The southern wing of the legacy palace was silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of ancient earth-fire breathing beneath the obsidian floor. The corridor leading to the Verdant Flame Hall was lined with pillars of petrified wood, their surfaces polished to a glass-like sheen, reflecting the faint, red glow that seeped from the chamber ahead.
Fang Lin walked quietly down the corridor, his simple mortal cotton robes rustling softly against the stone. Beside him, the Mansion Spirit glided without a sound, his ancient face calm, his hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his grey robe. Behind them, Feng Jiu'er walked with a measured, proud stride. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sheathed Crimson Bamboo Sword, her fingers occasionally tightening on the polished wood as she felt the shifting density of the spiritual energy in the air.
"The Crimson Bamboo Flame Core is born of raw, explosive fire energy," the Mansion Spirit explained, his voice carrying the quiet, echoing resonance of the palace walls. "But to consolidate it at the Early Core Formation Realm, the heat must not be allowed to run wild. The wood-attribute formations of this hall are designed to act as a regulator. They filter the earth-fire, stripping away the violent impurities while preserving the pure essence."
They stopped before the entrance of the Verdant Flame Hall. A massive archway carved from a single block of dark jade stood before them, its surface etched with thousands of microscopic, leaf-like runes. Beyond the archway lay a circular chamber. In the center, a raised platform of polished stone floated over a narrow fissure in the floor, through which a steady, clean crimson heat rose.
As they approached, the jade archway hummed. The leaf-like runes glowed with a soft, emerald-green light, and a gentle breeze swept through the chamber, instantly cooling the dry heat of the earth-fire. There was no smoke, no ash, and no harsh pressure. The automated arrays of the palace adjusted the temperature to a perfect, soothing warmth, creating a space where the wood Qi and fire Qi were in perfect, harmonious balance.
The Mansion Spirit looked at Feng Jiu'er, a quiet, gentle smile appearing on his ancient face. "The accommodations are set, Fairy Feng. The arrays will maintain this balance as long as you reside within. You may cultivate without fear of external disturbance."
Feng Jiu'er looked at the floating platform, then turned her sharp, proud eyes toward the spirit, bowing her head slightly in respect. "Thank you, senior."
She turned to Fang Lin, her expression softening into a quiet, watchful intensity. They were far from the sect camps, far from the border command posts, and completely hidden from the major sects' divine senses. In this private space, the weight of her Rising Phoenix Mountain pride seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet resolve of a cultivator who had chosen a new path.
"Do not waste time, Lin," she said, using his shortened name in a quiet, private tone. She adjusted her grip, ensuring her Crimson Bamboo Sword rested securely in her lap as she prepared to sit. She would keep it next to her always, its presence a familiar weight that steeled her mind. "The River Sword Sect will not keep the border locked forever. When they realize the checkpoints are empty, they will expand their search. We must be ready when we exit."
"I know," Fang Lin replied, his dark eyes looking at her steadily. "Consolidate your foundation. The senior will watch over the outer arrays. You are safe here."
Feng Jiu'er nodded. With a smooth, decisive movement, she stepped onto the floating platform, sitting cross-legged in the center. She placed her sheathed Crimson Bamboo Sword across her lap, her fingers resting lightly on the wood. As she closed her eyes and began her breathing cycle, the emerald runes on the jade archway flared softly, wrapping the platform in a protective, green-tinted barrier of filtered spiritual energy.
Fang Lin watched the barrier settle before turning away. The Mansion Spirit walked beside him as they left the hall, the jade gates closing silently behind them.
"She has a strong will, and her core is dual-element." the Mansion Spirit remarked as they walked back toward the central courtyard. "Her flame core is hot, but her wood Qi is deep. With the palace's arrays, she will consolidate her realm within a few days."
"And my meridians, senior?" Fang Lin asked, his tone returning to its usual calm, economical utility.
The Mansion Spirit stopped, his wise eyes settling on Fang Lin's chest, where the three parallel meridians were hidden beneath his flesh. "Your meridians are reconstructed into three parallel paths. It is a structure of great courage, Little Lin. It allows you to distribute violent impact and handle energies that would shatter an ordinary cultivator. But because you forged them under extreme strain and used them to fight a half-step Spirit Manifestation expert before they were consolidated, they carry deep, microscopic weaknesses. The walls of the paths are uneven, like iron that was hammered too fast and cooled without tempering."
