The interior of the Southern Ridge cabin was silent, save for the faint motes of dust dancing in the narrow shafts of moonlight that slipped through the wooden shutters. Fang Lin sat cross-legged on the worn cultivation mat, his eyes closed as he regulated the flow of his spiritual energy. Outwardly, his breath was shallow and uneven, his chest rising and falling in the jagged rhythm of a cultivator whose foundation had been severely shaken.
Within his spiritual sea, however, the reality was entirely different. His Peak-Solid Soul stood tall and unyielding, a quiet monument of absolute stability, while the cool, vibrant Nether Life Spirit Qi flowed through his meridians with the steady, pulsing force of a subterranean river.
"This place is so small," the Dark Flame Spirit's voice echoed in his mind, breaking the quiet. She was floating near the vent of the Ancient Spatial Furnace, her tiny form flickering with restless heat. "And it smells like old wood. Why do you live in a box, Loud-Boy? The legacy hall was much bigger."
"It is a cabin, not a box," Fang Lin replied mentally. "And in the Green Bamboo Sect, an outer disciple does not get a palace. Survival here requires discretion."
"Humans have too many rules," the spirit sighed. "So, what are we doing now? Are we just going to sit here and stare at the wall for three days?"
Fang Lin reached into his storage ring and retrieved a sealed, dark wooden box. The runes carved onto the lid hummed with a faint, residual sealing Qi. Inside lay the Old Vitality Leaf he had obtained from Meng Shi. The raw, ancient life force sealed within it was incredibly potent. If he opened it here, the sudden surge of vital Qi would rise like a green pillar of light into the night sky, alerting the white-haired Elder Feng or other inner sect elders.
"I want to use this," Fang Lin thought. "But the moment I break the seal, the energy leak will draw every divine sense within ten miles."
The Dark Flame Spirit sat up, her eyes widening. "Ooh, that leaf! The one that smells like wet dirt. You want to eat it? But you're afraid of the loud white-haired man? You have me! And you have the old man's furnace!"
"Do you have a way to conceal it?" Fang Lin asked.
"Of course I do! I am the spirit of the furnace!" she declared proudly. "The furnace has spatial runes. If I use it as the core, I can deploy a complete concealment formation. It will swallow every bit of aura, every spark of light, and every drop of energy. It bends the space inside the cabin slightly, drawing the boundary inward toward the furnace. The sect's arrays will only see an empty, quiet cabin. It's like hiding a drop of water inside a lake. Very simple, very clean."
"Then do it," Fang Lin said. "We have three days. I need to consolidate my body cultivation before the trial."
Not that he was afraid, but it's that he wanted to grow as much strong as possible before he's exposed.
Right now, he had the battle prowess of a middle stage core formation cultivator. But the gap between the middle and Late Core Formation was extremely huge.
Late Core Formation cultivators are experts of a region. They will be able to kill many early Core Formation cultivators with a wave of the hand and kill Middle Core Formation cultivators like Slaughtering chickens.
He had to gain that strength as fast as possible.
Deep within his spiritual sea, the Ancient Spatial Furnace suddenly vibrated. A faint, crimson-gold glow began to leak from the furnace's vents, spreading outward through Fang Lin's physical body. As the energy touched the cabin walls, a lattice of gossamer-thin, glowing red runes expanded silently across the floor, the ceiling, and the walls, before fading into transparency.
Fang Lin opened his eyes. His divine sense swept outward, testing the boundary. To his astonishment, his spiritual perception could feel the outer world, but when he tried to push his sense outward from the room, it was gently redirected back toward the center. The cabin had become an isolated pocket of space.
"Impressive," Fang Lin murmured.
"Hmph! Of course it is!" the spirit boasted in his mind. "Now eat your leaf, Loud-Boy."
Fang Lin did not waste any more time. He unlatched the dark wooden box. The moment the lid opened, a thick, green mist of vital energy billowed out, smelling of damp earth and ancient forest canopy. He reached into the box, took out the Old Vitality Leaf—its surface covered in intricate, vein-like patterns that pulsed with a faint, emerald light—and swallowed it.
