The morning sun broke over the jagged crests of the Hidden Mountain Tiger Sect's inner realm, casting long golden beams across the mist-shrouded peaks. Inside his newly assigned cave abode on Crouching Tiger Peak, Tai Bàoli slowly opened his eyes.
A deep breath expanded his broad chest, his lungs pulling in the rich, invigorating Qi that permeated the inner sect. His body still carried a dull, lingering ache—the combined aftermath of his brutal life-and-death clash with the Palace Creation centipede and the sheer physical shock of forcibly raising his base attributes by several points in a single breath. Yet beneath that soreness was a terrifying reservoir of vitality. When Tai Bàoli swung his legs off the stone bed and stood, the stone floor beneath his boots gave a faint, protesting groan under his sheer density.
He blinked, and the familiar translucent system interface shimmered into view before his blood-red eyes.
---
-Unlimited Experience System-
-Host-(Tai Bàoli)
-Cultivation Stage-(Body Refining 8/9, Dao Condensing)
-Experience-(.5)
-Upgrade Cost: 1, amount upgraded per, .1-
-Strength-(20.5)(+4 from Basilisk Hide, +6 from Hammering Ogre Fist, +15 from Light Devouring Phantom Body)
-Dexterity-(20.4)(+15 from Light Devouring Phantom Body)
-Comprehension-(23)
-Martial Arts-
-Cost to Upgrade: 5 experience per grade, per rank-
-Light Devouring Phantom Body: Mastery Mid
-Hammering Ogre Fist: Mastery High
-Basilisk Hide: Mastery Mid
-Petrifying Mad Hammer Stance: Mastery High(Side Effects Detected: When used for more than 1 minute in combat consecutively the user begins petrifying themselves slightly. -1 dexterity for every minute after the user continues using the technique.)
-Martial Arts Eligible for Grade Increase-
-N/A-
-Martial Arts Eligible for Fusion-
-N/A
## -Upgrading a stat requires experience, gain experience in a myriad of ways-
Tai Bàoli stared at the numbers, his thoughts drifting to the invisible wall he had struck during his meditation the previous night. At 20.5 base Strength and 20.4 base Dexterity, he possessed enough raw physical might to pulverize steel and outrun the wind. Yet the threshold into Palace Creation remained firmly barred. It wasn't a matter of muscle or sinew; it was an emptiness in his foundation. He had sprinted through the stages of Body Refining on the back of his system without ever stopping to understand the very philosophy of martial cultivation.
"One step at a time," Tai Bàoli muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. "First, chores. Then, brains."
He exited his abode into the cool mountain air. The vast expanse of Crouching Tiger Peak stretched out before him, quiet and wild. Decades of neglect were evident everywhere: cracked marble steps covered in thick green moss, courtyard flagstones choked with invasive thornvines, and fallen pine branches littering the winding mountain pathways.
Tai Bàoli walked around the main pavilion and found a dilapidated tool shed. Leaning against the wall was a ridiculously oversized broom made from a hardened ironwood branch bound with stiff wild bristles.
Gripping the handle, he cracked his neck and grinned. With his monstrous 42.5 augmented strength and 32 dexterity, manual labor was no longer grueling work—it was child's play.
*SWOOSH! SWOOSH!*
Tai Bàoli moved across the grand courtyard like an ethereal blur. He didn't merely sweep; he generated small whirlwinds with every stroke of the ironwood broom. Fallen leaves, loose gravel, rotting twigs, and encroaching brambles were violently swept aside and gathered into massive, neat mounds along the perimeter. When he encountered thick tree roots cracking through the marble walkways, he simply tapped his heel, using the subtle crushing force of his basilisk hide to hammer the stone flat again.
He was in the middle of heaving a three-hundred-pound fallen boulder out of a drainage ditch when a startled gasp broke the morning quiet.
Tai Bàoli turned around, the massive boulder held casually above his shoulder with one arm.
Standing on the pathway below was Senior Brother Qua Yinzi. The young man looked to be about nineteen, with rumpled grey robes, messy dark hair tied haphazardly with a leather cord, and perpetually exhausted dark circles under his eyes. He held a wooden water bucket in one hand, completely frozen as he stared at Tai Bàoli, then at the spotlessly gleaming courtyard, and finally at the six-foot-tall pile of uprooted vegetation stacked near the cliff edge.
"Junior Brother Tai..." Qua Yinzi said slowly, his voice laced with bewildered exhaustion. "Did Master order you to sweep the peak, or did you decide to remodel the mountain?"
Tai Bàoli gave an embarrassed laugh, gently setting the three-hundred-pound boulder down onto the grass. "Ah, morning, Senior Brother Qua! The mission said to clean up, so I figured I might as well do a thorough job. It looked like nobody had touched this courtyard since the sect was founded."
Qua Yinzi sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That is because nobody *has* touched it. Master doesn't care for vanity, and I spend most of my time trying to keep the pill furnaces from exploding or transcribing old scrolls. Just... please don't sweep away the stone balustrades. Some of the masonry is older than the elders."
"Got it, Senior Brother. I'll be gentle."
