However, this time fate smiled on the strategist in an extraordinary way. When he obtained the physical copy of the book, its protective enchantments had already been shattered by the explosion of his storage pouch—making it all too easy for him to catch a glimpse of its contents. The book recorded a secret cultivation method that seemingly belonged to a sect of poison cultivators. This method was all about "entering the Dao through poison." In practice, one first senses and absorbs the spiritual energy of heaven and earth into the body. Then, using a specially formulated recipe, one refines a concoction extracted from various poisonous herbs as the medicine's catalyst. While simultaneously absorbing external spiritual energy, one employs sheer mental focus to drive that energy into transforming the herbal extract. Gradually, this energized essence is stored internally to fortify the tendons, as well as the internal organs and meridians—ultimately completing the initial step of Qi Condensation and ushering the practitioner into the first level. Rather than the measured, methodical approach of Daoist, Buddhist, or Confucian cultivators, this technique relies on the brutal power of toxic herbs to forcefully strengthen the body even before reaching the first level—a decidedly unorthodox and risky path.
Not only had fate granted him a rare opportunity, but the strategist was also ruthlessly bold. First, despite not even knowing whether he possessed a spiritual root, he dared to try the method. For many who have cultivated mundane inner power, it is difficult to tell the difference between the spiritual essence of heaven and earth and one's own energy. If he mistakenly treated his inner force as spiritual energy—and if in truth he had no spiritual root at all—the subsequent absorption of the poisonous concoction would have immediately proved fatal. Second, the method happened to perfectly match his physical attributes. He was born with a four-element spiritual root that favored the wood element—and since the technique was a wood-endorsed, entry-level method, it meshed with his innate nature like a glove.
Overjoyed by his discovery, he immediately resolved to train with it. The opening pages of the book even detailed the secret formula for its concoction. Because this was designed as an entry-level recipe, it didn't call for impossibly rare herbs; otherwise, an uninitiated practitioner would be forced to rely on heavenly treasures—and the sect's very survival would have been put at risk. That said, while the formula was streamlined for the sect, some of the herbs were extremely hard to come by in the mortal realm. For someone like him—belonging to the "Xunxian bloodline" that had spent years wandering remote mountains and ancient forests—the majority of the herbs were accessible. Yet he still couldn't locate two crucial herbs essential for harmonizing the medicinal powers. Without these, the toxic potency could not be neutralized during absorption, resulting in excruciating pain for anyone who dared to undertake the method.
At this point the old man turned his gaze back to Li Yan. Li Yan fell silent—realizing at last why his training had been so agonizing. The missing harmonizing herb was the root of his suffering.
Determined, the strategist spent two long years scouring the lands until he finally managed to find one of the missing herbs. The last type, however, remained utterly elusive. In that desperate moment his ruthless nature prevailed. Without that final herb—and without even being sure if he truly possessed a spiritual root—he decided to force forward with the technique. Fate, it seemed, was on his side: his innate spiritual root perfectly matched the requirements of the method. Even though the process was excruciatingly painful, after 49 grueling days he astonishingly managed to break into the first level of the Qi Condensation stage.
What he hadn't yet realized was that even an "entry-level" formula in a sect's secret method was the product of tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands—or in some cases millions—of years of refinement. Every herb in that formula had its unique function, and even the supporting herbs were indispensable. They couldn't be casually dismissed or substituted. By forcing his training along without a proper balance, even though he attained the first level of Qi Condensation, he had already sown the seeds of ruin. The missing harmonizer meant that a portion of the medicinal power was never fully refined; over time, this leftover power began to fester into dangerous "poisonous flames."
Initially, there were few outward signs. But as the strategist's cultivation progressed, after a few years the residual, unrefined medicinal energy in his body grew stronger and began to form into violent toxic flames. In the early stages, these manifested merely as the disturbing irritability and inner turmoil that he had experienced before. At that time, however, he had already advanced to the second level—so he was still able to suppress the burgeoning threat. He believed that as his cultivation deepened, his spiritual power might eventually purge these poisonous flames. Thus, he continued both his training and his search for a way to calm and clarify his mind.
According to the instructions in the paper book, one must reach the third level of Qi Condensation before the spirit can detach from the body—and only then can the secrets contained in the Jade Tablet and Jade Scroll be read. Until he attained that detachment, neither the Tablet nor the Scroll could be opened; it was impossible to know if they contained remedies for his dilemma. So he resorted to a simple method: retreating to cold, desolate wastelands and immersing himself in the sound of music. In a twist of fate, this method propelled him, almost by sheer force, into the third level of Qi Condensation. Once his spirit was finally able to soar free from his body, he eagerly set out to read the Jade Tablet and the Jade Scroll. While he couldn't unlock the Tablet, opening the Scroll revealed that it was part of a unified set of techniques—a revelation that filled him with even more excitement. He thought that perhaps within its pages he might discover a remedy to his predicament—but the solution it laid out stunned and appalled him.
The first part of the Jade Scroll detailed the incantations to guide one from the fourth through the tenth layers of Qi Condensation. Its latter half, however, focused squarely on the advantages and pitfalls of the formula. On the plus side, if one could absorb the medicinal liquid and combine it with the proper cultivation methods, one's body would become vastly more robust than that of peers in other sects. In later stages, that physical advantage would only grow more pronounced—translating into formidable combat strength in magical duels. Moreover, this method allowed for a pace of cultivation that far eclipsed orthodox techniques. On the downside, if one forcefully trains using an improper formula, one's body will gradually begin to forge poisonous flames. Nourished by one's internal spiritual energy, these flames will eventually grow uncontrollably—until, at the peak of the third level, they erupt with such ferocity that blood reverses in the veins and the body shatters into pieces. Even if one tried to stop advancing at the peak of the third level, it would be futile; the poisonous flames develop a life of their own each day, and only by continually raising one's cultivation realm can they be suppressed. Otherwise, premature death is inevitable—a vicious cycle in which one is forced to press on despite knowing the outcome is death.
