Lin Feng woke before dawn, his body stiff but healed. The healing pill from Whispering Vale had done its work—his ribs no longer ached with each breath, and the bruises had faded to yellow shadows on his skin. He performed a series of stretches from the Fortress Foundation Scripture, feeling his muscles loosen and his spiritual energy flow more freely.
Yue was already awake, sitting alert by the door of the pagoda. She'd taken to her role as guardian seriously, and Lin Feng suspected she'd spent much of the night monitoring for threats even in the safety of the pocket dimension.
"Ready for today?" he asked her.
Always ready, came her confident response, though Lin Feng could sense a thread of curiosity beneath it. Yue didn't fully understand where they were going or what would happen, but she trusted him.
That trust felt heavy. Lin Feng was leading them both into danger, and unlike him, Yue couldn't choose to walk away. She was bound to him, her fate tied to his.
He pushed the thought aside. There was no room for doubt now.
After a simple breakfast of rice porridge purchased from the inn's kitchen, Lin Feng gathered his belongings. He left most of his valuables in the Spirit Gathering Pagoda—the grimoire, the formation disk, the majority of his spirit stones. He brought only what he'd need: his sword, a change of clothes, water, and the five hundred spirit stones for payment.
And Yue, of course.
The address Whisper had provided led him to the seediest part of Azure Peak City's lower district. Here, the buildings were older, shabbier, crowded closer together. The spiritual energy was thinner, contaminated by the press of too many mortals and low-level cultivators living in close quarters.
The streets were already busy despite the early hour. Mortal laborers heading to work in the upper city. Street vendors setting up their stalls. A few cultivators moving with purpose, their robes marking them as sect members on official business.
Lin Feng found the building—a rundown tavern called "The Broken Cup." Paint peeled from its walls, and the sign hung crooked. It looked like the kind of place desperate people went to forget their problems, not where one would find a renowned combat instructor.
But appearances could be deceiving in the cultivation world.
Lin Feng pushed open the door. Inside, the tavern was dim and mostly empty. A few early drinkers nursed their cups in corners. The bartender, a grizzled man with the look of a retired soldier, glanced up as Lin Feng entered.
"We're open, but breakfast won't be ready for another hour," the bartender said.
"I'm looking for Old Ghost," Lin Feng replied quietly.
The bartender's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. "Back door. Downstairs. If he kills you, don't haunt my establishment."
"I'll try not to."
Lin Feng made his way to the indicated door. Behind it, stairs descended into darkness. No lights, no formations providing illumination—just stone steps leading down into shadow.
Yue pressed close to his side as they descended. Lin Feng counted the steps—fifty, a hundred, two hundred. They were descending far deeper than the tavern's cellar should extend. A pocket dimension, then, similar to how the Shadow Market existed beneath The Floating Leaf.
The stairs finally opened into a barren wasteland.
The transition was jarring. One moment Lin Feng was on stone steps in darkness, the next he stood on cracked earth under a blood-red sky. The air smelled of ash and ozone. Heat radiated from the ground, making the air shimmer.
A figure materialized before him, appearing so suddenly that Lin Feng's hand went to his sword.
The man who appeared was old—ancient, even. Rail-thin, his skin like weathered leather stretched over bone. Scars covered every visible inch of his flesh, some old and faded, others looking fresher. His eyes were chips of black ice, empty of warmth or mercy.
But it was the spiritual pressure that made Lin Feng's knees want to buckle. This man was Foundation Establishment realm, at least. Possibly higher. The weight of his cultivation pressed down like a physical force.
Old Ghost.
The old man studied Lin Feng in silence for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a blade. Then those black eyes shifted to Yue, who was growling softly, her hackles raised.
"Qi Refining Third Layer," Old Ghost rasped, his voice like gravel being crushed underfoot. "Spirit beast companion. System bearer." His eyes narrowed. "Whisper's recommendation. And you carry the scent of Shen Wu's legacy."
Lin Feng's hand tightened on his sword. How much did this man know? How dangerous was it that he'd been identified so easily?
Old Ghost's lips curled in what might have been a smile. "Relax, boy. I can see your soul. The Myriad Fortress System leaves a mark—distinctive patterns in how your spiritual energy flows. I knew Shen Wu. Not well, but enough." He circled Lin Feng slowly, like a predator assessing prey. "He was almost good enough to kill me once. Almost."
"Will you train me?" Lin Feng asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"That depends." Old Ghost stopped in front of him. "Are you willing to die? Repeatedly? Painfully? Without knowing if the next death will be the one the resurrection formation can't fix?"
Lin Feng met those cold eyes. "Yes."
"Good answer. Most lie to themselves about their willingness to suffer. You at least sound like you mean it." Old Ghost extended a withered hand. "Five hundred spirit stones."
Lin Feng produced the payment. The stones vanished into Old Ghost's storage ring.
