Kaelan sits motionless in the dim cultivation chamber, rain tapping softly against the distant stone—yet behind him, twelve streams of medicinal qi rotate like luminous wheels.
Skin Qi.
Muscle Qi.
Vein Qi.
Bone Qi.
Blood Qi.
Liver Qi.
Kidney Qi.
Lung Qi.
Spleen Qi.
Heart Qi.
Nerve Qi.
Spirit Qi.
Each strand refined through countless medicinal brews—each one a step toward the body perfection Chen Luzai had only theorised, but never reached.
He has already completed the hypothesis in theory.
Now comes the practice.
Kaelan closes his eyes, mind turning through countless deductions, and the question presses sharply:
How should twelve become one?
Minutes pass—then clarity sparks.
They refine the human body. So, they must form a human body.
He raises his hand, and the revolving qi slows.
Bone Qi enters the centre—dense, white, weighty—and fed with mana, it expands, shaping into a perfect skeletal form suspended in the air before him.
Then—Vein Qi threads through the bones like living rivers.
Muscle Qi follows, layering tightly over bone and blood channels.
Skin Qi wraps around the muscle—smooth, clear, unmarred.
Blood Qi fills every channel.
Heart Qi forms a beating heart—slow, powerful, steady.
Liver, kidney, lung, and spleen qi move next, becoming organs of pure qi—balanced and flawless.
Nerve Qi descends last—threading like fine lightning through every point—connecting bone, flesh, organ, and skin into unified control.
Finally—Spirit Qi flows in, settling into the skull, forming an unseen consciousness that anchors the entire construct.
Before him now hangs a perfect human form.
Not flesh.
Not energy.
Something between both.
Kaelan guides it toward himself, and the qi-body melts upon contact—dispersing into countless filaments that seep into every cell.
A burning, cleansing storm surges inside him.
Bones strengthen.
Organs refine.
Blood becomes purer.
Muscles densify yet grow lighter.
His cells restructure toward flawlessness—toward the perfection the technique promised.
Kaelan breathes out—slow, deep—feeling the transformation settle.
A thought rises.
A perfect opportunity.
If my human form is being refined… then the true form should evolve as well.
He stands, lightning flickering across his skin—feathers pushing through the surface of flesh.
Dark aura swirls.
Wings spread.
His body reshapes—not violently, but smoothly, naturally—as if this change were always meant to be.
In moments, the cultivation chamber is filled by the shadow of a great crow—feathers darker than night, veins glowing faintly with twelve-colored qi, eyes burning with calm intelligence.
This time, the transformation feels different.
Not a disguise.
Not forced.
A true evolution.
He lowers his wings and gazes at his reflection in the shallow rainwater—silent, composed, unhurried.
Slowly, feathers withdraw, and bones shift. Muscles rearrange. His form begins to change—no longer fully crow, no longer fully human.
Crow talons replace his feet—sharp, black, cold.
His torso returns to human shape, broad-shouldered and refined, yet faintly scaled, with dark, iridescent feather patterns embedded beneath the skin.
His head remains human, but his eyes retain the sharp golden slit of a predator.
Wings fold behind his back—silent, shadow-like, able to vanish or manifest at will.
His hands stay human, yet faint electricity hums beneath the skin—black lightning ready to awaken at a thought.
A perfect balance.
A half-crow, half-human form—without flaw.
Kaelan raises one clawed hand and, with practised calm, begins inscribing a magic power into his own blood. The runes—storm, death, transformation, spirit, and body—sink beneath the skin like glowing embers before fading from sight.
The Transformation Magic Power becomes part of him.
Not a spell.
Not a technique.
A bloodline trait.
Kaelan closes his eyes and senses his body—inside, outside, marrow to skin.
All wounds are gone.
No pain.
No remnants of battle.
His breathing deepens—not relief, but satisfaction.
I have finally solved the greatest flaw.
For years, he lived as a crow demon wearing human skin.
A secret identity that threatened everything. If revealed, his identity as Kong Wuya would collapse. Through fear or rejection, the wizard way would be blocked—unable to spread among humans.
But now?
Now he is something else.
Not a demon.
Not human.
A hybrid—half-blood, yet perfected.
Hybrids may face prejudice, but only the weak suffer discrimination.
And he is not weak.
If his nature is exposed now, the world will not reject him—they will submit.
Content with the solution to a problem that has shadowed him since the day he arrived in this world, Kaelan leaves the cultivation chamber in a rare, pleasant mood.
Dawn light washes over the palace.
He spends the entire day with Li Xueyao—walking gardens, sharing meals, listening to her plans for the coronation and the future Tang Kingdom. For once, with no urgency pressing his mind, he allows himself to simply exist beside her.
Night returns.
Kaelan returns to his room, sits quietly, and begins the next task.
Transforming the Medicine Body Refinement Technique into a true wizard meditation technique.
The original martial method perfects the body through medicine.
