The mourning bells of the Cang Family estate tolled for three days and nights. The once-mighty halls that echoed with training shouts now trembled only with grief. The air was thick with incense and sorrow; black banners hung from the roofs, their ends fluttering weakly in the mountain wind.
In the main courtyard, hundreds of disciples and servants knelt in silence, heads bowed low before the memorial tablet of Patriarch Cang Jianhong. His name, freshly engraved in golden characters, gleamed faintly under the dim torchlight.
Lady Cang Lian stood in front of the altar, her white mourning robes soaked with tears. Elder Shen, standing beside her, carried the gravity of loss and duty in equal measure. Behind them, Zhang Wei, Han Yu, and Pan Qiang knelt as well, their eyes burning quietly—not as members of the clan, but as witnesses to a legacy slipping into chaos.
When the third sunrise came, the mourning period ended. And with it, came the inevitable storm.
Three days after the patriarch's passing, the grand Hall of the Soaring Falcon filled once again—not with incense, but with ambition.
The clan's elders, branch leaders, and representatives gathered under the towering wooden beams carved with the family's emblem. The tension was palpable. Half the seats aligned to Cang Lian's side, led by Elder Shen and several alchemy and medicine elders. The other half gathered behind Cang De, whose expression remained calm yet sharp like a drawn blade.
At the center, before the ancestral dais, stood Cang Lian. She was pale but unshaken. The faint light from the skylight caught the tears she no longer allowed herself to shed.
She bowed before the elders, voice steady."Honored elders, uncles, and fellow disciples. My father, the late Patriarch Cang Jianhong, entrusted the clan's seal and treasure to me before his passing. His final wish was that I continue his duty and uphold the honor of the Cang Family. Today, I stand before you to fulfill that wish."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Some nodded in approval, others whispered doubt.
Then Cang De rose slowly from his seat, the heavy folds of his robe brushing the floor like the sound of an unsheathed sword.
"Niece," he said, his tone calm but laced with condescension. "You speak boldly for someone so young. But you must understand—leadership requires more than bloodline and sentiment. The clan stands on the edge of peril. We need experience, not inexperience guided by grief."
His eyes gleamed as he smiled faintly. "Furthermore, what can a young woman do to manage the affairs of our family? The Cang bear the burden of both sword and seal. I propose you hand me the clan seal for now. When you have grown and proven yourself, I will return it to you."
The words struck like a whip. The hall fell into uneasy silence.
Cang Lian's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palm. "Uncle," she said softly but firmly, "my father trusted you once. And he saw what became of that trust. His final command was clear: I am to lead the clan, and Elder Shen is to assist me. To go against that wish is to go against the Patriarch himself."
Cang De's smile vanished. His tone turned cold. "Careful, Lian'er. You are accusing your elders of disobedience to a dead man's words. Do you have proof of these so-called 'final wishes'?"
Before she could answer, Elder Shen stepped forward."I was there when he spoke those words," the old man declared, his voice carrying across the chamber. "I, Shen Liang, swear it upon my cultivation and life. The late Patriarch's command was absolute."
Several elders murmured agreement. Others nodded, unwilling to oppose Shen openly.
Cang De's jaw tightened. "And yet, Elder Shen, you would have us entrust the clan to an untested child?"
"She is her father's daughter," Shen replied sharply. "And she carries the blood of the patriarch's line. That alone makes her the rightful head!"
The crowd began to divide—shouts rising, voices clashing.
Then came another voice, firm yet controlled.
"We agree," said Zhang Wei, stepping forward from the side of the hall. Han Yu and Pan Qiang followed behind him, their presence instantly drawing attention.
The murmurs fell silent as all eyes turned toward the trio.
Cang De's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And who are you," he said coolly, "to involve yourself in the affairs of the Cang Family?"
Zhang Wei bowed respectfully. "We are not clan members, Elder Cang. But we have seen who stood by the Patriarch in his final days—and who did not."
The words struck deeper than any sword.
Han Yu added, his tone like ice, "The late Patriarch's trust was not misplaced. Lady Cang Lian has the heart and strength to lead. Those who truly serve the clan will follow her."
A faint ripple of approval spread through the elders on Cang Lian's side. Cang De's lips curled ever so slightly, but his aura flared—a cold, suffocating pressure that crept through the hall like a serpent of frost.
"So," Cang De said softly. "Even outsiders dare to speak for our family now."
The air thickened. Disciples nearby trembled as Cang De's Qi spread outward, the faint hum of spiritual energy vibrating through the wooden beams.
But Zhang Wei stood his ground, steady and calm.
Cang De's smile faded, replaced by the faint glint of killing intent. "Careful, boy. You tread close to matters that can end lives."
Elder Shen stepped between them, slamming his staff down. "Enough! The Patriarch's wishes are final. Those who defy them are defying the Cang Family itself!"
A loud argument erupted among the elders. Half shouted for tradition, demanding Cang De take control "for stability," while the other half rallied behind Cang Lian's rightful inheritance.
