On Lingyao Peak—the famed "Herbal Medicine Peak" whose very name hints at its mystical potency—the land is divided into two main parts. The rear hill is dedicated to the cultivation of spiritual herbs and medicinal plants, while the front courtyard serves as the proper ground for alchemy and self-cultivation. Within that front courtyard, there is even a reception hall ingeniously established to allow those who have reached the Foundation Stage to entertain visiting guests. It is a setting that should, by all accounts, exude a calm and dignified energy befitting great cultivators.
Yet on this fateful day, the atmosphere inside the reception hall was anything but tranquil. Instead, the air was thick with tension—a charged silence punctuated by the clashing of wills, as if every sword were suddenly drawn and every bowstring taut. In the midst of this rising storm of hostility stood Fang Jinyu, the very man at the center of this controversy, his face inscrutable and his expression marred only by the hint of exasperation.
For Fang Jinyu, the swirling rumor that had ignited this uproar was as nonsensical as it was infuriating. Although he could not fathom why anyone would spread such a tale—and indeed, he felt a sting of anger at the accusation—it was not a matter he took to heart too seriously. After all, with just a little contemplation, any rational person would easily see through the absurdity of the story. In his mind, such baseless allegations could be dismissed as the idle chatter of minds that simply had "water in their brains."
But fate, it seems, has a way of twisting even the most trivial matters into something far more consequential. Unbeknownst to Fang Jinyu, the disturbance had reached farther than rumor alone; it had managed to awaken the ire of several Foundation Stage cultivators from the Heavenly Spirit Sect. These men, although not official disciples of the sect, had more recently been recruited as "guest officials" because each possessed a unique skill—some were adept at taming spiritual insects, while others held a refined mastery over the cultivation of medicinal herbs. In the strict, competitive world of cultivation, such talents were prized assets, and these men were not about to let a chance to take revenge slip away.
Fang Jinyu could not for the life of him understand why these presumptuous upstarts—whom he regarded contemptuously as "little brats"—had chosen this moment to insert themselves into what he considered a trivial mistake. After all, the one person at the heart of the scandal was nowhere to be seen. It was the very same Heavenly Spirit disciple whose chance at entering the fabled Lingdu Secret Realm had been snatched away by none other than the female protagonist, Su Yier. In that same moment, Fang Jinyu had learned this rival's name: Lin Le. Originally, Lin Le had held some standing, for he came from a small but respectable family of cultivators, with several members who had mastered the Foundation Stage. In other words, he had a bit of a pedigree to his name—even if that background had become tarnished by recent events.
Not long ago, however, Lin Le's entire family had been wiped out by vengeful enemies. The massacre was tied to an old, personal feud that dated back several decades—a grudge in which the Lin household had been found to be at fault. The incident was so steeped in historical baggage that even the immortal sects located near the Lin family's former abode hesitated to utter a word of judgment. Unsurprisingly, the Heavenly Spirit Sect itself had offered no comment on the matter. After all, the tragedy had befallen a disciple's family rather than the disciple himself—a distinction that, while harsh, made it easier for the sect to remain officially neutral.
Amid this chaotic web of accusations and long-held grudges, a few voices rose in unison. "Fang Jinyu," one of the interlopers jeered, "you've blatantly snatched the chance meant for someone else. Even if this matter winds its way up to the sect head, it will be our responsibility—our lot to shoulder!" Another added, with venom underlying his tone, "That's right! Hurry up and confess your misdeeds, or go see the sect head and accept the punishment!" A third voice, no less aggressive, warned, "If you don't – then don't come crying to us later when we take matters into our own hands!"
Listening to the incessant prattle of these three guest officials, Fang Jinyu felt his patience wear thin. He fixed them with an expression so cool it bordered on disinterest, then asked in a calm, measured tone, "Fellow Daoists, have you lost your minds? What sort of nonsense has gotten into you?"
Their eyes flared with indignation. "You insolent whelp!" they snapped back in unison, their voices tinged with anger as they failed to conceal their contempt.
For Fang Jinyu, the very idea that he had wasted precious time—time that could have been better spent in deep meditation pondering alchemical formulas—by even entertaining such a charge was utterly preposterous. He considered it a foolish decision of the highest order. Yet, before he could muster a single more word of reason, one of the guest officials continued his tirade, "How dare you, Fang Jinyu! We three, founded in the early days of the Foundation Stage, shall not tolerate such insolence from a newly initiated cultivator! Dare you speak in this manner to those who have traversed much longer on the path?"
At this moment, as Fang Jinyu's eyes narrowed in barely concealed irritation and he was about to order these interlopers to report themselves to the sect head, something unexpected happened—a text box appeared as if by magic before his very eyes, its words shining out across his field of vision.
The message read: [Today is a day of gallant bearing—a day for eloquent sparring with fellow cultivators] [Refinement yielded Facial Charisma +1]
For a heartbeat, Fang Jinyu was rendered speechless. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, a surge of nameless, burning anger coursed through him. It was not the clamor of physical combat that stirred him—it was the insult hidden in that infuriating "Facial Charisma" bonus. "Once again with that damned vanity about appearances?" he thought bitterly. "I am a cultivator of great repute—a martial artist whose power is measured in the strength of his internal energy and mastery of mystical arts. What use is it to be parading such a trivial enhancement as 'facial charisma'?"