"Two weeks," Old Ghost said. "I'll teach you basic combat forms, spiritual sense techniques, and how to coordinate with your summons. I'll also kill you. Repeatedly. This pocket dimension has a resurrection formation—every time you die here, you'll revive at that marker." He pointed to a stone pillar about fifty yards away. "But you'll feel every bit of the pain. The formation can't eliminate that, only undo the physical damage."
He gestured, and the ground beneath Lin Feng's feet erupted.
Skeletal hands burst from the earth, dozens of them, clawing at his ankles. Lin Feng shouted in surprise and tried to jump back, but the hands were too fast. They grabbed his legs, his arms, pulling him down.
Yue lunged forward with a snarl, her jaws snapping through bone. Her ethereal form phased through some hands while biting others, buying Lin Feng precious seconds. He drew his sword and hacked wildly at the grasping fingers, spiritual energy flaring along the blade.
For a moment, he thought he might actually break free.
Then a blade kissed his throat from behind.
Cold steel. Sharp enough that Lin Feng felt a thin line of blood well up where it touched his skin.
"Dead," Old Ghost whispered in his ear. "Five seconds from initial attack to death. Pathetic."
The skeletal hands vanished. Old Ghost stepped back, lowering a sword that Lin Feng hadn't even seen him draw.
Lin Feng spun around, heart hammering, hand instinctively going to his throat. The cut was shallow—barely a scratch. But it had been placed with perfect precision. One more inch of pressure and his throat would have been opened.
"You panic," Old Ghost said, his tone clinical, detached. "You flail. You have no foundation, no proper technique, no killer instinct. Your wolf is better trained than you are, and she's operating purely on instinct." He crossed his arms. "The system gives you power, boy. Buildings and armies and grand strategic advantages. But power without skill is just a bright target painted on your back. You'll be dead within a month if I don't fix you."
Lin Feng forced himself to take a slow breath, pushing down the adrenaline. "Then teach me."
"Oh, I will." Old Ghost's smile was cruel. "Five hundred spirit stones buys you two weeks of my time. Most students quit after three deaths. The record is seventeen deaths before breaking. How many can you endure?"
Lin Feng looked at the old man's scarred face, at the wasteland around them, at the stone pillar that marked the resurrection point.
He thought about the Crimson Blade Sect. The Thousand Poison Valley. The enemies hunting him even now. The long, brutal path to immortality that stretched ahead.
"As many as it takes," he said quietly.
Old Ghost's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those black eyes. Approval, maybe. Or respect. "We'll see. Now, let's begin your first real lesson."
He gestured, and three figures materialized from the shimmering air. They were constructs—human-shaped but clearly not alive, their features too perfect, too identical. Each held a weapon: sword, spear, and axe.
"Lesson one," Old Ghost said. "Fighting multiple opponents. Your wolf can help, but she's not allowed to kill them—only distract. You must land the killing blows yourself." He paused. "These constructs are set to Qi Refining Third Layer, same as you. They're not particularly skilled, but they'll coordinate against you. Survive for five minutes and we'll move to the next exercise."
"And if I don't survive?"
"Then you'll resurrect and try again. And again. And again, until you either succeed or quit." Old Ghost's voice was pitiless. "Begin."
The constructs attacked.
Lin Feng barely got his sword up in time to block the first strike—a spear thrust aimed at his chest. The force of the blow sent him staggering backward, and he nearly tripped over his own feet.
The axe-wielder came from his left. Lin Feng tried to dodge, but his footwork was sloppy. The axe caught his shoulder, and pain exploded through him. Blood sprayed.
Yue darted in, snapping at the sword-wielder's legs. The construct stumbled, and Lin Feng took the opening to strike. His blade cut deep into the construct's side.
But he'd forgotten about the spear-wielder.
The spear punched through his back and out his chest.
Lin Feng looked down in shock at the spear point protruding from his sternum. There was no pain yet—his mind hadn't caught up to the damage. Then the agony hit, a white-hot spike of torment that drove every thought from his mind.
He tried to breathe and couldn't. Blood filled his lungs. His vision darkened at the edges.
The world went black.
Lin Feng gasped and lurched upright, his hand going to his chest. No wound. No blood. Just smooth, unbroken skin beneath his robe.
He was lying on the ground next to the stone pillar. The resurrection point.
[Death Count: 1][Cause: Spear through chest cavity][Lesson: Situational awareness—never focus on one opponent when fighting multiple enemies]
The system's clinical analysis felt almost mocking.
Old Ghost stood a few yards away, watching with those emotionless eyes. "First death. How do you feel?"
Lin Feng tried to answer, but his throat was tight. The phantom pain of the spear remained, his body remembering what his mind knew hadn't really happened. He'd died. Actually died. The spear had pierced his heart, collapsed his lungs, ended his life.
And now he was alive again, standing in the same wasteland under the same blood-red sky.
"I..." Lin Feng swallowed hard. "I feel like I was just killed by a spear."
"Good. That means the formation is working properly." Old Ghost's tone was matter-of-fact. "The pain is important. It's what makes the lesson stick. If death was painless, you wouldn't learn to avoid it." He gestured toward the training area. "Again. And this time, try not to forget about all three opponents while you're fighting one."
