The Outer Sect Martial Arena was unusually packed that day. Even from a distance, the sharp clang of weapons and bursts of qi could be heard echoing through the grounds.

  Ning stood at one end of the field, a bow in his hand.

  Opposite him was Qiao Wen. Her posture was relaxed, a slender sword held loosely at her side. Her cultivation was firmly at the eighth stage of Qi Cultivation, a full three realms above Ning.

  She was a training partner Ning had found by issuing a mission. As the outer sect competition drew nearer, improving his combat ability, especially in one-on-one fights against other cultivators, had become increasingly important.

  Finding someone at the same level was no longer enough. Most disciples couldn't even handle his archery anymore. What he needed now was guidance from someone stronger.

  That was where the mission board came in. Unlike the protagonists in stories who only accepted quests, Ning made full use of the issuing function. He had posted missions seeking guidance in combat, spells, and even farming-related techniques.

  "Begin whenever you're ready," Qiao Wen said calmly.

  She looked like a frail woman at first glance, but Ning knew better than to underestimate her.

  He drew the bowstring back to full tension.

  Whoosh!

  The arrow shot forward like a streak of silver, aimed straight at her chest.

  Qiao Wen's expression didn't change. She stepped half a pace to the side and flicked her wrist, her sword intercepting the arrow.

  Clang!

  The arrow was knocked aside midair and spun uselessly into the dirt.

  Ning didn't stop. He knew that cultivators who had reached the seventh stage unlocked spiritual sense, giving them a clear perceptual advantage over those below them.

  Instead, he increased his tempo.

  Another arrow followed. Then another.

  Three arrows flew in rapid succession, each aimed at a different angle: head, shoulder, thigh.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Qiao Wen's sword traced smooth arcs through the air, deflecting every shot with minimal movement. Her feet barely shifted.

  "Your accuracy's improved," she commented casually. "But that's not enough."

  As she spoke, she suddenly surged forward, her steps blazing with qi.

  Ning reacted instantly, activating Shadow Steps to retreat a large distance in a flash. His eyes faintly glowed as he poured qi into the next arrow.

  A subtle spiral formed around the shaft as qi sharpened its edge.

  Then he released it.

  "Interesting."

  Rather than dodging, Qiao Wen leaned forward instead. As a sword cultivator, with her blade in hand, there was little she feared. Her spiritual sense flared; within five meters, she could perceive even the slightest tremor of spiritual energy.

  [Martial Art: Flowing Azure Sword Slash]

  Qi surged through her sword as she released a layered wave of sword qi that swept across both ground and air.

  The slash collided with the arrow, cleaving through it with ease. The gap in refinement between her eighth-stage qi and Ning's fifth stage was simply too great.

  The sword qi continued onward toward Ning.

  Though weakened, it was still fast. Ning was faster.

  He ducked smoothly, lowered his bow in one practiced motion, and reached behind his back to pull out a spear.

  The change was immediate.

  Qi surged through Ning's body as he stepped forward, his stance lowering instinctively. The spear steadied in his hands, its tip trembling faintly as it locked onto Qiao Wen like a compass needle.

  Qiao Wen's eyes sharpened.

  "Oh?"

  Ning didn't hesitate.

  He closed the distance in three swift steps, spear thrusting straight toward her centerline.

  [Falling Leaf Spear Technique]

  The move was simple, clean, and precise. With his proficiency already reaching penetration, Ning's fundamentals were solid. The spear carried not just force, but intent, using reach alone to dominate space.

  Clang!

  Qiao Wen blocked, her sword deliberately meeting the spear shaft rather than the tip. The vibration traveled through her arm, lifting her brows slightly.

  "So you're using reach to control distance," she remarked calmly. "Not bad."

  Ning pressed on.

  The spear swept outward in a wide arc to deny her approach, then snapped back in a sudden thrust. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, forcing Qiao Wen to adjust her footing.

  For a moment, she gave ground.

  Then, her sword flickered.

  With a subtle twist of her wrist, she slid along the spear shaft, catching the instant Ning shifted his grip. A sharp clang rang out as the weapon was knocked aside.

  The spear flew from Ning's hands and embedded itself several steps away.

  Qiao Wen stood there, sword lowered, expression composed.

  "Good control," she said. "But against someone who understands weapons, reach alone isn't enough."

  Ning exhaled slowly and flexed his fingers.

  "That's enough for close combat," she added.

  Ning gave a wry smile. "I lost."

  Though he hadn't expected to win, it still didn't feel good to lose.

  Qiao Wen stopped a few steps away. "Still, you've improved. A lot. At the very least, you can now switch weapons smoothly without losing momentum."

  "It's thanks to your guidance, Senior Sister," Ning replied.

  She glanced at the spear embedded in the ground, then back at him.

  "Even so," she said calmly, "with your current level, you should place well in the outer sect competition."

  Ning paused. "You think so?"

  “This year’s competition is special,” Qiao Wen said. “Only newcomers from this batch are allowed to participate.”

  Ning nodded.

