This realization struck Yun Che’s lifeless inner lake like a colossal boulder weighing ten thousand jin. What it stirred was not ripples, but towering waves—violent enough to nearly drown his reason.
Throughout the entire day, amid his numb trudging back and forth between the Cold Nether Pool and the dining hall, amid the shrill urging and sneering mockery of “Yellow-Skin Rat,” amid the tedious repetition of squatting in the herb garden with dirt-stained fingers… his soul seemed to have detached from that exhausted body. It remained wholly immersed in the shock of that boundless, milky-white void.
With every sweat-soaked moment and every ache screaming from his muscles, he silently calculated in his heart:
One instant in reality—ten instants in the dream.
With every sideways glance endured and every swallowed humiliation, he repeatedly savored the thought:
Training in the void—feedback in reality.
A crack had been carved into the frozen shell of despair. Scorching light and hope poured in like a flood, burning his heart until it seared—yet he had to exert every ounce of control to bury that blazing secret beneath a face that was calm, even faintly numb.
He grew more silent than before, his gaze more restrained, almost engraving the words “utterly unremarkable” into his very being. But only he knew that a force was awakening within him, and that an unprecedented certainty was taking root. The exhaustion and humiliation of a menial’s life could no longer easily crush his spine, because they had been redefined—
All of it had become a trivial price he paid for those stolen “tenfold hours.”
He made use of brief gaps during the day to collect the spirit dew secreted by the stone bead in ever more concealed ways, while pondering how to maximize the use of the void. He discovered that the bead seemed to respond uniquely to pure moonlight, showing no such reaction under lamplight or sunlight. This led him to decide that his primary exploration and cultivation would take place deep at night, when moonlight was at its fullest.
He also needed fuel.
The void’s natural absorption efficiency was far too low, and the stone bead’s spirit dew was limited in quantity—and a lifeline besides. His gaze once again turned to the Cold Nether Pool, whose waters contained faint traces of spiritual energy. At the same time, he began consciously observing and memorizing the distribution of plants in the wild region behind the mountain.
At last, he endured until the sun dipped below the horizon.
The moon sank toward the western peaks, and snores rose and fell throughout the menial courtyard.
(From here, it connects seamlessly with your existing Chapter 24 content.)
Yun Che silently sat up on his bed. He did not light a lamp. By the remaining starlight and moonlight filtering through the window, he placed beside the bed a bamboo flask of Cold Nether Pool water he had secretly saved during the day—far inferior to a spirit spring, yet still carrying traces of the thin, icy spiritual energy of this land.
Then, he took out the gray-white stone bead he kept hidden close to his body.
Same as before.
The moon sank beyond the western peaks, and snores rose and fell throughout the menial workers’ quarters.
Yun Che sat up silently from his bed. He did not light the lamp. By the faint starlight and moonlight seeping through the window lattice, he placed a bamboo tube of Cold Nether Pool water beside his bed—water secretly saved during the day. Though far inferior to a spirit spring, it still carried traces of the sect’s thin, icy spiritual essence.
Then, he took out the gray-white stone orb hidden close to his body.
The brief tests he had conducted during the day were enough to set his heart racing: time dilation, physical feedback. Either discovery alone was enough to overturn conventional cultivation knowledge. But now, he needed to confirm the most crucial point—
Could this stone orb allow him to cultivate?
He had no techniques.
No manuals.
He could not even sense Void Essence.
But he had the stone orb.
He had tenfold time.
And he had the calm, observant focus he had honed since childhood.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Taking a deep breath, Yun Che placed the orb in his palm and aligned it with the final thread of moonlight slipping through the window.
Focus.
Observe the patterns.
The cloud-like markings began to circulate once more. The familiar pull on his consciousness appeared again. This time, he did not resist. He allowed his awareness to sink toward the rotating center.
Drowsiness wrapped around him like a gentle tide.
Milk-white emptiness. Endless silence.
Yun Che stood within the now-familiar space and immediately checked himself. Gray cloth robes. Straw sandals. Everything matched the outside world. He reached into his chest pouch—the small cloth bundle was still there, holding the last piece of osmanthus candy from his mother and a few dried Star-Pattern Grass leaves.
But the wooden task token tied at his waist—the one bearing a simple tracking mark from the overseer disciple—was gone.
“Ordinary objects can enter, but items imbued with sect markings cannot?” Yun Che murmured.
The stone orb itself clearly held power, yet could still be brought inside. The rules governing this space were clearly more complex than simply “with or without spiritual energy.”
He set the question aside and sat down cross-legged—not in a formal cultivation posture, just a natural seated position.
No technique.
No breathing method.
