Seated cross-legged on the simple mat in my living quarters, I retrieved a jade slip from my new bag of holding.
It was the same slip that Sun Min had given me, the one concerning the Foundation Establishment Realm.
I inserted a strand of Qi into it and began reading, allowing the information to flow into my mind with sharp clarity. I read quickly but thoroughly, ensuring no detail escaped my grasp.
Once finished, I quietly exhaled, the weight of what I had absorbed settling deep within me.
When a cultivator reaches the peak of the eighth stage of Qi Condensation and feels mentally prepared for the next step, they must gather every drop of spiritual energy from their dantian and focus it to refine a single Major Vein. This Major Vein acts as a bridge, connecting the dantian to the network of meridians throughout the body.
This step marks the true entry into the Foundation Establishment Realm.
Unlike Qi Condensation, where advancement is marked by eight distinct stages, Foundation Establishment is divided into three broader stages: Early Stage, Mid Stage, and Late Stage.
Refining the first Major Vein immediately elevates a cultivator into Early Stage Foundation Establishment. With each additional Major Vein refined, the cultivator's strength grows tremendously, especially upon reaching the critical milestones of the fifth and ninth veins.
Refining the fifth Major Vein signifies the Mid Stage, while the ninth represents the Late Stage. However, to meet the prerequisites for the next great threshold—Core Formation—a cultivator must establish a total of twelve Major Veins.
Yet, even beyond this, there exists another opportunity for the truly ambitious and talented. After forming the twelve Major Veins, a cultivator may attempt to refine Secondary Veins. These Secondary Veins don't merely add to one's strength—they define a cultivator's future potential.
A fully refined set of twelve Secondary Veins, complementing the twelve Major Veins, would result in twenty-four veins total—a feat so rare that even among geniuses, few have ever achieved it.
The manual also detailed the methods by which one could attempt to break through.
The crudest method involves consuming a Foundation Establishment Pill. While this method guarantees entry into the Foundation Establishment Realm, it is widely regarded as inferior. It weakens the initial foundation and drastically complicates the refinement of Secondary Veins later on. Those without talent, or those desperate to survive, often resort to this path.
Alternatively, cultivators blessed with powerful backers—especially masters at the Nascent Soul level—could seek assistance. A master could forcibly guide a disciple's energy, smoothing the breakthrough. However, this too often left hidden flaws that might only reveal themselves in future bottlenecks.
The ideal method, the method the truly strong sought, was to forge the foundation with one's own strength. By relying solely on the Qi accumulated in one's dantian and condensing it meticulously into a Major Vein, a cultivator could lay a flawless, unshakable foundation.
The greater the quantity and purity of Qi invested into this first vein, the stronger and more stable the foundation would be, making future cultivation faster and breakthroughs smoother.
Foundation Establishment—the second major realm of cultivation. And yet, the difference between it and Qi Condensation was as vast as heaven and earth.
Not only would a cultivator's lifespan extend to three hundred years, but the strength of their physical body and Qi would increase exponentially. Flight would become possible, and more than that, the Qi pool within their dantian would expand by fiftyfold.
This feels like the true first step on the path of cultivation, I thought, reflecting. Qi Condensation was nothing more than preparation.
And that was only with the creation of one Major Vein. How strong must someone be who has refined all twenty-four veins? I mused inwardly.
It was no wonder that my feat of killing a Foundation Establishment elder, even an injured one, had shocked so many. It wasn't just strength or skill that allowed it—it was luck, timing, and the monstrous edge granted by the Crimson Sage's inheritance. Without those, such an achievement would have been utterly impossible.
Quietly, I closed my eyes, feeling the still-growing Qi within my dantian. I was still away from the peak of Qi Condensation, let alone standing at the threshold of Foundation Establishment.
"Hmm. The Obsidium Sanctum..." I muttered under my breath.
I hadn't heard much about it. Only that it was considered one of the greatest rewards a disciple could receive. Perhaps there were even greater rewards hidden away by the sect's highest authorities, but for someone like me, newly ascended to the inner sect, this was a rare and precious opportunity.