The air was filled with roaring voices, spiritual auras clashing faintly like a battlefield of wills. Some disciples drew weapons instinctively before being pulled back by their seniors.
Cang De's supporters banged their fists against the table."Do you wish to see the Cang Family torn apart by a child's stubbornness?""Order must be restored!""The Patriarch is gone—someone must take command now!"
But the elders loyal to Cang Lian refused to yield."You'll have to take that seal by force if you mean to steal it!""Over my dead body!"
The hall trembled with killing intent, threads of Qi swirling as invisible tension thickened to a breaking point.
Lady Cang Lian clutched the clan seal close to her chest, her gaze unwavering. "If this is what my father built—a house ready to devour itself—then let the heavens judge who truly upholds his legacy."
Her words silenced the chamber for a heartbeat.
Cang De's eyes gleamed with quiet fury. He turned slowly, hands folded behind his back. "So be it. If the elders wish for her to lead, let her try. Let her survive what leadership means."
He gave one last look to Zhang Wei, Han Yu, and Pan Qiang—a look sharp enough to draw blood. "But do not think this is over."
As he left the hall, his spiritual pressure lingered like smoke—chilling and venomous.
That night, whispers spread through the manor like wildfire. Cang De's men were seen gathering in secret, calling loyal guards to his courtyard. Rumors claimed he was mustering his faction's strength, preparing to "restore order" by force if necessary.
Even the most neutral elders began to take sides. The Cang Family was no longer a clan—it was a cauldron ready to boil over.
Elder Shen convened a small meeting in secret chambers with Cang Lian, Zhang Wei, and the others. His face was grim. "He's preparing to strike. We must protect the seal at all costs. Until we secure loyal guards, none of you are to move alone."
Han Yu's eyes narrowed. "Let him come. We'll be ready."
Zhang Wei, however, remained quiet. His thoughts lingered elsewhere—on power, on preparation, and on what awaited him next.
Later that night, under the moonlit pines of the Cang Family's outer gardens, Zhang Wei sat cross-legged. The world was silent save for the soft whisper of the wind and the rhythmic beating of his heart.
His meridians pulsed faintly, the energy within his dantian swirling like a rising tide. The jade pendant at his chest glowed faintly, its warmth sinking deep into his body.
Then a familiar voice echoed—not spoken, but felt.
"You have seen deceit, death, and the weight of power. But strength is not in defiance—it is in control. Learn the harmony of pain and Qi."
Zhang Wei's breathing slowed. Images flickered in his mind—ancient diagrams, glowing silhouettes of meridians, and golden needles piercing acupoints in rhythmic sequence.
"Each point is a gate," the voice continued, "and each gate, when unlocked by balance, unleashes potential buried within the flesh."
He felt his spiritual energy condense, pure and dense. Threads of jade light coursed through his veins, following the rhythm the pendant taught him.
When he opened his eyes, a faint aura rippled outward—the mark of someone who had broken through.
Middle Qi Gathering Realm.
He exhaled slowly, steam rising from his skin.
"Acupuncture as a bridge… to awaken potential," he murmured. "So that's the secret…"
The pendant pulsed once, as if approving.
But as he looked toward the distant manor halls, where torches still burned through the night, Zhang Wei's heart grew heavy.
A day passed after Zhang Wei's breakthrough. The dawn came soft and mist-laden, with sunlight breaking gently through the bamboo grove behind the alchemy wing. The scent of herbs drifted through the corridors, sharp and sweet — the fragrance of pills being refined by early-rising disciples.
Zhang Wei, dressed in a simple white robe, made his way through the quiet halls. His steps were light but steady — the confidence of one who had crossed a threshold. Within him, the newly stabilized Qi of the Middle Qi Gathering Realm flowed like a calm yet powerful river.
He stopped before a secluded chamber at the far end of the alchemy courtyard. Faint light flickered from inside — the rhythmic pulse of a cultivator's aura in meditation.
"Elder Shen?" Zhang Wei called softly.
From within, a gentle hum of spiritual energy subsided, and a voice replied, calm yet tinged with age. "Come in, child."
Zhang Wei entered and bowed respectfully. The room was simple — shelves of ancient scrolls, racks of cauldrons, and a small furnace glowing faintly red. Elder Shen sat cross-legged near the center, his white beard resting on his chest, his eyes slowly opening with serene focus.
Zhang Wei clasped his hands. "Elder Shen, forgive the disturbance. I wished to ask… what realm are you currently in?"
The old man chuckled softly, his gaze kind yet weary. "Ah, curiosity suits a young cultivator." He leaned back slightly, the faint light of Qi still flickering around him. "I stand at the middle stage of the Nascent Soul Realm — but only in title. My strength lies not in combat but in alchemy. The years have dulled the flame of my Qi."
He sighed, the sound heavy with quiet resignation. "I've taken more pills, elixirs, and spiritual treasures than I can count. Yet none could push me past the bottleneck that binds me. Age, Zhang Wei… age robs the body's spark, even when the spirit refuses to fade."
