The shift from the anxious stillness of the Archives to the raw, untamed wilderness of the Jade Dragon Mountains was immediate and stark. Lian Chen stood at the mouth of the Mountain Pass, a narrow, treacherous cleft guarded by two crumbling stone pillars, and inhaled the cold, crisp mountain air. It was heavy with the scent of pine, damp earth, and the raw, unrefined Spiritual Qi that permeated the high peaks. This air felt cleaner, more invigorating than the dense, cultivated Qi of the Inner Courtyard, but it also tasted of danger and neglect.
His destination was the shack belonging to the Spiritual Herb Harvesting Division, a dilapidated structure built from scavenged timber, looking utterly out of place against the majestic, soaring peaks. The shack was not just poor; it was a physical manifestation of the sect's contempt for mundane labor.
Inside, hunched over a desk littered with smudged parchment and dried roots, was the Division Manager, known only as Old Man Wu. Wu was a gaunt man in robes that were once gray but now seemed permanently stained with earth and sweat. His cultivation base was Mid-Foundation Establishment, but his aura was muted and world-weary, suggesting decades spent on this thankless mountain slope rather than in dedicated meditation.
"New blood," Wu grunted, not bothering to look up. His voice was gravelly, worn smooth by years of shouting over mountain winds. "You're the Inner Sect reject who chose hard labor over sweeping toilets. Lian Chen, was it?"
"Lian Chen, reporting for duty, Manager Wu," Lian Chen replied, bowing low, maintaining his facade of exhausted humility. He needed to avoid provoking any intense spiritual scrutiny.
Old Man Wu finally lifted his head, his small, sharp eyes raking over Lian Chen's clean Inner Sect robes. "Humph. The audacity of youth. You think the mountain is a cleaner place to cultivate? Let me disabuse you of that fancy idea, Disciple. This division is not about Qi circulation; it's about effort. It's about fighting rock lizards and dodging landslides for two coppers per root."
Wu slammed a rolled-up parchment onto the desk. "Here is your quota. Every Outer Sect novice is assigned Low-Grade Moonpetal Grass for their first run. It's tough, resilient, and grows in areas where only the truly desperate bother to trek. The current market rate for a Qi Condensation Disciple is fifty units per day. Your quota is one hundred and twenty units."
Lian Chen's eyes widened, though he quickly masked his shock. A quota of one hundred and twenty units—more than double the standard—was a direct message from the sect hierarchy. It was a punishment disguised as a task, intended to break his spirit and force his eventual resignation.
"That quota," Lian Chen began carefully, "is typically assigned to disciples nearing the Fifth Layer, due to the distance and the terrain."
Wu offered a joyless, spitting chuckle. "Indeed. But your file, signed by Chief Disciple Xiaoru herself, states you demonstrate 'explosive potential and unique motivation.' The sect wishes to test the limits of this 'potential.' Fail to meet the quota for three consecutive days, and you are immediately demoted to the Servant Dormitories. No second chances, genius. You survived the demotion, but you haven't escaped the yoke."
He tossed a rough hemp sack and a dull iron trowel onto the desk. "This is your gear. No spiritual armor, no protective talismans. If you run into anything stronger than a field mouse, it's on your cultivation. Now, get out. The best light for harvesting Moonpetal Grass is before noon. You lose time standing here."
Lian Chen secured the sack to his waist and took the trowel. His internal response was not anger, but a cold, calculating determination. The sect wanted to test his limits? Good. He would shatter their expectations. The impossible quota was merely a key to the treasure vault—one hundred and twenty units of raw spiritual energy, refined by the Obsidian Bead, would catapult him far beyond Stage 4.
He nodded once to Wu and left the shack, turning his back on the easy slopes and heading directly toward the most challenging, fog-shrouded peaks—the regions known as the Silent Ravines.
The hike was immediately grueling. The path was barely defined, winding over slick, loose shale and through dense, thorny thickets that tugged relentlessly at his robes. His current body, though fortified by the 'Vessel Reborn' protocol, was still physically weak and unused to this level of sustained exertion. The pain quickly flared in his muscles, a stark reminder that while his spiritual core was divine, his mortal shell required conditioning.
He kept his focus inward, communing with the Obsidian Bead.
"Current State: Qi Condensation, Stage 4 (Inner Heaven). Deadline for Stage 5 - Meridian Flow: 19 hours, 45 minutes. Required Resource Accumulation: 100 units of concentrated spiritual energy. Current Quota Target: Moonpetal Grass (Low-Grade Spiritual Energy)."
