Li Yan's days of cultivation had finally begun. No longer did he have to practice in secret—as he once did in the Military Strategist's mansion, when every meal barely quenched his hunger. Now, he had devised a full cultivation plan for himself and could devote every ounce of his energy to his training.
Inside his cultivation chamber, Li Yan sat cross-legged on his meditation cushion with his eyes tightly shut and his face impassive. A faint, inky black aura swirled around his body. With each measured inhale and exhale, the black energy rhythmically expanded outward and then contracted—an endless cycle that marked the commencement of his transformation.
Completely absorbed in his practice, Li Yan sensed the gentle currents of inky black energy meandering slowly along his internal meridians. It took roughly half an hour for this energy to make its way back to his dantian and other vital energy centers, where it was then drawn into his "water spirit-energy reservoir." With every complete circuit, the black aura deepened imperceptibly in hue, and a thin mist began to accumulate steadily within the reservoir.
After several hours of such rigorous cultivation, Li Yan opened his eyes. A powerful, almost overwhelming feeling of latent strength swelled inside him; in that moment he fancied himself capable of standing even against advanced cultivators—say, someone like Master Seventh of the Qi-Condensing stage. Yet, he knew well that this newfound might was nothing more than a false surge—a temporary boost born of an elated spirit and a modest increment in his strength. Were he to truly engage in combat, the likes of which Master Seventh could dispatch him with a mere flick of a finger, his current power paled in comparison.
The Gui Shui True Classics—renowned as one of the oldest and most formidable legacies in the immortal spirit realm—had chosen him. For those selected, its techniques and methods attuned perfectly to one's inner nature, and after each session of cultivation, Li Yan felt his strength improve ever so slightly. Though progress came at a snail's pace, he could unmistakably feel his spirit-energy reservoir gradually filling up, each cycle a small victory.
Determined to test his newfound abilities, Li Yan extended his hand and began channeling his spirit energy. In the very next moment, his palm was suffused with slender tendrils of black aura. Clenching his fingers tightly, he hurled a punch forward. The amassed energy rapidly condensed into a compact sphere that shot forth like a missile, releasing a deep, muffled "buzz" as it tore through the air. Almost immediately, a heavy "bang" sounded, and the entire chamber was briefly bathed in a flash of bluish-white light before calm finally reclaimed the room.
Satisfied with the impressive display, Li Yan nodded to himself. The punch was not part of any refined immortal art technique; it was a pure projection of his spirit energy detached from his body, aimed squarely at the bamboo wall lining his cultivation chamber.
That very bamboo wall, however, struck him as peculiar. A few days earlier—after one session of cultivation when his internal energy brimmed with such intensity that he felt it might burst forth—Li Yan had impulsively decided to channel that energy into his hand. After several attempts, his palm was indeed flooded with rich, dark energy. Without fully considering the consequences, he swung his fist, directing his will to guide that energy outward. To his dismay, the energy left his body in an uncontrollable burst and, with unexpected force, slammed against the bluish-white bamboo wall two zhang away. A heavy, dull thud reverberated through the chamber.
Startled and fearing might be disastrous damage, Li Yan rushed over to inspect the impact site. To his relief, the wall remained as immaculate as its adjoining surfaces—its once bright, bluish-white finish undisturbed. He gently ran a fingertip along the surface; it felt cool and smooth to the touch. Experimenting further, Li Yan infused his hand with more energy and pressed against the wall. In response, faint bluish-white gleams ignited at his fingertips, as if his touch were compressing a hyper-resilient material. Clearly, the bamboo housing was no ordinary construction—it possessed qualities far beyond the mundane.
Intrigued, Li Yan then ventured into several other rooms of the complex to perform similar tests, and each time the results were consistent. Satisfied with his findings inside, he stepped out into the courtyard and wandered among the bamboo grove. There he found a robust black bamboo—with a trunk as thick as an adult's arm. Concentrating once more, he channeled his spirit energy and launched a punch. This time, after a few flickers of green, crystalline light danced along the surface, the bamboo suddenly split at the waist. The sight left him dumbstruck.
