Shadow Veil

I awoke in darkness. The morning dawn had long since passed, and the heavy veil of night had returned, draping the sect grounds in its quiet stillness. Though I had slept for an entire day, my body still bore the fatigue of my relentless training. The strain on my Qi reserves and physical endurance lingered, a quiet reminder of the price paid for progress.

Weakness, however, was not enough to dissuade me. Today, I would push further. The Ebonspire Peak awaited-a place where the shadows reigned, where the mist and gloom provided the ideal environment for honing the advanced techniques I had begun to understand. My goal was not mere practice but refinement.

I rose and dressed, ignoring the quiet stiffness in my limbs. Outside, the sky was moonlit yet wholly dark. The sect's courtyards lay silent. Only an occasional lamp or glowing rune illuminated a path through the main thoroughfares.

My footsteps led me past rows of simple residences. At this hour, most inhabitants were in deep meditation or restful sleep, replenishing their Qi for the coming day. I did not linger. My route wound toward the outskirts of the sect's main grounds, where the grand silhouette of Ebonspire Peak towered over everything else-a silent sentinel wrapped in clouds.

A winding, uneven trail led up the mountain, each step taking me higher into the chilled night air. The further I climbed, the denser the mist became. Midway up, I encountered a lone disciple descending. He paused upon seeing me, as though to exchange a greeting, but thought better of it. His robes were damp, and a tired resignation edged his eyes. With the barest nod, he continued down, not a word passing between us.

At last, I arrived at an ancient archway carved from dark stone. Cracked and worn by time, it was engraved with symbols representing night, mist, and illusions. A lone attendant in drab robes stood before it, his posture rigid despite the lateness of the hour. He extended a hand, wordlessly requesting payment. One thousand Spirit Stones was the toll to enter Ebonspire Peak. A steep cost, indeed-enough to deter many from frequent visits.

I placed the mid-grade stones in his hand, feeling their faint spiritual hum against my fingertips. He stepped aside, permitting me to pass. A subtle buzz of Qi registered against my skin as I crossed the threshold. Formations were woven into the mountain's very foundation, ensuring that only those who paid could enter freely-and only those prepared to endure the mountain's trials would find it worthwhile.

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted. The temperature dropped, cold enough that my breath became faint clouds in the moonlight. The mist thickened, so dense that it clung to my robes and hair. Shadows flickered in the corners of my vision, and the air carried an electric tension that hinted at illusions lying in wait.

Ebonspire Peak was said to be a living test for stealth and illusion arts. The swirling gloom masked the true shapes of rock faces and cliffs, making the environment seem fluid and ever-changing. Concentration was paramount here; lose focus, and you could step off a ledge or waste hours going in circles through the fog.

I moved slowly, my senses attuned to the silent pulses of Qi around me. The peaks high overhead were invisible, swallowed by the blackness and swirling haze. Occasionally, I heard drips of water as the mist condensed on stone outcroppings, echoing faintly in the surrounding emptiness.

I arrived at a secluded plateau on Ebonspire Peak, recalling how just the day before, I had only managed fleeting successes in phasing parts of my body into shadow. Shadow Slip had proven particularly elusive, letting me sink a hand into darkness for moments but never quite achieving a complete transition. Here, among the roiling mist and near-perpetual gloom, I intended to push further.

From the outset, the environment felt different. The yin Qi that permeated the mountain surged around me in thick waves, more concentrated than anything I had experienced in a standard training hall. Taking a position near a large boulder, I closed my eyes and let the memory of those partial slips guide me. Where before I fought a stuttering resistance-like a membrane snapping me back-now I sensed a more welcoming flow. Each attempt to meld into the shadows carried me deeper, until my entire form briefly lost its solidity. When I opened my eyes, the mist parted as though I were barely there. A small victory.

Spurred on, I moved to refine the other arts I had scraped together from the Veil of Eternal Night. My attempts at layering a defensive veil against stronger attacks before had been promising, but still rudimentary. This time, the surrounding darkness practically oozed into the thin sheets of Qi I generated, making them sturdier. I had never felt so comfortable sustaining multiple overlapping layers-usually draining to maintain. Now, the synergy of Ebonspire's gloom extended how long I could hold them, letting me withstand imaginary barrages with more ease than I thought possible.

Likewise, I polished the pinpoint Qi strikes that disrupted an opponent's meridians. Where my prior forays had produced small punctures in wooden dummies, I now easily channeled the necessary threadlike Qi, conjuring multiple rapid-fire hits without draining myself to near collapse. The entire environment seemed to bolster my precision, letting me control the injection of shadow Qi with micro-adjustments I would not have managed in standard lighting.

At one point, I took up my Tang Dao and reinfused it with Qi to observe how the corrosive aura responded to these conditions. Where before the blade's dark film stuttered or drained me quickly, here it bristled with stable energy, the roiling mist supplying just enough external yin to reduce my expenditure. If a real foe stood before me, they would face a blade that simultaneously sliced and corroded, thanks to an aura that fed on the mountain's shadows almost as much as my own Qi.

Finally, I rehearsed illusions and partial afterimages while traversing the plateau, layering them with sharper clarity. I had done something similar in the past-shimmering silhouettes that flickered around me-but now each projected double hung in the air a fraction longer, as though loath to dissipate in an environment so saturated with yin energy. Even my efforts to craft ephemeral sounds blossomed. At one juncture, I tested a half-dozen illusions of distant footfalls, faint whispers, and trickling water all at once, each blending uncannily into Ebonspire's natural hush.

Every hour of practice chipped away at my prior limitations. By the time I approached the edge of the plateau, I realized the intangible resistance I once felt had nearly vanished. My intangible slip had become smoother, my illusions far more coherent, and my defensive layering steadier. Though drenched in sweat, I savored a sense of momentum that ordinary training sessions simply never matched.

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Beneath the jagged outcrops of Ebonspire Peak, a lone figure continued to train into the late hours, guided only by the faint moonlight and the roiling banks of mist that clung to every surface. Ayanokoji, cloaked in shadows, moved from stance to stance with an effortless, silent grace. No outward signs of strain marked his face or posture, though the aura of tension around him signaled the complexity of each technique he unleashed.

From a distance, one might have observed subtle changes in the atmosphere around him. Each time he invoked Shadow Slip, the darkness about his form seemed to pulse as though acknowledging him, letting him fade until only a blurred outline remained. Whenever he extended his palm in a half-seen strike, the shapes of Nightcaller's Grasp would swirl into existence, black tendrils lashing at imaginary foes. The hush of Ebonspire absorbed his illusions, turning them into a silent spectacle of half-formed shapes and ephemeral afterimages.

As the night wore on, a new phenomenon began to manifest-one Ayanokoji himself seemed unaware of. At first, it appeared as a faint distortion in the air around him, like heat haze rippling in the desert. But here, under Ebonspire's gloom, it took on a darker cast, resembling a sheen of condensed shadow that draped across his shoulders and arms. Each time he paused to cycle Qi or shift into a new technique, the distortion solidified, hugging his form like a weightless mantle.

Were an onlooker familiar with the highest secrets of the Veil of Eternal Night, they would recognize the beginnings of a Shadow Veil. This was no simple Qi barrier or ephemeral shield. According to the manual's final chapters, the Shadow Veil was a naturally forming phenomenon once a cultivator neared the peak of Qi Condensation while steeped in the manual's shadow path. It infused the cultivator's presence with a muffling effect, dampening both sound and spiritual detection. In essence, it was the ultimate synergy of yin Qi, illusions, and intangible stealth-an aura that blurred the cultivator's edges, making them a living embodiment of darkness.

At that moment, Ayanokoji stood near a sheer drop, scanning the horizon. His posture remained poised, left hand resting lightly on the hilt of his Tang Dao. The faint, shadowy distortion radiated from his shoulders and back, forming a dim swirl that almost resembled a trailing cloak. Yet if asked, he would have no explanation for what was happening; the text of the manual had hinted at advanced transformations but never stated precisely how or when they might occur.

Under the pale moonlight, he took a step forward. Instead of his footfall echoing on stone, the impact was muffled. An outside observer might note how even the scuff of his robes against the rocky ground produced hardly a sound. With each slow breath, the shadow veil flickered, intensifying as though feeding on the dense yin Qi saturating the environment.

He tested another short dash, combining Shimmerstep and the intangible flicker of Shadow Slip. In the gloom, multiple afterimages overlaid in quick succession, each one near-flawless. Only a discerning eye would see the real Ayanokoji as he reemerged from intangible partiality. The newly formed Shadow Veil stayed around him, continuing to swirl and breathe with his motions.

