Behind the rear side of Li Yan's courtyard, a narrow path wound its way up toward an unknown mountaintop. The path was hardly wide enough for two people side by side and was paved with small, scattered stones. Along each side, slender ink bamboo swayed gently in the breeze—in this small bamboo peak, the entire area was an endless sea of bamboo.
The bamboo lining the path was different from the thick, robust specimens that grew nearer the mountainside or around Li Yan's own courtyard. These bamboo shoots, no wider than a finger and only about a person's height, resembled tender little bamboos or willow stems. Every time a soft breeze blew, the slender branches would tremble and rustle like whispering silk. Up here on the mid-mountain level, a few wisps of white cloud would sometimes drift slowly out from the fine bamboo grove, only to be carried away in the distance moments later.
As Li Yan walked along this narrow trail, the drifting clouds would sometimes skim past his waist or overhead before quietly disappearing into the dense bamboo on the opposite side—as if they were strolling through a mystical haze.
Even though he had been traveling this path every few days recently, Li Yan's thoughts were deep in contemplation. His destination lay about twenty li up the mountain from his ink bamboo courtyard—a plateau he had discovered some time ago, reputed to be an ideal place for training.
Looking back over the past half-year, Li Yan recalled his early days of cultivation. At the very beginning, when he first started practicing his techniques and immortal arts, his progress had seemed normal. Yet after about ten days of training, a series of bizarre and inexplicable events began to occur.
It started with subtle signs: during his practice of cultivation techniques his spiritual energy would improve only very slowly—a mere fraction of a breakthrough every few days. At first, he assumed this was natural; after all, Master Lin Daqiao had mentioned that obstacles and bottlenecks were inevitable in the path of cultivation. But soon the pace of progress fell to a snail's crawl. There were days when, despite his best efforts, his spiritual energy barely budged. In fact, on some days, if he stopped his cultivation altogether, his energy would even show signs of decline. This unnerved him deeply—it was then that he realized something was wrong.
At first, Li Yan suspected that there might be a flaw in his technique or in the Gui Shui True Classics that he had been meticulously following. He even delved into his Sea of Consciousness, methodically reviewing every syllable of the incantation in the Gui Shui Manual. Yet no matter how carefully he probed, nothing out of the ordinary revealed itself. Days of careful investigation later, his doubts remained unresolved.
Even more unsettling were the anomalies in his practice of immortal arts. His "Cloud and Rain Technique"—a skill he had once managed to invoke with some awkward success—had begun to behave unpredictably. Sometimes it would intermittently work, and then, when successful, the rainwater it produced would turn an eerie shade of green. As these green droplets hit the ground, they swirled upward in dense clusters of green mist. When the mist eventually dissipated, the once-solid ground bore marks: countless tiny pits, uneven in depth and appearance, as though the surface had been corroded.
These puzzling phenomena left Li Yan at a loss. Determined to understand the cause, he carefully attempted multiple sessions of the Cloud and Rain Technique. But after a few consecutive casts, he found that the immortal art failed to materialize altogether. When he did channel his spiritual energy, it would surge forward for an instant—and then vanish as if it had been snatched away. Frustrated and unwilling to surrender, he tried again several times. Finally, he managed to cast the technique once more. Except this time, instead of ordinary rain, dark clouds released not water but a thick, abnormal blue mist. In moments, the aberrant blue fog nearly engulfed the courtyard. Alarmed, Li Yan immediately unleashed his protective spirit energy. Fortunately, his inner aura held, and his body remained safeguarded. Breathing a tentative sigh of relief, he hastily produced his waist token and flung open the courtyard gate to escape. He had no idea what these blue mists were—he'd clearly executed the Cloud and Rain Technique, for it should have produced nothing more than a gentle shower.
Peeking anxiously outside his courtyard, Li Yan waited for a half-hour to see if the uncanny blue mist would dissipate. When it finally cleared, he re-entered only to find the courtyard itself in disarray. The stone table and benches that usually stood in the center had vanished without trace. The bamboo branches and leaves overhead, which once formed a lively green canopy, now drooped and curled as though their spiritual vitality had diminished. Although the courtyard's walls and the protective formation remained intact, a closer inspection filled him with disquiet. As he circled the courtyard, his heart sank further—the supporting spirit stones of the protective array in the corners now appeared heavily depleted.