The Sanctum was said to be a paradise for comprehension—a place to refine one's understanding of the Dao. And for me, someone who hadn't yet fully aligned with a path, it would be invaluable.
Reaching the seventh stage wasn't just about strengthening the body. It was a stage of alignment: discovering and nurturing one's natural affinity for one or more elements, a necessary step before touching the true heights of cultivation.
In this world, it wasn't the elements of the West—fire, water, earth, air—or even the Buddhist godai with its concept of void and wind.
Here, everything followed the principles of Wuxing: Wood (mù), Fire (huǒ), Earth (tǔ), Metal (jīn), and Water (shuǐ).
The more I pondered Wuxing principles, the deeper the implications became.
The elements were bound together not just by nourishment, but also by suppression and decay. Water nourished Wood, Wood fed Fire, Fire birthed Earth (ash), Earth bore Metal, and Metal enriched Water. This cycle of creation, the generative cycle, reflected the natural order: growth, balance, renewal.
Yet each element could also weaken its source. Wood drained Water, Water rusted Metal, Metal impoverished Earth, Earth smothered Fire, and Fire devoured Wood. It was a silent erosion, the weakening cycle, where even growth came at a cost.
Then there was the destructive cycle, a harsher law, where each phase directly restrained another. Wood stabilized Earth, Earth controlled Water, Water suppressed Fire, Fire melted Metal, and Metal cleaved Wood. Not all control was nurturing; sometimes it was domination.
If an imbalance arose, the cycles turned brutal. In the overacting cycle, an element would excessively attack another—Wood over-depleting Earth, Earth choking Water, Water drowning Fire, and so on. Meanwhile, a counteracting cycle occurred when suppression failed and the intended victim retaliated—Wood dulling Metal, Metal cooling Fire, Fire evaporating Water.
These laws weren't abstract theories. In the cultivation world, they shaped life-and-death struggles.
In real combat, understanding these relationships meant everything. A Fire cultivator could dominate a Metal user, but fall prey to a Water specialist. Earth could counter Water's advance, yet burn under Wood's relentless growth. Choosing how to fight—or how to defend—wasn't just about power; it was about playing the cycles right.
Strange, I mused, how much this world mirrors ancient Chinese thought. Wuxing, the structure of cultivation, even the philosophy beneath it all...
Coincidence or something deeper? It was a question without an answer for now.
Discarding the thought, I focused back on the immediate future.
Now, one might wonder about the significance of the seventh Qi Condensation Stage and the elemental alignment it demands.
Beyond the core five elements of Wuxing, there also exist secondary elements, just as powerful, depending on the practitioner. Wind, Thunder, Ice, and Poison were among them. And then there were Light and Darkness.
Those two... I wasn't entirely sure if they were true elements or something even deeper—concepts, perhaps, that touched the fundamental nature of existence itself.
Regardless, my current path of walking along the Dao of Darkness and the Dao of Shadows meant that I faced little restriction. Darkness only truly conflicted with Light, its eternal nemesis, and, by extension, the opposing half of this world's great balance. Aside from that, my path remained open, unchained. I had full freedom to align myself with any other element without worrying about inherent disharmony.
It was possible, of course, to align fully with Darkness itself. Alignment at the seventh stage was not a final binding, it was merely the first element that formed a deep, instinctive connection. Later, other elements could still be comprehended and mastered with effort and opportunity.
However, one couldn't simply choose an element. Affinity wasn't a matter of preference; it was innate, born from the soul. Most cultivators only have an affinity with one element, but some cultivators even have manifested multiple affinities, a rare gift that offered overwhelming advantages in battles.
It was obvious from watching the elders and seniors that some cultivators have blended paths. Though our sect focused on Darkness and Shadows, some practitioners wielded another element alongside the darkness arts.
