The third and final morning in the cellar felt different. As Li Chen settled into his meditation, he could feel a tangible shift in his own internal architecture. The cracks in his spiritual core were no longer gaping wounds but sealed seams, and his control over the flow of Qi was finer and more responsive than ever before. When he finished, the System's report was the best yet.
[Final preparatory cultivation complete. Body Integrity: 58%. Core is stable enough for strenuous activity.]
He was as ready as he could be. It was time to leave the tomb behind.
The next hour was spent in methodical preparation. He filled his waterskin at the well. He packed the last of his meager rations—a handful of dried meat and some tough, starchy tubers. The valuable array-engraving chisels were wrapped carefully and secured in his pack.
His most precious cargo, the Codex, required special attention. He couldn't risk it being damaged by the elements. Consulting the System, he devised a simple waterproofing solution. He found a large, supple piece of leather from a tattered banner, then created a sealant by melting down the fat from a piece of his dried meat and mixing it with pine resin scraped from a nearby tree. He coated the leather thoroughly, wrapped the priceless book within its folds, and secured the bundle tightly. It was a crude but effective measure.
Finally, he equipped himself. He strapped the pack to his back and pulled on the [Gecko-Talon Gauntlets]. The cool hide and hard obsidian talons felt less like a tool and more like an extension of his own body. He was no longer a helpless victim. He was equipped. He was prepared.
Before leaving, he stood one last time in the center of the ruins, the place that had been both his grave and his crucible. He looked at the shattered pagodas and the collapsed halls, silent monuments to a people and a philosophy erased from the world. He made a silent promise to the lingering spirits of his sect.
I am not running. I am leaving to reclaim our foundation, to find the heart you saved for us. I will return.
With that vow settling in his soul, he turned his back on the ruins of the Celestial Formation Sect and set his face towards the jagged silhouette of Dragon's Tooth Peak.
The journey immediately took him out of the familiar territory of the ruins and into the untamed wilderness. The terrain grew steep and treacherous, the path a barely-there animal trail winding through dense, ancient forests. The air was alive with the sounds of unseen things, and the spiritual pressure of the deep mountains was a palpable weight.
He was a trespasser here. To the powerful beasts that roamed these woods, his scent would be an invitation. He stopped, plucking a large, waxy leaf from a bush.
"System, access the blueprint for a basic [Scent-Masking Ward]," he requested.
A simple diagram appeared in his mind, one of the first utility formations taught to disciples. He placed a drop of his own blood in the center of the leaf, then channeled a wisp of Qi, folding the leaf in a precise, geometric pattern as instructed by the blueprint. The leaf glowed with a faint green light for a moment, then faded. He tucked it into his robes.
[Scent-Masking Ward - Mk. 1 active. Duration: 6 hours. Masks host's spiritual and physical scent from creatures below the Core Formation realm.]
It was a minor trick, but it was another piece of the puzzle, another layer of security bought with intellect instead of power. He continued his journey, moving with a newfound confidence.
For hours he walked, climbing steadily, leaving the valley of his fallen sect far below. As dusk began to settle, he found shelter for the night in a shallow, wind-carved cave on the side of a ridge. From here, he had a clear, unobstructed view of his destination.
Dragon's Tooth Peak pierced the heavens, its summit wreathed in a terrifying crown of churning, dark clouds. Even from this distance, he could see flashes of raw, untamed spiritual energy arcing between the clouds—lightning of pure purple and gold. The spiritual storms were not just a weather phenomenon; they were a permanent, violent vortex of power.
The sight should have terrified him. Instead, the architect within looked at the raw, chaotic power swirling around the peak and felt a thrill of anticipation. It was the ultimate defensive barrier, and the ultimate power source.
His ancestors had chosen well. Now, he just had to survive the climb.