The early morning mist hung over the wilderness of the Ye Clan's back mountain like a heavy, translucent veil. Dewdrops on the blades of grass shimmered with a faint, silvery light under the first rays of dawn, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles.
Ye Qian stepped into the wild, the rusted Tang blade strapped firmly to his back. His footsteps were steady yet light, barely leaving an imprint on the soft soil. Although he had already mastered the explosive power of the Fourth Stage of Body Tempering, he knew deep in his soul that raw strength was nothing without the refinement of combat. To truly grow, he needed to forge a perfect harmony between his blade and his body.
In this desolate expanse, there were no judgmental eyes or cruel whispers. There was only the howling wind, the distant chirping of birds, and the hidden predators lurking in the shadows. Ye Qian reached an open clearing, took a deep breath, and slowly drew the Tang blade. The steel sang softly as it left the scabbard. Though mottled with rust, the blade felt solid and heavy in his grip, fitting into the palm of his hand as if it were a natural extension of his own arm.
He began with the Basic Blade Scripture.
Draw. Horizontal Slash. Vertical Cleave. Reverse Spin.
He followed every instruction on the scroll with absolute precision. With the foundation of the Fourth Stage, every swing of the blade carried a heavy, oppressive momentum. The air hissed as the steel cut through it. While his technique was not yet fluid, the sheer speed and power behind each strike were undeniable.
"The Fifth Stage... I can feel it. It's right behind the veil of battle," Ye Qian whispered to himself. He closed his eyes, sensing the vibration in every muscle, bone, and joint. Every time the blade sliced through the air, the micro-vibrations traveling up the hilt allowed him to map out the distribution of his strength. He was no longer just swinging metal; he was learning to control the very flow of his power.
Suddenly, the grass rustled violently. A massive wilderness wolf leaped from the thicket, its eyes locked onto Ye Qian with lethal intent. Its fangs glinted in the dim light, and its claws tore into the damp earth, kicking up clumps of mud as it launched itself forward like a grey bolt of lightning.
Ye Qian's eyes snapped open. He didn't panic. He shifted his weight, dropping his center of gravity. His right hand gripped the hilt while his left stayed open for balance.
The wolf's first strike was a desperate lunge at his shoulder. Ye Qian retreated half a step, bringing the Tang blade up in a swift parry. CLANG! The wolf's claws struck the flat of the blade, sending a jolt of energy through Ye Qian's arms. He didn't buckle; instead, he used the vibration to gauge the beast's strength.
The wolf snarled, landing and immediately lunging for his throat. Ye Qian moved with a grace he had never possessed before. He guarded his face with his left forearm and swung the blade downward in a counter-strike. The edge scraped against the wolf's shoulder, producing a sharp, metallic screech as it brushed against the coarse fur and bone.
As the fight intensified, the Basic Blade Scripture ceased to be a set of rigid movements. It began to melt into a rhythm of survival. Ye Qian's breathing synchronized with his footwork. He used the momentum of the wolf's attacks to propel his own movements, spinning and dodging with a fluidity that made him look like a leaf caught in a gale. He even used the back of the blade to deflect a lethal swipe, the impact echoing through the clearing.
He could feel his potential stirring deep within his marrow. The Fourth Stage was no longer enough; his body was screaming for more.
After dozens of exchanges, the wolf grew cautious. It circled him, sensing the shifting aura of its prey. Ye Qian stood in the center of the clearing, and in that moment of stillness, everything clicked. His breathing, his pulse, the weight of the blade, and the circulation of his internal Qi became one single, unified entity.
"Break for me!" Ye Qian roared internally.
He dropped into a cross-legged position right there on the battlefield, closing his eyes. He didn't care about the wolf; he cared only about the iron wall inside his body. He pushed his mental intent and his physical energy to the absolute limit.
The world around him seemed to freeze. The howling of the wind, the growl of the beast, and the rustle of the leaves all faded into a dull hum. He directed every ounce of his Qi into a single point, smashing it against the bottleneck of the Fifth Stage.
BOOM.
A silent explosion rocked his consciousness. The barrier didn't just break—it shattered into a million pieces.
A wave of intense heat washed through his body, followed by a sensation of pure, crystalline power. His bones hummed with a new density, and his muscles felt as though they had been woven from steel cables. But then came the classic mark of a true breakthrough: a thick, foul-smelling black sludge began to seep out of his pores. These were the impurities of years of neglect and the "trash" constitution he had been born with. As the sludge emerged, he felt a lightness he had never known.
Stage Five of Body Tempering: The Refined Bone Stage.
Ye Qian rose slowly. His movements were now terrifyingly efficient. He spun the Tang blade in a tight circle, the steel whistling with a sharp, clear note that seemed to cut the very air. He felt a sense of absolute clarity. His reactions were faster, his strength more stable, and his connection to his blade was now unbreakable.
The wilderness trial continued, but the power balance had shifted. When a second wolf emerged to assist its packmate, Ye Qian didn't retreat. He stepped forward, his blade flashing like a streak of cold moonlight. Every lunge from the wolves was met with a precise parry; every opening they left resulted in a punishing strike. He wasn't just defending; he was dominating.
After several more rounds, the wolves realized the boy was no longer a meal—he was a reaper. They whimpered and slunk back into the deep shadows of the brush, their predatory instincts overruled by pure terror.
Ye Qian stood under the morning sun, his skin covered in the dark impurities of his breakthrough, but his eyes were burning with a fierce, golden light. He breathed in the cold air, feeling the Stage Five power coursing through his veins like a river of fire. Every breath felt like a perfectly tuned machine at work.
He sheathed the blade with a crisp clack.
He had done it. He had moved from the Fourth Stage to the Fifth, bridging the gap through blood and steel. He looked out over the vast wilderness, his heart filled with an unwavering resolve. This was only the beginning. He would continue to temper his blade and his body until the name "trash" was nothing but a distant memory, replaced by the legend of a true powerhouse.
As the morning wind brushed past him, Ye Qian's silhouette stood tall and imposing against the horizon. He was no longer just a boy in a shack; he was a hunter who had found his claws, ready to carve his own path through a world that had tried to bury him.