The leaf dissolved instantly upon hitting his tongue, turning into a torrent of hot, primeval vitality that surged down his throat like a volcanic wave. The green energy rushed through his meridians, hot and heavy, threatening to stretch his meridians to the breaking point.
Deep within his spiritual sea, the mysterious grey seed suddenly trembled. It began to spin, creating a powerful spiritual vortex that eagerly drew the green vitality inward. As the seed drank, a cool, ancient resonance spread throughout Fang Lin's body, tempering the wild, hot rush of the leaf's energy.
Fang Lin did not pause. He reached into his storage ring again, retrieving a white jade vial of *Silent Meridian Black Dew*, the dark vial of *Ancient Iron-Blood Marrow*, and the two jars of *Black Stone Marrow Paste* he had obtained from the dead Black Mountain Gate attackers. He smeared the freezing cold, basalt-smelling marrow paste over his limbs and torso, letting it sink into his pores, and drank the dew and marrow.
The three distinct energies—the ancient vitality of the leaf, the shadow-tempering cold of the dew, and the brutal, heavy vitality of the iron-blood marrow—clashed violently within his body. His veins bulged beneath his skin, turning a deep, dark purple, and his muscles contracted with bruising force.
"Circulate," Fang Lin thought, his teeth gritted as he focused his Peak-Solid Soul to maintain control.
He began to run the Nine Nether Phantom Body technique.
The circulation was slow at first, like dragging a heavy stone through thick mud, but as the energies began to grind against his bones and muscles, the obsidian sheen of his skin deepened. The Netherskin stage of his body cultivation was being pushed to its absolute limit. His bones hummed, absorbing the iron-blood marrow to increase their density, while his meridians drank the black dew, their walls thickening and becoming more resilient.
Inside the isolated cabin, the passage of time was marked only by the shifting light of the moon outside the shutters. The Dark Flame Spirit watched from the spiritual sea, occasionally tossing small sparks into the furnace to keep the concealment formation steady.
On the second night, Fang Lin's body suddenly shuddered. A faint, dark mist began to seep from his pores, carrying the turbid impurities of his muscles and bones. The obsidian-black pattern on his skin began to ripple, consolidating into a smooth, flawless surface that looked almost like polished dark jade under the moonlight. The metallic sheen was gone, replaced by a deep, quiet density that felt heavier than stone but looked entirely natural.
A soft, muffled crack echoed in the room.
Breakthrough. He had successfully broken through the Greater Mastery stage, reaching the **Perfection stage of the Netherskin**.
The defensive resilience of his body had doubled, and the Nether Life Spirit Qi within his meridians had grown thicker and more refined, flowing with a cool, silent speed that made his physical recovery almost instantaneous.
"Finally," Fang Lin murmured. "The physical force is completely integrated."
"Well, you don't look green, at least," the spirit commented. "But you look heavier. Like a big rock."
"It is called strength," Fang Lin smugly said, stretching his limbs. The stiffness in his right shoulder was entirely gone, the muscles smooth and perfectly aligned.
He spent the third day carefully refining his disguise. Using his Peak-Solid Soul, he actively suppressed his Qi, forcing the vibrant, thick Middle Spirit Foundation energy deep into his dantian. On the surface, he simulated a thin, ragged stream of Qi that vibrated unevenly—the perfect representation of an Early Spirit Foundation cultivator whose meridians had been damaged by fire and whose foundation was highly unstable. He even simulated a slight stiffness in his right shoulder, pulling his outer disciple collar up to hide the unblemished skin beneath the charred hole of his robe.
-
The morning of Day 82 arrived with a patch of cold wind that swept down from the northern peaks of the Green Bamboo Sect. The sun rose behind the mountain, casting long, golden-red shadows across the Main Training Plaza.
The plaza was already packed. Hundreds of disciples clad in the green-and-silver robes of the outer sect and the emerald robes of the inner sect had gathered in neat rows. In the center of the plaza stood a massive, ten-foot-tall stone obelisk—the *Spirit River Testing Stone*. Its surface was covered in ancient, water-patterned runes that glowed with a pale blue light.