Recalling that earlier he had tested every wall in the building, Li Yan had assumed that perhaps the chamber was protected by defensive formations designed to prevent accidental damage during cultivation—a prudent measure given the fearsome display of magical might typical of immortal cultivators. However, after testing every single room and finding them equally resilient, he ruled out the possibility that each room was safeguarded by a miniature formation. After all, given the sheer number of rooms in the various courtyards—as described by Master Seventh and detailed in some ancient texts—no sect, not even the four major ones, could possibly invest in such extravagance.
Although Li Yan was still only a beginner in the vast world of immortal cultivation, he was no longer the clueless novice he had once been. Moreover, Master Seventh had mentioned that in the past this place boasted not only dozens of courtyards but many times more rooms than what remained today. Such a discrepancy further convinced him that the integrity of the walls was intrinsic to the building materials rather than the product of protective formations.
Master Seventh had also remarked that his rotund little mentor could, with a mere gesture, demolish 70–80% of the courtyards in the area. Reflecting on the fact that Li Yan had nearly given his all in that solitary punch—which merely made the bamboo wall shimmer a few times—he realized that the earth-shaking might of a cultivator in the Golden Core stage was far beyond his current capabilities.
If not a protective formation, then the only explanation was that the bamboo itself was a low-level magical artifact—a "spiritual object" designed to resist the assaults of cultivators' spirit energy. Yet as Li Yan examined a split black bamboo, he sensed that things were not so simple. He approached another specimen and again released a punch. This time, a crisp sound ensued as the bamboo merely split with a few thin cracks. Over the next couple of trials, one bamboo shattered into slender strips while another remained entirely unscathed.
In the end, Li Yan concluded that although the bamboo used in constructing the rooms of the courtyards and the wild, black bamboo of the grove appeared similar at a glance, there must be differences—be it due to age, quality, or perhaps mere appearance. His successive experiments, where he carefully adjusted the intensity of his spirit energy, produced a range of effects. The wild bamboo, it turned out, was at least a low-level spiritual object that ordinary mortals could not harm in the slightest, and it differed markedly from the bamboo used in construction.
For Li Yan, clarifying these details was not born of idle curiosity. Instead, it had become a habit—a way to ensure that he fully understood his surroundings and maintained a state of alert familiarity. After all, even the most inconspicuous detail in his environment might one day save his life.
He noticed that the bluish-white glow on the cultivation room's bamboo walls now pulsed much more strongly than the feeble glimmers of previous days. This was clear evidence that his spirit energy was growing rapidly.
Standing up, he pushed open the door and stepped into the courtyard. After pausing to steady himself and focus his mind for a moment, he raised his hands and, with somewhat clumsy determination, formed a series of hand seals at chest level while murmuring incantations. Within a dozen breaths, a small patch of dark cloud gathered in the air a few feet above his head. Though the cloud was only about the size of two adult palms—a sight almost comical—it soon deepened in color and began churning more violently. Yet within the next instant, there came a soft "puff," as if someone had exhaled in relief, and the little dark cloud simply dissipated.
Unmoved and expressionless, Li Yan stood quietly in thought. After a while he raised his hands again, and his low, resonant incantations resumed.
This was the "Cloud and Rain Technique" that Li Yan had been diligently practicing in recent days. He had chosen not to focus on other offensive techniques because his immediate needs were practical: although his dwelling was not far from a water source, using it for daily activities like bathing was never convenient. He recalled Master Seventh's advice that when a cultivator's body becomes grimy, one could simply perform the "Dust-Cleansing Technique"—or even execute a session of the "Cloud and Rain Technique," then use spirit energy to quickly steam-dry both body and clothes.
Ever since his time at the Treasure Pavilion, Li Yan had longed to master an immortal art of this sort. After all, cultivators were only human, and daily life inevitably required a bit of mundane upkeep. Yet his progress with the technique over the past few days left him less than satisfied. Earlier that morning, he had sought out his Master for guidance, but word had it that ever since their parting at the courtyard gate that day, the Master had indulged in one too many drinks. In a scene recalled by the supporting disciples, the handsome Master—after being left behind by the red-clad beauty Li, who had staggered away in an alluring, tipsy state—had even been found crouching on the ground in dry heaves for a long time. Still, as befits an immortal cultivator, his digestive system was extraordinarily resilient; he hadn't vomited a swirl of bile. In the end, with a pale face he announced a period of seclusion, and now the affairs of the sect were being managed by Senior Sister Four, Miao Wangqing.