Though physically taxed, he appeared as calm as the surrounding night, cycling through every technique in turn. The entire plateau seemed an extension of his will, responding to the silent command of his near-pure meridians. And as the hours wore on, the intangible swirl of shadow covering him thickened.

If there had been watchers perched on a distant ledge, they might have witnessed something that defied ordinary sense: a cultivator on the verge of blending wholly into the environment, leaving behind only the faintest imprint of Qi. Attacks, illusions, stealth-these had begun to merge into a single seamless style, guided by unwavering discipline.

By the time the moon dipped behind the mountain range, Ayanokoji's form was nearly lost in the gloom. Only in the faint shimmer of starlight could one discern his outline-and even that was questionable. Such was the power of a budding Shadow Veil-not a technique he had deliberately conjured, but the natural result of saturating himself in the Veil of Eternal Night's teachings at a near-peak Qi Condensation level. Soundless, intangible, and elusive, it would soon become the hallmark of one who walked the true path of shadows, overshadowing lesser illusions with pure presence.

And Ayanokoji, unknowing of this silent transformation, simply trained on, refining each skill with methodical focus. The hush of Ebonspire cloaked his repetitive drills, and when dawn arrived, nothing but faint scuffs on the plateau's surface hinted that a cultivator had used it as a training ground.

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I left Ebonspire Peak under the faint glow of a waning moon, each step carrying me away from the roiling mist and down onto more familiar sect grounds. My body ached from hours of unrelenting practice, yet some part of me felt strangely invigorated. The thin mountain air, frigid and laced with residual yin Qi, filled my lungs as I navigated the winding path leading out of that shrouded domain.

It was only when I passed the archway at the mountain's base that I realized something had changed. At first, it was subtle-like a sense of clarity, as if a curtain I hadn't known existed had been pulled aside. My breath came more easily despite my fatigue, and each inhalation carried an underlying note of darkness, a familiar hum that pulsed beneath my perceptions. I couldn't pinpoint what caused this heightened awareness. Every swirl of shadow in my peripheral vision looked sharper. Even the torchlit corridors felt less constraining, as though the darkness between the flames was now an extension of me.

The old attendant at Ebonspire's gate cast me a passing glance, but I scarcely registered his presence. My thoughts swirled around the training I'd just concluded. On the plateau, my mastery of illusions, intangible slips, and layered veils had elevated in a way I hadn't predicted. A sense of synergy with the gloom had allowed me to refine each technique more quickly. Now, as I walked through the main thoroughfares leading back toward my quarters, that synergy lingered.

I left Ebonspire Peak under the faint glow of a waning moon, each step carrying me away from the swirling fog and back onto the more familiar sect pathways. My limbs ached from the hours of relentless cultivation, yet something within me felt sharpened-like a blade honed to a keener edge than before. The training at Ebonspire had revealed new depths of synergy with darkness, but I hadn't realized how much until I crossed the threshold at the mountain's base. Almost instantly, the world felt clearer, as if the veil of night had become an open window rather than a closed door.

I paused briefly, glancing toward the distant lights of the main sect grounds. Normally, I would have gone straight to my quarters to collapse into rest, but I recalled an errand I'd been postponing: a mission draft I had prepared a few days earlier. The sect allowed disciples to post requests for assistance-anything from manual labor to refining raw materials-and I'd been meaning to have my stock of ingredients processed by less competent hands. It would free me from the tedium of basic tasks and let me focus on cultivation and specialized alchemy.

Stepping off the main path, I threaded through dim corridors until I arrived at my personal living quarters. The small wooden door creaked softly as I entered. I didn't bother lighting a lamp. My eyes had adjusted to darkness so thoroughly that even a faint glow would feel excessive. Besides, the rummaging I needed was simple: I found the neatly rolled parchment on a low shelf, exactly where I'd left it. It contained the list of materials-herbs, beast parts, and assorted ores-along with the specifics of what I wanted done with them. All that remained was to submit this mission request at the hall.

In the quiet hush of dawn, I returned to the outer courtyards. The administrative wing of the sect wasn't far, a compound of sturdy stone buildings connected by covered walkways. At this hour, it was nearly deserted, though a solitary clerk behind a counter looked up as I arrived.

His gaze was uninterested, flicking to the parchment I carried. Wordlessly, he gestured for me to hand it over. I unrolled the document, quickly scanning to ensure everything was in order-a short description of the raw materials, the tasks, and the Spirit Stone payment I was willing to provide. He took the roll, eyes skimming across the text. With a curt nod, he placed it in a wooden tray on his desk.

"It will be posted in the morning," he mumbled. I offered no reply. The business was concluded.

Tucking my hands into my sleeves, I exited the hall, drifting into the dawn air once more. With the mission draft settled, my schedule felt freer. My body wanted rest, but I sensed an undercurrent of energy-I had grown to enjoy exploring the edge of my limits. I recalled how the final hours at Ebonspire had left me with an inexplicable clarity, a closeness to the darkness that hadn't diminished even upon returning. Tonight would be an opportune time to see how this heightened sense translated into actual combat.

The Silent Arena came to mind. A place where disciples fought in absolute blackness and silence, forced to rely on spiritual sense and raw intuition. The White Room had trained me well in the realm of pure technique and strategy, but that was mundane combat-no cultivator Qi, illusions, or intangible steps. My only real experience mixing martial skill with spiritual power was a brief clash with Shen Rong. That was barely enough to prepare me for the complexities of a world teeming with cultivators. If I wanted to survive beyond sect walls, I had to learn quickly how to handle real Qi-based confrontations.

Rounding a lantern-lit corner, I found the unobtrusive entrance to the Silent Arena: a stone archway descending into the earth, lit by a single dim lamp. Within, winding corridors branched off into multiple sparring grounds, each sealed by a specialized formation that suppressed sound and light. Stepping inside, I felt the familiar hush. A few disciples stood in small clusters, talking in subdued tones or waiting for an opponent to appear.

The place functioned largely on anonymity. One could fight without revealing their identity, entering a ground alone and meeting opponents who simply stepped through from the opposite corridor. After the match, you could choose to speak, exchange pointers, or walk away unnoticed. Most of these sparring arenas were used by cultivators in the fifth stage of Qi Condensation or higher. Outer sect disciples seldom ventured here-the environment was punishingly reliant on advanced comprehension of shadows and spiritual sense. Only those nearing the threshold to the inner sect found it feasible.

Keeping my aura subdued, I slid into a corridor leading to one of the smaller arenas. The arrangement was straightforward: I walked to the end, a door slid open, and I entered a circular chamber. The moment I crossed the threshold, the door sealed, plunging me into absolute darkness and silence. No echoes of footsteps. No flicker of torchlight. A perfect void.

I stood motionless, letting my senses adapt. Typically, the shock of total deprivation took me a moment to overcome. Yet this time, the darkness felt welcoming, almost comforting. The hush of the air brushed against my skin, or perhaps it was the subtle synergy with the shadows that I'd acquired. I'd never experienced it so acutely before.

Moments later, I sensed a faint ripple in the formation: an opponent entering from the opposite side. A match was about to begin. However, the Qi signature I felt was weak, perhaps a fourth-stage cultivator. The hush settled fully, marking the start of the bout.

Suddenly, a clumsy wave of Qi swept out, presumably an attempt to detect me. The wave was unfocused, splaying across the arena with no precision. Slipping aside with a minimal shift of my stance, I layered a single small illusion behind them, conjuring the faint sense of footsteps. Their Qi flailed again, missing everything. The technique was severely lacking, and their comprehension was almost nonexistent.

Stepping closer, I realized I needed to end this quickly-it was hardly a fair fight. Summoning a wisp of intangible slip to lighten my presence, I closed the gap. Without waiting for them to thrash about, I placed a gentle palm on their shoulder, releasing a mild disruption of Qi. The fight concluded. The entire match lasted mere seconds.

Based on the body language I could sense from the disciples, he was confused about what had happened. They realized how thoroughly outclassed they were. I turned away, letting them process the defeat. Outside the corridor, I mulled over the mismatch. This was exactly why only advanced outer disciples-those with a deeper shadow comprehension-dared to come here. Those at the fourth stage were mostly lacking in insight and were easy enemies.

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I tried another ground. Again, a fourth-stage disciple, again minimal skill in navigation by spiritual sense. They left themselves open to illusions, intangible approaches, or even a direct assault. No challenge. Even a third fourth-stager showed up. He had a better sense of the environment-briefly tracking me via short pulses of Qi. He lasted half a minute before I cornered and lightly tapped him in the flank.

It was only after these three bouts that a suitable match emerged: I stepped into one of the larger silent arenas, the entrance sealing behind me as the formation activated. Instantly, I sensed a presence across the void, far more substantial than the lesser disciples I had faced before. The Qi signature felt thick and steady, likely a fifth-stage cultivator accustomed to combat. Although the darkness remained absolute and my ears registered no sound, the faintest ripples of Qi painted the outline of their movements in my mind's eye.

