Nothing particularly noteworthy occurred over the next two weeks. Feng Qi's new life consisted of waking each morning to a breakfast he had never tasted, not even during the days when his father was still alive. Afterward, he studied under the tutelage of numerous teachers, alongside other servants. Before noon, he consumed medicinal pills, refining his body and strengthening his foundation.
In the afternoons, many guards, servants, and officials gathered in the military courtyard, spending the rest of their days training and uncovering hidden secrets and techniques.
Feng Qi now followed the steps and strikes of Luo Zixuan. Over the past weeks, he had improved greatly. The clumsy movements and awkward strikes that had once marked his training were corrected by Zixuan and the senior disciples.
Now, his strikes, steps, and movements flowed with the precision of a true warrior.
As the day drew to a close, Zixuan suddenly paused.
The sun kissed the horizon as Luo Zixuan stepped back a few paces, his gaze piercing Feng Qi's very soul. The arena, bathed in amber light and elongated shadows, seemed smaller, as if Zixuan's presence compressed all the space around him.
"From this moment on, there will be no more lessons. Only confrontations," Luo Zixuan declared, his voice firm, lacking any trace of enthusiasm, yet imbued with absolute authority.
Feng Qi nodded, feeling the weight of the decision. He knew he was at the limits of his abilities. His techniques were powerful, comparable to a 7th Layer Warrior, yet he was about to face someone who relied not on brute strength alone. Luo Zixuan was a living encyclopedia of combat, observation, and strategy.
The arena fell into an uncanny silence, as if no living soul remained, the wind stirring lightly, tugging at the edges of their robes and the branches above.
With an almost imperceptible movement, Luo Zixuan advanced. The first contact was silent, swift—a test of reflexes. Feng Qi leapt back, evading strikes that sought not to harm, but to map the patterns of his body and breathing. Every step, every hand movement from Luo Zixuan seemed to adjust gravity, the wind, and even the arena itself.
Feng Qi countered with a flurry of strikes, blending strength and speed. His fists sliced through the air; his legs moved as though the arena itself extended from his body. Yet, with every attack, Luo Zixuan flowed like water—never opposing force directly, only redirecting it. A blow that seemed devastating was deflected with a mere fingertip; another repelled by a subtle twist of the wrist, almost imperceptible.
"You rely too much on strength. True power lies in perceiving the void between attacks," Luo Zixuan whispered, his sword sending Feng Qi staggering backward.
Despite weeks of tireless sword training, Feng Qi, now wielding it like a warrior, still felt like a child before Zixuan. Frustration rose within him, yet with each movement he learned, even without fully comprehending. Every step of Luo Zixuan demonstrated something that neither power nor speed could surpass. Experience, absolute precision, and the ability to anticipate the flow of battle determined victory.
At the climax of the duel, Feng Qi launched a final assault—a combination of strength and technique that would normally crush any opponent. Yet, with a simple body shift and a faint touch of his hand to the ground, Luo Zixuan disrupted Feng Qi's rhythm, unbalancing and toppling him.
Feng Qi fell to his knees, gasping, yet his chest swelled with respect and admiration. Luo Zixuan stood unmoving, solid, unyielding—a living wall protecting Bai Lan and all under his charge.
"It is not strength that wins a battle, Zhao Long. It is perception, patience, and adaptation. Today, you have learned this," Zixuan said. "To protect our lady, only a warrior of indomitable heart can do so. Only the mind can bridge the gap between you and your enemies. Even if your body is pierced by spears or limbs severed, if your mind remains steadfast, the battle continues. Victory will be within your sight. Understand this."
The arena remained silent, only the wind brushing lightly against their black robes. The day ended, yet Zixuan's lesson lingered. Strength is but a fragment of the path; true mastery lies in the mind that guides it.
Feng Qi gazed at him, realizing that while his power rivaled the 7th Layer, in the arena, the world bent to Luo Zixuan's experience and technique—a guardian who not only protected but shaped and guided those under his care.
