A New Beginning

With lingering doubts and a heart full of defiance, Yang Fan once again entered the Xianhong Realm. This time, he found himself immediately inside the warehouse, surrounded by some of his most cherished belongings. Stepping out onto the verdant earth, an inexplicable sensation surged within him, a feeling difficult to put into words.

The entire space was deathly silent. The crimson-black soil beneath his feet exuded a desolate aura, like the breath of death itself, flooding toward him like a tide. Yang Fan's spirit trembled; for the first time, he felt utterly isolated.

Even after losing his powers, when he endured humiliation and scorn at the Yang Fortress and was rejected by nearly everyone, his heart had remained clear and steadfast. But in this moment, as he stood upon the small patch of green amidst a wasteland steeped in deathly stillness, an overwhelming sense of loneliness and helplessness washed over him.

From the green land, a faint, flowing stream of energy seeped into his body, and in an instant, he entered that peculiar state once more—where he seemed to meld with his surroundings and could control everything within them. A patch of green earth, holding its ground against the endless stretch of death, remained serene and lush. It was like an oasis in a boundless desert, a beacon of hope for countless lost souls, bringing tears to their eyes with the sheer joy of finding it.

In that fleeting moment, the feelings of isolation and helplessness in Yang Fan's heart vanished without a trace. 

*If I were a tree, I would thrive in exuberance; if I were a blade of grass, I would sway in verdant resilience.*

In that moment, Yang Fan grasped the tenacity and indomitable nature of life.

Exhaling deeply after a long pause, he felt a sense of clarity. In just this single moment of enlightenment, he sensed that his soul had ascended to a higher realm. His spiritual strength had leapt to the pinnacle of the Qi Refining stage. The speed of this growth terrified him.

In less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea, Yang Fan had reached a level that others might spend ten or twenty years striving for. His soul had reached the apex of the Qi Refining stage, and now, if he wanted his cultivation to catch up to this level, it would only require diligent practice in the physical world—a mere formality.

"Congratulations, Master," the little dog beside the thatched hut said joyfully.

Yang Fan stretched his body and only then began to realize the profound mysteries of the *Xianhong Manual*. It truly was an ancient and unparalleled art. Yet, despite its vast potential, he still felt something was lacking to be deemed truly "defiant against heaven."

The art seemed to be centered around the healing arts, while its myriad other techniques and divine powers were merely peripheral. Most vexing of all was the selfless and all-embracing philosophy behind the "Sacred Healing Chapter," a noble yet infuriating spirit of "unconditional love and sacrifice for the world."

This was something Yang Fan found difficult to accept. In today's cultivation world, most practitioners were selfish and self-serving, fighting over magical treasures, elixirs, and other benefits—even at the cost of their lives.

"Little dog, is this *Xianhong Manual* truly the heaven-defying art you spoke of?" Yang Fan asked calmly, his face betraying only mild confusion. He wasn't dissatisfied with the *Xianhong Manual's* power, just puzzled.

The *Xianhong Manual* was a technique that could truly lead one to the shores of immortality. That alone left Yang Fan with no cause for complaint.

"Yes, of course! Do you have any doubts?" the little dog asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, this art focuses on healing and upholds a philosophy of selfless love for all beings," Yang Fan replied, his face tinged with a trace of doubt.

"I've never cultivated the *Xianhong Manual* myself," the dog hesitated, then continued, "But as a heaven-defying art, it is unique in this world. Only one person can cultivate it at a time. Still, I do know some things about it. It's not exactly a healing art—more like a... non-combat heaven-defying art."

"A non-combat art?" Yang Fan was taken aback, then said in exasperation, "So it's just an auxiliary technique, isn't it?"

"Well... maybe... probably... it could be..." the little dog stammered evasively.

"But don't worry. Even as an auxiliary technique, it's still heaven-defying! At the very least, it can help you dominate opponents of your level. As they say, its existence is justified," the dog chuckled.

