After a month under Yan Rui's relentless guidance, the youngsters began to sense the stirrings of power within themselves. Their blood energy pulsed and fluctuated, responding to each movement, each breath, each exertion, but it was as if an invisible barrier lay between them and the next stage of their growth. No matter how rigorously they trained, no matter how precise their stance or how controlled their breathing, the full release of their potential seemed just out of reach. Fatigue pressed down on their bodies, yet it was not the body alone that restrained them—the barrier was subtle, spiritual, and deeply internal.
Confused and frustrated, the children approached the elders for guidance. The elders listened carefully, then spoke in calm, measured tones.
"It is not that your training lacks effect," one elder said, "nor that your effort is wasted. Every drop of sweat, every strain of muscle, every moment of focus has strengthened you. But there is something missing, something that no one else can give you."
The children's eyes widened. Some had hoped for a potion, a secret technique, or an external tool that could break the wall for them. The elders shook their heads.
"No elixir, no artifact, no shortcut can replace what you must discover within yourselves. If you wish to reach the Foundation Establishment Stage, you must feel it, sense it, and unlock it on your own. Only through your own observation, understanding, and insight will the path open. No one else can guide you past this point."
A hush fell over the group. The weight of the words pressed on their spirits, yet within it lay a strange spark of clarity.
"There is another way," the elder continued. "A method to reach the stage more quickly, bypassing some of the effort. But it carries limitations. Such a shortcut may give temporary advancement, but your growth will be constrained in the future. True mastery, true Foundation, is earned, not borrowed. It comes through self-reliance, discipline, and harmony of body, mind, and spirit."
Yan Rui stood at the edge of the plateau, silent yet vigilant. Her calm presence radiated reassurance, even as her gaze reminded the youngsters that the responsibility lay entirely on their own shoulders. No advice, no demonstration, and no guidance could substitute for the moment when each of them would feel the missing link within themselves.
The children returned to their training with renewed determination, their minds heavier yet sharper. Every lift of a tank, every squat and lunge, every step on uneven stone, became more than an exercise—it was a test, a clue, a bridge to understanding the invisible barrier. Streams, rocks, and weighted climbs were no longer just physical challenges; they became exercises in listening to their energy, synchronizing breath with movement, and sensing the pulse of their blood and will.
Each day carried a new focus: to observe where the energy faltered, to correct subtle misalignments, to push past internal resistance with patience rather than brute force. The children began to notice patterns—the rhythm of their heartbeat, the flow of energy through muscles, the way their minds faltered before their bodies. Slowly, they realized that the barrier was not a punishment but a teacher, guiding them to discover their own limitations and transcend them through self-awareness.
It was a lesson both humbling and liberating: the path to Foundation Establishment lay entirely within themselves, not in the hands of others. Every misstep, every moment of hesitation, every repetition became part of the puzzle they must solve alone. And only when body, mind, and spirit aligned, when energy flowed in harmony with will, would the invisible wall dissolve, opening the door to the next stage of power.
Under Yan Rui's watchful eyes, the youngsters trained with a new depth of purpose. Each drop of sweat, each aching muscle, each measured breath carried them closer to the unseen threshold. They could not yet cross it, but they were learning to feel it, to sense its resistance, and to search for the key within themselves.
And so the plateau hummed with energy—steady, disciplined, and alive—not just with the motions of physical labor, but with the quiet pulse of awakening potential. The invisible barrier remained, but it no longer intimidated them. Instead, it became the focus of their relentless effort, the challenge that would forge their true mastery of body, mind, and spirit, and the first step toward the Foundation Establishment Stage.
Time in the Hidden Land flowed relentlessly, like horse after horse racing across the plateau, day after day, unceasing and unstoppable. Dawn followed night, and night followed day, the rhythm of time intertwining with the rhythm of the children's training. Yet despite the tireless effort, no one—no one except Yan Rui—had achieved a true breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment level. The others remained stuck in the lower thresholds, their potential blocked by the invisible barriers they had yet to understand.