  Normally, outer sect competitions were a mix of veterans and new blood. Even talented disciples were often crushed by those who had lingered in the sect for years. This time, however, only those who entered together were eligible, a special rule said to have been enforced by a Purple Mansion elder to encourage new talent.

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  This was why Ning couldn’t spar with Zhang Feng, his usual sparring partner. Most clan disciples had already returned to their families. With only a year left, they were using every resource available to push their cultivation further.

  “That also means the competition won’t be easy,” Ning said calmly. "What do you think about the reward, senior sister?"

  This time, it was announced that the top three were allowed to choose a mentor from a list of specific fields.

  This announcement led to quite a frenzy among the outer sect disciples.

  This question made Qiao Wen pause to think for a moment.

  “In normal circumstances,” she spoke, “even if you encounter a senior willing to guide you, everything depends on fate, timing, temperament, and opportunity. Nothing is guaranteed.”

  “But this time,” she said, her tone steady, “the sect itself is offering the chance.”

  A guaranteed choice.

  Alchemy. Formations. Weapon arts. Body refinement. Specialized techniques.

  No wonder everyone was desperate.

  Qiao Wen studied him for a moment. “That’s also why I want to ask, have you joined any faction?”

  “No.” Ning shook his head.

  Factions, clubs, or associations were gatherings of outer sect disciples on the surface. In reality, most were backed by inner sect or even core disciples, quietly extending their influence downward.

  With the possibility of early entry into the inner sect, many factions had become unusually active. Anyone with visible potential was being approached.

  Qiao Wen smiled faintly. “Anyone promising is getting contacted.”

  She tilted her head. “Including you.”

  “I see,” Ning replied calmly.

  Joining a faction meant resources and connections, but also obligations. Once involved, one’s actions were no longer entirely one’s own. Ning wasn’t eager to tie himself down before his path was clear.

  “I’ve joined one myself,” Qiao Wen continued. “We share resources and train together. If you want, I can put in a word for you.”

  The offer was sincere.

  Ning paused briefly, then smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

  It wasn't a refusal, but it wasn't acceptance either.

  Qiao Wen nodded. "Fair enough."

  Then she changed the subject. "Your close-range combat is solid, and your reaction speed has improved. But against cultivators above your level, single-target techniques will eventually fall short."

  She sheathed her sword.

  "You need a wide-range spell, something to control space, or at least force your opponent to respond."

  Ning nodded, committing the advice to memory.

  Qiao Wen then launched into what could only be described as a sales pitch.

  "That's why, Junior Brother," she said earnestly, "how about I show you where to buy a wide-range spell? Something like Fireball or Wind Blade. I only need a tiny commission, and I know the perfect place to get them cheap."

  Ning watched her silently. The aloof sword cultivator from moments ago was nowhere to be seen.

  If Qiao Wen knew what Ning was thinking, she would surely say that being a sword cultivator was cool, but the cost was equally terrifying. Swords required constant maintenance, and to properly nurture sword qi, the blade had to be kept in a sword coffin soaked in liquid rich with metallic essence.

  "I'll consider your offer, Senior Sister," Ning replied, deflecting awkwardly.

  Still, he kept the suggestion in mind. As someone with limited experience fighting other cultivators, it was only sensible to accept guidance and gradually fill in his shortcomings.

  Unless one was born a prodigy, such skills were never mastered overnight. They required time, accumulation, and patience.

  ...

  Ning returned to his field as the sun dipped lower, its light casting long shadows across the orderly rows of spirit plants. The familiar scent of damp earth mixed with faint spiritual energy put him at ease almost immediately.

  He stood still for a moment, then raised his hand.

  [Small Cloud Rain Technique (Mastery)]

  A thin veil of moisture gathered above the field, mist condensing into drifting clouds no larger than a cart. With a single thought, Ning guided them. The clouds moved exactly as he wished, his spiritual energy conserved to the utmost.

  After four years, Ning had finally mastered his first spell.

  Mastery was more than simply being able to cast a technique. It meant freedom, freedom to adjust its strength, form, range, and intent without rigid incantations or excessive consumption. The spell responded as naturally as a limb, flowing from thought to reality without resistance.

  "Every time I use this spell, I gain new insights," Ning muttered as he jotted down his observations.

  It was said that mastering spells and martial techniques to their peak strengthened one's foundation. That foundation came from deepening one's understanding of the Five Elements, or of blood and qi.

  Among the Five Elements, water symbolized flow, change, purification, and nourishment. It yielded without weakness, adapted without losing itself, and sustained life while wearing down stone.

  Of course, this was Ning's own interpretation. Still, he could clearly feel that mastering more techniques accelerated his already rapid learning speed.

  "Working day and night on this spell was worth it," Ning said with a faint smile. With the recoverable spirit stone, he had been able to practice far more freely than before.

  He slowly raised his hand again.

  The rain changed.

  The fine drizzle began to condense, each droplet growing heavier and denser, infused with greater spiritual weight. The clouds above shrank as their contents were compressed further and further.

  Soon, the rain no longer felt light. Each droplet struck the ground with a soft yet solid tap, carrying concentrated spiritual essence within.

