[Today was a day of cultivation, but with no gains.][Extraction: +1 Insight]
At the close of the day—when night finally draped its dark curtain over everything—Fang Jin Yu, as hoped for, finally beheld the day's "harvest": a near-break of his emotional defenses. In that quiet moment, he understood something that had gnawed at him during his countless hours of labor and arcane study.
"It seems," he thought ruefully, "that despite being at the ninth level of Qi Condensation—on the verge of establishing a Foundation—my cultivation practice feels as though it yields not a trace of enhancement in my mystical energy. I've simply reached a bottleneck; my progress has come to a standstill."
In that moment, clarity flooded his mind. Fang Jin Yu now understood why cultivators at his level (ninth layer of Qi Condensation) were so hungry for that elusive Foundation Pill. For those with spiritual roots other than the dreaded four-type kind, a single Foundation Pill was almost guaranteed to help them break through. It was, in every sense, a miraculous elixir—a life-altering medicine that could rewrite one's fate.
But for all its promise, the price of a Foundation Pill was exorbitant. One pill demanded no less than 30,000 spiritual stones—a sum that no Qi Condensation practitioner, even those who toiled for a century, could hope to gather easily. Some immortal cities might even lend a helping hand via loans to cultivators at the ninth level of Qi Condensation, but the catch was brutal: even if you managed to establish your Foundation with those funds, you'd then end up pledging your life, as it were, to the immortal city for at least twenty years. And if you failed to break through in that period, well… the city would claim your life entirely, reducing you to the status of a slave—a beast of burden to serve forever.
Fang Jin Yu's insights on these grim economics were not plucked from the air. They were memories inherited from his previous life—a previous self who had suffered the cruel twists of fate and learned these painful lessons firsthand. And that so-called "immortal city" was really just a fancy euphemism. In truth, all those who dwelled there were merely other cultivators, caught in the same web of destiny. Typically, an immortal city would be governed by at least one Golden Core cultivator whose very presence commanded respect and cautious awe.
What made the Lingdu Secret Realm so prized for the disciples of Tianling Sect was precisely its ability to bolster one's prospects. Every disciple who emerged from that mystical realm could, at the very least, gather the worth of one Foundation Pill—and if fortune smiled upon them, even up to three pills! It was nothing short of a shortcut to unimaginable wealth in power; even seasoned Foundation cultivators eyed such opportunities with envy.
At that moment, as the last vestiges of the day lingered, Fang Jin Yu experienced a sudden, almost miraculous surge of insight. His mind, now clear as crystal, began to replay in vivid detail every facet and fine point of his own cultivation technique—the "Wind and Thunder Guidance" method he had long practiced. Every nuance, every subtle flaw in his method, unfolded in his mind like pages from a sacred manuscript.
As he mentally retraced his steps and examined each detail, Fang Jin Yu suddenly understood all his past errors, the missing links in his practice that had led him to this stifling bottleneck. And with that revelation came a burst of jubilation. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he felt a spark of hope: if he could mend each of these mistakes one by one, he might even find a way to break through into the Foundation realm without having to rely entirely on the elusive Foundation Pill. It was as if the very errors that had held him captive were now keys that could unlock the door to boundless possibility.
In his elated excitement and with a heart pounding with anticipation, Fang Jin Yu moved to correct his cultivation faults immediately. But just then, a sudden disturbance caught his attention. He noticed that the magical barrier guarding the entrance to his secluded cave—the door barrier that had long kept intruders at bay—had been triggered.
Quickly, he grabbed a small mirror that lay by his side—one he had long since been granted by the sect after his parents' sacrifice. This was no ordinary mirror; it was a low-grade spiritual instrument known as the "Inquiry Mirror." Though modest in quality, it displayed images from outside his abode when infused with even a small amount of his latent magical energy. In effect, it allowed him to peer into the world beyond his hidden sanctuary. Even though its resolution wasn't perfect, the mirror was still useful enough to fetch him a few hundred spiritual stones if he were to sell it someday. Still, Fang Jin Yu couldn't help but chide its mediocrity—it was nothing more than a trifle, practically useless at times.