Progress for them could not be rushed. Every movement, every lift, every breath became a step-by-step journey, a painstaking accumulation of strength, discipline, and awareness. Even after two and a half years of relentless training, their bodies and minds had grown far stronger, yet the door to true Foundation remained closed. The plateau echoed with the sounds of their labor—water splashing into cisterns, heavy footsteps across uneven stone, and the collective rhythm of focused effort—but the path forward still demanded patience, perseverance, and insight that could not be granted by external means.
Yan Rui, however, moved along the path with uncommon clarity and determination. Though she had once stood at the first level of Foundation Establishment, her persistence under the guidance of the elders had carried her beyond that initial threshold. Her techniques had become sharper, her energy flows more refined, and her understanding of body, mind, and spirit deeper with each passing season. Slowly but surely, she advanced through the ranks, reaching the third level of Foundation Establishment, a level at which her control over her blood energy, breathing, and internal power far surpassed that of the younger students.
Even as she guided her students and oversaw their drills, Yan Rui herself continued to train under the elders, refining the subtleties of her technique and seeking to push further into higher stages of Foundation mastery. Each day, she balanced leadership with self-discipline, demonstrating that mastery was not merely a destination, but a continuous process of refinement, struggle, and internal discovery.
The contrast between her steady progression and the slower pace of the others underscored a truth that the plateau seemed to whisper with every gust of wind and every ripple of the training stream: true mastery could only be earned, step by step, through relentless practice, patience, and the willingness to face one's own limits. And while the others remained in the shadows of their first breakthroughs, Yan Rui shone as both a beacon and a reminder of the potential that lay ahead for those willing to endure.
As time passed, the endless cycle of dawn and dusk, drills and meditation, began to awaken more than just muscle and endurance in the youngsters. Slowly, in the quiet moments between exercises, a curiosity stirred within them—questions about the very essence of the power they sought to master.
"What is blood?" one of them whispered to a friend as they sat cross-legged by the stream, feeling the cold water flow around their ankles. "Why does it feel… different when I train? Why does it pulse like it wants to move, but I can't make it flow properly?"
These questions were no longer merely idle thoughts—they were seeds of understanding. Day after day, they began to notice the subtle rhythms within their bodies: the thrum of their heartbeat, the warmth spreading through their limbs as energy circulated, the tightening and loosening of muscles in response to their will. Slowly, they realized that blood was more than just life—it was energy, rhythm, and connection between mind and body.
Another student mused during a silent meditation under the waterfall. "If blood carries energy, what guides it? Why does it stop moving sometimes, even when I push my body? Is it my mind? My will?"
These moments of introspection became a form of training itself. They began to experiment, observing the subtle ways posture, breath, and focus influenced their energy. Hands trembling, they would stretch, rotate, and flex in precise motions, attempting to feel the invisible currents within themselves. Every step of the Tank Drill, every lunge and squat, became more than physical labor—it became an inquiry into the flow of their own vitality.
"What is the base of blood?" one child asked aloud one evening, staring at the stars reflected in the rippling water. "Where does its strength come from? How is it tied to my body and my will?"
Yan Rui, watching quietly from a distance, did not answer. She had learned that understanding could not be given; it could only be felt, realized, and discovered through personal effort. The youngsters' questioning was a vital step—a necessary precursor to the true awakening of their potential.
Slowly, their focus shifted from performing the drills correctly to understanding the essence of what they were cultivating. Breath became a guide, not just a rhythm. Steps were measured not only for endurance but to feel how energy moved through every sinew. Every ache and strain prompted reflection: was this pain just physical, or was it a signal from their blood energy, a message of imbalance or stagnation?
"What is true Foundation?" a quiet voice finally asked during a meditation session. The question hung in the air like mist, neither urgent nor demanding, but profound. Others murmured in agreement, each contemplating the same mystery. "If blood carries energy, and energy flows through mind and body, then is Foundation the harmony of all three? Or is it something beyond what I can yet feel?"
For the first time, the youngsters realized that training was not just repetition or endurance. It was study, observation, and inquiry. It was learning to listen to the subtle rhythms of the body, to feel the pulse of blood energy, to observe the feedback of mind and spirit as they moved. Each drill, each exercise, each step became an experiment in self-awareness, a dialogue between their internal energy and the physical world.