In that same instant, the mood within him shifted. No longer content with mere words, Fang Jinyu's expression turned cold as frost. His voice, now low and dangerous, cut through the charged silence in the hall: "Look at you three—your arrogance is palpable, and clearly you have received bribes to come here and pick a fight. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so utterly brainless. Since you insist on starting trouble, then let me show you exactly how different a properly cultivated disciple of the Heavenly Spirit Sect—a disciple raised in the orthodox tradition of our Foundation Stage—is from the likes of you!"
He deliberately raised his voice on that final word, a command that left no room for hesitation. At that very moment, two of the intervening foundation cultivators from Lingyao Peak, who had been trying to calm the situation, instantly froze in their tracks. They, too, were disciples of the orthodox tradition of the Heavenly Spirit Sect, and in that instant, they chose not to interfere further.
For in the world of mortal men—and by extension cultivators—wherever there are people, there is strife. In the treacherous and competitive world of cultivation, internal strife among sects is as common as it is vicious. These conflicts are typically fought with great restraint, especially between the orthodox branch of the Heavenly Spirit Sect and the guest official faction. Though their differences are not irreconcilable, the disputes are not hidden; they are aired openly, and no one bothers with pretensions when the stakes are high.
Barely had Fang Jinyu's challenge fallen from his lips when he acted. With a fluid motion that only one thoroughly confident in his abilities could muster, he lunged into action. His movements were swift, his power surging like a winter storm unleashed. The three guest officials, whose schemes had hinged on his inaction, could not help but show a flash of delight, for their plan—as devious as it was—seemed to be coming to fruition. They had indeed accepted bribes to stir up trouble, and they assumed that should Fang Jinyu begin the fight, it would put him at a disadvantage and validate their baseless accusations.
But as events unfolded, those very same interlopers soon learned to regret their brazenness. Despite each of them having attained mastery at the third level of the Foundation Stage, they were no match for the true force of discipline and cultivation that Fang Jinyu possessed. In the moment they clashed, even as they only had barely drawn out their spiritual instruments, they were soundly defeated. Fang Jinyu's martial prowess and mystical aptitude revealed itself in the form of an energy that crackled with a hint of thunderbolt force—a power so astonishing that it left them momentarily stunned and disoriented. In that fleeting instant, the battle was over, and victory was indisputable.
One of the disgraced guest officials spat out in disbelief, "Is that… a top-tier technique? Did you steal it?" Although the three had joined the Heavenly Spirit Sect and subsequently acquired far more complete cultivation methods, their techniques were still merely inferior. When they discovered that Fang Jinyu wielded a technique of superior caliber, envy mingled with humiliation, and they could only respond with those idiotic, enraged words.
With a self-assured laugh, Fang Jinyu calmly replied, "Heh, there is something you gentlemen have failed to realize—my dear senior, my parents once sacrificed everything they had in service to this sect. As a token of gratitude and honor, the sect bestowed upon me the 'Wind and Thunder Summoning Technique' at an early age."
At that moment, two foundation cultivators from Lingyao Peak, who had been hovering on the fringes of the conflict, stepped in to de-escalate the situation. "Senior Brothers," one of them interjected smoothly, "please understand that Brother Fang still has a medicinal pill to refine. He must leave now." With a slight bow of his head and a courteous inclination of his palms, Fang Jinyu signaled to the two elders that he was indeed prepared to take his leave.
"Take care, Brother Fang!" They chorused in unison as a mark of respect, the two level-four Foundation Stage practitioners from Lingyao Peak acknowledging his prowess with a well-timed salute. For in a duel of one against three, where the odds are starkly uneven, defeating his adversaries in an instant was something that no mere pugilist of level four could ever hope to even attempt.
Bitterly chastised but ever resolute, Fang Jinyu left the fray with a heavy heart. However, his mood took a turn for the better the very next day. When he visited the Spirit Beast Valley—a place where wild, magical creatures roamed free—he was relieved to find that the notorious Black Pig King was absent. "How magnanimous of that old pig!" Fang Jinyu murmured in his heart, a tinge of grateful relief softening his mood. The absence of such a formidable foe meant that his own time for deep meditation and the refinement of the primordial spirit pill formula would not be as pressed as it had been.
Thus passed a day marked not only by strenuous mental exertion in attempting to comprehend the arcane secrets of the primordial spirit pill but also by a poignant note of disappointment at having made no tangible progress. The ancient inscriptions of the cultivation world recorded the day as: [Today was a day filled with the hardships of meditating on the primordial spirit pill formulation—but alas, no breakthrough was made] [Refinement yielded: Primordial Spirit Pill Refinement Essence +1]
That day, at long last, Fang Jinyu achieved the breakthrough he had coveted for so long. It came upon him as if in a moment of sudden, divine illumination—a cascade of insight that filled his mind with the luminous clarity of true understanding. He now knew, with unmistakable certainty, the proper method required to refine a primordial spirit pill suitable for his current cultivation level.