Lin Feng forced himself to stand. His legs shook. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to leave this place, to never experience that agony again.
But he'd paid five hundred spirit stones. More importantly, he'd promised himself he would do whatever it took to survive.
He walked back to the training area.
"Yue," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Same strategy. Distract, don't kill. I need to be aware of all three at once this time."
Understood, Yue's thought carried concern for him, but also determination. We learn. We survive.
The constructs attacked again.
This time, Lin Feng forced himself to keep track of all three opponents. When the spear-wielder thrust, he dodged and immediately checked the positions of the other two. The axe-wielder was circling to his right—he adjusted his stance to keep all three in his peripheral vision.
Yue harassed the sword-wielder, keeping it off-balance. Lin Feng engaged the spear-wielder, blocking its thrusts while staying mobile, never letting himself get pinned down.
He lasted almost two minutes before the axe caught him in the side, nearly cutting him in half.
The pain was indescribable. Lin Feng's scream echoed across the wasteland as he collapsed, his life bleeding out onto the cracked earth.
Death came as a mercy.
[Death Count: 2][Cause: Massive trauma to torso][Lesson: Mobility is survival—standing still makes you an easy target]
Lin Feng revived at the pillar, gasping, his hands clutching at his intact sides. The phantom pain was almost worse the second time, now that he knew what was coming.
Yue was there immediately, pressing her head against his chest, whining softly. Through their bond, he could feel her distress at seeing him die repeatedly.
"I'm okay," he told her, though his voice shook. "This is... this is part of training."
Old Ghost approached. "Two minutes. Better. You're learning." There was no praise in his voice, just clinical observation. "But you're still too reactive. You're responding to their attacks instead of dictating the flow of combat. Again."
The third attempt, Lin Feng tried to be more aggressive. He attacked the spear-wielder first, driving it back with a flurry of strikes. But in his aggression, he overextended. The sword-wielder's blade took his head off.
Death number three was mercifully quick.
[Death Count: 3][Cause: Decapitation][Lesson: Aggression without control is suicide]
The fourth attempt, he lasted three and a half minutes by playing defensively, using Yue's harassment to create openings. But he couldn't land a killing blow—his sword strikes lacked the power to punch through the constructs' defenses.
The spear found his heart again.
[Death Count: 4]
The fifth attempt, he managed to kill the sword-wielder by using Yue as bait—letting the construct overcommit to attacking her, then striking from its blind spot. But the victory left him exposed, and both remaining constructs struck simultaneously.
The axe split his skull while the spear pierced his kidney.
[Death Count: 5]
By the eighth death, Lin Feng had stopped screaming when he revived. The pain was still horrific, but he was learning to process it, to push through it.
By the twelfth death, he could stand without shaking.
By the fifteenth death, he killed two constructs before the third one got him.
And on the nineteenth attempt, he finally succeeded.
Lin Feng moved with purpose now, his footwork cleaner, his strikes more precise. He used Yue perfectly—not as a direct combatant but as a distraction, forcing the constructs to divide their attention. When the sword-wielder turned to snap at Yue, Lin Feng's blade took it in the throat. When the spear-wielder tried to catch him in a pincer with the axe-wielder, he rolled between them and came up striking, his sword finding the spear-wielder's heart.
The axe-wielder was alone now. It pressed forward aggressively, but Lin Feng had learned. He stayed mobile, circling, forcing it to chase him. When it overcommitted to a powerful downward chop, Lin Feng sidestepped and drove his sword up under its arm, finding the gap in its defenses.
The construct dissolved into motes of light.
Lin Feng stood in the center of the training ground, breathing hard, covered in sweat but uninjured. Alive.
[Training Scenario Complete: Multiple Opponent Combat - Basic][Deaths: 19][Time: 4 hours, 37 minutes][Assessment: Acceptable for first day. Student shows capacity to learn from failure.]
Old Ghost approached, his expression unreadable. "Nineteen deaths. Within expected range for day one." He produced a water skin and tossed it to Lin Feng. "Rest. Drink. You have ten minutes before the next exercise."
Lin Feng caught the water skin with trembling hands and drank deeply. His mouth was dry, his body exhausted despite the resurrection formation healing all physical damage. Mental fatigue was another matter entirely.
Yue pressed against his leg, seeking comfort as much as giving it. Through their bond, Lin Feng could feel her own exhaustion—maintaining solid form for hours of combat had drained her spiritual energy significantly.
"How did I do?" Lin Feng asked Old Ghost, needing to hear something—anything—beyond clinical assessment.
Old Ghost was silent for a moment. Then: "You didn't quit. Most do, after the first five deaths. The pain breaks them." He looked at Lin Feng with those cold eyes. "You have endurance. That's worth more than talent. Talent gives you a high ceiling. Endurance determines if you'll live long enough to reach it."
It wasn't quite praise, but coming from this scarred, terrifying old man, it felt like approval.