As he channeled his power into the mirror, the image that began to emerge wasn't entirely unexpected. There were two figures outside his door. One was a man who appeared slightly older—roughly in his early thirties—and the other was a younger lad, whose expression exuded a trace of arrogant disdain. A more careful inspection revealed that both of these individuals were cultivators of the later stage of Qi Condensation. One was at the ninth level and the other at the seventh level.
"This isn't Chen Baxing," Fang Jin Yu murmured in surprise. Even though the two of them looked like they might be trouble, he quickly resolved to unlock the door barrier. After all, in his mountain peak of the Tianling Sect, nothing could withstand a simple strike—even a Qi Condensation cultivator's casual knock was enough to trigger the alarm. And he quite doubted that either of these intruders would have the nerve to actually make a move against him.
Once the barrier was undone, Fang Jin Yu stepped outside and greeted them with a modest bow of his fists. "Gentlemen—what urgent matter brings you to my humble abode?"
No sooner had the words left his lips than the impudent young man sneered, "Ha! You talk so funny. Do you really think that because nothing important has come up you can't be disturbed? And by the way, what on earth is that foul stench? Have you been eating your own filth or something?" His voice dripped with insolence.
At the edge of his tongue, Fang Jin Yu wanted to curse the youth; yet he forced himself to swallow his ire and instead directed his attention to the older man. The latter's countenance betrayed a flicker of embarrassment, but given his status, it was clear that he must be spoken to with deference. Seeing that Fang Jin Yu was now focusing on him, the older man quickly cupped his fists and said, "Elder Brother Fang, allow me to introduce myself: I am Lu Shaojun, sent by Brother Chen on behalf of our master, Chen Baxing."
At these words—"sent by Brother Chen"—Fang Jin Yu's eyes narrowed perceptively. Tianling Sect, it seemed, boasted not only scholarship and cultivation but also a world of secret errands and private businesses. His heart turned cold at the insinuation. How could it be that, with all the hardships of shoveling excrement for over a month just to avoid that neurotic Golden Core cultivator with his lovelorn madness, one could now be pestered by such operatives?
Lu Shaojun's tone did not leave much room for doubt. "Ha-ha, you look scared now, don't you? Since you know it was Brother Chen who sent us, you'd better hand over the spot—the coveted opportunity to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm. Hurry up and give it to us; spare us the trouble of having come all this way for nothing!"
Fang Jin Yu's face remained impassive even as the mention of Chen Baxing sent a chill down his spine. He had never been particularly afraid of the rogue cultivator himself; after all, from the book's narrative, Chen Baxing was once only a ninth-level Qi Condensation cultivator before his fabled breakthrough—a feat reportedly aided by Su Yi'er herself. Yet the audacity of Lu Shaojun's demand was enough to rouse indignation in him.
"Really? So you've come all this way, only to claim that the opportunity is not mine but belongs to someone else?" Fang Jin Yu's voice turned icy as he spoke. "I warn you—I shall report your misdeeds, and you three will have your cultivation level annulled and be expelled from Tianling Sect!" His words brimmed with controlled fury, and it was clear that, to him, this was nothing less than a slap in the face.
Lu Shaojun, despite having been swiftly overpowered earlier by Fang Jin Yu's effortless use of wind magic, still maintained his insolence as he snapped back, "Brother Fang, don't try to act so righteous. We're merely following Brother Chen's orders. Besides, my second companion here is new to the sect and has much to learn about proper conduct. How dare you send him packing with such disdain!"
At that, the younger youth's anger boiled over. "What do you mean, 'send me packing'? Who do you think you are? I'll show you what it means to offend me!" The impetuous youth then hurled a wind-blade straight at Fang Jin Yu without further provocation.
For a moment, Fang Jin Yu's heart skipped a beat. Had this impulsive youngster really dared to initiate a fight? In an instant, however, Fang Jin Yu's cultivation instincts sprang into action. With a swift backward grab, he caught the wind-blade mid-flight. For a split second, the blade dissipated into scattered gusts of air—but not before he seized the momentum and reformed it into a much more formidable wind-blade, which he dispatched downward with the force of thunder.