They struck first, launching a concentrated surge of shadow energy that fanned out in an arc, each thread carrying a corrosive edge. The wave closed in swiftly, leaving little room to dodge. I willed a half-intangible slip, letting the swirling darkness around me merge with my body, reducing my physical presence so the energy slid just wide of my torso. Even with my newfound synergy in the shadows, the brush of that wave crackled against my skin, making my arms tingle from the residual Qi.

From the dissipating shockwaves, I tracked their next move. Another volley, more compact and focused, scythed through the darkness toward me. A second dodge was trickier-my intangible slip demanded precision, or I risked draining precious Qi reserves I couldn't afford to waste. Instead of fully phasing out, I invoked a pinpoint Dark Veil on my left forearm, concentrating shadow Qi to absorb the brunt of the blow. The impact rattled my bones, a reminder that my opponent's raw power outclassed most I'd faced. Still, I maintained footing, letting the hush swallow any grunt of effort.

Sensing a momentary lull in their onslaught, I countered with a short, lancing wave of Shadow Infusion, aiming to test their defense. They deflected it almost casually, dispersing my Qi with a layered barrier of shadow. If I tried a bigger blast to break through, I might exhaust my Qi dangerously quickly, so I kept my output modest. In that instant, it became clear: my adversary's higher realm granted a more substantial Qi pool. An extended trade of brute-force blows would favor them. I needed to rely on adaptability, illusions, and movement.

I masked my presence with illusions-a ghostly swirl of footsteps behind them-while stepping aside. Their counter-sweep tore at empty air, revealing a slight gap in their stance. I exploited it, slipping in close with a combination of half-intangible steps and precise footwork. My palms churned with minimal bursts of Qi, each strike aimed to disrupt their meridians rather than deliver crushing damage. Even so, I felt the strain mounting. My Qi levels dipped with every technique, while their reservoir seemed deeper, steadier.

They retaliated by invoking a more advanced skill, unleashing a twisting mass of darkness that coiled like serpents in the void, each tendril designed to latch onto my position. Dodging one or two was easy; dodging half a dozen demanded all my attention. I tapped further into intangible slip, letting three of the tendrils pass through my semi-incorporeal form, while deflecting a fourth with a carefully placed veil on my shoulder. The last two I evaded by conjuring faint illusions at the perimeter, luring the attacks astray. My heart thumped at the edges of my hearing-a sign that I was burning Qi faster than ideal.

Even so, my spatial awareness in the dark arena gave me a discernible edge. Each ripple of Qi marked the cultivator's location, each shift in the gloom painting an image in my mind. I closed the distance on them gradually, never exposing myself to a direct hit. In turn, they hurled more arcs of corrosive Qi. My illusions wove around me seamlessly, short bursts of intangible phasing preserving my Qi. Despite my caution, the occasional shockwave brushed me, stinging my arms or rattling my balance. Still, I stayed on course, refusing to cede an inch.

Finally, I spotted the opening I had waited for. The enemy, tiring from repeated large-scale attacks, allowed a fraction of delay between their summons of shadow blasts. I feigned another dodge, then sprang in with a sudden Whisping Step. My left arm formed a tiny, pinpoint Dark Veil-an insanely risky defense, but certain if placed perfectly. Their reaction was fierce: a final, desperate slash of condensed darkness aimed at my torso. I angled the micro-shield precisely where I sensed the blow would land, feeling the collision of Qi reverberate along my bones. The force nearly toppled me. But it didn't break through.

In that critical moment of contact, I infused my free hand with a concentrated sliver of shadow Qi, ramming it into their ribcage at an acupoint that disrupted the meridian flow. They staggered, the fight ending in a quiet pop. The barrier lifted, revealing them dropping to one knee, struggling to reorient. I stood, slightly out of breath, arms tingling from the recoil of their onslaught. Despite the draining toll on my Qi and the newfound pains in my limbs, victory was mine.

I turned without ceremony, letting the darkness cloak my exit. In that fight, I'd sensed it again: the darkness bending more readily, illusions weaving without friction, intangible steps aligning with my movements almost autonomously. The Shadow Veil had manifested itself once more, anchoring me in the hush, keeping me a step ahead of my opponent's sense of sight or Qi detection. Not quite the apex, but enough to dominate the night.

Outside the barrier, I felt the resonance thrumming in my meridians, the synergy with shadows feeding each technique. It was so easy to read their attacks, and so fluid to respond with minimal movement. And that was when I recognized the underlying shift: I could see, feel, and direct the darkness around me with startling ease. The illusions, intangible phases, and pinpoint veils all wove together naturally, leaving me less drained than I should have been.

Leaning against a wall in a quieter passage of the Silent Arena, I recalled the advanced phenomenon described in the Veil of Eternal Night: the Shadow Veil, a natural aura typically manifesting near the peak of Qi Condensation. It explained the heightened synergy, the muffled steps, and the illusions forming with minimal Qi. The text mentioned that this phenomenon usually only surfaced when one's meridians and yin alignment reached a certain point-something beyond standard mid-level breakthroughs.

Confusion tugged at me. I was not that far along. By conventional measure, I should be at best at the peak of the lower stages, nowhere near the apex. Yet the synergy was undeniable. Ebonspire Peak's intense yin environment must have triggered some accelerated resonance with my near-pure body, giving me partial access to an ability that others only glimpsed at the final cusp of Qi Condensation.

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Entering another corridor, I sensed an aura in one of the larger sparring chambers-a strong one. Even from outside, its weight pressed on my spirit. A swirl of Qi teased the edges of my consciousness, carrying a depth suggesting the sixth stage of Qi Condensation, a tier generally reserved for inner sect disciples. A gap of three realms yawned between us. By normal logic, I had no place confronting an opponent of that caliber. But I was curious about the results of the past days and how I fare in comparison to someone at the peak of the mid-stage of Qi Condensation.

I stepped through the entrance. The door closed behind me, dropping us both into absolute blackness and silence. My opponent's aura flared, scanning the arena. Almost immediately, I sensed their dismissiveness. They must have recognized my comparatively weak realm, labeling me a trifling outer sect disciple-someone they could toy with.

The fight commenced with a shockwave of Qi. They sent it forth lazily, expecting I'd succumb in moments. I channeled a small intangible slip, letting the swirl of darkness cradle my form. The attack whooshed past with minimal disturbance. My opponent released a huff-likely annoyed at my deflection. Another wave came, stronger, sharper. This time, I formed a minimal Dark Veil patch against my forearm, precisely aligned to intercept. A jarring impact spread through my bones, nearly forcing me back. Even so, I stood my ground. My Qi wavered.

A third attack followed, this time in multiple arcs, each angled unpredictably. Advanced techniques from a presumably skilled cultivator. My intangible slip flickered in and out, letting two arcs sail through empty air. I employed illusions to mask my true position from the remaining arcs, threading my way closer. A frown undoubtedly creased my opponent's brow though I couldn't see it; they had expected a quick victory over some lower-stage disciple. Yet here I was, closing the gap.

They laughed-though the silence devoured the sound. I felt it in the vibrations of their Qi. Then they unleashed a barrage of swirling tendrils, each crackling with raw power. Dodging them tested the limit of my reflexes. I phased out partially, illusions dancing behind me, but one tendril clipped my side. A stinging ache flared along my ribs. I coughed, tasting iron on my tongue. Clearly, these intangible steps cost me dear effort, and each collision drained me. My Qi pool ran shallow compared to a sixth-stage cultivator's reservoir. I couldn't afford a prolonged slugfest.

Blood trickled past my lips as I steadied myself. My synergy with darkness allowed me to deflect many blows, but I couldn't keep it up forever. The gap in raw strength was evident. My advantage lay in illusions, footwork, and perfect timing. Summoning illusions now, I scattered faint flickers of Qi along the arena perimeter, emulating distinct attack signatures. My enemy recognized the pattern of swirling Qi as if I were about to cast a projectile technique. They shifted to intercept, presumably confident they had deduced my next move.

But I switched tactics at the final second, letting the illusions unravel. Instead of flinging a projectile, I burst into a Whisping Step, appearing nearly instantly at their flank. But as a sixth-stage cultivator, he sensed the shift. They swung an arm coated in Qi, a backhand aimed at my head. I had half-anticipated this reaction, so I chained another Whisping Step, layering it with Shimmerstep illusions. The intangible synergy lent a bizarre effect-suddenly, multiple versions of myself appeared, each carrying a faint Qi signature. My enemy faltered for a precious heartbeat, uncertain which silhouette was the real target.

