The descent from Dragon Yuan Mountain was not steep—but it was long.
Stone steps carved into the mountainside wound downward like an ancient serpent, disappearing into layers of drifting mist. On either side, towering trees stretched skyward, their leaves whispering softly as wind passed through them.
Lin Sheng walked alone.
Each step was steady.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Yet his mind—
Was anything but calm.
"…The left eye aperture is open."
He blinked slightly.
The world shifted.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
The clarity of his vision had improved in a way that was difficult to describe. Colors appeared slightly richer. Edges sharper. Even distant objects seemed more defined.
It wasn't just better eyesight.
It was perception.
"Crystal."
The familiar interface appeared silently.
[Analyzing visual enhancement…]
[Left Eye Sensory Amplification: +30%]
Lin Sheng narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Thirty percent."
That was no small increase.
In his previous life, opening a single aperture had taken nearly a month of continuous training—and even then, the effects were subtle.
But here—
With spiritual qi present—
The process had accelerated dramatically.
"And this is just one aperture…"
His gaze lifted toward the distant forest.
"If all eight are opened…"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
Because he already knew.
This path—
Was far beyond anything his previous world had achieved.
By the time he reached the base of the mountain, the mist had thinned.
Before him—
The mortal city unfolded.
It was not grand like the inner sect areas of cultivation powers.
But neither was it small.
Tall stone walls surrounded the city, etched with formation markings faintly glowing under sunlight. Guards stood at the gates—some wearing armor, others dressed in simple martial attire.
Most were mortals.
But not ordinary ones.
Their movements were firm.
Their breathing steady.
Martial practitioners.
Lin Sheng walked through the gates without stopping.
No one questioned him.
His robe bore the insignia of the Lin Family.
That alone was enough.
Inside—
The city was alive.
Merchants called out from both sides of the street. Stalls displayed everything from dried herbs to forged weapons. Children ran between crowds. Ox-drawn carts creaked along stone roads.
It was noisy.
Vibrant.
Chaotic.
Yet—
Organized.
This was not just a mortal city.
It was a foundation.
The foundation of the Lin Family's influence.
"The stronger the mortal base… the higher the chance of producing cultivators…"
Lin Sheng's eyes flickered.
"…That explains the scale."
Without mortals—
There would be no cultivators.
Without numbers—
There would be no talent.
It was a simple principle.
But one that governed entire cultivation worlds.
He moved through the streets without stopping.
His destination—
Clear.
The Wu Pavilion.
It stood near the center of the city.
A three-story building made of dark wood, reinforced with metal edges. Its structure was sturdy rather than elegant, but it carried a certain quiet authority.
Above the entrance—
A wooden plaque.
Two words carved deeply into it:
Wu Pavilion.
Lin Sheng stepped inside.
The moment he entered—
The noise of the outside world faded.
Inside, the air was calm.
Still.
Rows of wooden shelves stretched across the hall, filled with scrolls and booklets. Some were worn with age. Others looked newly copied.
A faint scent of ink lingered in the air.
Behind a long counter—
A man sat.
Or rather—
Reclined.
Half-asleep.
Old Liang.
He looked… strange.
At first glance, he appeared young—no more than thirty.
His features were sharp. His posture relaxed.
But his hair—
Was completely grey.
Not the dull grey of age.
But a silvery tone that shimmered faintly under light.
Lin Sheng had seen him for years.
And yet—
He had never understood him.
"Old Liang."
Lin Sheng greeted casually.
A pause.
Then—
"…Mm."
A lazy response.
Barely audible.
Lin Sheng didn't wait.
He walked deeper into the pavilion.
The shelves were categorized.
Clearly.
Organized.
One section was labeled:
Martial Techniques
This was where he stopped.
"…Finally."
Before today—
He had never been allowed here.
Family rules were strict.
Without passing the spiritual root test—
One could not access martial knowledge.
Now—
That restriction was gone.
Even if the result…
Was failure.
He scanned the shelves.
Titles passed through his vision one after another:
(Eagle Claw Technique)
(Blood Saber Technique)
(Flowing Sword Technique)
(Eight-Step Cicada Movement)
(Swimming Dragon Form)
Each one represented a different path.
Different style.
Different philosophy.
"Crystal. Scan compatibility."
[Scanning…]
[Comparing host physique and neural response patterns…]
Lin Sheng picked up several manuals.
Opened them.
Flipped through pages.
The chip processed everything rapidly.
Then—
A result appeared.
[Vajra Fist Technique — Optimal Compatibility]
Lin Sheng paused.
"…Vajra Fist."
He picked it up.
The booklet was simple.
Roughly bound.
But the moment he flipped it open—
He could feel it.
Heavy.
Solid.
Every movement described within—
Was direct.
Explosive.
No unnecessary complexity.
A technique focused on power.
"…Suitable for strengthening physique."
The chip added:
[Estimated Constitution Growth: +3–5% with consistent practice]
That was enough.
Lin Sheng closed the booklet.
"…This one."
He turned and walked back to the counter.
Old Liang opened one eye slightly.
"…Picked something?"
Lin Sheng placed the booklet down.
"Vajra Fist Technique."
Old Liang glanced at it.
Then at him.
"…Seven days."
His voice was calm.
"If you don't return it—there's a fine."
Lin Sheng nodded.
"I understand."
Old Liang made a mark in a worn record book.
Then—
Closed his eyes again.
As if the conversation never happened.
Lin Sheng left the pavilion.
The booklet in hand.
The sun was beginning to set.
Golden light stretched across the city.
Casting long shadows.
Back in his residence—
Night had fallen.
The courtyard was silent.
Still.
Lin Sheng sat in his room.
The Vajra Fist manual lay open before him.
"…Crystal."
[Ready]
"Scan and input."
[Scanning… Processing…]
A faint pressure touched his mind.
Then—
Information flowed in.
Not forcefully.
But smoothly.
Each movement.
Each stance.
Each breathing rhythm—
Was mapped.
Stored.
Organized.
"…Assist mode."
[Activated]
Lin Sheng stood and swayed his body according to the stance.
The Fist Technique has 7 forms. The first form is called the "Adamantine Root Stance". The foundational form. The practitioner anchors their body like an immovable mountain, channeling force from the ground into the fist. Its mainly used for defense and preparing devastating counters.
After taking the stance, his fist shot forward.
Slightly off-angle.
[Correction: Adjust 3 degrees right]
He shifted.
Struck again.
[Accuracy: 57%]
Again.
[Accuracy: 68%]
Again.
[Accuracy: 74%]
Sweat formed on his forehead. It's almost like having ones own personal trainer.
But his movements improved rapidly.
Not because of talent.
But because of precision.
Perfect correction.
Perfect repetition.
Hours passed.
His breathing grew heavier.
But his movements moved Morrell efficiently
Finally—
He stopped.
The interface flickered.
[Vajra Fist Proficiency: Entry → 22%]
Lin Sheng exhaled slowly.
"…Faster than expected."
He clenched his fist.
A faint tightness ran through his muscles.
Martial Techniques proficiency are Entry, Proficient, Mastered, Minor achievement, Major Achievement and Perfection.
To be able to correctly perform the 6 stances each time means one has entered proficient.
According to the chop to reach this level will take a few days. Of course this means only practicing the stances for about 3 hours, anymore and ones qi and blood will be overdrawn .