He recalled that during calm times, when the formation was merely providing a defensive barrier, the spirit stones would lose their luster by only a small fraction after four or five days. But the stones he had observed yesterday were far more dulled—losing what seemed to be three to four times more of their brilliance. It was clear that these stones would not last until the end of the month; in at most ten days, the protective energy would be completely exhausted. Li Yan then deduced that the mysterious blue mist had been repelled by the formation, yet at the same time, its active absorption had rapidly drained the spirit stones.
A twinge of pain for the loss of these precious stones was soon replaced by a shiver of dread. Looking at the numerous tiny pits on the ground and the vanished stone furnishings, he could only imagine the dire consequences if that corrosive rain—or that strange toxic blue mist—were to engulf him. The thought alone sent chills down his spine.
After a long while, though still troubled by these phenomena, Li Yan turned his focus back to his own curiously aberrant immortal arts. Could it be that the Gui Shui True Classics did not support these types of effects? But that possibility was quickly dismissed in his mind. After all, Dong Fu Yi had never mentioned anything about needing to pair the Gui Shui cultivation techniques with any special immortal art. If that were the case, he would have surely stored both the techniques and the arts together in his Sea of Consciousness.
Then he wondered—could it be that the problem lay within his own body? Yet the only known issue with him was his "Fragmented Toxic Body" condition. Contemplating all these events, he finally relaxed his tense mind and sighed heavily. It seemed that he would be forced to seek out his corpulent teacher—despite any reluctance—to solve this problem. With that grim determination, he activated his flying talisman and soared off from the bamboo courtyard among the cluster of buildings.
About half an hour later, his teacher, Wei Zhongran, appeared in Li Yan's courtyard. Wei Zhongran looked around at the disarray, then fixed his gaze on Li Yan without a word. He walked over to one of the small pits now scattered on the ground, knelt down, and reached out to prod at the remnants of dry, turquoise water trapped within. Alarmed, Li Yan wanted to stop him—he was all too familiar with the corrosive strength of that rain. But before Li Yan could react, Wei Zhongran's finger had already dipped into one of those pits. To Li Yan's astonishment, no green mist erupted as he had feared. Instead, after wiping some parched rainwater on his finger, Wei Zhongran held it up to his eyes and then near his nose. With a slight twist of his finger, a wisp of green fog swirled up momentarily from his fingertip before vanishing into nothingness.
Then, before Li Yan could muster a further observation, his teacher stood and swept his hand across the air. From the white mists emanating from the formation on the courtyard wall, several strands of eerie blue mist suddenly rose and rapidly gathered in his open palm. Li Yan recognized these as the very blue mists he had unwittingly produced during his earlier sessions of the Cloud and Rain Technique. Although these residual mists were faint, Wei Zhongran's demonstration revealed that even such strange phenomena were at least contained within the protective array. Wei Zhongran closed his eyes, held the blue mist in his palm for a few moments, and when he finally opened his eyes again, the mist had completely vanished. After a moment's pause and further contemplation, he turned his attention back to Li Yan.
"You are now experiencing the aftereffects of your Fragmented Toxic Body," Wei Zhongran explained slowly. "I once read in the ancient texts that such a body—one marked by toxic corruption—produces a severe internal poison. In your case, these abnormal manifestations seem to be composed of not just one but five distinct toxins. The first type of poison in your 'rain' is formed from what the texts call 'Phosphorus Tobacco Grass' and 'Spotted Green Dew'; the second toxin is a composite of 'Blue Horse Tassin,' 'Monkshood Leaf,' and 'Violet Lightning Centipede Tail.' These ingredients, originally prepared from herbs and demon beast organs as potent toxins, are now being self-generated within you. I have read that throughout billions of years, only three individuals have managed to forge a body with such fragmented toxicity—the last of whom lived tens of millions of years ago. That tells you just how rare and dangerous this condition is. In time, for a body of mixed spiritual root like yours to be admitted into our mighty sect, the Wángliǎng Sect, you must already possess this toxic heritage. I used to only know of these conditions from theoretical descriptions, but now I see them for myself. It makes me regard you with a measure of respect—even at your current stage, your toxic power is not something to be taken lightly. Even a careless move by a Foundation Establishment practitioner could spell disaster if they come into contact with it."