"You are indeed stronger than me; your body is as hard as stone, and my hands ache as if striking iron. But what you lack is not strength or endurance… it is your mind," Luo Zixuan said.
At that moment, something within Feng Qi broke open. A light of understanding ascended like a staircase, and above, he glimpsed a sky far larger than he had imagined. What he lacked, he realized, was experience. In the city arenas, he had begun correctly, but he had been distracted by tools and techniques. No one can reach absolution without accepting their own mind.
"I understand… I understand now," Feng Qi murmured, kneeling, head bowed. There was no trace of sorrow; this was enlightenment. He felt an urgent need to learn, a burning passion, a calling that could not be extinguished. Nothing could shake his resolve.
His chest rose and fell, breaths steadying as he processed every movement of Luo Zixuan in his mind, each strike and subtle shift still dancing around him as if he could feel the air bending around the guardian.
Zixuan said nothing immediately. He approached, his black cloak drifting in the breeze, and lightly touched Feng Qi's shoulder. The contact was firm yet calm—a silent affirmation that he remained whole, and that the lesson had been imparted without humiliation.
"Rise, Zhao Long," he commanded, calm yet laden with weight and expectation.
Feng Qi obeyed, body still sore, but mind more awakened than ever. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling each step, each evasion, each subtle touch of Zixuan. Slowly, he reconstructed the movements mentally, not only imagining how to avoid them but how to internalize the essence of energy flow, balance, and anticipation.
"Brute strength merely forces the path. True technique creates it," he murmured to himself, repeating Zixuan's words.
With measured breathing, Feng Qi stepped forward, assuming the stance Zixuan had used to unbalance him. He shifted his feet, adjusted his shoulders, and sensed the wind brushing against the invisible blade of perception. Each movement sought the intersection of strength and technique—not to defeat Luo Zixuan, but to measure himself.
Zixuan watched silently, eyes sharp, but did not intervene. This was no longer a test; it was the transmission of knowledge. The guardian allowed Feng Qi to learn through practice, absorbing the rhythm and precision only years of experience could teach.
When Feng Qi executed the final step, blending speed and anticipation, Zixuan offered the faintest of smiles and stepped back, allowing Feng Qi to sense the void left by the subtle shift of the guardian's body.
"Very good," Luo Zixuan said, voice firm yet approving. "You did not win by strength, but you understood the rhythm. That is the difference between talent and mastery."
Feng Qi inhaled deeply, clarity coursing through body and mind. For the first time, he realized that strength was merely superficial. The true path of a cultivator required perception, timing, and adaptation.
As night fell over the arena, Luo Zixuan shifted aside, maintaining the unwavering stance of a guardian. Feng Qi felt a change within himself—respect for his mentor blending with newfound confidence and deep gratitude.
By dawn, Feng Qi donned the Mansion's official attire—not the humble clothing he had worn before. The black garment, cinched with crimson ties, was woven from a rare and expensive fabric, unattainable in ordinary markets.
He and the two bodyguards escorted a beautiful young lady to the Mansion's main hall.
Throughout the week, Feng Qi had remembered Bai Lan's promise to teach him the Steps of the Azure Wave, yet it remained unfulfilled. He longed to learn these steps fully. While Luo Zixuan's techniques had incorporated traces of the Azure Wave, Feng Qi still needed to master the complete art.
Despite losing the duel against Luo Zixuan, Feng Qi could now match warriors of the 8th Layer. Only the Guardian remained unchallenged at the peak, a true monster.
His cultivation had reached a barrier about a week prior. Since then, he had focused on refining and consolidating his foundation, awaiting the opportunity to break through to the 5th Layer.
In recent days, Feng Qi had accompanied the young lady to many places without incident. But today, something stirred.
"What is it you wish to say?" Bai Lan asked, her expression somber.
Before her stood her father, clutching a stack of documents. He crumpled a letter he had just read, his expression grim. Recently, Bai Lan had been invited by the Great Tian Family to attend an important ancestral ceremony honoring Tian Zhenyu, while the Han Family simultaneously sent a marriage proposal.
