At that moment, Chen Fan slowly opened his eyes. Had anyone been watching, they would have noticed a strange phenomenon—his eyes were gleaming, glowing like light bulbs. It was only after a long pause that the radiance gradually receded.
"The Void Body-Tempering Technique truly deserves its reputation as the foremost Foundation Establishment method of this age," Chen Fan murmured with deep emotion. "It was my very first attempt at cultivation, and I've already broken through the threshold, stepping directly into the early Foundation realm. At this pace, I'll reach the Profound Connection stage in no more than half a year."
He had not expected such rapid progress on Earth—a spiritual wasteland by cultivation standards. While some of this was due to the advantages of reincarnating and beginning anew, it was also a testament to how extraordinary the Daoist Sect's foundational technique truly was.
Rising to his feet, Chen Fan gave his body a sharp shake. Instantly, it let out a series of crisp cracks and pops, like beans sizzling in a hot wok.
Clenching his fists, he felt an overwhelming surge of raw power coursing through him.
Suddenly, he lashed out with a punch at a nearby willow tree. The massive tree—so thick two adults would be needed to encircle it—trembled violently, shedding a cascade of leaves.
As he drew his fist back, Chen Fan saw a deep imprint several inches into the trunk.
This ancient willow must have been over a century old, its wood hard as iron. A blow like that, if struck against a human, would pierce straight through the body.
And this was merely the result of his first cultivation session. With time, as his power deepened, he would be able to shatter the tree with a single strike. What's more, he hadn't even used his true essence—only brute physical strength.
The Void Body-Tempering Technique refined not only one's energy but also one's flesh. At this point, Chen Fan could already be considered half a superhuman.
Yet he couldn't help shaking his head. Compared to the might of his former life, when he could crush stars with a flick of the finger, a fist mark a few inches deep was hardly worth mentioning.
"There's still a long way to go," he sighed softly. It was only then, as the sun leapt over the distant lake horizon, that he realized he had been sitting there the entire night. Strangely, he felt no fatigue at all—quite the opposite, in fact. His spirit was brimming with energy.
His stomach, however, told a different story—it was growling. After all, he was still in a mortal body and had not yet achieved the level of subsisting without food. Going a full day and night without eating had taken its toll.
Dusting off his clothes, he decided to return home and reward his belly with a hearty meal.
But just as he stepped out of the willow grove, three figures approached him from the opposite direction.
A woman in a white training outfit was supporting an elderly man in a traditional Tang suit, who appeared to be in his seventies. Trailing behind them was a lean, sharp-eyed young man who radiated an aura of alertness and discipline.
It was an unusual trio.
The woman with the ponytail, in particular, caught one's eye. Her features were elegant and frosty, her figure tall and proud, her chest prominent. She was no less stunning than Jiang Churan—perhaps even more so, thanks to her valiant demeanor.
Still basking in the afterglow of his cultivation breakthrough, Chen Fan paid them little mind, casting only a fleeting glance before moving on.
Yet all three had clearly noticed him.
As they brushed past, the sharp-eyed young man stared at him intently. Once Chen Fan had walked a distance away, he turned to the elder, as though seeking direction.
The old man shook his head gently. "Likely just a jogger passing by. Nothing but coincidence."
…
Back home at the lakeside residence, Chen Fan first stopped by a breakfast stall and devoured a mountain of food. Then he hit the supermarket for daily necessities, followed by a visit to the herbal medicine shop, where he ordered a batch of medicinal herbs. By the time he returned, it was already noon.
It was then that Aunt Tang called, warmly inviting him to join them for lunch.
The thought of facing Jiang Haishan and Jiang Churan and their perpetually cold expressions made Chen Fan's head ache. He quickly made an excuse about needing to study and declined the offer.
After hanging up, Chen Fan suddenly realized that neither his mother nor father had called to check on him—even though he had come alone to study in Chuzhou. Wasn't that something a parent should care about?
"Sometimes I feel like Aunt Tang cares about me more than my own mother," he muttered with a helpless smile.
But soon, he pushed the thought aside.
The herbs he had ordered had already arrived. Cultivation relying solely on personal effort was slow—painfully slow. Though the herbs available on Earth were weak and immature by cultivation standards, they were still better than nothing.
Instead of going through the hassle of decoctions, medicinal baths, or other laborious methods, Chen Fan simply drew a formation on the floor, scattered the herbs around it, then sat in the center. With a flick of his fingers and a chant, he activated the array. Fragrant energies rose from the herbs, flowing into his body.
