For fifteen straight days, Li Xun didn't get a single moment of rest. Over and over, he just did two things: resist… then rebuild!
Finally, the moment he endured the fifteenth wave of Blood Nightmare Devouring Heart, his strength gave out completely. He collapsed face-first onto the ground, unable to even lift a finger.
Who knew how long he slept. By the time he woke up, just as expected, the Golden Core True Breath Lock-Structure he had slaved over had once again collapsed completely. Dozens of days of effort, all destroyed in one shot.
At that moment, Li Xun really felt like dying.
After slamming a fist into the floor, he stood up gloomily. His body had mostly healed, and he actually felt kind of refreshed—probably thanks to that long, deep sleep.
He was about to dive back into studying when he suddenly did a quick mental count of the days—and his heart skipped a beat.
Master said to report my progress once a month…what day is it now?
That thought made him break into a cold sweat. He rushed out of his cave residence and scaled the cliffside. Outise, the world was dark and heavy—it was already deep into the night.
Looked like it had just snowed recently. The ground was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, nearly two inches deep, reflecting the faint starlight.
He glanced around. The lights in the nearby building were out. Not wanting to disturb Lin Ge at this hour, he decided to wait until morning.
He tiptoed around the side of the building, taking the mountain path down the peak. But after just a few li, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Something felt off.
Thinking back, he realized that his Second and Third Martial Uncles' residences had been tidy and well-kept—the snow had been swept clean, warm lights glowed from inside, and you could even hear faint chatter from within. Cozy and lively.
But his master's doorstep? Thick snow piled up in front, messy footprints leading in and out, and the whole building pitch-black, not a single hint of light. He hadn't thought much of it at first… but now, the contrast was striking—and frankly, a little depressing.
He never had much affection for Master Lin Ge, and Lin Ge himself didn't care much for his disciple either. They didn't interact much. At first, Li Xun tried sucking up, but Lin didn't respond well, so he eventually gave up. Most of the time, he'd just show up for greetings, then retreat back to his cave to train. As for serving tea or running errands, he avoided it whenever he could. Lin Ge didn't seem to mind.
Usually, Li Xun didn't feel much about it.
But now—seeing the lonely building in the dead of night, snow-covered and silent—he felt a strange pang in his chest. A sliver of pity, even.
Why should his master, Lin Ge, be the only one left in this kind of cold and desolate state? How was Li Xun supposed to face others in the future if this was the condition of the man who taught him?
With that sudden thought, he stopped walking down the mountain—and turned back.
Back at the little tower, he took a deep breath, dmarked out an area, channeled his true breath into his palm, and—shove—sent a slab of snow skidding across the ground.
The snow made a loud crunching noise as it slid, sharp and clear in the stillness of the night. Li Xun flinched at the sound and quickly froze in place.
If someone saw what he was doing now… he'd die of embarrassment.
He rubbed his chin, paced around, then suddenly had an idea. Carefully, quietly, he crouched down and pressed his fingers into the snow. Feet barely disturbing the ground, he circled the building over a dozen times, carving out countless intricate patterns in the snow as he went. This kind of thing? Totally his specialty.
In the span of just those dozen circles, he'd laid down a Snow-Diverting Formation—his own name for it. In truth, it was just a clever use of the Wind Pattern.
The trick was to gradually loosen the layers of snow, then let the mountain wind blow away the top layers in gentle gusts—layer by layer, until the whole thing cleared out. Silent, efficient, and not even a trace of true breath used. All done by the elegance of the formation's markings.
Simple setup, but packed with finesse.
Once everything was ready, and he saw the powdery snow rising softly into the air, Li Xun couldn't help but grin in satisfaction.
He'd barely smiled twice when he suddenly spotted a figure at the doorway—a wide-robed silhouette, standing still where no one had been before. In the darkness, those eyes glimmered faintly, looking straight at him.
Li Xun froze.
His jaw dropped. He was completely stunned.
"Come inside," said Lin Ge, turning around and stepping into the house without a backward glance.
Li Xun scratched his head awkwardly and followed in.
Inside, the long-dark tower finally lit up—bright and warm.
The light came from a rare pearl, about seven-tenths of an inch in diameter, glowing gently from a wall shelf. It radiated Lin Ge's wealth without needing to say a word.
After placing the pearl on the stand, Lin Ge sat down and glanced at his disciple, who respectfully stood there with his arms at his sides.
"You were working on the first step of the Art, weren't you?"
His tone was as casual as always, but Li Xun didn't dare take it lightly. He bowed deeply.
"Yes, Master."
"How did it go?"
Li Xun looked a little embarrassed. "This disciple is lacking. I only just finished it before… it collapsed again."
"Collapsed?" Lin Ge raised an eyebrow. He didn't know this was actually Li Xun's second full attempt, and matter-of-factly said, "That's expected for a first structure. It's delicate, unstable, and easily disrupted. It usually takes a few tries.
