The Treasury Hall of Heavenly Dragon Sect was a cavernous space, its shelves lined with jade slips, jade bottles, and locked chests etched with glowing wards. The scent of medicinal herbs mingled faintly with the cold stone air. Li Wei stepped inside with measured calm, but his heart beat faster than he would admit. His jade token rested heavy in his palm, the glow of 5,350 contribution points etched clearly on its surface.
He knew exactly what he needed.
At the counters, stewards in plain robes cataloged requests and issued goods. Li Wei waited patiently until it was his turn, then placed his token onto the crystal plate.
"Items requested?" the steward asked, her tone neutral.
"Foundation Establishment Pill," Li Wei said evenly. "Protective medicine, one thousand points' worth. Rental of a Spirit Convergence Chamber—seven days."
The steward's fingers moved in practiced rhythm, pressing glyphs into the crystal. Numbers shifted across its surface, ticking down his balance. When the light settled, his token glowed faintly again.
Remaining: 510 points.
Enough for contingencies, but little else. The rest had been spent.
A jade bottle the length of his hand was placed before him, sealed with a golden talisman that shimmered faintly with protective qi. Beside it, a pouch of vials containing protective essence, designed to shield meridians and dantian from damage. Finally, a carved wooden token stamped with the sigil of the Spirit Convergence Chambers.
"All accounted for," the steward said briskly, sliding the goods toward him. "Return the chamber token when your time is done."
Li Wei accepted the items without flourish. For most outer sect disciples, such purchases marked years of scrimping, missions, and patience. For him, it had been months.
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The Spirit Convergence Chambers lay carved into the mountainside, a row of stone doors set deep beneath protective arrays. Each bore an etched number and glowed faintly with suppressive wards. The air around them hummed with restrained energy, as if the very stone drank in loose strands of qi.
Li Wei presented his rental token to the warding formation. Glyphs shimmered, recognized the seal, and the stone door slid open. Inside was a bare chamber: smooth stone floor, a meditation mat, and a faint light cast from a hovering crystal. The air carried a subtle density, as though each breath drew more qi into the lungs than the world outside could ever offer.
He stepped inside and let the door seal shut. Silence fell.
Carefully, Li Wei placed his sword at his side, the Foundation Pill before him, and the protective vial in his palm. He sat cross-legged on the mat, palms resting on his knees. For a long moment he simply breathed, letting the rhythm of Azure Wind Scripture settle his racing thoughts.
He thought of his vow, of the truth hidden in his parents' deaths, of the slavers carving their nets wider every day. Of the Tournament looming, where only the strongest would step forward into the inner sect.
Failure was not an option.
He drank the protective medicine first. A cool stream slid through his meridians, coating them with a thin, resilient sheen. His dantian pulsed faintly, shielded by a subtle glow. Only then did he break the talisman seal and tip the Foundation Pill into his hand. It gleamed faintly, a pearl-like sheen across its surface. Without hesitation, he swallowed it.
The effect was immediate. Heat surged down his throat, spreading like molten metal through his meridians. His dantian roared awake, qi flooding in torrents, heavier and more concentrated than ever before. But this time, the shield held. His channels did not rupture. The protective essence bore the weight, buying him clarity.
The torrent pressed at the walls of his dantian, demanding form. Li Wei's breath steadied, his mind narrowing to a blade's edge. With Azure Wind Scripture, he guided the mass inward, compressing, condensing.
Qi churned like storm clouds collapsing under their own weight. Each cycle pressed harder, squeezing vapor into liquid. Drop by drop, the transformation began—threads of mist becoming gleaming essence, clear and dense. The process was slow, grueling, but steady.
Li Wei's body trembled, not from panic, but from the sheer magnitude of the shift. He clenched his fists, sweat sliding down his temples. Where others might have faltered, his will did not waver. He embraced the strain, welcomed it, and pressed deeper.
At last, the first drop of liquid qi coalesced within his dantian. Then another. Soon a pool formed, glowing faintly, the foundation of cultivation. The pressure steadied, no longer chaos, but order.
Then came the second change.
His mind stretched outward. A faint awareness flickered at the edge of perception, threads extending into the world beyond his body. He felt the walls of the chamber as though his skin brushed them. He sensed the faint pulse of formations in the stone, the sealed door like a weight against his thoughts. It was not sight, nor touch, nor sound—something deeper, the first breath of divine sense.
Li Wei inhaled sharply. The world was larger now. He was larger.
Hours passed as he refined the pool, smoothing turbulence, weaving stability into every drop. By the time he opened his eyes, the chamber seemed brighter, sharper. His breath flowed evenly, each cycle of qi smooth and powerful.
Beyond the sealed door, faint whispers stirred. The suppressive wards kept most of the qi within, but a ripple had escaped. A handful of outer sect disciples training nearby paused mid-breath, sensing the tremor.
"Someone's breaking through," one murmured.
"Which chamber?" another asked, eyes wide.
They would never know for sure, but rumors had a way of finding names.
Inside, Li Wei gathered the empty vials and stored them carefully. His limbs ached, but with a steadiness unlike before. He reached for his sword and lifted it. The blade thrummed with resonance, qi flowing into it in a dense stream, brighter and sharper than ever before.
A faint smile touched his lips. Not triumph—resolve. This was only a step, but it was one that opened doors once closed.
He sat again, cross-legged, guiding his breath. Though he had broken through, the new realm was tender, untempered. He would spend the remaining days in the chamber binding his liquid qi, deepening his divine sense, hardening every thread of his new foundation.
Only then would he leave. Only then would he face the Stele again, the Tournament again, and the enemies waiting in shadow.