They entered the central training chamber, a wide, square room built of heavy obsidian blocks. The floor was etched with ancient, circular runes that hummed with a heavy, grounding pressure. In the center, a simple stone mat rested on the cold floor.
"To correct this," the Mansion Spirit continued, "you cannot rely on ordinary spiritual energy or gentle healing pills. Gentle Qi will only flow over the cracks, leaving the underlying weakness untouched. You must bake the meridians from within. You must melt the uneven structures and fuse the microscopic cracks using the intense heat of your own internal furnace."
Fang Lin sat cross-legged on the stone mat, his hands resting on his knees. "The Ancient Spatial Furnace."
"Indeed," the Mansion Spirit said, nodding. "The furnace houses a flame companion of great power. Under my guidance, you will draw a controlled thread of the furnace's dark flame directly into your parallel paths. I will activate the room's grounding formations to protect your dantian and stabilize your outer flesh, but the internal control must be yours alone. It will be a path of absolute pain. If your concentration wavers, the flame will turn from a hammer into a torch, burning your paths to ash."
Fang Lin closed his eyes, his breathing slowing as he turned his awareness inward. Within the quiet recesses of his spiritual sea, his Peak-Solid Soul stood firm and dark. Hidden deep within that quiet pool, the Ancient Spatial Furnace floated in silence.
As his mind brushed against the furnace's surface, the embers within flared. A tiny, flame-shaped projection of a little girl materialized in his spiritual sea, her head tilting back, her arms crossed over her tiny chest as she looked at him with childish glee.
"Ooh, so you finally decided to play with fire, Loud-Boy?" the Dark Flame Spirit's voice cackled in his thoughts, her embers flaring with restless heat. "I was getting so bored! But are you sure you're ready? The old man's plan sounds very painful. If I let the flames out, your insides are going to sizzle like fat on a grill! Don't come crying to me when you start smoking!"
"I'm ready, Dark Flame," Fang Lin replied in his mind, his tone calm and unyielding. "The parallel paths must be perfected. Start the fire, but keep the temperature steady under the senior's guidance."
"Fine, fine," she huffed, pouting as she sat on the rim of the internal furnace, her tiny hands flaring with dark-red sparks. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Hold on to your little soul!"
The Mansion Spirit raised his hand outside, his fingers moving in a series of slow, complex gestures. The obsidian floor hummed, the circular runes around Fang Lin's mat flaring with a deep, grey light. A heavy, grounding spatial pressure descended on the room, stabilizing Fang Lin's physical form and sealing his spiritual sea against external fluctuations.
"Begin," the Mansion Spirit's voice echoed in the chamber, heavy and authoritative.
Fang Lin took a deep breath. Within his spiritual sea, the Dark Flame Spirit pushed a slender, dark-red spark out of the Ancient Spatial Furnace.
The moment the spark touched the entrance of his first parallel meridian, Fang Lin's body stiffened. It was not a normal heat; it was a space-war-induced, dense thermal pressure that felt like molten lead being poured directly into his veins. The dark flame did not burn his flesh, but it targeted the structural irregularities of the meridian walls, melting the uneven patches of Qi and forcing the microscopic cracks to open.
A silent gasp left Fang Lin's lips, his chest clenching as he fought the instant urge to draw back.
"Steady, Loud-Boy!" the Dark Flame Spirit's voice rang in his mind, her childish amusement gone, replaced by a rare, serious concentration. Her tiny hands moved in sync with his breathing, drawing the spark forward, carving a slow path through the first channel. "The heat must reach the deep cracks. If you pull back now, the path will close unevenly, and you'll have to start all over again!"
Fang Lin locked his Peak-Solid Soul. His divine sense wrapped around the three parallel meridians, acting as a solid anvil against the internal heat. He did not cry out. His face turned pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down his cheeks, but his posture remained absolutely steady, his breathing slow and controlled.
