The moon cast a silver glow through the single window of Barrack 32, illuminating a scene of quiet, focused intensity. Alex, after spending what he would consider too much time convincing Finne to go home, sat cross-legged on the floor, the last twenty of his low-grade spirit stones arranged in a neat circle before him. They pulsed with a gentle, ethereal light, the final remnants of his hard-earned fortune. In his inventory, he had a small stock of recovery pills and nothing more. Tomorrow, he would be a hunter, but tonight, he was a cultivator on the edge of poverty.
He had one goal: to get as close to the third stage of the Foundation Establishment Realm as he could. With a deep breath, he began to draw upon the stones, pulling the cool streams of spiritual energy into his body. The Immortal's Qi Cultivation Technique went to work, its impossibly pure, golden-tinged pathways refining the energy with practiced efficiency. One by one, the stones dimmed, their light extinguished as their essence was consumed.
It wasn't long until the last stone turned to a dull, inert crystal. Alex opened his eyes, a faint sigh escaping his lips. He checked his internal status. The breakthrough was still a distant shore. The twenty stones had only pushed his progress another forty percent toward Stage 3.
"It's getting slower," he murmured to the empty cabin. He could feel it with each session. Now that he was in the Foundation Establishment Realm, the amount of Qi needed to advance each stage had grown exponentially. It was like trying to fill a lake with a teacup. Spirit stones weren't a luxury anymore; they were a necessity.
He gathered the depleted crystals, their strange, persistent forms a constant puzzle. He opened a small, repaired wooden trunk at the foot of his cot and placed them inside with the others. The collection of dull, glassy rocks was growing. Still having no clue what to do with them, he left them for another day.
Right now, he had a more pressing problem. He had four quests to complete, and while the beasts were low-level, he felt a familiar, gnawing unease. The spar with Kai Jin had shown him the vast, terrifying gap between his own power and that of a true expert. He was strong for his level, yes, but was he strong enough?
He wondered if there was anything else he could do to prepare. His gaze turned inward, past his dantian, to the silent, intimidating artifact that floated in the void of his Sea of Consciousness. The Millstone of Transmigration.
'I can endure it longer now,' he thought, recalling the terrifying, soul-scouring process. His breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment Realm hadn't just strengthened his body and Qi, but his spiritual foundation, his very consciousness, felt more solid, more resilient. The first time, he had blacked out almost instantly. This time, maybe he could hold on.
He steeled himself. This was a different kind of training, a trial not of the body, but of willpower. Closing his eyes, he dove deep within himself and approached the colossal stone wheel.
The moment his consciousness drew near, the stones roared to life, spinning furiously in opposite directions. The irresistible vortex of power erupted from the glowing seam between them, grabbing hold of his spirit. He didn't fight it this time; he braced for it.
The feeling was not physical pain. It was something far more profound, more terrifying. It was the sensation of being erased. A deafening silence pressed in, a pressure that felt like the friction of existence itself grinding against his consciousness. He felt his very soul be ground down to what felt like nothing. It was an agonizing purification, a forced release of every mental and spiritual attachment that made him Alex Steele. He clung to the core of his being with every ounce of his will, a lone sailor lashed to the mast in a soul-devouring hurricane.
He lasted an entire hour before his consciousness frayed to its limit. With a final, desperate heave, he ripped his spirit free from the vortex and gasped for air in the real world, his body trembling, sweat beading on his forehead. His mind felt scoured clean, raw, empty, but also incredibly sharp and clear. He immediately checked his status.
Qi: 650 / 665
A fifteen-point increase to his maximum capacity. It had worked, but to only increase by fifteen after an excruciating hour left Alex feeling slightly sour.
He took several deep, shuddering breaths, allowing the phantom sensations to fade. His mind was too raw to attempt another session immediately. But his body felt fine. He wouldn't waste the time. He shifted his posture and began to cycle the Immortal's Body Refinement Technique. The gentle, blissful warmth was a welcome balm after the Millstone's brutal trial. It was a soothing current that nurtured his bones and muscles, a restorative meditation that allowed his frayed mind to knit itself back together.
When the last tremor of his spirit had settled, he opened his eyes, his resolve hardened. He needed more. He needed every advantage he could get.
He dove back in.
He repeated the process. One grueling hour in the Millstone, followed by a period of Body Refinement while his mind recovered. The second session was just as agonizing, but he held on, his teeth gritted, focused on a single, burning thought: survive. He felt his capacity tick upward again. Then a third time. He was no longer just enduring; he was fighting, pushing his spiritual limits with the same desperate grit he used in a physical battle. On the fourth attempt, he felt something give way. He checked his status, his breath catching in his throat.