In that moment, I launched a third Whisping Step, weaving in a minor Phantom Whispers effect. Though the arena consumed sound, the subtle illusions created a faint disturbance that brushed against their spiritual sense. Enough to compound their disorientation. I reappeared to their side, launching a decisive strike. Still, my opponent's cultivated reflexes allowed them to respond, unleashing a desperate burst of Qi that battered my torso. I felt bones rattle, warm blood rising in my throat. For a heartbeat, I thought I might collapse.

But I clenched my jaw, ignoring the sharp pain. 'Silent Fang'. I funneled a needle-thin thread of shadow Qi into my fingers, striking their meridians at close range. The disruption in their channel flow prevented them from immediately coalescing a fresh defensive barrier. With that opening, I poured the remainder of my Qi into a point-blank Shadow Infusion aimed at the center of their chest.

A muffled explosion rippled through the hush. My opponent had no chance to dodge or brace. The wave of energy flung them backward, slamming them into the arena's stone wall near the entrance. A dull reverberation echoed through my bones. The darkness lifted, revealing them crumpled on one knee, coughing violently. For a short moment, I thought they might recover and launch another assault. But they didn't. The fight ended in my favor.

I stood panting, arms trembling, taste of blood in my mouth. My Qi dangerously close to empty. Pain lanced my chest, and I realized that I'd sustained deeper injuries than I initially felt. Still, I had done it-defeated a sixth-stage cultivator in a true spar. Something no mere third-stage disciple should even contemplate.

I quietly left the arena before they could rise. Others might have demanded a forfeit or tried to claim bragging rights, but my goal wasn't fame. I needed real combat experience and had obtained it, albeit at a steep cost to my body and Qi.

Emerging into one of the main passages, I felt how battered I was. Blood stained my robe at the chest, arms, and legs where various strikes had grazed or pounded me. The bustling hush had given way to a subdued crowd, a few disciples eyeing me with puzzlement. Some recognized the battered form, making mental notes. Surely they suspected something remarkable had occurred. A third-stage outer disciple rarely limped away from an advanced arena with his own power.

I forced my breathing to slow and began to navigate the corridors. By now, the sun had crept high above the horizon-a sight I wasn't used to, given my current training routine. Stepping outside the underground entrance, the daylight nearly blinded me, making me squint. The entire courtyard felt alien. No fresh breeze of dawn, but rather a midday sun warmth that underscored how long I'd been fighting in darkness.

Pressing a hand to my wounded chest, I resolved to head for the medicine department to buy a few supplies. Even though I had a knowledge of alchemy, an immediate need for bandages and disinfectants trumped the time it would take to concoct pills for every cut and bruise. A basic kit would suffice, letting me stabilize my injuries before resting.

I traversed the sect's walkways, occasionally receiving curious glances from passing disciples. None approached me directly, though many must have wondered why an obvious outer sect disciple was wandering about in such disarray under the bright sun.

"Sigh...," A small sigh escaped my mouth "so much for the topic of not standing out too much..."

My steps carried me to a large building marked by a simple wooden sign: Medicine Department.

Inside, the familiar smell of herbs and sterilizing agents greeted me. Rows of shelves packed with jars and wrapped packets lined the walls. A clerk behind a small desk looked up. He saw the stains on my robe and immediately gestured me to a corner stocked with bandages, medicinal salves, and various antiseptics. I gathered what I needed-wraps and a small bottle of disinfectant. The clerk handed them over wordlessly, and I placed a handful of Spirit Stones on the counter. Transaction done, I left without fanfare.

My next destination was the mission hall I'd visited earlier to submit that refining request. Stepping inside, I found the same attendant from the previous night. He recognized me, eyebrows lifting slightly at my bruised condition. I approached and inquired about the status of my posted mission.

He slid a thin wooden tablet across the counter, each line etched with the name of a cultivator who had agreed to handle my refining request. I glanced at it, noting three names I didn't recognize. One, however, stood out: Lin Mei. Memories stirred-she had previously handled some discrete tasks for me, though I had never revealed my identity to her.

I nodded, slipping the tablet inside my robe. "I want to arrange a meeting this evening in a private room here. Let them know I'll be here at dusk."

The attendant gave a swift scribble in his ledger and then looked up. "Understood. We'll send word to all four."

That was all I needed. Turning, I moved through a side door leading to a quieter courtyard, avoiding the busier main entrance. Every stride jarred my injuries from the Silent Arena fights, but I showed no outward response-pain was a familiar companion, a mere inconvenience I had learned to work through. My body demanded rest, but I ignored the protest. I had tasks to complete, and no time to succumb to trivial discomfort.

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Reaching my modest living quarters, I slid the door shut behind me and paused for a moment, exhaling slowly. The injuries along my ribs and arms throbbed in time with my pulse, yet I gave no sign of distress beyond a slight pause in motion-pain, after all, was just pain, nothing more.

My eyes landed on the bandages and bottle of disinfectant I had bought earlier. I set them neatly on a low table. Stripping off my blood-smeared robe, I inspected the bruises and shallow cuts. Some were superficial, others more pronounced, but none threatened critical damage. I methodically dabbed disinfectant into the deeper wounds. It stung fiercely, but I didn't flinch. If I had learned anything, it was that pain should neither be shown nor wasted; my entire life had taught me to absorb it silently, forging my tolerance.

A faint sizzle arose from the cleansing process. I observed it with clinical detachment, acknowledging the chemical reaction without letting it interrupt my calm. Then I wrapped the bandages across my chest, arms, and legs. My Qi sense told me I'd need dedicated rest-or a specialized healing pill-for a complete recovery, but for now, merely stabilizing the injuries sufficed.

Once everything was snug, I sank onto my mat and let my thoughts drift to the next stage of my cultivation: a Qi Condensation Pill I'd meant to refine some time ago. Ever since I broke through to the third stage, my schedule had been devoured by repeated training sessions-training in the Hall of Resonance, culminating at the Ebonspire Peak and just now, fighting at the Silent Arena. But now, with illusions, intangible footwork, and the faint resonance of the Shadow Veil pushing my performance beyond my actual realm, the pill's benefits could be even more dramatic. It might catapult me from the third stage to the fourth in mere days, something that would normally demand months or even years of standard meditation.

Despite the allure, my current state was unsuitable for advanced alchemy. Refining a pill, especially one that impacted a cultivator's core growth, demanded unwavering focus, stable breath, and precise Qi control. Attempting it while injured risked contamination, pill failure, or even a backlash. Nevertheless, once I healed sufficiently, I would attempt it. The gap between the third stage and opponents at the fifth or sixth demanded higher cultivation, and the Qi Condensation Pill was my fastest route.

I popped a Qi Replenishing Pill into my mouth, its faintly bitter taste dissolving on my tongue as a cool wave of energy trickled into my depleted meridians. My eyes drifted shut, and I eased into meditation, letting the hush of my quarters envelop me. It took a few moments to calm my breath, align the scattered threads of Qi in my dantian, and prompt each thread to circulate smoothly.

Letting out a steady breath, I reasoned that the injuries, though noticeable, wouldn't sabotage my Qi flow. If that was the case, I concluded I'd be safe enough to attempt my Qi Condensation Pill refinement soon. My plan was straightforward: concoct the pill, then leverage its benefits to catapult my realm from the third stage toward the fourth. I had a short window left until I had to meet the four cultivators who'd accepted my refining mission in the evening-enough time to try refining the pill.

With my mind settled, I made my way out of my quarters and across the sect's midmorning bustle toward the Alchemy Department. My steps remained even, despite the dull ache creeping along my ribs. At least the day was bright and clear, allowing me to navigate quickly past disciples who were milling around, completing their own errands or daily tasks.

...

The Alchemy Department's main hall was large enough to accommodate a flurry of novices receiving instructions or senior alchemists conferring about higher-level pills. Typically, Bai Yun manned the reception desk, guiding newcomers and gatekeeping access to specialized stations. Today, however, she was nowhere in sight. Instead, a fourteen-year-old-looking girl, someone who would be in their last year of middle school, the age I left the White Room, sat perched behind a wide wooden counter, an open journal in hand. The cover and script looked suspiciously like the same type Bai Yun always read, possibly a different volume of the same series.

For a moment, I paused, trying to process the change. What happened to Bai Yun? Perhaps she'd advanced or simply moved to another position in the department. Rationally, it was none of my business, yet I was curious. But more than that, I found my attention caught by the younger girl's rapt focus on the journal, her eyes skimming lines with the same absorbed intensity Bai Yun once showed. It seems that those manuals are lucrative enough for someone to apply for this job.

