first update.

  Yun Che waited outside the garden for roughly the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. When Elder Sun finally returned, his face was dark and his expression grim, as though he had swallowed a mouthful of bitter gall.

  His trip to report the matter of taking a disciple to the sect master had clearly gone poorly. Along the way, he had endured no small amount of thinly veiled mockery and pointed sarcasm from several fellow elders. The resentment churned violently in his chest.

  Just wait, he sneered inwardly. Once I trace the source of that gourd from this brat, refine it into pills, and advance my cultivation, we’ll see who still dares laugh at me.

  Upon entering the garden and spotting Yun Che standing obediently where he had left him, Elder Sun’s irritation flared anew. He barked coldly,

  “Yun Che! From today onward, you are a registered disciple under my name, Sun Dazhu! You are to cultivate diligently and not disgrace your master’s—”

  He paused, swallowing the word prestige before it left his mouth. He knew his own standing well enough.

  With a flick of his wrist, he tossed over a flat, dull-gray cloth pouch that looked utterly unremarkable.

  “This is the identification token for registered inner disciples, and also the lowest-grade storage pouch. It can hold some trivial items. Your robes and introductory cultivation manual are inside. See for yourself.”

  Yun Che hurriedly caught the pouch. It felt light, the rough texture of coarse cloth pressing against his palm. Yet the words storage pouch alone sent a surge of excitement through his chest. Coupled with the thought of an actual cultivation manual inside, his heart pounded uncontrollably.

  The hopeful faces of his parents seemed to rise vividly before his eyes.

  At last—he had truly stepped onto the path of cultivation.

  For the first time, when he looked at Sun Dazhu, his gaze carried a trace of genuine gratitude. He straightened and bowed deeply.

  “Disciple Yun Che pays respects to Master.”

  “Hmph.”

  Sun Dazhu responded with a nasal grunt, then abruptly pointed toward a smaller, even more dilapidated stone hut tucked into the corner of the garden.

  “You’ll live there from now on. Without my permission, you are not to step outside the garden gate even half a pace.”

  To emphasize his words, he bent down, casually picked up a stone the size of a fist, and flung it toward the garden entrance.

  Buzz—

  Just as the stone reached the gate, a faint violet barrier materialized out of thin air. The stone struck it without so much as a sound and instantly disintegrated into fine dust, scattering into the air before vanishing completely.

  Sun Dazhu shot Yun Che a glance that was equal parts smugness and warning, then clasped his hands behind his back and strode off toward his main residence without another word.

  Yun Che’s pupils contracted slightly. His heart tightened.

  So this seemingly ordinary garden concealed such a powerful restriction.

  Clutching the gray storage pouch—within which he could faintly sense a subtle spatial fluctuation—he turned and walked toward the stone hut assigned to him.

  The hut was barren to the extreme: a single hard plank bed, not even a table. Yet Yun Che didn’t care in the slightest. Sitting at the bedside, he eagerly began studying the storage pouch.

  The gray pouch was sealed with a thin cord of the same color. He focused his mind, imagining it opening, while gripping the bottom and tipping it over.

  With a few soft clatters, several items fell onto the hard-packed earth: a dark red inner-disciple robe of clearly superior quality to his former gray uniform, and a thin, thread-bound booklet.

  Yun Che’s eyes lit up. He immediately snatched up the booklet.

  The cover was made of plain gray-blue paper, with neat yet unadorned characters written in ink:

  “Introduction to Qi Induction · Volume One.”

  He took a deep breath and, with the reverence of a pilgrim approaching a sacred altar, carefully opened the pages.

  By the dim glow of an oil lamp, he read word by word, utterly oblivious to the passage of time.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  By the time he finally closed the booklet and extinguished the lamp, it was deep into the night. Though the room was plunged into darkness, his eyes shone brightly.

  This single night of reading had given him, at last, a foundational—if still vague—understanding of cultivation.

  Introduction to Qi Induction · Volume One detailed the earliest and most critical stage of cultivation: the first three layers of the Qi Condensation Realm.

  According to the text, the complete Qi Condensation stage comprised fifteen layers in total, forming the foundation upon which a cultivator reshaped their mortal body and laid the groundwork for the Dao. Only after fully mastering the first three layers would one qualify to receive the subsequent techniques.

  “Qi Condensation,” the text explained, referred to sensing the free-flowing spirit energy of heaven and earth—what Yun Che privately understood as Void Essence—and drawing it into the body through specialized breathing methods. This energy would then gather within the dantian, slowly accumulating, transforming flesh and blood, widening meridians, and preparing the body for future spells and higher realms.

  It was also the stage that most brutally tested innate talent.

  Those with abundant, pure spiritual roots—or, in Yun Che’s own understanding, strong affinity with Void Essence—could absorb energy swiftly, their cultivation advancing at breathtaking speed. Those of mediocre aptitude often stagnated at low levels for life. Some could not even sense the first trace of energy, wasting their entire existence in vain effort.

  To Yun Che, this booklet was nothing short of rain after a long drought.

