After walking for some time, Zhi Xuan arrived at the East Gate. Finding the guards securing the gate, Zhi Xuan calmly walked past them to exit the gate and go to the Thousand Stones River.

  Shoutuo's East Gate was much quieter at dawn than the Main Gate. Only a few carts laden with produce and wandering cultivators moved in and out. Zhi Xuan dimmed his aura, moving as if he were just an ordinary cultivator going to hunt for herbs.

  The Thousand Stones River, as its name suggested, was a shallow river with a bottom filled with large stones honed by the water's flow over centuries. The air here was cool and fresh, far from the city's smoky smell. Zhi Xuan found a stretch of stone hidden behind a willow forest, an ideal spot for his brutal training.

  "I will begin, Ruo," Zhi Xuan whispered, shedding his outer robe, leaving only light inner garments.

  Zhi Xuan carefully placed the Swan Essence Jade Box inside his robe, then with a calm movement, he plunged into the water. He enjoyed the freshness of the river at dawn. Zhi Xuan emerged from the water, his hair wet and his jade-white skin pure and flawless.

  His left eye was cold, pale yet deadly. Zhi Xuan swam closer to a cluster of large black stones gathered on the shallow riverbed.

  "Alright, I will start by lifting one hundred kati first."

  Zhi Xuan immediately began to move. He touched a large black stone firmly embedded in the river bottom. The stone, estimated to weigh one hundred kati, felt heavy and cold. He hugged it tightly, letting his body half-sink into the cold water.

  Zhi Xuan began running against the current. Every step was a struggle. The weight of the stone pulled him backward, and the cold water hindered every movement. Pain immediately spread through his shoulders, back, and legs, which had not been fully tempered by heavy physical exertion.

  HUUFF! HAAAH!

  Zhi Xuan clenched his jaw, his breath heavy. He inhaled deeply before holding his breath, starting to push harder against the current. He saved his essence, relying on raw mortal strength and forcing himself to continue fighting the flow.

  The walls around him were sharp pain. The cold river water pierced his bones, while his muscles screamed under the hundred-kati load. Although he had a solid Divine Wheel foundation, pure physical training without spiritual essence felt like returning his body to a fragile state. This was a cruel test, but Zhi Xuan knew it was the only way to unify his mortal body with the overly powerful Heavenly Samsara Wheel.

  "Run, Zhi Xuan," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse and choppy. "Consider this punishment. Punishment because you have to participate in that cruelty."

  He forced himself step by step, ignoring the throbbing in his knees and the burning in his back. This training was not about strength, but about speed and endurance. In the arena later, he would have to rely on reflexes, not spells.

  He ran for an hour without stopping; the distance was only about two hundred meters, but every meter felt like a mile. When he dropped the hundred-kati stone, the river water surged violently, and Zhi Xuan collapsed onto the shallow riverbed, gasping for air. His lungs ached, and his whole body trembled.

  "One hundred kati done," Zhi Xuan whispered, his eyes closed. After a moment of catching his breath, he opened his eyes. "Now... two hundred kati."

  He got up, his legs feeling like lead, and dragged himself toward a larger stone. The two-hundred-kati stone was almost chest-high. With difficulty, he hugged the large, rough, and cold stone. He felt small cuts on his skin from the stone's friction.

  "This is not about strength. It is about intent!" Zhi Xuan sighed. He forced his body to run again.

  Running with two hundred kati was far more painful. The river flow felt like claws pulling him. After only fifty meters, his knees buckled, and the stone fell back to the river bottom with a muffled thud.

  Zhi Xuan did not give up. He did not get up; he just pushed himself on the rocky riverbed, dragging the two-hundred-kati stone against the current, using the raw strength of his back and arms. Every inch of movement felt like a betrayal of his own body.

  "You must be strong," Zhi Xuan whispered, closing his pale left eye. "You must protect them. If you cannot hold this stone, how can you bear the weight of the entire Star Village?"