Over weeks and months, these questions did not have immediate answers—but they were slowly etching understanding into the children's consciousness. Every drop of sweat, every blistered hand, every tremor of exhausted legs became a reflection of their inner currents. The plateau no longer felt like a place of mere labor—it became a laboratory of self-discovery, where each trial, each movement, and each breath prompted a new question, a new insight, a new step closer to truly comprehending their blood and the essence of Foundation.
The morning sun had just begun to touch the edges of the plateau, casting long shadows across the training ground. Mist lingered in the low hollows, and a crisp wind carried the scent of dew-soaked earth. The youngsters had gathered in groups for their morning meditation, bodies folded, eyes closed, breaths synchronized, energy circulating quietly through each form. Silence hung over the field like a living thing, broken only by the soft murmur of the wind and the distant flow of a stream.
At the center of one group sat YuoTu, the boy in the flowing blue robe. He had lowered himself into a deep meditative stance, palms resting lightly on his knees, breath even and measured. Energy seemed to gather around him, subtle at first, barely noticeable, like a ripple on a still pond. The others in his group were in their meditative stages, focusing on their own energy, yet gradually sensing a change.
Without warning, a strange pressure radiated outward from YuoTu—an invisible, almost tangible force that seemed to press against every nerve and sinew of the surrounding youngsters. It was not heat or wind, but something heavier, more insistent, as if the air itself had thickened with power. The energy seemed invincible, enveloping the group like a sphere, vibrating faintly with a rhythm that resonated with the pulse of blood and spirit.
The youngsters stirred. Some opened their eyes, blinking against the sudden awareness, while others felt a tremor of instinctive caution ripple through their limbs. Muscles tightened, hearts raced, and every one of them sensed the force as a boundary not to be crossed lightly. The meditative calm shattered in an instant.
"Step back! Step back!" someone muttered, but it was unnecessary—the instinct was immediate. Each child moved with precision, creating distance between themselves and the center where the blue-robed YuoTu remained seated, untouched yet commanding the surrounding aura. The invisible force seemed to push, not violently, but imperiously, demanding respect and space.
As the group adjusted their positions, another sensation caught their attention. To the left, right, front, and back of the plateau, four more disturbances erupted simultaneously, each centered on a different practitioner in their meditative stance. Energy radiated outward, forming invisible spheres that stretched and pressed against the air around them, creating a lattice of unseen power across the training field.
The youngsters' eyes widened, and a low murmur ran through the gathered groups. Every instinct told them to keep their distance, yet fascination and awe drew their attention to the source of the power. They felt the air vibrate, the ground beneath their feet hum, and the weight of something far beyond their own strength pressing on the edges of their consciousness.
Yan Rui, standing at the edge of the training ground, observed carefully, her calm figure unshaken by the waves of energy. She noted the reactions of each child, the way instinct had driven them to safety, and the subtle adjustments they made in response to the invisible force. Her eyes flicked from YuoTu to the other four meditative centers, silently analyzing the situation.
At the far left, Xiao Feng sat with eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. The invisible force pressed against him, testing his focus. He clenched his fists slightly, feeling the surge of blood-energy pulse through his arms and shoulders. Sweat beaded at his hairline, yet he did not flinch. Slowly, under the subtle pressure, the energy began to settle into rhythm, his breathing aligning with the flow of Qi coursing through his body. A faint red haze began to form around him, shimmering like molten embers, hinting at the first steps toward breakthrough.
To the right, Chen Mei adjusted her seated posture, fingers brushing lightly against the ground. Her energy fluctuated violently, the force buffeting her like waves against a rock. Yet her face remained calm, brows furrowed only slightly as she guided the flow within, breathing with deliberate intent. Gradually, the turbulence of her blood-energy softened, and a thin crimson glow wove around her, the first visible sign that her body was beginning to respond to the invisible barrier.
In front, Xiao Bia held herself perfectly upright, legs crossed, palms resting lightly on her knees. The pressure of the energy sphere pressed against her senses, trying to push her off balance, but she let it flow through her rather than resist. Her pulse quickened, then slowed, and the rhythm of her blood-Qi began to synchronize with the unseen force surrounding her. A flicker of warmth radiated from her chest outward, forming a subtle, swirling red mist around her frame.