Yang Fan fell into a long silence before finally asking, "Can I cultivate other techniques alongside this one? Perhaps some that grant great divine powers?"

"In theory... it should be possible," the dog replied, though uncertainty colored its tone.

"Alright then. I guess I asked the wrong person," Yang Fan shrugged, letting it go with a lighthearted air. It didn't matter whether it was a combat technique or an auxiliary one; as long as it gave him power and the chance to reach immortality, it was the best art for him. As for that nonsense about selfless love and sacrifice—it could go straight to hell. The "Side Path Chapter" held countless spells and powers that Yang Fan was eager to explore.

Before leaving, Yang Fan glanced at the five-hundred-year-old jade ginseng buried in the green earth. It had already regained some vitality, glowing with a constant flow of green light.

"Good. It's fully revived now. It won't be long before it becomes a valuable five-hundred-year-old jade ginseng," Yang Fan thought, chuckling to himself. He'd acquired a priceless treasure worth hundreds of spirit stones without spending a single one.

As he gazed at the green land, his eyes gleamed with excitement. This was a goldmine, a true gift from the heavens!

"Hmm? Why does it feel like the size of this green patch has expanded slightly?" Yang Fan murmured, noticing something off.

Was it an illusion? He used his spiritual sense to check, feeling the land had indeed grown, though imperceptibly.

"Strange..." He dismissed it as a trick of the mind and returned to the warehouse. A moment later, his figure vanished from the Xianhong Realm.

The little dog, watching Yang Fan's departure, muttered to itself, "My master really is an idiot... Oh no! I almost forgot—I can't talk behind his back. He'll find out one day..." The dog's face twisted in regret.

…

By the campfire, Yang Fan surveyed the silent woods once more. A deep, vibrant green filled his heart. 

*There's still half the night left. Why not use it to cultivate?*

Sitting cross-legged, Yang Fan began contemplating the contents of the incomplete *Qi Refining Chapter*. Mysterious and indecipherable chants and symbols spiraled through his mind.

By all rights, the *Qi Refining Chapter* should have been incomparably difficult and far more profound than typical cultivation techniques—ten times more so, at least. Yet, Yang Fan found himself grasping its mysteries as though in a hazy trance. And even though he understood it, he couldn't express its essence in words.

Perhaps it was due to his spiritual power having reached the Great Perfection of Qi Refining, but within half a night, Yang Fan had already developed *qi* awareness—the critical threshold for entering the Qi Refining stage.

The sensation of *qi* was an essential milestone for any cultivator entering this realm. Delicate strands of cool, green energy flowed within him—intangible, formless, colorless, and odorless. It was a kind of power Yang Fan could barely perceive, and others could not sense it at all.

To an outsider, Yang Fan's body appeared empty, devoid of any *qi* or magical energy. But he knew, with certainty, that he had already touched the edge of the Qi Refining stage.

The next morning, as the dew fell upon his forehead, Yang Fan remained seated, motionless as a tree. The fire beside him had long since died out, leaving him immersed in a tranquil state. Within a twenty-zhang radius, every breath, every ant, every falling leaf felt connected to his senses.

As the cold dew touched his brow, Yang Fan opened his eyes. In that moment, they seemed to flash with a verdant green, like the gentle nourishment of raindrops. His entire demeanor had changed subtly. Anyone seeing him now would instinctively feel a sense of warmth and affinity.

Yet even now, any ordinary Qi Refining cultivator examining him would find his body empty, devoid of magical power. Standing by the extinguished fire, Yang Fan smiled faintly. Raising a single finger, he flicked it lightly. A spark leaped forth, and a fireball shot out, striking a nearby tree.

*Bang!*

The fire burned on the tree for a brief moment before the damp forest air snuffed it out, leaving only a charred mark.

"Heh..." Yang Fan's smile widened.

The night before, he had lost all his power. Yet now, after just one night, he had successfully cast his first spell since his "rebirth."

*Fireball Technique*, the most basic of spells, yet to Yang Fan, it marked a new beginning.