Sensing my gaze, she lifted her head, meeting my eyes. I caught a flicker of annoyance across her features. Then she snapped the journal shut, furrowing her brow in evident displeasure at being interrupted. For a few seconds, she just stared, seemingly sizing me up in return, taking in my bandages and battered state.

She raised an eyebrow and beckoned me closer with a quick gesture. "You're staring a lot," she murmured in a teasing tone. "So, what-were you that enthralled by my stunning beauty?"

I stood unmoved. The entire notion that I'd be interested in a child in such a way was absurd. "I'm not interested in children," I said evenly. My voice lacked any tremor of emotion-merely a factual statement.

Her cheeks darkened, and her lips tightened in an irritated line. "Children? You look like a kid yourself," she shot back. "How old are you, anyway?"

I suppressed a sigh. If she realized I was a teenage cultivator as well, this conversation risked devolving. "That's irrelevant," I answered, my voice unwavering. "I'm here for a purpose, not idle chatter."

She flicked her eyes over my black flame insignia-the mark identifying me as a Novice Alchemist. "You're a novice too?" Her sarcasm receded, replaced by mild curiosity and shock. "Guess you're a year younger than me at most. So you're not that big."

Her remark failed to nettle me. Let her draw her own conclusions. She scrutinized the bandages wrapping my arms and torso. "What happened that left a novice alchemist looking like you just came from the slaughterfields?"

I shrugged, offering no details. "I don't know."

She arched an eyebrow again, but I withheld further explanation. Scanning someone with spiritual sense was considered invasive, especially among equals, so she didn't pry beyond that. "Alright," she muttered. "So you're here to buy ingredients or something?"

I nodded, letting my attention shift to the main corridor leading to the storage rooms. "Precisely," I said. "I need to purchase a few more items, plus some fresh resources. Then I'll see about booking a station if one's available."

Her eyes flicked pointedly at my bandages once more. "But seriously, if you're so beat up, can you handle refining pills right now?"

I gave the faintest shrug. "It's manageable."

She huffed, clearly unimpressed, and reopened her journal. "Fine, do what you want," she mumbled. Then, as I took a step to leave, she lifted her eyes again. "Your name?"

"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka," I answered simply, turning my gaze back to her.

A ghost of a smirk played on her lips. "I'm Li Xue," she replied. "You're free to head back to the quartermaster's office for supplies or forms. If you need anything else, just...let me know."Our brief exchange over, I headed past the desk, ignoring the mild sting that radiated from my side.

Moving down the hall, I turned into the storage area. Neat wooden racks lined the walls, filled with processed herbs, containers of elemental essences, and carefully labeled jars. A squat man in plain robes-likely the quartermaster-was perched on a stool, sorting inventory records. He glanced up as I approached, noticing my battered appearance but saying nothing about it.

Without pleasantries, I handed him a short list of items. "I need these for pill refinement," I said quietly, enumerating the half-dozen or so herbs and spiritual catalysts I lacked.

He nodded, checking the shelves. "Most are in stock," he murmured, pulling jars and pouches as needed. Two items required me to wait or pay extra for limited stock. I agreed to the extra cost. My finances could handle it for now.

Once the quartermaster bagged everything, I set a modest pile of Spirit Stones on the counter. The hush of the corridor behind me amplified the faint clink of stones.

I returned to the reception, Li Xue remained behind the counter, her journal reopened though she wasn't much further in the journal then before. Her eyes flickered toward me as I approached. She didn't bother to hide her curiosity but she also didn't speak immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if gauging my next move.

"I need to book a refinement room," I said opening my pouch. "For five hours."

Li Xue blinked, then let out a short scoff, tapping a finger against the cover of her journal. "Either you're dedicated or just plain reckless."

I didn't respond, merely waiting.

She exhaled and flipped open a thick, leather-bound ledger. "Lucky for you, there's a room available," she muttered, running a finger down the neatly written columns. "Standard alchemical station, warded against explosions. No additional enchantments. It'll be a hundred Spirit Stones."

I nodded and placed the exact amount in front of her.

She counted the stones swiftly before taking a wooden tablet from a nearby shelf, scribbling a few quick notes onto its surface. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she pushed it toward me. "Refinement Room 7, third corridor down the left. You've got five hours. Don't burn the place down."

I accepted the tablet without another word, turning on my heel and making my way toward the refinement halls.

The Alchemy Department was well-structured, built for efficiency. Wide corridors branched off into private rooms, each reinforced with protective formations to contain volatile reactions. The further one progressed into the inner chambers, the more advanced the rooms became-some equipped with rare formations that could enhance pill quality, others meant for high-level alchemists requiring specialized conditions.

I did not need such luxuries yet.

Arriving at the designated room, I placed the wooden tablet into the slot beside the door. A faint hum resonated as the protective formations recognized my temporary access. With a quiet creak, the heavy wooden door slid open, revealing a clean workspace-a sturdy furnace, a preparation table, a storage shelf, and a ventilation system that ensured fumes wouldn't linger.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, letting the silence settle.

Setting my bag of ingredients onto the table, I took a moment to assess everything. The materials were fresh, the furnace well-maintained. There would be no external factors interfering with my refinement.

I allowed a slow exhale. Now, it was time to work.

The first step is always the same: systematically sort each component. I confirm the Jade Ginseng Root is pristine, with no bruises or discoloration. The Spirit Root Powder must be measured out precisely-any lumps or uneven texture would create pockets of misbalance in the furnace. The Shadowmint Leaves I'd purchased, carefully, appear fresh; I test them by gently pressing out a drop of essence. It's got that faint black vapor, a sign of potency. I set the leaves aside, ready to extract more thoroughly in a moment.

Crimson Flame Resin, softened earlier with mild heat, sits in a small ceramic cup, a sticky red substance that needs delicate handling to avoid scorching. The Silver Lotus Seeds are next-fine powder or grated slivers might be best. I run a thumb over them to ensure the moisture content is minimal. Finally, the Condensed Starflower Petals, delicate and easily spoiled, wait in a sealed box, emanating a faint pastel sheen that indicates they're still potent. This is one of the final additions, so I keep it sealed until the right moment.

I placed each ingredient in separate porcelain bowls on the table, methodically checking them off my mental list. Bai Yun's process echoed in my mind-she had triple-checked each item's readiness before igniting the furnace. The memory was so vivid it was as if I were back in that observation hall, watching her movements.

I approached the furnace and placed my hand on the ignition crystal, channeling a precise stream of Qi. A steady blue flame flickered to life inside the chamber, casting a soft glow across the room. Adjusting the controls, I stabilized the temperature, ensuring it remained within the optimal range for the first stage of refinement.

The first ingredient, the powdered Spirit Root, was added slowly. Bai Yun had demonstrated a measured approach, ensuring the powder dispersed evenly and fused with the flames. I followed her method, watching as the energy within the furnace shimmered slightly, signaling successful integration.

Next, I extracted the essence from the Shadowmint Leaves, pressing them carefully to collect the potent liquid before dripping it into the furnace at calculated intervals. A soft hiss accompanied each addition, the vapor swirling upward and merging with the growing medicinal energy inside.

Each ingredient had its designated time for introduction. The softened Crimson Flame Resin required quick placement to prevent overheating, while the grated Silver Lotus Seeds were added gradually, allowing their potency to blend smoothly. The Condensed Starflower Petals were the final step, their delicate energy stabilizing the entire mixture.

As the refinement process progressed, I noticed something immediately-the control over my Qi had improved significantly. Despite this being my first attempt at the Qi Condensation Pill, I found it unexpectedly easy to regulate the flames and integrate the ingredients. However, I pushed the thought aside for now, focusing solely on the task at hand.

The energy in the furnace pulsed rhythmically, indicating that the mixture was nearing completion. Placing both hands on the furnace, I infused a steady stream of Qi, guiding the process as the ingredients condensed into pill form. The glow from within the furnace intensified briefly before settling into a steady radiance.

Moments later, the reaction ceased. The flames receded, and I extinguished them entirely with a controlled breath. I lifted the lid of the furnace carefully, revealing a batch of freshly refined Qi Condensation Pills. Their surfaces were smooth, their structure intact. Placing one onto the impurity measuring device, I watched as the reading settled at 81%-a low-grade pill, just barely missing out on mid-grade.

The Qi Condensation Pill was leagues more complex than anything I had previously refined, yet I had succeeded on my first attempt. And even a low-grade Qi Condensation Pill was valued at the same price as a mid-grade Qi Replenishing Pill due to its effectiveness.

I still had enough materials for four more batches. Now, I returned to my earlier observation-alchemy felt much easier. My breakthrough to the third stage of Qi Condensation, combined with my impurity-free body, had significantly improved my Qi control. Additionally, my training in precise Qi manipulation for combat had strengthened my ability to regulate the refinement process. My Qi pool, while still limited compared to higher-realm cultivators, was now large enough to sustain continuous refinement without immediate exhaustion.

