Though their talent could not compare to Chen Nianzhi's—who had begun cultivating at the age of three—the twins were far ahead of most, who could only begin at eleven or twelve.
Thus, the days passed peacefully.Before he knew it, four months had gone by.
"Huuh…"
Exhaling a long breath of mist, Chen Nianzhi slowly opened his eyes. A faint smile touched his lips—his spiritual energy had grown a little denser again.
After reaching the ninth layer of Qi Refining, a cultivator was not yet ready to build their Foundation.The so-called "Foundation Establishment" was the process of compressing one's spiritual energy into liquid essence, transforming quantity into quality—a metamorphosis of life itself.
To achieve it required immense reserves of true qi.Most cultivators spent years saturating their meridians with energy, tempering and strengthening them to their limit before even attempting the step.
Only after their meridians were tough enough to withstand the strain could they safely condense true essence.Even then, without the aid of a Foundation Pill, the success rate was only one in ten.Failure meant one's meridians would burst apart—instant death.
The late Sixth Elder, Chen Qingmeng, had perished at this very threshold.
A Foundation Pill, by contrast, greatly increased the chances of success: it softened spiritual power, reinforced the meridians, and made the transformation far less dangerous.
But Chen Nianzhi's body was not ordinary.Nourished since childhood by Primordial Chaos Qi, his meridians were broader and tougher than those of most cultivators at his level.If he continued tempering them for a few more years, he estimated their resilience would exceed that of common peak-stage practitioners by at least double—giving him nearly the same assurance as if he had a Foundation Pill in hand.
"My meridians are wider than most; they can hold thirty to forty percent more qi," he thought."That alone gives me an extra margin for success.If I keep strengthening myself with the qi of chaos, I'll have a fifty or sixty percent chance of breaking through—and with a Foundation Pill, it would be almost certain."
Smiling at the thought, he left his meditation chamber, intending to check on his spirit fish and the flock of Violet-Plumed Geese.But as he stepped outside, a flash of color caught his eye—the peaches on his Spirit Peach Tree were nearly ripe.
"So many this year… even more than before."
He frowned slightly, surprised.It seemed that the Primordial Chaos Qi had subtly altered the tree's roots.Its yield had increased year after year—fifty-six peaches the first, sixty the next, and now over seventy ripening fruits.
That was already the upper limit for a low-grade first-tier Spirit Peach Tree.If it advanced another step, it would reach the mid-grade tier.
"Could it be that this peach tree can evolve with age?" he wondered."At this rate, in another year or two, it might really advance a grade."
A mid-grade tree would bear twice as many peaches—nearly a hundred each harvest.The thought made his heart light.
That same afternoon, at the misty edge of Lingzhou Lake, three cultivators stood watching the distant island at its heart.
A middle-aged woman with a charming but weathered face sighed softly.
"I never imagined the Chen clan possessed such a beautiful spiritual lake.To cultivate here for the rest of one's life—what bliss that would be."
A thin, skeletal old man beside her sneered.
"Dream on. This is Chen clan territory. With our cultivation, claiming it is pure fantasy.I've heard they raise their Azure Spirit Fish here.If we could seize them all, we'd have resources for a decade."
"Enough," said the third—a burly man in gray robes, his voice low and steady.
"We're not here for scenery or fish.The one who killed our junior brother is here. The Master sent us to avenge him—no mistakes."
The three were disciples of none other than Zhang the Old Demon.Their slain "junior brother" had been one of the fiends exterminated at Pingyuan Town.
The woman scowled.
"That old monster fears Chen Changxuan's wrath, so he hides behind us instead!You want me to face Chen Nianzhi—a ninth-layer cultivator—with formations at his back? That's suicide."
Among demonic sects, loyalty meant nothing.Fathers devoured sons, masters slaughtered disciples; betrayal was as natural as breathing.
The skeletal old man merely shook his head, his eyes cold.
"You forget—our master bound us all with the Soul-Devouring Curse.Obey, and you might live. Disobey… and you'll be eaten alive by your own heart demons."
The burly man, the strongest among them, spoke again.
"I have a Six-Ghost Talisman from the master. It can counter ordinary formations.Three of us together against one Chen brat—he won't escape."
He turned toward the island, eyes hardening.
"Before night falls. We strike now."
They leapt aboard a small spirit boat and cut across the shimmering water.
Unfortunately for them, fortune was not on their side.Halfway across, Chen Nianzhi—who was checking the spirit fish near the shore—spotted them immediately.
"Demonic cultivators?"
His pupils contracted. The aura of demonic qi rolling off the strangers was unmistakable.
He turned and sprinted back to the island, activating its protective array.
A thick mist billowed from the lake's surface, engulfing the island in a shifting veil of clouds.
"Damn it!"
The burly man's face twisted.
"Too late to turn back—kill our way in!"
The three plunged into the mist.Instantly, visibility shrank to less than a dozen feet; even their spiritual sense was smothered.
The skeletal old man cursed.
"This fog blinds both sight and spirit sense. Stay close—within an arm's length!If we separate, he'll pick us off one by one!"
The lake grew eerily silent.Only the lapping of waves echoed through the fog—and somewhere within, the faint whisper of a sword being drawn.