Li Yan's heart trembled at these words. Though he had long known in theory that his condition was unusual, witnessing his teacher—this rotund, formidable master—examine it with such ease and calm confidence was startling. Wei Zhongran demonstrated as if plucking stray droplets from the air, letting the blue mist that Li Yan's spell had produced swirl in his palm before dissipating it with a mere gesture. He then continued, "These phenomena are perfectly normal in the process of cultivating with a Fragmented Toxic Body. I have indeed read some accounts regarding the three major toxic bodies in the ancient records. But for now, let me take you to obtain a jade tablet containing the sect's predecessors' detailed records and insights. It is far more comprehensive."
At the sound of this, Li Yan's eyes lit up with hope. Finally, here was a solution—a way to better understand his condition so that he might avoid cutting short his path to immortality. After all, he had just begun his journey on the immortal path and could ill afford any premature end.
Without further delay, Wei Zhongran's own spiritual light shimmered across his body. Without even summoning his flying talisman, he wrapped an arm around Li Yan and carried him upward. It was only then that Li Yan realized that a practitioner in the Golden Core stage could make flight seem as effortless as a casual stroll.
They made their way first to the grey-robed elder at the small bamboo peak, then to the Old Lord Peak and the Spirit Insect Peak within the Treasure Pavilion. At each location, they retrieved several jade tablets—and with expert precision, Wei Zhongran imprinted them into Li Yan's Sea of Consciousness. Through these inscriptions, Li Yan learned that the three ancient toxic pioneers of the Wángliǎng Sect had originally emerged from these very three peaks.
Within a single hour, they were on their way back. While flying past the support office, Wei Zhongran descended for a moment. The support disciples, noticing his arrival, immediately dropped to their knees in respectful prostration. Nodding in acknowledgement, Wei Zhongran then ordered several of the support disciples to fetch a new set of stone table and benches for Li Yan's courtyard. This surprised the disciples greatly—normally, such minor matters would be handled by Li Wu Yi's group or resolved via a brief transmission notice. Yet today, the peak master himself had come to instruct them.
Over in the main hall, Senior Sister Miao Wangqing hastened to the scene. Knowing that their master intended to issue even this small order personally, her eyes flickered with both curiosity and admiration as she watched Li Yan. The look, however, made Li Yan's heart pound with uneasy apprehension. It wasn't that Wei Zhongran had purposely tried to impress her—in truth, he was simply passing by—but he was well aware that Li Yan was still new to these protocols.
After the matter was settled, Wei Zhongran swept his sleeve. In a few moments, several low-grade spirit stones materialized and floated before Li Yan. For a brief moment, Li Yan was taken aback. It was said that Wei Zhongran was not one to dole out spirit stones to anyone unless they truly deserved it. But knowing that he now possessed only six spirit stones himself, Li Yan could not refuse such an unexpected gift. He bowed respectfully and accepted them.
This gesture only deepened Senior Sister Miao Wangqing's newfound regard for Li Yan. It wasn't that these few spirit stones were particularly exceptional—they were simply low-grade—but rather that, in the eyes of their sect's master, one did not receive even a single spirit stone without having earned the right. The Wángliǎng Sect prided itself on making each disciple self-reliant so that, in time, they would all learn to stand on their own. That, she thought, was the true measure of a cultivator. And from her perspective, Li Yan had now earned some weight in the master's estimation.
