Cage of the Puppeteer | COTE x Xianxia

The past week had not been solely devoted to following the routine of working in the Alchemy Department and cultivating in the evenings. Beyond those tasks, I spent my time observing my fellow outer sect disciples. Each day offered a glimpse into the habits, connections, and dynamics within the sect—a wealth of information for someone willing to look closely.
In the mornings, most disciples followed a predictable pattern. Many began their day with a simple meal before retreating to their living quarters to cultivate in isolation, focused on their personal advancement. Others took on basic missions to earn Spirit Stones—tasks like cleaning the streets, repairing minor damages to the sect's facilities, or fetching mundane supplies. These missions were tedious and paid just enough to scrape by, ensuring these disciples could meet their daily needs but offering little room for ambition.
A smaller group, like myself, were aligned with factions. These disciples enjoyed slightly better prospects, their affiliation providing access to resources and opportunities that most others lacked. Their work often involved specialized tasks or training, setting them apart from those toiling away at menial jobs.
But it was what I observed beyond the surface routines that intrigued me the most. While keeping an inconspicuous profile, I noticed transactions happening between certain inner and outer sect disciples. These inner sect disciples, with their superior resources and skills, sold pills and salves to the outer disciples.
The items they sold were of noticeably lower quality—pills with higher impurity levels and salves that lacked potency compared to properly refined ones. Yet they were still in high demand. Outer sect disciples, desperate for anything that could enhance their cultivation or ease their struggles, readily purchased these items despite their flaws.
This, I realized, was an opportunity.
The outer disciples lacked the means to produce such items themselves, and the market was underserved. Those inner disciples who dominated it relied on their status and connections, offering products that barely met expectations. But what if someone could offer better-quality items at comparable prices—or even slightly lower ones? The potential for profit was staggering.
I had already started acquiring the ingredients for basic salves and pills, investing most of my Spirit Stones into the venture. With my growing expertise in alchemy and familiarity with medicinal preparation, I was confident I could produce items that outperformed what was currently being sold. This wasn't just a chance to make money—it was the foundation of a strategy to establish a foothold within the sect's informal economy.
Sitting in the refinement room, I organized the ingredients I had purchased earlier, my thoughts racing as I formulated the next steps. These transactions aren't just about products; they're about trust and consistency. If I can build a reputation for quality and reliability, the outer disciples will come to me. And if they come to me, I can start building the resources I need to fuel my cultivation and further ambitions.
The challenge, of course, would be avoiding unwanted attention. The inner sect disciples currently dominating this trade wouldn't take kindly to competition. And while my skills in alchemy gave me an edge, I would need to tread carefully to avoid provoking animosity from those who held more power.
I leaned back slightly, letting the cool evening air wash over me as I finalized my plan. First, I need to start small. A few salves, maybe a batch of low-grade Qi Replenishing Pills. I'll focus on consistency and let the results speak for themselves. From there, I'll expand slowly, adjusting to the demand and the dynamics at play.
The opportunity was there, and I was ready to seize it.
In the dim light of the refinement room, the scent of herbs and extracts mingled in the air as I worked with meticulous precision. Before me, rows of ingredients were arranged neatly on the preparation table—leaves, roots, powders, and oils, each carefully selected for their unique properties. 
The art of creating salves was fundamentally different from alchemy. Alchemy demanded the manipulation of Qi, perfect control of temperatures, and an intricate understanding of how ingredients interacted under extreme conditions. Salve-making, by contrast, was a more grounded, tactile craft. It was closer to cooking, though the goal was not flavor but utility.
With my medicinal knowledge from Earth, I found myself at an advantage. The ingredients here were foreign, their names and appearances unfamiliar, yet they shared striking similarities with those I had studied before. The structure of leaves, the scent of roots, the texture of barks—each offered clues about their functions. Some herbs soothed pain, others reduced inflammation, and a few had regenerative properties akin to the antibiotics and antiseptics I had once known.