For now, there was no point in overthinking it. Soon, inside the Obsidium Sanctum, with the help of the comprehension of this holy ground, my true affinity would reveal itself. Given how smoothly I had harmonized with Darkness during the entrance examination, it seemed a strong candidate... but until the Sanctum unveils the truth, it will only remain a guess.
It was worth noting that while having a connection to the Dao of Darkness or Shadows was traditionally required to join the Monastery, exceptions were sometimes made for those with overwhelming talent and potential.
Though most cultivators naturally developed an affinity for the darkness, as the planet itself was divided between Darkness and Light, each claiming nearly half of its surface. Only the Veil Belt separated the two hemispheres.
Those born beneath the ever-bright skies of the light hemisphere, unsurprisingly, tended to possess affinities aligned with Light instead.
Standing up from the simple mat, I gathered my few possessions into the bag of holding. I paused, glancing once more around the small room that had been my home for these past months.
Then, with silent resolve, I stepped out, leaving it behind.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
Within the shadowy peaks of the Nightshade Monastery, where darkness draped the mountains like a living shroud and an ominous chill lingered in the air, stood a grand structure concealed by layered illusions and formidable shadow barriers. These were the Shrouded Halls. The true heart of sect governance, a place where only the most powerful and influential dared tread.
Tonight, the air inside buzzed with tension.
Beneath towering obsidian arches, a council of formidable elders sat encircling a vast, rune-carved table. Their combined auras warped the very air, each one a walking calamity capable of reducing a Foundation Establishment cultivator to ash with a flick of their wrist. Shadows flickered wildly across their robes, the dim glow of spirit lanterns only deepening the room's oppressive gloom.
Discussion had been heated, and the simmering unease finally boiled over.
"Elder Sun Min," a harsh, gravelly voice thundered across the chamber, "what exactly are your intentions?! You've granted a mere inner sect disciple, one who's been with us for scarcely a few months, permission to enter the Obsidium Sanctum?!"
The speaker was an old man with sharp, hawk-like eyes and a face lined with centuries of cultivation. His aura pulsed menacingly, easily on par with Elder Zhou Zhiqiu's—undeniably a Core Formation cultivator.
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered elders.
"Indeed," another voice cut in smoothly, this time from a middle-aged woman whose gaze gleamed coldly, like a serpent poised to strike. "Even you, Elder Sun Min, are bound by the sect's rules. Decisions like these are not yours to make on a whim. What precedent are we setting, allowing a fledgling to reap the benefits before proving himself?"
Her words were followed by a silence, the weight of disapproval thick in the room.
But Elder Sun Min, seated calmly with an expression of faint amusement, simply folded his hands across his robe and let out a light chuckle.
"Ah... so fiery tonight," he said, tone laced with mirth. "Have the mighty elders of the Nightshade Monastery been reduced to squabbling over a single disciple?"
His eyes, gleaming with subtle sharpness, swept over the gathered council.
He leaned forward slightly, his tone sharpening like a honed edge. "And yes, he is a new inner sect disciple, barely a few months in our sect. But as for proving himself?" He paused deliberately, eyes glinting. "Do I need to remind you what this boy has accomplished? Are we truly suggesting that slaughtering twenty-one enemies—including a Foundation Establishment cultivator—and single-handedly alerting the sect to a rebellion... is insufficient proof of merit?"
Elder Sun Min continued on, his words landing with the precision of a well-aimed blade. "And lest we forget," he added, voice silky with just a hint of mockery, looking at the first elder to issue the complaint, "he survived the ambush that your own disciple, Shen Lei, did not... Elder Huo."
The effect was immediate.
Elder Huo's face twitched, a vain pulsing at his temple as his fists clenched tightly against the carved wood of his chair. For a fleeting moment, raw fury flashed across his features. "You—!" he snapped, rising half out of his seat, but caught himself just in time. He inhaled deeply, forcing the rage down, and slowly sank back into his place, his expression smoothing into a mask of calmness.
Eyes narrowing into sharp slits, he spoke with dangerous calm. "A Foundation Establishment cultivator," he repeated, voice low and edged with quiet challenge. "We've read your glowing report, Elder Sun Min. But let's speak more plainly—none of us witnessed this miraculous feat firsthand."
