He rarely left the courtyard now. Meals, rest, and even sleep had faded into afterthoughts. His world had narrowed to a single, disciplined rhythm—fire, breath, and silence.
Every morning began with the first light of dawn. Every night ended when the moon stood high. The Heaven-Purifying Fire never truly went out anymore; it lingered as a faint silver ember in his palms, as if it shared his relentless will to continue.
Days blurred into weeks. Weeks turned to months. And before he realized it, years had slipped by.But Tian Lei did not waver.
Tier Six—that was his wall, his mountain, his horizon.And he had sworn to cross it.
The ingredients demanded perfection. A single breath too slow, a single pulse of qi too strong, and everything would collapse. Each failure shattered cauldrons, burned herbs, and left him covered in ash—but he never once looked away from the flame.
