Morning mist had yet to fade.
Beads of dew still clung to the glazed tiles atop the Seven Treasure Mountain.
When Chen Xin pushed open the door—
Li Zhexian was seated cross-legged before the window.
A gleaming blue-green blade lay across his knees. The sword's body caught the dawn light—like blood, yet also like fire.
"Still getting used to the accommodations?"
"Mm."
Li Zhexian nodded with a faint smile.
After wandering the continent for five long years, sleeping under open skies and eating cold meals had become routine. The notion of "getting used to" something no longer applied to him.
His white sleeve brushed past an untouched cup of wine on the table—
he'd thought to share a drink with Chen Xin.
But the elder merely turned and stepped over the threshold.
"Come with me."
"You haven't returned for years."
"Allow me to show you around the old grounds of the sect."
Li Zhexian set the wine aside. His white robe fluttered lightly as he followed behind.
The Seven Treasure Mountains stretched for miles—
peaks rising and folding like waves of jade-green silk.
Palaces and pavilions crowned with glazed tiles shimmered among the greenery, radiating the grandeur befitting the world's foremost auxiliary sect.
Chen Xin led Li Zhexian through familiar yet foreign paths.
Memories from childhood had long since grown hazy;
even the feelings of that time were beyond recall.
Only when they passed a certain hillside did a vivid image flash through Li Zhexian's mind—
He saw his younger self, clumsy and earnest, following Chen Xin in sword practice.
At times, when he couldn't return in time for lunch,
he'd climb nearby trees to pick Seven Treasure Pears instead.
Whoosh—!
A flash of sword qi burst from Li Zhexian's fingertips.
The pears on the tree dropped in an instant,
and his figure appeared beneath the boughs, catching them neatly in his sleeve.
"Senior Chen Xin."
He handed one over.
For a moment, Chen Xin froze—then took a pear and bit into it.
"Mn. Tastes the same as it did back then."
A faint smile tugged at the face that was so rarely warm.
They continued past the slope.
The mountain wind brushed at their robes.
Every disciple they passed stopped to bow deeply, reverent and respectful.
The farther they went, the more disciples they encountered—
and Li Zhexian noticed many faces were lined with fatigue, some even needing support from companions.
"Senior Chen Xin," he asked softly, "where are we headed?"
Chen Xin glanced sideways at him.
"Seems your travels across the continent have made you forget the treasures of your own sect."
At those words, Li Zhexian's eyes flickered slightly.
A short while later—
A crowd of disciples appeared ahead, encircling something with tense focus.
As Chen Xin and Li Zhexian approached,
the disciples quickly parted, opening a path like a tide retreating from shore.
When Li Zhexian lifted his gaze—
even with all he'd seen in his years of wandering,
he couldn't help but reveal a glimmer of astonishment.
"This is…"
"The Seven Treasure Starveil," Chen Xin said, hands clasped behind his back.
What stood before them could hardly be called a structure—
it was a domain.
A flowing veil of multicolored light hung suspended in midair, drifting like mist yet firmly bound to half the mountainside.
Shimmering with all hues, it gleamed like a fallen fragment of the heavens—a piece of the night sky captured upon the earth.
"To rank among the Seven Great Sects, each must have its own mysteries," Chen Xin continued evenly.
"The Wind Sword Sect has its Wind Eye. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Clan, their Valley of Thunder."
"And for us—the Seven Treasure Starveil is our disciples' crucible."
He paused for a few breaths, then added,
"The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda Martial Soul requires cultivation of the Seven Heart Separation Control to wield its Spirit Abilities."
"The Three Aperature Governing Heart, the Four Aperature Constant Heart, the Five Aperture Dispersed Heart, the Six Aperture Wishful Heart,
and the ultimate realm—the Seven Aperture Exquisite Heart."
"This Seven Treasure Starveil is the perfect place to temper one's heart."
Li Zhexian nodded in understanding.
