WebNovels

Chapter 10 - Chapter 10

The next day, an elder summoned him. It was Elder Gu of Lingfeng, who once again sternly warned him that matters concerning the Jiugong must never be mentioned. He repeated that if even a single word leaked out, the consequences would be unimaginably severe.

Naturally, Li Yuan repeatedly promised, not daring to utter a single unnecessary word.

After Li Yuan left, Elder Gu mused to himself: This disciple gained fortune years ago through Fu Kong Zhenxiu's blessing, managing to break through his mid-stage bottleneck. And now, having survived the ambush of the Jiugong, escaping death itself… perhaps this one is not so simple.

So Elder Gu summoned another disciple and asked, "Do you know of Lingfeng's steward disciple, Li Yuan?"

The disciple replied quickly, "Ah? Li Yuan? I've heard a little about him."

"Then tell me about him."

"This… this person's spiritual roots and character are both mediocre. He was an orphan from the foot of the mountain, brought here to cultivate after testing. At first he was a completely ordinary disciple, even something of a joke. I heard that more than ten years ago, he nearly got his throat pierced by a mortal with a single sword stroke!

After that, he stumbled upon great fortune. His cave-dwelling, located far to the northwest, happened to absorb the residual fortune when the True Person of Qingfeng Pavilion established his Dao foundation. That luck allowed Li Yuan to break into the mid-stage and become a steward disciple.

But inside the Hundred-Tiered Pagoda, he only managed to clear nine levels, making him the weakest among all stewards of the sect.

Furthermore, it is said his techniques are poor—he doesn't even know a single mid-tier spell."

"What?" Elder Gu's eyes went dark. He sighed: "So useless?"

"Exactly so!"

On his way back to his cave, Li Yuan made his routine contribution of thirty spirit stones, leaving him with only eighty-seven stones in total.

The reason he had spent over two hundred spirit stones—a massive sum—to buy a mid-grade flying artifact was after long, careful deliberation.

High-grade artifacts were far too expensive, costing at least four hundred stones even for the simplest ones—far beyond what he could afford.

And if he bought a mid-grade offensive or defensive artifact, he would still be crushed if faced with multiple mid-stage opponents. Against a late-stage cultivator, survival would be even less likely.

Thus, rather than struggle to fight, it was better to invest in a mid-grade flying artifact. If he couldn't win, at least he could run. Ordinary mid-stage cultivators rarely spent so much on flight artifacts, so as long as he ran fast enough, even late-stage cultivators might not be able to catch him without a superior flying tool.

Of course, if he encountered a sword cultivator like Elder Cui Huaiqiu, then he could only accept his fate.

Li Yuan returned to his small courtyard and resumed cultivation.

Seated cross-legged in his quiet chamber, he absorbed spiritual energy to strengthen his blood. Using spirit to refine blood was painstaking work—slow and steady was the only way. Otherwise, if energy reversed through his meridians, or if spirit clashed with blood, his body would explode on the spot!

This was why every cultivator who reached the late stage of Qi Refining was one hardened by decades of time. Within Qiling Sect, none had ever been known to reach late-stage in less than sixty years.

Without this Lower Yuan True Art of Spiritual Communication, Li Yuan would still be stuck in the early stage, perhaps only stepping into the mid-stage at fifty or sixty years old, and not reaching late-stage until one hundred fifty or sixty. By then, he would merely wait for his lifespan to end.

Becoming a rumored Foundation Establishment cultivator was even harder, with countless obstacles along the path. That meager time would never suffice to reach it.

Fortunately, he now had something to rely upon. Even if the Lower Yuan True Art made it difficult to learn spells, produced mediocre mana, and even hindered his control over artifacts, leaving him the weakest in his realm—

It could still establish a Foundation! And perhaps even go further!

For Li Yuan, an utterly average man, merely seeing a path toward Foundation Establishment was enough to make every other drawback irrelevant.

Around his courtyard, spiritual energy slowly gathered. Guided by his mind, it entered his organs, then his limbs and bones, nourishing blood with spirit.

This speed surpassed that of disciples with superior roots. Whether it rivaled even the lowest-grade Earth spiritual root, only a direct comparison with Li Yunming could tell.

But compared to most disciples in the sect, Li Yuan's cultivation speed was undoubtedly far faster.

The sun rose and fell, two months passing in the blink of an eye. The osmanthus trees in his courtyard grew lush and green, while spring rain gently soaked the ground. Puddles rippled beneath the clear sky as a light wind stirred the curtains of rain. His courtyard gate creaked open.