There were exceptions, of course. Some plants that looked familiar had entirely different effects, and I approached those with caution. Yet many others shared functions or even expanded on what I understood. This overlap allowed me to create salves that went beyond the comprehension of most disciples in the sect, even those in the inner ranks.
I began with the basics. A wound-healing salve made from Shadowmint Leaf and Duskridge Moss, enhanced with a faint infusion of Qi, produced a cooling sensation that accelerated tissue regeneration. A pain-relief balm, crafted with the extract of Phantomroot and a few drops of Ebonthorn Berry juice, numbed localized pain while promoting blood flow.
The applications were endless. Some salves were practical, aimed at alleviating the everyday struggles of outer disciples—soothing sore muscles, reducing swelling, or repelling insects during field missions. Others, like beauty products for female disciples, tapped into an entirely different market. A mixture of Moonshade Fern essence and Silverdew Petals created a cream that brightened skin and reduced blemishes, a product that could quickly gain attention when discreetly shared with a few disciples.
The process was straightforward compared to alchemy. Here, I needed no furnace or intricate Qi manipulation—just an understanding of the ingredients and the effects of their combinations. It was akin to an art form, where the blending of textures, scents, and properties created something useful and, at times, extraordinary.
Even so, I wasn't content to stick to the basics. For each salve I crafted, I sought ways to improve upon the foundation. Using higher-quality ingredients, refining preparation techniques, and experimenting with combinations allowed me to create superior products. Where a standard salve might offer mild relief, mine provided noticeable results, a distinction that would not go unnoticed for long.
This practice wasn't just about profit, though that was a motivating factor. Salve-making was a stepping stone—a means to deepen my understanding of medicinal properties and refine my craftsmanship. The Dao of Medicine and the Dao of Alchemy weren't identical, but they were closely intertwined. Mastery of one wouldn't guarantee expertise in the other, but it provided a foundation that made advancement easier.
Of course, the art of salve-making was just one part of the Dao of Medicine, but still, it would help me improve my craft. Working with different ingredients, testing their effectiveness and using them to the fullest was something that would hugely benefit me in my Alchemy skills.
After hours of work, I leaned back and surveyed the table. Neatly arranged jars and containers held an array of salves, each labeled for its purpose:
Shadow Mend Salve for wounds.
Ember Warmth Balm for sore muscles.
Spirit Soothing Cream to calm Qi imbalances.
Veilglow Salve for enhanced night vision.
Moon Petal Cream, a beauty product certain to attract attention.
The room smelled of herbs and oils, a quiet testament to the work I had accomplished.
I carefully packed the salves into a storage bag, securing them for transport. The next step was distribution—quietly introducing them to the outer disciples who needed them most. With their superior quality and fair pricing, I was confident they would attract attention and demand. However, one critical detail remained: I needed a distributor.
Selling these items directly would draw too much attention to me, something I wanted to avoid. If my growing influence in this small but lucrative market caught the wrong eyes, particularly those of the inner disciples who dominated this trade, it could lead to unnecessary conflict. What I required was someone to act as the face of the operation, shielding me from scrutiny while allowing the salves to circulate freely.
For now, I set those thoughts aside. I had another task to complete. With the storage bag slung over my shoulder, I left the refinement room and made my way to the reception hall of the Alchemy Department.
The familiar space was quieter now, the hum of activity from earlier in the day having subsided. Behind the desk, Bai Yun was seated, her head bent slightly as she studied a journal with an air of focused concentration. The faint glow of the nearby lamp cast a warm light on her features, softening her expression.
As I approached, she glanced up, her expression shifting to one of recognition and mild curiosity.
"Ayanokoji," she greeted with a faint smile. "Back so soon?"
I returned the gesture with a polite nod and placed the small pouch containing the two refined batches of pills on the desk. "I've completed the Shadow Qi Recovery Pills mission. Here are the results."