His gaze swept the council, gathering subtle nods of agreement from others seated at the table.
"Do you truly expect us to believe," he pressed on, words crisp with skepticism, "that a mere seventh-stage disciple, unaided, defeated a Foundation Establishment cultivator in direct combat? Even wounded, the difference between realms is not something so easily crossed. We are not children to be dazzled by tall tales."
The room hummed with tension once more, the elders' eyes flicking between Elder Sun Min and Elder Huo, the weight of suspicion heavy in the still air.
Sun Min's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew just a shade more amused.
At that moment, a cool, crisp voice cut through the tension.
"I can confirm Elder Sun Min's account," Zhou Zhiqiu said, rising from her chair. Her cold, graceful presence filled the chamber like a breath of winter air. "I personally witnessed Ayanokoji Kiyotaka defeat the Foundation Establishment cultivator."
A wave of gasps rippled through the room, exclamations rising in surprise and disbelief. Elders shifted in their seats, some leaning forward, others exchanging sharp glances as murmurs began to escalate.
But before the room could spiral into another uproar, a calm, measured voice added fuel to the fire.
"While I did not witness the battle myself," Elder Lu said, emerging from the gloom with his characteristic serenity, "I can vouch for Ayanokoji's extraordinary talent in alchemy. In all my years, I have rarely seen such raw potential. He is... remarkable."
Gasps of fresh astonishment followed.
"Elder Lu, too?!" voices whispered, echoing across the room, eyes wide with renewed shock.
Then, as if to deliver a final blow to the skeptics, another voice, deep, commanding, brimming with weight, rang out.
"I will also lend my word," the voice declared. Mo Hong, rivaling Sun Min, also rose from his chair, his eyes hard and unwavering. "Since the boy entered our sect, I have observed his progress. His growth is... frankly, beyond expectation.
The murmurs died instantly. Where criticism had once flowed freely, now silence fell—thick, tense, and absolute.
Sun Min's smile sharpened into quiet triumph. He rose just slightly from his chair, his tone smooth and cutting as he delivered the final blow. "Tell me, esteemed elders—does the Obsidium Sanctum not exist for those with the highest potential? If so, I see no flaw in my decision."
A hush fell across the council chamber, the weight of his words settling like a heavy cloak. All eyes turned to Elder Huo, whose jaw tensed visibly, teeth grinding audibly in frustration. His eyes flashed, sharp with lingering defiance, but he knew the tide had turned.
Finally, voice tight with final defiance, he spat, "Potential or not, recklessness is still recklessness! Even geniuses must be tempered properly! And sending a mere Qi Condensation disciple into the Sanctum—"
"Enough."
The word cut through the room like a blade of ice, halting Elder Huo mid-sentence.
Every head turned in unison toward the source—a single figure seated on a platform higher than the others, shrouded in an aura of quiet, devastating strength.
It was the sect leader.
Tall and striking, he looked no older than his thirties, yet the authority he carried was absolute, and the crushing force of his cultivation radiated effortlessly from every pore. The glow of his eyes alone was enough to silence any protest.
Elder Huo's fury drained instantly, his posture stiffening. No matter his grievances, to challenge him was folly.
The sect leader's voice rang out, calm but unyielding. "Let him go."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes sweeping the gathered council. "What's done is done. The decision stands. To withdraw his reward now would only stain the sect's honor in the eyes of our disciples. The Obsidium Sanctum tests everyone. If this boy is unworthy, the mountain will break him long before we need to lift a finger."
Sun Min had, in truth, secured victory the moment he announced Ayanokoji's reward in public. The council could bluster and protest all they wished, but the damage, or rather, the commitment, had already been sealed before this meeting even began. To revoke such a reward now would be tantamount to the sect admitting weakness and capriciousness in front of its disciples.
This heated debate and Sun Min's sharp responses? Merely the finishing flourish. The icing atop an already well-baked scheme.
