Lin Chen opened his eyes, gasping for breath. Cold sweat soaked his back, and his hands trembled slightly.
"What… was that?" he asked hoarsely.
"The seal." Jing Lao's voice was somewhat grave. "It is more powerful than I anticipated. It not only seals your spirit root but actively devours the spiritual energy you cultivate. For every bit of energy you produce, the seal consumes it."
Lin Chen's heart sank.
"Then what's the point of cultivating?"
"There is a point," Jing Lao said. "Did you not notice? Though the energy was consumed, your meridians have been widened. You have successfully completed one small circulation of the Chaos Art's first layer. Could you have done that before?"
Lin Chen paused, looking down at his hands.
Indeed.
Though the spiritual energy in his dantian remained pitifully weak, he could feel the change in his body. His meridians felt like cleared riverbeds—though no water flowed yet, the channels themselves were far wider than before.
"The first layer of the Chaos Art is not about accumulating spiritual energy," Jing Lao explained. "It is about reshaping your meridians. Your meridians were damaged by years of improper cultivation attempts. They must first be repaired and widened before they can bear the power of the Chaotic Spirit Root. The seal may devour your energy, but it cannot undo the changes to your meridians. Once your meridians are strong enough, the seal will eventually break."
"How long?"
"At your current pace, completing one small circulation each day… about three years."
Three years.
Lin Chen was silent for a moment.
"Three years, then," he said, his voice calm and resolute.
Jing Lao laughed.
"Good. Then from today, you will continue playing the waste during the day, and cultivate the Chaos Art at night. Remember, until the seal is broken, your cultivation level will appear unchanged to outsiders. You must maintain your disguise. No one must notice anything unusual."
"I understand." Lin Chen nodded and tucked the bronze mirror into his robe.
He stood and walked to the window, pushing open the rickety frame.
Morning light poured in, falling on his pale face.
In the distance, the roofs of the Lin family's main residence glowed golden in the sun. There lived Lin Tianhe. There lived the ones who had mocked him at the martial arts field yesterday. There lived the power and glory of this clan.
And here—this broken woodshed in the corner of the back courtyard—belonged to a waste.
Lin Chen gazed at the golden roofs, his eyes as calm as stagnant water.
But beneath the surface, something was growing slowly, irresistibly.
The days that followed, Lin Chen lived a double life.
By day, he remained the same silent waste. He went to the kitchen to collect his meals on time, enduring the steward's disdainful looks. He stood at the edge of the martial arts field watching others train, enduring their mockery. He bowed his head before the clan elders, enduring their reprimands.
Everything was as before.
No one noticed any change in him.
At night, he closed his door, sat cross-legged on his wooden bed, and practiced the Chaos Art.
The process was tedious and painful. Each small circulation of spiritual energy had most of it devoured by the seal, leaving only a fraction to nourish his meridians. It felt like digging a well in arid land—digging for a long time, sweating profusely, only to see a little water seep out, then be absorbed by the sand.
But Lin Chen did not give up.
One day, two days, three days…
One month, two months, three months…
Every night he cultivated for four hours, from dusk until dawn. He dozed against the wall when exhaustion overtook him, waking to continue when he could. He slept less and less, yet his spirit grew stronger—this was no illusion. Though the seal suppressed his spiritual energy accumulation, the Chaos Art nourished his body in very real ways.
Three months later, on a certain night, Lin Chen completed his one hundred and eighth small circulation.
In that moment, he felt all his meridians vibrate as one.
Like a crumpled piece of paper being slowly smoothed out.
Like a dusty ancient zither having its first string gently plucked.
He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands.
His fingers were long and pale, no different from three months ago. But he could feel something flowing beneath his skin. Not spiritual energy, but something more fundamental—like blood, or light.
"It is done," Jing Lao's voice came, carrying a trace of satisfaction. "One hundred and eight small circulations. Your meridians are fully reshaped. From now on, you can begin accumulating spiritual energy."
Lin Chen clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking faintly.
"The seal?"