The Bead's clock was ticking, a silent countdown to potential doom. He needed to move with the efficiency of a machine, maximizing output while minimizing risk.
He finally reached the Silent Ravines just as the morning mist began to thin. The Ravines were aptly named: a deep, sheltered valley where the spiritual presence of the mountains felt unnaturally quiet, a perfect hunting ground for Spirit Beasts who preferred ambush to direct confrontation. The atmosphere here was thick with residual natural essence, and Lian Chen could see the distinctive, silver-green leaves of the Moonpetal Grass growing in dense patches, clinging to the cold, damp rock faces.
He immediately dropped the pretense of a normal cultivator. He didn't use the trowel; it was slow and clumsy. He knelt beside the nearest patch, his fingers finding purchase in the earth, and began channeling the Ten Thousand Stages Scripture.
He focused his will not on pulling the Qi out of the earth and into his body—the standard slow-method—but on engaging the Obsidian Bead as a dedicated Spiritual Energy Refiner.
The Bead responded instantly. From the center of his Spirit Sea, a silent, ravenous spiritual vortex erupted, invisible to the naked eye, yet devastatingly effective. When he touched the Moonpetal Grass, the plant's internal spiritual essence—the lifeblood cultivated over months—was instantly and violently ripped from its physical form.
A normal cultivator, even one at the Fifth Layer, would need several minutes of dedicated focus to gently coax the Qi from one plant. Lian Chen, fueled by the Bead's boundless purity, devoured the spiritual energy of an entire patch—ten, fifteen, twenty units of Moonpetal Grass—in less than thirty seconds.
The spiritual matter rushed into his Transcendent Meridians, which handled the raw, dense energy without tremor or resistance. The Obsidian Bead acted as the ultimate purification system, immediately dissolving the low-grade spiritual impurities and compressing the remaining pure essence into a liquid, golden-blue vapor.
Lian Chen moved like a spiritual predator. His fingers would brush a patch of Moonpetal Grass; a silent thrum would sound in his ears; the plants would instantly wither and turn a sickly, dust-gray color, their spiritual essence utterly spent, leaving behind only the worthless, fibrous husk. He repeated this, a relentless, focused machine of consumption.
Unit Count (Internal): 40. Stage Progress: 4.2.
The speed was exhilarating, but it was also dangerous. The sheer, ravenous rate at which he was processing spiritual energy was creating a massive, localized disturbance in the mountain Qi. It was a beacon of power fluctuation, broadcasting his location to everything capable of sensing spiritual movement.
He felt the disturbance before he heard it. The natural flow of Qi in the Ravine—which had been quiet and almost mournful—suddenly became chaotic, surging and retreating. Then came the sound: a low, resonant growl, heavy with predatory intent, echoing off the high stone walls.
Lian Chen froze, his hand hovering over a prime patch of Moonpetal Grass. The growl was close, maybe forty paces away, hidden by a heavy curtain of fog that still lingered on the ravine floor.
A Spirit Beast. And not a small one. The power in that growl suggested at least a Mid-Qi Condensation level, capable of tearing a new Second Layer cultivator to shreds.
He consulted the Bead.
"Immediate Threat Detected: Shadow-Fanged Wolf (Qi Condensation, Stage 5-6). Host Combat Readiness: Moderate (Suppression Active). Recommendation: Immediate Evasion. Failure to Evasion: Engage with Tactical Precision."
Evasion was not an option. The moment he moved, the wolf would be on him. The creature was hunting, and Lian Chen had just provided a loud dinner bell.
He quickly released a fraction more of his hidden power, allowing his aura to rise from the shaky Second Layer to a stabilized, convincing Late Fourth Layer. The risk of exposure was less than the risk of death. He still needed to appear weaker than the wolf, yet capable of defending himself.
The wolf emerged from the fog: a massive, obsidian-black canine with eyes that glowed a malevolent, hungry yellow. It was twice the size of a normal mountain wolf, its powerful legs coiled, ready to spring, and its elongated canines, tipped with a faint shadow-like energy, were clearly visible.
"A Shadow-Fanged Wolf," Lian Chen muttered, drawing a ragged breath. These beasts were notorious for their speed and ability to briefly phase their attacks, making them difficult to block for a cultivator focused only on physical defense.
