Jin exhaled slowly, letting the morning air clear away the last remnants of distraction. His body was ready: firm, aligned, every muscle vibrating under suppressed tension. The pill's protection still lingered—like a soft, almost imperceptible layer wrapping his organs and bolstering him from within, prepared to cushion the worst of the punishment to come.
He assumed the initial stance of the Jade Dragon Body, allowing Qi to circulate through the main meridians until it gathered within his dantian. A warm pulse answered in the pit of his abdomen.
Then, as if a switch had flipped in his mind, the sequence began: fluid movements, twists, extensions, deep and precise breaths. Each transition was an attempt to mirror the elegance of a dragon gliding through the clouds… even if he still retained traces of human clumsiness.
Finally, the crucial part arrived.
Jin clenched his fist, guiding the Qi to it and compressing it into a dense, forceful sphere—far more stable than a month ago. The inner glow intensified. He raised his arm.
Here we go again… he thought, a hint of nervousness beneath the words.
He struck the first point.
The impact washed through him like a searing wave. The muscle trembled, shuddered… and then absorbed the Qi like parched soil soaking in rain. The pain was brutal, sharp, tearing at times, but he didn't feel the dangerous fragility of last time. There were no signs of internal tearing, no meridians on the brink of collapse; the pill's cushioning held his organs and inner channels in a protective embrace, allowing him to withstand the assault.
He struck the second point.
Then the third.
One after another, each blow made his body resonate like metal on an anvil.
His bones felt denser, harder.
His muscles, bathed in compressed Qi, gained an elastic firmness, as if resistance and flexibility were being tempered simultaneously.
His organs pulsed beneath that scorching Qi, adapting, strengthened—enduring a strain that would have been lethal without protection.
The technique did little for his meridians; those channels remained unchanged. But the rest… the rest was being forged.
Each strike tore a stifled groan from him. Every breath was a battle. Every movement, a declaration that he would not yield nor retreat.
When the cycle finally ended, Jin was left gasping, sweat running down his body as if he had fought an entire war alone. The pain still burned in every fiber, but it was a pain he could bear—a pain that meant progress.
And for the first time since he had begun this technique… he felt something different.
A deep, almost imperceptible tremor, as if his body—his true cultivator's body—responded to this punishment with something more than mere endurance.
Jin let himself fall backward onto the damp grass, completely spent. The blue sky wavered above him as his chest heaved violently, each breath a small stab reminding him of the torment he had inflicted upon his own body.
The dull echo of the last impact still vibrated in his bones.
Gods… it's… too much… he thought, his face twisted by the mixture of exhaustion and pain.
His entire body burned as if hammered from the inside out. Even though the pills had protected him from real damage, the torment hadn't lessened in the slightest; it was as if his muscles were strips of red-hot iron being forced into shape.
With this level of pain… there's no way to practice every day…
He had to move his arm away from his face just to breathe properly. Sweat ran down his temples, mingling with the cold breeze that prickled his skin.
Every three days… that's the most I can endure without losing my mind.
He tried moving a finger, then another, only to feel his tendons protest. Tempering muscles, hardening bones and organs… it sounded so simple when written in a manual. Reality was a very different beast.
And even so… I feel nothing.
Frustration slipped through him like a tired sigh.
Not a single sign of the technique's famed first minor achievement. Not the slightest hint of progress described in the introduction. Nothing. Just pain. Pain and a body slightly more resilient… maybe. Hard to tell.
My Qi cultivation goes well… but for the body… am I mediocre? Or is this technique simply a hell designed for monsters?
He looked at the sky, where a solitary cloud drifted lazily. He wanted to laugh, but only managed a dry exhale.
Whatever it is… if I want to become someone strong, I can't quit.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he heard nothing but his own ragged breathing gradually settling.
The pain was still there. The uncertainty as well.
The sky above him seemed immense, indifferent. And amid that silence, something in him tightened with a sudden thought.
Wei Han… Lian Er… he whispered within his mind, a tired nostalgia he didn't want to admit.
Since the elders had taken them away, he hadn't seen either of them. A full month.
He could imagine something about Wei Han: probably somewhere being… himself, shining unintentionally, tripping over natural talent.
And Lian Er… that little lotus flower… she was surely complaining.
I hope they're okay, he murmured to himself.
He remained there for a few more seconds, staring at the sky, until an involuntary tremor reminded him that lying there wouldn't ease anything.
