After Wang Yuyao left, Wang Jianqiang took a deep breath and let his consciousness sink into his mind.
A month ago, optimizing and upgrading the pill formulas and blueprints had cost him 150 cultivation points. Over the past month, through relentless pill refinement, he had replenished all those points. Now his total stood at five hundred and eighty.
With a thought, the light screen flickered, opening the page of cultivation methods and spells. Behind the Cultivation Techniques section, there were still only two lines:
Yan Ling Art (Great Perfection: Reached the highest realm, 500 cultivation points required to optimize and upgrade this technique)
Blazing Sun Essence-Locking Canon (Supreme Sublimation)
Upgrading the Yan Ling Art required only five hundred points—something he could do at any moment to gain a higher-level cultivation method. But cultivation methods influenced one's future foundation; they did little for immediate combat power. And at this moment, boosting his battle strength was paramount.
His gaze moved downward. Beneath the techniques, the previously empty Spells section now had a line of text:
Minor Five Elements Sword Formation (Not Yet Initiated)
Focusing on it, Jianqiang commanded: "Cultivate the Minor Five Elements Sword Formation to the highest realm."
Ding. Minor Five Elements Sword Formation has advanced to Great Perfection.
The system's notification rang out, and in the next moment, a torrent of cultivation knowledge fused into his mind. When he looked back at the screen, the spell line had changed to:
Minor Five Elements Sword Formation (Great Perfection)
"With just a flick of thought, mastery achieved… ah, the bliss of being a walking cheat." Jianqiang grinned in satisfaction—until his eyes fell on the number of cultivation points left.
"Eighty?" The number made his heart skip.
"Damn! What kind of dogshit spell is this? To reach Great Perfection, it actually ate up five hundred points!" He clicked his tongue in disbelief. Without cultivation points, with his talent, it would take him five centuries of sleepless seclusion to reach this level. Then again—spells that consumed so much were naturally powerful. Perhaps it wasn't such a loss after all.
He had the impulse to test it out, but there were too many eyes within the sect. Any careless display would attract unwanted notice. In this world, only those one major realm higher could see through another's cultivation. Though he had long since reached the tenth level of Qi Refinement, as long as he didn't actively release his aura, only Foundation Establishment cultivators could see through his true strength. To the outer sect, he was still a "good-for-nothing."
Perhaps his talent in alchemy was spreading, but in this world, strength ruled above all. Others would still see him as worthless.
With the Cold Pond Secret Realm about to open, playing the pig to eat the tiger was the true way forward. If everyone overlooked him, he could fish in troubled waters—or at the very least, keep himself safe. With this thought, Jianqiang finally restrained his urge to test the spell. There would be plenty of chances later; no need to expose himself too soon.
Three days later, at dawn, the rising sun gilded the horizon. When Jianqiang and Yuyao arrived at the gathering place, dozens of figures had already assembled. His eyes swept the crowd, then froze.
Niu Shouren, Chen Jiaojiao?!How had they managed to obtain slots for the secret realm?
"Hah! One who only made the top ten thanks to a magic tool, and a piece of trash stuck at the third level of Qi Refinement—are you two planning to commit suicide in the secret realm?"
The mocking voice rang out without the slightest attempt to hide it, instantly drawing all eyes to Jianqiang and Yuyao. Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"It really is Trash Wang. Wang Yuyao actually gave her follower slot to him!""This so-called trash is only at Qi Refinement three—what use is there for him in the secret realm? Slow death, perhaps?""Hah! But Yuyao will protect him, won't she? Guess she grew up without a father and feels safe dragging along this old man."
Yuyao's face flushed between pale and green, her anger plain. Jianqiang, however, ignored them. His gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto a figure—Ye Lingyun.
The first voice of mockery had been his. At this moment, Lingyun stood with arms crossed, sneering at the spectacle.
"No matter how I got into the top ten, it's still better than certain people who were eliminated outright." Jianqiang's reply struck precisely at Lingyun's sore spot.
