Fourth stage. Fifth stage. Sixth stage.
The breakthroughs came one after another, each one requiring exponentially more energy than the last but still progressing with shocking speed.
The medicinal herbs were consumed next, their centuries of accumulated essence extracted and absorbed in seconds. Resources that should have required careful preparation and processing simply dissolved under his ability's influence, their every benefit captured without waste.
Seventh stage. Eighth stage.
The cultivation vortex had become visible now, a swirling pattern of concentrated spiritual energy that made the air inside the cabin shimmer like heat haze.
Nova's body glowed faintly with internal light as massive amounts of spiritual energy were compressed into his dantian, each stage being filled to absolute capacity before the breakthrough to the next.
Finally, hours after he'd begun, Nova felt the last of the resources dissolve into pure qi.
And with a final push, he broke through to ninth stage Qi Refining.
The vortex dissipated as Nova ceased active absorption, the spiritual energy of the area beginning to normalize.
He opened his eyes, which glowed briefly with inner light before returning to normal.
Ninth stage. In a single cultivation session. Starting from first stage.
The amount of energy he'd consumed would have sustained a normal cultivator for years, possibly decades. And he'd processed it all in hours.
Nova took a deep breath, examining his cultivation base with his spiritual sense.
Perfect. Absolutely flawless. Each stage compressed to maximum density, the foundation showing no signs of instability despite the rapid advancement.
His Perfect Foundation ability had ensured that rushing through eight stages in one session caused no problems whatsoever.
"Well," Nova said, standing and stretching. His body moved with fluid grace, every muscle responding with perfect coordination. "That was productive."
He glanced around at the empty storage ring and the pile of dust that had once been valuable cultivation resources.
Then he paused, frowning slightly.
Someone was coming.
His enhanced senses had picked up multiple presences approaching—three people, moving with the purposeful stride of those on official business.
Nova moved to the door and opened it before they could knock.
Three men stood outside his cabin, all wearing the distinctive brown robes of the Menial Labor Department. The one in front was older, perhaps fifty, with the bearing of someone in a position of minor authority. The two behind him were younger, likely Utility Disciples assigned to assist with whatever task had brought them here.
All three froze when they saw Nova.
The older man—Supervisor Rowan Valen, according to the jade token at his waist—stared with his mouth slightly open. The two younger disciples had similar expressions of shock.
"This..." Rowan Valen began, then seemed unable to continue.
One of the younger disciples found his voice first, though it came out as a shocked whisper: "Are you... Nova? Nova Solis?"
"Yes," Nova confirmed simply. "What can I do for you?"
"But... but how?" The disciple gestured helplessly at Nova's transformed appearance. "You were on your death bed just days ago. You were supposed to be... we came to..."
He trailed off, apparently unable to finish the sentence.
"You came to collect my body," Nova finished for him. Understanding dawned. The Menial Labor Department, expecting him to have died, had sent people to dispose of the corpse. "I apologize for the wasted trip."
Rowan recovered first, his expression shifting from shock to something more guarded. His eyes raked over Nova's transformed appearance—the impossible youth, the otherworldly beauty, the aura of barely contained power.
"What happened to you?" the supervisor asked bluntly.
Nova considered his answer carefully. The truth was impossible to reveal. But he needed something believable, something that would explain his survival and transformation without inviting too much scrutiny.
"The Sect Leader granted me resources," Nova said finally. "A technique suitable for my constitution and pills to restore my vitality. It seems they were more effective than expected."
It was technically true, if wildly incomplete.
Rowan's eyes narrowed. "The Sect Leader? Personally?"
"Yes."
The supervisor's expression became complicated. Behind him, the two younger disciples exchanged glances, clearly trying to process what this meant.
A servant—a lowly, dying servant—had received personal attention and resources from Luna Ophelia herself. That was unprecedented. Unheard of. It suggested a connection that went beyond normal sect hierarchy.
And looking at Nova now, transformed into someone who looked like a descended immortal despite supposedly being a trash-tier cultivator, that connection took on disturbing implications.
"I see," Zhao Donghai said slowly. "Well then. Since you're clearly not dead, we'll return and update the records accordingly. I'm... glad to see you recovered."
The words were polite, but Nova could see the calculation in the supervisor's eyes. This situation would be reported up the chain. Questions would be asked.
But that was inevitable anyway. He couldn't hide his transformation, not when he still technically had duties as a palace servant.
"Thank you for your concern," Nova said, maintaining his polite demeanor. "Please give my regards to the Menial Labor Department."
The three men left, the two younger disciples casting backward glances of shock and envy. Nova watched them go, then closed his door.
He stood in his cabin, surrounded by the dust of consumed resources, his cultivation at ninth stage Qi Refining, his body transformed into something that barely qualified as human anymore.
"This is going to be complicated," Nova murmured.
Then he smiled, remembering the system notice about concealment being advised.
Too late for that now. His transformation was too obvious, too dramatic to hide.
He'd just have to deal with the consequences.
But first, he had one more thing to check. His spiritual sense, which had apparently been strong enough to resist Luna's probe.
Nova closed his eyes and extended his awareness outward.
His spiritual sense, which should have been non-existent at his cultivation level, spread out from his body like an invisible tide. It covered his cabin, the surrounding grounds, the nearby buildings, stretching further and further until—
Nova gasped and pulled it back in.
His spiritual sense had reached nearly hundred million kilometers before he'd stopped it and that wasn't his limit. At ninth stage Qi Refining. That was the size of 3 African countries placed side by side.
Most Spirit Formation Formation cultivators would be lucky to manage half that distance.
"Fucking hell," Nova whispered again, because apparently that was his catchphrase now.
Everything about his existence had become absurd.
And he suspected it was only going to get more absurd from here.
A voice suddenly echoed in his mind—not his own thoughts, but a spiritual transmission sent directly into his consciousness.
"Come to my quarters. Now."
Luna Ophelia's voice was cold, imperious, brooking no argument. But beneath the command, Nova's enhanced perception detected something else. Curiosity. Confusion. And perhaps a hint of... concern?
The spiritual voice transmission cut off as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving Nova alone in his cabin with the echoing weight of that single word.
Now.a
Nova looked down at his plain servant's robes, dusty from sitting on the floor during cultivation. He looked at the pile of resource dust scattered around his cabin. He looked at his reflection in the bronze mirror—an immortal who still technically held the rank of palace servant.
"Well," he said to his reflection. "I suppose it's time to face the music."
He took a deep breath, straightened his robes as best he could, and stepped out of his cabin.
The Lotus Palace awaited, its ice-blue crystal petals gleaming in the afternoon sun.
And within it, Luna Ophelia waited for answers he wasn't sure how to give.