The thundering waterfall crashed against the rocks with fury as mist swirled through the air and veiled the small valley in a light cloud. Within the open space below the waterfall, stood a young man stripped to his waist, his lean torso taut with effort as he narrowly dodged a continuous barrage of wooden stakes. He wore on his back a strange, oversized black sword and darted around with remarkable agility—reminiscent of a nimble forest creature. His lean muscular frame glistened in the sunlight and radiated the graceful ease of a wind-swept willow.
It had already been close to a month since Xiao Yan had arrived in this tranquil little valley, and for most of this time, Xiao Yan had endured nothing but relentless trials. He was battered and bruised, the results of endless evasive exercises under an onslaught of brutal timber pummeling him from every side. Yet, in all effort comes reward. Unlike his previous performance of being completely overwhelmed by just five wooden stakes, Xiao Yan had progressed. Now he could escape attacks from twelve stakes with relative ease—a testament to his growing dexterity and discipline.
Seated upon a massive rock at the periphery of this peril, the old master of potions observed with mild, half-lidded gaze. A nod slowly rose to his face as he beheld Xiao Yan dart effortlessly through the deadly spaces between twelve hurtling wooden implements of punishment. As the robe of the old master swirled in motion once more, the previously held-in-check thirteenth pillar descended with unbidden violence toward his young pupil below. The surprise onslaught shattered all semblance of harmony Xiao Yan had delicately managed between the dozen stakes’ motion and closed every narrow escape route he previously navigated.
His demeanor grew grim as he watched countless massive logs charge from his flanks like hunting wolves. The force of their combined wind-pressure robbed him of his breath—making each heartbeat seem heavier than the one before it.
A slow breath escaped as a surge of Qi filled Xiao Yan. In an instant he swayed strangely—almost ghostlike, slipping between the oncoming force of the pair before him. Just as the arc of escape was not complete, his foot planted forcefully upon one massive timber, and the leap shot him onto another precarious pillar. Ducking slightly to evade another death-bringing log that nearly nicked his ears clean from the side, Xiao Yan displayed a mastery honed not over days, but weeks. His instincts were sharp now—what once nearly overwhelmed him he now glided through with the poise of someone whose survival depended only upon precision, never force.
With each passing motion behind him came the oppressive aura that battered both skin and psyche. But Xiao Yan’s discipline was iron; though each brush brought pain, every bit of strength was spent only where vital—as to waste even an iota of his precious inner Qi could mean his fall from the trials into humiliating defeat.
His low-grade Huang-level Qi cultivation techniques barely sustained his exertion during these ordeals. Every last wisp of Qi he commanded had to be used with care, like the stingiest purse clutched in times of famine. As Xiao Yan narrowly missed being struck by another stake, the thought echoed within him: *”If only my techniques could evolve, then maybe I wouldn’t have to struggle through every strike like this.”*
As stake number eleven slipped by harmlessly, Xiao Yan’s anticipation surged. A familiar pattern was about to change—the twelfth stake’s angle shifted ever so slightly, a deceptive opening. Xiao Yan shifted his weight onto his sharply rotating sole, his balance held by the barest contact of toes onto timber.
*”Shhuuuum!”* The timber passed him with but an inch between certain defeat and safe escape, and the sharp aura left him wincing. Just as the eleventh stake passed, the expression on Xiao Yan’s face suddenly changed. Behind him… something far more ferocious surged forward.
Learning the attack rhythm of the twelve stakes had taken over twenty long days to master—days spent bruise-covered under the watchful discipline of his old teacher. But now he faced yet another unpredictable shift… one which threatened to break his tenuous control entirely.
He exhaled slowly—eyes suddenly snapping shut, the sharp sound behind him becoming an all-encompassing echo. The hair bristled behind as his consciousness suddenly became attuned to something far beyond vision—a vivid inner picture of the thirteenth timber’s descent began forming in his mind. His perception, though not of sight, painted a startlingly vivid tableau—the path, the energy, the intent of each strike now clear as day. Instilled knowledge combined with sharpened instinct—guided him instinctively toward the perfect path through the chaos.
“*This child… has actually learned to use his mind-force perception?”* A glimmer lit in the eyes of the potion master watching this display, a soft, disbelieving voice mumbled aloud with admiration. And at the moment Xiao Yan’s consciousness grasped each onrushing force, his body twisted in an impossible motion—arms pulled around him protectively, he dropped back in a straight dive, the massive timber roaring overhead by mere centimeters and the force causing both ears discomfort and ringing in tandem with wind rushing past flesh.
With a last surge of grace, he evaded the final obstacle, his foot barely brushing against an upright pillar before his legs bent under him and returned firmly to solid ground. Snatching the nearest available covering from a side pouch, he threw it hastily over his naked torso.
Xiao Yan allowed himself a breath—yet not so indulgent; before the last word passed his lips, he retrieved a petite alchemists’ vial from the finger-bound spatial ring and upturned two tiny spherical tablets into waiting palms.
