Chapter 1: A Foundation for the Future
The path of cultivation had never been about single path.
Across the vast reaches of the Great Desolate, legends were forged in a thousand different ways.
Some inherited the shattered jade slips of ancient gods and demons.
Some awakened the blood of ancient beasts.
Others tempered their souls through the fires of war, the silence of seclusion, or the sudden lightning of enlightenment.
Every path had produced heroes who could pluck stars from the sky and every path had consumed millions of lives that never reached the first peak.
Mo Yuan sat cross-legged on a stone platform jutting from a cliffside, suspended high above a sea of churning clouds.
This was the Outer Disciple Peak of the Azure Mist Sect, a place where thousands of youths struggled for a single chance at immortality.
Spiritual energy, flowed through his body like a slow, deliberate stream.
It had been seven days since he woke up in this body, and seven days since he realized the laws of his old world were gone.
In their place was a world governed by raw power and cold discipline.
In this life, Mo Yuan was a "Mediocre Disciple," but he was far from the lowest of the low.
His spiritual root was average and his progress was steady, though not remarkable as top geniuses, and his reputation while minor, was enough for him to avoid being overlooked completely.
To the sect, he wasn't a standout, but neither was he invisible, he was a quiet presence among the countless disciples, slowly carving out his place in the vast hierarchy.
But he possessed a secret the Azure Mist Sect would never understand.
It was not a heaven-defying treasure that granted instant breakthroughs, nor a divine inheritance that allowed him to soar past realms overnight. Instead, it was a strange ancient mirror.
Before him, hovering at eye level, was a disc of bronze-colored stone. It was plain, without carvings or glowing gems. It gave off no warmth, no ancient voice, and no promises of instant power.
Instead, it silently guided his cultivation, correcting mistakes and stabilizing his progress.
It would not make him strong overnight, but it ensured that every realm he reached was solid, complete, and without hidden flaws.
As he was lost in thought, a faint, golden script slowly etched itself across the bronze surface, appearing with the quiet authority of an imperial decree.
[ Reflection: Qi density is 67% of the Heaven-favored standard. ]
[ Observation: Foundation stability is "Normal." Impurities detected in the third and seventh meridians. ]
Mo Yuan exhaled softly, a trace of white mist leaving his lips. The mirror was harsh comparison for him.
In the Azure Mist Sect, disciples were taught to "charge the gate," gathering as much Qi as possible and breaking through the Qi Condensation realm to earn better resources and status.
To the sect elders, his condition looked ready for a breakthrough.
But to the mirror, it was a house built on cracked wood looking fine now, but later his Qi and strength could weaken because of its hidden flaws.
He closed his eyes and focused inwardly. He could feel the Qi now, thick and sluggish like liquid light.
As it flowed through his third meridian, it hit a tiny blockage. For a normal disciple, this would be a minor problem a bottleneck to push through with willpower and a few Spirit Pills.
But Mo Yuan didn't force it. He trusted the mirror and knew that to grow strong with a solid foundation, he couldn't rush. Slowly, he began to smooth it out.
He slowed his breathing, letting his heartbeat drop to a soft thrum.
Carefully, he guided a sliver of Qi to wear down the impurity, like polishing a stone with a silk cloth.
Minutes turned into hours.
The sun moved across the sky, casting long purple shadows over the sea of clouds. His muscles ached, and his simple gray outer disciple robes were soaked with the black sweat of expelled impurities.
Suddenly, a memory of his past life flickered about how he had been obsessed with making quick money, chasing every opportunity that promised fast gains.
At first, it seemed like he was winning, accumulating wealth and success.
But over time, he got addicted to online gambling, risking more than he could afford, and nearly lost everything he had built.
He had lived a life of shortcuts, thinking he was clever, only to face ruin in the end.
'Not this time', he thought, his focus sharpening like a blade.
Every mistake from his past life reminded him that rushing or taking shortcuts only led to ruin.
In this world, strength had to be earned step by step. He would grow slowly and steadily, building a foundation that could never be broken.
[ Reflection: Qi concentration uneven in the left arm. Circulation stable elsewhere. ]
The mirror's update was instant. Mo Yuan didn't feel frustrated instead he felt thankful and he adjusted his posture slightly, and the hiccup in his left arm disappeared.
Far below the cliff, sounds from the sect drifted up. He heard the bell and saw streaks of light with Inner Disciples on flying swords rushing to the Martial Hall to earn contributions points and improve their rankings.
From the path below the cliff, a mocking voice called up. "Still sitting there, Mo Yuan? The monthly assessment is in one week. If you haven't reached the second stage of Qi Condensation by then, the Sect Steward will send you to the laundry pits."
Mo Yuan didn't open his eyes. He recognized the voice, it was a disciple named Wang Wei who had joined the sect at the same time as him but had already broken through twice.
To Mo Yuan's inner sight, Wang Wei's aura was like a candle flickering in strong wind it seemed bright, but unstable. His foundation was sloppy, built on haste and pride.
Mo Yuan ignored him. If Wang Wei was the wind, he was the mountain.
Wang Wei's eyes narrowed as he saw Mo Yuan ignoring him. Anger flashed across his face."We'll see if you can stay like this in a week!" he shouted, then stomped off in a huff, his figure quickly disappearing down the path.
Mo Yuan let out a quiet sigh.
Memories of his past life surfaced how he had read countless novels and stories, tracing the rise and fall of countless cultivators.
He had known the plots, the pitfalls, the shortcuts that led to ruin.
Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the stars began to watch him. The bronze mirror shimmered one last time.
[ Foundation fully aligned. ]
[ Breakthrough possible. ]
[ Warning: Maintain absolute stability. The Dao does not forgive a trembling hand. ]
A small, tired smile appeared on Mo Yuan's lips. Finally, his foundation seemed stable, it had been a week since he transmigrated. He stood up, bones cracking like dry wood.
His aura was still Qi Refining first layer, the lowest stage, but it was steadier and far better than rushing forward with an unstable foundation.
He looked toward the grand spires of the Azure Mist Sect's inner sanctum. Somewhere in there, geniuses were breaking through realms in weeks, fueled by pills and ancient legacies.
At first glance, cultivating fast seemed impressive, but Mo Yuan remembered the mistakes of his past life.
He turned back to his meditation mat. This time, he would cultivate steadily, building a perfect foundation. It might not bring him quick rewards, but his future self would be grateful.
The question was never who could run the fastest. It was who could walk the path without ever having to step backward.
Mo Yuan closed his eyes and began to cultivate again. This time, he would walk it perfectly.