Both blades were the same in nature—but the blade Fang Jin Yu wielded was ten times more potent than that of the young man, and its speed was blinding. Lu Shaojun, taken aback by the sheer force of the counterattack, froze in stunned silence. In his years of sparring and brawls in his own home, he had never encountered anyone who could neutralize an attack so decisively.
"Not good!" cried out another voice from behind—a third party who had been lingering on the sidelines. It was Lu Yifang, a senior cultivator who couldn't abide by the thought of harm befalling Lu Shaojun, especially since his father was a renowned alchemist of the sect—a Foundation cultivator, no less. Swiftly, Lu Yifang activated a talisman that transformed into a circular light shield, interposing himself between the destructive wind-blade and Lu Shaojun.
With a resounding impact, the wind-blade was obliterated, and the dazzling radiance of the talisman dimmed as it expended its energy protecting its charge. All around them, the ground lay in chaos from the ferocious wind forces. Shockingly, even the cavern walls bore the marks of the onslaught, scorched with deep gouges from the violent currents.
For a moment, Lu Yifang hesitated. But then, having no further intent to continue the melee, he addressed Fang Jin Yu in a conciliatory tone, "Elder Brother Fang, please forgive us. Young Lu Shaoji is new to our sect and simply unaware of our customs. We mean no harm. We were merely carrying out orders."
Even as Lu Yifang's words dripped with apology, his mind seethed with frustration. If it were not for the fact that he now had to work with this brat on further assignments, he'd have gladly put an end to this foolishness.
Fang Jin Yu, though still simmering with suppressed anger, noted something curious in the youthful cultivator's expression. He remembered that, in Tianling Sect's recruitment policy, new disciples were typically chosen from among those with even lower cultivative potential—ideally ordinary human beings endowed only with natural aptitude. The fact that this young man had only reached the seventh level of Qi Condensation suggested that he was indeed one of those special "non-cultivator" entries, chosen for his raw potential and minimal initial cultivation.
Suppressing his inner ire, Fang Jin Yu forced himself to ask in a calm tone, "Then tell me: what business does Brother Chen have now? How exactly do you expect me to hand over the Lingdu Secret Realm quota?"
Lu Shaojun's tone turned sharp as he retorted, "Brother Chen has ordered you to relinquish your chance to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm! Those who are wise enough should simply hand it over to us. Stop dilly-dallying and make the exchange now—do not make our trip here a complete waste!"
Fang Jin Yu, still seething inwardly at the audacity of their demands, thought bitterly, Why suffer a month of backbreaking labor—transforming excrement into my only saving grace—just so you can bully me into yielding something as precious as the only entry chance?
With disdain, Fang Jin Yu countered, "You really believe that I haven't counted every cost? If I report this entire matter to the sect's authorities, you three will be stripped of your cultivation and expelled on the spot." His gaze turned icy as he looked at the pair of them, as if he were regarding two fools. In his mind, if the quota were truly sellable, he would have sold it long ago. Why had he wasted a month's worth of effort avoiding that lunatic Golden Core cultivator who made love his only guiding star?
Lu Yifang cleared his throat, "Elder Brother Fang, please understand that we are in an impossible position. We all know what Brother Chen and the others expect. But I must also remind you: the quota in question is meant for a truly great cultivator."
Fang Jin Yu's eyes narrowed. "A 'great cultivator'? There can be only one such person—the one in the Golden Core stage." His tone was measured yet carried unmistakable contempt.
At these words, Lu Yifang's face fell, shock and dismay mingling in his eyes. He looked at Fang Jin Yu, as if surprised that the latter had called them out so bluntly. "Wha—what do you mean?" he stuttered in disbelief.
Fang Jin Yu continued, "You see, the man who truly deserves this privilege—is none other than a Golden Core cultivator. And if you expect me to simply surrender my hard-won quota to someone who is hardly more than a Qi Condensation cultivator, then what is the meaning of all your efforts?"