Deciding not to waste time, I proceeded with the second batch. This time, my movements were more fluid, and each step was executed with greater confidence. The result was an impurity level of 77%-a marked improvement over the first batch.

The third batch followed soon after, reaching 75% impurity. I was making rapid progress, refining pills of increasingly higher quality with each attempt. Taking a brief pause, I consumed a Qi Replenishing Pill to restore my energy before moving on to the final two batches.

With renewed focus, I refined the fourth batch, my control now seamless. The impurity level measured at 72%. Encouraged by this steady improvement, I began the final batch, adjusting my flame control and Qi infusion with even greater precision. When I checked the results, the reading displayed 69%.

I exhaled slowly, satisfaction settling in. If a senior alchemist had witnessed this scene, they would have been dumbfounded. A thirteen-year-old refining Qi Condensation Pills flawlessly, batch after batch, with zero failures-such a feat was unprecedented. And after the initial attempt, all pills were of mid-grade.

With this level of skill, I could confidently undergo the examination for Apprentice Alchemist and pass with ease. But I had no reason to do so, it would hinder my humble business at the moment. Once I enter the inner court I will have no reason to hide anymore. Then I can undergo the examination. Besides an inner court disciple reaching Apprentice Alchemist isn't an unaccomplished feat. Bai Yun was the best example.

Suppressing the urge to consume the pills immediately and immerse myself in cultivation, I instead turned my focus to cleaning the refinement room. The lingering scent of heated herbs and faint traces of residual Qi clung to the air, but with careful sweeping and wiping, I left the space as pristine as when I entered. Once satisfied, I gathered my belongings, secured the pouch containing the freshly refined pills, and stepped out into the corridor.

The dimly lit halls of the Alchemy Department were quieter at this hour, the usual bustle of disciples refining pills or studying manuals having thinned out. My footsteps were steady as I made my way back toward the reception, where Li Xue was once again stationed behind the desk. She had returned to her journal, flipping through its pages with focus, but the moment she sensed my presence, her eyes snapped up.

Her gaze lingered on me for a second longer than usual, sharp with curiosity. She wasn't very skilled at concealing her thoughts-her expression made it clear that she was itching to ask something. Still, she waited, as if expecting me to volunteer information. When I merely placed the key to the refinement room onto the desk without a word, she grunted, clicking her tongue in mild irritation before speaking.

"How did it go?" she asked, her tone laced with feigned nonchalance.

I met her gaze evenly. "It went well," I replied, my voice as measured as ever.

She frowned slightly at my lack of elaboration. "That's all? Just 'it went well'? What did you even refine?"

I resisted the urge to sigh, though I allowed a soft exhale to escape unnoticed. Realizing she wouldn't let the topic drop, I reached into my storage bag and retrieved a random Qi Replenishing Pill, one of my older refinements. It wasn't anything special-just a low-grade pill with an impurity level of exactly 80%. I had refined far better ones since then, but I saw no need to show her my most recent work.

Li Xue took the pill from my outstretched hand, turning it over between her fingers. Her initially skeptical expression shifted to one of mild surprise as she examined its smooth surface and the faint gleam that distinguished it from ordinary low-grade pills.

"This looks... way too clean," she murmured, narrowing her eyes. "What's the impurity level?"

"80%," I stated calmly.

Her fingers tightened around the pill slightly. "Wh-what?" she stammered, her demeanor slipping. "80%?! That's just short of mid-grade!"

I remained silent, simply watching her reaction.

She stared at the pill again, then at me, as if trying to reconcile the information. "Wait-hold on," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Novice Alchemists barely manage to refine Qi Replenishing Pills with impurities below 90%, even after months of practice. You're younger than me, you should only have been here for a year, right?"

I gave a slight nod, confirming her suspicion without elaborating. I didn't want to correct her, that it had been only two months since my arrival here in the monastery.

Her lips parted as if to say something, then closed again as she seemed to reconsider. Finally, she leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "You're a monster," she muttered, more to herself than to me.

I didn't respond.

A few beats of silence passed before she let out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing her temple. "Fine, whatever," she mumbled. "You don't want to talk about it, I get it. But if you start refining mid-grade pills consistently, don't expect me not to notice."

She flicked the pill back toward me with a deft motion. I caught it effortlessly and stored it away before giving her a short nod. Without another word, I turned and left the reception area, stepping back into the open sect grounds.

The night was calm unlike Li Xue, the air cool against my skin. The weight of my storage bag was reassuring at my side, heavy with the pills I had refined.

I made my way across the moonlit sect grounds toward the mission hall, its tall, lantern-lit entrance guiding me like a beacon. Despite the quiet hour, a few disciples milled about in the courtyard, some returning from errands, others heading out on tasks.

The moment I stepped inside, the attendant recognized me and approached with a respectful nod. "The private room is prepared," he said, leading me down a side corridor. We came to a small chamber fitted with a low table at the center, surrounded by simple wooden chairs. A pot of Chinese tea sat on the table, accompanied by an assortment of snacks-steamed buns, crisp vegetables, and a small dish of roasted seeds. The attendant bowed slightly, then departed, leaving me to wait.

I settled onto a cushion, letting the hush of the room envelop me. The space was designed for discreet discussions, its walls lined with subtle, half-hidden runes to guarantee privacy. My eyes flicked to the steaming teapot, noting the aromatic swirl rising from its spout.

I reached for the pot next to it filled with hot water with a steady hand, pouring the liquid into a small porcelain cup. With measured movements, I rinsed the cup, letting the liquid cleanse the porcelain before discarding it into the waste bowls.

Steam curled upwards as I refilled the cup, this time with tea. Lifting the cup, I inhaled the aroma which was subtle yet rich, carrying hints of roasted leaves and a faint floral undertone, before taking a sip.

The candle flames flickered gently against the runed walls, casting elongated shadows that wavered with the faintest shift in air. The silence within the chamber felt almost meditative, a momentary pause amidst the perpetual motion of my plans.

Within minutes, I heard faint footsteps in the corridor. All four cultivators arrived simultaneously, filing into the room with varying levels of curiosity. Lin Mei was among them-the youngest aside from me, probably fifteen or sixteen, wearing plain sect robes and carrying a small bag of her refining tools. We'd crossed paths before, though not under my true identity. The other three were visibly older, ranging from perhaps seventeen to twenty. Two of them were male, the third a tall young woman with a pragmatic air about her. They took in my presence with quick, sweeping glances, each reacting differently.

Lin Mei froze for a heartbeat, recognition dawning in her eyes. She looked at my bandaged forearms, then my face, her gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and wonder. The other three cultivators, however, stared more openly. The initial moment of surprise turned into disbelief. It was expected-few outer sect disciples, let alone someone my age, possessed the means or influence to commission such a mission.

One of the men, a sharp-eyed cultivator with a solid frame and the beginnings of a goatee, voiced the question lingering in all their minds.

"A... kid?" he asked, his tone tinged with doubt. His eyes flicked over my robes, noting the black flame insignia that marked me as a Novice Alchemist.

I made no outward show of annoyance. His skepticism was reasonable. "Sit, please," I said calmly. "We'll talk business soon. But first, I require a small formality."

They exchanged uncertain glances, then settled around the table. Lin Mei sat to my left, her gaze still pinning me with silent questions. I reached into my robe, withdrawing a set of jade slips carefully inscribed with non-disclosure clauses. "I'd like you to sign these," I continued, my voice unwavering. "Before we discuss the details of this project, I need your confidentiality guaranteed."

The three older cultivators bristled visibly. The other male cultivator scowled, crossing his arms. "Is this really necessary?" he muttered, eyeing me with half-lidded skepticism. The female disciple frowned and looked like she might stand up and leave. Only Lin Mei looked unperturbed, though her fingers tapped anxiously on the table.

I returned their gazes with calm indifference. "It is," I replied. "If you prefer not to sign, you're free to go. But you won't learn anything about this mission."

For a tense moment, the three older disciples appeared ready to walk. Then, something in my demeanor swayed them. Reluctantly, each took up a jade slip and pressed a droplet of Qi signature onto it, finalizing the non-disclosure agreement. Lin Mei did the same without hesitation, her face guarded yet curious.

After signing, the first of the older cultivators, the man sporting a goatee, introduced himself as Zhang Rui. He looked to be in his early twenties, his voice resonating with a low but measured confidence. To his right sat the female cultivator with sharp features, Guo Xiulan. Her hair reached her shoulders and she seemed to size me up with every glance. The last of the older disciples was called Han Qiang, a tall disciple with a slight stoop to his shoulders, giving the impression that he spent more time hunched over scripture or refining tasks than fighting. All three bore the markings of outer sect disciples on the edge of higher ranking or specialization. At last, Lin Mei also introduced herself, though I already knew about her.