"Still there." Jing Lao's tone grew serious. "But you have laid the foundation. Next, you must break through to the first layer of Qi Condensation. This is the first step in cultivation, and the most difficult. Countless people spend their entire lives unable to cross this threshold."
"I know," Lin Chen said.
"What you do not know," Jing Lao continued, "is that because of the seal upon you, breaking through the first layer will be ten times harder than for an ordinary person. An ordinary person only needs to condense a thread of spiritual energy in their dantian. You must surpass the seal's devouring threshold."
"How much spiritual energy will I need?"
"Roughly equivalent to the amount needed for an ordinary person to reach the tenth layer of Qi Condensation."
Lin Chen was silent.
The amount needed for an ordinary person to reach the tenth layer meant he would have to endure ten times the pain and spend ten times the time.
"Then ten times it is," he said. His voice was soft, but carried an undeniable resolve.
Jing Lao said nothing more.
But Lin Chen could feel, in that wisp of a remnant soul, a glimmer of approval.
Another moonlit night.
Lin Chen sat cross-legged on his bed, his spiritual energy circulating at full intensity.
For three months, he had cultivated four hours every night without pause. His meridians were now several times wider than three months ago, and his spiritual energy moved far more swiftly. But the seal was like a beast that could never be sated, devouring most of the energy he produced.
Tonight, he would attempt to break through to the first layer of Qi Condensation.
"Are you ready?" Jing Lao asked.
"I'm ready."
"Remember, when you break through, your spiritual energy will strike against the seal in your dantian. It will be very painful. Extremely painful. If you cannot endure, you may stop. There is no rush."
"I won't stop."
Jing Lao was silent for a moment, then said, "Begin."
Lin Chen closed his eyes and sank all his focus into his dantian.
Within his dantian, his spiritual energy had accumulated to an unprecedented concentration—though still negligible to an outsider's eye, for Lin Chen, this was the limit of what he had achieved in sixteen years.
He took a deep breath and guided all of his spiritual energy to surge toward the seal at the center of his dantian.
Boom!
The moment the energy struck the seal, an explosive pain detonated in his dantian, as if a fire had been lit inside him. Lin Chen's whole body trembled, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat instantly soaking his clothes.
The seal shook.
Just a slight tremor, like an ant ramming into a mountain.
But that one tremor showed Lin Chen a glimmer of hope.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he continued guiding his spiritual energy to strike the seal.
Once, twice, three times…
Each strike brought searing pain, each strike only caused the seal to tremble faintly. But Lin Chen did not stop. His consciousness blurred from the agony, sustained only by a single conviction—
Break through.
He must break through.
The seventeenth strike.
His spiritual energy was exhausted.
The seal did not budge.
Lin Chen's body swayed, and with a spray of blood from his mouth, his clothes were stained red.
"Enough!" Jing Lao said sharply. "Stop! If you continue, your meridians will rupture!"
Lin Chen did not move.
His eyes were closed, a trail of blood at the corner of his mouth, his face pale as paper. But his breathing gradually steadied. Though his spiritual energy was depleted, his meridians were intact—three months of training had not been in vain. His meridians were now strong enough to withstand this assault.
"I failed," he said quietly, his tone calm, revealing neither joy nor sorrow.
"You failed," Jing Lao confirmed, his tone equally calm. "But you should not be surprised. I told you—you need ten times the spiritual energy of an ordinary person. The energy you accumulated today amounts to perhaps one-tenth of what an ordinary person needs for the first layer. You still have a long way to go."
"Nine-tenths," Lin Chen said.
"Yes. At your current pace, about nine more months."
Nine months.
Lin Chen wiped the blood from his mouth and straightened his posture.
"Then nine months it is."
He closed his eyes and began circulating the Chaos Art once more.
Jing Lao said nothing.
But deep within the gray, clouded bronze mirror, a faint light flickered—like an ancient hand, gently patting a young man's shoulder.
That night, the Lin family's back courtyard was very quiet.
No one knew that in that broken woodshed, a young man called a waste by everyone was slowly, painfully climbing the path that fate had laid before him.
Slow.
So slow.
But he never stopped.