On the high wooden pavilion overlooking the plaza sat several inner sect elders. In the center sat Elder Feng, his white hair catching the morning light, his sharp, icy gaze sweeping over the crowd. Standing behind his chair, looking like a flame in her flowing crimson dress, was Feng Jiu'er. Beside her stood Su Wanqing, her expression calm and neutral.
"He's late," a cold, mocking voice muttered near the front of the outer sect ranks. It was Chen Hao, the *former* rank 3 outer disciple. Beside him stood a slender youth with sharp, narrow eyes and a long sword bound to his waist by a silver thread—Sun Jie.
Sun Jie, the rank 11 swordsman, smirked. "Perhaps our lucky survivor is still eating moss in his cabin."
"Keep your mouth shut, Sun Jie," Xuo Mu barked, stepping forward from the Green Bamboo Alliance group. "Fang Lin survived a year in a collapsed cave while you were sitting in your comfortable room drinking tea!"
Beside Xuo Mu, Xue Ji's eyes were cold as winter ice, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her wind-blade.
Li Shan stepped between them, his mature face calm. "Xuo Mu, stand back. The elders are watching."
Luo Chen stood beside Li Shan, his hand resting on the shaft of his battle-spear. Behind them, Murong Yue, Bai Qing, Han Zhi, and Zhao Feng stood in a tight semi-circle, their eyes fixed on the Chen faction with clear hostility.
At that moment, a figure walked slowly onto the plaza from the southern path. The murmurs in the crowd died down.
Fang Lin walked with slow, measured steps, his outer disciple robes clean but carrying the prominent, charred black ring on his right shoulder. His posture was slightly hunched, his right arm held close to his body to suggest stiffness, and his face was pale, his eyes carrying the pained humility of a survivor.
"He's actually here," Murong Yue murmured, her sharp eyes scanning his posture. "He looks stiff. The burn from Senior Sister Feng must still be bothering him."
Fang Lin offered his friends a pained, slightly awkward smile, bowing humbly as he walked past them. "Brother Li... Xuo Mu. I apologize for being late."
"Don't worry about it," Zhao Feng said, patting his good shoulder gently.
Han Zhi nodded. "Do not force your Qi if it hurts, Junior Brother."
The heavy sound of a bronze bell echoed across the plaza, silencing the remaining whispers.
Elder Mo Jintao stood up from the pavilion. "Silence! The Growth Assessment Trial begins now. The purpose of this trial is to verify the foundation, stability, and growth of all disciples who returned from the ruins or were missing. Those who fail to show stable cultivation or who are found to have regressed will be ordered into temporary seclusion to correct their paths."
He pointed to the obelisk. "The first phase is the foundation test. Step forward when your name is called and place your hand upon the Spirit River Testing Stone."
One by one, disciples stepped forward. The stone obelisk would glow with various intensities.
"Chen Hao!" the examiner called out.
Chen Hao stepped forward with a proud smile, placing his palm on the stone. Instantly, the obelisk erupted in a bright, steady green light that hummed with dense energy.
"Mid Spirit Foundation, stable!" the examiner announced.
"Fang Lin!" the examiner's voice called next.
The plaza went quiet. On the pavilion, Feng Jiu'er leaned forward slightly, her crimson eyes narrowed as she watched him. Elder Feng remained still, his white brows twitching once as his divine sense swept down, verifying the ragged, unstable Qi fluctuations Fang Lin was emitting.
Fang Lin walked up the stone steps. He took a slow breath, faking a wince as he raised his right hand, and placed his palm flat against the cold grey stone.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the runes on the obelisk began to flicker. A weak, pale-green light crawled up the stone, vibrating unevenly like a dying candle in a draft. The blue runes hummed with a discordant, rough sound, indicating that the Qi flowing into it was chaotic, thin, and lacking any steady rhythm.
"Early Spirit Foundation... unstable," the examiner announced, his voice carrying a hint of pity.