The smile on Lingyun's face vanished instantly. His expression turned as dark as storm clouds. "Keep flapping that mouth, old man. Just pray we don't cross paths in the secret realm… or else—" A cold gleam flashed in his eyes, menace thick in his tone.
Jianqiang curled his lip and dismissed the threat. His eyes shifted briefly to Su Yutong, who stood at Lingyun's side. She sensed his gaze, gave a disdainful snort, and turned her simmering hatred toward Yuyao.
"Senior Brother, they…" Yuyao frowned, unwilling to let it slide.
"Don't mind them." Jianqiang shook his head and pulled her toward a quiet corner.
Not long after, two streaks of light shot in from the depths of Hehuan Sect. This Cold Pond expedition was vital to the sect, so they had sent not one but two inner-sect elders—one man and one woman—to lead the team.
The man, hair streaked with gray, was none other than Yun Zhongque, the elder who had presided over the outer sect competition. The woman wore a crimson dress, her face hidden beneath a veil as thin as cicada wings. Though her features could not be seen, her slender figure, flawless neck, and aura of nobility left no doubt she was breathtakingly beautiful.
When Jianqiang recognized them, his face stiffened. Both were acquaintances. Especially the veiled woman—though her face was hidden, her familiar form, the chill tinged with grace in her bearing… it was unmistakable.
Yan Qingxuan.
"How can it be them? My luck really is cursed." Jianqiang's heart sank. With Yun Zhongque, there was only a faint dislike between them—no real enmity. But Yan Qingxuan… she was different. Not only had he offended her, there was also that unspeakable incident neither of them could forget.
At the same moment, the crimson-clad Yan Qingxuan landed, her own heart surging with turmoil.
Her fingertips clenched tight around the silk sash at her waist, the smooth fabric crumpling under the force. She had never imagined the sect would assign her to lead this mission—only for her to run headlong into Wang Jianqiang.
Beneath the veil, her cheeks burned. Unbidden, memories flooded back: the haze of heat after swallowing that mistaken pill, the growing loss of control, the blurred consciousness… and then waking to a rumpled bed, the air thick with a stranger's lingering scent, and him standing there with disheveled clothes. Every detail screamed of humiliation.
She was an inner-sect elder of Hehuan Sect, proud and aloof, always presenting herself as dignified and cold. Yet because of one slip, she had… with an outer sect disciple. The thought alone made her chest burn with shame and fury, as though a fireball had lodged in her heart.
She had once thought to settle accounts with him. But if this matter spread, it would not only shatter her reputation—it would disgrace the entire sect. She had no choice but to bury it deep, praying she would never have to see him again.
And now, there he was, standing not far away. Even with his head bowed, that familiar back made her breath falter for an instant.
Her lashes trembled violently beneath the veil. Seeing him shuffle to the back of the crowd like a frightened rat, the corner of her lips pressed into a cold, hard line. So he feels guilty? At least he still knows shame!
She almost stepped forward to confront him, but froze midway.
Taking a deep breath, Yan Qingxuan forced her emotions back down. Her gaze lingered on him for only three heartbeats before she tore it away—yet those three heartbeats felt like three years, each second ripping at her pride. She remembered too vividly her own ragged breaths, her disordered awakening, the insult carved into her bones. And yet, all she could do now was pretend he was a stranger.
Sensing her eyes move away, Jianqiang let out a long breath, sweat soaking his back.
"Senior Brother, why are you sweating so much?" Yuyao asked, puzzled, reaching for a handkerchief.
"Ah?" Jianqiang flinched, then quickly wiped at his face, forcing a casual smile. "Ah… today's weather is so hot."
Yuyao blinked in confusion. It was the middle of winter. Even in summer, cultivators wouldn't sweat from heat. She wanted to press further, but just then, Yun Zhongque's voice rang out, saving Jianqiang from her questions.
"Everyone is present. Prepare to depart!"
As his voice echoed, Yan Qingxuan too exhaled softly in relief. Yet as her gaze swept once more over that low-key figure in the crowd, the ripples within her heart had yet to subside.