Night fell heavy over Shang Academy, and Zhen Zenin sat beneath a quiet moon in the secluded training grounds. The wind was still, the stars veiled. Around him, a formation circle pulsed faintly with silver and black runes—a forbidden array from his past life.
He bled into it willingly. His palm cut, offering blood essence as fuel.
> "In my past life, I broke the skies with one fist… This time, I shall rise again. Not through fortune, but fury."
His breathing slowed. Qi surged from the earth, drawn by the demonic formation. He had studied for weeks, weaving ancient knowledge with modern principles. It was time to break into Foundation Establishment—a realm few reached at his age.
The Qi tore through his meridians, wild and brutal.
Crack!
He spat blood.
Snap!
His spine trembled.
Still, he endured.
> "Pain is the language of ascension. And I… speak it fluently."
Moments passed like lifetimes. His vision blurred. But slowly, the rampaging force within him stabilized, condensed, and swirled into his dantian.
A deep hum echoed from his core.
Foundation… was established.
A burst of silver light erupted from the formation, scattering the night clouds for a brief moment. And then… stillness.
Zenin opened his eyes, now deeper—colder. The arrogance of a mortal youth was gone. What remained was the clarity of a sovereign reborn.
---
Elsewhere, Zhen Yun held a letter—a notice that Zenin had jumped in rank again.
Lady Zhen's hands trembled.
"No… He wasn't supposed to reach this far."
Her eyes turned toward an old scroll, sealed with crimson wax.
> "Then we move to the next phase. The poison has been prepared."
---
Back in his room, Zenin stared at the night sky. His cultivation had advanced, but the cost was mounting.
And he could feel it—the killing intent around him was no longer subtle.
---