Li Yan, however, did not know the full implications of receiving these spirit stones. To him, this was simply a gift from his teacher—a reward to be appreciated and tucked away. When he saw his teacher's billowing sleeves as Wei Zhongran departed, he quickly excused himself from the curious glances of Senior Sister Four. With countless matters on his mind, there was no time for idle chatter. His focus now was entirely on advancing his cultivation.
In the days that followed, Li Yan found himself immersed in his studies. At every opportunity—except for the few days when he ventured out to the support office for food—he secluded himself day and night to practice relentlessly. Being just a beginner, he could not yet endure prolonged periods of seclusion without nourishment; after all, for a mortal, regular food was both delicious and vital, far surpassing the efficacy of Begu Pills.
Time, as it ever does, slipped away almost imperceptibly. In the small bamboo peak, the passage of the seasons was hard to detect. One had to pay close attention to the subtle change in the hues of the bamboo leaves—from tender green to deep, inky tones—or to the occasional emergence of tender spring shoots, to notice that days melted into nights and seasons turned.
Before long, more than half a year had passed. One day, the heavy door of Li Yan's bamboo courtyard slowly swung open. Amid billowing white mist, a passage materialized. Clad in a dark green robe, Li Yan emerged at a measured pace.
He was, by this time, considerably taller than he had been half a year earlier. Now merely a boy of fifteen or sixteen, he was in the midst of his growth spurt—fine hairs around his mouth had darkened and thickened, his shoulders had broadened, and though he had always been slightly taller than his peers, his ongoing cultivation had bestowed an unmistakable air of maturity. The traces of youthful innocence had faded, even as his remarkably ordinary appearance still lacked the ethereal spark that typically marks a true cultivator.
With a furrowed brow and a heavy countenance full of inner preoccupations, Li Yan left his courtyard and slowly began his walk toward the mountaintop at the rear—a solitary, pensive journey amid winding trails and whispering bamboos.
This passage not only paints a vivid picture of the natural splendor surrounding Li Yan's training grounds—a narrow, stone-paved path through an ocean of delicate ink bamboo—but also reflects his inner turmoil as he recalls the strange and unsettling incidents that beset his early cultivation. From the puzzling slowdown in the growth of his spiritual energy to the anomalous behavior of his Cloud and Rain Technique, the narrative hints at the grave implications of his "Fragmented Toxic Body." His teacher, Wei Zhongran, eventually reveals that these abnormal manifestations are due to the inherent production of potent toxins—composed of five distinct poisonous elements—that have been noted in ancient texts and are now self-generated within his body. Such conditions, rarely seen in billions of years, serve as both a potential curse and a unique legacy that has earned Li Yan's place in the formidable ranks of the Wángliǎng Sect.
After escorting Li Yan on a tour that culminates in retrieving detailed inscriptions from various peaks—each linked to the ancient toxic masters—Wei Zhongran returns to restore the damaged courtyard. The replenishment of the spirit stones by his master, even when such tokens are not normally dispensed lightly, further indicates that Li Yan's condition is taken very seriously by the sect leadership. Though Li Yan himself sees this as simply a generous reward, Senior Sister Miao Wangqing's reaction reveals that within the intricate politics of the sect, such marks of favor are laden with significant meaning.
Now, with his environment refitted and his inner cultivational progress continuing at an accelerated pace (as evidenced by the strengthening glow of his spirit energy along the bamboo walls), Li Yan's thoughts inevitably turn to his anomalous immortal arts. Could it be that his Gui Shui True Classics are somehow interfering with these arts? Or perhaps the strange phenomena are the inevitable outcome of his toxic condition? Whatever the case, Li Yan knows that he must eventually seek out his corpulent teacher for further insight—even if he feels uneasy about the prospect. Reluctantly, yet resolutely, he pilots his flying talisman once again toward a secluded spot in the bamboo courtyard.
After a brief flight, Wei Zhongran materializes in Li Yan's courtyard. Without ceremony, he kneels beside one of the tiny pits that had marred the stone floor—pits now containing lingering, parched turquoise residues—and tests the soil with his finger. With a few deft gestures, he effortlessly tames the resistant green mist. Then, gathering a few strands of the blue mist that Li Yan's aberrant spell had earlier produced, he holds them in his palm. As they swirl, he closes his eyes and, after a moment, releases them until they vanish completely. Only then does he fix his gaze upon Li Yan and explain in measured tones the true nature of his condition.
