After two months of secluded cultivation, Lin Chen finally broke through, stepping into the first stage of the Essence Forging Realm.
With the aid of the pills, his progress had been smooth, but just as he had expected, his body gradually developed resistance to their effects.
This was nothing unusual. If cultivation could be advanced endlessly through the swallow of pills, then every mediocre cultivator in the world would already be a peerless powerhouse.
Medicinal pills could only serve as stepping stones. Once the body adapted to their medicinal essence, their effects diminished sharply. For Lin Chen now, Qi Gathering Pills had become entirely useless, and even Essence Gathering Pills brought only the faintest increase.
It was no wonder Yu Feng had resorted to such a vile demonic art. Unlike ordinary methods, that technique carried no such dead end. As long as one was willing to harvest the life force of others, cultivation could continue to rise without a pause.
Still, breaking into Essence Forging carried its own natural transformation. In this realm, a cultivator's Qi condensed into a far denser state, allowing it to manifest beyond the confines of the body.
Cultivators of the Root Vein Realm could circulate Qi within their meridians, strengthening flesh and bones, and even coating their bodies for brief defenses or bursts of power. But they could not extend it outwards.
An Essence Forging cultivator, however, could shape their Qi into tangible forms—condensing spears, blades, or barriers.
Just like Yu Feng's frost arts and conjured ice spears, these techniques were the hallmark of one who had stepped beyond the foundation stage of cultivation. Now, Lin Chen could do the same. Whether forming a blade of lightning or a barrier of pure energy, the possibilities had widened.
***
That afternoon,
Lin Chen arrived at one of the most deserted corners of the sect — a patch of woods so neglected that even the weeds seemed to grow out of boredom.
The reason why he came here? Combat practice.
Now, most disciples went to sparring fields or training grounds, places built precisely for honing skills. But Lin Chen shook his head. No, those were far too public.
Why choose such a desolate place for training? The answer was embarrassingly simple. What he was about to do… if anyone else saw it, they would definitely conclude he had brain problems.
He sighed, then chuckled to himself. "Better to look like a lunatic alone than to prove it in public."
With that comforting logic, he straightened his back and got to business.
Lin Chen had devised what he proudly considered a brilliant plan. With Aiva's help, he would simulate the battles in a way no other disciple could even dream of. Aiva would project an opponent directly into his perception — vivid, detailed, and relentless.
To anyone watching from the outside, it would look like he was shadow-boxing open air. But in his mind, he would be clashing with a living enemy.
And the best part? Every time he failed to dodge or block, Aiva would send sharp pulses of pain straight into his nervous system. Not real wounds, but close enough to the real thing. Each mistake would hurt, each misstep would sting, until his body learned real combat.
"Aiva, start the combat training… but this time, I'll fight on my own."
[Understood. Creating an opponent.]
Lin Chen's vision wavered. The deserted woods melted away, replaced by a vast training ground paved with stone tiles. An illusory breeze stirred the dust, carrying the weight of battle. Before him, a tall man materialized, a spear gleaming coldly in his hands.
[Opponent: Root Vein Awakening, Stage Nine. Weapon: Spear. Combat style: aggressive mid-range.]
There was no prelude, no chance to prepare. The spear lunged like a striking viper. Lin Chen sidestepped, but the tip still grazed his arm. A sharp sting followed, courtesy of Aiva's merciless simulation.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Tch… fast."
Charging in, he tried to close the distance, his fists crackling faintly with Qi. But the spear whirled like a storm, the shaft spinning and forcing him back. His footwork faltered—once, twice—nearly sending him tumbling to the ground.
[Your stance is unstable. Adjust left foot—2 inches outward.]
Aiva's calm voice cut into his focus like a teacher scolding a particularly clumsy student.
The spear swept low. Lin Chen leapt back, then burst forward again, channeling lightning Qi into his fist. He struck with a thunderous punch, the impact rattling the spear's shaft and driving the illusory warrior half a step back.
For a moment, his chest swelled with satisfaction.
Then the battle dragged on. Minutes bled together. His breath grew ragged, sweat plastered his robe to his back. His punches slowed, his dodges lagged. The opponent's spear struck like a flood dragon, merciless and without a pause.
Finally, one brutal thrust crashed into his ribs. Pain flared white-hot, stealing his breath and buckling his knees.
The battlefield has dissolved.
[Training complete. Observations: reaction speed acceptable, endurance poor, footwork inconsistent.]
Lin Chen bent forward, hands braced on his knees, his chest heaving. His entire body trembled as if he had truly fought for his life.
"Yeah…" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I've got a long way to go before I can win without you."
***
A week slipped by in the blink of an eye.
During that time, Lin Chen had made remarkable progress in his combat simulations. He had graduated from a clumsy novice to someone who could now stand toe-to-toe with opponents in his own realm — and even fight those a stage higher — without leaning on Aiva's guidance. His footwork was sharper, his reactions steadier, and his strikes carried weight.
He had also spent countless hours practicing the other three forms of the Azure Thunder Arts, polishing them until his body hummed faintly with residual sparks.
And that brings us to the present…
Lin Chen lay sprawled on the grass in the same deserted woods, staring up at the endless blue sky. The gentle rustle of leaves and the chirping of distant birds should have been soothing, but he only sighed.
After nearly a week of nonstop training, he had hit his limit. He wasn't a battle junkie, and endlessly sparring with fake opponents had grown tiresome.
"As for cultivation…" he muttered, rolling lazily onto his side. He already knew the truth. Without some great opportunity or external factor, advancing even one minor stage would take him a year of dull, steady effort. For now, his progress was hopelessly stalled.
So, he did what any tired modern soul would do: lie on the grass and stare at clouds.
One cloud floated past, plump and rounded, shaped almost like a scoop of ice cream. Lin Chen's mouth watered instinctively.
"Ice cream… I miss that delicious, soft, cold thing," he thought, licking his lips.
But the joy faded quickly. Watching the sky could only hold his attention for so long. He groaned, rolling onto his back again.
"No mobile, no games, no way to pass the time… this world really has no mercy."
He slapped his stomach, sat up, and dusted the grass from his robes.
"Guess I should pick up some missions," he sighed. At least that way he could travel a little, see something new, and escape the boredom gnawing at him.
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