Sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, casting shafts of light onto a crystal-clear lake so still it looked like a mirror of the sky. At its center, floating face-up, was a fifteen-year-old youth.
His body was a work of precision and balance: compact muscles, defined exactly where they should be, without excess or weakness. It was not a bulky physique, but a sharp one, refined through constant effort. Every line suggested restrained power, as if beneath that skin lay a force capable of unleashing devastating violence at any moment.
Yet that perfection was far from intact.
Dark bruises stained his skin—some fresh, others already turning yellow. Shallow cuts traced his arms, shoulders, and ribs, scars still red that spoke of repeated blows and merciless falls. Were it not for those marks, he might have looked like a statue carved by divine hands; with them, however, he exuded a fierce, wild aura, like that of a young beast forged through pain.
For long seconds, he remained motionless, letting the cold water support him.
Then, his eyelids opened.
A pair of golden eyes emerged into the light, clear and deep, reflecting the sky fragmented by leaves. The youth released a long breath, one that seemed to have been held for far too long, as if expelling fatigue, tension… and something heavier.
The water rippled gently around him.
With a calm motion, he turned his body and began swimming toward the shore.
Jin emerged fully from the lake and planted a firm foot on the bank. The cold water still clung to his skin, but he paid it no mind. First, he stretched leisurely, raising his arms, rolling his shoulders and waist, letting his muscles protest with a dull, familiar ache. Every movement made the recent punishment evident—but also showed that his body was already adapting to it.
After that, he found a nearby flat rock and sat down in a lotus position.
He closed his eyes.
Qi began to circulate naturally through his meridians—stable, obedient. A gentle warmth spread from his dantian, flowing through his torso and limbs. Steam slowly rose from his skin as the water evaporated, until his body was completely dry, as if he had never been submerged in the lake at all.
Jin opened his eyes and stood.
He walked over to where he had left his clothes: trousers and a tunic folded carelessly atop a rock. He put them on with calm, practiced movements, then took a simple dark cord. Raising his hands, he gathered his long hair—interwoven shades of gold and black—and carefully tied it into a ponytail that fell down his back.
As he tightened the knot, he couldn't help but frown.
"Tch…" he muttered to himself. "Senior Sister Mei… she really went too far this time."
He recalled the training—the sharp clang of metal, the constant, relentless impacts. His mouth twisted into a grimace somewhere between complaint and resignation.
"Just because I managed to brush her clothes with the spear…" he continued, clearly indignant. "Was it really necessary to beat me that brutally?"
He finished adjusting the cord and let his arms fall, glancing toward the lake.
"She definitely took it personally…" he added quietly, sighing as the persistent ache in his body seemed to confirm every word.
Jin walked along the path that led back toward the sect's main routes, the soft sound of his footsteps mingling with the murmur of wind through the trees. As he walked, his thoughts naturally drifted back, reviewing the eight months that had passed almost without him noticing.
Time… truly flew.
At the beginning, training with Senior Sister Mei had been pure hell. Wooden weapons, blunt strikes, merciless corrections. Every mistake was punished without pity. But gradually—without him even realizing when the change occurred—the wooden weapons gave way to mundane metal ones. The weight was different, the balance more demanding, and every impact carried a much clearer intent: to injure.
And that wasn't all.
Mei had also intervened directly in his Qi cultivation.
As he walked, Jin consciously let his Qi flow. The energy surged from his dantian like a calm yet steady river, coursing through his meridians with near-perfect precision. It traveled up his back, down his legs, rose through his torso, and extended into his arms. There were no blockages, no turbulence. Each cycle was smooth and efficient, as if his body had been designed for it.
A soft exhale escaped his lips.
Eight months of grueling training, constant pain, falls, and brutal corrections… and the result was right there.
"Seventh level of Qi Condensation…" he thought, a mix of disbelief and restrained satisfaction coloring his mind.
If someone had told him this at the start, he wouldn't have believed it. For someone with his "talent," advancing this far in such a short time wasn't just rare—it was unexpected even by the most optimistic standards.
Jin lifted his gaze toward the sect paths stretching out before him.
The past had flown by.
As he walked, Jin released a slow breath, and among all the memories of those eight months, one stood out with absolute clarity.
If he had to point out the most important thing from that time… it wasn't the beatings, nor the weapons training, nor even the advancement of his Qi.
It was Senior Sister Mei's help with his body cultivation method.
The Jade Dragon Body.
Jin lightly clenched his fingers, feeling the firmness now dwelling beneath his skin. It wasn't an illusion. His body was different.
From what she herself had mentioned—during one of those rare moments when she spoke of her past—when she had still been in Qi Condensation, she had trained the Jade Peak's primary body cultivation method… and also its most difficult one. She had managed to bring it to the second level, but stopped there. Unable to advance further, she had eventually switched methods.
Even so, that did not make her teachings any less valuable.
Quite the opposite.
Senior Sister Mei's precision was terrifying.
Every strike she delivered during training was deliberate. Each impact landed exactly where it needed to: specific muscles, tension points, areas where Qi had to be forcibly circulated. Her control was so fine that Jin began to suspect she understood his body better than he did himself.