"Next exercise," Old Ghost said after Lin Feng's ten minutes were up. "Spiritual sense training. You need to learn to extend your awareness beyond line of sight. Cultivators who can't sense attacks coming from behind are cultivators who die young."
He gestured, and the wasteland transformed. Massive boulders erupted from the ground, creating a maze-like environment. Walls of stone cut off sight lines in every direction.
"I'll be hunting you," Old Ghost said simply. "You must survive for ten minutes using only your spiritual sense to track my position. Your wolf can help, but I'll be suppressing my spiritual signature—you'll need to learn to detect the subtle signs. The absence of ambient energy. The displacement of air. The killing intent that precedes a strike."
Lin Feng's eyes widened. "You're going to hunt me? At your cultivation level?"
"I'll limit myself to Foundation Establishment First Layer. Still far above you, but not instantly lethal." Old Ghost's smile was predatory. "And I'll give you a five-second head start. Run."
Lin Feng ran.
He dashed into the maze of boulders, Yue at his side, his heart already pounding. Five seconds wasn't much of a head start, and Foundation Establishment First Layer was still multiple major realms above his current power.
This was going to hurt.
Lin Feng extended his spiritual sense as far as he could, trying to detect Old Ghost's presence. The technique he'd learned from the Whispering Vale jade slips helped—he could feel the spiritual energy in the environment, sense the flow and eddies.
But Old Ghost had suppressed his signature completely. It was like the old man didn't exist.
Then Lin Feng felt it—the smallest disturbance in the ambient energy, like a ripple in still water. He threw himself to the side just as a sword blade carved through the space where his head had been.
Old Ghost stood there, his blade already returning to guard position. "Better. You're not completely blind." He vanished.
Lin Feng scrambled to his feet and ran again, his spiritual sense stretched to its limit. Yue was tracking too, her senses superior to his in some ways. Together, they might actually survive this.
There! Yue's warning came a split second before Old Ghost appeared from behind a boulder. Lin Feng dodged the strike aimed at his spine, rolled, and came up running.
He lasted three minutes before a sword took him in the back.
[Death Count: 20][Cause: Sword through spine][Lesson: Spiritual sense must be maintained constantly, not just when you think danger is near]
The training continued.
Hour after hour. Death after death. Each exercise designed to teach a specific lesson, each failure punished with pain and resurrection.
Old Ghost was merciless but not cruel. Every death had purpose. Every lesson built on the previous one. And slowly, painfully, Lin Feng began to improve.
His spiritual sense grew sharper. His combat forms became cleaner. His coordination with Yue evolved from chaotic to tactical. He learned to move efficiently, to conserve energy, to read an opponent's intentions from their stance and energy flow.
By the time Old Ghost finally called a halt, the blood-red sky had darkened to deep crimson. Lin Feng had died thirty-seven times.
Thirty-seven times he had experienced the agony of death. Thirty-seven times he had revived at the resurrection pillar, forced himself to stand, and continued training.
"First day complete," Old Ghost announced. "You may leave and return tomorrow at dawn. Or you may rest here for four hours and continue. Your choice."
Lin Feng wanted nothing more than to leave, to collapse in the safety of his inn room, to sleep without the fear of dying. But he also knew that every moment mattered. The Crimson Blade Sect was still hunting. The Thousand Poison Valley was still searching. He had two weeks to become competent enough to survive them.
"I'll stay," he said hoarsely.
Something that might have been respect flickered across Old Ghost's expression. "Stubborn. Good. There's a shelter over there." He pointed to a small structure that had appeared at some point during the training. "Food and water inside. Four hours. Then we continue."
Lin Feng stumbled to the shelter with Yue at his side. Inside was a simple sleeping mat, a basin of water, and some basic food—dried meat, rice, fruit. All mundane, nothing that would aid cultivation, but enough to sustain life.
He ate mechanically, his body demanding fuel even though his mind was numb with exhaustion. Yue ate too, her misty form solidifying enough to consume the spiritual energy from the food.
Then Lin Feng collapsed onto the sleeping mat.
He expected nightmares of death and pain. Instead, he fell into a dreamless sleep so deep it felt like falling into a black void.
Four hours later, Old Ghost's voice jerked him awake.
"Time to continue, boy. We're just getting started."
Lin Feng groaned and forced himself up.
Day one was over.
Thirteen more days to go.
The second day began before Lin Feng felt remotely ready for it.
His body had recovered—the resurrection formation ensured that. But his mind carried the weight of thirty-seven deaths, thirty-seven experiences of agony that no amount of physical healing could erase. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the spear punching through his chest, the axe splitting his skull, the sword severing his spine.
But he stood anyway. Ate the simple food Old Ghost provided. Drank water until his throat no longer felt like sand. And when the old instructor materialized from the blood-red shadows of the wasteland, Lin Feng was waiting.
"Day two," Old Ghost announced. "Yesterday taught you the basics of combat awareness and spiritual sense. Today, we focus on technique refinement. You swing your sword like you're chopping wood—functional but crude. We'll fix that."