*“Heh… Running low on Qi-restoration Pellets… Perhaps a foraging expedition might be due.”*
His expression held a touch of resignation though compliance drove his actions. One pellet found passage into his mouth as both hands moved, tracing out sacred sigils—within an instant Xiao Yan settled cross-legged into a formal training pose.
Within the small clearing, Qi wove around Xiao Yan with the faint aura of invisible currents, swirling into contact with skin. The invisible particles adhered to pores, sinking into his tired body in the manner water is devoured without hesitation from dry, thirsty soil.
Each minute passed in silent recovery. The visible air thickens—energy condensation not waning but accelerating at an impressive rate. The motion of the Elder’s fingers tapping rhythmically against stone paused as his calculation of training durations yielded a startling realization: Xiao Yan’s recovery today stretched beyond even his most hopeful projections!
*“Six Stars…”* A soft chuckle passed under his breath, *“The time to advance is upon him before my deadline had passed. The hunt in the woodlands must’ve refined my boy more than merely physical form.”*
Yet as piercing observation settled deeper into focus, the elder’s brow knitted with uncertainty. The growth felt forced—tense, brittle.
*Some intervention may… perhaps be necessary to see it reach fruition,* thought the elder, a subtle pause marking his decision-making process before he flexed his fingers outward with intent.
From the point between digits launched a focused energy that slammed into Xiao’s focused consciousness, breaking concentration instantly. Xiao Yan’s startled ire quickly flared—how dare it interfere in such crucial moments of potential transcendence.
*“If you force it so, what waits will leave your recovery lagging by more than mere weeks. Time we cannot afford squandered by reckless attempts.”*
His retort hung with the edgeless weight of truth—one that drained Xiao Yan’s earlier bravado as reality set in, the moment perhaps being less an opportunity than he had dared imagine.
*“A great chance indeed…”* He exhaled the sigh with reluctance while an incredulous groan followed.
*“What did I suggest it wasn’t still coming? Back onto those poles. I’ll activate fifteen.”*
“*Fifteen?*” Xiao grimaced—his body trembling at even the suggestion. *He barely stood a chance with thirteen; fifteen stakes would knock him to his face as quickly as they might knock down a leaf with a breath.*
*But the child doesn’t need to carry extra burdens anymore,”* chuckled the old man, *“you don’t need to keep the heavy scale upon you at all!*”
Understanding struck like lightning at those words. Joy lit into expressionless gloom—he had forgotten, hadn’t he?
With a breath exhaled sharply beneath the pressure of renewed vigor within, hands reached forward and grasped tightly. Muscles strained momentarily, the thick blade he once slung proudly upon is person now yanked upward before being plunged heavily before him. The sword’s absence felt like breaking the chains of an ancient dungeon—the Qi that had flowed within as sluggish as molasses before now burst forth, a geyser rushing past narrow stone to unleash power previously locked in confinement.
Strength coursed, bones resonated with the symphony of awakening might and for a moment the sheer pleasure of the experience stole the words away entirely—leaving behind but sensations, as euphoric to a starved man as a cool sweet beverage under the blistering sun.
With a gentle touch onto soft moss underfoot, Xiao Yan felt weightless once more—his posture no longer burdened but poised. Eyes fixed onto the sky-borne wooden columns ahead of him: a challenge accepted with renewed vigor.
A shout echoed outward, a declaration of intent:
*”Begin!”*
His open-palmed gesture was both challenge and invitation: unrestricted, free from its oppressive burdens, it was time to reclaim victory over the impossible.
With a nod at this renewed confidence, the old man moved a sleeve. The breeze swirled as dozens began their violent swiveling motion above.
With every log swinging forth came thunder; the earth itself shivered—leaves lifted, roots pulled free of earthen hold by relentless gale-force assault.
Yet under this storm, the figure danced.
Each movement flowed, smooth yet deadly precise; limbs unbounded, he glided through what had once meant certain impact. From amidst the chaos of destruction emerged only Xiao Yan, his silhouette barely perceptible in and then out amongst the relentless attack rhythm.
The observer nodded once more—a quiet pride lit in those watchful eyes, for the boy surpassed even this seasoned mentor’s expectations.
When finally the final log swept narrowly past and was left reeling amidst sudden still in a suspended balance, Xiao Yan did not immediately relax. Instead his body straightened, motionless on the platform of peril he had survived.
Swallowed one pill—a simple yet effective catalyst—and moments passed in silence as suddenly, swirling mist-like currents erupted outward around his body.
Faint auroras gleam with life. On his gentle expression, the soft glow like jade met his newly awaken blackened irises—eyes glowing fiercely as the moment erupted in a moment so profound, so filled with life it could almost manifest physically.
A grin broke wide across his face—he turned slightly, catching the old mentor’s proud yet knowing eyes.
*“Broken through!”*
*He did it.*
A soft laughter left that mentor’s beard; within gleaming optics flickered satisfaction at both progression and mastery achieved ahead of even their projected timeline. With just a few days continuing practice atop those wooden pillars of hardship, not only were Xiao’s movements less bruise-riddled as the heavy weights were reintroduced—the results became undeniable.
