Zhou Fan sat cross-legged upon the cold wooden bed, his breathing steady, his pulse in harmony with the surrounding qi. Threads of spiritual energy coiled around him like silent serpents, drawn into his meridians as he continued tempering flesh and bone.
Ever since his so-called aunt had learned of his low-tier talent, she had left the house without so much as a farewell. Yet Zhou Fan was neither surprised nor wounded. In his previous life, she had done the same—discarding him the moment his potential proved disappointing.
This time, however, Zhou Fan felt no resentment. On the contrary, her absence brought a quiet satisfaction. At least now, the pretense was gone.
He pressed on, guiding the qi deeper into his body, reinforcing skin, sinew, and marrow. Only when his body trembled slightly under the strain did he finally exhale, releasing the gathered energy and opening his eyes.
"Tempering it any further would be meaningless now," Zhou Fan murmured to himself, his voice calm yet firm. He had already pushed his physique to the limits permitted by his current stage. Any further refinement would only cause disharmony within his foundation.
At present, he stood at the *Middle Stage of Rank One*—a level far too shallow to accommodate greater transformation. Without breaking through to the next realm, his body would reject additional force, and the balance he had painstakingly built would fracture.
Moreover, his resources were meager as for pill refinement—such a luxury was beyond him. The required ingredients were expensive, and the price for even a minor-grade Body Refinement Pill would drain what little he had.
He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. The path ahead remained long, but his resolve was steady as stone
---
Fang Min sat cross-legged in the center of the cultivation room, his breath steady, his mind unwavering. The chamber around him was specially constructed for one purpose alone—to enhance the flow of qi. Spiritwood walls lined with embedded runes shimmered faintly, guiding streams of spiritual essence toward the jade platform beneath him.
Above, a single spirit crystal hovered in silence, releasing a cool, dense mist of qi that swirled gently around his body. With each breath, Fang Min drew the essence into his dantian, refining it, compressing it, forcing it through his meridians.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow. The spiritual energy within his core churned violently, reaching its critical threshold. His veins pulsed with light, and the sound of a dull thrum echoed in his ears—his qi beginning to resonate with the room itself.
Suddenly, his body trembled. The qi sea within him surged as if a dam had broken. A deep rumble echoed through his core as the spiritual energy condensed and stabilized.
Boom—
A muffled shockwave rippled through the air, and a sharp glow burst from his body before fading into stillness.
Fang Min slowly opened his eyes. A calm light flickered within them—deeper, firmer than before.
He had stepped into the Late Stage of Rank One.
...
The next morning, Zhou Fan remained seated in silence, reclining against the wooden post. His gaze was distant, and his spirit calm. He had no intention of training.
Suddenly, the sharp voice of Instructor Wei Han broke the quiet.
"Zhou Fan!" he barked, eyes narrowed. "Why are you idle? You should be cultivating. A sparring competition among disciples will be held soon—do you intend to embarrass yourself?"
Zhou Fan turned his head slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in amusement.
"Sparring?" he said with a trace of disdain. "With those weaklings? Please. They're not even worth the time it would take to look at them."
A wave of murmurs spread through the nearby disciples.
"Did he just call us weaklings?"
"Such arrogance…!"
One figure stepped forward from the crowd—Lin Hao, tall and sharp-eyed, dressed in flowing brown robes. His brown hair was tied back neatly, and there was a flicker of pride in his expression.
"Zhou Fan, you dare speak so highly of yourself when you possess the lowest-grade bloodline among us? Since you look down on everyone, why not spar with me? Just the two of us."
Zhou Fan's eyes shifted lazily to Lin Hao, then closed again as if he had already grown bored.
"I would have," he replied coolly, "but there's nothing in it for me—just wasted effort and a sore wrist." He paused, then opened his eyes, a glint of challenge within them.
"However…" Zhou Fan said, his voice now calm yet sharp, "if you're so eager, let's make it interesting. We'll wager three qi pearls. If you win, I'll hand over mine. But if I win..." He smirked. "You give me yours."
Gasps echoed among the watching disciples. A quiet tension filled the air.
Lin Hao's expression darkened as Zhou Fan's words sank in. The watching disciples had fallen silent, their eyes flicking between the two.
"What happened?" Zhou Fan said leisurely, stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back. "Where did all that pride go the moment I mentioned a wager? I already knew you were weak, Lin Hao... but to be both weak and spineless—now that's truly impressive."
A few disciples gasped at the provocation.
Lin Hao's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He lowered his voice, but the venom in his words was unmistakable.
"Zhou Fan… you bastard."
He stepped forward, eyes burning. "Fine. We'll wager three qi pearls. But don't you dare cry once I crush you."
Zhou Fan gave a soft chuckle, stepping calmly onto the sparring platform.
"Make sure you don't disappoint me, Lin Hao. I wouldn't want to waste my breath on someone who can't even survive a single exchange."
The air between them grew tense, the murmurs of the surrounding disciples giving way to silence. The challenge was now sealed—pride, pearls, and reputation on the line.
As the signal was given, Lin Hao shot forward, his brown robes fluttering as he gathered qi into his fist. With a sharp roar, he launched a straight punch aimed at Zhou Fan's chest—his movement fast, but unrefined.
Zhou Fan didn't flinch.
In the instant the strike neared, he tilted his body slightly, letting the blow pass by harmlessly, his expression calm—almost bored.
Before Lin Hao could recover, Zhou Fan's knee shot upward like lightning, driving directly into Lin Hao's abdomen.
Boom!
A dull thud echoed across the platform.
Lin Hao's eyes widened as the breath was knocked from his lungs. His body folded over Zhou Fan's knee before being thrown back, collapsing to the ground in a heap—unconscious.
Silence fell.
Zhou Fan stepped back, dusted his robes, and spoke without looking at the crowd.
"Three qi pearls."