She opened the pouch and examined the pills briefly; her practiced eye scanning for consistency and quality. "Not bad," she said after a moment, her tone carrying a hint of approval. "Consistent size and structure, and the glow indicates proper stability. Looks like you've met the standards."
Reaching for the ledger beside her, she noted the completion of the mission and handed me a small slip of parchment. "Take this to the mission rewards office tomorrow. You'll receive your payment there—30 Spirit Stones, as per the mission terms."
"Thank you, Senior Sister," I replied, bowing slightly.
Bai Yun's eyes lingered on me for a moment, her smile faint but genuine. "You're making a good impression, Ayanokoji. Keep this up, and you might rise through the department faster than you expect."
"I'll do my best," I said simply before stepping back and turning toward the exit.
...
By the time I left the Alchemy Department, the Monastery was plunged into darkness. The walk back to my living quarters was uneventful at first, the quiet stillness of the sect's paths broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cultivation techniques emanating from various quarters. The dim lanterns cast long shadows, creating an interplay of light and dark along the stone pathways.
As I approached my living quarters, however, I noticed a figure standing in the shadows near the entrance. It was a skinny outer sect disciple, his posture stiff and watchful. He looked to be about 16 years old, the same age as someone in their second year of high school. His features were sharp but unremarkable, and his narrow shoulders suggested he lacked the imposing build of most physical fighters.
Despite his unassuming appearance, there was a familiar air about him—a memory from the past. He reminded me of Sudo during his early days: unrefined and insecure, yet aggressive in his attempts to assert dominance. 
His eyes flicked toward me as I approached, narrowing slightly before focusing on the insignia pinned to my robes. The faint glow of the black flame insignia seemed to ignite something within him. Greed flashed across his face, his lips curling into a smirk as he stepped forward to block my path.
"Hey there," he said, his tone dripping with false camaraderie. "You must be one of the new recruits. I've been meaning to have a chat with you."
I stopped a few steps away, my gaze meeting his evenly. He was taller than me and carried himself with a confidence that suggested he wasn't new to confrontation. His Qi aura flared slightly, stronger than mine, but his movements lacked the fluid precision of a disciplined fighter.
"I'm Shen Rong," he continued, a sly grin spreading across his face. "And in case you didn't know, I take care of this part of the outer sect. You see, new disciples like you need a bit of... protection. For a small fee, of course."
"Protection money?" I asked calmly, my tone flat.
The difference between him and Sudo was that, unlike him, Sudo wasn't openly mugging people.
He chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "Smart. That's right. It's a simple arrangement. You hand over 150 Spirit Stones, and I make sure no one messes with you. Refuse..." His grin widened, teeth glinting in the lantern light. "And I'll have to teach you why that's a bad idea."
Perfect.
Without a word, I moved past him, deliberately ignoring his threat as though he wasn't worth acknowledging. His expression darkened instantly, his amusement giving way to anger.
"Hey!" Shen Rong barked, his voice rising. "Don't think you can just walk away!"
His frustration boiled over, and he lunged forward, throwing a wild punch aimed at the side of my head. I had been waiting for this—the opening I needed.
I pivoted smoothly, the punch missing me by a hair's breadth as I stepped out of its trajectory. The force of his strike caused him to overextend slightly, leaving him open.
Shen Rong's Qi flared, and I felt the weight of his aura pressing against me. He was strong; his cultivation was clearly more advanced than mine, but his movements were unrefined. His reliance on Qi to amplify his strength left him predictable.
With my full strength, I delivered a sharp, calculated punch to his solar plexus, aiming to disrupt his breathing and stagger him. My fist connected solidly, and though his strong body and Qi absorption mitigated the damage, his step faltered, and he instinctively drew back, momentarily disoriented.
I didn't waste the opportunity. Closing the distance in a single step, I switched tactics, transforming my fists into a bladed form—pointer and middle fingers pressed together like a knife. Using both hands, I struck a series of precise points along his body.