The mood shifted palpably in the cool night air. A thick silence descended among them as all eyes turned to Fang Jin Yu. His tone was not indulgent or repentant; instead, it was a mix of scorn and resolve—a man who had grown tired of being pushed around by the whims of fate and the scheming of others.
Lu Yifang, his earlier defiance now replaced by a hint of desperation, took a step closer. "Elder Brother, allow me to explain. Our master, Brother Chen, did not intend for you to keep the quota. He simply dispatched us to remind you and to see to it that you'd relinquish it willingly," he insisted. He glanced from Fang Jin Yu to his volatile junior companion, a mixture of hope and resignation coloring his voice further. "Moreover, my teacher has arranged something on your behalf. If you can gather all the necessary materials for a Foundation Pill, then my senior alchemist—who is none other than the father of our junior Lu—has promised that he will manufacture a Foundation Pill just for you."
Fang Jin Yu could hardly believe the calculation. "So you're telling me that, all this while, you plan to have me collect a bunch of medicinal ingredients and, in return, give you only one Foundation Pill? Do you take me for a sucker?" His inner thoughts raged with bitterness. The very idea made him want to spew curses at the unfairness of it all: after all, one furnace's batch of pills would usually yield seven or eight, not just a single scrap. This was not a fair trade—it was a slap shot on the wrist, a gesture so condescending as to make him the fool in a rigged game.
Lu Yifang, sensing his growing ire, spoke again, "Elder Brother Fang, I understand that this matter puts you in a difficult position. That is why Brother Chen has granted you five days to make your decision. We must act quickly, for our senior alchemist has only given us a month's grace, and now less than half of that remains."
Fang Jin Yu paused, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and the enormity of the offer. "Wait," he finally demanded, his tone edged with incredulity, "are you saying that the one who wants this quota is a high-level cultivator?"
That question sent an immediate shock through Lu Yifang. The very notion that such an important quota was meant solely for someone who had achieved Golden Core status made his face drain of color. "I—I…" he stammered, his earlier bravado vanishing in an instant.
Fang Jin Yu's eyes glittered with a mix of cunning and resolve. In his heart, bitter satisfaction welled up as he considered the possibility that these men had somehow underestimated him. "So tell me then," he said coolly, "what exactly is it that you want from me? And by what right do you come here to claim what I have earned?"
The tension hung heavy in the cool night air—a confrontation between a man who had just gleaned an important insight from a day of fruitless cultivation, and these fellow cultivators whose intentions were murky at best. Fang Jin Yu's inner voice reminded him that he was not only fighting for the mere chance to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm, but also for the dignity and future prospects of his own destiny. And in that struggle, even a single point of insight—now acquired through his long day of reflection—was proof that he might yet defy the cruel script that had once designated him as expendable.
As the confrontation continued and the night deepened, Fang Jin Yu knew he had little time. With five days to decide his next move, each passing moment felt fraught with both danger and possibility. Would he allow these schemers to force him into surrendering his one chance? Or would he seize this moment—the moment richest in hard-fought insight—and finally set about mending the flaws in his cultivation so that he might break through without relying on an expensive, hard-to-get Foundation Pill?
His mind—or rather, his spirit—was stirred anew. Though the day's cultivation had yielded no direct improvement in magical power, the extraction of insight had granted him something even more valuable: understanding. In that quiet moment, as the barrier to his cave lay open behind him and the intruders' voices still echoed in his ears, Fang Jin Yu made his decision. He would not be bullied into surrendering what was rightfully his. He would use the newfound clarity to restructure his practice, to remedy his mistakes, and in doing so, he might even pave a new pathway to the Foundation realm—one that did not depend entirely on the exorbitant purchase of a Foundation Pill.
With that resolve, he prepared to return to his personal sanctum. Carefully, he reopened the door barrier and retreated back inside, each step measured as though he were weighing the consequences of the days ahead. Already, his thoughts raced through every possibility—every negotiation, every cunning trick, every plan that might allow him to outwit these schemers. The knowledge gleaned today was new ammunition, arming him with the confidence that if he could correct his inner errors, perhaps fate itself might be twisted in his favour.