Thanks to that, his progress had been stable… brutal… and effective.
"If it weren't for her…" he thought, a slight grimace crossing his face.
Without that surgical precision in striking the required points, training the Jade Dragon Body would have been reckless suicide. But with Mei guiding him—even through blows—Jin had managed to solidify every step.
Now he knew it for certain.
He had reached the peak of the first level of the Jade Dragon Body.
There were no cracks, no obvious weaknesses left. His flesh was dense, his bones resilient, and beneath his skin pulsed a restrained, silent strength—like a sleeping dragon waiting for the right moment to awaken.
Jin raised his head, his golden eyes glinting faintly.
Reaching the second level of the Jade Dragon Body was only a matter of time.
A short while later.
Jin passed through the area where the outer disciples' cabins were lined up, a place that felt almost foreign despite having lived there for months. The dirt paths, the simple wooden and stone structures, and the distant murmur of other disciples formed a familiar landscape… yet to him, it felt like returning to somewhere he had left behind long ago.
During those months of training, he had barely interacted with anyone.
The few times he did were mostly with Brother Lian Xuan.
As Jin recalled his face while walking, he couldn't help but frown slightly.
Lian Xuan was only at the fifth level of Qi Condensation.
That was… puzzling.
Not out of disdain, but simple logic. In terms of talent, Lian Xuan should have advanced faster than him. Jin had never seen him impatient or careless; on the contrary, his cultivation was solid and methodical.
"Maybe… he chose a more stable path," Jin thought. "Or maybe he simply never forced anything."
He shook his head and kept walking.
Soon, he arrived in front of his own cabin.
The door creaked softly as it opened. The interior was just as austere as ever: a simple bed, a table, and little else. Without wasting time, Jin crouched down, reached under the bed, and pulled out a bag he had kept there for months.
He held it for a moment, as if weighing its contents.
Then he left the cabin without looking back.
His steps carried him out of the residential area and onto paths that gradually led away from the cabins. He walked for several minutes.
Yes—minutes.
Before, that same route would have taken him hours. Now, with his cultivation advanced, his stride was steady, light, almost effortless. Each step covered a distance that would once have seemed absurd.
The wind brushed against his tunic as he moved toward a particular place.
Jin stopped in front of an imposing hall, built almost entirely from dark gray stone with metallic accents. It wasn't as vast or majestic as the Alchemy Peak's shop he had once seen, but it still commanded respect at a glance.
Above the entrance, carved in firm, angular strokes, stood three large characters:
Eternal Steel Peak Branch.
Eternal Steel Peak did not specialize in pills or mystical techniques.
Its focus was clear and direct: the creation of artifacts and weapons of all kinds.
Jin took a few more steps forward and looked up, calmly observing the structure.
"So… this is it," he thought.
And why was he in a place like this?
The answer was simple.
Senior Sister Mei's words still echoed clearly in his mind.
"Personal training is over."
"From now on, you need real experience."
"Before accepting a mission outside the sect, obtain a suitable weapon."
Jin lightly tightened his grip on the bag he carried.
For eight months, he had trained without rest. He had strengthened his body, refined his Qi control, and polished his weapon handling… but most of that had been done with practice weapons or mundane metal.
If he was going to leave the sect.
If he was going to face the outside world.
Then he needed more than technique.
He needed a real weapon.
Jin crossed the threshold of the hall and, for a moment, was slightly surprised.
The interior was far more elegant than he had imagined.
The dark stone walls were meticulously polished, streaked with metallic veins that gleamed softly under the light of matrices embedded in the ceiling. The space was broad and orderly, without a trace of the chaos one might expect from a place dedicated to forging.
On both sides of the hall, glass display cases stood in strategic positions—spaced far enough to allow room, yet arranged so that all were visible from the center. Inside them were weapons of every kind.
Long and short swords, their blades reflecting light.
Bows of refined design.
Spears, halberds, axes… even heavy war hammers, brutal in appearance yet etched with fine engravings that spoke of careful craftsmanship.
Some weapons emitted a faint glow.
They were not simple objects.
Jin walked forward at an unhurried pace, observing his surroundings. Several disciples were scattered throughout the hall—some examining the displays with focused expressions, others speaking quietly with the attendants.
After a brief walk, Jin spotted what appeared to be an empty reception area.
A long counter of dark wood reinforced with metal stood there. Behind it sat a disciple in an inelegant posture, chin resting on one hand, eyes unfocused—clearly bored.
However, the moment his eyes landed on Jin approaching…
Everything changed.
The disciple straightened abruptly, as if someone had injected energy directly into his dantian. His eyes lit up almost exaggeratedly, quickly scanning Jin from head to toe.
He wasn't looking at a person.
He was looking at a walking sack of spirit stones.
"Junior Brother," he said immediately, a wide, professional smile appearing out of nowhere. "Are you looking for a weapon? A defensive artifact? Or perhaps something custom-made?"
His tone shifted from utter tedium to pure enthusiasm in a single blink.
Jin raised an eyebrow slightly.
It seemed that, at least in this place… business never slept.