He produced a jade slip and tossed it to Lin Feng. "Basic Sword Forms. Study it."
Lin Feng pressed the slip to his forehead, and knowledge flooded in. Not the overwhelming torrent of Shen Wu's original transfer, but a clear, systematic instruction in fundamental swordsmanship. The proper grip, the correct stance, the efficient ways to cut, thrust, and parry. Seven basic forms, each designed to flow into the next.
It was simultaneously simple and complex—simple in concept, complex in execution.
"You have five minutes to memorize the forms," Old Ghost said. "Then you'll practice them under combat conditions."
Lin Feng studied the jade slip's contents frantically. The forms were elegant in their efficiency, each movement wasting no energy, each transition flowing naturally. They were nothing like the wild, desperate swings he'd been using.
Five minutes passed in what felt like seconds.
"Time," Old Ghost said. He gestured, and a single construct appeared—a sword-wielding opponent identical to the ones from yesterday. "Demonstrate Form One while fighting. Every mistake earns you a death. Begin."
The construct attacked.
Lin Feng tried to execute Form One—a rising diagonal slash from low guard position. But in the heat of combat, his body reverted to old habits. His grip was wrong, his footwork sloppy. The construct's blade slipped past his defense and opened his throat.
Death number thirty-eight came swiftly.
[Death Count: 38][Cause: Carotid artery severed][Lesson: Technique must become instinct before it's useful in combat]
Lin Feng revived, walked back to the training ground, and tried again.
Form One, executed properly this time. The rising slash flowed from his movement, his entire body aligned behind the strike. It felt right in a way his previous swings never had.
The construct attacked. Lin Feng defended with Form Two—a circular parry that redirected the incoming blade and created an opening. His counter-strike—Form Three—should have taken the construct in the chest.
But his timing was off by a fraction of a second. The construct recovered and drove its sword through his stomach.
[Death Count: 39]
Again. And again. And again.
Each death taught him something. Each resurrection gave him another chance to refine the technique. Slowly, painfully, the forms began to sink from his conscious mind into his muscle memory.
By death number fifty-two, Lin Feng could execute all seven forms in sequence without thinking.
By death number sixty-one, he could transition between forms based on the construct's attacks, responding appropriately to each threat.
By death number seventy-four, he killed the construct cleanly, his sword flowing through the forms like water following a riverbed.
[Training Scenario Complete: Basic Sword Forms Under Pressure][Deaths: 37 (during this exercise)][Assessment: Acceptable. Student demonstrates capacity to integrate new techniques under duress.]
Old Ghost nodded, the closest thing to approval Lin Feng had seen. "Better. You're no longer just flailing with a sharp piece of metal. Now we add complications."
The complications were Yue.
"You've been treating your wolf as a separate fighter," Old Ghost said. "That's inefficient. She's bonded to you—there should be perfect coordination. Your strikes should set up her attacks. Her positioning should create openings for you. You should move as one unit, not two individuals who happen to be in the same fight."
He summoned three constructs this time. "Kill them all. Use the sword forms. Coordinate with your wolf. You have until I decide you've failed enough to learn the lesson."
This exercise was different. Lin Feng had to split his attention between executing proper technique and maintaining awareness of Yue's position and intentions. The first dozen attempts were disasters—he'd lose track of her and get struck from behind, or she'd attack at the wrong moment and create an opening for the enemy instead of closing one.
But slowly, through death after painful death, they began to synchronize.
Lin Feng learned to feel Yue's presence through their bond, to sense her movements without seeing them. She learned to read his intentions from the way his spiritual energy shifted, attacking when he created openings and defending when he needed breathing room.
By death number ninety-three, they moved together like dancers performing a rehearsed routine. Lin Feng's Form Four—a downward cut—would drive an opponent's guard low. Yue would immediately go high, jaws snapping at the exposed throat. When a construct tried to strike Lin Feng's back, Yue would intercept, and Lin Feng would execute Form Six—a spinning slash that used his whole body's rotation for power.
The constructs fell one by one.
[Training Scenario Complete: Coordinated Combat][Deaths: 19 (during this exercise)][Bond Strength with Yue increased to 92%][Assessment: Good progress. Student and bonded unit achieving tactical synchronization.]
Old Ghost called a halt for water and rest. Lin Feng collapsed, not from physical exhaustion—the resurrection formation kept his body fresh—but from mental fatigue. Dying almost a hundred times in two days was taking a psychological toll.
Yue curled up next to him, her misty form flickering with exhaustion. She'd been dying almost as much as he had, experiencing her own cycle of death and resurrection. But she never hesitated, never showed fear. Just determination.
Pack stays strong, her thought was quiet but firm. Together.
"Together," Lin Feng agreed, resting his hand on her head.
Old Ghost approached with the water skin. "You're doing better than most. Three students quit on day two. They couldn't handle the mental strain of repeated death." He sat cross-legged on the cracked earth, an oddly casual posture for someone so terrifying. "But you need to understand something, boy. This training isn't just about teaching you to fight. It's about teaching you that death isn't the end."
