Li Yan stepped forward and approached a concealed cave entrance hidden behind a curtain of hanging vines. Brushing them aside, he entered the shaded interior without hesitation.
The cave was dry and spacious, its interior naturally shielded from external disturbances. The air was still, undisturbed, and ideal for preparation.
With a flick of his wrist, four metal bands appeared midair before descending steadily to the ground. They landed with soft, controlled thuds, faint ripples of Qi spreading across their surfaces.
The White Star Training Rings.
Li Yan crouched beside them, his gaze focused and analytical as he examined their structure. Each ring gleamed with refined craftsmanship, smooth and balanced, marked by five star-shaped engravings spiraling along its surface.
"I can't begin full body cultivation yet," he thought calmly. "But I can prepare my body for it."
His finger traced one of the stars, recalling the details Yao Fuhuo had explained.
Each star represented a weight increment—fifty jin per activation. A fully activated ring would impose 250 jin of pressure, distributed evenly across the body.
With four rings, one for each limb, the total burden could reach one thousand jin.
More than sufficient for foundational conditioning.
"I'll start with one star each," he calculated, his mind precise and controlled. "Two hundred jin in total… enough to strain the body without exceeding my limits."
It wasn't merely about strengthening the body; it was about laying a foundation that would not crumble under future strain. Body cultivation differed entirely from Qi cultivation, demanding pain, endurance, and unyielding will forged directly into flesh and bone.
And Li Yan had no intention of beginning such a path unprepared.
With a slow, controlled breath, he extended his palm and guided a thin thread of Qi into each White Star Training Ring. As his energy entered, faint runes flickered briefly across their surfaces before settling into stillness.
The connection formed instantly.
The rings recognized him.
Without hesitation, he slipped two onto his wrists and two onto his ankles. The cold metal sealed into place with soft, decisive clicks, not restraints forced upon him, but burdens he chose to carry.
After a few moments, those rings disappeared as if he hadn't worn them. Drawing in a steady breath, Li Yan activated a single star on each ring through his Qi.
A quiet pulse followed.
At once, they appeared as a dull weight settled into his limbs, dragging subtly at his muscles and joints before disappearing. Fifty jin per limb, two hundred jin in total. Noticeable, but far from overwhelming.
He raised his right arm slowly.
Resistance met him immediately, like pushing through dense water. Yet the motion remained controlled, his strength sufficient to bear the load without instability.
"Acceptable," he thought calmly. "At the peak of Qi Refining Realm (Stage-2), this level is manageable."
His mind assessed further.
The earlier body tempering he had undergone, combined with his Earth element's natural stability, had already strengthened his tendons and bones; months of relentless combat training had refined his endurance beyond ordinary standards.
Without those advantages, even this weight would hinder most cultivators at his level.
But Li Yan wasn't counted among the most cultivators.
A flicker of curiosity surfaced. Comfort held no value here.
He activated the second star on each ring. Another pulse followed, heavier this time.
The additional two hundred jin pressed down instantly, forcing his shoulders to dip and his footing to falter. His limbs dragged, his muscles protesting under the sudden increase, his balance disrupted.
He attempted to move.
His arm lifted halfway before trembling. "This isn't workable," he concluded.
His body had not yet adapted.
Without hesitation, he deactivated the second star across all four rings. The pressure eased, and his circulation responded immediately, warmth spreading back through his limbs.
"I need to develop my body at two hundred jin first," he decided.
There would be no shortcuts.
Stepping forward, Li Yan began moving slowly within the cave. Each step was deliberate, each motion controlled. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his posture, and allowed his body to adapt naturally to the burden.
Gradually, his movements steadied.
Then, without pause, he summoned his sword.
A faint silver arc flashed as the blade formed in his grasp. He began swinging it in slow, measured motions, each strike deliberate, each adjustment precise.
The added weight transformed every movement.