  He immediately memorized the mantras, circulation routes, and—most importantly—the breathing principle known as “long inhale, short exhale.”

  A single inhale was to be slow and deep, filling the chest and abdomen; the exhale sharp and brief, roughly one-third the duration of the inhale. This counterintuitive breathing was meant to force open every pore and passage, forming an invisible net to capture the scarce spiritual energy in the air.

  The manual noted that upon first successful practice, those with passable aptitude might feel a faint sensation like ants crawling beneath the skin—proof that a wisp of spiritual energy had entered the body and flowed through the meridians. At such a moment, one must remain calm, relax fully, and guide that energy into the dantian.

  Yun Che sat cross-legged on the plank bed, closed his eyes, and began adjusting his breathing precisely as instructed.

  Inhale—long and deep.

  Exhale—short and sharp.

  Again.

  And again.

  Time slipped by.

  Eventually, Yun Che opened his eyes and released a long breath. Not only did he fail to feel the fabled “ant-crawling” sensation, the strange breathing left him dizzy and tight-chested.

  He let out a bitter smile.

  This manual was written for gifted inner disciples. His “lowest-grade” aptitude was never going to compare.

  Yet there was no trace of despair in his eyes.

  After rubbing his aching chest and adjusting his breath, he closed his eyes once more and resumed the suffocating rhythm.

  Once.

  Again.

  And again.

  The entire night passed in repetitive attempts and muted frustration.

  By dawn, Yun Che opened his bloodshot eyes, exhausted. His head throbbed, his meridians felt sluggish, and spiritual energy remained an intangible illusion.

  He stepped outside the hut. The morning breeze carried the bitter fragrance of medicinal herbs, refreshing his senses slightly.

  He couldn’t help but think of the spring water soaked in the stone bead. If only I could drink a few mouthfuls now…

  But this was no time for recklessness.

  He had absolute confidence in the hiding place where he had buried the stone bead and gourd—a naturally concealed rock crevice he had discovered only after scouring the back mountain, obscured by vines and rubble. Unless someone searched deliberately, it would never be found.

  Strolling along the garden path, morning dew rolled off the grass. He found a corner far from the precious herbs—apparently reserved open ground—and sat cross-legged once more.

  The spiritual energy here felt slightly denser than inside his hut.

  He adjusted his breathing and circulated the method.

  This time—after only a short while—a faint, almost illusory tingling appeared along the meridians in his legs!

  Though it vanished in an instant, Yun Che’s heart jolted with excitement.

  Just as he tried to seize the sensation—

  “Yun Che! What are you doing?!”

  The shout exploded beside him like thunder.

  He was forced to open his eyes. Sun Dazhu stood not far away, his face dark with displeasure. When his gaze swept over Yun Che’s position, his expression twisted with both anger and distress.

  “Cultivating,” Yun Che rose and answered respectfully. “Disciple was attempting breath refinement according to the method Master bestowed.”

  “Cultivating?” Sun Dazhu snorted coldly. “Who allowed you to cultivate in my medicinal garden? You certainly chose well! This area has the densest spiritual energy—meant for nourishing rare herbs! If you siphon it away and these treasures wither, your life wouldn’t be enough to compensate!”

  Yun Che glanced at the nearby herbs. A few leaves closest to where he had sat did appear… ever so slightly duller.

  He lowered his head. “This disciple was ignorant. Please forgive me, Master. I will never cultivate in the garden again.”

  “Hmph.”

  Sun Dazhu’s expression eased. His eyes shifted, and his tone turned casual.

  “However… if you can find me another gourd—one of decent quality—I can’t allow you to cultivate here, but I can reward you with a low-grade spirit stone. With that, your efficiency would far exceed this foolish sitting.”

  A flicker of ridicule passed through Yun Che’s eyes before vanishing.

  He raised his head, surprise and eagerness perfectly measured. “Master speaks truly? Disciple… Disciple can search near Cold幽潭 again. Perhaps fortune may smile once more.”

  Sun Dazhu pondered briefly, then nodded. “Go have a look. Remember—bring back such a gourd, and I will give you a spirit stone. I never go back on my word.”

  Yun Che met his gaze. “So long as the gourd is delivered, the spirit stone is guaranteed?”

  “Guaranteed,” Sun Dazhu smiled. “See the gourd, receive the stone.”

  Each plotting their own designs.

  Yun Che bowed. “Disciple obeys.”

  With a gesture, Sun Dazhu dispelled the violet barrier at the gate. The door creaked open.

  “Go,” he said warmly, impatience barely concealed. “Return quickly. I’ll be awaiting good news.”

  Yun Che passed through the gate and soon vanished into the morning mist.

  Sun Dazhu stood watching, the smile fading into naked greed.

  “Gourd… spirit stone?” he sneered. “Once you lead me to the ‘treasure ground,’ whether you live to take that stone… will no longer be up to you.”

  For most cultivators, it is frustration, repetition, and failure.

  Greed rarely announces itself loudly.

  Sometimes, it smiles and offers a deal.

  The real test begins in the next chapter.