He simply followed descriptions he had read before: relax, empty the mind, and sense the surroundings.
Nothing.
No warmth.
No crawling sensation.
Only the eternal soft glow of the void and distant flickering lights.
Time lost meaning.
Eventually, a faint weariness surfaced—not physical exhaustion, but mental drain, as though consciousness itself was being consumed.
Just as he prepared to stop—
The distant light specks… brightened.
Threads of extremely fine, nearly imperceptible light drifted from the nearest points and settled upon Yun Che’s body.
No warmth.
No touch.
But he saw it—not with his eyes, but with that innate observational instinct he had always possessed. Dust-like motes of light slipped into his skin and vanished.
Slow. Subtle. Almost negligible.
“These are… Void Essence?”
They did not flow through meridians.
They did not gather in the dantian.
They scattered into flesh and bone like dying fireflies. Most faded away—but an infinitesimal trace lingered, naturally absorbed.
Tiny.
But real.
Completely different from the utter emptiness he felt when sensing Void Essence outside.
“This space isn’t devoid of energy,” Yun Che realized. “Its form is simply different. And here… my body can absorb it—inefficiently, but genuinely.”
He steadied his emotions and continued.
When mental fatigue reached its limit, the familiar tearing pain struck—
Return.
Yun Che opened his eyes abruptly. The sky outside remained dark. Dawn was still some distance away.
He checked his body. No clear increase in strength—but the soreness from a full day of labor had eased slightly. More subtly, his mind felt lighter, clearer.
“Effective… but too slow,” he judged instantly.
Relying on ambient absorption alone was meaningless.
“I need fuel.”
His thoughts turned to the spirit dew secreted by the stone orb. It healed injuries—surely it was a highly condensed, easily absorbed form of energy.
A plan formed.
Over the next several days, Yun Che’s life appeared unchanged. He rose before dawn to carry water, endured harsh menial labor, and bore the overseer’s ridicule and Zhang Hu’s complaints.
But unseen by others, he began quietly accumulating.
He carefully collected the orb’s nightly spirit dew. Each day, he consumed only a single minuscule drop—just enough to relieve deep fatigue and maintain peak condition.
At the same time, he began consciously observing the Cold Nether Pool—not the water itself, but the faint, icy spiritual currents flowing within.
Ten days later, opportunity arrived.
A sudden cold snap swept through the menial quarters. Half the workers fell ill. Even the yellow-robed overseer was congested and irritable.
Yun Che, bolstered by trace spirit dew intake, remained unaffected—and was assigned extra solitary tasks, including dumping refuse at a remote abandoned medicinal waste pit in the back mountains.
Perfect.
At noon, after confirming no one was nearby, Yun Che took out a leaf-wrapped water pouch containing the purest Cold Nether Pool water he had collected before dawn.
He drank half a bamboo tube in one go.
The icy liquid slid into his stomach. A faint, cold current spread—normally useless to cultivators, imperceptible to mortals.
But Yun Che felt it.
Immediately, he sat behind a wind-sheltered rock, gripped the stone orb, and focused.
The void returned.
This time, the difference was unmistakable.
The cold current from the pool water did not dissipate as it would outside. It was anchored within him, its dispersal greatly slowed.
He seized the moment.
Maintaining his crude yet focused observational state, he sensed the faint resonance between the drifting light motes and the cold current within.
Absorption efficiency increased—just slightly.
When the limit arrived and the pain returned, Yun Che knew—
This time, the amount of retained energy was roughly thirty percent higher than before.
“External energy as the spark. The void as the furnace…”
Leaning against the rock after returning, Yun Che’s breathing was unsteady, but his eyes shone brilliantly.
The path was real.
Though Cold Nether Pool water was weak, it proved the method viable. Stronger sources…
The pill hall.
The guarded herb gardens.
The inner sect’s spirit springs.
All unreachable—for now.
But not impossible.
Yun Che’s gaze shifted to the deeper back mountains, marked as wild forest with occasional low-tier beasts.
He could not access regulated resources.
But identifying overlooked wild plants carrying faint spiritual essence?
That… was something he could do.
Shouldering his tools, Yun Che returned to the menial quarters as usual.
His figure remained thin beneath the afternoon sun—but beneath that obedient exterior, something had taken root.
Tenfold time.
A fragile hope.
An untrodden path.
His cultivation truly began here.
Yun Che’s true entry into cultivation—not through talent, but through observation, patience, and stolen time.
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Do you like this slow-burn hidden cultivation route?
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Should Yun Che take bigger risks for better resources, or keep stacking safely?
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Wild herbs are next… what would you hunt first?
Thanks for reading—and I’ll see you in the next chapter. ??