Every one returned to their resting place.
The village was now quiet. Snow covered the roofs, muffling all sound. The crimson lanterns outside burned faintly, their light blurred through the falling snowflakes.
---
The next morning, the first day of the new year, the snow still fell. Thin layers of frost clung to the window frames, and the air was sharp and cold.
Fu Yang stood outside the small courtyard, practicing his breathing technique. Each exhale came out as white mist. His movements were steady, controlled — no wasted motion, no unnecessary strength. Master Wan watched him silently from the porch, a cup of tea in his hand.
"Again," Master Wan said.
Fu Yang adjusted his stance and repeated the form. His body felt heavier than usual, the air thicker, but he didn't stop. He knew Master Wan was pushing him harder now — not out of anger, but because something in his master had changed after last night.
Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps frustration. Or perhaps, as Fu Yang suspected, a quiet fire had been lit in Master Wan's heart.
"Your strength is growing," Master Wan finally said. "But don't rely only on that. A cultivator who has no control over his emotions will never stand firm in the storms ahead."
Fu Yang bowed slightly. "I understand."
The training continued for several hours, until sweat froze on Fu Yang's forehead and his limbs ached. When Master Wan finally dismissed him, he returned to his room in silence, his breath still steady.
Days passed like this. The snow continued to fall. The village returned to its usual rhythm — disciples training, masters giving lessons, and the distant bells ringing each dawn and dusk.
For Fu Yang, each day blurred into the next: training, meditation, and silence. He didn't complain.
---
That night, the sky was a deep indigo, and the moon was hidden behind thick clouds. Fu Yang's room was dark except for a single flickering candle.
He had already prepared everything — a bowl of water, a set of clean clothes, and a folded towel placed neatly beside the bed.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, his breathing calm. Outside, the wind howled faintly, rattling the window shutters. Inside, the only sound was the slow rhythm of his heartbeat.
Fu Yang had been cultivating for hours. The impurities in his body was comming out of every where covering his whole body and was grease like.
He had reached this point before — the thin line between progress and stagnation. But tonight felt different. His entire body trembled slightly, not from pain, but from the immense pressure building inside.
He gritted his teeth and continued, guiding the flow of impurities out. A faint light shimmered around him — dim, but steady.
Minutes turned into hours. The candle burned low, then finally went out, leaving the room in complete darkness.
And then —
Bang!
A faint sound echoed inside his body, like the crack of breaking ice. A surge of warmth rushed through him. His breathing deepened, his senses sharpened, and the pressure that had weighed on him for days suddenly vanished.
He opened his eyes. For a moment, the world around him felt utterly still. His body was much more stronger.
Fu Yang let out a slow breath. "End stage of the skin Tempering…" he whispered to himself.
The impurities within his body began to surface. A faint, foul smell filled the room, and dark residue on his skin. His entire body was sticky with it. But he didn't care — a faint smile crossed his face for the first time in days.
He had done it.
Fu Yang stood and walked to the bowl of water, pouring it over himself. The cold water bit into his skin, washing away the dark residue. He changed into clean clothes, though the faint smell still lingered.
He glanced at the dirty water, now blackened from the impurities. "It's enough for now," he muttered. His body felt lighter, his spirit calmer.
He lay down on his bed, exhaustion finally catching up with him. Within moments, he was asleep.
---
At dawn, he woke again. The snow outside had stopped, and pale sunlight filtered through the paper window. The air was cold enough that his breath turned white.
He sat up, looked at the bowl beside his bed, and frowned slightly. The water had turned dark overnight, a sign of the remaining impurities. He stood, lifted it carefully, and stepped outside.
The courtyard was quiet, no one around. He poured the dirty water into the snow and watched it vanish into the white ground. Then, without wasting time, he fetched a new bowl of clean water and snow and returned to his room.
He washed again — twice, until the smell faded enough that no one would notice.
He changed into another robe, this one plain and dark, and looked at himself in the mirror. Nothing seemed different from before. His aura was restrained, his face calm. But deep inside, he could feel it — the strength, the energy, the steady pulse of his cultivation that had advanced another step.
Fu Yang exhaled slowly. "No one can know," he whispered. He had to be careful.
If others found out that he had broken through so quickly, it would raise too many questions. The clan's politics were delicate; talent often brought danger as much as praise.
He sat down again and closed his eyes. The last traces of fatigue faded from his mind.
Outside, the bells began to ring, signaling the start of a new day.
Fu Yang stood up, straightened his robe, and left the room. His expression was calm, as if nothing had changed.
But inside — deep within the quiet rhythm of his heart — he knew that this was only the beginning.
The path ahead was still long, and he could already sense that something was stirring beyond the calm snow.