Lin Feng looked up at the scarred old man, confused.
"Cultivators fear death," Old Ghost continued. "It makes them hesitate. Makes them conservative when they should be aggressive, makes them freeze when they should move. You're learning what it feels like to die. Over and over. And you're learning that you can come back from it."
He met Lin Feng's eyes. "In real combat, you'll only die once. But because you've experienced death a hundred times here, you won't freeze in fear when that final moment comes. You'll fight until your last breath, because you've trained your body and mind to keep going even when death seems certain."
Lin Feng absorbed that. It made a twisted kind of sense. He was being inoculated against the fear of death itself.
"Ten minutes," Old Ghost said, standing. "Then we work on fighting multiple opponents while using proper technique. I expect you to die another twenty times before you get it right."
He walked away, leaving Lin Feng to rest and contemplate.
The training continued. Hours blurred together, marked only by the count of deaths and the slow, incremental improvements in Lin Feng's skills. Old Ghost was relentless, pushing him through scenario after scenario, each one designed to hammer home a specific lesson.
Fighting while wounded—learning to push through pain and maintain technique even when injured.
Fighting while exhausted—learning to conserve energy and choose when to press and when to defend.
Fighting in adverse terrain—learning to use the environment to his advantage.
Fighting against opponents with specific techniques—learning to recognize attack patterns and adapt.
Each lesson cost deaths. Each death bought understanding.
By the time Old Ghost called an end to the second day, Lin Feng had died one hundred and thirty-seven times total.
One hundred and thirty-seven experiences of death, each one seared into his memory. The system tracked them all, categorizing causes and lessons with clinical precision.
But Lin Feng was no longer the same person who'd walked down those stairs two days ago. Something fundamental had shifted in him. Death was no longer an abstract concept or a distant fear. It was something he'd experienced intimately, repeatedly, and survived.
"Day two complete," Old Ghost announced. "Rest or continue?"
Lin Feng didn't even hesitate. "Continue."
Old Ghost's expression might have been a smile. "Good. Four hours. Then day three begins."
The next several days followed a similar pattern. Wake, eat, train, die, resurrect, repeat. Old Ghost systematically broke down every bad habit Lin Feng had developed, replacing wild instinct with refined technique.
Day three focused on spiritual energy control—learning to enhance his strikes with precise bursts of Qi rather than just flooding his sword with power. Lin Feng learned the hard way that more energy wasn't always better. A precisely timed enhancement could cut through defenses that raw power couldn't breach.
Deaths: forty-three that day.
Day four introduced fighting against cultivators who used techniques beyond simple weapon skills. Old Ghost summoned constructs that could throw fire, create illusions, manipulate earth. Lin Feng learned to disrupt techniques mid-formation, to recognize the telltale signs of Qi gathering that preceded an attack.
Deaths: fifty-seven that day.
Day five was environmental hazards. The wasteland transformed into different terrains—a frozen lake where footing was treacherous, a forest where trees could be used for cover or become obstacles, a rocky cliff face where one misstep meant a lethal fall. Lin Feng learned to adapt his fighting style to any environment.
Deaths: thirty-one that day (the fall damage was consistent).
By day six, Lin Feng had died two hundred and sixty-eight times.
He'd stopped counting sometime around death one hundred and fifty. The specific number didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the lessons, the incremental improvements, the growing confidence in his abilities.
Old Ghost noticed the change. "You're not flinching before the strikes anymore," he observed during a rest period on day six. "Most students never reach that point. They always tense up, anticipating the pain. But you've accepted it."
"Is that good?" Lin Feng asked, too tired to filter the question.
"It's necessary," Old Ghost replied. "A cultivator who fears pain is a cultivator who holds back. You've learned not to hold back." He paused. "But don't mistake acceptance for recklessness. The goal isn't to throw your life away. It's to fight without the paralysis of fear."
That night—or what passed for night in the timeless wasteland—Lin Feng entered the Spirit Gathering Pagoda to cultivate. He'd been neglecting his spiritual cultivation in favor of combat training, but the Fortress Foundation Scripture required both.
As he cycled his Qi, Lin Feng noticed something different. The spiritual energy flowed more smoothly than before, finding pathways through his meridians with less resistance. The constant death and resurrection had refined his spiritual foundation in unexpected ways—each death purging impurities, each resurrection rebuilding his spiritual body slightly stronger.
[Cultivation Progress: 78% to Qi Refining 4th Layer]
He was close to a breakthrough. The progress surprised him—he'd expected the grueling combat training to slow his cultivation advancement. Instead, it seemed to accelerate it.
The Fortress Foundation Scripture's words echoed in his mind: "The fortress builder grows strong not through isolated meditation, but through the challenges of maintaining and expanding their domain. Each battle fought strengthens the foundation. Each death survived tempers the spirit."
Perhaps this brutal training was exactly what the technique needed.