  Ning's eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering.

  These were no longer ordinary raindrops. They were spiritually condensed heavy rain droplets, not as potent as rare spiritual liquids, but still useful.

  This was the solution he had been searching for.

  Among the myriad spiritual liquids required to nourish Pure Eyes, nearly all were expensive, rare, or difficult to obtain. With his recent increase in expenses, cultivation pills especially, continuing down that path would quickly drain his resources.

  So Ning had devised this method. At its core, spiritual liquids were simply condensed spiritual energy. The rain produced by the Small Cloud Rain Technique was likewise a condensed form of spiritual energy, formed through a spell and reinforced by a formation.

  In theory, it should work.

  Ning guided a few droplets toward himself and carefully applied them to his eyes, circulating qi gently to absorb their essence.

  A faint cooling sensation spread.

  [Pure Eyes Technique: Not Started]

  Ning exhaled slowly.

  Although the panel remained unchanged, he could clearly feel it. If he continued like this, it wouldn't be long before he crossed the threshold and officially began cultivating Pure Eyes.

  After finishing his daily eye nourishment, Ning finally sat down inside his hut, the gentle patter of rain fading behind him.

  After sparring with such an experienced senior, Ning finally understood something he had only vaguely grasped before.

  At higher stages, it wasn't just that a cultivator's qi lasted longer, the quality of their qi was fundamentally different. The same technique, when used by a fifth-stage cultivator and an eighth-stage cultivator, produced completely different results. This disparity came from the refinement of spiritual energy itself, which naturally improved alongside one's cultivation realm.

  "To get a decent ranking, I must reach at least the sixth stage of Qi Condensation," Ning muttered, narrowing his eyes.

  Especially with the recent excitement surrounding the newcomers, everyone would be pushing their cultivation forward at an accelerated pace.

  His own cultivation was still only halfway through the sixth stage, and that was with the aid of pills. If he wanted to advance further, he had only one reliable method left to speed things up.

  Ning opened his notes.

  Thin bamboo slips and worn paper lay spread out before him, densely packed with annotations, meridian diagrams, arrows marking qi flow, and countless small corrections layered atop one another. None of this had been copied from the Scripture Pavilion. Every line was the result of years of trial, error, and careful observation.

  At its core, the Pure Qi Sutra revolved around a single principle: purification through pressure.

  Whether through continuous compression or repeated clashing of qi currents, the goal was the same, to strip away impurities, force refinement, and leave behind only the most stable essence. It wasn't a technique that granted explosive breakthroughs, but one that demanded patience and endurance.

  Ning closed the notes.

  After four years of grinding, the accumulation was finally complete.

  He removed his outer garments, leaving only simple underclothes, sat upright, and cleared his mind. Then he began circulating his qi according to the second-floor pathway of the sutra. The familiar rhythm settled in, steady, controlled, without haste.

  399.1.

  A subtle tightening formed within his meridians.

  399.2.

  The qi grew denser and smoother, as though countless fine grains were being pressed into a single stream.

  399.5… 399.8…

  Ning maintained perfect control, neither accelerating nor resisting the flow.

  399.9.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Then,

  400.

  In that instant, something shifted.

  There was no explosion of power, no violent surge of energy. Instead, it felt as though the very foundation beneath him had been quietly reinforced. The qi within his body did not increase in quantity, yet its presence became unmistakably heavier, more cohesive, more obedient.

  The circulation paths stabilized.

  Impurities that had lingered along the edges of his meridians were gently pushed aside, dissolving into nothingness.

  Ning opened his eyes.

  While his cultivation realm hadn't changed, his foundation had been elevated to a new level. Every strand of qi now carried greater purity, and each circulation cycle required slightly less effort than before.

  This was the kind of progress that made the next breakthrough inevitable, the very foundation for improvement.

  "So these are the fabled impurities, huh?" Ning murmured, looking down at the sticky black substance expelled from his body.

  Having reached the final floor of the Pure Qi Sutra, he was undergoing the marrow-washing effect of the technique, the process of expelling impurities from the body.

  Ning had encountered this concept in countless cultivation novels; he was no stranger to it. Protagonists were practically guaranteed to spew out foul-smelling sludge at least once in their lives.

  Of course, those protagonists usually suffered through it, relying on brute force, external help, or reckless breakthroughs without preparation. They tended to be… crude.

  By contrast, Ning felt only comfort.

  It was as though a burden he hadn't even realized he carried had been lifted. The sensation was clean, light, and deeply satisfying.

  It felt… good.

  The pills he normally consumed weren't flawless or star-patterned; they naturally contained their share of impurities. Ordinarily, such residues could only be removed with external aids like cleansing pills. Reaching the final stage of the Pure Qi Sutra, however, achieved a similar result.

  Ning let out a relieved sigh and stepped into a prepared bath filled with Evermorning Dew, a liquid commonly used to cleanse the body and remove lingering odors.

  "With this level completed," Ning murmured as he settled in, "I'm a bit more confident about reaching the sixth stage of Qi Condensation."

  ...

  Thanks for reading~