Zhang Wei's brows furrowed slightly. "So… you've been stuck for long?"
Elder Shen nodded. "For over thirty years. I can still refine spirit-grade elixirs, still sense the rhythm of heaven and earth — but I can no longer merge them within myself. The dantian weakens, the meridians stiffen. That is the price of time. I have long accepted it."
For a moment, silence filled the room. The furnace crackled softly, the golden light reflecting on the elder's lined face.
Then Zhang Wei spoke, voice quiet but sure. "Elder Shen… what if I said I know a way to help you cross that bottleneck?"
The old man blinked. "You?" He chuckled, though not mockingly. "You are talented, boy, but even great physicians cannot rewrite the body's limits. My potential has already burned away."
Zhang Wei met his gaze, unwavering. "Not burned away — just sealed."
Elder Shen raised an eyebrow. "Sealed?"
Zhang Wei nodded. "Your years of elixir refinement left behind layers of medicinal essence within your meridians — sleeping energy you never absorbed fully. With the right acupuncture method, I can stimulate those latent points and release that dormant Qi. It will be painful, and it will test your endurance. But… if you trust me, I believe you can still ascend."
The elder's smile faltered. For a long moment, he said nothing — only stared into the dancing firelight.
Finally, he sighed deeply. "Pain no longer frightens me, Zhang Wei. What frightens me is leaving this world without doing enough for the clan." He looked toward the window, where faint wind rustled the hanging herbs. "If I can become stronger… even for a little while longer, then I can protect her — protect Lady Lian from what's to come."
He looked back at Zhang Wei, resolve hardening in his eyes. "Do it. I place my trust in you."
Zhang Wei nodded and took out a small wooden case from his sleeve. Inside lay nine silver needles — each glinting faintly with a golden hue, refined by his own Qi.
"Then, Elder Shen," he said softly, "steady your breath. I'll begin."
The elder closed his eyes, his breathing evening out as his spiritual aura condensed around him. Zhang Wei moved behind him, tracing his fingers lightly along the elder's back, feeling the pulse of spiritual channels beneath the skin.
"First Gate — Yuan Spine."
The first needle slid in, piercing an acupoint near the elder's spine. Elder Shen grunted, his shoulders tensing. A ripple of dormant Qi flickered beneath the surface.
"Second Gate — Meridian of Breath."
Another needle sank in. This time, the elder's body trembled slightly, a faint golden mist seeping from his pores.
By the sixth needle, the elder's face twisted in strain. His meridians flared with violent light, and his suppressed Qi began to surge wildly like a volcano awakening after centuries.
"Zhang Wei… this—!"
"Endure it, Elder Shen! The pain is the seal breaking!" Zhang Wei's voice rang firm. His hands moved swiftly, inserting the seventh, eighth, and finally, the ninth needle.
As the last one pierced the crown of the elder's head, the room exploded in light.
A deafening boom reverberated through the alchemy wing. The cauldrons rattled, shelves shook, and a torrent of Qi erupted from Elder Shen's body like a storm unleashed.
The air turned heavy — suffocating — as golden light surged, spiraling around the old man. His spiritual core pulsed violently, breaking apart the thin shell of stagnation that bound it.
Zhang Wei stumbled back, shielding his face as the light intensified. "He's… breaking through!"
Outside, disciples in the courtyard gasped as the sky above the Cang estate flashed with radiant gold. A pillar of energy pierced the heavens, rippling through the mountain peaks.
In every corner of the estate, cultivators paused in awe. Even Cang De, deep within his private hall, opened his eyes sharply as his wine cup trembled in his hand.
"What in the heavens…?"
Inside the chamber, Elder Shen's voice roared like thunder. "Spirit… Ascension—!"
His aura surged one last time, before condensing into stillness. The wild pressure faded, leaving behind an air of calm majesty.
The old man slowly opened his eyes — and for the first time in decades, they gleamed bright and sharp like twin suns. His body trembled, not from weakness, but from newfound strength.
He looked at his hands, then at Zhang Wei — and smiled. "Half-step… Spirit Ascension Realm. You did it, boy. You truly did it."
Zhang Wei smiled faintly, sweat beading on his forehead. "No, Elder. You did. I only opened the gates — the rest was already within you."
Elder Shen chuckled, his laughter deep and rejuvenated. "Ha! It's been so long since I felt the world so vividly. The Qi of heaven and earth… it sings again."
Then, his expression softened. "Zhang Wei, this gift you've given me — I will remember it till my last breath."
Zhang Wei bowed. "Then promise me this, Elder Shen — protect Lady Lian. No matter what comes next."
The old man's eyes glimmered with solemn resolve. "You have my word."
Outside, disciples knelt instinctively, sensing the vast aura spreading across the sky. Rumors spread within minutes — that Elder Shen Liang of the Alchemy Wing had shattered his decades-long bottleneck and ascended beyond his limits.