Chapter 27 – Three Portions of Resolve
The door to the small rented room closed with a soft, final click.
For a moment, Hao Tian simply stood there, his back against the wooden planks, listening to the faint noise of the town outside. Voices, footsteps, the distant clang of metal, the living world continuing on as usual.
Then he exhaled slowly.
Silence returned.
On the small table in the center of the room lay everything he had prepared for this moment.
The main herb from the Redfur Ape's den rested inside a jade-lined box, its surface faintly glossy, its medicinal scent thick and deep. Beside it were the subsidiary herbs he had gathered and purchased—each one more ordinary on its own, yet together forming a complete medicinal formula.
Hao Tian looked at them for a long time.
Not with excitement.
Not with greed.
But with a calm that surprised even himself.
So many times before, power had felt like something he had to chase desperately. Something that might slip through his fingers if he hesitated even for a moment. But now, after the forest, after the life-and-death hunts, after standing at the edge of death more times than he cared to count…
He understood something simple.
Rushing only shortened one's road.
He rolled up his sleeves and began.
First, he carefully cleaned each herb, removing dirt, damaged portions, and any impurities. His movements were slow, steady, precise. No wasted motion. No impatience.
Then he took out a small stone mortar.
One by one, he placed the herbs inside.
The main herb went in last.
When the pestle came down, the room filled with a deep, bitter fragrance. He ground the mixture carefully, rotating the pestle in slow circles, controlling the force, making sure the medicinal essence was not damaged.
Time passed quietly.
Outside, day shifted toward evening.
Inside, only the steady rhythm of stone against stone could be heard.
When the mixture had finally become a thick, dark green paste, Hao Tian added a small amount of purified water and mixed it again until the consistency became smooth and uniform.
Only then did he stop.
He stared at the paste for a moment, then took out three small jade containers.
With extreme care, he divided the medicine into three equal portions.
Three chances.
Not one.
Not infinite.
Three.
He sealed each container and lined them up on the table.
According to the method he had obtained, each portion would be used one week apart. Whether he could only reach Low Ninth Stage, or touch the Middle Ninth Stage, would depend on how much of the medicine his body could truly absorb.
Not luck.
Not miracles.
Only foundation.
Only accumulation.
He sat down on the bed and closed his eyes.
For a moment, memories surfaced uninvited.
The starving days.
The cold looks.
The first time he had held a weapon.
The first time he had killed.
The forest filled with blood and roars.
The feeling of being chased, hunted, cornered.
Then, slowly, he let them go.
His breathing became long and steady.
His mind became clear.
He checked his body one last time.
Meridians—stable.
Qi and blood—full.
Foundation—solid.
No hidden injuries.
No lingering instability.
Only then did he open his eyes and reach for the first jade container.
He did not rush.
He did not hesitate either.
He uncorked it, lifted the paste, and swallowed it in one motion.
The taste was bitter. Sharp. Almost burning.
A moment later—
Heat exploded inside his abdomen.
Hao Tian immediately sat in cultivation posture.
The medicinal energy surged like a flood released from a dam, spreading through his limbs, his organs, his meridians, and deep into his bones.
Pain followed.
A familiar pain.
But unlike before, he did not grit his teeth in panic.
He simply endured.
Guided.
Refined.
Controlled.
As the night deepened, his figure remained unmoving, like a statue carved from stone.
Only his breathing proved he was still alive.
And only the slowly thickening aura around him proved that he was changing.
Perfect, I understand you exactly. You want it to read like a real webnovel chapter, not like a segmented report or outline. Continuous, immersive, emotional, and long-form prose with no visible structure breaks.
........
Time gradually lost its meaning inside the small, silent room.
At some point, Hao Tian could no longer tell whether it was day or night. The only things he was aware of were the slow rhythm of his breathing, the burning heat inside his body, and the endless circulation of qi and blood through his meridians. After finishing the first portion of the medicinal paste, his body had been pushed into a state of extreme sensitivity. Every minor fluctuation in energy felt magnified, every heartbeat thundered in his ears, and every breath carried a faint metallic taste.
When he finally regained enough clarity to open his eyes, he realized that three full days had passed.
His clothes were soaked through with sweat and dark, foul-smelling impurities. The air in the room was heavy and unpleasant, but Hao Tian did not care. He slowly clenched his fist, feeling the dense, powerful strength coiled within his muscles. The difference was obvious. His body felt heavier, more solid, as if his flesh and bones had been packed tighter, forged into something far more resilient than before.
But he did not rush.
He knew better now.
The medicine was not something that could simply be swallowed one portion after another like food. Each use left behind violent changes inside the body, and if he did not give himself time to stabilize and fully absorb the effects, he would only be harming his own foundation.
So for the next several days, he did nothing but eat carefully, rest, and circulate his cultivation technique at a slow, steady pace. He guided the remaining medicinal energy through every corner of his body, smoothing out the turbulence it had left behind, allowing his muscles, bones, and internal organs to adapt to their newly refined state.
Only after he was certain that his body had completely digested the gains did he sit down again and take out the second jade container.
The moment the paste touched his tongue and slid down his throat, Hao Tian knew that this time would be different.
The medicinal energy did not spread gently. It exploded outward like a flood breaking through a dam, surging into his limbs, his organs, his bones, and his meridians all at once. A violent heat bloomed inside him, and his body shuddered as if struck by lightning. His breathing instantly became ragged, and a low groan escaped his throat before he could stop himself.
Pain followed.
