The Thousand Bamboo Pavilion was a cool, silent place, an anomaly in the heart of the bustling Cloud Peak Academy. The morning air danced thinly between the bamboo stalks. The tranquility was almost too perfect. Here, Jìng Míng sat upright on a jade meditation mat.
The jade stone was frost-bitten and piercing, radiating a stable Qi resonance. It was a measurable pattern of energy—pure, stable, and devoid of emotional ripple. Jìng Míng inhaled deeply; the frigid scent of young bamboo stung his lungs—a measurable trace of aroma, not beauty. Yet, behind that perfect calm, a foreign pulse always waited for a gap, tethered to his spiritual core—a threat only he perceived.
He had adopted this way of life since a very young age, a Blood Choice that now served as his sole life principle: Absolute Logic. To him, Emotion is Qi Leakage — a flaw to be purged. It was an inefficient failure in the spiritual Core Formation that slowly eroded the Dao Heart of any cultivator. Jìng Míng viewed his exile not as punishment, but as the unburdening of an asset from a system laden with Fate Obstacles (Mìng Zǔ).
He sat, motionless, for one full breath. In that split second, he had recalculated the Qi Flux of the Guardian Formation and predicted its potential wear and tear.
"Protecting the spiritual core is the highest priority," Jìng Míng murmured. "Therefore, the Dao Axiom—the unshakable rational principle—is the only solution."
The pavilion door creaked softly. Master Tiān Wú entered. His face showed a painful inner tension.
Master Tiān Wú rubbed his sparse beard—a restless habit that only emerged when he saw Jìng Míng. "Jìng Míng... (A sigh, a pause). The coldness in your heart will attract danger. I see a wounded heart, not a fortress. I beg you. Your heart is not a weapon."
Jìng Míng opened his eyes. "You see weakness, Master Tiān Wú. I see adaptive superiority," he countered.
"I know the origin of that coldness." His fingers froze, trembling slightly, before falling limply to his sides. "I know about the Tiān Yì Clan," Tiān Wú continued, his voice softer now. "Perfection without warmth is loneliness. Loneliness is a gap. Your heart is not a zero variable."
"Loneliness is a zero variable. It generates no leakage. It is stable," Jìng Míng concluded. "Emotion is Qi Leakage; a defect to be eliminated. The Dao Axiom is the only solution."
Tiān Wú ceased the debate. "Be careful, Jìng Míng. I sense a foreign ripple in the Academy's Formation. A cold, hidden ripple, like a spy. You have already made enemies of the Bīng Lǜ Fǎ Tíng Clan. That is only the beginning." His footsteps upon leaving the pavilion sounded heavy and gravelly, a non-logical sound of unspoken sorrow.
After Tiān Wú left, silence returned. Jìng Míng reached for the porcelain tea cup beside his mat. It was cold. A fracture in the mirror of logic — then Memory surged: A tiny fracture threatening to tear apart the entire Rational Principle he had kept sealed for years.
The Blood Choice must be made again.
He closed his eyes, allowing his unyielding Logic to filter the involuntary fragments.
The sharp scent of dried blood and scorched earth surged. The thunder of his Father's sword, Xuè Fēng, striking the Tiān Yì Clan's ritual structure sounded like a cosmic wail.
He saw a glimpse of his Mother's face, Lán Yù, distorted by despair—as she realized the failure of the Tiān Yì Clan's Seal Formation that should have protected them.
Then his Father. His broken back. He turned, his gaze a final, absolute, and terminal command.
"Live… Jìng Míng. Control it. Never feel again. Seal that Qi of Chaos (Qi Yīn Wō) with your Absolute Logic. If it is released, the world will fall. Promise!"
A primal force, cold and cruel, flowed into Jìng Míng's spiritual Core. It was the Qi of Chaos (Qi Yīn Wō).
Jìng Míng's heart pounded rapidly, his only physical betrayal. The Qi Yīn Wō in his veins surged, causing a sharp pain like a backlash from the past. The cold residue of the memory still clung to his skin when Logic forced its takeover. Jìng Míng suppressed the fragment; a short tremor escaped his fingers before his will locked the memory into a silent, doorless labyrinth.
Logic won. The heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm: 60 beats per minute. The chaos in his blood, the Qi Yīn Wō, could only be maintained by Absolute Logic. Outside the pavilion, cold, analytical Qi ripples watched him—spies of the Tiān Yì Clan. The confrontation he had spent his life avoiding, had just begun.
Jìng Míng ended his cold meditation. The air around him felt as thin as glass, reflecting sharp and inevitable Logic. He reached for the Tactical Silver Scroll (Yín Cè Juǎn), a Level 4 Ice-Freezing Qi Node.
"If Law is Immortal, it must be perfect. If broken, it is merely a bug to be fixed," ran his basic principle.
He activated the Clear Mirror Technique (Míng Jìng Shù). The scroll instantly transformed into a Spiritual Manifestation Web (Qì Wǎng)—a three-dimensional visualization.
Right in the center of the Manifestation Web, Jìng Míng found the anomaly he was looking for: the Barrier Node (Zǔ Sài Jié). This Node was a ritualistic rune that caused a one-fifth time delay in manifestation because it demanded Spiritual Honor. To Jìng Míng, demanding respect from energy was an illogical waste.
Jìng Míng drew his Formation pen. The pen tip made a sharp scratching sound on the scroll, splitting the energy diagram with frightening surgical precision. He worked quickly, removing the Barrier Node.
The moment he focused his Absolute Ratio onto the Formation, the Yīn Wō thrashed in his veins. Jìng Míng contained the burst, weaving the chaos into a measurable impulse—two precise strokes created a Hidden Qi Path (Qì Yīn Dào).
Alignment Result: The Level 4 Ice-Freezing Formation now operates without delay. The one-fifth second saving is the Margin of Life—the difference separating carrion from victory on the battlefield.
Jìng Míng put away his Formation pen. Calculation showed: Conflict will commence within 4.7 hours. He only needed to wait for Bīng Jīng's arrival.
Far on the sunlit side of the Academy, in the Flower Spring Pavilion, Mèi Lì sat on the edge of a pond. Suddenly, she sensed a sharp, cold Qi pulse—a perfect anomaly that disturbed the natural Qi balance of the Academy. It was not just power; it was a terrifying precision, like a sword forged by pure Calculation.
As someone who had studied Qi patterns since childhood, Mèi Lì was able to recognize the anomaly before anyone else. She looked up, her sharp eyes, like a hidden blade, focused on the dark Thousand Bamboo Pavilion. It was the most intriguing—and the most dangerous—presence she had ever sensed. Unconsciously, Mèi Lì felt her heart flutter slightly—a reaction no simple Qi ripple had ever stirred in her. That cold vortex had captured her attention, and Mèi Lì knew, she would not be able to ignore it.