The wolf didn't wait. It was drawn by the spiritual scent of its prey. It sprang, covering the distance in a single, terrifying bound, aiming directly for Lian Chen's throat.
Lian Chen reacted with impossible speed. His training as a Qingyun Disciple was useless; the Ten Thousand Stages dictated a new, brutal form of combat built purely on the purity of the Azure Essence.
Instead of channeling defense, he channeled raw, focused offense. He raised his left hand, aiming for the wolf's charging shoulder, and unleashed a burst of pure, compressed Azure Essence. It wasn't a technique; it was a targeted explosion of spiritual purity, bypassing all conventional forms.
The blast hit the wolf mid-air. The creature didn't suffer a physical wound, but the impact of the ultra-pure Qi struck it like a sledgehammer, disrupting the delicate flow of its internal spiritual energy. The wolf cried out—a sharp, startled yelp of pain—and was thrown violently into the rock wall twenty feet away, impacting with a bone-jarring thwump.
Lian Chen had bought himself a second.
The Shadow-Fanged Wolf was powerful and resilient. It shook its head, momentarily disoriented, but quickly rose, now wary, its yellow eyes blazing with primal fury. It realized this prey was not the weak, stagnant cultivator it had anticipated.
The wolf began to circle, utilizing its Shadow-Fangs technique. It became a blur of dark motion, and then, for a terrifying moment, the image of the wolf seemed to split. Two shadows, equally substantial, darted toward Lian Chen, one aiming high, the other low. This was the beast's specialty: confusing the enemy with dual spiritual projections.
Lian Chen closed his eyes for a split second, ignoring the visual deception. The Obsidian Bead was a perfect spiritual sensor; it sensed only the core of the beast, the single, hot spark of its life force.
He moved toward the real wolf. He executed another Cloud-Shattering Palm, but this time, he funneled all the stored power of Stage 4 into a pinpoint attack. It was the technique that had crippled Mingyu, now used with lethal intent.
The palm slammed into the true wolf's flank. This time, the impact was devastating. The Shadow-Fanged Wolf let out a piercing, agonized shriek, its bones visibly cracking under the immense, compressed pressure of the Azure Essence. It staggered, its legs failing, and attempted to retreat, realizing its mistake.
But Lian Chen was relentless. The Ten Thousand Stages Scripture did not permit weakness or incomplete victory. He rushed the wounded beast, moving with a controlled ferocity born of desperation, and delivered a swift, powerful kick to its jaw, snapping its head back against the stone wall. The wolf went limp, its demonic yellow eyes dulling.
Lian Chen stood over the massive, slain beast, his chest heaving, his own suppression aura flickering wildly from the exertion. He felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but beneath it, a surge of raw, untamed power. He had defeated a Mid-Qi Condensation Spirit Beast, an achievement that would have taken a standard Fifth Layer disciple an intense, protracted battle. He had done it in two moves.
He glanced at the Obsidian Bead's countdown. The fight had cost him precious minutes, but the victory offered an unexpected bounty.
His focus immediately shifted to the beast's Spirit Core, the crystalline repository of its spiritual cultivation, located near its heart. This Core was worth more to him than an entire day's quota of Moonpetal Grass.
He quickly retrieved the trowel, no longer a harvesting tool, but a makeshift knife. He sliced into the thick, black hide, his movements efficient and brutal, driven by necessity. He dug deep, ignoring the gruesome scene, until his hand closed around the small, faintly glowing amethyst sphere—the Spirit Core of the Shadow-Fanged Wolf.
The moment his fingers touched it, the Obsidian Bead pulsed with intense, focused hunger. It did not want the Core; it demanded its essence.
Lian Chen did not hesitate. He crushed the Spirit Core in his hand, and the refined spiritual energy of the beast's decades of cultivation was instantly ripped out, absorbed into his body. The purity of the energy was far greater than the herbs, and the surge was monumental.
The spiritual pressure built within him, forcing him to immediately drop into a rapid, cross-legged meditation amidst the blood and pine needles. The Transcendent Meridians flared silver-blue, working furiously to channel the unexpected influx of high-grade spiritual energy.
Unit Count (Internal): +150 Concentrated Spiritual Energy. Stage Progress: 4.8.
He was nearly there. He was within reach of Stage 5 - Meridian Flow. But the internal turmoil caused by absorbing such potent, raw power was immense. The Obsidian Bead was a merciless master, demanding immediate stabilization.
