Shi Yang walked back through the mist-damp forest, each step heavier than the last, until the blackened trunk of the fallen tree came into view. Its heart still burned faintly, a stubborn ember clinging to life within the soaked wood. He lowered himself to the ground before it, folding his legs. His body was raw, aching, yet the cold flame coiling in his chest gave him the steadiness to endure.
He closed his eyes.
The caveman body sat cross-legged in the mud, scarred hands resting upon his knees, breath sinking into the rhythm of the fire's glow. Slowly, so faintly at first he thought it a trick, the scorched air entered him—not as oxygen, but as something deeper. His flesh, crude and ancient, seemed to drink from the ember's glow. A whisper of Fire Dao wound itself into his marrow, not drawn, but absorbed.
Somewhere else—within the dark-green canopy before the door between the trees—his inner spirit body stirred. The faint sprout of Wood Dao that had always clung to him quivered, roots stretching into the unseen soil. Before the silent, imperceptible door, his body sat in shadow, green essence flowing like sap through translucent veins.
And further still—in a place far away, hidden in the storm above—another version of himself shifted. That body, youthful and unrefined, his teenage frame, sat in lotus meditation. Around it, the faint ripples of water essence gathered, blue light dripping from air as if his body had called to it instinctively. His unconscious mind bathed in the slow tide of Water Dao.
Three forms. Three selves. Three streams.
They did not remain apart.
The water swirled, flowing down into wood. The wood grew, fueling the fire. And the fire blazed, rising upward, boiling the water into mist. Each fed the next, a cycle completed, a perfect harmony.
Shi Yang gasped, eyes snapping open in the caveman body. The flames surged inside his chest, not merely burning but refining. His crude meridians stretched and tore, then healed in an instant, wider and stronger than before. Rust and wood braided with the fire, each strand no longer fractured but woven tight. His entire being thrummed with force, every heartbeat like a war drum shaking the air.
In the spirit space before the door, the patterns etched upon its surface flickered faintly, as if acknowledging his breath. Leaves unfurled across his translucent body, roots coiling beneath him, drinking deeply of the new tide.
And in the bed of his mimic world, his form glowed bright as rivers of Water Dao surged through it, washing away the stagnation of ages, deepening the calm of his core.
Three lives aligned.
Three flames wove into one.
And his cultivation… soared.
Qi Refinement Realm was shattered and reformed; first stage—second—third—his veins flooded with essence. The pulse rose higher, walls shattering like dry reeds before a flood—yet it didn't end there. Somehow he witnessed the stages between. This realm wasn't just composed of early, middle, and late.
It was sectioned, and he could feel every single point.
Fourth, fifth, sixth—his chest swelled as if he would burst. Seventh, eighth—the cycles spun faster, the fire roaring, wood spiraling, water surging. Ninth. Peak.
Then silence.
The forest hushed. The embers of the blackened tree bent toward him, as if bowing. The mist coiled close, dampening the sound of insects and beasts alike.
He opened his eyes. They burned faintly with a triple gleam—flame-red, leaf-green, water-blue. His caveman body was still crude, but power pulsed through it, undeniable, terrifying. He flexed his fingers, and the daggers at his side quivered in answer, rust-etched fangs hungry for his command.
Far away, back in the auction hall, his true body stirred. Shi Yang's eyes snapped open, his spirit slamming back into flesh. His chest rose and fell beneath the plain robe he wore, heart hammering with the force of three Daos aligned. To anyone watching, nothing seemed amiss. He simply sat there, pale, quiet, unremarkable.
But high above, in the velvet-curtained booths where only the Fountain Realm experts reclined, one pair of eyes narrowed.
The elder's breath caught. For an instant, a ripple of force—subtle, perfect, like the natural unfolding of the heavens—had stirred from below. Water feeding wood, wood feeding fire, fire boiling water into mist. A trinity, not clashing but harmonized. Impossible.
His gaze swept the crowd, but no one else stirred. Only he had felt it. The pulse had been buried, smothered quickly, hidden within a shell of mediocrity. Yet he knew what he had sensed.
"Whoever you are…" the old expert murmured to himself, voice low as a tide. "You carry a dangerous fate. To hold such strength so soon is to court tribulation's wrathful gaze."
And below, Shi Yang simply exhaled. Calm. Steady. As though nothing at all had changed.
—
The auctioneer's voice rang with satisfaction, announcing the sale of a seven-spotted Cocoon Stream Butterfly for two hundred top-grade spirit stones—a ten percent cut from four hundred thousand gold.
Shi Yang's breathing was still uneven as he composed himself, the aftershocks of meditation hidden beneath his calm façade.
"Done meditating so soon?" Han Jie asked, tilting her head as she held up a small red pill bottle. Her eyes lingered on him, catching the rough edge of his breath.
"I'm fine…" he exhaled slowly, then nodded toward her hand. "Looks like you've found your bid. What about me? Anything good?"
Han Jie shook her head. "Not yet. I had my eyes on a water lizard, but I was outbid. We can't throw stones around carelessly with what's left."
"Really? How much do we still have?" Shi Yang asked, turning as attendants carried in a new cage holding a wolf-like beast.
