Dawn filtered through the Northern Mountain in pale strands of gold.
Mist coiled lazily between ancient pine trees, drifting across the fractured clearing where Li Wei stood. The stone platform beneath him was no longer smooth; spiderweb cracks ran through it like scars — silent witnesses to the previous night's transformation.
He opened his eyes.
The world felt different.
Not louder. Not brighter.
Clearer.
Every sound carried weight — the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a spirit bird, the soft pulse of Qi beneath the earth. His body responded to his thoughts without delay, movements smooth yet filled with restrained violence.
He rose slowly to his feet.
Muscle shifted beneath skin that now held a faint, tempered luster. His bones felt dense, grounded. When he inhaled, the air seemed to sink deeper into him, circulating with effortless precision.
He clenched his right hand.
The air around his knuckles tightened.
A faint distortion trembled outward.
"So this is the result…"
He stepped forward into the open clearing.
The stance was simple. Feet planted. Spine straight. Shoulders relaxed.
The Heaven Shattering Fist.
No flourish. No wasted motion. A technique built on dominance — overwhelming force condensed into a single decisive strike.
Qi gathered.
Grey strands of Chaos Qi coiled faintly around his arm, subtle but undeniable. Beneath his skin, golden light pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat — Ancient God bloodline stirring in anticipation.
He punched.
The sound that followed was not merely impact.
It was rupture.
The air split with a thunderous crack as force exploded outward. Ten meters ahead, the earth caved in violently, dirt and stone blasting upward before collapsing into a shallow crater. Trees trembled; leaves cascaded down like startled birds.
Silence followed.
Li Wei lowered his arm slowly, eyes measuring the destruction.
"…Several times stronger."
He had expected improvement.
He had not expected this.
He shifted his footing and struck again — this time deliberately suppressing his strength.
Even so, the ground fractured like brittle glass, jagged lines racing outward before stopping at his will.
His gaze deepened.
With his current physical refinement layered over peak 10th stage Qi Condensation…
A cultivator at the 3rd stage of Foundation Establishment would not easily overpower him.
Perhaps even the 4th stage would find him troublesome.
But he did not smile.
Power was only meaningful if it continued to grow.
The Extreme Realm still lay ahead.
He withdrew his aura completely. The swirling Chaos Qi faded, golden light receded beneath his skin, and the forest exhaled as if released from pressure.
After cleansing himself in a cold mountain stream, he dressed in fresh azure robes — the color of the sect.
Yet on him, they seemed to carry a different weight.
He descended the Northern Mountain unhurriedly.
Disciples along the stone pathways noticed him before he spoke. Something about him had changed. It was not overt strength — he concealed that well — but an aura of depth. A quiet, unfathomable composure.
"Senior Brother Li."
"Greetings, Senior Brother."
He acknowledged each greeting with a slight nod.
No arrogance.
No warmth.
Just calm recognition.
But beneath that calm, calculation moved.
He needed resources.
The Divine Overlord Body Refining Art was brutal in its consumption. Rare metals. Spiritual ores. Essence-infused materials. Each cycle would demand more than the last. And the Primordial Sovereign Scripture required high-grade spiritual fruits if he wished to approach the hidden 11th stage.
He currently possessed 1000 contribution points — reward for ranking first in the entrance assessment.
A strong start.
Nowhere near enough.
Inside the Mission Hall, the air carried the scent of ink and old wood. A massive jade board dominated the central wall, shimmering faintly as missions updated in real time.
Disciples clustered in groups, voices low but animated.
Li Wei stepped forward alone.
His eyes moved steadily down the listings.
Escort missions.
Herb gathering.
Demonic beast suppression.
Then —
His gaze stopped.
Target: Xue Yan.
Evil cultivator.
3rd Stage Foundation Establishment.
Location: Black Marsh Valley.
Reward: 1800 Contribution Points.
Sufficient.
His hand lifted toward the jade slip.
"Withdraw your hand."
The voice was sharp enough to slice through the ambient chatter.
Li Wei paused — not startled, merely delayed.
He turned slightly.
Jin Lei stood a short distance away, arms folded across his chest. Inner disciple robes. Confident posture. A faint hum of Foundation Establishment aura lingered around him like heat above stone.
Twenty-two years old. 2nd Stage Foundation Establishment.
Among inner disciples, respectable talent.
His gaze held no deference.
"You're newly promoted," Jin Lei said evenly. "No matter whose disciple you are, Qi Condensation is still Qi Condensation. That mission isn't for you."
A quiet ripple passed through the hall.
Some disciples watched with pity.
Some with anticipation.
And near the back, leaning casually against a pillar —
Zhuo Hong.
His lips curved faintly upward.
He did not intervene.
He did not need to.
If Li Wei retreated, his newly gained prestige would dim.
If he insisted and failed… even better.
Li Wei regarded Jin Lei calmly.
"And if I don't withdraw?" he asked.
Jin Lei's eyes narrowed.
A wave of aura expanded outward — controlled, but deliberate. The pressure of Foundation Establishment cultivation filled the hall, pressing lightly against surrounding disciples.
It was a reminder.
Of realms.
Of hierarchy.
Of difference.
The aura reached Li Wei.
Touched him.
And dispersed like mist against stone.
He did not shift.
Did not frown.
Did not release even a thread of his own power.
The silence deepened.
Zhuo Hong's faint smile thinned.
Li Wei extended his hand again.
This time, he grasped the jade slip firmly.
"I'll take it," he said.
His voice was not loud.
But it carried.
Jin Lei's jaw tightened.
"You're courting death."
Li Wei turned fully toward him now.
For a moment, something flashed in his eyes — not anger.
Depth.
"If a 3rd stage Foundation Establishment cultivator is enough to kill me," he said quietly, "then the title of Core Disciple means nothing."
The words landed heavier than his tone suggested.
Several disciples felt a chill crawl up their spines.
Jin Lei's confidence wavered — just slightly.
And Zhuo Hong's gaze sharpened.
Interest replaced amusement.
The storm had begun to gather.
And none of them yet understood its scale.