The dormitory was quiet, save for the faint creak of wooden beams and the distant murmur of other disciples outside. The faint glow of the evening lantern cast long shadows across the cramped room, illuminating the four figures seated on the floor. Lu Mao sat cross-legged at the center, the cultivation scroll resting on his knees, its pages fluttering slightly despite the absence of wind.
Chen Yuan and Bao Fu flanked him, their faces tense with curiosity, while Yan Mei sat slightly apart, her usual calm expression unshaken but her sharp eyes never leaving Lu Mao.
Lu Mao exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on the words of the scroll before he spoke.
"This," he said, tapping the parchment with his knuckle, "is the foundation technique the sect gave us. But it's… flawed."
Bao Fu blinked. "Flawed? Don't joke. This is the sect's cultivation manual! If it's flawed, then what are we supposed to rely on? I already burned half my brain trying to understand the first diagram."
Chen Yuan chuckled under his breath. "That's because you don't have a brain to burn."
"Oi! Who are you calling brainless?" Bao Fu scowled, puffing out his cheeks.
Yan Mei, in her calm, crisp voice, interjected. "What do you mean by flawed?"
Lu Mao's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone measured. "Not flawed, maybe… incomplete. The breathing patterns are stiff, like someone deliberately clipped the wings of a hawk so it could never soar too high. But while I was reading it earlier, something… shifted. I saw how the patterns could interlock, how the flow of Qi could be redirected, strengthened. If we follow that path instead…"
He hesitated, then smirked. "Well, then even you three might start looking like geniuses."
Bao Fu gawked. "Wait—you're saying you can… fix a cultivation manual?"
Chen Yuan rubbed his forehead. "That's insane. People spend lifetimes just trying to understand one."
Yan Mei studied him carefully, her voice soft but piercing. "You're serious. Show us."
Lu Mao gave a small nod, then inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a smooth, rhythmic motion. The air around him seemed to thrum faintly, as though the room itself recognized the flow of Qi. His shoulders relaxed, his muscles loosened, and the faintest golden shimmer danced at the edge of his skin.
"Watch," he said, his voice calm. "Breathe with me. Don't force it—just follow the rhythm."
The three exchanged glances, then mirrored him. The room grew silent, broken only by the sound of synchronized breathing.
At first, it was awkward, Bao Fu's stomach puffed out too far, Chen Yuan kept losing the rhythm, and Yan Mei's precision was almost mechanical. But slowly, under Lu Mao's steady guidance, the four of them began to sync.
Then it happened.
The air grew heavier, as though Qi itself was being tugged toward them. Golden threads shimmered faintly in the dim light, weaving around their bodies. Bao Fu's eyes widened as he felt warmth rush into his limbs, tingling all the way to his fingertips. Chen Yuan clenched his fists, his body trembling as though something inside him had finally awakened. Yan Mei's usually serene expression faltered for the first time, her lips parted in astonishment as a pulse of Qi surged through her veins.
"This… this is impossible…" she whispered.
Lu Mao, sweat dripping from his brow, kept his breathing steady. His golden-black vein thrummed violently in his inner world, feeding him the refined patterns, guiding his every exhale, every subtle shift of muscle. He was teaching them instinctively, his own body the model, his words shaping the rhythm they followed.
Minutes turned to hours.
Then came the breaking point.
Bao Fu let out a strangled gasp as his body convulsed. A wave of Qi burst from him, rattling the wooden beams of the dorm. Chen Yuan groaned, his body trembling as if hammered from the inside, until suddenly his breathing smoothed, and a fierce clarity filled his eyes. Yan Mei's lashes fluttered, her aura sharpening like a blade unsheathed.
One by one, they crossed the threshold.
From the Mortal Realm… into the Spirit Ascension Realm.
Martial Disciples.
Chen Yuan's voice trembled. "I… I can feel it… my Qi, it's denser, stronger… this… this is the Spirit Ascension Realm?"
Bao Fu flopped backward, laughing breathlessly. "Hah! Me! Bao Fu! A Martial Disciple in days! Even prodigies take weeks!"
Yan Mei's lips pressed together, her eyes trembling with a mix of awe and unease. "…How?"
Lu Mao let out a slow exhale, hiding the storm raging in his own body. The vaults in his inner world had thrummed madly during the session, knowledge burning into him, refining itself further. His own breakthrough had been violent, golden veins flaring across his body until he thought they'd tear him apart. And yet, now that it was done, he felt lighter, sharper, his very senses clearer than ever before.
He opened his eyes, meeting their stunned gazes, and smirked faintly. "I told you… geniuses."
Chen Yuan punched his shoulder. "Don't act like this is normal! What did you even do to us?"
Lu Mao shrugged. "I showed you the right path. That's all."
Bao Fu was still wheezing from laughter. "The right path? Brother Mao, if you can 'fix' manuals like this, I swear, I'll carry your shoes when you walk!"
Yan Mei said nothing, but her eyes lingered on Lu Mao longer than before. She, of all of them, realized this wasn't just luck. No one could unravel and reconstruct a cultivation manual in a single night. No one… except him.
Outside, the Outer Sect city bustled with life. Whispers of the competition still spread like wildfire. Disciples laughed, gossiped, and schemed. Rival teams sharpened their blades, their pride stung by the unexpected victory of Lu Mao's group. Among them, one group seethed more than most, the gang led by Zhang Wei, the senior who had humiliated Chen Yuan days before.
"They think they're untouchable now," one of his lackeys sneered. "But they're just rookies. Next time, we'll crush them."
Zhang Wei's eyes narrowed, cold and sharp. "Let them enjoy their little victory. Once they leave the sect walls, I'll make sure their names are remembered only as failures."
Back in the dorm, the four had no idea of the brewing storm outside. They were too busy staring at one another, still stunned by their impossible breakthroughs.
Chen Yuan finally broke the silence, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Mao… I don't know what you're hiding. But if you lead, I'll follow. That much, I swear."
Bao Fu grinned, smacking his chest. "Same here! Wherever you go, I'll go. Just don't make me practice until my lungs explode again."
Yan Mei's gaze softened slightly, her voice low but firm. "I will not ask questions you will not answer. But do not betray the trust you've gained tonight."
Lu Mao chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "Betray you? Please. You three are stuck with me now."
They laughed, the tension melting into camaraderie. For a brief moment, the world outside their small dorm seemed far away.
But far above, watching from the shadows of a rooftop, Li Xian's eyes gleamed with quiet astonishment. Her keen senses had felt the sudden surges of Qi from their dorm, stronger, faster, and purer than any normal cultivation could allow. She alone realized what had just happened.
"They… all advanced? In just days?" she murmured. Her gaze lingered on Lu Mao, her lips curling into the faintest smile. "What are you, boy? A monster… or a miracle?"
She closed her eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh. She would not expose them, not yet. The sect didn't need to know. Let the world underestimate them a little longer.
Because when the time came… their rise would shake the very foundations of the clan.
And perhaps beyond.