Lian Chen spent the next hour—not resting, but frantically cultivating—using the residual spiritual density of the area and the Moonpetal Grass to smooth out the transition. He worked with furious speed, driven by the fear of the countdown. He harvested the remaining Moonpetal Grass in the patch, not for the quota, but for the necessary volume to process the Wolf Core's energy.
He finally stood up, his body trembling, but his internal pressure had settled. His aura, once again suppressed to the shaky Fourth Layer level, felt cohesive and absolute.
He stuffed the hundreds of withered husks of Moonpetal Grass into his hemp sack, already far surpassing the impossible quota. The sack was heavy, but the weight of the raw material was secondary to the concentrated power now residing in his Dantian.
Lian Chen looked down at the carcass of the Shadow-Fanged Wolf. He was a cultivator now operating at the boundary of a death sentence and a divine miracle. He had faced the mountain's danger and conquered it, but the price was a descent into a brutal, isolated existence. He could no longer rely on sect rules or fellow disciples. He was a lone predator feeding a celestial engine.
He turned and began the arduous journey back down the mountain, carrying his massive sack. The world of cultivation, once a dream of peaceful meditation and polite competition, had revealed its true face: a bloody, desperate scramble for resources where the weak were devoured by the strong. And Lian Chen, through the forced evolution of the Obsidian Bead, was now irrevocably one of the strongest.
The return trip was silent. The other Spirit Beasts, sensing the death of the Shadow-Fanged Wolf and the cold, terrifying purity of the Qi that had accomplished it, kept their distance. Lian Chen was no longer prey; he was a silent, dangerous warning painted across the spiritual landscape of the mountain.
When he reached the Harvesting Shack just before sunset, Old Man Wu was cleaning his pipe, looking bored and resigned. He saw the bulging, heavy sack Lian Chen dropped onto the floor, scattering dust and withered husks.
"You're back early, and alive," Wu commented, his eyes narrowing, instantly spotting the dust-gray color of the spent herbs. "Let's see the count."
Lian Chen didn't speak. He simply opened the mouth of the sack and let Wu count the withered Moonpetal Grass. Wu's calm detachment began to fray after he counted past the hundred mark. His eyes, initially dismissive, became sharp and suspicious as he counted one hundred and fifty-seven units—an output far exceeding even the most motivated Fifth Layer disciple.
"One hundred and fifty-seven," Wu finally grunted, his voice flat. He pointed a trembling finger at the spent, gray husks. "These are all drained. Did you simply pull them out and leave them to die? We require the full spiritual integrity of the plant for the alchemists."
Lian Chen maintained his cover. "Manager Wu, the technique I used to achieve my breakthrough is volatile. I circulated my Qi around the plants to protect them from the elements during harvesting. The residual spiritual energy from my own body was too strong for the low-grade herbs; it over-purified their essence, causing them to wither after harvest. I apologize for the unusable quality, but I achieved the quota through sheer volume."
Wu stared at him, calculating. The story was ridiculous, yet the results—the physical evidence of the massive effort and the sheer number of herbs—were undeniable. No low-level disciple could gather this many. He looked at Lian Chen's robes, still slightly stained with wolf blood, and finally looked at the quiet terror in the spiritual environment around the young man.
"Keep the husks, I'll deal with the paperwork," Wu decided, choosing to ignore the obvious impossibility and the ruined goods. "The quota is met. You are safe from demotion for today. Your payment is a single mid-grade Spirit Stone and a standard healing salve."
Lian Chen nodded, taking the Spirit Stone. It was more valuable than the low-grade herbs he had consumed, and more importantly, it was pure, dense energy—perfect for the next phase of the Ten Thousand Stages cultivation.
As he walked away from the shack, heading back toward the Inner Courtyard for a night of crucial, forced meditation, the Obsidian Bead delivered its final, chilling message for the day.
"Stage 5 - Meridian Flow requires the complete, forced synchronization of the Transcendent Meridians with the surrounding macro-spiritual world. Prepare for the process. No rest is permissible. Begin refinement immediately."
Lian Chen clutched the Spirit Stone, its cold energy a promise and a threat. He knew the fight had only just begun. The inner world, governed by the relentless Ten Thousand Stages, was more dangerous than any beast the Jade Dragon Mountains could produce. His life was no longer his own; it belonged to the terrifying, glorious path of the Azure Heaven's Ascendant.