Qi: 650 / 710
He had broken the 700 threshold. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental. It was a tangible reward for enduring an unimaginable trial. Alex had no idea, but he had nearly seven times the Qi capacity of the average cultivator of the same level
Exhausted but satisfied, he spent the rest of the night in a state of deep cultivation, drawing in the ambient Qi from the world around him, painstakingly filling the new, expanded vessel he had just carved for himself, one wisp of energy at a time. By the time the first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in his cabin walls, his reserves were full, his spirit was honed to a razor's edge, and his body hummed with a quiet, resonant power.
By the time the first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in his cabin walls, Alex's reserves were full, his spirit was honed to a razor's edge, and his body hummed with a quiet, resonant power. He was ready.
Alex stood and stretched, feeling the solid strength in his Ironbones. He had four missions to complete, and there was no time to waste. He strode to the door and swung it open, ready to face the day.
And came face-to-face with Finne, who was standing patiently on his stone path, holding a small, silk-wrapped package.
Alex blinked. "Finne? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home."
Finne beamed, undeterred by the less-than-enthusiastic greeting. "I did go home, Brother! And I rose extra early to prepare these for your journey. A true brother does not let his brother face danger unprepared." He held out the package.
Alex sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Finne, we talked about this. I'm taking these quests on by myself. It's for training."
"I know," Finne said, his expression earnest. "My presence would only be a hindrance to your profound training methods. The others... they agreed to let you walk your own path." His face grew serious, a flicker of genuine devotion in his eyes. "But how could I, Finne, do nothing? How could I rest while my sworn brother ventures out to face peril?"
He pushed the package into Alex's hands. "I know they are nothing compared to your creations, but I stayed up all night brewing them. Two mid-grade recovery pills and a high-quality healing salve. It is a meager offering, but if it can provide even a sliver of aid, I could not have stayed my hand."
Alex looked down at the carefully wrapped package. The sincerity in Finne's voice was undeniable. This wasn't just some sycophant trying to gain favor, but it was a gesture of genuine, if over-the-top, friendship. The frustration Alex had felt began to melt away, replaced by a weary sort of acceptance.
"Thanks, Finne," Alex said, his voice softer now. He accepted the gift. "I appreciate it."
He looked at Finne's eager, expectant face and realized he had to be clear. A simple "thank you" wasn't enough. He had to give him a direction, a purpose, or Finne would be waiting on his doorstep every morning.
"If you really want to help," Alex said, his voice turning serious, "the best way you can do that is by not falling behind."
Finne looked confused. "Brother?"
"I'm aiming for the top, Finne," Alex said, his gaze turning towards the inner sect peaks, a fire of ambition in his eyes that Finne had never seen before. "Not just of this sect, but higher. It's going to be a long, dangerous road. I can't be looking over my shoulder to see if you can keep up." He met Finne's gaze, his words no longer harsh, but a genuine challenge. "If you want to stand with me, then get stronger. Master your alchemy. Push your cultivation. Become someone I can rely on when a real fight begins. That's how you can help me."
Alex turned and walked away, not looking back. He knew it might have sounded harsh, but it was the truth. He didn't need a puppy chasing him around. He needed an equal.
Finne stood on the stone path, clutching the empty space where the package had been. He stared at Alex's retreating form, and tears began to well in his eyes. He wasn't hurt. He was inspired. His brother wasn't pushing him away; he was showing him the path. He was acknowledging him, not as a follower, but as a future ally. A true brother. He had given him a goal, a purpose.
A fierce, burning resolve solidified in Finne's heart. He would not be a burden. He would not be left behind. He would become a grandmaster alchemist, a cultivator his brother could be proud of.
He turned, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, and broke into a dead sprint back towards his own workshop in the Alchemist's Pavilion. He had a lot of work to do.
Alex, clearing his mind of Finne, focused on the task at hand. He had four missions to complete, and with the sun already climbing in the sky, there was no time to waste. He pulled the four quest parchments from his storage ring, his eyes scanning the simple, unglamorous tasks laid out before him: aggressive finches, a stubborn tortoise, a pack of badgers, and a thieving shadowcat.
His decision wasn't based on which beast was the most dangerous or which reward was the most lucrative. It was a matter of simple logistics. The orchards were in the far west, the tortoise was a half-day's walk upriver. The badgers, however, were plaguing the sect's own southern farm walls, barely outside the main grounds.
"Might as well start with the shortest commute," he thought, a wry, practical smile touching his lips.
He carefully tucked the other three parchments away and changed his direction, his steps firm with a new, solitary purpose. The hunt had begun.