At the back, Ling Yue sat with her eyes softly closed, exuding a serene focus that belied the strain of the invisible energy pressing at her limits. Her chest rose steadily as she inhaled, held, and exhaled with precise timing. Her blood-energy surged sharply, then retreated, finding its balance under her careful guidance. Slowly, the crimson aura began to bloom around her, faint at first, then thickening as she maintained harmony between body, mind, and blood-Qi.
And at the center, YuoTu remained the calmest of all, his blue robe shifting lightly in the breeze. The invisible force seemed to revolve around him, testing his instinct and stability. With each breath, he guided the surging energy through his channels, adjusting the flow with subtle, almost imperceptible movements. His aura expanded gradually, a steady crimson glow enveloping him, as though his body itself were becoming the core of a living river of energy.
Yan Rui's eyes softened slightly as she watched. Each child was facing the barrier on their own, forced to feel the limits of their blood-energy, to control and harmonize it through sheer will and focus. She noted the differences: Xiao Feng's brute persistence, Chen Mei's controlled resilience, Xiao Bia's disciplined posture, Ling Yue's serene adaptability, and YuoTu's innate harmony.
The plateau trembled faintly under the collective energy, a rhythm synchronized with the heartbeat of five determined youths. As the crimson mist thickened around each of them, the invisible force that had held them back for so long began to ripple—reacting, yielding slightly, as if acknowledging their effort.
For the first time, it became clear: they were on the verge of breaking through. The aura around each began to pulse in sync with their will, no longer chaotic or scattered. Blood-Qi, breath, and focus merged into a singular rhythm, and the once-imperceptible barrier started to shimmer, faint cracks appearing like light through ice.
Yan Rui's expression remained calm, but inside, her mind raced with observation and calculation. She could sense the threshold trembling, ready to yield to those who had endured, those who had felt their energy, questioned themselves, and learned to harmonize with it.
Yan Rui's expression remained calm, serene as ever, yet a quiet tension hummed in the air. The four elders—Tong Chen, Yan Zhi Lan, Xiao Ling, and Liang Shan—stepped forward, their robes brushing lightly against the stone, moving toward her without a word. The younger disciples, sensing the shift in energy, also gathered silently around the edge of the training ground, instinctively giving space while their eyes stayed fixed on the center.
All at once, the environment seemed to respond to the energy emanating from the five meditating youths: YuoTu, Xiao Feng, Chen Mei, Xiao Bia, and Ling Yue. The air grew dense, humming faintly with a frequency that resonated in the bones and blood of those observing. Even the morning wind stilled, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine in slower, heavier currents.
At the center of the plateau, the five disciples remained motionless, eyes closed, hands lightly resting on knees. But from their bodies, a thin, red mist began to seep out, curling and twisting like smoke from a distant fire. At first, it was faint—soft wisps that drifted lazily—but with each heartbeat, the mist grew thicker, rising upward and intertwining above their heads. Tiny droplets, glowing faintly like embers, floated within the vapor, as though each one carried a spark of life and energy.
The red mist swirled together above the five, gathering momentum, and began to coalesce at a single point in the sky directly above the center of the training ground. As it rose, the light of the sun dimmed slightly, filtered through the growing cloud of energy. The entire plateau seemed to hold its breath, the mountains surrounding them quiet as if the world itself watched the unfolding spectacle.
Then, a subtle shift occurred. The mist darkened, taking on a deep, black-red hue, dense like molten smoke, thickening until it formed a swirling canopy over the training ground. The crimson fog twisted and roiled above them, a living storm infused with the collective Qi of the five. Tiny flickers of light—like sparks of crimson lightning—crackled intermittently within the cloud, illuminating the faces of the elders and the gathered students below.
Above each of the five meditators, the cloud seemed to converge into five distinct pockets, hovering directly over their heads. Within each pocket, small bursts of miniature thunder began to form—sharp, crackling arcs of light that leapt and arced subtly, like the storm itself was testing the limits of their blood-energy and will. The flashes were small yet concentrated, forming five precise points of potential energy that aligned perfectly with each youth.