A paper umbrella spread open, beneath it stood a man in blue robes, jade pendant at his waist, hair bound in a cloud-shaped crown. His brows and eyes shone with spring vitality, his faint smile warm as sunlight.

Li Yuan stepped into the rain on his way to his steward duties. After two months of seclusion, his cultivation had advanced again.

Before leaving, he had even checked the mirror—something he rarely did—and found his appearance subtly changed. More remarkable was his temperament: no longer the air of a youth, but of a gentle young scholar, calm and refined, soft like flowing water.

Li Yuan thought of his cultivation art, the Way of Yuan Water. Surely this change was its influence.

He felt a spark of joy—this was a sign his technique was deepening. His blood refinement was shifting from inner organs to external blood, naturally causing the Yuan Water energy to alter his outward demeanor.

Lifting his gaze to the rain-drenched hills, flowers were blooming everywhere. Spring rain upon the flowers, stirring a mountain of spring colors.

He entered the sweltering, dimly lit Earthfire Chamber.

Seasons turned, and another five years slipped by. By now, Li Yuan was thirty-five years old.

Inside the Earthfire Chamber, his skill had become polished. Fan of Ice and Fire in hand, he controlled the furnace flames. Beside him was Elder Bai Yizi of Lingfeng, a man who had broken through to late-stage just three years ago, now over one hundred forty years old.

This elder treated him kindly, even with a touch of care.

With a final hand seal, Bai Yizi collected a newly forged Jia-wood puppet, exhaling deeply. "Li boy, rest for a while."

Li Yuan happily obeyed, cooling the furnace with a sweep of his fan, smiling. "Many thanks for your consideration, Elder."

"Ah, we're the same kind of people," Bai Yizi said, motioning him closer. "I too was a rootless cultivator, toiling all my life for the sake of cultivation. At last I have reached the late stage, fulfilling my lifelong wish.

In a few years, once I've saved enough spirit stones, I'll return to the lowlands, live as a wealthy man, and enjoy the remainder of my life.

When I see you, I feel you're much like me."

Li Yuan answered, "Elder, you've already reached the late stage, with sixty years of life left. Why not attempt to break through—?"

"No need." Bai Yizi shook his head with a bitter smile. "When I was young, I dreamed of establishing a Foundation, gaining five hundred years of life, admired by all.

But now I know—the gap between late-stage Qi Refining and true Foundation Establishment is vast.

In ancient times, cultivation realms were far clearer than now. Early, middle, and late Qi Refining were distinct: Washing Marrow, Moving Blood, Condensing Bone. Only after those three steps could one even be considered half a true cultivator. Foundation Establishment was then called Dao Foundation.

Wash away impurities, shed mortal blood, condense immortal bone. Only then could one hope to establish the Dao foundation, open the supreme path, and seek long life.

But now, with the world's rare treasures scarce and spiritual opportunities dwindling, divine powers are almost impossible to cultivate. Without divine powers, one's inner laws conflict with heaven's laws—failure means certain death!

Among Qi Refining cultivators who attempt Foundation Establishment, fewer than one in a hundred succeed!"

Even though Li Yuan had inherited a secret art, his heart sank. One in a hundred… will I be that one?

He forced a laugh: "This disciple has no such lofty ambitions. Perhaps, like you, Elder, I too will descend the mountain in old age and enjoy wealth."

Bai Yizi looked relieved. "You understand retreat as well as advance—that is wise. I even have a daughter, just past twenty, of lower-grade roots and not yet married. I wonder if you—"

Li Yuan nearly choked. So this was the elder's intention—to make him a son-in-law!

Fortunately, a voice rang out outside: "Elder, this disciple has come for steward duties!"

Bai Yizi chuckled, "Think it over, Li boy. No rush. You've worked hard for two months—go rest now."

"Yes, Elder!" Li Yuan bowed and left.

Returning to his courtyard, he quickly cast aside the matter, collapsing into a full day of rest.

He had no intention of taking a wife or cultivating a Dao companion. His life as an orphan had taught him—no one in this world was truly trustworthy. Even a wife sharing his bed might, one day, drive a sword into his heart.

On the third day, the first day of the fifth month, it was his turn again to attend at the Lecture Platform.

Groups of disciples stood about—some bleary-eyed, others silently meditating. There were at least seventy or eighty in total.

Standing among them, Li Yuan couldn't help but think the sect had been recruiting far too many disciples in recent years.