The first strikes targeted Qi nodes, disrupting the flow of his energy and causing an imbalance in his internal circulation. His Qi, though still present, faltered and became sluggish, weakening his ability to reinforce his body.
His eyes widened as he staggered again, his arms flailing in an attempt to regain control.
"W-what...?" he stammered, his voice shaky as he felt the disruption in his Qi.
I wasn't finished. Moving with deliberate speed, I struck at key nerve clusters, my fingers pressing into pressure points along his chest, arms, and neck. Each strike was executed with precision, designed to bypass his Qi defenses and directly affect his nervous system.
Shen Rong gasped, his body convulsing slightly as the strikes took effect. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching as if paralyzed. His breath came in ragged bursts, his Qi now completely uncoordinated, and his muscles refusing to respond.
Kneeling beside him, I observed his state with a calm detachment. He wasn't permanently harmed—these strikes would incapacitate him for a few minutes at most—but he was effectively neutralized.
"You should choose your targets more carefully," I said quietly, my tone devoid of emotion. "Not everyone is as weak as they appear."
Shen Rong's lips moved faintly, but no sound came. His body, wracked by the disruption of his Qi and the strikes to his nerve clusters, refused to obey his commands. Panic flickered in his eyes; his earlier bravado shattered.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, grasping him firmly by the throat. Despite his larger frame and clear age advantage, I lifted his body off the ground with ease, the result of my rigorous physical training.
Shen Rong's eyes widened in shock as his feet dangled, barely grazing the ground. He struggled instinctively, but his body, still reeling from the earlier strikes, was too uncoordinated to mount any real resistance.
I tightened my grip, not enough to damage the delicate structures of the neck, but sufficient to cut off his airflow and induce a sense of helplessness. His hands twitched and clawed weakly at my arm, but it was futile.
Leaning closer, I stared directly into his eyes. My gaze was cold and unrelenting, devoid of any emotion, like the void itself. Shen Rong's pupils dilated briefly before shrinking into pinpoints, his body trembling under the weight of my stare.
Fear.
That primal emotion overtook him completely as he realized the disparity between us wasn't merely physical or even based on cultivation. It was the absolute certainty that I was operating on a level of control and calculation he couldn't comprehend.
"Do you understand your position?" I asked, my voice low and calm, yet carrying a weight that pressed down on him more than my grip ever could.
Shen Rong's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His face began to redden, his eyes bloodshot as oxygen drained from his body. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded—an attempt to convey submission even as his consciousness began to blur.
The weak gesture wasn't enough to satisfy me. I tightened my grip slightly, ensuring the pressure was maintained without causing permanent harm. His lips turned a faint shade of blue, and his trembling grew more pronounced. I could feel his pulse racing beneath my fingers, a frantic rhythm driven by fear and the body's desperate need for air.
"You're nothing," I said, my voice dropping even lower, a faint whisper that cut through the suffocating silence. "Nothing but a foolish opportunist who thought he could prey on the weak. But this is what happens when you misjudge someone. Remember this."
Shen Rong's eyes rolled slightly as his head lolled, his body too starved of oxygen to resist or even process the full extent of what was happening. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, his earlier bravado now reduced to pitiful vulnerability.
Deciding it was enough, I released him. I exerted just enough force to throw him backward, ensuring he landed roughly on the ground but without letting his head strike the hard stone beneath. His body hit the dirt with a dull thud, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his hands clawing weakly at his throat.
For a moment, the only sound was his ragged breathing. His face was flushed deep red, and his bloodshot eyes brimmed with terror.
Shen Rong said nothing, his voice lost in the tremors of his body. He simply lay there, his wide eyes fixed on me, paralyzed by a fear that would linger far longer than the physical pain I had inflicted.
A dark stain spread across his pants, his body betraying the utter loss of control he felt. The acrid smell of urine reached me, but I remained impassive, my expression cold and unreadable. I stood over him, my shadow looming over his prone form as I spoke, my voice calm and measured.