"Spirit-Extraction Array."
One of the most basic formations of the cultivation world, even a Foundation Establishment practitioner could arrange it.
As its name suggested, it extracted spiritual essence from herbs and materials to aid in cultivation.
The cultivation world at the center of the universe had developed for countless millennia, refining their techniques to unmatched sophistication. Gone were the days of brewing, boiling, and soaking like in old wuxia novels—such methods were laughably primitive.
The Spirit-Extraction Array could draw energy not only from spiritual herbs, but also from spirit ores, spirit stones, spirit jades—and even the spiritual essence within magical treasures.
Of course, the effectiveness depended on the skill and power of the array's creator. Chen Fan, without question, was a grandmaster among array masters.
He cultivated until nightfall before opening his eyes again.
"Just a single afternoon of cultivation outperformed an entire night of effort. Pity it's not sustainable," he frowned. "These herbs are far too ordinary, yet outrageously expensive. The money my mother gave me is almost all gone after just one purchase. There's no way I can afford another round."
He hadn't even considered what he was buying—angelica, ginseng, astragalus, cordyceps—all high-grade medicinal ingredients.
"Seems like I'll have to go back to that spiritual hotspot from last night to continue cultivating," he sighed. Never had he imagined that he—a cultivator who had once reached the Tribulation Stage—would one day be stumped by mere financial constraints.
"Why's my mom so stingy with pocket money? She's clearly loaded," he grumbled with deep resentment.
After a full night's rest, Chen Fan rose at dawn the next morning, around five, and jogged back to the place he had discovered the night before.
To his surprise, it was already occupied.
A woman in a white training outfit stood under the willow tree by the lake, practicing her martial arts.
The elderly man in the Tang suit coughed occasionally, offering the girl brief pointers. The sharp-eyed young man leaned casually against a black SUV parked nearby, scanning the surroundings with wary eyes.
Wasn't this the same trio from yesterday morning?
Puzzled, Chen Fan approached. The old man gave him a brief glance, then turned away, focusing once more on the young woman's movements.
Yesterday, he had left in haste and hadn't examined them closely. Now that he looked again, Chen Fan noticed something different.
The woman in white was tall and striking, her movements graceful yet powerful. As she moved, her slim waist curved in rhythm with her punches, drawing sharp, fluid lines across her chest—imbuing her with a sense of heroic beauty.
But that wasn't what caught Chen Fan's attention.
What startled him was the faint trace of true essence flowing within her.
"Could she be… a cultivator?" he wondered in disbelief. "On Earth?"
No… Looking more carefully, Chen Fan soon realized something was off. "Her essence is far too thin, far too dispersed. It's a pale imitation of the real thing. She couldn't cast a single spell—she couldn't even draw a talisman. And the technique she's using only runs through a few rudimentary channels."
He glanced again at her training garb, her style of movement, and the old man who had fallen silent upon his arrival.
"So… this is what they call 'internal energy'?"
Having grown up in Huaguo, Chen Fan had watched countless martial arts dramas in his youth. He'd heard all about martial arts and internal power. But as he matured, he'd come to understand that such things were mostly fiction.
Still, once he stepped onto the path of cultivation, he occasionally pondered: could martial artists and their 'internal energy' be a diluted form of real cultivation?
Even now, as only a newly initiated Foundation Establishment cultivator, he could crush steel with a single punch, kick down ancient trees, leap stories high—all with mere physical strength. His true essence, if released, would place him on par with the greatest masters of any martial arts novel.
But the ponytailed girl's energy—whether you called it internal power or qi—was of an entirely different caliber. Compared to a true cultivator's essence, it was like comparing gasoline to jet fuel.
Martial artists were gasoline—suitable for small cars. Cultivators wielded jet fuel—capable of powering jets, even rockets. Both were fuel, but the difference was worlds apart.
Let alone the fact that cultivators, as their power grew, could command spells, divine abilities, magical artifacts—even bend the elements themselves to their will.
Understanding this, Chen Fan could now clearly see the vast chasm between the girl and a true cultivator.
Relaxed, he glanced once more at her technique—and couldn't help shaking his head.
That small shake did not go unnoticed. The busty, ponytailed martial artist had long since felt uncomfortable with his persistent gaze. Now seeing him shake his head, as if judging her technique to be laughable, she could no longer hold back.
Proud and spirited, she immediately halted her movements, walked straight up to him with a frosty expression, and demanded:
"Why are you shaking your head? Do you even understand what you're watching?"