The Mansion Spirit watched him from the edge of the mat, his wise eyes shining with a quiet, profound appreciation. In his long existence, he had seen many legacy candidates, many proud geniuses of starry sects who screamed and wavered under the simplest tempering. But this youth—who had grown up in a remote county faking a mortal life—possessed a raw, silent resilience that was far more terrifying than any natural talent tier.
The dark flame moved from the first meridian to the second. The pain doubled, a searing, white-hot agony that vibrated through his bones. The parallel meridians hummed, their walls melting slightly, the microscopic cracks fusing together as the dark flame steeled the structures.
For hours, the silent struggle continued inside the obsidian chamber. The air around Fang Lin warped slightly, the heat radiating from his skin creating small ripples in the room's spatial pressure, but the grounding formations held him firm.
As the dark flame entered the third meridian, reaching the deepest, most critical weakness near his chest, the intensity of the refining reached its peak. The heat was so dense that it began to touch the hidden grey seed resting quiet in his chest.
The grey seed—which had remained silent and dormant since his recovery—suddenly pulsed.
It was a deep, resonant vibration that did not release Qi or energy, but sent a shockwave directly through his consciousness. Fang Lin's vision blurred, the stone walls of the training chamber disappearing as his mind was violently pulled into a dark, boundless void.
He was no longer in the legacy mansion.
He was standing in a quiet, starry sky. Giant stars burned in the distance, their light clean and cold, casting long silhouettes across a star-spanning expanse. In the center of this expanse, a man and a woman stood. Their faces were obscured by bright, swirling starlight, but their hands radiated a powerful, ancient cosmic energy and a deep, windless Nine Nether aura—energies that were identical to the forces locked within Fang Lin's own soul.
They were holding a baby, wrapped in a simple, starlit cloth.
Beside them stood Uncle Wei. He looked travel-worn and weary, his broad shoulders slightly bent, but his eyes carried a fierce, protective light.
"The war is spreading to the outer ridges," the man spoke, his voice carrying a deep, starry resonance that vibrated through Fang Lin's very soul. "The Clan cannot hide him here. Take him and the seed to the lower realm, Brother Wei. He must grow away from the starry river until his foundation is deep enough to bear the name."
"I will protect him with my life." Uncle Wei replied, his voice heavy with a solemn, unyielding oath as he reached out and took the baby into his broad arms.
The woman leaned forward, her hand brushing the baby's forehead, her voice dropping into a quiet, tearful whisper that echoed across the starry void. "My child... grow strong. Do not look for us until you can break the starry river."
The vision shattered.
Fang Lin's eyes snapped open. He let out a sharp, ragged breath, his chest heaving as the dark void vanished, replaced by the cold black obsidian walls of the legacy chamber. The dark flame was already receding, flowing back into his spiritual sea and disappearing into the Ancient Spatial Furnace with a quiet, tired sigh from the Dark Flame Spirit.
The heat was gone.
Fang Lin sat in absolute silence, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sweat on his skin was cold, but beneath his flesh, his three parallel meridians felt different. The microscopic weaknesses, the cracks, and the uneven walls were completely gone. The paths were now pristine, steeled, and incredibly robust, humming with a quiet, disciplined power that was ready to handle the heaviest energy flow.
He had perfected his meridians.
But his mind was not on the breakthrough. His right hand slowly rose, his fingers clenching into a tight, white-knuckled fist against his chest, his dark eyes turning cold and resolved as he looked at the obsidian floor.
The starry river war...
Uncle Wei...
He now had a clue. A memory locked deep within the grey seed, triggered by the intense heat of his internal furnace. His parents had sent him away to protect him from a war in the starry river, and Uncle Wei had carried him down to this remote planet to keep him safe.
The Mansion Spirit walked over, his wise eyes scanning Fang Lin's stable breathing and the steeled, flawless Qi flow beneath his skin. A quiet expression of respect settled over the spirit's ancient features.
"Your parallel paths are perfected, Little Lin," the Mansion Spirit said softly. "You have forged a foundation that no junior on this continent can match. You are ready."
Fang Lin slowly relaxed his fist, his expression returning to its cold, economical composure, though a fierce, quiet light remained in his dark eyes.
"Yes, senior," Fang Lin said, his voice quiet but carrying a new, steeled weight. "I am ready."
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