Hao Ren bowed formally, the motion practiced from years of court etiquette. "Yes, Father. I've studied the theoretical foundations extensively. The Qi Condensation realm should allow me to begin gathering and condensing spiritual energy in my dantian, creating the foundation for all future advancement."
Emperor Hao Lanyang smiled—the expression transforming his serious features and reminding the court why the people loved their scholarly ruler. "Theory is important, my son, but cultivation is ultimately about experience. The meridians must learn to channel qi, the dantian must adapt to containing power, and the spirit must grow strong enough to guide both. Tell me, what do you hope to achieve through this path?"
The question carried weight beyond its simple words. Hao Ren knew his answer would be remembered and judged by the assembled court officials, recorded in the imperial histories, and likely influence how his future subjects viewed their prince.
"I wish to grow strong enough to explore beyond our borders," Hao Ren replied honestly, his voice carrying clearly through the silent hall. "To uncover the lost knowledge of higher cultivation realms and perhaps one day bridge the gap between our continent and others. The world is vast, and we remain isolated by more than just oceans. There are truths hidden from us, and I believe it's our duty to seek them out."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some showed approval at the prince's ambitious vision, nodding to each other and whispering words of encouragement. Others exchanged worried glances, their faces reflecting the same fear Elder Wei had shown when discussing forbidden topics. The topic of higher realms and continental exploration was considered taboo by many, associated with dangerous ambitions that had historically led to disaster.
"A noble goal," came a new voice from the shadows near the throne, and every conversation in the hall ceased immediately.
From the darkness beside a marble pillar, a figure emerged that made the entire hall fall silent with respectful dread. Hao Longdi, the Dragon Emperor, stepped into the light with the predatory grace of an apex predator surveying its domain. Though officially retired from active rule, the old man's presence still commanded absolute respect and not a little fear from even the most powerful nobles.
At the Soul Transformation realm, Hao Longdi was among the most powerful cultivators known to exist on the entire continent. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles—a thin line across his left cheek from a demon beast's claw, burn marks on his neck from spiritual fire attacks, and most notably, the three parallel scars over his right eye that he'd earned in single combat with the previous Meng Emperor. His eyes held depths that spoke of terrible decisions made for necessary reasons, and his every movement radiated the confidence of someone who had quite literally carved an empire from blood and bone.
The massacre of the Meng Dynasty's corrupt rulers had earned him his fearsome reputation among the noble classes, but it was his systematic destruction of nine million soldiers in the final battle at Death Valley that had truly cemented his legend among common folk. They whispered that the Dragon Emperor had fought for three days and nights without rest, his sword painting the battlefield crimson until no enemy remained standing.
"Ambition is good, grandson," the Dragon Emperor said, his voice carrying the authority of one who had reshaped the world through violence. "But remember this above all—power without wisdom leads to corruption, and wisdom without power leads to irrelevance. The Meng rulers possessed neither, which is why their bones now fertilize Death Valley and their empire exists only in cautionary tales."
The reminder of the dynasty's bloody founding sent a visible chill through the hall. Death Valley, where the final battle against the Meng Dynasty had taken place forty-five years ago, remained a cursed wasteland where nothing grew except twisted black grass that locals claimed was fed by the blood of the fallen. Even now, travelers reported strange lights and ghostly sounds emanating from that desolate place.
"I understand, Grandfather," Hao Ren replied steadily, meeting the old man's intense gaze without flinching. "Power must serve purpose, not pleasure. A ruler who seeks strength only for its own sake becomes a tyrant, while one who lacks the strength to protect his ideals becomes a victim."
"Excellent." Hao Longdi nodded approvingly, and several courtiers visibly relaxed at this sign of imperial favor. "Now, let us see if you can back your words with action. Court Alchemist Bing, present the Awakening Elixir."
A nervous-looking man in elaborate robes scurried forward from his position near the side wall. Court Alchemist Bing was a thin, anxious individual whose talent for pill refinement was matched only by his talent for worry. His robes were covered in protective charms and spirit beast scales, and his hands shook slightly as he approached the throne carrying a jade bottle that seemed to contain swirling mist rather than liquid.
"Your Imperial Majesty," he said with a bow so deep it was almost prostration, "the Awakening Elixir has been prepared according to the ancient formula. Three drops of morning dew from the highest peak, essence of cloud berry refined under moonlight, and a fragment of spirit crystal dissolved in water from the Dragon's Spring. It will safely guide the young prince through his first attempt at qi gathering while minimizing the risk of meridian damage or spiritual deviation."
The Awakening Elixir was indeed a carefully prepared concoction, the result of centuries of alchemical refinement. Unlike the dangerous methods used in ancient times, where young cultivators often died or suffered permanent damage during their first contact with spiritual energy, the modern elixir provided a gentle introduction to the power that would define the rest of their lives.