Not the sharp, fleeting kind, but a deep, grinding agony that felt as though his body was being torn apart from the inside and then forced back together piece by piece.
His muscles cramped violently. His bones emitted faint creaking sounds. His meridians burned as if molten metal was being poured through them.
Blood slowly seeped from the corners of his mouth.
His vision blurred, then darkened at the edges.
Several times, his consciousness wavered on the brink of collapse, and several times he forcibly dragged himself back with sheer willpower. He clenched his teeth until they ached, his jaw trembling as he continued to circulate his technique again and again, refusing to let even a single strand of that medicinal energy go to waste.
This time, the process lasted six days.
Six days in which he drifted in and out of awareness.
Six days in which his world was nothing but burning, tearing, compressing pain.
Six days in which he felt as though he were being reforged by an invisible hammer, again and again, without mercy.
When it finally ended, Hao Tian collapsed onto the floor like a corpse, unable to move even a finger.
He did not know how long he lay there.
When he finally managed to push himself into a sitting position, his entire body felt weak and heavy, yet at the same time, there was a strange, unfamiliar power humming beneath his skin. He closed his eyes and examined himself, and a faint smile slowly appeared on his face.
He had reached the peak of the Eighth Stage of Body Refining.
So close.
Yet still not there.
When he tried to circulate his qi and blood further, he immediately felt it—a vague but undeniable sense of obstruction. It was as though something invisible was standing in his way, something that could not be bypassed or slipped around.
A wall.
A gate.
The boundary to the Ninth Stage.
For the next several days, Hao Tian did nothing but cultivate.
Morning, noon, night—it made no difference. He sat there, again and again guiding his qi and blood toward that unseen barrier, trying to break through it with sheer persistence.
Each time, he failed.
It felt like striking a mountain with bare hands. No matter how much strength he gathered, no matter how many times he tried, the result was always the same. The wall did not move. Not even a little.
His body had already reached the absolute limit of what the Eighth Stage could contain.
But the Ninth Stage was different.
It was not merely more strength.
It was a fundamental change.
To step into it meant that the body would begin to truly unify qi and blood into a complete cycle, laying the groundwork for real cultivation in the future. That kind of transformation was not something that could be achieved through stubbornness alone.
On the ninth day, Hao Tian opened his eyes and looked at the third jade container.
He did not reach for it immediately.
He simply looked at it in silence for a long time.
Then he closed his eyes again and continued to regulate his breathing and circulation, carefully adjusting his condition until his body, mind, and energy were all at their absolute peak.
Only then did he finally open the container.
The third portion of the medicine did not explode with violence like the second.
Instead, it sank deep into his body like a heavy tide.
And then it began to compress.
Every muscle fiber tightened. Every bone felt as though it were being squeezed by an invisible force. Even his internal organs seemed to be under pressure, and his heartbeat gradually grew heavier and slower, each thump echoing in his ears like a drum.
His skin flushed red, then slowly darkened toward purple. Veins bulged across his arms and neck, writhing like twisted ropes beneath his skin. His bones began to emit faint, continuous cracking sounds—not the sound of breaking, but of something being forced into a denser, more compact form.
His breathing became labored.
His vision swam.
His consciousness began to blur.
And in that blurring, he felt it.
That gate.
That boundary.
He gathered everything he had.
His breath.
His strength.
His will.
The countless moments of danger, of struggle, of walking on the edge of death since he had entered this world.
And he pushed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The wall did not move.
Blood surged in his ears. His body trembled violently, and a sharp pain shot through his chest. For a moment, despair flickered in his heart.
Then his eyes hardened.
He pushed again.
This time, with everything.
Something inside him gave way.
There was no thunderous explosion, no dramatic flash of light. It was more like the sudden collapse of a long-standing obstruction, a deep, internal shattering that rippled through his entire body.
In that instant, Hao Tian felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
The circulation of qi and blood changed, flowing more smoothly, more completely, forming a unified cycle that felt fundamentally different from before.
He had stepped into the Ninth Stage of Body Refining.
He did not move.
He did not celebrate.
He simply continued to cultivate, guiding this new, unfamiliar state again and again, stabilizing it, reinforcing it, making it truly his own.
Three days passed like that.
When he finally opened his eyes again, his gaze was calm and clear, and the aura around his body felt far heavier and more grounded than before.
But he could also feel it.
He was close.
Very close.
Close enough that it was almost painful.
So he did not stop.
He continued to push.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Without recklessness.
Day after day, he tried to advance further, trying to touch the threshold of the middle level of the Ninth Stage.
His progress was real.
But it was also painfully slow.
In the end, he stopped.
When he opened his eyes, he let out a long, slow breath.
He had reached the absolute peak of the low level of the Ninth Stage.
One step away.
But still not across.
Instead of frustration, a quiet understanding settled in his heart.
He finally truly understood that cultivation was not a road that could be forced forever. Some walls required time, preparation, and the right opportunities.
He stood up and tested his strength.
The difference compared to before was enormous.
If his former self stood in front of him now, the outcome would not even be a fight.
He would be crushed.
But he also knew that from this point onward, progress would only become harder.
Resources would matter more.
So would methods.
And so would money.
He sat down and thought quietly.
To break through to the middle level of the Ninth Stage, he would need a pill or some special treasure.
And now that he had reached the Ninth Stage, he could finally see himself making use of the sword when he gets to qi refining.
An ordinary sword would no longer be enough after he gets advances.
He looked out the window at the clear sky and made his decision.
Tomorrow, he would return to town.
He closed his eyes, not to cultivate, but to rest.
For once.