A quiet wave of whispers and chuckles erupted from the ranks of the Chen faction.
"Unstable Early Spirit Foundation," Sun Jie sneered openly. "He really is a fraud who got lucky once."
On the pavilion, Elder Feng nodded slowly. "His Qi is indeed chaotic. The burn from Jiu'er's flame has clearly disturbed his flow. He will need at least three months of quiet seclusion."
Feng Jiu'er did not speak. She looked at the lack of any white jade bottle. "Did he not use the pill?" she thought, her brow tightening.
Su Wanqing watched Fang Lin descend the steps, her expression remaining calm, though her gaze was thoughtful.
As Fang Lin walked back to the Alliance ranks, Xuo Mu and Luo Chen immediately stepped forward.
"It's fine, Fang Lin," Xuo Mu said, glaring at the whispering disciples. "The stone doesn't know anything."
"Yes," Xue Ji agreed, her voice quiet but firm.
"Thank you," Fang Lin murmured, wiping a fake bead of sweat from his forehead. "I tried my best."
"The second phase begins!" Elder Mo Jintao's voice cut through. "Voluntary combat challenges. Any disciple who wishes to verify their combat readiness or challenge a peer's rank may step forward now."
Before anyone else could move, a figure leaped onto the central stone arena, his movements light and swift. It was Sun Jie.
He drew his slender sword with a clean, ringing sound, the silver thread on the hilt catching the sunlight. He turned his narrow eyes directly to Fang Lin.
"Elders, disciples," Sun Jie said, his voice loud and clear. "I, Sun Jie, rank 11 of the outer sect, wish to challenge the rank 3 position. Fang Lin has been missing for eleven months, and his foundation is now verified to be unstable. I challenge him to prove he still deserves the third seat!"
"He's shameless!" Zhao Feng growled, his hand tightening on his blade.
"Elders!" Li Shan called out, stepping forward. "Junior Brother Fang is still recovering from his injuries. A challenge at this time is unfair!"
On the pavilion, Elder Mo Jintao looked to Elder Feng. Elder Feng remained silent, but Chen Hao's grandfather, another elder of the Chen faction, spoke up. "The Growth Assessment is meant to test actual combat readiness. If Fang Lin cannot fight, he may surrender his rank and enter seclusion immediately."
Feng Jiu'er's face tightened. She looked at Fang Lin, waiting to see if he would choose to surrender.
Fang Lin stood in the crowd, his face showing a mixture of hesitation and reluctant determination.
"I accept the challenge," Fang Lin said softly.
"Fang Lin!" Bai Qing cried out.
"Be careful," Luo Chen warned. "Sun Jie's sword is fast and his Early Spirit Foundation is extremely stable."
Fang Lin nodded. He reached into his storage pouch and pulled out a basic, standard Spirit Foundation Sword. The blade was plain steel, lacking any of the dark pressure of the Night Burial Sword he had kept sealed in his storage ring. He walked up the steps to the stone arena, his right shoulder slightly stiff, his grip on the sword handle looking slightly loose.
Sun Jie smiled, his sword-tip pointing to the ground. "Junior Brother Fang, I will be gentle. If you cannot hold your sword, just say the word and I will stop."
"Thank you, Senior Brother Sun," Fang Lin said humbly, raising his basic sword in a standard defensive stance. "Please, guide me."
"Begin!" the referee elder shouted.
Instantly, Sun Jie's figure blurred. His movement was incredibly swift, his silver-threaded sword transforming into three distinct streaks of silver light that shot toward Fang Lin's chest and shoulders—*Three Streams of the Silver River*.
Fang Lin simulated panic. His eyes widened, and he leaped backward in a clumsy, hurried retreat. He ran the basic *Flowing Wind Steps*, his feet sliding unevenly, his body tilting awkwardly as he barely avoided the silver streaks.
A sharp tear sounded. The sleeve of Fang Lin's left arm was sliced, a thin line of red blood appearing on his skin.
"He's too slow!" Chen Hao laughed from the crowd.