Adaptation to fifteen strikes was complete—a far easier affair than before. Relief had taken hold, and he reveled in moments where sweat gleamed in sunbeams without bruises beneath to remind his flesh the harsh lessons before.
The forest’s lush cover whispered a soft song as Xiao Yan traversed silently within its heart, alert glances flit across each leaf-shade of canopy. Task in mind today? Foraging for components necessary for restoration elixirs essential both physically and in terms of efficiency—reagents crucial to training progression and survival within nature’s domain. These ingredients, difficult to find but essential for alchemy’s demands, demanded a sharpness beyond ordinary perception… or rather, a gifted connection beyond most mortals—an awareness only enhanced further.
Within the expanse laid an understanding, whispered not only via the tongue but intuition… The Reishi-Crimson Fruit—most prized component in these recipes—thrived where life thrived strongest—an oasis of concentrated cosmic energies within nature’s grasp.
He navigated the midday lull—the time between predatory hunts by nature-bound creatures. The terrain passed—dense bush to rocky overhang to thorn-thick terrain—all cleared easily by keen awareness and instinct shaped through countless encounters.
Brushing through heavy fern cover, Xiao Yan halted abruptly—the vision unfolded in an isolated patch: piles of disarrayed boulders leaning precariously upon each others’ broken shoulders… behind them… greenery creeping like a veil down sheer mountain face.
Approaching carefully, Xiao Yan observed with quiet awe—one bush… different.
Small, violet shoots rising against nature’s palette—a single stem extending its limbs proudly while fire-red globes nestled within its arms amidst a green leaf-limb screen… emanating a subtle aroma.
*”The Reishi-Crimson Fruit…”*
With relief came wariness as instinct cautioned him—every rare specimen worth obtaining bore protection of equal measure.
His senses scanned thoroughly, yet detected nothing amiss.
Yet his instinct remained prickling, and he paused longer still to sense anything beyond perception’s veil.
None emerged. Cautious movements brought his steps forward into that gladed alcove.
As he neared the plant, the sense of uneasiness grew… stronger… sharper… unnatural—
Suddenly—
From the ledge above them burst downward a massive white creature—a force equaling the collapse of a minor mountain. It landed like thunder, cutting all retreat and halting all advance save sheer will.
The figure stood paralyzed—a creature of legend revealed before his eyes.
Standing perhaps two or three meters tall—white, immense fur cloaked a body shaped for destruction—a maw filled with fangs; two blood-filled sockets stared out with malice.
Xiao Yan’s heartbeat froze at his chest—the very essence of beastly fury now focused solely on him.
“Blizzard Spirit Ape… second-tier beast…”
Before it lay no illusion—a creature that could rival battle-hungry human Masters, yet this one carried within its flesh an open festering gash—blood flowed like a slow-moving river as the beast trembled with unrefined wrath and aching wounds.
Though a creature of raw strength even wounded to such a state… Xiao could only think of his next step through calculated analysis—an advantage he could exploit.
*”Master?”* His mental cry remained unanswered—an unusual void of silence that only steeled Xiao Yan further. No divine intervention would come today—the burden remained on him to wield his sharpened instincts and tempered discipline in combat. With practiced movements the oversized sword met the earth—freighting him into a lighter weight with the release. Qi thrummed through every vein.
As though to further escalate tensions, a whispering black blur expanded outward from Xiao Yan’s shoulder blades, feathered appendages snapping to life—wings crafted not for flight but evasive prowess.
From the beast sprang forth a swirling force ball… yet it struck naughtness as the blur leapt, twisted—evading in ways only weeks prior meant defeat.
A second command surged forward—the sound of tearing space heralding another technique’s invocation—one of unnatural force—the air twisted in protest around Xiao’s palm—the force summoned tugged and wrenched with unspoken fury, siphoning blood with the ferocity of unseen predators.
A cacophony of crimson splashes and guttural roars played out over this desolate arena… the bloodied terrain bearing witness as Xiao Yan danced around destruction incarnate… his strategy focused solely on inflicting more suffering until at last, the accumulated injury claimed its long-overdue toll.
With a final pull—guts flew through the air as a primal roar erupted one last farewell from the dying beast before it collapsed—a mountain reduced to a simple heap of stone and dust.
The boy remained, collapsed—exhaustion evident across every limb—but as energy began to ebb and flow back… a smile broke forth.
*”This is a fine place indeed…”* Xiao Yan muttered to himself—before turning back to the crimson-slicked corpse beside him… one final treasure still remained—rewards from fallen beasts did not come by often.
As the day faded into tranquil dusk, his return toward the familiar secluded valley marked more than a day’s conclusion; it represented another step down his winding path, with every breath, with every lesson carved with bloodied pain and silent growth…
And in the darkness that followed in pursuit from afar… a trace of his past would awaken soon… the chase continues.
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