Within his dantian, spiritual energy surged like a tide.
Six months of cultivation had given Lin Chen excellent control over his spiritual energy. The once murky, impure force, after circulating through his meridians over a thousand times, had become noticeably purer—not in its elemental composition, but in its quality. Like a rough stone worn smooth by running water, gradually revealing the texture within.
The seal sat deep in his dantian, like a black wall.
Lin Chen could feel its presence—cold, hard, immovable. But on that cold surface, he could indeed see the cracks Jing Lao had mentioned.
Very small, like the fine lines in glazed porcelain, thin as hairs.
But present.
"Today, I'll break through it," Lin Chen said to himself.
He guided his spiritual energy to rotate, compress, and condense within his dantian. As it spun faster, it grew denser, like a storm about to break.
"Wait," Jing Lao suddenly spoke. "That won't work."
Lin Chen stopped. "Why?"
"You've been using brute force each time, like ramming your head against a wall. It works, but the efficiency is terrible." Jing Lao said. "The essence of Chaos lies in 'transformation'—dissolving, generating, utilizing. You don't need to break the seal. You need to dissolve it."
"Dissolve?"
"What is a seal? It's a prohibition. What is a prohibition? The solidification of rules. The Chaotic Spirit Root can accommodate all laws, so naturally, it can dissolve them as well. Don't use your spiritual energy to strike at it—use the nature of Chaos to 'dissolve' it."
Lin Chen was thoughtful.
"Like… water dissolving salt?"
"Something like that," Jing Lao said. "Though your Chaotic Spirit Root is suppressed, its essence remains. Every bit of spiritual energy you cultivate carries the nature of Chaos. What you need to do is not strike the seal with this energy, but let it seep into the cracks of the seal and disintegrate it from within."
Lin Chen closed his eyes and refocused on the spiritual energy in his dantian.
This time, instead of condensing it into a mass, he made it soft, dense, flowing like water. He guided it toward the cracks in the seal, and then—
Seep.
Like water seeping through stone, the spiritual energy slowly, inexorably flowed into the seal's cracks.
The seal trembled.
Not the tremor of an impact, but a deeper, more fundamental vibration—as if some structure were beginning to loosen.
Lin Chen's heart jolted. He continued to push more energy into the cracks.
The spiritual energy penetrated deep within the seal, and he could sense its "texture"—layer upon layer of prohibition runes, densely stacked, each one suppressing the Chaotic power within him.
But as the energy seeped in, the outermost layer of prohibition began to loosen.
Like an old wall, its surface plaster starting to flake away.
"That's it!" Jing Lao's voice carried suppressed excitement. "Keep going!"
Lin Chen gritted his teeth and poured more spiritual energy into the cracks.
The seal trembled more intensely.
One by one, the outermost prohibition runes dimmed, like ink soaked in water, slowly blurring, fading, dissolving.
Then—
Crack.
An extremely faint sound came from deep within his dantian.
Like something splitting open.
Lin Chen felt a surge of warmth pour out from beneath the seal, like a spring that had been blocked too long finally finding an outlet. The warmth flooded his meridians—warm, powerful, carrying a sense of strength he had never experienced before.
"Done!" Jing Lao's voice exploded in his mind. "The first layer of Qi Condensation! You've broken through!"
Lin Chen opened his eyes.
In his pupils, an extremely faint light flickered and vanished.
It wasn't white, wasn't gold—it was a chaotic, indefinable color, like all colors mixed together, or perhaps none at all.
He looked down at his hands.
Faint cyan light flowed beneath the skin of his palms, as if his veins carried light instead of blood.
"This is… the first layer of Qi Condensation?" he murmured.
"This is the first layer of Qi Condensation," Jing Lao's voice carried a smile. "But for a Chaotic Spirit Root, the first layer is nothing like anyone else's first layer. Try now—use your spiritual energy to punch."
Lin Chen clenched his right fist and channeled that sliver of spiritual energy into his knuckles.
On his fist, the cyan glow brightened slightly.