"Well then," Zhang Rui said as he set the slip aside. "If that's handled, can we at least hear who you are and what you want us to do?"

"I am Ayanokoji Kiyotaka," I answered. "A novice alchemist, but I require assistance in processing certain resources. Before we go into details, allow me to clarify something regarding my capabilities."

I reached into my storage bag, retrieving a small jade bottle. Uncorking it, I tipped a single Qi Condensation Pill-the one with a 69% impurity-into my palm. The pill bore a faintly lustrous sheen, far above what most novices could produce. Immediately, a collective surge of shock rippled around the table.

"Is that a..." Guo Xiulan began, her eyes wide. "A Qi Condensation Pill?!" Her voice wavered, uncharacteristically high-pitched.

I nodded. "Yes. Mid-grade, with an impurity rate of 69%."

Their astonishment was almost palpable. Even Lin Mei stared, as though reevaluating everything she knew about me. Qi Condensation Pills were notoriously difficult, something that even many Apprentice Alchemists struggled to refine at mid-grade. That I-who looked barely thirteen or fourteen-had created it defied normal logic.

Han Qiang's mouth hung open for a moment before he collected himself. "How-where did..." He trailed off, uncertain how to phrase the question.

"You made that?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

Guo Xiulan shook her head in disbelief. "Then why aren't you taking the exam to become an Apprentice Alchemist?" she asked. "You could pass instantly with that skill."

"The reason is the same as why I insisted on the non-disclosure agreement," I replied flatly, returning the pill to its jade bottle. "I have no desire for undue attention or sect politics. For now, being a Novice Alchemist suits me."

They exchanged glances, but none voiced any further objections. The implications were clear-I was a cultivator with resources, skill, and the ability to pay well. Whatever initial doubts they had about my legitimacy were rapidly dissolving.

The tea on the table grew cold, untouched amid their shock. Even so, curiosity and respect were evident in their eyes. They saw me not just as a "kid" but as someone whose alchemical skill surpassed typical novices by a large margin-someone capable of paying well for their refining services and clearly wealthy enough to host a mission.

Lin Mei, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "I see... so that's how it is." Her voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. A trace of understanding flickered in her gaze-she had likely connected the dots and realized that I was the one behind the secret instructions she had received before.

I acknowledged her words with a small nod but offered no further elaboration. "If you are still interested," I said, shifting the conversation back to business, "I require assistance with processing raw materials. Payment will be negotiated based on complexity. The key point remains confidentiality."

Zhang Rui crossed his arms, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the situation, but nodded. "Fine. What kind of materials are we talking about?"

"Herbs and alchemical ingredients, primarily," I answered. "They need to be handled with precision before refinement, and I lack the time to do all of it personally."

Guo Xiulan frowned slightly. "So, you'll be handling the final alchemy yourself?"

"Yes. Your job will be limited to ingredient preparation. The work is straightforward, but I require consistency and skill."

Lin Mei spoke up again, this time more certain. "You're hiring people like us so you can increase production without spreading yourself too thin."

"Correct," I affirmed.

I gestured to the stack of documents on the table. "We can go through each raw material in detail, scheduling who does which stage of refinement. Let's begin."

Thus, the meeting continued. Their confusion melted into focus on the practicalities of the job. They asked about processing times, required tools, and additional pay for rare tasks. I answered succinctly. Despite my young appearance, the mid-grade Qi Condensation Pill had spoken loudly enough on my behalf. The more they heard, the more serious they became, realizing the potential windfall if they proved reliable.

When the negotiations drew to a close, each disciple signed the contract's final line. We set a timeline to meet again once a month. I collected the documents, tucked them into my bag, and then stood up. Bowing briefly, they excused themselves, each wearing a new sense of purpose. Only Lin Mei lingered a second longer, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again-finally departing without a word.

I watched them go, ignoring the faint ache that flared across my side once more. The meeting was a success. My ability, though partially revealed, remained cloaked behind a veil of half-truths and non-disclosure clauses. None could safely whisper about my advanced alchemy without risking severe sect penalties.

Stepping out of the mission hall, I found the night cool and quiet. The moon hung low, draping the courtyard in gentle silver. The weight of my storage bag felt comforting against my hip, the newly refined Qi Condensation Pills nestled inside. At last, I could seek my quarters and truly rest.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

I reached my quarters shortly after leaving the mission hall. Sliding it open, I slipped inside, locking out the night's chill. My storage bag thumped against my hip. With a measured breath, I shrugged off my robe, folds of cloth falling around my feet. The lingering aches from the evening's exertions called for rest, but I had one last task to see through before sleep claimed me.

Cross-legged on my mat, I set out several small containers-each one filled with Qi Condensation Pills of varying impurity levels, fruit of my day's alchemical efforts. My bandaged arms performed the motions without hesitation, signifying that, while battered, I remained poised to cultivate. Extracting the only one of the lower-grade pills, I popped it into my mouth.

Almost instantly, an eruption of energy spread through my body, more concentrated than anything I'd experienced in previous stages. My eyes drifted shut as I guided the fierce flow of power into my dantian, regulating each current with careful breath. The meridians in my arms, torso, and legs glowed with invigorated warmth, every swirl of energy traveling without obstruction. Though the pill was low-grade, it greatly surpassed simpler Qi Replenishing formulas. A lesser cultivator, or my past self at the second stage, might have needed two hours to absorb its potency. But my near-pure meridians allowed me to channel the pill's might in mere minutes. With the Umbral Absorption Technique, the entire pill's essence dissolved into my Qi pool in fifteen minutes, leaving me with a comfortable hum of power thrumming in my veins.

A faint, earthy odor reached my nose. Glancing down, I saw faint traces of impurities forced out of my pores-dark flecks of dirt and peeled skin matted against my bandages. Now the last scraps of impurity had been expunged and I now had a body with zero impurities. Exhaling, I shook off the dried debris, not letting the minor mess distract me from my progress.

Deciding to push further, I selected a mid-grade Qi Condensation Pill next, curiosity stirring about how its more potent energy would compare. Dropping it onto my tongue, I felt a rush of heat ripple through my meridians in an instant. The difference was stark: a single rank in pill quality, yet it felt like an entirely separate beast. My Qi pool surged with each pulse, the denser potency requiring more diligent control. Even so, the synergy in my body accepted it readily. Despite its doubled force, I still required only about twenty minutes to fully absorb the pill's essence-a testament to how free-flowing my meridians were now that impurities no longer clogged them.

I continued at a steady pace, pill after pill, each wave of Qi briefer yet more intense than the last. My battered form drank in this energy, healing minor bruises and wounds while simultaneously expanding my dantian's capacity. Hours blurred together in focused meditation, the hush of my quarters broken only by the soft sound of pills shifting in their jars.

Each pill I consumed nourished my Qi pool, steadily pushing me toward that elusive boundary between the third and fourth stages of Qi Condensation. Sweat mingled with the remnants of impurities on my skin, but my mind remained calm.

By the time I consumed the last pill from my containers, my meridians thrummed with raw potential. I sensed the near approach of a barrier, that vague presence an intangible dam standing between me and the next realm. My dantian pulsed in anticipation, craving just a bit more to breach the threshold.

I lifted my gaze from the scattered empty containers. Only five more Qi Condensation Pills of comparable quality, and I could break through into the fourth stage. This rate of progression was nothing short of absurd.

For a while, I simply sat, letting the Qi settle in a final circulation. My injuries, while not magically cured, felt far less draining. Tomorrow I will break through to the fourth stage but for now, I will rest.

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By midday the next day, my alchemical tasks were already in motion, setting the tone for another busy day. After a short morning rest, I'd taken on the Alchemy Department's refining stations again, just as I had the previous day. Most of my time was spent re-creating Qi Condensation Pills-half a dozen batches in all, each yielding mid-grade pills. What might have been tedious or strenuous alchemical chores became almost second nature, allowing me to guide the flames, ingredients, and spiritual essence with minimal strain. By late afternoon, my stock of Qi Condensation Pills had multiplied impressively, filling multiple jade bottles.

While working, I also fielded deliveries from the four cultivators I'd hired for preliminary processing tasks. They dropped off partial raw materials-herbs, powders, and catalytic elements-which I swiftly turned into Qi Replenishing Pills and a few jars of salves. This was relatively simpler than the intricate Qi Condensation Pill formula, so I breezed through the steps. My focus was direct and efficient: weigh the materials, confirm their readiness, then merge them in the furnace using the same synergy that had proven so effective. By early evening, I'd produced enough mid-grade Qi Replenishing stock to keep me afloat for future barters, not to mention the next time I met Shen Rong for exchanges.