Yet even as he contemplated this internal revolution, another thought disturbed him. How did these men—especially the one he now recognized as possessing a dubious advantage—dare demand his prized quota? Their arrogance and their cunning calculations revealed a world that truly had "fallen", a place where even kinship and loyalty were measured only by the accumulation of power and resources. And while Fang Jin Yu's heart burned with indignation at the unfairness of it all, he tempered it with caution. After all, in Tianling Sect's intricate hierarchy where every peak hosted a dozen cultivators of similar ability, the protagonist was always at the center of trouble. And he, a mere expendable pawn in a narrative written by fate, could ill afford to be at its epicenter.
In that turbulent moment, as he sat alone in his modest cave, Fang Jin Yu pondered the true nature of the "main character." In many ways, being declared the main character meant that every misfortune, every assassination of opportunity, and every tangled web of interpersonal intrigue revolved around you. It was an existence filled with peril—a vortex that could easily snuff out the life of one who dared to emerge from the shadows.
Yet tonight, amid the interplay of light and darkness, Fang Jin Yu had also begun to see the potential for transformation. The day of fruitless cultivation, marked now by its modest bonus of "+1 Insight," was not entirely in vain. For in that insight lay a promise: a promise that even in a day where no external power increased, one's mind could sharpen to the point of breaking through barriers that had long confined them.
As the minutes melted away into the early hours of the night, the echoes of the confrontation outside gradually faded. The trembling voices of Lu Shaojun and his companions—now reduced to angry murmurs—served as a reminder that Fang Jin Yu must not let his guard down. He knew that in this dangerous game of hidden orders and secret quotas, his survival depended not only on his martial prowess but also on his ability to navigate a labyrinth of political intrigues and personal vendettas.
His eyes shifted to a small talisman hung near the door—a silent witness to countless moments of quiet determination. In that instant, Fang Jin Yu resolved that his path forward would be carved out not by acquiescing to demands or by yielding to fate, but by taking control of every breath of insight he had earned today. He would study the flaws in his cultivation method again and again, patching them with the knowledge drawn from a lifetime of hidden memories. He would gather the medicinal herbs, the necessary resources, and if need be, bargain with those who sought to exploit him—in order to assemble the components required not only for a Foundation Pill but for the very act of transforming his destiny.
Outside, the wind began to change. The quiet rustle of leaves and the distant, rhythmic hum of nighttime creatures pressed against the thin stone walls of his cave. Fang Jin Yu knew that his time was short—if he was to outwit these schemers and secure even a fraction of the chance to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm, he must act swiftly and decisively over the coming five days.
As he collected his thoughts, an image formed in his mind: that of the elusive Foundation Pill, a sacred drug that could remake one's fate. To many, it was a miracle; to him, it was both a symbol of hope and a cruel reminder of the steep cost demanded by destiny. He recalled whispered legends of cultivators who, with a single Foundation Pill, had reversed their fortunes overnight. And he knew that if he could accumulate even a slight improvement in his martial ability—if he could glean every drop of insight from his present bottleneck—he might find a way to challenge fate on its own terms.
But the truth was far more sobering. Even as he gathered his resolve and prepared to embark on a new phase of self-cultivation, Fang Jin Yu could not help but acknowledge the harsh reality of his world. In Tianling Sect, where every peak held many peers, every opportunity came at a staggering price, and every act of rebellion risked drawing the attention of the most powerful—and the most ruthless—of its denizens. He was well aware that to yield to these pressures was to assume the role of a tragic expendable character—one whose fate was sealed by the endless machinations of the main protagonists. And in his heart, he refused that role.
Yet, as he stepped slowly toward the inner sanctum of his dwelling, the events of the night and the day churned through his mind like an inexorable stream of revelations. The conflict at the door—the clash of wind-blades and the acrid taste of betrayal—was a microcosm of the life he had come to lead. It was a life in which every scrupulous moment of insight, every increment gained from even the most mundane of tasks, was a step against the predetermined odds. Even when the world seemed to conspire to drive him into the background, he found that within the hidden recesses of his mind lay an opportunity: a chance to turn every setback into an advantage.