He threw a light punch into the air.
Thud!
A dull impact sounded in the air, as if something had been shattered. Three feet in front of him, an old painting hanging on the wall was shaken loose by the force, fluttering and falling to the ground.
Lin Chen froze.
He had only thrown a light punch, using less than thirty percent of his strength.
"See?" Jing Lao's voice held a hint of pride. "The spiritual energy of a Chaotic Spirit Root may be small in quantity, but its quality is exceptional. With the same amount of energy, the explosive power of a Chaotic Spirit Root is three to five times that of an ordinary spirit root. Once the seal is fully broken, that multiple will only increase."
Lin Chen looked at his fist for a long time.
Then he smiled.
Not a bitter smile, not self-mocking, but a genuine smile, carrying the confidence and youthful energy of a boy taking his first step forward.
In sixteen years, it was the first time he had smiled like this.
"Jing Lao," he said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Jing Lao was silent for a moment.
"Thank me for what?" His voice suddenly sounded a little hoarse. "This old man helps you because it helps himself. Stop wasting time on sentiment. Keep cultivating. The first layer of Qi Condensation—you're still a world away from Foundation Establishment."
Lin Chen nodded and sat cross-legged again.
But before he closed his eyes, he looked out the window.
Outside, the sun was setting, the clouds on the horizon dyed blood-red.
Beautiful.
And somehow, ominous.
At the same moment, in the Lin family's main hall.
The room blazed with light, but the atmosphere was cold as an ice cellar.
Lin Canghai, the Lin family patriarch, sat in the main seat. His graying hair was neatly combed back, his face solemn and weary. His gaze rested on the three figures across from him, all in green robes, and beneath his calm expression was a trace of barely concealed tension.
The Cangyun Sect inspectors.
The lead figure was a middle-aged Taoist with a lean face, prominent cheekbones, and sharp triangular eyes that gleamed with intelligence. He sat casually in the guest seat, yet exuded an oppressive presence that made it difficult to meet his gaze.
Foundation Establishment late-stage.
Behind him stood two younger Taoists, both at Foundation Establishment early-stage. Outside the hall, over a dozen Cangyun Sect disciples stood guard, their presence imposing.
"Patriarch Lin," the middle-aged Taoist lifted his teacup and took a slow sip, "this year's tribute seems to be thirty percent less than previous years."
Lin Canghai's hand trembled slightly.
"Inspector Zhao," he said with a placating smile, "spirit vein production near Qingxuan City has declined this year. All the clans have reduced their tributes. It's not just the Lin family…"
"I know." Inspector Zhao set down his teacup, his triangular eyes sweeping across the faces in the hall. "That's not why I'm here."
Lin Canghai's heart tightened.
"Then the purpose of the inspector's visit is…"
"To find someone." Inspector Zhao cut him off. "Or rather, to find something."
The atmosphere in the hall suddenly grew heavy.
Behind Lin Canghai, Lin Tianhe frowned slightly, his gaze lingering on Inspector Zhao for a moment before quickly looking away.
"What is it the inspector is looking for?" Lin Canghai asked.
Inspector Zhao didn't answer directly. He took a jade slip from his sleeve, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Lin Canghai.
"Patriarch Lin, why not take a look first?"
Lin Canghai picked up the jade slip and pressed it to his forehead.
A moment later, his expression changed.
Dramatically.
"This…" His voice trembled. "Is this true?"
"The Cangyun Sect's intelligence is never false." Inspector Zhao said. "Eight years ago, a collateral member of your Lin family named Lin Yuanshan obtained an ancient divine artifact in the Northern Wasteland Secret Realm. Did you know this?"
Lin Canghai's lips moved, but no words came.
"It seems you didn't," Inspector Zhao smiled, the expression cold as a blade. "Or perhaps you do know, but are reluctant to speak."
"I truly don't know!" Lin Canghai said quickly. "Yuanshan… he perished eight years ago. Whatever he brought back, our Lin family has never seen—"