The hut was quiet, warmed by the afternoon sun filtering through the bamboo slats. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed only by the faint stir of qi as Shi Yao settled cross-legged onto the woven mat.
Moments earlier, he had returned from the sect library with the Void Grasp Art tucked under his arm. Now, the aged scroll lay in front of him — its edges frayed, its seal faintly pulsing with dormant energy.
He carefully unrolled it, his fingers brushing across brittle parchment as rows of intricate characters revealed themselves.
What Shi Yao didn't know was that the Void Grasp Art wasn't some common entry-level technique.
It was a Fourth Rank art — so notoriously difficult that even the sect's most promising disciples had abandoned it. The technique allowed a cultivator to extend spiritual energy outward like invisible hands, grasping and manipulating objects without contact. But every thread of energy had to be controlled independently and precisely, as if commanding dozens of unseen limbs at once. Even a flicker of distraction would cause the entire construct to collapse.
That was why the elders eventually buried it on the first floor of the library — not to protect it, but to let it fade into obscurity.
The fewer who succeeded, the fewer who noticed its true value.
Shi Yao finished reading the scroll and leaned back slightly, exhaling slow and steady.
"So… send out spiritual energy to lift things, like using invisible hands," he muttered, raising a brow. "Doesn't sound that complicated."
He placed the scroll beside him and closed his eyes again, focusing inward. The room held stillness, and he let that stillness settle into his breathing.
The air in the hut carried the faint, earthy scent of dried herbs. Shi Yao sat in lotus position, hands resting on his knees. A small river stone lay in front of him, smooth and unmoving.
He focused, visualizing a single, slender thread of spiritual energy reaching toward the stone. Gently, precisely.
A tremor ran through his body. The stone vibrated — a subtle, trembling response. Shi Yao gritted his teeth, pouring more focus into the task.
But the energy surged — rough and unrefined.
The stone shot sideways with a sharp clatter, ricocheting off a wooden beam before rolling under a stool.
Shi Yao's eyes snapped open. He let out a slow, frustrated breath, his posture unraveling as he leaned forward.
"So close…"
He reset. Tried again. This time with control — no surge, no pressure.
The shimmer of qi wrapped around the stone. It lifted — barely a millimeter.
Then, it dropped.
His breath faltered. The silence returned, heavier now.
Shi Yao looked at his hand. "I really underestimated this technique… it's far harder to control than I thought."
A quiet moment passed. Then his eyes widened.
"Wait—"
His head jerked toward the window slats. The sun hung lower than before.
"I was supposed to meet Master this afternoon—!"
He shot to his feet, grabbed the scroll, and rushed out the hut. The door banged shut behind him. The stone remained still, untouched once more.
---
The learning hall atop the Sixth Peak was nearly empty.
Shi Yao slid the door open and stepped inside. As expected — no one else.
The other disciples had scattered across the sect, choosing other peaks, other teachers. None had chosen Rui Feng.
Except him.
He sat alone.
Moments later, the door opened behind him. Rui Feng walked in, unhurried, a book in hand, robes loose as always. He didn't speak as he passed Shi Yao, setting the book gently on the front table before turning.
"Today," Rui Feng said calmly, "I'm going to teach you the stages of Foundation Establishment."
Shi Yao straightened slightly.
Rui Feng rested a hand on the book.
"As you know, Foundation Establishment has nine layers. Each one is split into low, mid, and peak stages. That much is common knowledge."
He paused a moment before continuing.
"But what most don't realize is that Foundation Establishment is divided into three phases — each with a distinct purpose."
He lifted a hand.
"Phase one — Layers One to Three. This is where a cultivator begins absorbing qi to refine their bones. Without a stable frame, the body can't handle the density of energy required for higher realms."
Another finger rose.
"Phase two — Layers Four to Six. In this phase, the focus shifts to the internal organs. The qi absorbed now reinforces the heart, lungs, liver, and others. They need to withstand the coming surge of energy, or they'll begin to deteriorate under the strain."
A third finger.
"Phase three — Layers Seven to Nine. Here, the cultivator refines their meridians and purges the body of remaining impurities. This stage determines your qi flow, your energy capacity, and how efficiently you can cultivate in the future."
