Shi Yao sat cross-legged atop the mountain, the faint glow of twilight haloing his silhouette. His arms rested on his knees, his posture serene as mist coiled around him like worshipping incense. He slowly exhaled, breath weaving into the air, as though he were releasing more than just breath—memories, doubts, fears.
"So that's what a Foundation-stage cultivator is capable of…" he murmured inwardly. "If it weren't for the Heaven Devouring Pulse Art quietly nullifying Lan Xin's Glacial Shard Barrage, I'd be nothing but a frozen corpse."
The surrounding Qi responded to his thoughts like an obedient tide, flooding into him. It coursed through his veins with reverence, moving toward the broken remnants of his once-crippled meridians.
He was still, unnaturally so, as if the world itself dared not disturb his cultivation. The Qi within him no longer flowed—it churned, coiled, and whispered secrets beyond mortal comprehension.
Then, it struck.
A subtle crack echoed—not through stone or bone, but through the stillness of his very soul. The invisible barrier he had been pressing against for weeks gave way. His vision dimmed at the edges, not from fatigue, but from expansion—like a lantern too small for the flame it now contained.
Within his dantian, threads of Qi twisted into a spiral, folding inwards.
A whirlpool, seed-like and furious, formed at the center. It wasn't the Inner Sea, not yet—but its silhouette shimmered in the depths. The promise of it throbbed with every breath he took. For the first time, the Qi within him stirred toward the world beyond his flesh.
The boundary between self and sky thinned.
A faint pressure exuded from him, uninvited but undeniable. The insects of the forest fell silent. The wind no longer brushed past—it circled him, reverent, wary.
His aura—wild, embryonic—had awakened.
Shi Yao's eyes opened. They shimmered with a dangerous clarity, like tempered steel beneath moonlight.
He clenched his fist and opened it slowly. "So this is Pseudo-Foundation…" he whispered. "A faint illusion of Spiritual Qi is formed in the dantian. One must slowly refine it to a true sea to reach Foundation Establishment. I'm getting closer..."
He stood before a towering boulder and exhaled. One step forward. One clenched fist. One sudden blow.
Boom.
The stone erupted into fragments, dust clouding the air. The debris fell like rain.
"If this is the strength of Pseudo-Foundation," he thought, "then how overwhelming must true Foundation be?"
---
The next morning, the Celestial Wind Sect's outer competition reached its climax.
The arena groaned under the weight of spectators. Murmurs buzzed like insects, suppressed anticipation ready to burst into cheer or terror. The four sect elders sat in high-backed jade chairs, observing with unreadable gazes.
"The next match: Shi Yao versus Zi Hao," the announcer's voice rang out.
A hush fell.
Shi Yao landed lightly, the soles of his boots kissing the stone tiles with reverence. His black and gold robe swayed like a storm held in place. His dark hair flowed freely, catching motes of light.
Zi Hao descended with less grace, a crooked grin on his lips. "What a coincidence," he sneered. "The heavens must truly want you dead."
"You talk too big for someone who's going to lose," Shi Yao replied, his smirk razor-sharp.
The battle began.
Zi Hao launched fire bursts, flaming projectiles that hissed through the air. Shi Yao kept his hands behind his back, stepping aside like a shadow weaving between blades of light.
"What's wrong?" he asked mockingly. "Did you skip breakfast? Your attacks seem... hungry."
Zi Hao lost all composure, unleashing a furious barrage of flames. Shi Yao danced forward through the chaos, his body like flowing silk—untouchable, confident.
Zi Hao panicked.
"Impossible! Am I going to lose to this trash I once stepped on like a worm?!"
"No! There's no way—!"
A punch interrupted his denial.
It landed cleanly on his face, sending him flying across the arena. His body slammed into the wall, a crater forming behind him.
"Winner: Shi Yao!" the announcer declared.
Gasps filled the stands. Silence followed. Then a murmur, then a roar.
One by one, the remaining matches unfolded. As the sun reached its zenith, only one remained.
Shi Yao versus Hao Tian.
---
Moments before the final battle, the two met beneath the looming shadow of the arena's stone arch.
"Hey, man," Hao Tian said, arms crossed over his broad chest. "I saw your matches. Not bad. Hope you won't fall too easily."
"Lose?" Shi Yao smiled. "Who said I'm here to lose? I plan to win."
Hao Tian's brow furrowed. "You're one of those types, huh? The ones who get a bit of power and start thinking they're dragons. I'll show you what real strength is."
"I look forward to it," Shi Yao replied.
---
The clock struck noon. The sky hung still.
Shi Yao landed first. Hao Tian followed moments later.
"Time to see what a Body Refinement cultivator's made of," Shi Yao muttered, cracking his knuckles.
The two approached each other, their gazes locking.
Then, it happened.
A green aura flared from Shi Yao—feral, verdant, alive. From Hao Tian came a golden-yellow radiance, earthy and grounded. The two forces collided in the air, creating shockwaves that sent sand spiraling and debris flying.
The ground cracked.
A sect elder raised his hand, forming a translucent barrier around the arena, murmuring, "Too dangerous without containment…"
In the crowd, Li Rong's eyes widened.
"Brother…? But he couldn't even cultivate before… When—how…?"
Shi Yao and Hao Tian moved.
Their fists collided.
Boom.
A deafening shockwave tore through the arena. Stones cracked and tiles burst as the ground beneath them fractured. The sky seemed to bend.
The two combatants were blasted backward, sliding along the floor.
Shi Yao clenched his fist, energy crackling around it like caged lightning. "So the rumors are true. Body Refiners coat themselves in an aura that makes them nearly invulnerable. Breaking that will be troublesome."
Hao Tian's own thoughts were frantic. "That punch… too strong. This kid's nowhere near ordinary. How did someone like this escape my attention?"
They clashed again—and again. Fists collided at speeds too fast for the naked eye. They became blurs, trailing light: one green, one golden. They zigzagged across the arena, moving in concentric circles.
Boom!
Debris shot upward.
When the smoke cleared, everyone saw it: the arena's stone floor was carved with glowing green and yellow trails—like battle lines burned into the earth. They circled each other in expanding rings, weaving a pattern none could decipher.
The crowd erupted in shouts.
"Who are these two?!"
"I thought Lan Xin was the monster—what are they?!"
"They said Shi Yao was a cripple!"
---
Within the dust storm, Shi Yao leapt upward.
Hao Tian responded with a punch that sent him skyward, but Shi Yao twisted midair, landed on the edge of the barrier, and shot down like a meteor. His fist crashed into Hao Tian's chest, planting him into the ground. Debris flew skyward like a geyser.
Shi Yao landed atop him, fists pounding, relentless, calculating.
"Sturdy barrier…" he thought as he struck. "But even stone wears down."
For two minutes, his fists fell like thunder. Cracks formed.
Crack!
Finally, his punch broke through.
Hao Tian's head rocked back, blood spraying from his mouth.
"I surrender!" he gasped. "It's my loss!"
The barrier fell. The crowd erupted.
Medics rushed in.
"Every bone in his upper body's shattered!" a senior medic barked. "We need full restorative procedures—now!"
Hao Tian was carried off as the elders whispered among themselves.
Shi Yao stood alone in the center of the arena. His robes torn, his hair tousled, his chest rising and falling—but his eyes, cold and clear, gazed beyond the crowd.
Somewhere far beyond this competition, something stirred within him.
He had won.
But victory was only a footnote.
Now,something else had begun..