Back at the hut, Wuji sat cross-legged on his straw mat, finishing the breakfast he had been forced to abandon earlier. Beside him, Meiyin nibbled on a dumpling, stealing glances at him between bites.
"Brother, what do you think the Fifth Elder wants from you?" she asked.
Wuji chewed slowly, then answered without looking at her. "I don't know for sure. But I've a few guesses."
He leaned back slightly. "Perhaps he just wants to see how someone he once called talentless became a martial artist. Maybe he suspects that I have some hidden technique or secret. But if that were the case, would he really ask me openly, in front of everyone?"
He shook his head. "Unless he doesn't care what people think. Or maybe he just doesn't want anything. Maybe he's just curious."
"You're overthinking again," Meiyin said with a mouthful of food. "You got all paranoid for a second."
Wuji chuckled softly. "Yeah. Scheming too much makes you think shadows have teeth." He stretched his legs and stood up.
"Either way, I'll find out for myself."
He walked to the corner, poured cold water over his hands, and dried them off. "Yin Yin, cook the rest of the meat. There's a pouch of herbs beside your bed. Use some of them."
"Okay," she said.
"I'll be out back training." With that, he stepped outside, leaving the warmth of the hut behind.
Behind the hut, Wuji dropped into a horse stance and resumed his relentless training. Occasionally, he paused to murmur corrections to his form and posture.
"This angle's better than before," he said under his breath as he shifted slightly and locked into the improved stance.
Time passed, measured only by the burn in his legs and the rhythm of his breathing.
He practiced the Iron Marrow Body Technique all day without pause. When night finally fell, the dark gray sky had turned pitch black, and fire torches lit up across the village.
Drenched in sweat, Wuji sat and watched flickers of orange flame dancing several hundred meters away.
His chest heaved. Every inch of him ached. Anatomical Insight allowed him to train perfectly but also drained him quickly. Precision came at a cost, and stamina was the price.
Still, he had no regrets. He was close.
"By tomorrow, I should reach eightfold bone density," he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. "As for ninefold... I don't know how long that'll take. Anyway, I wasn't aiming for it. Even with both traits, I doubt I can reach ninefold if my body rejects the strain."
He leaned back against the cool earth. During his training these last few days, he discovered that each fold of bone density was a higher wall than the last. Without anatomical insight, not even cellular regeneration would have carried him this far.
After resting for five minutes, Wuji stood up. His sweat had cooled and his breath was calm. Without wasting time, he made his way to the dojo.
After walking for a few minutes, he reached the dojo. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. A few disciples were still training.
He glanced around. The eunuchs were not present; only Yuliana was there, quietly practicing in a corner.
"Maybe they should head to the capital and offer themselves to the royals," he thought, smirking to himself.
Yuliana caught his expression from the corner of her eye and flinched. She immediately changed positions, pretending not to notice him, though her movements were stiff. "If he can't see me, maybe he won't remember me," she prayed silently.
But Wuji wasn't thinking of her at all.
His focus was on the Fifth Elder.
He approached the elder's chamber and stopped just outside. Through the thin paper window, he could see the elder's broad, muscular silhouette. The elder was motionless, quietly meditating.
"Come in," the elder said in a calm, deep voice.
Wuji slid open the door and stepped inside.
The room was simple. A few candles lit the space with a warm, flickering glow. Shelves lined the walls and were stacked with aged manuals and martial arts manuals.
Wuji's eyes lingered on the books with thinly veiled greed, then quickly snapped back to the present.
The Fifth Elder sat cross-legged at the far end of the room, his presence as grounded and unmoving as a mountain.
"Fifth Elder, I'm here," Wuji said, offering a slight bow.
"Sit," the elder replied, not acknowledging the bow. Most students bowed to the floor. Wuji's half-measure seemed to amuse the elder, but he didn't comment.
Wuji sat a few steps away, facing the elder directly.
"To what do I owe this private audience?" he asked.
"No need to be so tense," the elder said, his voice still calm. "If I wanted to harm you, I would have done so by now. I don't waste time with games."
Wuji relaxed slightly, but he was more confused than ever. "What could he want from me?" he thought.
"I want you to be my disciple," the Fifth Elder said bluntly.
Immediately a tremor passed through Wuji's body, freezing him in place. His expression darkened.