Yue cultivated beside him, absorbing ambient spiritual energy to restore her form. She'd grown stronger too, Lin Feng realized. Their bond had deepened through shared combat, and with it, her power had increased.
[Yue Status: Qi Refining 3rd Layer equivalent][Growth accelerated through combat experience and bond strengthening][New Ability Unlocked: Spirit Step - Short-range teleportation]
Lin Feng opened his eyes and looked at his companion. "You learned to teleport?"
Yue's tail wagged. Yes. Short distance. Very fast. Good for surprising enemies.
She demonstrated, vanishing from his side and reappearing ten feet away in a blink of silver light.
"That's incredible," Lin Feng said, genuinely impressed. "That'll make our coordination even better."
We grow stronger, Yue's thought was proud. Pack becomes formidable.
They rested for the allotted four hours, then returned to training.
Day seven through ten blurred together in a haze of combat, death, and resurrection. Old Ghost introduced increasingly complex scenarios:
Fighting while protecting an objective. Fighting while pursuing a fleeing enemy. Fighting against enemies who specifically countered his techniques. Fighting in complete darkness using only spiritual sense.
Lin Feng died another one hundred and ninety-three times across those four days.
But with each death came understanding. His sword forms became second nature. His spiritual sense grew sharp enough to detect opponents through walls. His coordination with Yue reached the point where they could execute complex tactics without verbal communication, relying entirely on their bond.
By day eleven, Lin Feng could fight three Foundation Establishment First Layer constructs simultaneously and hold his own for several minutes. He couldn't win—the cultivation gap was still too large—but he could survive, evade, and exploit openings when they appeared.
"Good," Old Ghost said after one such bout. "You're ready for advanced scenarios."
Day eleven and twelve were nightmare fuel.
Old Ghost created situations with no good answers—forced Lin Feng to choose between bad options and live with the consequences. Scenarios where saving Yue meant leaving himself exposed. Scenarios where pursuing an enemy meant walking into a trap. Scenarios where the only way to win was to accept terrible wounds and keep fighting through them.
Lin Feng died eighty-four times over those two days, many of those deaths coming from his own poor tactical decisions rather than lack of skill.
"Combat isn't just technique," Old Ghost explained after a particularly brutal sequence where Lin Feng had tried to save a hypothetical ally and gotten both himself and the ally killed. "It's judgment. When to fight, when to flee, when to sacrifice a piece to win the game. You're learning that the hard way."
The lessons were harsh but valuable. Lin Feng learned to make cold calculations in the heat of battle—to assess win conditions and accept losses when necessary.
It was a side of cultivation he hadn't considered before. The stories in books made it seem heroic, noble. But real combat was brutal calculus, trading lives and opportunities in pursuit of victory.
On the morning of day thirteen, Old Ghost's expression was different. Less clinical, more evaluative.
"Today begins your final assessment," he announced. "Two days to prove you've learned everything I've taught. The scenarios will combine every lesson from the past twelve days. You'll face multiple opponents with varying techniques in adverse terrain while protecting objectives and making tactical decisions."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Most students fail the final assessment. They've learned individual skills but can't integrate them under pressure. If you fail, you can try again, but each failure will cost you an additional hundred spirit stones and another week of training."
Old Ghost's black eyes bored into Lin Feng. "Or you can quit now, take what you've learned, and consider your five hundred spirit stones a partial investment. No shame in that. You've learned enough to survive longer than you would have without training."
Lin Feng thought about it for exactly three seconds.
"I'll pass the assessment," he said.
Old Ghost's scarred face split in what might have been a genuine smile. "Arrogant. I like it. Let's see if you can back it up."
The wasteland transformed.
The terrain became a nightmare of varied environments—frozen zones next to burning zones, stable ground adjacent to collapsing sections, areas of dense mist reducing visibility next to wide-open killing fields.
Five opponents materialized. Lin Feng's spiritual sense immediately assessed them:
Two sword-wielders at Qi Refining Fourth Layer. One spear-user at Qi Refining Fifth Layer. One technique specialist who could manipulate earth at Qi Refining Fourth Layer. One archer at Qi Refining Third Layer but positioned at extreme range.
And in the center of the chaos, a glowing crystal that Old Ghost designated as the objective to protect.
"Survive for thirty minutes while keeping the objective intact," Old Ghost said. "Your wolf can fight freely. Use everything you've learned. Begin."
The enemies attacked simultaneously from multiple directions.
Lin Feng's mind went cold and calm—the state he'd learned to enter after hundreds of deaths. His spiritual sense expanded, tracking all five opponents even as his eyes focused on the immediate threats.
The two sword-wielders came first, coordinating their strikes to pin him between them. Lin Feng used Form Two to redirect one blade, simultaneously stepping into the attack and using the attacker's body as a shield against the second sword-wielder.
His counter—Form Five—took the first attacker in the throat. One down.
Spear, left side, Yue's warning came through their bond.
Lin Feng didn't look. He trusted Yue's senses. He executed Form Seven—a backhand slash that seemed to leave him exposed but actually created perfect positioning for—
Yue materialized next to the spear-wielder using her new Spirit Step ability. Her jaws clamped on its weapon arm, disrupting the thrust that would have taken Lin Feng in the kidney.