In the past, every three years, the three provinces and Yunzhou City together might only produce twenty or thirty new disciples.

But now, just one monthly gathering produced so many, not counting those absent, those on missions, or those lazy enough to skip.

Even if the sect was expanding, wasn't this too fast?

This doubt had already lingered in Li Yuan's heart for years.

"Hey, look—Li Yunming is here!"

"The Patriarch's personal disciple!"

At once, the crowd's gaze turned to the young man in white.

"Mid-stage Qi Refining!"

"What? Are you sure? He's not even thirty yet!"

"That's the terrifying speed of Earth-grade roots!"

"Truly, comparison only brings despair…"

The disciples whispered endlessly.

Li Yuan too looked curiously. The white-robed youth stood aloof, one hand clasped behind his back, coldly ignoring everyone. His aura kept would-be flatterers at bay.

With unhurried steps, he came before the crowd. White as snow, eyes bright as stars, elegant as a jade tree—his presence was dazzling.

He clasped his hands in greeting, his voice cold and clear like winter snow:

"Today, the elders are busy. I will guide cultivation in their place. I ask for your instruction, fellow brothers and sisters."

Everyone knew his exalted status and limitless future, so none dared slight him. They returned his salute in unison.

Li Yunming then began to demonstrate. His Mysterious Qi Palm flowed flawlessly, natural as drifting snow. No one could take their eyes off him.

Li Yuan, near the front, practiced along with the group. He had trained this technique countless times over decades, to the point of mastery.

Yet as he watched Li Yunming's display, his heart stirred. What if I fused this palm technique with the spiritual force of the Lower Yuan True Art?

The thought flashed by. For now, he merely completed the three rounds with the group.

Afterwards, Li Yunming clasped his hands again. "Brothers and sisters, I take my leave."

White mist gathered under his feet. In an instant, he rose skyward, flying away—drawing gasps and chatter from the disciples.

His brilliance utterly eclipsed the dozens present.

Li Yuan was about to return to his courtyard when he overheard some disciples whispering about monthly stipends. Curious, he paused to listen.

"Brother Wang, are you sure about this?" one asked in disbelief.

"Of course! I tell you, this will be announced soon. Steward disciples are blessed! Not only will resources double, but spirit stones too. I don't know what the elders are thinking!

The number of disciples in the mountains increases daily. Even if spirit stones aren't scarce, such extravagance is strange."

"You don't understand. Elders stand higher, see farther. Their vision isn't ours to compare."

Li Yuan's heart grew heavy. With his past-life experience, he recognized the signs of preparation for war.

In the Guangyuan Mountains, only four major powers existed: the Wang clan of Bronze Mountain, the Xu clan of Qinghe, Qingfeng Pavilion, and Qiling Sect. The rest were scattered cultivators, hunting beasts to survive.

There were no great enemies nearby. If the four fought, it would be one against three—no one dared act rashly. With interests aligned, they shouldn't wage war.

So who was Qiling Sect preparing to fight? Only two possibilities:

Not humans. Or… enemies fallen from the heavens.

The second was unlikely—such knowledge could not come so early.

Then it could only be the first.

Li Yuan grew worried. If he had another twenty or thirty years of peace, his Lower Yuan True Art would bring him to late-stage, condensing immortal bone. Coupled with the secret arts of Water Between the Clouds, he would have a real chance to protect himself.

Returning to his cave, he willed himself into the Ten Thousand Wood Realm. Passing through the ancient stone archway, an empty field stretched out before him, where eleven towering puppets stood—nine Jia-wood puppets and two Yi-wood puppets.

Looking at them, his heart steadied. With so many puppets, even an ordinary late-stage cultivator would struggle. Though his own power was the weakest among mid-stage peers, with these puppets, the difference was heaven and earth.

In these years, he had grown increasingly skilled at crafting Jia-wood puppets. He even managed, with great difficulty, to forge two Yi-wood puppets—though the success rate was abysmally low.

Such results revealed the brilliance of Qiling Sect's heritage. Each puppet was broken into dozens of specialized steps, each performed by dedicated craftsmen over long periods. With enough repetition, anyone could achieve proficiency, lowering difficulty and raising success rates.

Months later, deep bells resounded across Qiling Sect's mountains, shaking the heavens, echoing for hundreds of miles. Birds burst into flight as disciples scrambled to their feet.

The bells tolled forty-nine times.

Either death, or a great calamity had arrived.

(End of Chapter)

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