"Thirty-two," she replied. "After you went into meditation, I did as you said and secured two earth spirit beasts—one for fifty, another for sixty-two. Then a Blazing Red Centipede appeared, and I bid for it as well. Won it for sixty-two mid-grade spirit stones." She held up the pill bottle like a trophy.
"That's nothing to be proud of when all you've left Uncle Shi with is thirty spirit stones," Xiu Mei interjected sharply, stroking little Yoke in her lap as she slipped the childlike tiger cub another pill.
Han Jie bristled immediately, and the two began to bicker. Shi Yang gave an awkward smile as nearby guests turned to stare.
"Enough. Calm down—it's fine," he cut in, raising his hand to quiet them. "I already have a set of pills on the way. We'll manage. There's still time to see if we can use the rest on something worthwhile."
The next cage rolled out, the bars shimmering faintly with water essence. Inside slithered a sleek Water Spirit Beast, its scales gleaming like liquid silver under the lanterns.
Shi Yang's eyes lit up. Perfect.
The auctioneer's chant began, and Shi Yang joined the bidding. His voice was steady, every raise calculated, but competition was fierce. The numbers climbed higher and higher, until the final cry was called—and the Water Spirit Beast was taken by another bidder in the upper rows.
Han Jie's expression tightened. Xiu Mei leaned back, her gaze sharp with thinly veiled blame.
The auction dragged on. Shi Yang bid sparingly, waiting, hoping for another water-aligned spirit. None appeared. The final cages were wheeled in—among them a Fire Spirit Beast, its body wreathed in faint embers, heat curling off its scales like smoke.
Not ideal. But with only a handful of stones left, it was the only choice.
When the hammer fell, Shi Yang held the winning bid.
Silence hung between them as the beast was taken away to be processed for delivery. Han Jie pressed her lips together, unwilling to speak. Xiu Mei's eyes burned into her like knives.
"You wasted too much too soon," Xiu Mei said coldly, her tone carrying a finality that cut through the air. "Now Uncle Shi had to settle for something useless. If you hadn't—"
"Don't act like you're any better," Han Jie snapped back, her patience fraying. "If you think you can do better, then you should be the one bidding!"
Their voices rose, sharp enough to draw looks again. Shi Yang only exhaled, rubbing at his temples.
The auctioneer's voice rang out like a bell, silencing the whispers and the tension between Han Jie and Xiu Mei.
"Distinguished guests, the beast auction has now concluded. But for those whose purses remain unlightened, do not be disheartened. The hall has prepared special sets for the Qi Refinement Realm—techniques, ingredients, weapons, and even… slaves."
A ripple coursed through the crowd. Merchants straightened, cultivators leaned forward, and even some of the upper-floor experts cracked their eyes open.
"The first package," the auctioneer continued, gesturing toward the stage as attendants wheeled out a long glass tank, "contains a water-themed sword technique scroll, a fine saber, one rare water pill, and a live barbarian—fish lineage."
Gasps and low murmurs followed as the tank was revealed. Within it, submerged in pristine water lined with pale herbs and drifting leaves, floated a figure. Long scales glimmered across her legs, fins trailing like silken banners. Her pale blue skin gleamed faintly beneath the lantern light, and her hair, like flowing seafoam, swirled around delicate horns. She wore a white silk top that clung to her, its fine weave utterly unsuited to chains, giving her a regal bearing despite captivity.
Han Jie leaned forward, her lips parting. Xiu Mei glanced away, brows furrowed. Shi Yang, however, only frowned, eyes dimming with disinterest.
"Not my concern," he murmured. A water pill, a blade, a fish barbarian—none of it compared to what he needed. His focus was elsewhere.
The auctioneer smiled knowingly, drawing out the anticipation. "But first…" He clapped his hands. "Surely you all are thirsty, after so many hours of bidding?"
A wave of attendants stepped onto the stage. With a sudden, practiced strike, they slammed their palms against the tank.
Shatter—!
Water erupted outward, glass fragments bursting in a storm of shards. Yet instead of scattering wildly, the pieces folded, melted mid-air, reforming into crystal goblets that spun across the hall. Each cup caught a stream of water from the tank, but when it touched glass, the liquid shimmered, deepened, and turned a luminous crimson—wine.
One by one, the cups drifted to the hands of every guest.
Shi Yang caught his, brows furrowing as he raised it. Just as his lips were about to touch the rim, a droplet slid down the side, landing against his fingers.
The instant it touched his skin, the Sweat-Drinking Dragon Scriptures within him quivered. The lines of his cultivation art pulsed, every pore drinking in the stray drop. His chest jolted with heat, his scripture roaring alive.
And then he saw.
This was no mere "fish barbarian." Not some lesser, feminine pet to be kept in chains. This was a woman. A true woman of flesh and blood, not a dressed-up male companion, but one of the rarest treasures.
In this world, no pill, no beast, no weapon could compare to her at this moment.
His fingers clenched faintly around the cup. The air seemed to thrum, as though the heavens themselves whispered of fate.
The auctioneer raised his hand high.
"The bidding for this package begins at… one gold!"
The hall erupted in chaos. Voices rose like fire, cultivators leaning forward, greed lighting every gaze.
But Shi Yang only sat there, eyes burning faintly with a triple gleam—flame-red, leaf-green, and water-blue.
Not disinterest. Not anymore.
This was no package. This was destiny.