That night, while the stars wheeled silently overhead and the moon cast long silver shadows upon the rugged peaks of Tianling Sect, Fang Jin Yu made a solemn vow to himself. He would work relentlessly over the next few days—not just to avoid the entanglements of the schemers outside, but to repair the inner fissures in his cultivation method. With every piece of insight scored today, he would draw a new blueprint for a path to the Foundation realm that was uniquely his own—a path free from the undue reliance on expensive Foundation Pills and the capricious dictates of fate.
And so, while the echoes of Lu Shaojun's haughty demands and the angry outbursts of that impulsive junior still resonated faintly in the cool night air, Fang Jin Yu retreated deeper into his cave. There, by the dim light of a flickering oil lamp, he spread out his carefully carved notes and revisited the sequences of his "Wind and Thunder Guidance" technique. He scrutinized each step, each nuance that he had taken for granted. Slowly, as if following a secret instruction manual hidden deep within his own soul, he began piecing together the corrections he needed to implement.
In those quiet hours, time seemed to stretch out endlessly. The only sounds were the scratch of his brush on parchment and the soft sigh of wind through the stone corridors. Every stroke and every revision was both an act of rebellion against the predetermined story and a declaration of faith in his own potential. By the time the first hints of dawn crept into his humble refuge, Fang Jin Yu felt a change internal to him—that same sluggish stagnation of power, previously the bane of his existence, was now being chipped away by his deliberate, focused effort. The insight he had extracted from a day with no obvious gains was turning into a tangible catalyst for improvement.
Yet even as he committed himself to these internal refinements, his thoughts kept returning to the encounter outside—a stark reminder that the world beyond was full of dangers, devious plots, and a hierarchy built on exploitation. The voice of Lu Yifang's plea, the implicit threat of losing not only his quota but also his very chance at a better future, all mingled with the jagged pieces of his newfound clarity. In that interplay of uncertainty and hope, Fang Jin Yu began to see that his journey was not solely about accumulating points or appeasing schemers, but about reclaiming the narrative of his own life.
With the rising sun finally heralding a new day at Tianling Sect, Fang Jin Yu stepped out of his cave with quiet determination. Though the memories of a long, arduous night lingered, his mind was alive with the sparks of insight. He now understood that even a day spent in what appeared to be fruitless cultivation could, in fact, yield profound rewards—if one was wise enough to recognize them.
The next several days promised to be crucial. With the five-day window granted by these emissaries of Chen Baxing looming ever closer, every minute would count as he meticulously revised his cultivation method. He resolved that, rather than succumbing to the pressures of those outside forces demanding his prized quota, he would turn this internal breakthrough into the foundation of a radical leap in power. In this unpredictable, cruel world of sect politics and spiritual duels, reclaiming even a small fragment of control over one's destiny was a victory worth pursuing at all costs.
Thus, as he strode purposefully along the winding mountain paths and scaled back to his mountain residence—his senses still alert to every subtle sound in the cool morning air—Fang Jin Yu silently vowed that he would no longer be the pawn fated only to endure humiliation. Instead, he would use every ounce of insight he had gained to refine his skills and outmaneuver those who sought to manipulate his destiny. Even if the path ahead was fraught with peril and endless challenges, his newly awakened clarity would guide him—and one day, he would step into the Foundation realm not by chance or by paying an astronomical sum, but by his very own skill and perseverance.
In the halls of Tianling Sect, where every peak boasted dozens of cultivators and where fate was decided by the strong and the cunning, Fang Jin Yu's quiet determination and burgeoning insight might very well be the spark needed to set him on a course to defy destiny itself. And though the day had been spent with no visible increase in mystical power, the hidden boon of "+1 Insight" was a reward far more precious than momentary gains—a reward that promised a future where every mistake could be mended and every barrier eventually shattered.