  That motivation, the promise he made to himself, became new fuel. He converted the pain into cold focus. He remembered when he practiced stances under Grandpa Wu's supervision, when he was forced to stand still for hours until his legs went numb. This training felt the same, but the stakes were much higher.

  He dragged the stone back to the starting point. He picked it up again and began to run, this time slower, more methodical, but without stopping. Another hour passed in quiet torment.

  When he finally dropped the two-hundred-kati stone, his muscles felt like fire. He allowed the cold water to wash over his body, cleansing the sweat and dirt. Zhi Xuan then looked towards a cluster of stones further away. A three-hundred-kati stone.

  "I need more. To guarantee my victory without killing... I need pure destructive strength," Zhi Xuan muttered.

  Zhi Xuan approached the three-hundred-kati stone, hugged it slowly, and tried to lift it. He gave a sharp growl as he tried to lift the stone, his feet stepping on sharp pebbles. But he did not care; his focus was only on the stone in front of him. Its weight far exceeded what an ordinary mortal body could bear. His muscles were already screaming, and his meridians, although strong, whined from the total denial of spiritual energy.

  "So heavy," Zhi Xuan grumbled. "I will not use the Heavenly Samsara Wheel just to lift this stone!"

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes for a moment, realizing that the water current was like a spear thrust that could not be avoided, while the black stone was the target of the spear that was capable of splitting the spear itself. Only by becoming the solid black stone could he resist the spear that was about to stab him.

  "Calm water can split land, but even the ocean will bow to eternal will."

  Zhi Xuan crouched, his body entering the water. His legs tensed and squatted slightly; he did not try to push the stone anymore. Instead, he tried to become the black stone whose stillness could split the flow of water. His two hands no longer focused on pushing but on observing how the water passed around the rocks.

  "This current... will swallow the stone in five seconds after the tide, then the stone will partially emerge from the water two seconds after the ebb."

  'You are wrong, monkey,' Ruo Xianxue hissed, her voice containing both mockery and guidance. 'It is not about becoming the stone. The stone will remain still, and the current will erode it, slowly but surely. It is about becoming the Current itself.'

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes. He stared at the river bottom, where the water swirled around the three-hundred-kati stone he had tried to lift.

  'Notice how the current moves,' Ruo Xianxue continued, her tone now turning instructional. 'The stone is heavy, but the water around it has pressure and momentum. Do not fight it directly. Become part of the river. Use the water pressure to lift the stone, and use the momentum of your heels to resist the current. Find the balance point where you, the stone, and the water become one entity.'

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  Zhi Xuan took a deep breath, taking the advice. He had indeed been too focused on frontal struggle, which was pure mortal mentality. He began to observe the water and the stone with a subtler sense, using his cultivator's mental acuity to understand the nature of the water and the stone.

  He felt the water pressure around his knees. Instead of fighting it, he slightly rotated his hips, letting the pressure lift him slightly. He positioned himself at the dead center of the three-hundred-kati stone, where the current slightly weakened after splitting.

  With a low roar, Zhi Xuan tried to lift it again. This time, he did not just use his muscles; he used the principle of water momentum. He lifted the stone precisely at the moment the whirlpool helped provide lift.

  BRRRGGG!

  The three-hundred-kati stone was lifted, although only a few inches above the riverbed.

  Pain spread through his back, but the pain was mixed with the euphoria of victory. This was the fusion of mortal skill and spiritual understanding—the bridge he needed.

  "I understand, Ruo," Zhi Xuan gasped. "Not strength. But technique."

  Zhi Xuan started moving, walking slowly upstream, every step feeling like pulling a giant boulder. But this time, he moved his body intelligently, taking advantage of the moments of high and low tide, keeping his center of gravity low.

  Two hours passed in motivated torture. Zhi Xuan finally managed to complete the three hundred kati. His body, freshly tempered last night, felt like raw steel that had been hammered with a sledgehammer. The pain was severe, but he knew that he had reached the physical limit he needed.

