Six months passed over the misty heights of Crouching Tiger Peak like water flowing over polished river stone.
Summer's humid warmth had given way to the biting frosts of deep winter, and now the early blossoms of spring were beginning to unfurl across the mountain terraces. For one hundred and eighty consecutive days, while the other nine inner peaks bustled with martial tournaments, faction disputes, and fervent competition among ambitious disciples, Crouching Tiger Peak remained an island of absolute serenity.
And every single morning, without fail, the day began with the rhythmic shhh-shhh of an ironwood broom.
Tai Bàoli stood in the center of the vast front courtyard, his towering frame balanced effortlessly on the balls of his feet. His grip on the worn broom handle was loose yet unshakable. With every sweeping motion, his breath pulled the crisp morning air deep into his belly, his Qi circulating along his meridians in perfect harmony with the swing of his arms.
In the first month, sweeping had felt like a chore—a test of patience designed to humble him. But as weeks turned into months under Great Elder Yi's watchful, half-blind gaze, Tai Bàoli had come to understand the profound wisdom behind the task.
Sweeping was not merely clearing leaves; it was moving with undivided intent.
When a sudden gust of mountain wind scattered a fresh pile of pine needles across the courtyard, Tai Bàoli's eyes did not blink. His breathing did not falter by a fraction of a second. Guiding his Qi in a smooth, circular tide through his waist and shoulders, his broom cut through the air with effortless grace, capturing every stray needle in a single, fluid arc. There was no brute force involved, no reckless explosion of physical attributes—only pure, unified focus.
Sitting on the veranda of the grand pavilion, leaning comfortably against a lacquered pillar with a steaming cup of tea, Great Elder Yi watched with a faint, approving smile.
"Better," Elder Yi called out, his cracked voice drifting lazily across the terrace. "Three months ago, you would have shattered the broom handle trying to swat at the wind with raw muscle. A bull charging at a mountain only breaks its own horns, Bàoli. Now, your intent moves before your body, and your Qi follows without resistance."
Tai Bàoli finished his final stroke, gathering the debris into a neat pile at the edge of the courtyard before resting the broom against the stone wall.
He wiped a faint sheen of sweat from his brow and cupped his fists respectfully.
"Thank you for the guidance, Master."
"Hmph. Do not flatter me," Elder Yi scoffed gently, waving his walking stick toward the tea table. "Come sit. It is time for your afternoon lessons. You still possess the theoretical knowledge of a backwater farmer who stumbled into a cultivation sect by accident."
Tai Bàoli grinned sheepishly as he climbed the pavilion steps and took a seat opposite his master.
The routine was as rigid as iron. Mornings were dedicated to cleaning the peak and refining his unified breath, Qi, and physical movement. Afternoons were spent on theoretical study, where Elder Yi relentlessly hammered the foundational principles of cultivation into Tai Bàoli's head.
Under Elder Yi's patient yet sharp-tongued tutelage, the vast holes in Tai Bàoli's understanding of the martial world were systematically filled. He learned how Qi interacted with the nine major meridians, how spirit herbs differed in elemental resonance, how grand sect arrays gathered ambient heaven-and-earth energy, and the true qualitative differences between the mortal cultivation realms.
Elder Yi was often baffled by his direct disciple. On one hand, Tai Bàoli would occasionally ask completely absurd questions, such as whether high-grade medicinal pills could be dissolved in porridge for better digestion. On the other hand, whenever it came to profound concepts of Dao intent, physical structure, and spiritual conviction, Tai Bàoli's comprehension was terrifyingly swift.
"Most disciples spend twenty years trying to fathom what it means to anchor their Dao Heart," Elder Yi remarked one afternoon, tapping his walking stick thoughtfully. "They think condensing a Dao is simply choosing a weapon or an element. But a Dao is your personal law—the immovable truth that dictates how you interact with heaven and earth."
It was during the fifth month, under the quiet chill of a star-filled winter night, that Tai Bàoli had finally felt his foundation reach absolute saturation.
Sitting cross-legged on the stone dais within his cave abode, Tai Bàoli had not touched his system interface. He had spent not a single point of accumulated experience. Instead, he had closed his eyes, drawn the abundant inner sect Qi into his core, and turned his focus entirely inward.
Deep within his Dantian, the condensed pillar of his unyielding Dao Heart had glowed like a miniature sun.
Tai Bàoli had built his Dao Palace out of pure, unyielding resolve.
In his mind's eye, he had seen the freezing winter nights of his childhood, the calloused hands that had hauled timber and tilled frozen dirt, the sneering faces of young masters who believed commoners were born to serve, and the terrifying jaws of beasts that had tried to tear his flesh. He took every memory, every trial, and every drop of sweat he had ever shed, forging them into four colossal, indestructible pillars of obsidian stone.