With a bold, self-assured smile, he proclaimed to himself, "Only two days have passed, and I have completely grasped the essence of the primordial spirit pill. Truly, I must be an unparalleled alchemy prodigy!"
Even as an anonymous onlooker elsewhere might have boastfully declared his own achievements, Fang Jinyu's inner satisfaction shone in stark contrast. His mind was alight with the knowledge that his efforts had finally borne fruit—even if the rest of the world had yet to notice.
At that very moment, as if summoned by fate itself, a streak of silvery light darted across the room. It was no ordinary beam but a talisman marked with the seal of the sect head. Defying every prohibition and custom within the Heavenly Spirit Sect, the talisman disregarded all restrictions as it flew directly toward Fang Jinyu, halting only when it hovered before him.
In a deep, resonant voice that carried the weight of authority, the sect head commanded, "Brother Fang, you are hereby summoned to Heavenly Spirit Peak without delay." No sooner had the words been spoken than the talisman crumbled into a fine dust, its remnants scattered like ephemeral ash across the floor.
"Damn it, the sect head really does toss around his orders like he's discarding garbage…" Fang Jinyu muttered under his breath. Despite his lingering irritation at being summoned—convinced that the timing was yet another twist of fate destined to disrupt his meditative progress—he had no choice but to answer the call.
Upon his arrival at Heavenly Spirit Peak, Fang Jinyu found the gathering to be larger than he had anticipated. His eyes swept the assembled crowd until he noticed, unmistakably, the familiar sneering visages of the three guest officials who had caused so much trouble the day before. Even more curiously, beside these three stood an additional disciple—a cultivator of the Qi Condensation Stage, his level being nine—and that sight confirmed to Fang Jinyu that the matter was far from over. He approached the sect head with measured urgency and demanded, "Sect Head, what is the meaning of this opportunity to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm? Were you not aware of the affair?"
The sect head sighed, his expression one of resigned weariness. "Of course I am aware, Brother," he replied softly. "But you must now present your Disciplined Pearl."
Fang Jinyu reached into the folds of his robe as he spoke, "This, I grant, is not contentious. However, you must recall that on the day we emerged from the Lingdu Secret Realm, the patriarch himself summoned me, and at that time the records on the Disciplined Pearl were already erased clean." With that, he produced the pearl for inspection.
Thus concludes the excerpt. In this tumultuous episode—filled with rivalries as sharp as drawn swords, cutting words that become the proverbial ammunition in martial verbal duels, and the swift application of mystical power—the reader witnesses both the lofty aspirations and the bitter quarrels that define the world of cultivation. Here, ancient grudges are interwoven with the incessant pursuit of alchemical perfection; status is measured not merely by strength but by the legacy of familial sacrifice, and every seemingly trivial advantage (such as a boost to one's "facial charisma") might hint at a deeper, hidden truth about the nature of power and pride in the Heavenly Spirit Sect.
It is a world where every confrontation carries the weight of history and honor, where even the smallest insult can ignite a blaze of retribution, and where fate seems to conspire to place each cultivator at a crossroads between ambition and duty. As the dynamics of power shift with every decisive blow and every calculated word, Fang Jinyu's journey offers a glimpse into the paradoxes of the world—where strength is tempered by wisdom, arrogance is blurred by humility, and the price of opportunity is eternal conflict.
In the grand tapestry of cultivation, every moment is charged with potential. The elegant halls of the Heavenly Spirit Sect, the rugged contours of Lingyao Peak, and the secret energies of the Lingdu Realm converge to form a saga that is as enchanting as it is treacherous. Here, alliances shift as quickly as the wind, and a single misstep can spell the difference between glory and ruin. Yet even amidst these swirling currents of fate, there is beauty to be found in the struggle, a certain poetry in the clashing of mighty wills and the relentless pursuit of the elusive perfection that lies at the heart of all true cultivation.
For Fang Jinyu, such internal strife is but a fleeting distraction from his true calling. Though he must navigate the pitfalls of envy, resentment, and the crushing expectations of both ancestry and society, his spirit remains unbowed. Every encounter—be it a petty squabble with opportunistic interlopers or a grand summons from the revered sect head—serves to sharpen his resolve and deepen his understanding of the profound mysteries of his art. It is through these trials, both verbal and martial, that he cements his identity as one whose destiny is inexorably tied to the legacy of the Heavenly Spirit Sect.
As the day waned and the echoes of confrontation faded into the ambient hum of the peak, Fang Jinyu's heart was stirred by a renewed determination. In the face of challenges both external and internal, he embraced the arduous path of cultivation with a quiet, yet unwavering confidence. For in this timeless realm where the interplay of power, sacrifice, and ambition shapes every breath, even the slightest spark of true insight can ignite a flame that burns brighter than any rival's glare.
And so, in that moment of quiet triumph amid the chaos, Fang Jinyu's journey—like that of every true cultivator—continued onward, propelled by the inexorable forces of destiny, honor, and the relentless pursuit of self-perfection.