After bidding Yan Xue goodbye and walking a while longer in reflective silence, Feiyin and Shen Mu parted ways. Their steps diverged at a stone archway carved into the mountainside, its twin paths leading to separate disciple dwellings. They exchanged a brief nod.

  No need for words. They understood.

  Feiyin walked the last stretch of stairs up to his room, nestled higher than most. He paused at the threshold, lifting the paper bag in his hand slightly—a few roasted rivernuts and dried meat skewers. His fingers brushed the wooden door aside.

  Inside, Bai Yu stirred on the windowsill.

  The serpent lifted her head as Feiyin entered, the soft sound of her scales shifting like silk brushing stone. Gleaming white with faint lavender hues along the spine, her scales shimmered under the sunlight, absorbing it's warmth. Her golden eyes narrowed with familiarity.

  Feiyin smiled and knelt, holding out the skewers.

  "Don’t say I never bring you gifts."

  Bai Yu flicked her tongue, winding around his arm before plucking the meat from the stick with surprising delicacy. Feiyin let out a breath, resting his hand on the serpent’s back. For a long moment, he sat in stillness, simply feeling the quiet.

  Then he stood.

  He moved to the center of the room, sitting cross-legged before the low burning lamp, letting the silence wash over him. The moment had come. No more preparation, no more delay.

  It was time to begin the next step.

  Feiyin drew in a deep breath, and with it, focused inward. The world outside softened, blurred beneath the sharp inner clarity of his senses.

  His oscillation sense, already refined by years of honing, now reached further than ever before. But something had changed since opening his mind’s eye. It was no longer just the vibrations in his body or the subtle fluctuations of the air. Now, he could feel something more—something deeper.

  World essence.

  It pulsed faintly in the environment, like a low hum in the background of existence. It was not sound, nor heat, nor scent. It was the breath of the world itself, woven into every leaf, every mote of dust. Elusive, yet ever-present.

  Feiyin focused on that subtle thrum, sharpening his awareness to trace it like a thread.

  Then, slowly, he activated his inner strength. Rather than exploding it outward, he channeled it inwards—toward his lungs, mimicking the natural rhythm of breath, amplifying the resonance. His inner strength pulsed as he used his nascent spiritual sense to pull the threads of world essence toward him.

  Bit by bit, they drew closer.

  He began guiding the flow, weaving the threads of world essence into the streams of his inner strength. As they intertwined, he felt resistance—like oil refusing to mix with water.

  But he didn’t rush. He called upon the training he’d spent years perfecting. The delicate threading technique. The iron needle that pierced, and the silken thread that followed.

  With needle-like precision, he pierced the boundaries between the two forces, then slowly coaxed them to harmonize.

  Then came the next step.

  He guided the fused energy upward—toward his mind’s eye.

  There, like a gate waiting to be opened, pulsed a faint rhythm. His soul lay there, a corona of light around it. Feiyin sent the fused stream into it, letting it mix with lingering soul light.

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  The result was immediate.

  The mixture reacted, imprinting itself with the resonance of his body and soul.

  It became his.

  Essence Qi—formed not by brute strength, but by harmony. Born of body, breath, and spirit.

  It was only the beginning.

  Feiyin directed the nascent essence qi downward. He traced the path through his meridians—a network so vast and reinforced it was like an inner river system forged in steel. When the essence qi entered, he felt them respond like heated iron striking cold water. The blessing of the world that accompanied his breakthrough surged through those channels, expanding them further, thickening them like molten metal hardening into perfect moldings.

  Because all his meridians were opened beforehand, the blessing flowed unimpeded, washing through his body in full, strengthening every meridian to a point most cultivators could never reach. They were no longer just conduits—they had become living steel. This transformation clarified why many cultivators who formed their essence qi prematurely found themselves stuck, their underdeveloped meridians unable to bear the strain, permanently limiting their growth.

  Feiyin had avoided that fate. Every step prepared. Every inch forward made with purpose. His meridians embraced the essence qi, not resisted it. He had forged his path.

  His destination--the energy center of his being.

  The dantian.

  Located just beneath his navel, the area remained dormant. It was like a waiting vessel, sealed shut.

  Feiyin focused. He felt the essence qi concentrate, and then—like a saber raised in a silent room—he summoned his blade intent.

  Not violence.

  Clarity.

  A cut, not to destroy—but to open his path forward.

  His meridians flared. Blade intent surged. And then—

  He cleaved the seal.

  The dantian split open like a blossoming flower, its core drinking in the essence qi like dry earth beneath rain. The energy spun, coiling inward, forming the first layers of a nascent vortex. It was the beginning of what would become the qi nexus, though not yet fully formed.

  This stage, sometime mistaken for completion, was merely the anchoring of essence qi into the core. The spiral hadn't yet grown into a true cyclone, lacking the density and momentum of a completed qi nexus. Still, it marked the first and most difficult step.

  But even as he stabilized the forming vortex, his body trembled.

  Two more pulses.

  One in his chest.

  One behind his brow.

  They resonated with his newly formed dantian like cords of a single instrument.

  Without hesitation, Feiyin redirected the streams.

  Again, he gathered inner strength. Again, he harmonized it with world essence. Again, he forged essence qi.

  Then, he followed the resonance.

  The point in his chest—just right his heart—responded to the energy eagerly. It was like a mirror of the first dantian, waiting, begging to be unlocked.

  He guided the essence qi there, using the same technique. Blade intent, precise and deliberate.

  The second dantian opened.

  He repeated the process one final time, guiding the final stream into his head—just behind the mind’s eye, nestled deep in the brain.

  And there, the third dantian bloomed.

  Only when it was done did the exhaustion slam into him like a crashing wave.

  His body trembled with the strain. He slumped backward, bracing himself against the floor, panting.

  But as the stillness returned… so did something else.

  Power.

  His senses flared.

  His heartbeat echoed not only in his chest, but through every fiber of his being.

  He felt the world—truly felt it. The rhythm of roots in the earth. The breath of flame within the mountain. The sky above.

  His body changed. Reinforced not just by strength, but by the essence of the world itself. Bones denser. Muscles refined. Organs harmonized.

  His soul resonated more clearly, like a crystal vibrating to a perfect pitch.

  And his nascent spiritual sense?

  No longer just oscillation. No longer bound to his clothes.

  It extended outward—15 feet in every direction. Not vision. Not sound. Something deeper.

  True spiritual sense.

  Feiyin sat there in silence, feeling everything.

  Not with pride.

  Not with triumph.

  But with a quiet, burning resolve.

  He had stepped into the Qi Condensation Realm.

  He had reached the Qi Manifestation Phase.

  And this…

  This was only the beginning.