Morning light seeped through the thin lattice window like a cautious guest testing unfamiliar ground.
Jiang Chen opened his eyes slowly. For a brief moment his consciousness drifted, lingering in the aftertaste of pain and fatigue left behind by the Hexagonal Bone Seizing Formation.
"I am still in one piece, it seems."
He released a long, heavy breath.
Checking his body, Jiang Chen flexed his fingers. The joints answered sluggishly. He rolled his shoulders, then drew one knee up, probing tendons and muscle. Yet his body responded with resistance, a heavy drag clinging to every motion.
A dull ache spread through him.
'So this is the price for power.'
Jiang Chen's thoughts remained calm in a way that almost felt detached.
He sat up, black hair sliding loosely down his shoulders. He closed his eyes and guided a thread of perception inward.
Blood coursed through his veins in a steady rhythmic flow without a hint of stagnation or internal damage. His bones resonated faintly, carrying an inhuman strength that had not existed before.
The Myriad Strength Tiger Bones essence had successfully taken root.
He redirected his internal gaze toward his muscles, tendons, and skin.
'Hm, only the flesh aspect is lagging behind.'
He opened his eyes, satisfied. There was no need to dwell on what could not be improved immediately. He had learned long ago that impatience killed more cultivators than poor talent ever did.
As for taking on missions today, it was not a good move. Venturing out while not at one's peak was foolish, and Jiang Chen had no habit of courting death.
The twenty three spirit stones resting in his storage pouch weighed on his thoughts as he rose to wash and eat a simple breakfast, allowing the day to pass without urgency. Cultivation until afternoon. Then food. Then cultivation again.
Spiritual energy gathered and sank into his body, then flowed through his meridians and settled into the dantian like rain absorbed by dry earth. Spirit stones dimmed one after another, their inner light extinguished as their essence dissolved into him.
When midnight came, he rested.
And when dawn followed, he did not waste time.
By noon Jiang Chen left the sect grounds and headed toward a hidden valley known only to a handful of outer disciples.
It lay beyond winding paths and broken stone steps, where with each step the noise of human activity gradually dissolved into wind and water.
Before his eyes found it, the waterfall announced itself through sound. A deep steady roar that drowned all else. With each step the air grew cooler, carrying the scent of wet stone and moss.
The sight opened suddenly.
Clear water poured down a sheer rock face and broke apart as it fell, thinning into long slivers of white like countless silver blades without end. It struck a pond so clearly that pale blue and ash gray stones at the bottom were plainly visible.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, scattering into fragments that danced upon the water's surface. Squirrels darted along branches. Somewhere deeper in the woods a wild deer lifted its head, ears twitching, then faded silently back into the greenery.
There were no demonic beasts here, only the peace of ordinary life.
Jiang Chen stepped onto a flat stone by the pond's edge and stood still. Black outer sect robes clung to his tall frame, stirring faintly in the breeze. His shoulders were broad, his build lean yet defined, muscle lines tempered by numerous hardships. Shoulder length black hair framed his face, thick and untamed, falling like a wolf's mane. His skin was fair and his eyebrows sharp. His eyes were dark and deep, like ink pools untouched by light. A faint scar traced down the side of his neck, subtle yet impossible to miss once noticed.
A double edged sword hung at his waist, its hilt wrapped in dark leather and the steel shimmering with cold light. On the index finger of his right hand was a golden ring engraved with the emblem of a rising red sun, indicating his affiliation with Sun Jian's faction.
Jiang Chen observed the surroundings without haste. It was a mesmerizing landscape, nature resting in gentle stillness.
But tranquility did not mean safety.
Calm was merely the surface of the lake. Only when his divine sense swept the valley, measuring distance, angles, and blind spots. Only when his instincts settled did he draw a breath and plant his feet.
The Heavenly Tiger Fist began with a single strike.
His right arm drove forward. The movement was direct yet fluid, like wind slicing through bamboo. Spiritual energy surged along his meridians and gathered in his forearm. A faint golden light bloomed, condensing into the outline of a tiger's head, jaws parted ferociously.
The punch stopped short of anything tangible.
The qi dispersed, returning to his body.
Again.
This time the left arm. The same path, the same qi gathering, yet subtly different, like the same river flowing through another bend.
Jiang Chen's focus intensified. He transitioned into alternating his strikes.
Right, then left, then both fists in unison.
Stances shifted abruptly. One moment low and grounded, the next extended and open. His feet traced arcs on uneven stone, deliberately placing themselves where balance was least forgiving. He rolled, flipped, fell, and rose again without pause. Dust clung to his robes, then was shaken free by motion.
A tiger does not charge blindly.
It stalks.
Then it kills.
Jiang Chen suddenly sprinted, leaping over protruding roots, pivoting midair, landing in a crouch that flowed directly into a strike. His fists cut through mist, stirring ripples across the pond even without contact.
After a time he walked to the water's edge and gathered several thick wooden logs. With a flick of his arm he tossed them into the pond. They struck the surface with hollow splashes and drifted unevenly.