So the meditation counterpart begins with visualising oneself—the body, qi channels, organs, spirit, and energy flow—until the visualisation becomes real, guiding evolution from the inside rather than relying on external elixirs.
Three months pass.
He does not retreat entirely—he supervises the construction of the Wizard Academy, continues refining spiritual instruments, studies clone-based magic, and secures the new balance of the Tang Kingdom.
But each night, progress continues.
Piece by piece, rune by rune, concept by concept—
—until the technique is complete.
And by the third month…
A new official meditation method now exists in this world.
Later that week, Kaelan sits beside Li Xueyao in her study as she works—signing decrees, reviewing reports, and reading petitions. The room is quiet except for the soft sound of brushes and the occasional clink of jade seals.
She is no longer a princess.
She is the *Queen of the Tang Kingdom*.
Yet the crown rests on turbulent foundations.
The rebellions across the kingdom have ceased, but the authority of the royal court extends only through the capital prefecture. Beyond that, the provincial lords still hold their private armies intact. They had not surrendered because of loyalty to the Li family—but because they feared Kaelan and the former Demon Hunting Association.
Without him, they believe they could seize the throne.
Li Xueyao must prove otherwise.
And that will not be achieved in two months—or even a year.
It will take time.
Kaelan watches quietly as she reads another report, her expression tightening. Then, with a sharp motion, she throws a bronze candle holder across the desk.
It hits the floor with a heavy clang.
"They're withholding taxes again," she mutters, anger simmering in every breath. "Sending them in fragments—weekly, monthly—never the full amount."
And the kingdom is bleeding.
A large army was raised to suppress the rebellion.
The capital needs rebuilding.
The treasury is nearly empty.
Hours later, during their midday meal, Kaelan finally speaks.
"You shouldn't rush to seize complete control. Rule slowly. Strategise."
Li Xueyao's eyes narrow. "I still need the army. Without it, they'll think the Li family is weak."
"With me here," Kaelan replies calmly, "none of them will dare rebel openly. War is not what the kingdom needs now. Reconstruction is."
She falls silent, thinking.
After a moment, she exhales and admits softly, "I want to take the army, march to each province, and force submission. End everything quickly."
Kaelan smiles faintly—not mocking, but knowing.
"Who told you the only way to rule… is with soldiers?"
Li Xueyao blinks, unsure.
He continues.
"You can rule through *economics*."
She frowns. "Economics…?" The concept is foreign—no word in this world yet represents it.
Kaelan explains patiently.
"It means shaping power through resources—not force. If you control food, trade routes, and production, then even if they keep troops, they won't be able to resist."
He finishes simply:
"Start by strengthening agriculture—irrigation, granaries, farmland, seasonal planning. Control the food supply, and the kingdom will return to your hand without a single sword drawn."
Li Xueyao stares at him.
The idea is brilliant—but utterly foreign to her. She was born a royal, raised among courtiers and politics, not soil and harvests.
"…How?" she finally asks.
Kaelan pauses.
Even he doesn't fully understand farming beyond basic principles. He only knows enough to see the path—not walk it alone.
"I'm not a farmer," he admits plainly. "So I don't know the details. You'll have to ask those who do."
She blinks.
Kaelan continues:
"Send people to speak with the farmers. Collect their methods. Compare them. Remove the ones that are inefficient, keep the good ones, and improve them."
Li Xueyao's hopeful expression fades a little.
"That… sounds slow."
Kaelan thinks for a moment—then adds:
"I can engineer the crops."
She looks up sharply.
"…What does that mean?"
"I can improve the seeds," he explains, "so they grow more food, resist disease, withstand drought or cold. Better harvests mean stability."
For a heartbeat, she forgets to breathe.
"You can do that?" she whispers.
"Yes."
Her relief breaks into a bright smile. "Thank you. Truly. Without you, I don't know what would have become of me—or the kingdom."
Kaelan doesn't answer immediately. Another thought is forming in his mind.
"Tomorrow," he says slowly, "announce this as an official research project of the Wizard Academy."
Li Xueyao tilts her head. "Why?"
"To raise funds," Kaelan replies. "Soon, nobles and officials will face problems they cannot solve. If the Academy provides solutions—for a fee—it will gain wealth, influence, and purpose."
Because in his vision, the Wizard Way is not merely a fighting path.
It is a *civilisation*.
A profession that can build cities, study the world, and solve problems no sword or cultivation technique ever could.
Li Xueyao lets out a small laugh and rubs her forehead.
"The court has no money," she mutters.
"Not now," Kaelan agrees. "But it will."
She smiles again—small, tired, but hopeful.
They finish their lunch.
Kaelan rises first. "I'm going to check the academy construction."
Li Xueyao stands as well, smoothing her robes. "Then I'll check the capital's rebuilding."
Kaelan nods. "Get ready. I'll accompany you after."
She leaves to change, and for a moment, Kaelan stands alone in the quiet hall—watching sunlight spill across the stone floor.
The world is changing.
And this time, it is changing because of him.