"But judging by your temperament, you're neither weak-willed nor the type of fool who gets distracted. You likely proceeded with great caution—how could it have been destroyed so easily?"
Li Xun had already come up with an excuse. He coughed lightly and said, "It's true my mind wandered… because Senior Sister Qi Bi… well, the thing is—"
Seeing a flicker of surprise cross Lin Ge's face, Li Xun realized the old man had gotten the wrong idea. He quickly waved his hands and rushed to explain: "That day on Guanxia Peak, Senior Sister Qi Bi used the Crimson Shroud Sword Art. I was reckless and tried deducing a few steps of it with what I've studied so far. I didn't get very far, but it was interesting. Then later, while cultivating, I don't know how, something just clicked—and the true breath clashed and the whole structure collapsed…"
He'd had no choice but to spin this lie. He couldn't very well tell Lin Ge the truth—about Blood Nightmare and Yinfire. The old man might just smack him to death on the spot. So he dragged in the "Crimson Shroud Sword Art" as a cover, half-truth, half-lie.
That sword art had indeed been giving him headaches lately, though it wasn't nearly disruptive enough to break his focus. Still, the ancient texts often warned against "overreaching beyond one's current stage" as a danger to cultivation. So this excuse was plausible enough.
Sure enough, while Lin Ge didn't catch every detail, he believed the general gist. He asked a few questions about Li Xun's condition, to which Li Xun naturally replied, "All good, no issues."
Lin Ge nodded. "The fact that you could draw insights from the Crimson Shroud Sword Art shows your eye for technique is sharp. But recognizing patterns and making deductions doesn't mean your body is ready to handle the technique. For now, set it aside and focus on the basics. If you're still interested in that sword art later… I can teach it to you myself."
This was the first time Lin Ge referred to himself as "your teacher." Clearly, he was starting to see Li Xun in a more favorable light. Li Xun, satisfied with that, quickly bowed in thanks.
With a motion of his hand, Lin Ge gestured for him to rise and asked, "Any other difficulties you've run into lately?"
"Many! I was hoping to ask for your guidance!" Li Xun wasn't about to pass up this chance. Without hesitation, he poured out all the questions he'd built up about the structure of the "Golden Core True Breath Lock."
Worried he wouldn't explain clearly, he mustered up his courage and asked for paper and brush. Then he began to sketch.
It was the first time Lin Ge saw Li Xun lay out his thoughts like this. A seasoned cultivator like him only needed a glance to see where the foundation of Li Xun's logic came from. He couldn't help but nod with praise. "It's rare to see someone delve this deep into these techniques."
Li Xun was pleased but kept a calm face and just kept raising questions, one after another.
At first, Lin Ge answered casually. But soon, he started having to pause and think before responding. That shift reminded Li Xun of his earlier conversation with Qingxu.
Eventually, Lin Ge was the one looking puzzled. "This change in qi flow around the orifice… seems kind of pointless. Was it just for reinforcement?"
Li Xun admired his sharp eye. He scratched his head, looking embarrassed. "I was worried about another accident. Thought I'd prepare more thoroughly and get it done in one shot."
Lin Ge shook his head slightly. "It's still just theory on paper. How's your actual control of true breath within your Golden Core?"
Li Xun obviously couldn't admit he'd already tested it—successfully. He just scratched his head again and gave a sheepish chuckle. "Still not too sure…"
Lin Ge smiled, took the brush, and made a few small adjustments to the drawing. "How about this version?"
Just a few strokes, yet they carried the weight of his centuries of experience, insight, and refined intuition—lofty and masterful in a way that made you feel the difference instantly.
With this tweak, not only was the burden on true breath control drastically reduced, but the whole structure became far more stable. Li Xun only took one look and was completely hooked.
With this method, what was there to fear from Blood Nightmare or Yinfire? Even if something broke apart temporarily, he could restore it quickly. Lin Ge had only altered one piece—but using that same idea, why not refine other key points too?
No sooner did the thought arise than Li Xun acted. He didn't even think about flattering Lin Ge anymore—just buried his head in the table and dove into working it out. But this intense focus? It was the best kind of flattery.
Lin Ge looked at him, saw how quickly he caught on, and praised him silently. And then, a thought stirred in his heart: This boy really is like me…
Back when he was still cultivating on the mountain, he was just like this—sharp, quick to grasp new ideas, and fiercely driven to refine them. His master, Daoist Qingming, used to praise his talent endlessly. And now, those same words might as well be meant for Li Xun.
A hundred years gone in a blink. He was no longer the famed Heart-Heaven Sword, and the boy in front of him was no longer some treasured prodigy born with the world at his feet.
Was that why Master handed him over to me…?