Qua Yinzi gave a faint, tired nod of approval, his eyes lingering on Tai Bàoli's effortless posture. "You're a strange one, Junior Brother. But at least the place looks like people actually live here now."
With that, the senior brother shuffled off toward his own quarters, still muttering under his breath about mountain chores.
Tai Bàoli spent another hour clearing the grand staircase down to the mountain waist, scraping away moss and clearing stray boulders until the white stone shone beneath the sun. As he wiped the sweat from his forehead and tossed the broom aside, a pleasant chime echoed in his mind.
---
-Repeatable Mission One: (Clean the Mountain Peak!) - COMPLETED-
-+0.5 Experience-
-----------------
Tai Bàoli grinned at the small reward. Even a simple morning of work could help him accumulate experience.
With the first task complete, he turned his attention to the second requirement: learning more about cultivation.
Tai Bàoli made his way back up to the peak's grand central pavilion. Inside, the vast hall was constructed of pale jade and polished obsidian, cool and silent. At the far end of the hall, seated atop a simple woven rush mat, was Great Elder Yi.
The elderly peak master looked as unassuming as ever, with his hunched posture, silver-and-black hair tied in a modest ponytail, and a silver walking stick resting across his lap. His milky, blind eye stared off into space, but his luminous sky-blue eye fixed immediately onto Tai Bàoli the moment he crossed the threshold.
"Disciple greets Master," Tai Bàoli said respectfully, bowing with cupped fists.
"Sit, Young Tai," Great Elder Yi said, his voice gravelly yet carrying a natural, soothing resonance.
Tai Bàoli sat cross-legged on a mat opposite his master, trying his best to look composed. However, under the elder's piercing blue gaze, he felt completely transparent.
Elder Yi stroked his sparse beard and let out a dry chuckle. "Your body is like forged iron, your blood flows with the vigor of a raging river, and your movement carries the strange chill of the void. Yet, your Qi swirls aimlessly within your meridians like a headless sparrow trapped in a cage. You have reached the Dao Condensing stage, yet you sit before me completely bewildered. Tell me, boy—what is troubling you?"
Tai Bàoli scratched the back of his neck, his face turning slightly red. He knew there was no point in hiding his ignorance from the man who had taken him in as a direct disciple.
"Master... I don't really understand Dao Condensing," Tai Bàoli admitted bluntly. "In the earlier stages, it was simple. Strength Training made my muscles twice as strong. Flesh Training made me take hits. Viscera Training strengthened my organs, Altering Muscle gave me flexibility, Bone Forging hardened my skeleton, and Tempering Marrow cleansed my blood. But Dao Condensing... I tried meditating on it for hours, and I didn't feel anything change. How do I condense my heart?"
Elder Yi raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "How do you condense your heart? What were you attempting to do during your meditation?"
Tai Bàoli hesitated, feeling foolish. "Well... I tried speeding up my heartbeat to see if I could refine the muscle of my heart like I did during Viscera Training. I thought maybe if I compressed my heart into iron, my Dao would form."
*PFFFFT!*
Great Elder Yi choked on his own breath, coughing dryly into his sleeve as he looked at Tai Bàoli with a mixture of disbelief and utter hilarity.
"Refine... refine the meat of your heart?!" Elder Yi wheezed, rapping his silver staff lightly against the stone floor. "Heavens above! If you compress your physical heart into iron, you will simply die of a burst chest! Who in the world taught you martial fundamentals?"
Tai Bàoli's face burned bright crimson. "Nobody, Master! I grew up plowing fields and hauling grain in a poor village! The only martial manual I saw before joining the sect was whatever scrap of paper the village chief had!"
Elder Yi shook his head, his laughter subsiding into a warm, gentle sigh. "Sit straight, foolish disciple, and listen closely."
Tai Bàoli immediately straightened his posture, listening intently.
"Cultivation up to the seventh stage—Tempering Marrow—is entirely focused on refining the mortal vessel," Elder Yi explained, his tone becoming serious. "It is the process of turning weak clay into tempered steel. But Dao Condensing is the bridge between the mortal body and the heavens. It is the first stage where your physical strength alone is meaningless without your *will*."
Elder Yi pointed a weathered finger at Tai Bàoli's chest. "A 'Dao Heart' is not an organ. It is your conviction. It is the core truth of who you are, why you fight, and what path you intend to carve through this world. When you reach Palace Creation, you will use your Qi and blood to build a Dao Palace within your Dantian. But if you have no conviction, what blueprint will you use? A palace built without a foundation of will is nothing more than a hollow shell. It will collapse the moment you attempt to absorb heaven and earth Qi in the Qi Gathering Realm."
Tai Bàoli sat motionless, the elder's words striking him like a series of heavy hammer blows.
*A blueprint of will...*
Elder Yi leaned forward, his sky-blue eye locking onto Tai Bàoli's vibrant red eyes. "Tell me, Tai Bàoli. Why do you cultivate? Is it for boundless wealth? For the glory of a clan? Is it to dominate the weak, or to seek eternal life?"
Tai Bàoli looked down at his calloused hands.