He had left the sect too young to ever enter this place—
he'd only heard its name, never seen it.
Now he understood.
Their "casual stroll" had never been casual at all.
"Even if one's Martial Soul isn't the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda," Chen Xin went on, his voice sharpening,
"the Starveil's mystical nature can still refine one's spiritual power."
"Spiritual power…"
Li Zhexian's eyes narrowed, pupils flashing with sudden insight.
"Zhexian," Chen Xin's tone deepened,
"your Myriad Forms Sword Dao—six sword intents already mastered. A prodigy without peer."
"But aside from needing to strengthen your Spirit Power further… there remains one weakness."
Li Zhexian's expression cooled slightly.
"Spiritual power."
Indeed—Chen Xin had seen through him.
In body and in technique, he had far surpassed his peers.
Especially in swordsmanship—even among the old generation of Titled Douluo, few could truly overwhelm him.
But in spiritual power—
he had never deliberately trained it.
During the Spirit Master Tournament, when he crushed Tang San's Purple Demon Eye and Hu Liena's Charm Spirit Ability,
it had been the fourth realm of the Sword Dao that supported him.
He'd won—
but he knew clearly:
They simply weren't strong enough.
If he were to face a Spirit Douluo—or worse, a Titled Douluo—versed in spiritual techniques,
the battle would be far more dangerous.
"Zhexian, you needn't be overly concerned," Chen Xin said with a faint smile, seeing the youth's solemn expression.
"Spirit Masters proficient in spiritual power are exceedingly rare."
"To call it a weakness is… splitting hairs."
"But an extra skill is never wasted."
"Your sword heart is steady, your will tempered in the Slaughter City. Few can match such resolve."
"For you, cultivating spiritual power will yield twice the result with half the effort."
Chen Xin's gaze burned, fixed upon the white-robed youth beside him.
"My hope—"
"Is that within this place, you can temper a new sword intent."
"One that completes your Myriad Forms Sword Dao."
Li Zhexian's eyes returned to the veil of shifting light before them, that starry mist like a fragment of the heavens.
"To forge a new sword intent…"
"One born of spiritual power, is it…"
He said no more.
With a single step forward,
his figure vanished into the flowing rainbow mist.
As the white-robed youth disappeared,
a low murmur rippled among the disciples gathered nearby.
"Senior Zhexian entered the Starveil! How many Treasures will he seize?"
"Tch, come on! Senior's the unrivaled prodigy of our generation. Even for his first entry, three Treasures at least!"
"Not so fast! Even Senior Ning Rongrong trained her Seven Aperture Exquisite Heart through more than ten entries before claiming three Treasures!"
The buzz of whispers filled the air.
Just then—
Ning Fengzhi and Gu Rong arrived together.
At once, silence fell.
"Zhexian has entered?" Ning Fengzhi asked softly.
Chen Xin nodded.
Gu Rong's wrinkled face folded into a grin.
"That brat—how many Treasures do you think he'll claim this time?"
Ning Fengzhi opened his mouth, then swallowed the words.
He'd learned his lesson—it was better not to guess, lest he be proven wrong again.
Both he and Gu Rong turned their eyes to Chen Xin.
Chen Xin stood in silence for a long moment,
his gaze deep and distant upon the shifting, starry veil.
"How many Treasures he claims… that isn't what concerns me."
"With his foundation and talent, reaching the Seven Treasures is only a matter of time."
"The true trial…"
His hand tightened subtly within his sleeve, his voice tinged with gravity.
"Lies in that spiritual sword intent."
"Spiritual power is ethereal, formless, without substance…"
"To condense it into sword intent—"
"I have never once heard of such a thing."
"Bringing him here to the Starveil…"
"…is nothing more than an attempt."
That heaviness came from personal experience—
He had once tried the same.
To merge his Seven Kill Sword Intent with spiritual power—
But in the end,
he had failed.