The Queen's order—to strip Jiang Ruochén to commoner and exile him to Mount Yan—left the crowd stunned.
He hadn't triggered the bell, true, but a soul mark had appeared. To bypass the Ancestral Office and the King's nod, and declare exile on the spot… it reeked of injustice.
Surprise didn't mean sympathy. No one would plead for a "waste."
Most simply looked pleased.
"Hah! Exiled to Mount Yan—unprecedented. Has a prince of Zhen'nan ever been sent there before?" Jiang Li laughed loudly.
"Indeed. This waste can at least claim to be the first at something," the Ninth Prince smirked.
"Your Majesty!" Consort Wan stepped forward in distress. "Though my son's soul bears no grade, he has awakened all the same. Please show mercy. Give him a chance. He may yet prove himself."
Cold as winter steel, the Queen barked, "No grade, and you call that a soul? What use is a trash soul! He has shamed the royal house and the Great King. Exile to Mount Yan—no further debate. Who argues invites the royal whip."
The words royal whip sent a chill through the square.
Even so, Consort Wan, weeping, moved to kneel and beg.
Before her knees could touch stone, Jiang Ruochén appeared beside her and took her arm. "Mother, don't beg."
He turned, eyes steady, and faced the Queen. "Jiang Ruochén receives the decree."
"You have a trace of backbone, at least," the Queen snorted. "Since you accept, you depart for Mount Yan tomorrow."
As Qin Qi passed him, she gave him a look of open disgust, as if he were some foul insect.
Jiang Ruochén felt no anger—only a deep, bitter pity for the boy whose life he had inherited. To give and give, and reap only revulsion—without even a flicker of pity—how sad could a heart become?
The Queen withdrew. The ceremony ended. Jiang Ruochén helped Consort Wan back to the Zi Ji Pavilion.
"Chen'er, don't worry," she said through tears. "I won't let them send you to Mount Yan. I'll beg your father for mercy!"
He stopped her gently. "Mother, don't. Mount Yan may not be a bad thing for me."
"Chen'er…" She looked at him, heart aching. She thought he was saying it just to comfort her.
In truth, he meant it. With the Queen branding his soul as trash, staying in the palace would bring no resources, only suppression. Better to leave and face the wilds than be caged and crushed.
Mount Yan was harsh and poor in qi—but beyond the palace walls, the sky was wider, the sea broader, and the Queen's hand shorter.
Consort Wan knew the decree was final. The King was in seclusion; he hadn't even appeared for the most important rite of the year. How could she hope for an audience?
"Then I will go with you," she decided silently, wiping her tears. Whatever came, mother and son would not be parted.
…
"Vein-Opening means absorbing spiritual qi and unsealing the body's nine main meridians."
"One vein, one step of heaven. When the nine gather, qi congeals to form the Qi Sea."
Night fell. Guided by the old dragon, Jiang Ruochén sank his consciousness into the God Burial Tower and began formal cultivation.
He had awakened. Now he could sense the vast qi in the air. Under the old dragon's guidance, he ran the Nine Dragons Divine Codex, drawing qi madly to batter his channels.
The Dragon Soul was formidable, and the codex even more so. Before long—boom—a shackle seemed to smash apart inside him. His first meridian opened. He stepped into Vein-Opening, First Heaven, a true cultivator at last.
"So this is cultivation…"
He rose, marveling at the surge of power coursing through him. Yesterday's body-tempering had helped, but the leap from true cultivation was greater—and undeniable. Strength, sight, hearing—all sharpened severalfold. His body felt light, his steps swift.
Put me back on Blue Star and I'd sweep the Olympics. World Cup? Give me ten pigs and I'd still carry the team.
A misty dragon shadow coalesced. "Not bad, little one. Half an hour to your first breakthrough—faster than I expected," the old dragon said.
"Thank you for your guidance and for the codex, Senior," Jiang Ruochén replied.
The dragon's eyes showed a hint of approval. The codex mattered, yes, but half an hour to first heaven? That was talent and comprehension, through and through.
"Speed is good," the dragon warned, "but pride is poison."
"I understand," Jiang Ruochén said, solemn. "I'll keep absorbing qi and open the second meridian now."
He was hungry to push on, but the dragon lifted a claw to still him.
"Do not rush to the second vein. If you want true strength, you must walk a road others cannot."
"What road is that?" Jiang Ruochén asked.
The dragon drifted around him. "You know of the nine main meridians of Vein-Opening. But have you heard of hidden veins?"
Jiang Ruochén shook his head.
"In truth, the human body has more than nine channels. Around them lie ninety hidden veins. Most people, even straining their whole lives, barely open the nine and step into Qi Sea. A few, one in ten thousand, choose another path—opening as many hidden veins as possible in Vein-Opening to build an unshakable foundation."
Jiang Ruochén's eyes widened. He'd only ever heard that opening the nine main meridians was enough to reach the next realm. Ninety hidden veins? Never.
"Senior, you mean I should pause my climb to Second Heaven and instead forge the foundation—seek out and open the hidden veins?" He caught on quickly.
"Correct. Vein-Opening decides how tall the tower can stand. Without bedrock, even the greatest talent collapses," the dragon said.
Jiang Ruochén considered, then asked, "How do I find and open them?"
"Around each main meridian lie ten hidden veins. Run the Nine Dragons Divine Codex to its limit and turn its sight inward. You will sense them. How many you can open depends on talent—and will stronger than most can muster."
"Ten hidden veins opened marks a prodigy. Twenty, a genius. Fifty, a monster whose name shakes a province. Eighty, a heaven's proud child. As for all ninety-nine channels—the nine main and ninety hidden—no one in history has achieved it."
The dragon halted before him, expectation glinting in those ancient eyes. "Jiang Ruochén, if you would be strong, push the hidden veins as far as you can. I want to see how many you'll tear open."
A tremor ran through Jiang Ruochén's heart. He felt the weight of that expectation—and thought of Consort Wan, of tomorrow's exile to Mount Yan, of family far away on Blue Star. All of it was fuel.
"I understand, Senior."
He sat once more. This time, he didn't immediately drink in qi. He sharpened his inner sight with the newly gained clarity, examining the opened main meridian and searching for the hidden veins that slept beside it…