The ground beneath them vibrated faintly, a low hum that resonated through their feet and into their bones, echoing the rising storm above. The temperature shifted, rising slightly, carrying the scent of ozone and iron, the metallic tang of raw Qi vibrating through the air. Even the edges of the plateau seemed to shimmer under the influence of the swirling mist, as though the very reality around them bent subtly under the pressure of the five surging energies.
Despite the chaos of energy above, the five remained still, locked in meditative focus, their breathing slow and controlled. Each pulse of their blood-energy was synchronized with the surges of mist, feeding into the rising storm, yet never losing its internal rhythm. The black-red clouds twisted with anticipation, the mini-thunder sparks leaping higher, as if ready to strike in the next instant—a test of their harmony, willpower, and the stability of their blood-energy.
Yan Rui's calm figure remained at the edge, her eyes observing every detail. The elders flanked her, silently acknowledging the magnitude of the moment. The younger disciples, frozen in awe, could only watch as the five youths became the center of a living storm, the culmination of months of training, discipline, and self-discovery.
Yan Rui's calm figure remained at the edge, her eyes observing every detail. The elders flanked her, silently acknowledging the magnitude of the moment. The younger disciples, frozen in awe, could only watch as the five youths became the center of a living storm, the culmination of months of training, discipline, and self-discovery.
Each of the five meditating figures—YuoTu, Xiao Feng, Chen Mei, Xiao Bia, and Ling Yue—sat perfectly still, yet beneath the surface, their bodies and minds were testing every lesson learned over countless months. Every tank lifted, every weighted climb, every balancing exercise, every silent meditation they had endured now manifested as threads of energy interweaving with their blood-Qi. Each past struggle, each drop of sweat, each adjustment taught by Yan Rui and the elders was being measured and weighed in the invisible crucible of their bodies.
The storm above them pulsed in rhythm with their hearts. The red-and-black mist thickened, swirling faster, drawing upward, twisting into whorls that seemed alive, almost sentient. The mini-thunders above each head sparked intermittently, as if testing whether their focus was steady, whether their energy could withstand pressure without chaos. Every flicker of lightning, every vibration of the mist, was like a mirror held up to their training—if they faltered, even slightly, the storm would push back, forcing recalibration.
Xiao Feng's body shivered with the strain, sweat running down his temples. His blood-Qi surged violently, threatening to overwhelm him, but he remembered Yan Rui's lessons: balance the flow, let the energy follow the rhythm of your body, do not resist, do not force. Slowly, the violent surges tamed, folding into a steady pulse, harmonizing with the mist around him. Tiny sparks of crimson lightning paused above his head, acknowledging his mastery of control.
Chen Mei, at the far right, felt her inner energy twist and coil. Past failures flashed in her mind—spilled water from the tank drills, fumbling balance over rocks, faltering in long meditation—but she drew upon every correction offered by the elders, every micro-adjustment of posture, every breath synchronized with her Qi. The red mist curling from her body thickened, forming a faint cocoon that pulsed in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat. The mini-thunder above her head snapped sharply, then softened, as if bowing to her precision and patience.
At the front, Xiao Bia's calm, disciplined focus became her anchor. Every circulation of blood-Qi through her meridians reflected months of meditation under Yan Rui's watchful eye. She felt the pressure of the invisible storm testing her stability, threatening to knock her rhythm off, yet she allowed her energy to fold inward and expand outward simultaneously, guiding it through every channel, every muscle. The crimson aura above her head swirled in tandem with her controlled pulses, like a dance of power refined through discipline.
Ling Yue, at the back, exhaled slowly, letting her breath synchronize with the trembling mist. Her training in water flow exercises, balancing on slippery rocks, and enduring tremor simulations came alive now. Every drop of sweat, every aching limb, every failure that once frustrated her was now woven into a precise control of her blood-Qi. The mini-thunder above her head arced sharply once, twice, then stilled, acknowledging that her body, mind, and blood-energy were finally one.
At the center, YuoTu exuded quiet harmony. His energy flowed like a river, each circulation of blood-Qi more refined, more intense, yet never chaotic. His previous struggles in endurance, control, and balance had forged a rhythm that the storm above could not disturb. The mist coiled around him, glowing faintly red, the mini-thunder above his head lingering, waiting for his final, decisive alignment.