With a groan worthy of an old man, he gathered his strength and sat up. Every muscle protested. His back burned. His legs felt like cracked stone pillars.
Even so, he took a step. Then another.
The gentle murmur of water guided him toward the lake. When he reached the shore, he released a sigh of almost reverent relief.
Without another thought, he let himself fall into the cold water.
The impact was like nature embracing him. The pain dulled, transforming into a warm tingling that ran from the nape of his neck to his heels. He closed his eyes and allowed the lake to carry away the sharpest stings, enveloping him in peaceful silence.
This… definitely helps, he thought, submerging half his face as a soft ripple brushed past his shoulders.
Jin emerged from the water feeling the tension in his body loosening bit by bit. The lake's chill had soothed the burning in his muscles and bones, leaving only a dull throb beneath the skin. He walked to the shore, the morning sun bathing him in a gentle glow. The robe he had left spread atop a rock was already completely dry.
He dressed slowly—not out of laziness, but caution—and tied the sash around his waist with a tired sigh. His body still protested, a blend of stiffness and smoldered heat reminding him of every strike, every stance, every tiny advancement earned through pain.
Even so, a strange calm settled within him.
He looked at the lake one last time. Over the past month, that little mirror of water had become his refuge, a hidden corner where he could breathe away from the sect's noise. Now, after his exhausting training, it felt more precious than ever.
He walked into the forest at an unhurried pace, leaving behind the lake's dampness and the echo of his own breathing. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, and rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy.
As he moved between the trees, his thoughts drifted toward the sect, toward the life that pulsed beyond this silent forest.
I wonder… he mused, tilting his head with mild curiosity, if any of the others who joined with me have already progressed in their cultivation.
He remembered their faces, their nervous expressions, the fierce or feigned determination. Jin let out a soft laugh.
—I suppose some of them must already be bragging about their progress—he murmured to himself.
The path opened ahead; the forest grew less dense, announcing the nearness of the main roads. A light breeze stirred his hair, carrying away the scent of water and leaves.
Jin adjusted his robe once more, drew a deep breath, and continued walking, leaving behind the peace of the woods to return to the sect… and everything that awaited him.
Jin made his way through the outer sect's main roads, hair still slightly damp from the lake. The bright sky filtered through the treetops, yet something felt strange.
Where was everyone?
A whole month had passed… yet he didn't see any of the youths who had entered alongside him. Not a familiar face, not even the voices of juniors training in the courtyards.
As he pondered it, a loud and enthusiastic voice rang behind him:
—Brother Jin!
A boy with a naturally serious, almost intimidating face—sharp cheekbones, strong brows, an expression that bordered on threatening even when he smiled—ran toward him, raising a hand in an energetic greeting.
But his eyes… his eyes shone with a wild, lively spark, almost crackling. No hostility. Just excitement.
It was Lian Xuan.
The boy who had scored second after Jin in the Jade Peak's test.
—Brother Jin —Lian Xuan said, approaching in long strides—. I finally found you! Haven't seen your shadow in weeks.
Jin inclined his head slightly.
—I've been… busy. —In truth, he had been in complete seclusion—. I also thought I'd see more of our group around, but I haven't run into anyone.
Lian Xuan let out a nervous laugh that didn't match his intimidating face at all.
—That's normal. Most are still stuck trying to stabilize their Qi gathering. I thought it would take me twice as long, but— —he puffed his chest with quiet pride— thanks to the deacons' weekly lectures, I reached the first level of Qi Condensation.
Jin blinked.
—Weekly… lectures? —he repeated, wearing a strange expression.
Lian Xuan stared at him, confused.
—Well, of course. Haven't you gone? The deacons explain breathing techniques, common mistakes when circulating Qi, basic theory… very helpful. —Then he added, more quietly—. Though only a few of us managed to actually take advantage of them.
Jin almost felt his soul sink into his stomach.
Weekly… lectures?
Ah, right. Those existed…
With all the body-training, forest wandering, and solitary cultivation, he had completely forgotten about them.
—I see —Jin replied, trying to maintain composure—. Congratulations on your progress. Being the first among the others… that's impressive.
Lian Xuan grinned, showing a perfect row of teeth that contrasted sharply with his intimidating features.
—Well, first… —he scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed—. Except for you, of course. But no one knew anything about you. Some thought you'd injured yourself. The elders said everyone would find their own rhythm, but still… we wondered what had become of you.