"Shen Rong, that's your name, isn't it?"
His head jerked slightly, and he nodded frantically, his wide eyes filled with panic.
"Good," I continued, letting a pause hang in the air, the silence pressing down like a weight. "Shen Rong, from this moment forward, you will follow my instructions. Do you understand?"
He nodded again, his movements shaky but desperate to show compliance.
I allowed my tone to soften, though not by much. "Don't worry. This isn't without reward. You'll gain benefits—far more than your pitiful attempt to extort protection money could ever offer you. But your loyalty must be absolute. Understood?"
Another nod, this one slower as the meaning of my words began to sink in.
As I looked down at him, I considered the psychological mechanics at play. Fear, when properly instilled, is a powerful motivator. It bypasses logic and reason, embedding itself deep in the primal part of the brain. At its peak, fear paralyzes, as it had done to Shen Rong just moments ago. But fear alone, if left unchecked, can fester into resentment or rebellion.
The key is control. Fear must be paired with a path to escape it, a way to turn that terror into purpose. By offering Shen Rong an alternative—benefits and purpose in exchange for loyalty—I could ensure that the fear I had instilled didn't mutate into something counterproductive. Instead, it would become a foundation for loyalty.
Over time, he wouldn't simply obey out of fear; he would begin to rationalize his submission, convincing himself it was the right choice. The human mind, when faced with inescapable dominance, has a way of rewriting the narrative. He would start to believe that he had brought this situation upon himself and that my intervention was not just inevitable but necessary.
Eventually, fear would give way to reverence. Reverence, still tinged with respect and caution, but not the overwhelming terror of this moment. That reverence, if properly maintained, would keep him loyal far longer than fear ever could.
The process wouldn't happen overnight, but I had no intention of rushing it. For now, all I needed was compliance.
I crouched slightly, lowering myself to meet Shen Rong's eye level. He flinched, his body tensing as if expecting another blow, but I remained still, my voice calm but firm.
"Let me explain something to you," I said, my words deliberate. "The position you're in now is a result of your choices. You made the mistake of targeting the wrong person. But that mistake doesn't have to define you. I'm giving you an opportunity—a way to rise above the pathetic existence you've carved out for yourself."
His breathing hitched, but he didn't look away. The fear in his eyes was still there, but now a flicker of something else began to emerge—desperation, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of hope.
"You'll do as I say," I continued, "and in return, you'll gain more than you could have dreamed. Power, wealth, status—things that protection money could never bring you. But if you ever betray me..."
I let the threat linger unspoken, my gaze piercing into his. He swallowed hard, his throat working against the invisible grip of my earlier actions.
"Do we have an understanding?" I asked.
"Y-yes," he rasped, his voice barely audible.
"Good." I straightened, towering over Shen Rong as he lay crumpled on the ground. His face, still pale and streaked with the remnants of fear, turned upward, his bloodshot eyes locked onto mine.
"I have the first instruction for you," I said, my voice calm but unyielding.
Reaching to the side, I opened the storage bag slung over my shoulder and began pulling out the jars of salves I had prepared earlier. Each jar, carefully labeled and sealed, reflected hours of meticulous work. I held them up one by one, my movements deliberate, as Shen Rong watched with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.
"These are different types of salves," I began, my tone steady as I set the jars in a row before him. "Each serves a specific purpose, and their effectiveness far surpasses the common products currently circulating among the outer disciples."
Pointing to the first jar, I continued, "This is a Shadow Mend Salve, ideal for healing minor wounds and abrasions. A small amount applied directly to the affected area accelerates recovery and prevents infection."
I picked up another jar and gestured toward it. "This is a Spirit Soothing Balm, designed to stabilize Qi pathways and alleviate disruptions caused by overexertion during cultivation. Use it sparingly on the chest or temples."