Li Yan had intended to approach the current head, Senior Sister Four, to ask a few questions on cultivation techniques. But now, he felt unable to do so—not because he thought her unworthy, but because he had never spent time alone with her before, and he had heard from the supporting staff that her mood had been off these last few days, her lips perpetually pursed. Besides, the thought of seeking advice from the chubby master made him feel uneasy; he always sensed that this rather rotund master could effortlessly read every nuance of his thoughts. Every time Li Yan saw him, he inadvertently recalled the stern, unsmiling visage of Junior Master Ji.
Not well acquainted with his other senior brothers or sisters, Li Yan eventually resolved to seek out Master Seventh—Lin Daqiao—who was currently on the peak and not actively practicing. Lin Daqiao was in the process of gathering strength to break into the Foundation Establishment stage; he was waiting for the right moment, armed with Foundation Pills and other auxiliary elixirs provided by Wei Zhongran. Breaking through this crisis required not only a deep reservoir of magical power and potent supportive pills but also a strong will. Now, Lin Daqiao was slowly searching for that fleeting spark of inspiration.
When Master Seventh learned of Li Yan's arrival and his true intentions, he was visibly delighted. Recently, he hadn't been practicing much himself—spending his days wandering among the peaks or idling about on Xiao Zhu Feng—but had yet to find that elusive breakthrough. Now, with Li Yan arriving, he had finally found someone with whom he could share his thoughts. Perhaps, through their conversation, Lin Daqiao might even discover that spark of inspiration he had been seeking.
Learning of Li Yan's purpose, Master Seventh readily began to explain the basics of common immortal arts—arts which did not encompass any of his own closely guarded secrets. He was more than willing to clear Li Yan's doubts. In the immortal arts, one generally combines incantations, hand seals, and the catalysis of spirit energy to manifest an effect. That is the standard practice for those beginning on this path. But for seasoned practitioners, once an art is deeply ingrained, no incantation needs to be spoken, nor any hand seal visibly formed; a mere gesture—or sometimes even just a thought—is enough to summon its power.
And so Master Seventh took his time to elucidate the characteristics of the "Cloud and Rain Technique" as well as its shared principles with other immortal arts. He explained in detail various precautions Li Yan should exercise during practice, the optimal moments for uniting hand seals, incantations, and spirit energy—and in doing so, Li Yan felt as though the clouds had parted, revealing the sun. He believed that the insights provided in this lesson would not only spare him many detours in the future but might well prove useful when he later took up other immortal arts by analogy. This further deepened his admiration for the unbridled and charismatic nature of Master Seventh. After a half-hour of thoughtful discussion, they eventually parted amid lingering playful chatter.
In the days that followed, aside from the once-in-ten-to-fifteen-day trips to the support office to collect food, Li Yan spent nearly every waking moment locked away, practicing with unwavering focus. Being only at the beginning of his journey, he couldn't manage prolonged seclusion for intensive cultivation; moreover, for a mortal, regular food was far tastier and more nourishing than the Begu Pills he relied on.
… Time proved as elusive as ever. Days slipped away even as his practice deepened, yet in the enclave of Xiao Zhu Feng one rarely witnessed the changing of the seasons. Only by carefully noting the transformation of bamboo leaves—from tender green to deep inky hues—or by spotting fresh spring shoots emerging among the grove, could one discern that time passed and day succeeded night.
Before he knew it, more than half a year had elapsed. One day, the large door of his bamboo courtyard slowly swung open. Through the billowing white mist, a passage was revealed as Li Yan, clothed in a dark green robe, emerged at a measured pace.
He now stood much taller than he had been half a year earlier. At the age of fifteen or sixteen, when a youth is still growing, the fine hairs at the corners of his mouth had darkened and thickened, his shoulders had broadened, and though he had always been somewhat tall among his peers, his cultivation had rendered him even more mature. The traces of youthful precarity had begun to fade, though his ordinary look still lacked the otherworldly spark that marks true cultivators.
At that moment, Li Yan's brow furrowed with a heavy burden of thoughts. Exiting the courtyard, he turned and began a slow, measured stroll toward the mountain peak at the back, lost in contemplation.