The earth cultivator was gathering Qi, preparing a technique. Lin Feng recognized the signs from day four's training—stone spikes would erupt from the ground in approximately three seconds.
He couldn't reach the cultivator in time. But Yue could.
Go, he commanded through the bond.
Yue released the spear-wielder and teleported directly to the earth cultivator, interrupting the technique mid-formation. The backlash of disrupted Qi stunned the construct for a precious moment.
Lin Feng used that moment to kill the remaining sword-wielder with a precise thrust through the eye—the one vulnerable point in its construct body.
An arrow whispered through the air. Lin Feng's spiritual sense screamed warning. He twisted, the arrow missing his heart but scoring his shoulder. Pain flared, but he'd trained to fight through worse.
The spear-wielder pressed forward, trying to capitalize on the injury. But Lin Feng had learned not to give ground unnecessarily. He engaged directly, sword meeting spear in a rapid exchange. Form Three into Form Six, using his rotation to add power to the strike. The spear's shaft splintered, and Lin Feng's follow-up took the wielder's head.
Three down. Two to go. Fifteen minutes elapsed.
The earth cultivator had recovered and was retreating while preparing another technique. The archer continued raining arrows from extreme range, forcing Lin Feng to stay mobile.
Yue harassed the earth cultivator, but her attacks couldn't penetrate its stone armor technique.
Lin Feng made a tactical decision. He couldn't leave the objective unprotected to chase the archer, and he couldn't kill the earth cultivator before it completed its technique.
But he could disrupt it.
Lin Feng gathered his spiritual energy and infused it into his sword—not the random flooding he'd done before, but a precise, controlled enhancement. He threw the sword like a spear.
The blade flew true, empowered by his Qi. It punched through the earth cultivator's stone armor and buried itself in the construct's chest. The technique disrupted catastrophically, and the construct dissolved.
Four down.
But now Lin Feng was unarmed, and the archer had a clear shot.
The arrow came. Lin Feng's spiritual sense tracked it, but without a weapon to deflect it, he could only dodge. He threw himself aside, the arrow missing by inches.
Another arrow. Another desperate dodge.
The archer was too far away. Lin Feng couldn't reach it in time, and Yue's Spirit Step had a limited range.
Unless...
Yue, Lin Feng projected through their bond, can you teleport twice in quick succession?
Yes, came the immediate reply. Tiring, but possible.
Go. Kill the archer. I'll protect the objective.
Yue vanished in a flash of silver light. Reappeared halfway to the archer. Vanished again. Appeared directly beside the distant construct.
The archer tried to shift aim, but Yue was too close. Her jaws closed on its throat, and the final enemy fell.
[Training Scenario Complete: Final Assessment Day One][Time Survived: 23 minutes, 47 seconds][Objective Status: Intact][Deaths: 0][Assessment: Excellent. Student demonstrated tactical thinking, proper technique integration, and effective use of bonded unit.]
Lin Feng retrieved his sword and walked back to where Old Ghost stood observing.
"Not bad," the old man said. "You made the right call throwing your weapon—most students refuse to disarm themselves under any circumstances. And using your wolf's mobility to eliminate the threat you couldn't personally reach showed good tactical sense."
He produced water, and Lin Feng drank gratefully.
"Tomorrow is the real test," Old Ghost continued. "Today's scenario was difficult but manageable. Tomorrow, I'm going to make it nearly impossible. You'll need everything you've learned, every trick, every tactic, and probably a bit of luck."
Lin Feng's shoulder still ached where the arrow had grazed it, but he nodded. "I'll be ready."
"We'll see."
They rested. Four hours of sleep that felt like four minutes. Then day fourteen—the final day—began.
Old Ghost's expression was grave as he explained the scenario.
"Ten opponents," he said. "Ranging from Qi Refining Third Layer to Foundation Establishment Second Layer. Varied techniques. Adverse terrain that actively tries to kill you—collapsing ground, environmental hazards, random spiritual energy fluctuations. Three objectives to protect simultaneously. And you must survive for one full hour."
He let that sink in.
"This scenario is designed to be failed," Old Ghost continued. "Most students die in the first five minutes. The best I've seen lasted thirty-seven minutes before being overwhelmed. If you can survive twenty minutes while keeping at least one objective intact, I'll consider you graduated."
Lin Feng looked at the transformed wasteland. It had become a true hellscape—zones of fire and ice, ground that shifted unpredictably, and worst of all, ten constructs spread across the terrain, each one a lethal threat.
"One hour," Lin Feng said quietly. "I'll make it the full hour."
Old Ghost's scarred face showed something like respect. "Arrogant to the end. I like that. Begin."
The final battle began.
And Lin Feng discovered that surviving four hundred and sixty-one deaths had taught him something invaluable:
He'd learned not just how to fight.
He'd learned how to refuse to give up.
No matter what.