  He dropped the stone for the last time. Gasping in the water, his muscles felt tight and full. Zhi Xuan took a deep breath, his lungs burning. The river water, which was cold before, now felt warm from the heat radiating from his newly tempered muscles.

  "I will continue this again, at least until dusk arrives, and tonight we will see Young Master Gu's face."

  Zhi Xuan continued the gruesome body tempering for hours. Dawn turned into morning, and morning crept toward midday. His back and shoulders, covered only by thin undergarments, rubbed against the rough stones, creating scratches and abrasions that began to bleed.

  Every time he felt like giving up, every time his muscles trembled uncontrollably, Zhi Xuan recalled the image of the cheerful A-zi, the innocent laughter of the little girl with the Star Night Fruit, and the weary face of A-zi's mother. He visualized how that warmth would be destroyed by the cold arrogance of Young Master Gu.

  He repeated the run with increasing loads: one hundred, two hundred, three hundred kati, up to a peak of five hundred kati.

  HUUFF! HAAAH!

  His lungs felt like hot iron, and the river water felt like cold lava. However, as time went on, he found a smoother rhythm. His body began to adapt. His muscles, which initially screamed in pain, now responded. He danced with the water and the stone, using every touch of the water flow to help move the impossible load.

  Zhi Xuan lifted the five-hundred-kati stone for the last time, moving it to a safe spot on the riverbank. He fell to his knees, gasping, feeling blood trickle between the cuts on his stone-grazed shoulders. However, his mortal body had been tempered—every muscle felt tight and obedient.

  He dragged himself to the riverbank, soaking his wounds in the cold water for a moment. He then picked up his outer robe and took the Swan Essence Jade Box. He channeled the Taiyin, which was now part of the Heavenly Samsara Wheel, to heal the external wounds on his shoulders and back. The wounds immediately froze and closed, but the scars remained, giving him the appearance of a veteran warrior.

  He put on his black-and-red robe, which now felt slightly looser due to his swollen muscles. The timing was perfect—midday had transitioned to afternoon, and the Dragon Fang Arena would begin its registration.

  "Alright, Dragon Fang Arena."

  Zhi Xuan walked with a steady stride, moving away from the Thousand Stones River with new resolve. He passed through the East Gate and re-entered Shoutuo City.

  Zhi Xuan returned to the city center, blending into the thickening crowd as the afternoon approached. His steps were now light but filled with hidden strength, contrasting with his battered body under the robe. He walked towards the southern district, where the Dragon Fang Arena towered.

  The Arena was a colossal structure made of black stone, circular in shape with prominent dragon fang carvings at its main gate. The din of the crowd could already be heard from afar—a mix of shouts, laughter, and the thunderous beat of drums that fueled adrenaline. Large banners announcing "Mortal Duel to the Death" and "Prize of Ten Thousand Spiritual Jade Coins" fluttered in the air.

  Zhi Xuan entered the arena gate. Inside, the atmosphere was much noisier. The registration area was filled with a long queue of mortals and low-level cultivators whose eyes gleamed with a mix of hope and fear. The smell of sweat, dust, and dark enthusiasm filled the air.

  "Come on! I have been waiting since morning! I must get this chance!" a skinny youth shouted, pushing the line in front of him.

  "Don't push, idiot! Everyone here has a reason to fight! If you die in the arena, your prize goes to Young Master Gu!" a muscular man retorted, glaring at the skinny youth.

  "Who cares about dying! If I win, my family will live comfortably for seven generations!" another youth shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. "My mother is sick, my sister is starving. Ten thousand spiritual jade coins are our only hope!"

  An old woman with a shabby veil, clutching the hand of a much sturdier young man, whispered pleadingly. "Son, are you sure you want to do this? I can find another job. I do not want to lose you."

  The young man smiled bitterly. "Mother, no job can give us enough money for your medicine. This is the only way. I am strong, Mother. I will win."

