It was an unexpected piece of information. But Wei Ji did not linger on it. There's plenty of time to know this world and the past of the man called Young Master Han. For now, cultivation comes first.
He sat cross-legged once more, his breaths steady, his hands forming familiar shapes. His goal was clear—forge a spiritual root in this rootless body.
A mortal frame was fragile, but also strangely adaptable. Just as mortals could drink poison, scar themselves, or endure grueling hardship in order to adapt, so too could their bodies be coaxed into reshaping themselves.
Wei Ji merely guided it into readiness. Now, it was time to send it toward its transformation.
He closed his eyes and drew inward. Slowly, faint threads of Qi—thin, weak, scattered like mist—began to gather at his command. At first it resisted, slipping away like water through open fingers. But Wei Ji was patient, but at the same time, relentless. He forced the strands of Qi through his meridians, each pass carving clearer paths inside this frail vessel.
The body trembled, heat rising across his skin, sweat beading at his temples. Pain stabbed through his chest and stomach, yet he endured. He had long experienced harsher fate. This is not a trivial matter.
Minutes became hours. Wei Ji's focus never wavered. The scattered Qi inside him pressed against the core of his being, bending, shaping, condensing. And then—something stirred. A spark. A root beginning to take form where none had existed before.
His heart gave a thud, startling even him. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the flicker of shock that disturbed his concentration. This… this body was adapting faster than he expected. The root was forming already. He mumbled in disbelief.
Immediately, he calm down. "Not yet," he whispered. He knew his focus was crucial. "Steady. Complete it."
Bit by bit, the formless energy gathered, weaving together like strands of silk until it solidified into something tangible. He felt it settle deep within, the root of all cultivation—the foundation every immortal dream relied on.
At last, his eyes opened. They glinted with sharp light, satisfaction tempered by resolve. "Finally. A root has taken shape."
Without hesitation, he adjusted his position, folding his legs into lotus form. His fingers pressed into a seal, guiding the flow of Qi. Though the surrounding energy was sparse, like thin smoke, it obeyed his call. It crept toward him, drawn into his body, and the newly born root eagerly accepted it.
A faint green glow shimmered at the tips of his fingers. Wei Ji blinked, then chuckled low under his breath. "Plant attribute?"
It was not what he had expected, but he was not disappointed. A spiritual root was a tool, nothing more. Whether plant, metal, fire, or something rarer, its true power came from the one who wielded it.
He pulled more Qi inside, letting it temper his bones, blood, and flesh. His heart pounded louder—boom, boom, boom—each beat striking like a drum, resonating with both body and spirit. A soft glow flickered within his mind's inner space, light blooming as if a lantern had been lit in darkness.
Time slipped away unnoticed. Pain came and went, but so too did strength, settling where the weakness was earlier. Finally, after what felt like an entire night, Wei Ji's eyes snapped open. His body pulsed with renewed life.
"First stage," he muttered, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Body Refinement. Mortal Ascension."
This frail mortal body, once poisoned and rootless, now stood on the path of immortals once more.
Wei Ji exhaled deeply. His gaze hardened as he looked toward the silent door. "Now… it's time to learn about this so-called world of mortals."
…
Outside the pavilion, Wei Ji stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes sweeping over the garden but seeing nothing of its beauty. His mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts he couldn't ignore.
"I was right," he muttered under his breath. "This realm… it isn't Earth."
He knew Earth well enough to dismiss it. Although he never went back there, he knew what kind of lower realm Earth was. It was a closed loop, a strange world sealed in its own infinity, endlessly circling itself like a lemniscate. Even if it was counted among the countless mortal worlds in the Lower Realm, it was still an oddity—cut off, repeating, stagnant. This place, though… this was different. The Qi here, however faint, was proof enough.
"Why am I even thinking about Earth?" he whispered, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. The important thing is where I am now."
Yet despite himself, his gaze drifted upward to the sky. The clear, endless blue stretched above him, and for a moment he felt something cold stir in his chest. For someone unknown reason, his body prickled with unease, the same kind of chill he had once felt when the Demon Queen's armies swept across the Middle Realm, devouring sects like wildfire.
He clenched his fists. "Impossible," he growled. "There are too many smaller worlds. There's no way she's here. And even if by some cursed chance this is her world, she should be busy ravaging the Middle Realm. She wouldn't be here…"
But his muttering grew more agitated, his teeth grinding together. Hatred flared in his chest, burning so hot he thought it might scorch him from the inside. "Damn her. If I keep letting her haunt my thoughts, she'll take root as my inner demon. I'll never cultivate in peace!"
His words cut off suddenly as he sensed movement behind him. He turned, his expression hardening, his tone fierce as he snapped, "Who are you?"
The man startled, then bowed quickly. "I-it's me, young master. Attendant Wu."
Wei Ji narrowed his eyes, watching the man carefully.
Attendant Wu's face was long, worn with years of service, his skin darkened from long days under the sun. His hair was tied neatly in a servant's knot, though strands of gray betrayed his age. He carried himself with the nervous loyalty of someone used to being scolded but unwilling to leave his master's side.
"Still angry about your marriage, young master?" Wu asked with a sigh, his tone cautious but familiar.
Wei Ji let out a sharp snort, slipping into the role of the spoiled young master he had replaced. "Why would I be angry about my marriage?" he said with a mocking edge.
Wu frowned, shaking his head. "Young master, it is your own fault. You've wasted your youth on drink, on pleasure, on brothers, and even took a lot of concubines who give you nothing lasting. And the event with Chen Shaoqi, you finally forced the Master's hand. As a punishment, he bound you to marriage with that ugly woman from the Shen Flame Kingdom."
The words struck like lightning. Wei Ji's body went rigid, every muscle locking in place. His blood ran cold. "What did you say?" he asked slowly, his tone stripped of pretense of earlier. His eyes sharpened, there was a glint of true fear flickering within them. "Which kingdom?"
"The Shen Flame Kingdom," Wu repeated without hesitation.
Wei Ji asked again, "What?"
Wu knitted his brow and replied, "Shen Flame Kingdom, young master."
"Did you just say Shen Flame Kingdom?" Wei Ji asked again, disbelief written all over his face.
Attendant Wu nodded. "Yes, young master, your wife was from Shen Flame Kingdom."