Come evening, satisfied with the day's results, I returned to my quarters. The sun dipped behind the distant peaks, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples, and a hush settled over the sect grounds. Once inside, I locked the door, set my newly concocted pills aside, and took a moment to breathe. My injuries from the Silent Arena were healing steadily, helped along by the mild analgesic salves I'd crafted earlier. Though an ache still gnawed at my side when I moved too fast, it was nothing I couldn't handle. I placed a small lamp on the floor, allowing its soft glow to illuminate my mat and the modest space around me.

I settled cross-legged, pulling several jade bottles in front of me-Qi Condensation Pills of varying impurity, the fruits of countless hours standing at the furnace. If my calculations were correct, taking a few more pills at this moment might tip me over the brink from Qi Condensation Stage 3 into the fourth stage, often called the Purification Realm. With that advancement, my Qi pool would expand dramatically and my overall power would again increase.

Choosing one of the mid-grade pills, I popped it into my mouth. The energy erupted, a dense, almost tangible rush that I quickly funneled into my meridians. Emboldened, I took a second pill, then a third-each wave pushing me closer to that intangible wall separating the third and fourth stages. My limbs quivered under the pressure, but my mind remained steady, forging the siphoned energy into my dantian. The hush of the night deepened around me, accentuating every pulse of Qi. Slowly, the swirling vortex in my dantian intensified, gorging on the pills' potency at a pace that would seem impossible to a typical third-stage cultivator. Had I not possessed near-pure meridians, these pills alone would've demanded hours to ingest, likely leaving me exhausted mid-way.

I sensed my meridians stretching to accommodate the surging Qi, a clear sign that the fourth stage was within reach. My chest tightened as the boundary loomed. Another pill dissolved across my tongue, its vigorous energies thudding into my system. My dantian flared for a heartbeat, then abruptly everything snapped into place: the barrier fractured with an inward rush, flooding me in a wave of exhilarating clarity. I gasped, though no outward cry escaped me; all my senses zeroed in on the new depth of Qi swirling in my core.

It was done: I had advanced to Qi Condensation Stage 4-Purification Realm. My entire being hummed with energy, meridians feeling more elastic and robust than ever. For a moment, I simply reveled in the sensation. Normally cultivators need a much longer time to break through from the third to the fourth stage but as I didn't need to remove the impurities in my body, I could solely concentrate on Qi absorption which allowed me to progress with an inhuman speed.

I have now officially reached the unofficial mid-stage of Qi Condensation. While there were official distinctions like lower stage, mid-stage, and late-stage in future cultivation realms like the Foundation Establishment Realm, there was no official one in the Qi Condensation Realm, the beginning of cultivation.

Still, cultivators in the first three stages are known as lower-staged cultivators. Cultivators who are in the ranks between the fourth and sixth stage are referred to as mid-staged cultivators while those who are at the seventh and eight stage are referred as late late-staged cultivators with the eight stage being the peak of Qi Condensation. And now as a fourth stage cultivator, I have reached the mid-stage.

Lifting my eyes to the lamp's gentle glow, I allowed myself a measured exhale. Each beat of my heart sent fresh Qi coursing, as though confirming my new realm. This acceleration in progress was anything but normal, but I offered no outward sigh of relief or amazement. Rather, I accepted it with the same calm that had guided me thus far. Slowly, I rose, rolling my shoulders to test my newly bolstered Qi reserves, and found them stable, the aches in my body now away.

It seems that the breakthrough healed my wounds. I thought to myself, removing my bandages and seeing clean skin without any blemishes underneath.

With that final thought, I lay down, my mind drifting into sleep.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Stepping into the Alchemy Department once more, I noted how the morning rush had ebbed. Rows of disciples crowded around supply shelves, but the hum of voices was notably subdued compared to the prior day.

Navigating the now-familiar corridors, I reached the front reception area to find Li Xue perched behind her desk, flipping through the same journal she'd been reading previously. The moment I approached, she looked up-and froze. A tiny furrow creased her brow, as though she was trying to pinpoint what, exactly, was different.

Her voice carried a note of sharp curiosity. "You again, huh? You look... I don't know. Stronger." She tapped the journal's edge with a fingertip. "Something happened, didn't it?"

"Nothing happened," I replied simply, not bothering to elaborate further. If she sensed my realm's advancement, I had no intention of confirming it.

Li Xue's eyes narrowed, scanning my posture, my aura. She exhaled in mild exasperation, clearly unconvinced. "Alright, if you say so," she muttered. "Need a room for your precious pill refining, I assume?"

I nodded. "Yes."

She checked her ledger, pen gliding over columns, then waved me closer. "We have a mid-tier station available today-should suffice for your needs. The fee is the same as before." Another tap of her pen against the desk, and she seemed to remember something. "Actually, wait."

I paused, expecting some bureaucratic detail about the station's schedule. Instead, her expression shifted, a glimmer in her eyes as she snapped the ledger closed. She opened the journal on her lap, turning pages quickly until her gaze landed on a scribbled note.

"A mission came through," she said, words slow and deliberate, as if weighing each syllable. "It's... somewhat unusual. The sect is gathering disciples from the medicine and alchemy departments-likely to accompany the main squad on an external assignment. Could be a chance to test your... skills." She glanced up. "Interested?"

I felt a subtle pull of surprise. An external mission? Usually, the sect relied on more senior alchemists or specialized herbalists for expeditions. Regardless, Li Xue clearly wanted an immediate reaction. Her eyes, alive with curiosity, bored into me. But I kept my composure, brow barely lifting in a sign of mild interest.

"Why?" I asked, my voice calm.

She shrugged, but her smirk deepened. "No idea. Whatever it is, it's big enough for them to ask me to keep an eye out for potential candidates." She flicked the journal shut again. "But it's your call. Do you want to know more, or-?"

"Thank you for the offer," I said, voice kept neutral.

Li Xue's lips formed a tight line, as if waiting for more of an explanation-but I offered none. Instead, I dropped a nod, indicating I'd heard her out. Her expression implied she wasn't finished, though, and in the dim light of the reception hall, I could sense the air thickening with unspoken questions.

"Let me know if you're in," she said finally. "I'm keeping a short list. They need staff. Your name came up." She pursed her lips. "I was asked to pass the info along, see if you'd be interested."

I looked at her, weighing the possibilities. Surely it could be an opportunity to hone my practical skills, and maybe gather resources or knowledge I wouldn't find within the sect walls. But it could also be a trap, an entanglement in sect politics I'd tried to avoid.

"Sigh. Give me the details," I said at length.

A slight smile curved on her lips. She tapped her journal with a fingertip, as though ready to read from a hidden page of information. "Alright, well-let me start at the beginning."

And just as she opened her mouth to explain, a voice from deeper in the hall called her name. Li Xue shot me a look, half-apologetic and half-impatient. She tilted her head toward a side door. "Come on," she said under her breath. "We'll talk in private."

I followed her toward the dim corridor, each footstep echoing against the polished floor. If this mission was as serious as her tone suggested, it could reshape some of my plans entirely. Right as we reached a small alcove out of earshot, Li Xue lowered her voice further.

She parted her lips to speak-

-and the day's chatter abruptly swelled around us, an alchemist's voice calling out from behind. I couldn't make out what they wanted, but Li Xue glanced back, then back to me, her expression tense. "Hold on," she muttered. "Just... wait here."

Then, without another moment, she slipped away, leaving me in the half-lit nook, the faint hum of the Alchemy Department pressing in. My mind buzzed with questions: What exactly was this mission? Why had they taken an interest in a mere novice like me?

A quiet exhale escaped my lips. This might be a chance for growth-and a risk I couldn't fully gauge yet. Regardless, I'd agreed to listen, so I will continue to wait.

"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."

The words came from nowhere-calm, deliberate, carrying an eerie weight. My gaze flicked up instantly, scanning the dim corridor. I felt no presence, no shift in Qi, yet someone had spoken my name. Cold, calculating, and precise.

"Enter."

The command came with quiet finality after a short silence, smooth, and unwavering. A door to my right creaked open, spilling a narrow stream of golden light into the dim corridor. The room beyond was obscured, its interior bathed in soft illumination, revealing only the outline of a polished wooden floor and the faint scent of incense drifting outward.

I remained still for a moment, weighing my options. There was no detectable Qi fluctuation, no presence pressing against my senses-yet the voice had carried an undeniable authority, as though denying the invitation was never truly an option.

With measured steps, I crossed the threshold. The door swung shut behind me without a sound.