The hellish training in the Body Refinement Division had continued without pause, days bleeding into weeks, weeks into months. Time was merciless. Before Duō Yī realized it, the three-month window he had promised Hu Li had arrived.
In the stillness of his residence, the faint scent of sandalwood lingered from last night's incense. Duō Yī sat cross-legged upon a straw mat, his posture upright, his breathing deep, slow and steady. His eyes which were closed in meditation fluttered open as sunlight slanted across the courtyard wall, dyeing the air with shades of gold.
Before him floated a faint screen of light, a construct that only he could see. His gaze falling on the words etched on it.
[Name: Duō Yī][Race: Human][Status: Damaged Soul (X)][Realm: Qi Gathering Realm (4th Stage)] [Mortal Flesh I][Life Span: 13/80][Abilities: HIVE][Skills: {Fundamental Elemental Fist}, {Qi Flow: Optimization Techniques}][Elemental Affinity: Null][Energy Reserve: 300/300][Current Replicas: 1/1][Current Qi: 200/2000]
[Node 1 / Hei Lóng][Race: Human][Status: Damaged Soul (X)][Realm: Qi Gathering Realm (2nd Stage)] [Mortal Flesh III][Life Span: 13/60][Elemental Affinity: Null][Energy Reserve: 300/300][Current Qi: 300/500]
His eyes lingered on the lines, tracing them slowly as though weighing each truth against the reality he lived.
Qi gathering realm fourth stage.
A small accomplishment after months of meditation and ceaseless effort. The progress tasted bitter on his tongue. He knew it should have been faster. Without the constant drain of sustaining Hei Lóng's healing, without pouring half his qi every single day into the battered clone just to keep him alive, perhaps he would already stand at the fifth stage, maybe even brushing against the sixth.
He exhaled slowly.
No, that wasn't the full truth. He wasn't a genius to begin with. His pace, even if unhindered, would never match most talents that walked the sect's courtyards with ease. He could not compare to the those termed prodigies whose very presence seemed destined to climb the immortal path.
What he was… was persistent and lucky.
That persistence, coupled with the anomaly of the HIVE, was why he still breathed. Hei Lóng's existence had doubled his capacity of gathering qi earlier on when they split before the clan trials, though in a twisted way. His clone absorbed punishment no single ordinary person could endure, his body advancing in the Mortal Flesh Realm until it stood at the third stage. But when it came to qi cultivation, Hei Lóng had barely crawled forward, stuck at the second stage, crippled by the siphon of energy that constantly flowed back to Duō Yī. He had made Hei Lóng when he was only at the first stage of the qi gathering realm, and had practically used al the gathered qi from Hei Lóng to rapidly boost his own cultivation to reach the third stage early so as to meet up with the clan trial requirements.
It was a strange symbiosis. Hei Lóng lived only because Duō Yī provided qi for healing his wounds. Duō Yī grew only because Hei Lóng endured hell in his stead. Together they survived, though neither could effectively thrive.
He let the status board fade from sight, the pale glow dispersingt.
Duō Yī's gaze swept over his small residence. The straw mat where he meditated. The narrow bed against the wall. A clay pot of water, its surface rippling faintly in the cool breeze. Simple things. Modest things. Yet they had been his for months, anchoring him in a world where survival was never guaranteed.
By the door leaned his staff, plain white and smooth one could mistake it for a big bone . Beside it sat a small travel sac, carefully packed with necessities—dried rations, spare robes, a few spirit herbs he had bartered for. Nothing luxurious. Only what was needed.
He rose to his feet, joints whispering in quiet protest after long hours of sitting. With deliberate motion, he slung the bag over his shoulder, the strap settling against his chest. His hand curled around the staff, grounding him in its weight.
For a moment, he stood in the doorway, looking back at the familiar walls, the faint shadows stretching across the floor. There was no sentiment in his deep blue eyes, only a brief pause, as though marking the memory before it faded.
Then he opened the door.
The sect outside bustled with movement. Disciples hurried along the stone paths, robes swaying, voices echoing in the crisp morning air, avian cries of cranes carried along by the wind. The clatter of weapons from distant training grounds mingled with the rustle of wind through bamboo groves. Life moved as it always had, indifferent to the steps of one disciple among thousands.
The mission Hu Li had proposed awaited him. The meeting place was not far, and beyond it stretched uncertainty, maybe danger, perhaps opportunity. He did not know what he would face, only that the first step began with walking forward.
He adjusted the weight of the staff in his grip, his expression calm. Without hesitation, he merged into the flow of disciples moving along the sect's paths, each step carrying him closer to the appointed spot where Hu li and the others awaited.