Each swing demanded more effort. Each shift in stance exposed inefficiencies. Each breath had to align perfectly with motion, or the imbalance would surface immediately.
This was not simple training.
It was refinement under pressure.
For the next hour, Li Yan continued without interruption. He stepped, pivoted, slashed, and thrust, repeating the sequence with unwavering focus as sweat gathered across his brow.
Yet his gaze remained calm.
Unshaken.
Eventually, he slowed and lowered the blade slightly, his eyes drifting to the ring on his right arm.
"Let's test the threshold again."
With a controlled pulse of Qi, he activated the second star on that single ring. The weight on his right arm doubled instantly.
His grip tightened.
The sword felt heavier, his muscles straining under the uneven burden. He swung once, then again, forcing the motion through resistance that disrupted his balance and precision.
A third attempt followed.
The result was clear.
His form broke.
The added weight compromised his control, turning precision into strain.
He exhaled slowly.
"No rush." Without hesitation, he deactivated the second star, returning the total load to two hundred jin. His movements steadied immediately, his balance restored.
The conclusion was simple.
Progress would come through patience, not force.
With his limits established and his training method set, Li Yan sheathed his sword and stepped out of the cave, ready to begin the hunt under the weight of his chosen burden.
The Hunting Ground received him like a living organism, vast and watchful. Dense foliage framed his path, and the air carried the scent of moss, wildflowers, and Qi-saturated dew that lingered on every surface.
Insects droned in layered rhythms, birds scattered through the canopy, and somewhere deeper within, a low growl echoed—distant, heavy, and full of warning.
Every step now carries weight.
Not metaphorical. Real.
The White Star Training Rings couldn't be seen with physical eyes, but they turned Li Yan's even the simplest motion into a deliberate effort. Muscles tightened, joints adjusted, and balance demanded constant awareness.
Yet instead of slowing him, it refined him.
Li Yan advanced steadily, each step measured, each shift of weight controlled. The burden forced precision into his movements, stripping away waste and inefficiency with quiet insistence.
Every motion became training.
Every breath became discipline.
The rings were not restraints.
They were instructors.
Their pressure guided him, corrected him, shaped him.
And as he moved deeper into the Hunting Ground, his senses sharpened under the strain. The added weight demanded focus, and in that focus, the world revealed itself with greater clarity.
The faint sway of branches.
The subtle shift in wind direction.
The distant vibration of movement through the soil.
Nothing escaped him.
Then—
A disturbance.
Li Yan stopped.
His Spiritual Sense expanded instantly, sweeping across the surrounding fifty-meter radius. Within seconds, a presence revealed itself—low to the ground, coiled, patient, waiting.
A predator.
Hidden.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"There."
Without a sound, he shifted his stance, adjusting his grip on the sword as his body aligned with the direction of the threat.
The attack came first.
A blur of motion burst from the undergrowth as a Thunderclaw Leopard lunged forward, its body crackling faintly with arcs of blue lightning. Its speed was explosive, its claws aimed directly for his throat.
Li Yan moved.
Not fast.
Precise.
With a slight pivot of his foot, he shifted his center of gravity and let the beast's momentum carry it past him. Even under the weight of the rings, his timing remained flawless.
The leopard's claws tore through empty air.
In that instant, Li Yan's blade moved.
A single horizontal slash cut across its flank, the edge biting deep as Darkness Qi followed through the wound like a shadow sinking into flesh.
The beast howled.
It landed, twisted, and turned again with feral speed, electricity surging along its limbs as it prepared a second strike.
This time, it didn't hesitate.
It vanished.
A burst of lightning scattered across the ground as the leopard reappeared behind him, claws descending in a lethal arc.
Li Yan didn't turn.
He stepped forward.
The attack missed him by a hair's breadth.
At the same time, his body rotated, sword rising in a controlled upward strike that intercepted the beast mid-motion. The blade carved upward through muscle, forcing the creature back with a sharp, violent recoil.