The sect leader's gaze now shifted smoothly to Sun Min, eyes glinting with quiet calculation.
"That said," he intoned, his voice cool but resolute, "Elder Sun Min, you did bypass established procedures. Though your intentions may have been sound, we cannot allow precedent to slip so easily."
He sat back, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. Every elder in the room turned their full attention to him, the weight of expectation thick in the air.
"As a compromise," the sect leader continued, "Ayanokoji Kiyotaka will retain his place. However, we will open this opportunity further. Nine additional disciples will accompany him, forming a group of ten who will enter the Obsidium Sanctum together."
A ripple of surprise swept through the room, eyes flicking from the sect leader to one another in silent calculation.
"Two of those spots," the sect leader added smoothly, his gaze sharp as a blade, "will be filled by my own disciples. The remaining seven shall be granted to those who have demonstrated the highest talent."
A pause followed, heavy with the weight of finality, before the sect leader's voice rang out once more:
"This matter is settled. In one month, the Obsidium Sanctum shall be opened."
The weight of the sect leader's words hung heavy, sealing the matter with the force of law.
Sun Min gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable, though a faint glint of satisfaction lingered behind his composed eyes.
And so it was decided.
In one month, ten disciples—among them Ayanokoji Kiyotaka—would step foot into the Obsidium Sanctum.
Wherein power would either bloom...
...or be broken.
***
A/N: So I hope you all understood the core principle of the elements in battle. Like in Naruto, e.g., where fire beats wind, wind beats thunder, etc. this world has its own elemental system—a system that will be deepened and expanded later on, but this is the base.
Here Wood beats Earth, Earth beats Water, Water beats Fire, Fire beats Metal, and Metal beats Wood, BUT if a cultivator is much stronger or has much greater knowledge/comprehension in their element than their enemy, then everything can happen.
Even the opposite: Wood beats Metal, Metal beats Fire, Fire beats Water, Water beats Earth, and Earth beats Wood.
So, in quick summary:
Wood: Strong against Earth; Weak against Metal
Fire: Strong against Metal; Weak against Water
Earth: Strong against Water; Weak against Wood
Metal: Strong against Wood; Weak against Fire
Water: Strong against Fire; Weak against Earth
This applies normally, but can be overridden if a huge gap exists between cultivators.
And then, there are the other elements, you could say secondary elements; those also have their own disadvantages and advantages, but that is a matter for a different time.
...
Then now, a few words on this fic, as lately I have been receiving more and more comments about the irregular update schedule, or rather, lack of updates. Some even added this book to reading lists named 'abandoned' (Ouch).
Most of you who are reading this are probably also aware of my other fic, the Food Wars crossover. And, yes, while I am also writing that one, this one still remains my main priority, but let me explain.
There is a huge difference between CotP and A Cut Above the Rest (Food Wars). One follows the plot of the main story (Food Wars), while I add my own content and changes, and the other one is an original story.
With ACAtR I can always return to a point when I am lost. I always have a guideline, something that I miss with CotP. CotP is a very, very ambitious project, and it is going to be a very, very long story, like all those other Xianxia stories that are out there.
As it is an original story (apart from using Ayanokoji), I need to come up with everything on my own. Characters. The World. Cultivation System. Everything. While the world and cultivation system are already planned out, the plot isn't.
In short, this means I can bring out updates to the Food Wars fic much faster than for CotP, as there is already a plot for ACAtR, unlike with CotP.
(This doesn't mean that I spend less time on CotP than on ACAtR—not at all.)
Aside from that, as I am not a professional author and am not receiving any income for my time spent, I have a lot of things I have to do outside of writing, meaning sometimes weeks pass by without allowing me to spend any time on my stories.
Well, enough talk. I could write much more on this topic, but I don't want to make this A/N longer than the chapter... and I know you wouldn't want to read all this yapping.
For those of you who have chosen to spend some of their time reading this A/N, thank you, and hopefully, you will hear from me again soon.
The next chapter will be the first .5 chapter.