The room was quiet once more, but Feiyin’s breath didn’t settle this time. His heartbeat was steady, yet a tension hummed beneath his skin—not from exhaustion, but from awareness.

  That pulse.

  It hadn't been a mistake.

  Feiyin sat back down on the warm stone floor, spine upright, hands resting gently atop his knees. Bai Yu lay near the far wall, her head resting on her coils, her tongue flicking every so often. She, too, felt something different.

  He closed his eyes and followed the sensation again.

  Upward. Inward. Toward the meeting point of the final meridians—where the Governing and Conception Vessels connected behind the brow, just above the bridge of his nose, deep within the folds of consciousness.

  And there it was.

  A ripple.

  A breath.

  A soft, luminous presence nestled in a place he had never truly reached before.

  Feiyin inhaled, and as he did, the edges of his perception shifted. It was like stepping into a quiet chamber within his own soul. Not forged by flesh, but formed of intention.

  It was his mind’s eye.

  Open.

  He had read of this moment in passing texts, tucked between lines of esoteric cultivation theory—of how rare it was to awaken the mind’s eye. It was not just a milestone, but a true barrier: the requirement for stepping into the Qi Condensation realm. Without it, no cultivator could begin to draw essence into their body. Many had reached the peak of Meridian Opening only to become stranded at the threshold, unable to proceed for decades—or ever. Some never opened it at all, their paths ending in stagnation and regret.

  But here it was.

  Open.

  Effortless.

  No, not effortless.

  Everything he had endured—his grief, his resolve, his tempered strength—it had all pointed to this.

  He sank deeper into the sensation, letting his inner vision sharpen.

  The mind’s eye was not sight in the usual sense. It did not see with color or shape. It felt, it perceived. It peeled away illusion and offered the world as it truly was—raw, interconnected, brimming with rhythm.

  And through that clarity, he felt something else.

  All around him.

  Threading through the stones of the floor. Curling along the walls. Weaving through the very air.

  Essence.

  Not yet a flood—but a mist. A presence. A subtle breath that did not belong to the body, but to the world.

  The world essence.

  Feiyin exhaled slowly, mind trembling with the enormity of it.

  This was the first step.

  Qi Condensation.

  Not the realm itself. But the door.

  Where the body no longer merely endured or generated strength, but learned to draw upon the breath of the world, harmonize it, and merge it with one’s own strength.

  This ability—to perceive the world essence—was the threshold.

  He stayed within the stillness, letting himself adapt. The sensation was not overwhelming. It was welcoming, even gentle. The threads of world essence did not resist him. They moved around him like old memories being remembered.

  With each breath, he could distinguish them more clearly. Each type of essence carried its own subtle oscillation.

  Some cool and fluid—like the feel of water in the early morning dew.

  Some sharp and bright—like the sound of a blade cutting clean through the air.

  Others pulsed like the heartbeat of the earth beneath him—deep, slow, resonant.

  He couldn’t really control them yet, only having a small influence. But he could feel them.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  And something more.

  With the opening of his mind’s eye, his oscillation sense didn’t just grow—it evolved. Where once he had sensed vibrations through matter, tension in movement, and resonance through his physical senses, now he could perceive the world’s song through the eye of the spirit itself.

  The two senses—oscillation and inner vision—overlapped and intertwined, each enhancing the other. A deeper layer of awareness opened up to him, allowing him to sense the melodies of the world not just as movement, but as meaning.

  He could hear the way heat shimmered, see the way silence hummed in still air.

  The world wasn't just visible—it was symphonic.

  And that was enough.

  That was everything.

  His mouth curled into the smallest of smiles.

  "I’ve finally made it this far."

  No fireworks. No roar of thunder.

  Just one quiet breath. One silent step through the veil.

  The mind’s eye had opened.

  And with it, the world itself began to change.

  But as he sat in that stillness, the faintest golden light crept beneath the cracks of the door. Feiyin blinked, glancing outside.

  Morning.

  A full night had passed.

  He rose to his feet and stretched lightly. His body felt refreshed, not just from rest, but from renewal. But more importantly, something pulled at his thoughts—the next step. He needed to revisit the information about opening the dantian, forming the qi nexus—the cyclone of essence qi that would mark the true beginning of the Qi Condensation realm.