The weight slowed him.
But it also grounded him.
Every movement was anchored.
Every strike is deliberate.
The leopard circled now, cautious, its earlier aggression tempered by pain. Electricity flickered across its body in unstable bursts, its breathing heavy, its instincts sharpening.
Li Yan exhaled slowly.
Then he advanced.
Step by step.
Closing the distance.
The beast lunged again, faster this time, committing fully to the kill.
Li Yan met it head-on.
His sword moved in a clean diagonal arc, cutting through the incoming strike with precision. The blade met resistance for a fraction of a second—
Then broke through.
The strike cleaved across the leopard's neck, severing the flow of Qi that sustained its movement. Its body collapsed mid-charge, momentum carrying it forward before crashing heavily against the forest floor.
Silence followed.
Li Yan stood still, his breath steady despite the exertion. The added weight pressed against his limbs, but his posture remained composed, his control unshaken.
He lowered his sword.
"It's slower," he observed quietly. "But cleaner."
The burden had cost him speed.
But it had sharpened everything else.
With a practiced motion, he knelt and picked up the Tier-2 beast core, its faint glow pulsing with residual energy. He stored the beast's core and body without hesitation, rising smoothly despite the weight.
Without looking back, Li Yan stepped deeper into the Hunting Ground, the weight still pressing against him, the lesson still ongoing, and the hunt far from over.
*****
Li Yan's hunting routine continued without interruption across the vast expanse of the Tier-2 Hunting Ground. Day and night blurred together beneath endless battles, his focus fixed entirely upon one objective—collecting five thousand Tier-2 Magical Beast Cores.
He no longer divided his attention.
No alchemy.
No distractions.
Only hunting.
Days passed beneath shifting skies and bloodstained forests. Dawn often found him stalking through mist-covered terrain, while midnight witnessed his blade flashing beneath silver moonlight against charging beasts.
The routine was relentless.
Fight.
Recover.
Advance.
Repeat.
And with each passing battle, Li Yan adapted further to the burden of the White Star Training Rings. The constant weight no longer felt foreign upon his limbs. Instead, it became part of his movement, integrated naturally into every step and strike.
Eventually, the first star was no longer enough.
Then the second.
By the end of the second month, Li Yan had activated the third star on each ring, raising the burden to one hundred and fifty jin per limb—six hundred jin across his entire body.
A burden that would cripple most cultivators at his level had become his baseline.
The added weight sharpened his body continuously, strengthening muscles, tendons, joints, and endurance through constant strain. Every battle became both survival and refinement.
And the results were undeniable.
His movements grew denser with power.
His footing became immovable.
Even his sword strikes carried a heavier, more grounded force than before. Time passed not in days, but in progress measured through effort and endurance.
Two and a half months slipped by. By then, Li Yan had completed the task, a part of the main task. Five thousand Tier-2 Beast Cores.
Enough to qualify for the promised knowledge of Soul Cultivation.
At the same time, his cultivation advanced steadily.
Without relying on the Fire Mine, Li Yan progressed naturally from the peak of Qi Refining Realm (Stage-2) to Qi Refining Realm (Stage-4), stabilizing each breakthrough through repeated combat and disciplined cultivation.
The progress came slowly, but solidly.
He cultivated whenever opportunities arose—during brief moments of meditation after battle, while restoring depleted Qi reserves, or while refining the growing Killing Aura within his body.
Everything became part of cultivation.
Even exhaustion.
During that period, he returned to the sect only when necessary—when fatigue pressed too deeply into his body, when supplies ran low, or when his storage ring reached its limit from accumulated beast corpses.
Each return remained brief.
Purposeful.
He would sell beast corpses, replenish necessities, rest only enough to refresh his mind, then depart once more into the wilderness without hesitation.
The Hunting Ground had become his true training ground.
A forge of blood and pressure.
And within that forge, Li Yan continued to sharpen himself.