The Earth Pulse Cave was not a cave of glittering crystals and dazzling energy beams. It was a deep, hollow space at the base of the mountain's main peak, accessible through a narrow, unassuming fissure. The air within was thick, heavy, and tasted of ancient stone and raw, potent earth. To a normal disciple, it might feel oppressive. To Li Chen, it was like coming home.
The senior disciple guarding the entrance handed him a time-keeping incense stick that would burn for precisely one week. "Do not overstay. The mountain's qi can crush a weak foundation as easily as it can strengthen a strong one."
Li Chen entered. The cavern was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness. The only light came from faint, phosphorescent moss that clung to the walls, illuminating a single, flat stone dais in the center. The very rock underfoot hummed with a deep, resonant energy that made the bones in his feet sing in sympathy.
He sat cross-legged on the dais, not rushing, and closed his eyes. He began with the "Unmoving Mountain Root Technique," but here, it was different. On the surface, he had to pull trace qi from the air. Here, he was submerged in it. The energy didn't need to be drawn; it sought to flood into him, to fill every pore and every meridian.
This was the danger. A reckless cultivator would open wide, trying to gorge on this power, risking ruptured meridians and a crippled dantian. Li Chen did the opposite. He tightened his control, becoming a meticulous filter. He allowed only the finest, purest strands of earth qi to enter, guiding them with infinite patience to continue the work of Skin Tempering.
He started not with a large section, but with a single fingertip. He focused the immense ambient power on that one small area, compressing and refining the skin cells until they felt less like flesh and more like layered jade. He spent an entire day on that single finger. The process was meditative, a deep, relaxing immersion in pure cultivation, devoid of politics or conflict.
On the second day, he expanded his focus to his entire hand. The progress was exponential compared to his work outside. By the end of the third day, the skin of his hands and forearms was perfectly tempered, shimmering with a healthy, subdued light that seemed to absorb the cave's faint glow rather than reflect it.
It was on the fourth day that he decided to push further. According to the "Verdant Sword Body Tempering Art," the next stage was Flesh Tempering—using qi to strengthen the muscle tissue, increasing density and power. The manual described a process of aggressively channeling qi to "pound" the flesh into submission.
Li Chen found the description crude. Instead of "pounding," he applied the same principle he used in the herb garden: nurturing. He visualized the earth qi not as a hammer, but as a rich, mineral-rich nutrient. He guided it into his arm muscles, allowing it to seep between the fibers, strengthening them from the inside out, encouraging them to grow denser and more resilient in harmony with his already-perfected skin.
It was a slower, more profound process. He felt his muscles not screaming in protest, but humming with newfound strength. He could feel the individual fibers aligning, weaving together into a tougher, more efficient whole.
During this deep work, his spirit, attuned to the earth, brushed against the cave's own energy flows. And he felt it again—the dissonance. It was fainter here, deep underground, but it was unmistakable. A thin, poisonous vein of energy running through the mountain's lifeblood, like a rusted wire in a living tree. It originated from the general direction of the Whispering Woods. This was no natural formation. This was a deliberate injection of a corrupting influence, a needle aimed at the sect's vital points.
He stored this knowledge away, a cold stone of certainty in his gut. Elder Guo was right. This was a dangerous secret.
On the sixth day, a commotion at the cave entrance broke his concentration. The incense stick was almost burnt out. Another disciple was waiting—Luo, the boy he had defeated in the competition, accompanied by a senior disciple Li Chen recognized from Elder Feng's law enforcement unit.
"His time is up. Is he trying to steal extra time?" Luo sneered.
The senior disciple looked at the last nub of incense. "He has until it extinguishes. But not a moment longer."
Li Chen rose from the dais. He felt... different. Heavier, yet more fluid. His skin felt like a supple, flexible armor, and the muscles beneath hummed with a latent power that was completely integrated. He had successfully, perfectly, transitioned into the Flesh Tempering stage without a single ruptured capillary or strained tendon. His foundation was not just strong; it was seamless.
He walked towards the entrance, his footsteps eerily silent on the stone. As he passed Luo, he didn't look at him. But Luo instinctively took a half-step back. There was no aura of aggression around Li Chen, but a palpable sense of density, of immovability, that was unnerving.
"Enjoy your time in the dirt, dirt-digger," Luo muttered, trying to reclaim his bravado.
Li Chen stopped. He turned his head slowly and looked at Luo, not with anger, but with the same dispassionate gaze he would use to examine a blighted plant. "The mountain knows its own," he said, his voice calm and low, resonating slightly with the cave's energy. "And it knows what does not belong."
The words were simple, but carried an unshakable certainty that struck Luo silent. The senior disciple from Elder Feng's faction narrowed his eyes, sensing something more in the statement than just a retort.
Li Chen walked out of the Earth Pulse Cave and into the sunlight. He didn't feel triumphant. He felt resolved. He had solidified his foundation and confirmed his suspicions. The tournament, the cave, it was all prelude. The true struggle for the soul of the Verdant Sword Sect was just beginning, and he, the unremarkable disciple with the Low-Grade Earth Root, was perhaps the only one who could see the cracks forming in its very foundation.