  Zhi Xuan listened to all of it. Every sentence was a reminder of the price mortals had to pay under the heel of power. The desperation in their eyes, the blind hope, and the terrible sacrifice—all of it pierced his heart, yet also strengthened his resolve.

  He saw another youth, with a much weaker physique, trembling in the line. The youth constantly looked at the notice board, his eyes fixed on the number "Ten Thousand Spiritual Jade Coins." His face was deathly pale, yet he did not move.

  "Don't be afraid, son," whispered a middle-aged man standing behind the youth, his tone gentle. "You look skinny. You do not have to join this duel. Just find another job."

  The skinny youth shook his head. "No, Uncle. This is for my younger brother. He... he needs tuition money for the sect. My father said, if he has the money, he can reach the Golden Core. I cannot let him lose his dream." His voice cracked, and he wiped away tears with the back of his dirty hand.

  The middle-aged man sighed, patting the youth's shoulder. "May the gods bless you, son. You are a brave older brother."

  In front of Zhi Xuan, a tough-looking young woman with a scar on her face turned back, sneering. "Crybaby! This is no place for sob stories. This is the arena! If you do not have the will to kill, do not take up our spot in the line!"

  The middle-aged man frowned. "We all know the risks, Miss Ling. But our motivations are different. Some of us fight for life; others fight for... pleasure."

  "Pleasure?" The young woman laughed cynically. "I fight for dignity! My husband left me because he said I was not strong enough. I will win this money and buy the best weapon! I will prove that a woman like me can be a Devil in the arena!"

  Zhi Xuan absorbed every sentence he heard, locking the desperation in their eyes into his cold heart. He looked past the young woman called Miss Ling, observing how many bitter stories were hidden behind their determination. If he won the prize, he would not only gain war funds, but he would also shatter the chain of false hope that bound these people.

  Zhi Xuan stepped forward as the line moved. He stopped right in front of a large table guarded by two tired and cynical-looking cultivators, wearing plain gray robes without emblems. The table was piled with silver coins and jade scrolls.

  "A one-eyed blind man? Are you sure you will join this mortal duel?" said one of the cultivators with a heavy build. Followed by laughter from the participants behind Zhi Xuan.

  Zhi Xuan, being belittled, merely pulled the corner of his lips into a sneer. He reached into his robe pocket and placed the last fifty silver coins he had for registration.

  "If I win, do you want to bet?" Zhi Xuan stared flatly, his sapphire blue eye radiating a solid calmness. Meanwhile, his left eye was still pale.

  The stack of coins, though glittering, looked pitiful next to the organizers' expensive jade scrolls. Zhi Xuan's action, challenging a cultivator with a bet he knew could not be reciprocated, turned the whispers behind him into a brief silence.

  The fat cultivator's laughter caught in his throat. He looked at the stack of silver on the table, then at Zhi Xuan's contrasting eyes. Zhi Xuan's right eye radiated a sharp calmness, but his pale, almost white left eye emitted a cold aura that felt alien and ancient—like looking into the essence of the night sky. Zhi Xuan's cold sneer, appearing on that young and elegant face, created an intimidating contrast.

  "A bet?" the fat cultivator sneered, immediately retreating back into his sect's arrogance. "A low-level Divine Wheel boy betting with Ge Lao? You will die before the second round, you one-eyed blind man."

  "Or perhaps not," Zhi Xuan countered, his voice calm and steady. He did not raise his voice; the cold tone in his voice gave weight to his words.

  "If I win, I want you to admit that this blind eye is sharper than your 'clear' cultivation eyes."

  The fat cultivator snorted, but he did not respond to the challenge further—a bet with a mortal was not worthy of his status. He picked up a small wooden hammer, slamming it onto the table.

  "Take your number. Five in the afternoon, the duel begins. Go!"

  The fat cultivator shoved a piece of stamped animal hide into Zhi Xuan's hand. Zhi Xuan caught it.

  Zhi Xuan turned from the table, walking through the crowd who now stared at him with a mix of pity, surprise, and admiration for his courage. He ignored them and began walking towards the waiting area.