He thought of the cold, drafty shed he had slept in for years. He thought of the village chief looking down on him as nothing more than cheap labor. He thought of the arrogant young masters like Seung Duang, who believed that birthright and clan heritage made them inherently superior to everyone else.
He remembered fighting the thousand-legged centipede in the dark cave—the suffocating weight of fear, the agony of his bones fracturing, and the singular, burning refusal inside him to lay down and die.
Tai Bàoli looked up, his blood-red eyes burning with absolute clarity.
"I cultivate because I never want to be helpless again," Tai Bàoli said, his voice steady and low. "I don't care about starting a great clan, and I don't care about ruling over people. But I despise being told what my limits are just because I was born a peasant. I want an unyielding body that nothing can break. I want strength so absolute that no clan, no sect, and no beast can ever force me to bow."
Silence hung in the grand pavilion for several long moments.
Great Elder Yi stared at his young disciple, his weathered face slowly breaking into a wide, proud grin.
"An unyielding path," Elder Yi murmured, nodding slowly. "Simple. Stubborn. Pure. It lacks the elegance of the sword scholars or the detachment of the immortal seekers, but it possesses the weight of an unmovable mountain. That conviction, Young Tai, is the seed of your Dao Heart."
Elder Yi waved his sleeve dismissively. "Do not rush to force a breakthrough. Let that conviction take root. Let every strike you throw and every breath you take align with that will. When your mind and body are entirely united in that purpose, your Dao Palace will construct itself naturally."
As the elder finished speaking, a soft chime rang in Tai Bàoli's vision.
---
-Repeatable Mission Two: (Learn More About cultivation) - COMPLETED-
-+0.5 Experience-
-----------------
Tai Bàoli let out a long, slow breath. The suffocating barrier that had blocked his thoughts since yesterday felt as though it had cracked slightly, letting in a beam of light. He bowed deeply to the elder. "Disciple thanks Master for his guidance!"
"Go, go," Elder Yi chuckled, waving his hand. "Go digest what you have learned. And stop trying to turn your internal organs into iron blocks."
Tai Bàoli grinned sheepishly, stood, and walked out of the pavilion.
With the afternoon sun still hanging high, his mind was too restless to sit in his cave. Instead, he decided to explore the deeper, uninhabited regions of Crouching Tiger Peak. He followed a winding, overgrown dirt trail that led behind the main disciples' quarters toward the rugged eastern cliffs.
He walked for nearly half an hour, navigating through dense thickets of silver bamboo and jagged grey boulders, until the air grew noticeably colder. The ambient Qi around him shifted, carrying a sharp, oppressive weight that made the hairs on his arms stand up.
Pushing through a dense wall of thorny black briers, Tai Bàoli suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Before him lay a narrow, sheer gorge cutting deep into the mountain. Thick, unnatural grey mist churned within the abyss, completely swallowing the bottom of the ravine.
At the entrance of the gorge stood an ancient, crumbling stone archway. Carved deeply into the lintel were four massive, weathered characters that radiated a faint, terrifying pressure:
**TIGER'S REFLECTION ABYSS**
The cliff walls surrounding the archway were mangled beyond belief. Deep, colossal gouges that looked like dragon claws were carved into the granite, alongside massive crater-like depressions where the solid stone had been pulverized to dust by unimaginably violent impacts.
At the foot of the archway sat a cracked stone stele covered in moss. Tai Bàoli stepped forward, brushing the dirt away to reveal a line of carved text:
*"Here, I severed my doubts and forged an unyielding heart in blood and isolation. He who enters seeking power will find only death; he who enters seeking truth must be prepared to shatter his own bones."*
Tai Bàoli's blood ran hot. The lingering aura embedded in the stone didn't belong to some ancient ancestor—the subtle resonance of the Qi was unmistakable.
It belonged to Great Elder Yi in his youth.
As Tai Bàoli reached toward the weathered archway, a sudden, suffocating pressure descended from the abyss like an invisible mountain.
The ambient air turned bitterly cold. Loose pebbles around his boots trembled violently, rattling across the granite ledge before fracturing into fine powder under the sheer weight of the lingering Dao intent. Tai Bàoli let out a low grunt, his muscles tensing and his bones groaning under the crushing force. Even with his formidable physique and tempered marrow, the sheer sharpness of the aura made his breath hitch in his throat.
This was no ordinary ravine. It had clearly been left behind by Great Elder Yi as a personal crucible—a trial ground carved in solitude when the elder had forged his own unyielding path. Whatever truly lay at the bottom remained a complete mystery, but the oppressive intent alone was enough to warn away any cultivator with faint resolve.
Yet staring into the churning grey depths, Tai Bàoli felt no desire to turn back. His stubborn, unrelenting drive to grow stronger and forge a path entirely his own flared fiercely within his chest.
Steeling his heart, Tai Bàoli adjusted his grip on his sweeping broom, lowered his stance, and cautiously crossed beneath the stone archway into the thick, swirling mist.
The moment the fog enveloped him, the wind outside ceased entirely. Deep within the fathomless darkness below, the heavy mist shifted unnaturally, and a low, resonant vibration began to hum through the rock, reverberating straight into the depths of his soul.