He stepped onto the nearest log.
It began to roll instantly.
He adjusted his center of gravity immediately, bending his knees and spreading his arms.
He jumped.
Another log.
Then the one after that.
Sometimes he slipped and plunged into the cold water, submerging completely. He emerged soaked, hair clinging to his face, breath misting the air, and climbed back onto the logs without irritation.
The water resisted him and the logs betrayed him.
Good. Because that was the point.
Time passed unnoticed. When Jiang Chen finally halted his practice, an hour and a half had slipped by like sand through his fingers. He stood on the shore, water dripping from his sleeves, chest rising and falling steadily.
'Intermediate mastery.'
The thought surfaced calmly.
Techniques were divided into four realms of mastery. Initial mastery in the Heavenly Tiger Fist drew upon the strength of a single tiger. Intermediate mastery allowed one to pull out the force of ten tigers. Advanced mastery doubled that force. Perfect mastery pressed the limit, thirty tigers roaring in unison.
He had reached intermediate mastery half a year ago.
Most cultivators required five years to approach advanced mastery. Over a decade to touch perfection. And even then it was not a guarantee.
Measured against that, his progress was not slow.
Still.
Stagnation was stagnation.
Jiang Chen closed his eyes briefly. 'This technique is no longer my main road. The Heavenly Tiger Fist is merely a weapon in my arsenal, not the foundation beneath my feet. The Flesh Devouring God Scripture is where my future lies.'
That understanding eased his heart.
He rested briefly, seated on a stone, his gaze sweeping the valley. Birds sang at intervals and the leaves shivered in the breeze. The waterfall remained constant, indifferent to all human growth or ambition.
When he rose again his eyes were focused.
It was time to test limits.
He walked toward a sheer cliff wall and stopped several paces away. His feet sank slightly into the earth. Spiritual energy surged to its limit, filling his meridians until even his skin seemed to hum.
The golden tiger phantom manifested clearly, jaws wide, eyes fierce, coiled along his forearm like a living entity.
Jiang Chen struck.
BAM!
A crack spread outward from the impact point, carving a jagged line nearly a meter wide. Fragments fell, striking the ground below.
He withdrew his hand calmly.
'Within expectations.'
He walked a few steps to the right.
This time he drew power from a different source.
The Myriad Strength Tiger Bones essence roared to life deep within him, tyrannical power surging through every bone.
He punched.
The air screamed.
Dust erupted.
The cliff face collapsed violently, the damage nearly twice as severe!
In that moment the full terrifying might of a peak level Rank One beast was laid bare!
However, Jiang Chen frowned.
Not because the power was lacking.
Red blood leaked from shallow tears on his knuckles. His flesh throbbed faintly.
His thoughts grew heavy.
'Strength that passes directly through flesh demands flesh capable of bearing it. Even though the bone refinement process hardened some of my muscles, it is still not enough.'
'But flesh refinement… the Heavenly Man Beast refinement process is nothing like bone or blood.'
It needed a cauldron.
Not an ordinary cauldron, but one forged from the essence of the Four Divine Beasts. Azure Dragon of the East, Vermilion Bird of the South, White Tiger of the West, and the Black Tortoise of the North.
Legends.
He reflected, 'For now I do not need these divine beasts themselves. Their descendants will suffice. But even so, Rank One beasts with their diluted bloodlines are treasures that every cultivator would kill to obtain.'
And beyond that a ranked fire essence was required to operate the cauldron.
Just thinking about it made his head ache.
'Difficult.'
He paused, then revised his thought.
'No. Difficult does not begin to describe it.'
Jiang Chen pressed his temples lightly.
Then his gaze shifted to a massive boulder that rested near the pond, its surface smoothed by years of wind and water.
He stepped forward.
This time spiritual energy surged without restraint.
The Heavenly Tiger Fist manifested.
Beneath it the Myriad Strength Tiger Bones essence roared, layering over the fist, concentrating every ounce of strength into a single devastating strike.
Swoosh~!
Jiang Chen struck with a powerful swing.
The sound was earth shattering.
Dust erupted in a violent cloud, thrown in every direction by the sheer force of the blow. The boulder exploded with brutal intensity and fractured into countless jagged shards that tore through the air like missiles.
Chunks of stone slammed into the ground, gouging deep craters, while others ripped into nearby trees, sending splinters flying. One piece of rock flew low and struck a nearby rabbit in the skull before it could flee, spraying blood across the earth.
When the dust finally settled the boulder was completely annihilated, reduced to a heap of shattered rubble scattered across the ground.
Jiang Chen looked at his arm.
Not even a scratch.
His eyes narrowed then brightened.
'So that is how it works. The Heavenly Tiger Fist is like a river crashing over rocks. The attack carries all its power, but the qi phantom cushions the impact and spreads the force so my body does not bear the full blow. It is not just a projection of power. It acts as a protective layer, letting my flesh endure strength that would otherwise crush it.'
Jiang Chen clenched his fist, feeling the strength flow through his arm.
A low laugh escaped him.
'This will do.'