Over the next month, Lin Feng's life changed beyond recognition.
He moved into a spiritual courtyard reserved only for core disciples. The cultivation resources he received each month were more than a hundred times what he'd ever had before.
Those stewards who once ignored him now greeted him with flattering smiles, and the same fellow disciples who used to avoid him were suddenly eager to make friends.
But Lin Feng remained calm and cautious.
He politely declined the Grand Elder's offer to take him in as a personal disciple, claiming that his foundation was still unstable and he needed time to consolidate.
The decision shocked many—but it also kept him out of the sect's complicated power struggles. Lin Feng knew all too well: the secrets he carried were too great to expose.
He devoted nearly all his time to cultivation.
With the help of the mysterious lightning mark and his transformed aptitude, his strength grew at a terrifying pace. Within just one month, he had stabilized at the Fifth Layer of the Body Refining Realm—a speed that left others dumbstruck.
Yet only Lin Feng knew this progress came at a cost: the lightning mark within his dantian was growing dimmer by the day.
He needed to find another source of energy—or unravel the mark's mystery—before it was too late.
That day, Lin Feng decided to visit the Scripture Tower.
He sought not only a thunder cultivation method to help him control and disguise his powers, but also ancient texts that might mention multiple spirit roots or mysterious internal seals.
The tower stood seven stories high, its eaves and corners steeped in the scent of time. Holding his new core disciple token, Lin Feng entered the first four levels unimpeded.
Shelves of jade slips and scrolls stretched endlessly before him. Ignoring the common fire and wind techniques, he went straight to the thunder section—but disappointment soon followed.
Thunder spirit roots were far too rare, and so were the corresponding techniques. Most were of Yellow Rank, weak in power and restrictive in use.
He picked up a jade slip titled "Lightning Induction Technique."
After scanning it with his divine sense, he shook his head and put it back. It was too crude—drawing upon ordinary thunder energy, nothing like the pure, destructive lightning within him.
He checked several more, but none were satisfactory.
"It seems the sect's accumulation in thunder arts is truly shallow," Lin Feng mused.
He was about to leave when his gaze fell upon a dusty corner shelf, piled with neglected relics—damaged scrolls and cracked jade slips that no one had touched in centuries.
Acting on instinct, Lin Feng brushed the dust off a worn beast-skin scroll. Its surface was cool to the touch, the edges frayed. Unrolling it revealed a faded map covered with strange terrain symbols and ancient runes long lost to history.
Next, he picked up a white jade slip marred by tiny fractures.
When he probed it with his spiritual sense, he met faint resistance—a remnant of a broken seal. Intrigued, Lin Feng channeled a trace of wind energy to his fingertips.
To his surprise, the seal reacted to the wind essence—it resonated softly and dissolved.
A fragmented stream of knowledge surged into his mind—
"Ninefold Windshift" (Incomplete).
"A wind-based movement technique?" Lin Feng murmured.
Although more than half the content was missing, the first three transformations alone revealed astonishing insight—melding body with heaven and earth, borrowing the power of the wind to become swift and unpredictable.
It was far beyond the crude movement arts in the Scripture Tower.
And the control of wind essence it required… faintly touched the edge of the laws of nature.
"A true treasure," Lin Feng's heart raced.
He needed a movement technique—and this one was perfect.
Though incomplete, it could boost his survival, and more importantly, let him conceal his thunder abilities under the guise of a mere wind cultivator.
Composing himself, Lin Feng quietly took the cracked jade slip, added a common thunder art titled "Basic Lightning Chant" as cover, and went to register them.
The Scripture Tower was managed by an old man with a white beard and a sleepy expression.
He seemed utterly ordinary—no spiritual fluctuation, no aura of cultivation—but Lin Feng dared not be disrespectful.
He bowed politely and handed over his jade slips and token.
The old man lazily glanced at "Basic Lightning Chant", then picked up the damaged jade slip. His withered fingers brushed the cracks. After a long moment, his cloudy eyes flicked toward Lin Feng.
"'Ninefold Windshift'… It's a broken scroll. Been sitting here for centuries. No one's ever been able to use it," the old man rasped.
"You've got some luck. But it's incomplete—and without strong wind essence, it'll be near impossible to master. You sure you want this one? The contribution cost isn't small."
Lin Feng's heart skipped. This elder was anything but ordinary.
He bowed again. "Thank you for the warning, Elder. This disciple is… fond of movement arts. I wish to study it."
The elder grunted, deducted the points, and copied the jade slips before closing his eyes again—seemingly drifting back into sleep.
Lin Feng accepted the copies, bowed once more, and left quietly.
Only after his figure vanished beyond the tower's gates did the old man open his eyes again.
A faint gleam flickered within the murk of his pupils as he whispered:
"Wind and thunder intertwined… water and fire unborn… So, the ancient legend truly manifests again. Qingyun Sect… the storm is coming."
His voice was soft as dust, fading into the silence of the hall.
Lin Feng knew none of this.
Holding the jade slips close, he planned his next steps. With Ninefold Windshift, his agility and survivability would soar.
And that ancient map on the beast-skin scroll—though he couldn't decipher it yet—felt… significant.
He memorized its markings carefully.
When he finally returned to his courtyard, two uninvited guests were waiting outside.
The first was a young man in ornate robes, carrying a long sword, his expression smug and arrogant. His aura was sharp—Eighth Layer of Body Refining.
Behind him stood a skinny, rat-faced attendant.
Lin Feng recognized him immediately—Zhao Gan, a disciple from the Grand Elder's faction.
He had been one of Lin Feng's loudest mockers in the past.
"Well, if it isn't our new prodigy, Junior Brother Lin," Zhao Gan sneered, his tone dripping with provocation.
"I heard you've awakened a thunder spirit root. I came to see for myself… maybe exchange a few moves. Let's find out if that 'heaven-grade talent' of yours is really as impressive as they say."
The hostility in his voice was unmistakable.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.