Upon reading these grim consequences, the strategist erupted in furious curses, nearly succumbing to an internal attack by the poisonous flames.
In the realm of immortal cultivation—especially in sects that span thousands, even tens of thousands of years—no method is ever left without its safety measures. Even the most basic entry-level techniques are typically rigged with hidden safeguards. The omissions in the paper book were deliberate; they were meant to prevent the technique from accidentally falling into unworthy hands. If someone were to obtain it and practice without understanding these critical details until it was too late, their fate would almost certainly be tragic.
This realization both shocked and enraged him, and he immediately set out to find a solution. In time, he encountered an elder cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage. By sheer coincidence, this man also hailed from the "Xunxian bloodline." Although the elder possessed enough spiritual might to, at great cost to his own true essence, clear the toxic flames from the strategist's body, the cultivation world was governed by ruthless "jungle laws" where the strong prey on the weak. Often, if a low-level or solitary cultivator were encountered, they would be ruthlessly attacked and robbed. In his case, he was lucky: his own level was too low to be worth the trouble, and on account of their shared bloodline, the elder spared him.
Realizing the rare chance to save his life, the strategist begged desperately. Although the senior wouldn't perform a full energy circulation to detoxify him, out of fraternal courtesy he did reveal a possible path to salvation. He explained that if the strategist could advance to the fourth level of Qi Condensation, there might be a way to purge the poisonous flames from his body. However, the chances were slim. The method clearly stated that if one reached the peak of the third level, the poisonous flames would erupt so violently that life would be snuffed out before any further progress could be made.
There was, however, another option. One could deliberately slow down the progression from the early stage up to the peak of the third level—and in that extended period, capture another low-level cultivator who practiced the same technique. By forcibly absorbing that person's spiritual energy in one sudden, aggressive surge, one might be able to catapult into the fourth level. If successful, this might eliminate the poisonous flames; if it failed, both would meet a terrible end.
This method, however, came with strict conditions. First, both practitioners' methods had to be identical so that their energies would be compatible. Second, the selected cultivator had to be exactly at the peak of the first layer—no more and no less. If the target were too strong, even a small amount of his third-level energy would trigger catastrophic backlash, not to mention a full-fledged push into the fourth level. On the other hand, if his levels were too low, his internal spiritual energy wouldn't suffice for the breakthrough—rendering the effort utterly worthless.
Later on, the elder at the Foundation Establishment stage wasted no time explaining this method of siphoning spiritual energy from others. Although not an arcane secret in the broader cultivation world, very few dared to employ it. For one thing, regardless of outcome, the unfortunate victim—a hapless, low-level cultivator—would lose all his vital energy and die a most tragic death. Moreover, converting another's spiritual energy for one's own use is far from a simple feat. The success rate is dismally low for several reasons. First, the properties of the two energies must match; if they differ, the repulsion between them can prove fatal. Second, even if the techniques are identical, the energy absorbed from another must be gradually assimilated—a process that might take a few years or even decades (or, in some cases, centuries), depending on how much is absorbed. During that assimilation period, one must refrain from using any spiritual energy at all, lest the two energies collide disastrously and lead to a complete loss of control. Given all that time, it would often be far more sensible to simply cultivate on one's own. Third, such practices are regarded with disdain in the cultivation world. Even if not yet universally condemned, encountering a cultivator who resorts to this method typically provokes a coordinated attack. In short, this method is only ever a desperate last resort—almost a "claw and a half" approach that few would willingly choose.
The elder also candidly admitted that whether reaching the fourth level would actually clear the poisonous flames was mere conjecture. Even so, the strategist was so grateful that he fell to his knees in thanks. In the end, the senior even bestowed upon him three packs of "Clear Heart Powder"—a low-grade alchemical herbal powder. While not particularly potent, it was especially useful for beginners who struggled to meditate and remained prone to agitation. The powder helped a cultivator calm his mind and keep his inner core stable—for the strategist, who needed every little advantage to prolong the period during which he could suppress the poison, it was invaluable.
After receiving this crucial guidance, the strategist began scheming how to find a suitable candidate from whom to siphon spiritual energy. Ideally, he would locate someone from the sect or family originally associated with this technique, then at an opportune moment stealthily infiltrate their compound to capture an individual who was at the peak of the first layer of Qi Condensation. Once subdued, he would extract that person's spiritual energy.
Yet even as he plotted such a course, he knew it was a step he dared not truly take. Not only did he lack the nerve, but even if he had mustered the courage, his meager cultivation level meant that simply trespassing into a sect's guarded territory would trigger their defensive formations—and he would be annihilated in an instant.
As a member of the time-honored "Xunxian bloodline," he was well aware that anyone caught secretly cultivating a sect's or family's sacred techniques would face one grim destiny—being utterly exterminated. Unauthorized practice of another's immortal method was a cardinal sin in the cultivation world.
Moreover, the technique he had come across was discovered near a pile of withered bones. In the world of cultivation, the stronger a cultivator is, the longer their remains endure after death. He didn't know how long those bones had persisted—it was entirely possible that the sect or family which once practiced this method had long since dissolved into the mists of history. If that were the case, where could he possibly find them? His chances of survival were, in truth, extremely slim.