Sun Jie smirked, his sword-light flowing like a river as he pursued Fang Lin across the arena. "Is this the strength of the third rank? You're like a rabbit, Fang Lin!"
Fang Lin did not answer. He continued to retreat, block, and stumble. Every time Sun Jie's sword thrust forward, Fang Lin would barely parry it with his basic sword, the impact sending a simulated vibration through his right arm that made him wince. His Qi appeared more and more ragged, his face pale and covered in sweat.
To the crowd, it looked like a one-sided slaughter. However, in the upper pavilion, Feng Jiu'er's eyes grew sharper. She noticed that despite Fang Lin's clumsy stumbles and ragged breath, every single lethal strike from Sun Jie was parried or avoided by the narrowest margin.
"Is it luck?" she thought.
"Your blood will be the ink for my legend!" the Dark Flame Spirit mocked inside his head, her voice roaring with laughter. "Loud-Boy, you look so pathetic! Can I burn his pants off?"
"Be quiet," Fang Lin thought back. "I need to end this naturally."
Sun Jie grew impatient. He had wanted to humiliate Fang Lin quickly, but the weak junior kept slipping away.
"Enough running!" Sun Jie roared. His Qi flared, his silver sword-light condensing into a single, blinding point of light—*Silver River Piercing the Heavens*. The sword shot forward with terrifying speed, aiming directly at Fang Lin's right shoulder. Fang Lin's Peak-Solid Soul mapped the trajectory of the strike instantly. To him, the fast sword was moving as slowly as a crawling insect. He did not dodge.
Instead, just as the sword-point was about to touch his robe, Fang Lin simulated a sudden loss of footing. His left foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel on the arena floor, his body tilting violently to the side. The blinding silver point of light missed his shoulder by a hair's breadth, slicing empty air.
Because of the miss and the sheer force of his charge, Sun Jie's momentum carried him forward, his chest completely exposed.
At the same time, Fang Lin's clumsy stumble caused his basic sword to swing forward in a desperate, wild arc as he tried to regain his balance. The movement looked entirely accidental.
*Clang!*
The plain steel blade struck Sun Jie's wrist with heavy, solid force. A sharp crack of bone sounded. Sun Jie screamed, his grip loosening as his slender sword was sent flying across the arena, clattering loudly against the stone floor.
Fang Lin fell flat on his back, his sword slipping from his hand as he groaned in pain, clutching his "injured" shoulder and gasping for breath. Sun Jie took three steps back, clutching his broken wrist, his face pale with shock and humiliation.
The plaza fell into a stunned, absolute silence.
No one spoke. The rank 11 genius, who had dominated the entire fight, had been disarmed and defeated in a single breath—by a falling junior's flailing arm.
"He... he won?" Zhao Feng whispered, his eyes wide.
"Haha! I told you!" Xuo Mu roared with laughter, jumping up and down. "Fang Lin's luck is invincible! That is the power of the moss-eater!"
The Green Bamboo Alliance disciples erupted in cheers, their voices breaking the silence.
On the pavilion, Elder Feng stroked his beard, a rare, amused smile crossing his old features. "What a clumsy victory. But luck is also a part of a cultivator's path. His opponent grew too arrogant."
Feng Jiu'er stood still, her gaze fixed on Fang Lin, who was slowly, painfully pushing himself up from the stone floor, looking completely exhausted.
"Luck..." she murmured, her voice carrying a deep, unresolved suspicion.
Fang Lin stood up shakily, bowing humbly to the disarmed Sun Jie. "Thank... thank you, Senior Brother Sun, for showing mercy. I was just lucky."
Sun Jie could only glare at him with absolute hatred and shame, turning and leaping off the arena without a word.
Fang Lin walked down the steps, immediately surrounded by his cheering friends. As he let Xuo Mu wrap an arm around his shoulders, he kept his eyes lowered, a quiet, cold focus returning to his gaze beneath the illusion of exhaustion.
The first test was passed. The shadow of Shen Mo remained hidden, and the quiet path of Fang Lin in the Green Bamboo Sect remained exactly where it needed to be.
-