One by one, I explained the contents of each jar, detailing their uses and benefits. From the Ember Warmth Salve, which soothes sore muscles, to the Veilglow Salve which enhances night vision, each product was presented with precision. Finally, I placed the Moon Petal Cream in front of him.
"This one," I said, tapping the jar lightly, "is a beauty salve. It brightens the skin and reduces blemishes, something the female disciples will undoubtedly find appealing."
Shen Rong nodded mutely, his gaze darting between the jars as I spoke.
"You will divide these salves into portions of 15 grams each," I instructed, my tone sharp enough to convey the gravity of the task. "Distribute them among the outer sect disciples. Use your connections—those you've relied on for your extortion schemes. How you handle the logistics, I don't care, but ensure that neither you nor I are connected to this in any way. The fewer questions asked, the better."
I crouched slightly, meeting his gaze directly, my tone lowering to a cold edge. "Sell them for slightly less than what the disciples are currently paying for inferior products. That will ensure quick sales and growing demand. Do you understand?"
Shen Rong swallowed hard and nodded quickly, his earlier defiance entirely replaced by compliance. "Y-yes," he stammered, his voice hoarse.
I leaned closer, my dark, emotionless gaze boring into his. "Good. If you do this well, there will be rewards—benefits that will far outweigh anything you've managed to scrape together so far."
I let the faint promise of reward hang in the air for a moment before continuing, my voice hardening. "But if you fail... If you mishandle this or draw unwanted attention..." I let the unspoken threat linger, the memory of his earlier defeat serving as a stark reminder of the consequences.
Shen Rong nodded even more frantically, his body trembling as he absorbed my words. "I-I won't fail. I'll do exactly as you say!"
Satisfied, I straightened again, my posture once more imposing as I loomed over him. "Good," I said, my tone returning to calm authority. "Now, go clean yourself up."
He flushed with a mix of shame and fear, quickly scrambling to his feet despite the lingering unsteadiness in his movements.
"You know where to find me," I added as I turned away, my tone dismissive. Without waiting for a response, I began walking toward my living quarters, leaving Shen Rong standing there, clutching the jars of salves with a mix of determination and trepidation.
It was only a short distance from where the confrontation had taken place to my quarters. The path, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, seemed untouched by the events of the night. The faint rustle of leaves and the occasional distant hum of cultivation techniques from nearby rooms created an air of calm that belied the tension that had just unfolded.
Sliding the door to my quarters open, I stepped inside and closed it behind me with a quiet thud. The stillness of the room greeted me like an old companion. The simplicity of the space—a low desk, a bed, and a single lamp—reminded me of the bare essentials I worked with.
I placed my bag down in the corner and let out a soft breath, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at my lips as I muttered, "What a quiet, uneventful night. How pleasant."
The irony wasn't lost on me, but the words carried a truth of their own. The confrontation, the arrangement with Shen Rong, and the first steps toward building a foundation of influence were all pieces of a larger puzzle.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, the faint hum of ambient shadow Qi in the air brushing against my senses. Now that the groundwork for my small business had been laid, it was time to focus on the next critical step: advancing my cultivation.
I need to break through to Qi Condensation Stage Two, I thought, my gaze settling on the faint flicker of the lamp. Cultivation was the foundation of survival in this world, and strength was the ultimate currency. The stronger I became, the less subtle I would need to be. A higher cultivation stage would grant me both the leverage to act more openly and the speed to progress further.
Leaning back slightly, I allowed my thoughts to wander to the advantages I currently held. My time in the White Room had granted me an extraordinary foundation—a mastery of observation, strategy, and control that had served me well so far. My knowledge of medicine, while rudimentary compared to the divine-like advancements in higher cultivation stages, had proven invaluable in the early stages of my journey.
But even as these advantages propelled me forward, I could feel their limits looming on the horizon. As I transitioned further from the mortal realm into the world of true cultivators, the landscape would shift. The medicine I relied on now, derived from principles and methods rooted in the mortal realm, would eventually give way to mystical and divine techniques far beyond my current understanding.