"A disciple? Me?" he said sharply. "Didn't you say that I had no talent for martial arts? Now that I've proven you wrong, you want to be my master?"
Although he spoke angrily, his mind was calm as he analyzed the elder's intentions.
"Everyone's scheming. No one gives something away without wanting more in return. So, what is it? The only real asset I have is my unstealable talent: Cell Dominion. First, let's see how he responds to my anger."
Wuji looked up. "And what do you hope to gain by taking me as your disciple?"
"A legacy," the Fifth Elder replied in a rough, gravelly voice without blinking.
Wuji's eyes narrowed slightly, but the elder didn't wait.
"I've rotted in this backwater village for decades, all for the promise of seeing the realm above the acquired realm," he said, sitting up straighter. The air around him suddenly became sharp.
"I've also watched good men die with nothing. I trained fools without backbone. I waited—waited—for someone worth a damn. And you, boy—"
He pointed a calloused finger at Wuji's chest.
"You spat in their faces. You broke what everyone said couldn't be broken. You showed me that even the weak can find the courage to face gods. You clawed your way up from the dirt with nothing but your willpower."
"Well, I did claw my way up, but I had my traits. Does he mean Immortal Cultivator when he says 'gods'?" he thought, continuing to listen.
The fifth elder leaned forward, his eyes on him.
"Don't think I'm here to flatter you. I don't care about your pride. You have talent, and I can see it. You're raw, reckless, and dangerous. But you're also authentic and unbreakable. I don't know where your confidence comes from, but I like it. That unyielding confidence of yours. I'd be damned if I let that go to waste."
Wuji stayed silent. He could feel the change in the fifth elder's mood.
The fifth elder's gaze hardened. "I misjudged you once. That's on me. I won't do it again."
Wuji remained silent, watching. He didn't sense any malice in the man's words. No strings. No hook. Just the weight of a fighter who had seen too much and knew how quickly things could end.
"And if I refuse?" Wuji asked calmly.
"Then you're walking into what's coming blind. When the chief crushes you or an immortal cultivator decides you're useful, I'll bury another wasted fire in the ground."
He leaned back, but his voice didn't lose its edge.
"But if you're smart, if you've got even an ounce of sense beneath that arrogance, you'll take the offered hand to sharpen your blade before the real killing starts."
"I can't let a talent like this die at the hands of those self-righteous cultivators," the Fifth Elder thought, watching Wuji closely.
The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his hardened face. "He might be the one to change the fate of martial artists. If he becomes my disciple, I can guide and protect him. If his talent is as great as I think, he could usher in a new era."
Wuji sat silently, staring at the ground.
"What can he offer me? Protection? That would only be temporary. I can run if I need to. Hide. Survive. But what about Meiyin?" His hands clenched unconsciously. "She can't keep running with me forever. I'm not strong enough yet."
He raised his head. "I have a question."
The Fifth Elder responded instantly. "Ask."
"How strong do I have to be to kill the village chief?" Wuji's tone was cold and almost clinical.
The Fifth Elder's lips curled into a knowing smile, and he let out a short, sharp laugh.
"Haha! Bold. I expected no less." Then his face turned grim.
"But I won't lie to you. I'm still in the early stages of the Acquired Realm. I would walk away from that fight with serious injuries; if I ever had the chance to walk away at all, that is."
"That old bastard's flying sword isn't just for show. It's a trump card given to him by his older brother, who is also a cultivator—and a strong one at that."
Wuji's brows furrowed. "Not even a legendary Acquired Realm martial artist can defeat him?"
"That's the difference between our paths and theirs," said the Fifth Elder, his voice heavy.
"He's only at the third stage of the early Qi Refinement Realm, if I recall correctly. But there are nine stages in total. I, an early-stage Acquired Realm martial artist, barely compare to the fifth stage of the Qi Refinement Realm."
He leaned forward, his eyes like coals. "And worse? While we break our bodies to get stronger, they meditate. While we bleed for years to gain power, they swallow a few pills and fly through the skies, controlling swords from hundreds of meters away."
He let that sink in. Wuji nodded slowly, his pride in his anatomical trait fading.
"Good," the Fifth Elder said. "Now you understand what you're up against. What's your decision?"