Upon those pillars, his circulating Qi had condensed layer by layer, erecting a simple, rugged, yet utterly impregnable stone fortress within his Dantian. It had no delicate carvings or ornamental roofs. It stood like a lone mountain enduring a thousand storms—a fortress declaring that its master would never again be helpless, and would never bow to heaven, earth, or man.
When the roof of the spiritual fortress sealed into place, a thunderous chime had echoed through his meridians.
Now, sitting in his cave abode after finishing the morning's chores and lessons on the one hundred and eightieth day, Tai Bàoli took a deep breath and quietly opened his system interface.
A soft, familiar blue screen materialized before his vision.
----------------
-Unlimited Experience System-
-Host-(Tai Bàoli)
-Cultivation Stage-(Body Refining 9/9, Palace Creation)
-Experience-(180.5)
-Upgrade Cost: 1, amount upgraded per, .1-
-Strength-(21.0)(+4 from Basilisk Hide, +6 from Hammering Ogre Fist, +15 from Light Devouring Phantom Body)
-Dexterity-(20.9)(+15 from Light Devouring Phantom Body)
-Comprehension-(23.5)
-Martial Arts-
-Bear's Hide: Mastery Peak (Upgraded into Basilisk Hide)
-Traceless Spectre Across the Void: Mastery Peak (Upgraded into Light Devouring Phantom Body)
-Petrifying Mad Hammer Stance: Mastery Peak (Upgraded into Hammering Ogre Fist)
-Light Devouring Phantom Body: Earth Rank - Mastery Peak
-Basilisk Hide: Earth Rank - Mastery Peak
-Hammering Ogre Fist: Earth Rank - Mastery Peak
---------------
Tai Bàoli looked at the experience counter and smiled with quiet satisfaction.
The math was clear and precise. Before his training in the Tiger's Reflection Abyss, he had been sitting on exactly 0.5 points of leftover experience. Over the last one hundred and eighty days, he had faithfully completed both of his daily repeatable missions every single day without missing a single morning or afternoon.
Cleaning Crouching Tiger Peak had yielded 0.5 experience daily, providing exactly 90 points over six months. Studying cultivation under Great Elder Yi had yielded another 0.5 experience daily, providing another 90 points.
Together, three hundred and sixty completed daily missions had granted him precisely 180 points of experience. Combined with his initial 0.5, his stockpile now stood at a massive 180.5 experience.
A soft knock echoed at the entrance of his cave abode, followed by the distinctive tap of a wooden walking stick against stone.
Tai Bàoli immediately dismissed the system screen, rose to his feet, and walked to the entrance.
Great Elder Yi stood just outside the stone threshold, his hands resting on his golden-tipped staff. The elder looked at Tai Bàoli for several long moments, his single sky-blue eye taking in the towering youth's steady posture, the faint, subdued aura of the newly forged Dao Palace within his chest, and the calm clarity in his blood-red eyes.
"You have settled into Palace Creation quite nicely," Elder Yi said, a hint of genuine pride softening his cracked voice. "Your foundation is firm, your breath is unified, and you have not rushed your progress. In all my years, I have rarely seen a disciple construct an internal palace as unyielding as yours."
"I could not have done it without your guidance, Master," Tai Bàoli said respectfully.
"Enough modesty," Elder Yi chuckled, though he did not hide his satisfaction. He tapped his walking stick against the stone floor, his expression turning thoughtful. "Your half-year of quiet seclusion has served its purpose, Bàoli. You have swept my mountain clean, steadied your breath, and built your Dao Palace on solid stone. But a cultivator cannot grow by hiding away in the mist forever."
Tai Bàoli raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "Do you have another task for me, Master? Or are we beginning a new set of lessons?"
"Neither," Elder Yi said with a wry smile. "I am telling you to leave this peak for a while and go spend time with the other disciples of the inner sect."
Tai Bàoli blinked, taken aback. For six uninterrupted months, his entire world had consisted of ironwood brooms, stone courtyards, ancient scrolls, and the quiet company of his master. The thought of deliberately mingling among the bustling crowds of the other nine peaks felt entirely foreign. "Spend time with them? Master, I've never cared much for sect politics or socializing. Wouldn't my time be better spent continuing to refine my techniques and cultivate here?"
Elder Yi shook his head gently, his single sky-blue eye gleaming with warmth and age-old wisdom. "Cultivation is not merely locking oneself in a cave and swinging your fists in isolation, silly boy. The Dao encompasses the world and the people within it. You need experience, you need peers, and you need to see how other geniuses carry themselves. Go make friends, exchange insights, and see what the Hidden Mountain Tiger Sect truly looks like beyond our quiet terrace. Even a lone mountain must stand beneath the open sky."
Tai Bàoli listened quietly, absorbing his master's words. A faint smile touched his lips as he thought of Liu Yanjiang and the other disciples he hadn't seen in half a year. The quiet discipline of Crouching Tiger Peak had tempered him, but his blood still carried the vigor of youth. He cupped his fists and bowed respectfully.
"Disciple understands. I will descend the peak and meet the others."