her own power.
After a while, she exhaled softly, a thin wisp of white mist escaping her lips as her eyes slowly opened.
"I don't know the exact details," she murmured, her gaze narrowing with resolve, "but that token must be hidden within the Yaochi's treasure vault."
Her fingers tightened slightly. I must win this tournament if I wish to open that vault and obtain the token.
"The Sect Leader—the Holy Empress of Yaochi—has been gone for a hundred years and shows no sign of returning," she whispered, her tone faint yet steady.
Determination glimmered in her eyes as she closed them once more, sinking back into cultivation while the faint hum of spiritual energy filled the quiet room.
...…
Far away from the Heavenreach Citadel, atop a colossal mountain shrouded in dense, swirling mist, visibility was reduced to nothing. The fog was so thick it seemed to devour even the faintest glimmer of light.
Two figures—Xue Lang and Yin Mo—descended through the haze. The mist rippled and swallowed them whole as black shadows darted within it, their movements silent and sinister. Moments later, the fog began to thin, revealing a chilling sight.
Hundreds of black-robed cultivators stood kneeling in unison. Each wore a hideous Rakshasa mask that concealed their faces, leaving only cold, glinting eyes visible.
A vile, suffocating aura filled the air as their heads remained bowed before four towering stone pillars. Three were occupied—one stood ominously empty.
Yin Mo landed gracefully atop of the empty pillar while Xue Lang's figure faded into soul subspace.
"Yin Mo, why are you so late? Do you not remember what the plan was?" Chi Ruo frowned, her voice sharp as her eyes glared upward.
"I know we're late," Yin Mo replied with a lazy smirk, her tone laced with mockery, "but at least we came.
And speaking of plans…" Her gaze turned cold as she locked eyes with Chi Ruo.
"If it weren't for your incompetence, we wouldn't have needed to alter our approach in the first place."
"You—!" Chi Ruo's eyes blazed with anger, her killing intent flaring.
"Enough. "A voice from the third pillar cut through the tension—calm yet carrying the oppressive weight of a Saint's spiritual pressure. The power in that voice silenced the air itself.
Chi Ruo clenched her fists and turned away, snorting in frustration.
"Now that everyone has gathered," the woman on the fourth pillar spoke, her tone composed yet commanding, "we shall commence the meeting."
She was dressed in flowing white robes, a sword resting across her back. Her hair was elegantly tied with a wooden hairpin, her features refined—an aura of authority radiating from her presence.
With a mere wave of her hand, she gave a single command: "Leave."
At once, the hundreds of masked cultivators below vanished into the mist, leaving only the four figures on the pillars.
"Our plan will be set in motion on the day of the Yaochi Tournament," she said slowly, her voice echoing through the mountain.
"The Holy Empress of Yaochi remains absent from the continent, and most of the elders of the Yaochi Holy Land will not attend. Only minor elders and disciples will preside."
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the remaining three. "In these past two weeks, we have already planted the required arrays and formations.
When activated, they will sever all connections and pathways to the outside world."
A faint smile touched her lips. "The final rune was placed today—right within the Yaochi's martial arena, where the tournament will be held. None suspected a thing while they busied themselves managing the disturbances outside."
Turning slightly, her eyes met the woman beside her—a figure draped in black robes, wearing a crimson Rakshasa mask.
"It was wise to enlist the Shadow Moon Sect," the white-robed woman said. "Their skill in assassination and speed is unmatched."
The masked woman tilted her head, her tone cool and measured. "Don't forget our agreement. I lent my people only because your plan was sound—and because of the rewards promised after the succession.
Were it not for that, I'd never have allied with your Corpse Devouring Sect or the Nine Flames Empire."
The air grew heavier as their gazes locked, the faint echo of wind whispering through the misty peaks like the murmur of ghosts.