Shi Yao raised his hand. "Master, I've got a question."
Rui Feng nodded. "What is it, Yao'er?"
"What happens if someone doesn't properly refine each phase?"
Rui Feng's eyes met his evenly.
"Most people spend years in Foundation Establishment," he said. "They refine their bones. Temper their organs. Cleanse their meridians. Because if your body isn't in harmony by the ninth layer, it starts resisting your cultivation."
He walked slowly along the front of the room, his tone measured.
"Your qi becomes unstable. Your breakthroughs begin to fracture. Every technique you learn will draw on a flawed base — and eventually, everything collapses."
He stopped. His gaze steady.
"Foundation Establishment isn't just about advancing. It's about building a structure strong enough to endure every stage after. If the foundation is flawed… everything above it falls."
Shi Yao raised his hand again. "Master… what realms come after Foundation Establishment?"
Rui Feng gave a small nod, as if expecting the question.
"Beyond Foundation Establishment comes the Golden Core Stage," he began. "That's when a cultivator forms their core—refining and stabilizing their essence into something dense, durable, and entirely internal."
He lifted one finger.
"Next is the Nascent Soul Realm. At that level, the soul begins to manifest outside the body. A cultivator can exist briefly apart from their flesh—extending will, intention, and power."
A second finger.
"After that comes Soul Integration. Here, body and soul are fully merged. Qi obeys not just through discipline but by intent. Spiritual pressure becomes tangible."
A third finger rose.
"Then… the Body Integration Realm. The physical form itself is tempered—becoming not just a vessel but a weapon. At this stage, one's body can contain and channel incredible amounts of energy without rupture."
"The next step is the Divine Transformation Realm. In this realm, a cultivator's existence begins to distort the world around them. Their energy becomes so refined it brushes the edge of law."
Rui Feng's tone quieted as he raised a fifth finger.
"Then comes the Tribulation Realm. That's when the heavens take notice. When you begin to be tested—not just by enemies, but by the world itself."
He raised a final finger.
"And last… the Great Ascension Realm. The final boundary. The edge of what this world can contain."
Shi Yao frowned slightly. "What do you mean by 'the edge of this world'? Does that mean… there's something beyond it?"
Rui Feng glanced out the open window. Wind stirred the leaves of distant trees.
"You'll find out," he said calmly, "when the time comes."
He didn't elaborate.
But something in the way he said it—measured, quiet, certain—made Shi Yao pause.
He looked down in thought, then slowly raised his hand again.
"Master… why do people avoid the Sixth Peak? What really happened here? And what was this peak originally for?"
Rui Feng's hands stilled atop the book in front of him. For a long breath, he said nothing.
Then he turned, walking a slow arc across the front of the quiet room.
"A hundred years ago," he began, "the Sixth Peak was one of the sect's most important pillars. It was a place of research, experimentation, and unconventional methods. They walked different paths—but they achieved real results."
His voice grew more measured.
"But one day… a disciple from this peak went mad. He possessed a technique unlike any other—one that allowed him to devour energy, qi, and even the cultivation of others."
Shi Yao's breath slowed.
"In a single night, he killed half the sect."
Rui Feng paused by the open doorway, eyes locked on the mountain horizon.
"The Sect Master appeared. The disciple fled. He vanished—no body, no trace. Just silence."
"After that," he continued, "the Sixth Peak was sealed. Forbidden. Its teachings were buried, and no one was allowed to set foot here."
"Then why reopen it?" Shi Yao asked.
"Because the past has to be confronted eventually," Rui Feng said quietly. "The peak was re-opened. But no one chose to return."
"Except me," Shi Yao murmured.
Rui Feng turned fully now, his gaze meeting Shi Yao's.
"You asked what this peak was meant for," he said. "It was meant for seekers. For those willing to walk paths others feared."
Shi Yao nodded slowly, then hesitated one last time.
"What was that disciple's name?"
Rui Feng didn't answer immediately. He stared at Shi Yao for a quiet, unreadable moment.
Then he spoke.
"Bai Ling."
The name dropped into the air like stone into water—quiet, but heavy.
And in the stillness that followed, Shi Yao felt its weight settle somewhere deep in his chest.