Spring passed, autumn arrived.
Ning Qi was nearly one year old.
Yet nourished by Innate Qi and supported by peerless medical techniques, his body had developed far beyond that of an ordinary infant. His physique was already comparable to that of a three-year-old child.
Over this period, Ning Qi refined the Congenital Bone Tempering Technique multiple times.
At last, he reached a conclusion.
There was no more room for improvement—at least not at his current stage.
This method had reached its present limit.
At this pace, he estimated that his foundation would be fully formed by the age of three.
This speed far exceeded Dragon Mountain Daoist's earlier expectations.
One must never underestimate the value of time.
Training at three versus six years old was not merely a matter of starting earlier—it was a qualitative difference. The younger the foundation was laid, the more profound and stable it became. The difficulty gap could be several times over.
Every day, Ning Qi applied medicinal ointments while cultivating his techniques.
His foundation solidified steadily.
At the same time, his physical growth accelerated.
A body that was too young was always restrictive. Ning Qi hoped to mature faster.
Since he could not yet truly practice martial arts, he wasted no time. Every day, he immersed himself in ancient texts—regardless of discipline—using them to expand his inner wisdom.
Though he possessed full-level comprehension, creation never arose from nothing.
Take medical arts, for example.
Even without referencing the works of predecessors, Ning Qi could still experiment, classify, and summarize endlessly, opening new paths and reaching unprecedented heights. But the time cost would increase exponentially.
Standing upon the shoulders of those before him was simply more efficient.
While others lacked his comprehension, the accumulated wisdom of countless generations was not to be underestimated. Many flashes of brilliance within those texts were astonishing.
The same held true across all domains.
Though Ning Qi had yet to formally enter martial cultivation, he was already preparing.
Learning from people.
From books.
From heaven and earth.
From nature itself.
Assimilating the strengths of a hundred schools to forge a new path.
This was the true way to wield full-level comprehension.
The True Martial Sect housed vast collections of ancient texts—enough to occupy him for years. Often, rereading a text revealed new layers of insight. Daoist classics, in particular, contained profound principles that greatly nourished his understanding.
These were treasures waiting for the right key.
"If I can read all the ancient texts of Great Yan one day," Ning Qi thought,
"my accumulated wisdom may reach an unprecedented height."
"To gather the ingenious thoughts of all living beings…"
His heart stirred.
"Perhaps the path to eternal life lies there."
The thought alone filled him with longing.
Eternal life—he had never forgotten his ultimate goal.
During this time, his senior brothers and sisters often descended the mountain for training. When they returned, they brought him trinkets and stories from the outside world.
As Ning Qi revealed more of his unusual qualities, they subconsciously stopped treating him like an infant.
This, combined with the records he studied, gave him a deeper understanding of the world.
"The Great Yan Realm spans thirteen provinces," Ning Qi murmured while reading.
"Qing Province alone is larger than the entire landmass of my previous world."
"There are countless martial sects, but all are ultimately subordinate to imperial authority."
"For instance, when Master rebuilt the True Martial Sect, he not only won the sect foundation through a wager with the Shenjian Mountain Lord, but also required endorsement from the Qing Province Governor."
He flipped another page, eyes widening.
"But the most astonishing thing…"
"The Great Yan Dynasty has existed for two thousand years."
That single dynasty spanned nearly half the recorded history of his previous life.
"This must be related to the longevity of martial cultivators."
A Heavenly Human Realm expert could live eight hundred years. With special means, over a thousand.
As for a Martial Saint—
It was said such beings could live several thousand years.
"The establishment of a dynasty is often tied to a Martial Saint."
"A Martial Saint is invincible beneath heaven. Even a Heavenly Human at perfection cannot contend."
"The Great Yan Dynasty was founded by the Great Yan Martial Saint himself."
Ning Qi paused, then murmured softly:
"The dynasty has lasted two thousand years… is the Great Yan Martial Saint still alive?"
Martial Saints were exceedingly rare—some eras had only one. Like a divine dragon, its head never revealed.
A clear voice answered from afar:
"He must be alive. Otherwise, the world would have fallen into chaos long ago."
Ning Qi turned.
A figure approached swiftly, landing before him in a few steps.
Loose blue Daoist robes fluttered, unable to conceal her slender figure. Her almond eyes curved with laughter.
Ye Qinghe.
She reached out and kneaded Ning Qi's soft cheek, then pulled him into a hug so tight he nearly ran out of breath.
"Little Ninth, did you miss Third Senior Sister?"
Ning Qi struggled free, frowning.
"Senior Sister… you've been drinking again."
The scent of strong alcohol was unmistakable.
Ye Qinghe laughed, producing a wine gourd and taking a hearty swig. The liquor traced a line down her fair neck.
"Wine is a treasure of the world. A woman who doesn't drink isn't a proper woman."
She pulled out a small cup.
"Want a taste?"
Ning Qi's face darkened.
A one-year-old drinking wine?
Unbelievable.
"If you drink," she coaxed, "I'll tell you a secret about Great Yan."
Ning Qi sighed and took a small sip. The wine did nothing to him—Ye Qinghe always drank high-grade spirits—but he had little interest.
She laughed delightedly.
"Little Ninth understands me. Unlike Qin Yun and the rest—no fun at all."
Ning Qi rolled his eyes.
Ye Qinghe snatched the Great Yan Records from his hands.
"There's too much official nonsense here," she said. "It's true Great Yan is the longest-lasting dynasty, but it's not been peaceful."
Ning Qi's interest sharpened.
"They couldn't overthrow it?"
She shook her head.
"Each time chaos peaked, a Martial Saint appeared to suppress it."
"The Great Yan Martial Saint is truly still alive?" Ning Qi asked.
She drank again.
"Not necessarily."
"Legend says Martial Saints can break through the world and ascend. Every Martial Saint of past eras eventually vanished."
"That's why previous dynasties lasted only centuries."
"But Great Yan is different."
She frowned at the empty gourd.
"Some say the Great Yan Martial Saint refused ascension, using a secret method to evade the world's suppression. He can't act freely—only when the dynasty is in peril."
"Others claim he ascended long ago, but left behind a supreme technique allowing the imperial family to continuously produce Martial Saints."
"So Great Yan always has one."
"No one knows if it's the original."
Ning Qi fell silent.
The secrets of Great Yan ran deeper than he had imagined.