Wei Zhongran tells him that the aberrant effects he has been witnessing are the inevitable byproducts of a Fragmented Toxic Body. He details that, according to ancient records, such bodies produce a cocktail of poisons, with the first being a rain derived from "Phosphorus Tobacco Grass" and "Spotted Green Dew," while the second results from a blend of "Blue Horse Tassin," "Monkshood Leaf," and "Violet Lightning Centipede Tail." Normally, these toxins would be manufactured in controlled settings using herbs and demon beast organs—but in Li Yan's case, they are self-generated. This rare condition, having been achieved by only three individuals over billions of years (the last of whom lived tens of millions of years ago), commands both respect and caution. Even a careless move from someone in the Foundation Establishment stage could prove disastrous if caught in such toxic currents.
Not only did Wei Zhongran explain this with remarkable ease, but he also decided to take Li Yan to retrieve a jade tablet containing thorough records and insights compiled by predecessors in the sect—designed to help him understand and eventually overcome the poisonous impediments. Wei Zhongran then whisked Li Yan away; in that moment Li Yan marveled at how effortless flight could be for a Golden Core cultivator.
Their journey to the gray-robed elder's dwelling, and then to the revered peaks of Old Lord and Spirit Insect, enabled Li Yan to imprint vital knowledge into his Sea of Consciousness. Through these inscriptions, he learned that the three ancient toxic masters of the Wángliǎng Sect had hailed from these very peaks. In short order, they returned to the courtyard. As they neared the support office, the support disciples immediately bowed in reverence upon seeing Wei Zhongran. Shortly thereafter, he commanded that a new stone table and benches be brought forth to replace the ones ruined by the corrosive phenomena—a task which astonished the support disciples, who normally would have quietly rushed to complete such minor duties on their own.
In the midst of these activities, Senior Sister Miao Wangqing arrived, her bright eyes filled with curiosity and quiet approval. Although she rarely shared much with Li Yan—and he felt a twinge of nervousness at her gaze—her reaction, along with the careful replenishment of the protective formation's spirit stones by Wei Zhongran, revealed that Li Yan was not to be taken lightly.
Li Yan accepted the gift of the spirit stones with humble thanks, unaware of the broader implications his actions would have in the eyes of his peers. After Wei Zhongran's graceful departure, Li Yan quickly excused himself from a lingering conversation with Senior Sister Four, his mind too full of pressing concerns. His only focus now was on his cultivation and the rapid advance of his abilities.
In the days and weeks that followed, Li Yan poured every spare moment into his training. Apart from the occasional trip—once every ten to fifteen days—to the support office for food, he secluded himself day and night for strenuous practice. Being still at the very beginning of his journey, he could not manage prolonged seclusion; after all, a mortal's food is far more gratifying and nourishing than Begu Pills alone.
Time floated by almost imperceptibly in the secluded bamboo peak. The seasons' passage was revealed only in the subtle gradual deepening of the bamboo leaves' color or the timid emergence of fresh spring shoots amid the dense grove. Before long, more than half a year had elapsed. One day, the heavy door of his bamboo courtyard slowly swung open. Within the swirling white mist, a passage appeared, and Li Yan—now clad in a dark green robe—stepped out at a measured pace.
He had grown much taller than when he first had begun his training only half a year before. In his mid-teens, with subtle changes evident in his features—the fine hairs around his mouth had darkened, his shoulders had broadened, and the traces of childishness were gradually fading—Li Yan still looked ordinary. Yet beneath that unremarkable exterior, his inner progress shone, even if he had not yet acquired the unmistakable spiritual vibrancy of a fully awakened cultivator.
With carefully furrowed brows and a heavy heart laden with thought, Li Yan left the courtyard and slowly ambled toward the mountain peak at the back—a silent journey amid ancient, whispering bamboos and a path that seemed to melt into the clouds.