The day before

The night was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant chatter of late-night wanderers. The narrow street was dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns, casting long shadows that danced along the cobblestones. As people passed by a particular house, they quickened their steps, trying not to appear as though they were eavesdropping on the strange, pained moans emanating from within. The sounds were unsettling, a mix of anguish and exhaustion that made the passersby uneasy.

Two old men, one short and stout with a round belly, the other tall and wiry with a hunched posture, lingered near the house. Dressed in simple, worn clothes, they exchanged knowing glances, their curiosity piqued by the noises. With exaggerated caution, they crept closer to the window, their movements slow and deliberate, as if trying to blend into the shadows. The fat one gestured to the skinny one, urging him to take the lead, while the skinny one rolled his eyes but complied.

They pressed their faces against the edge of the window frame, squinting through the grimy glass in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the source of the sounds. But the room inside was shrouded in darkness, save for a faint flicker of candlelight that revealed nothing of interest. After a moment, they pulled back, their faces etched with disappointment.

"Nothing," the fat one muttered, shaking his head. "Idiot, it is just some girl moaning. Probably sick or something. Not worth our time."

The skinny one frowned, unwilling to give up so easily. He leaned in one last time, straining his eyes, but still saw nothing. With a resigned sigh, he straightened up and shrugged. "You're right. Let's go."

The two men shuffled away, their curiosity unsatisfied, leaving the house and its mysterious occupant behind.

Inside the house, the scene was far from what the old men had imagined. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single bed, a wooden table, and a few scattered belongings. The air was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and the faint metallic tang of blood. A lone candle flickered on the table, casting a dim light that barely illuminated the figure on the bed.

Li Qingyue lay curled up on the thin mattress, her body trembling as waves of pain coursed through her. Her long, flowing black hair spilled across the pillow like a cascade of midnight, contrasting sharply with her pale, almost translucent skin. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of white-blue, like frost under moonlight, were clouded with exhaustion and pain. Dark circles beneath them spoke of countless sleepless nights, and her delicate features were drawn tight with suffering.

"Ahhh... ahhg..." she groaned softly, clutching her chest as another wave of agony washed over her. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle against the relentless pain that seemed to consume her from within. She had long since stopped crying; her tears had dried up, leaving behind only a hollow ache in her chest.

"Mother... Father..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with a sadness that had become all too familiar. "I will see you soon... I promise, just a bit more…."

Meanwhile, far from the sect, deep within the forest, Zhuan Ming stood in a small clearing, the faint glow of a furnace casting eerie shadows on the trees around him. The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs and the metallic tang of blood. The remnants of his latest prey—an outer disciple—lay lifeless nearby, their blood drained and refined into a potent elixir used for the pills. Zhuan Ming had already crafted the blood path pills, their dark crimson hue glinting ominously in the dim light of the furnace. The process had been grueling, but the result was undeniable: a set of pills that radiated a dangerous scarlet energy.

Zhuan Ming held one of the pills between his fingers, examining it closely. The surface of the pill seemed to pulse faintly, as if it were alive, and a faint, coppery scent wafted from it. He could feel the raw power contained within.

"Old man," Zhuan Ming said, addressing Qi Pill Ancestor, "this is it, isn't it?

Qi Pill Ancestor's voice echoed in his mind, dripping with dark satisfaction. "Indeed, boy. You've done well to get this far. But remember the energy will be overwhelming, and if you're not careful, it will consume you instead."

Zhuan Ming smirked, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the furnace. "I've never been one to shy," he said as he swallowed the pill. The moment it dissolved, an immense surge of power erupted within him, raw and chaotic, flooding his meridians like a raging river. His body trembled as the energy threatened to overwhelm him, but Zhuan Ming's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of calm determination. With precision born of experience, he began to cultivate, guiding the torrent of power toward the Nirvana Roots and the faintly glowing Nirvana Seed nestled near his navel. This wasn't his first time cultivating with a pill, but it was the first time the pill was of his own making, and the body he cultivated in was uniquely his.

The energy coiled around the seed, feeding it, nurturing it, as Zhuan Ming focused his mind on maintaining control. Despite his experience, the process was still excruciating, every fiber of his being burning with intensity. Yet, he welcomed the pain—it was the fire that burned away weakness, leaving only strength behind. Every moment of torment was a hammer strike, shaping him into something greater, refining his will into steel. He didn't just endure; he embraced the pain, wielding it as a tool to carve his path forward. Each drop of blood, each ounce of hardship, was a step closer to his goal. Pain wasn't his enemy—it was his teacher. Slowly, the chaotic energy began to stabilize, merging with the seed and strengthening its glow. A faint, crimson light emanated from his core, a testament to his progress.

Half-exhausted, both in body and soul, Zhuan Ming could still sense the newfound power coursing through him. It was a subtle but undeniable change, a step forward in his cultivation.

"This should be enough to participate in the exploration and ensure my safety," he thought, his mind already calculating the next steps. The path ahead was filled with danger, but Zhuan Ming was prepared to face it head-on, even welcoming the challenge if it came his way.