But for now, he would keep training, waiting for his chance.
.....
Fu Yang spent the rest of the morning in silence. After washing, he cleaned the floor carefully, wiping away every trace of the dark residue that had come out of his body. The faint smell still clung to the air, but with incense burning near the window, it would fade before anyone noticed.
Outside, the accademy was unusually quiet. Snow lay heavy on the roofs, and the air held that stillness that comes right before another storm.
It had been eight days since the banquet.
Many of the inner disciples had already gone into seclusion. After the New Year gathering, everyone felt the pressure to improve. The competition between factions was clear now — every master wanted their disciples to advance quickly, to prove their faction's worth before the next sect assessment.
Fu Yang heard the rumors from passing servants. Cin Yan, Shi Tian, and Sha Tian had all entered closed-door cultivation the night before. Each of them was trying to break through into the intermediate stage of the Tempering Realm.
But unlike Fu Yang, they would need at least three full days.
Those disciples had better resources, richer spiritual pills, and warmer cultivation rooms, but their progress was slower. Their bodies were strong, but their foundations heavy, burdened by too much energy and not enough control.
Fu Yang's approach was different, and had advanced techniques. But the only problem was that his whole body would be covered with disgusting grease, which was not a problem for him.
And for others their impurities only comes out through breathing and this was why fu yangs cultivation was fast.
.
He then tightened his belt and went outside.
The snow crunched under his boots as he walked through the quiet courtyard. Disciples passed by in groups, whispering. A few glanced at him — some with curiosity, others with faint contempt.
Fu Yang didn't react. He walked toward the practice field where morning drills were held, but found it empty. Most inner disciples were still in seclusion, and the few outer ones training there stopped their movements briefly when they saw him.
He picked a quiet spot and began his routine, slow and steady.
By the time he finished, sweat glistened on his skin despite the cold. He took a deep breath, exhaled white mist, and sat down to meditate.
From afar, a few outer disciples watched him curiously. They didn't understand how someone from Master Wan's faction — the least favored in the entire sect — could train with such composure.
One whispered, "Isn't that Fu Yang?"
Another nodded. "Yeah, Master Wan's disciple. Strange, he's always alone, did he already broke through"
" Nah, how can he, when other talented deciples hadn't, i believe he is afraid even to give it a try, haha "
They talked between themselves but didn't linger long. In the hierarchy of the clan, even outer disciples knew when not to draw attention. They left quietly, and Fu Yang continued his practice until the sun reached its peak.
---
Meanwhile, within a sealed chamber glowing faintly with blue talismans, Cin Yan sat cross-legged in meditation. Her body glowed faintly, the light pulsing with her heartbeat. Sweat traced down her temples, but her breathing stayed calm.
Beside her, two small jade bottles lay open — pills half-melted within. She gritted her teeth, pushing it downward, trying to stabilize the flow.
"Almost there…" she murmured.
Her foundation was strong, but she was forcing a barrier. It would take at least another day before she could reach the intermediate stage safely.
Elsewhere, in the stone chambers beneath Master Shen's quarters, Shi Tian and Sha Tian were both in seclusion as well.
The two brothers trained separately but at the same time, their chambers side by side. Sha Tian's breathing was steady,but Shi Tian's was violent — the air inside his room trembled with each pulse of his energy.
He was frustrated. Ever since the banquet, he couldn't stop thinking about Fu Yang standing quietly beside Master Wan while others praised Master Lian and himself.
That silence — that calm expression — it bothered him more than mockery ever could.
"I'll beat the shit out of him," he muttered through clenched teeth. "No matter what it takes."
..
.
Three days. That was the minimum time they needed to break through.
---
Back in Master Wan's courtyard, Fu Yang finished his training and sat under the small plum tree, staring at the snow gathering on its branches.
Master Wan appeared soon after, his hands folded behind his back. "You've been up early again," he said.
Fu Yang nodded. "Yes, Master."
Wan studied him for a moment. "Your spirit seems… steadier. Did something happen?"
Fu Yang's expression didn't change. "No, Master. I've only been cultivating as you . "Good. Keep it that way. The others are in seclusion — let them chase their own pace. You, on the other hand, must build your foundation properly."
"Yes."
Wan turned away, looking at the distant peaks covered in fog. "Remember, Fu Yang — no one notices quiet progress until it's too late. When they do, you must already be beyond their reach."
Fu Yang bowed his head slightly. "I understand."
When Master Wan left. Not knowing the deciple was already on the end stage.
But then fu yang thought about the others — Cin Yan, Shi Tian, Sha Tian — all locked away, chasing advancement.
To them, cultivation was a competition of speed and resources. But To him, it was survival.