Though this might have pleased Bai Tianheng, the Han Family was unwelcome, as was the Tian Family. Both were allies, always scheming to leverage power against him.
These two families controlled a portion of Qingyao City and maintained connections with influential figures in the Chenyang Empire. Monopolies, law violations, bribes, and an extensive network of black market trade were all under their domain.
Within Qingyao, the Han and Tian families were among the most powerful forces. Many members specialized in Qi Condensation, and some elders had even reached the Formation of the Core.
The Governor still retained some control through his ties to the Imperial Court, yet he feared surprises. Now, the joint maneuver by the Han and Tian families suggested collusion. Even a child could see that something deeper was at play.
"Of course I will refuse!" Bai Tianheng exclaimed.
"But Father, I heard Tian Ming has connections with high officials and maintains cooperative relations. He could secure his monopoly over the city's markets and gradually undermine our influence… Even the Black Market is under their sway. Controlling 80% of the Han Family, they could place us in a precarious position," Bai Lan explained.
"Those bastards!" Bai Tianheng roared. "I am sorry, my daughter. Had you possessed powerful guards at the time, things would not have come to this."
Months before Feng Qi's arrival, Bai Lan had been harassed by the Han Family, even targeted by a member claiming to have fallen in love at first sight.
"That scoundrel is clearly lying! Han Yucheng is damned," Bai Lan shouted. "It's a plan orchestrated by someone behind him to unite our families and undermine our control over the city."
"The real problem is Tian Ming," Bai Tianheng said. "He is your age but already remarkable. His cultivation is at the 4th Layer of Qi Refinement, and he commands respect among the Great Families. With support from his father, Tian Wenzhao, he maintains commercial and diplomatic ties with high officials… This is a major concern."
The aim of both families was simple: control Qingyao and the surrounding plains. To achieve this, they sought the power held by the Bai Family—the possession of the Imperial Seal. If successful, they could slowly establish a new reign beneath the Empire's gaze, aided by traitorous officials.
The Imperial Court itself was in decline, challenged by the rise of immortal cultivators and Northern Sects, with its authority waning. Traitors seeking easy wealth would be the first to stage a coup.
Even the maneuvers of Qingyao's Great Families were likely orchestrated by yet another, unseen hand.
Feng Qi was not training or strengthening his foundation at that moment, but he was far from idle. He absorbed secrets and mysteries pervading the region. He now understood that no Nascent Soul cultivators existed in the Southern Region, though traces of Golden Core practitioners remained.
In general, the Southern Region's strength was minor compared to the rest of the continent. After a year of service to the Governor, Feng Qi planned to depart for the Empire, where he could advance to Qi Refinement or Qi Condensation before returning south.
Feng Qi studied and observed the state of the world. Surrounded by countless books in the pavilions outside, he also had access to privileged and secret information as the bodyguard of the Governor's daughter.
"There exists a cultivation realm beyond Nascent Soul, called Formation of the Soul. While a Nascent Soul leaves the body briefly, a Formation of the Soul practitioner can abandon their own body to occupy another," Feng Qi pondered, eyes fixed on father and daughter. "No records exist of a higher realm, so I surmise this is the power of the Shanyue Continent."
There were many continents in the world, most scarcely documented. The most important and possibly strongest, Tianlu, lay adjacent to Shanyue, with only fleeting contact over the last ten thousand years.
"Though I do not yet understand cultivation's limits, I am certain a realm above Formation of the Soul exists… It will take time to reach, but it is not impossible!" Feng Qi's heart brimmed with an unusual confidence. He feared the world and its mysteries, yet longed to explore and ascend to unimaginable heights.
Questions, desires, curiosity, and ambition swirled within him, forming a dense aura around his body. Slowly, Feng Qi transformed under its influence—the aura of freedom, exploration, life, and the world itself.
His gaze lowered, eyes half-closed, staring into the void, navigating endless possibilities. He refined his current knowledge while yearning for more.
"Go to the Tian Family, speak with Tian Ming, and try to win his favor," Bai Tianheng instructed.