And then there were the cultivators themselves. Those at higher stages of cultivation weren't just stronger—they were survivors. Decades, perhaps centuries, of experience, trials, and challenges had forged them into beings whose wisdom and cunning would surpass anything I had encountered so far.
The children I face now—brash, impulsive, and inexperienced—are nothing compared to the adults who rule the higher realms of cultivation. The power they wield, their ability to adapt and counter, will make them far more dangerous than anyone I've encountered so far.
The realization didn't fill me with dread, but with clarity. This period, where my advantages allowed me to maneuver easily, was fleeting. If I didn't establish a strong foundation now—one that could carry me through the inevitable challenges ahead—my progress would stall.
I clenched my fists slightly, feeling the faint stirrings of Qi within me. "This is the time," I murmured to myself. "To build a foundation before my advantages disappear."
Closing my eyes, I activated the Umbral Absorption Technique, letting the shadow Qi in the air flow into my body with a steady rhythm. The energy was cool and subtle, a whisper of power that threaded through my meridians like a flowing stream. Slowly, I directed the Qi toward my dantian, where it pooled and circulated, growing denser with each cycle.
The world around me faded away as I focused entirely on the process. Every distraction, every errant thought, dissolved into the void, leaving only the sensation of Qi coursing through me. The stillness of the night amplified the hum of energy, its flow becoming more pronounced with each passing moment.
For hours, I maintained this state, refining and compressing the energy within me. The Qi in my dantian began to churn, building up like a storm ready to break free. The pressure increased steadily, and I guided it carefully, ensuring it didn't overwhelm my control. My breathing slowed, deep and deliberate, as I focused on the critical moment ahead.
Then a sudden, resounding pulse burst from my dantian.
The Qi surged outward, flooding my meridians with a force that resonated through my entire being. The sensation was overwhelming yet exhilarating—a rush of energy that felt as if my body had been set ablaze with power. My meridians expanded slightly, accommodating the new flow of Qi as it settled into a continuous rhythm.
I exhaled slowly, my breath misting faintly in the cool air. The breakthrough to Qi Condensation Stage Two was complete.
Opening my eyes, I flexed my fingers experimentally, channeling a small thread of Qi into them. The response was immediate and fluid, far faster than before. Qi now flowed through my meridians permanently, no longer requiring the deliberate activation that had been necessary at Stage One. This new state allowed me to summon and control Qi with speed and precision that felt almost instinctive.
The effects on my body were equally profound. The Qi circulating through me had strengthened my physique further, enhancing my stamina, physical endurance, and raw strength. Before, I had already surpassed what was considered exceptional strength on Earth, but now my abilities had entered a realm that no mortal could hope to achieve.
Standing, I tested my movements, feeling the fluidity and power in each step. My muscles responded effortlessly, and I could sense the heightened resilience in my body. Even my breathing felt more efficient, my lungs drawing in air with a depth that fueled both body and mind.
I concentrated briefly, gathering a small burst of Qi in my palm. With a quick motion, I released it forward, producing a faint explosion of force that rippled through the air. It wasn't particularly strong, but the potential was clear. Such bursts could serve as offensive strikes or even defensive barriers, depending on how I chose to wield them.
This is just Stage Two, I thought, the possibilities unfolding in my mind. And yet the gap between mortals and cultivators already feels insurmountable. What heights will the later stages bring?
The hum of Qi within me had quieted to a steady undercurrent, a constant reminder of the progress I had made. Satisfied, I extinguished the lamp and prepared for rest.
Sliding onto my bed, I let my body relax fully for the first time that night. My thoughts drifted briefly to the steps ahead—the salves, Shen Rong's task, and the further challenges of cultivation. But for now, I allowed myself a rare moment of peace.
The room was silent, save for the faint hum of ambient Qi in the air, and the shadows on the walls seemed to deepen as sleep claimed me.