  Before that, though, he wanted to see Shen Mu.

  Crossing the quiet halls of the outer disciples’ quarters, Feiyin gently knocked on Shen Mu’s door before letting himself in.

  Shen Mu was already awake, though it didn’t look like he had slept much. His eyes were heavy, and his shoulders slouched slightly as he sat by his worktable, slowly arranging a few familiar herbs he brought along from the menial section.

  Feiyin stepped in. "Let’s go eat."

  Shen Mu looked up, surprised. "You look different."

  Feiyin raised a brow.

  Shen Mu studied him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. "It’s subtle. But your skin—it’s clearer. Your eyes are brighter. Even the way you stand… You’ve changed."

  Cultivation refined more than strength. It polished the body toward an ideal. Perfection in motion. And now that Feiyin had opened all his meridians and unlocked the mind’s eye, his entire presence exuded a subtle shift—like a note struck in perfect resonance.

  Feiyin exhaled slowly. He tightened his oscillation control, sheathing the overflowing rhythm of his strength, lowering it to the level of his previous inner strength: 33,000 kilograms. His aura smoothed.

  "Better?"

  Shen Mu chuckled. "Much."

  Feiyin sat down across from him. "I opened the last two."

  Shen Mu’s expression froze, then slowly brightened.

  "Both?"

  Feiyin nodded. "At the same time."

  The tension in Shen Mu’s shoulders lifted slightly. "Well… finally. At least one good thing came out of this hellish week."

  Feiyin hesitated a moment, then added, "And… the world blessing—it did something else. It erased the heart-eating worm. Completely."

  Shen Mu blinked. For a second, his mouth hung open. "You’re serious?"

  Feiyin nodded again. "Gone. Not a trace left. It’s like the blessing itself refused to allow it to remain."

  Shen Mu leaned back, releasing a long breath. His eyes shimmered faintly—not with sadness, but something brighter. "That’s… incredible. Really."

  Feiyin gave a small smile. "And now, more than ever, I want to find a permanent cure. For everyone."

  Shen Mu clenched his fist, nodding firmly. "With the both of us working on it—we’ll make it happen."

  Something kindled between them again. A new flame in the ashes of their grief.

  They left together in quiet steps, walking the short path toward the Spilled Cauldron—where warm food and bustle awaited. Neither of them spoke much as they ate, just letting the heat and taste settle the weight on their chests.

  Once they finished, Feiyin looked up. "I want to check the library. The jade slips on Qi Condensation. Want to come?"

  "Always."

  Together they stepped into the quiet halls of the Hearthstone Archive. The shelves glowed faintly under the containment arrays, filled with neatly stacked jade slips. Feiyin and Shen Mu approached the section marked "Foundations of Qi Condensation."

  Feiyin reached out and selected a familiar slip. He placed it on the reading pedestal, allowing the transmission array to activate.

  Lines of knowledge flowed into his mind.

  Opening the mind’s eye—check.

  Opening the dantian—same as before. Meditation, oscillation alignment, inner strength resonance.

  But as he reached the next part… he paused.

  Forming the qi nexus, costing 50 points, which would have been 5000 points in the menial section.

  Here, the information shifted.

  Where the menial disciple slips ended in vague instructions, this one detailed the cyclone pattern. The micro-harmonics. The rotational tempo of how qi essence should be spun—first into threads, then into a spiral, then woven into a vortex.

  Diagrams etched in the mind.

  Explanations of possible failures, such as instability from an uneven draw, or collapse from imbalance in the body inner strength.

  Even adjustments depending on which meridians had been fully opened.

  Feiyin’s eyes sharpened.

  So this was the difference.

  Not in the beginning.

  But in the execution.

  He looked over at Shen Mu. "It’s the same until the nexus. Then… everything changes."

  Shen Mu rubbed his chin. "Figures. They give you just enough to get you dreaming in the menial section. But only the qualified get the real tools."

  Feiyin’s fingers brushed over the surface of the jade. The symbols glowed faintly beneath his touch.

  He said nothing.

  But his eyes held resolve.

  Now he had the knowledge.

  He would not waste it.