LOST CULTIVATION METHODS

The wind shrieked across the jagged edges of Soulfire Cliff as if the mountain itself resisted Jin's presence.

The Blood Moon had waned, but its residue remained thick in the air, staining the skies with lingering crimson.

The earth itself pulsed with a pressure that threatened to collapse the unworthy.

Jin sat cross-legged at the summit, battered, bloodstained, and silent.

Two weeks had passed.

Two weeks of torment.

Two weeks of clawing his way through illusions, soul echoes, and spirit beasts.

Two weeks of battle.

Each day had brought a new horror:

The first night, a beast of qi-forged stone erupted from the cliffside—a golem with runes etched into its spine, immune to elemental attacks. Jin was forced to rely on raw physical strength and precise counters, breaking it apart over hours, each strike vibrating his bones.

The third day, shadow wraiths descended—dozens of them—screaming with the voices of long-dead soldiers.

They clung to his aura, trying to leech his will. His Blood Devour Sutra surged unexpectedly, consuming them in a tide of crimson light. For the first time, he absorbed spiritual essence, not physical.

By the eighth day, even time warped. Jin relived moments from his past—his father's rejection, the humiliation before nobles, his first kill. The visions mocked him, whispered doubts in familiar voices.

"You're not strong enough."

"You command the dead because no living soul would follow you."

"She doesn't love you. Not really."

He battled not just monsters, but himself.

A ten-winged spirit eagle drove him to the brink of collapse on the tenth day, its screech shattering the rock beneath his feet. It took a precise mix of wind and blood qi to trap it in a vortex and shatter its form.

The final trial, on the thirteenth day, came not from without but within. Jin found himself standing in the ruins of Valeria, surrounded by the corpses of his loved ones.

Lana's lifeless body lay beside Arielle's. The undead surrounded him—not as soldiers, but as accusers.

You became what they feared.

He stood silently, and then, with trembling hands, set fire to the illusion himself.

If this is the cost of losing my humanity—then I will walk another path.

The illusions broke. His soul steadied.

He trained.

He sharpened.

His Tyrant Body tempered under the harshest trial yet. His elemental affinity, especially wind and fire, danced at his fingertips with increasing fluidity. The Soul Echo allowed him to listen to the world—not control it.

And now, finally, he stood.

His robe hung in tatters, blood caked across his chest. But his eyes were clear. His breathing calm. His will, unshaken.

He turned from the cliff and descended the mountainside.

A Warm Return

The gates of Valeria opened for him alone. Undead bowed as he passed.

The city was quieter than usual. Faint torches lit the outer streets. Patrols, both living and dead, circled the inner districts. Whispers echoed of Jin's return even before he reached the manor.

When he entered the old estate—what remained of Valeria's noble manor—his footsteps echoed on polished stone. The interior had been repaired since he left. Clean linen sheets. A basin steaming with hot water. Lanterns glowed warmly.

He stepped into the bath and let out a long, silent breath.

Warm water soothed his ruined muscles. He dipped his head beneath the surface, letting tension melt away. For a moment, he allowed himself peace.

Then—a knock.

He didn't answer.

The door slid open anyway.

Arielle stepped inside, her hair tied loosely over one shoulder, wearing a sheer nightgown and holding a tray with tea and salve.

She stopped when she saw him and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you back so late."

He blinked water from his eyes. "Didn't expect you barging in."

She gave a tired smile and set the tray down. "You've been gone two weeks. We were starting to wonder if the cliff swallowed you whole."

Jin leaned back in the tub, sighing. "It almost did."

She sat beside the bath, the lamplight casting soft shadows across her face. "You push yourself too hard."

"I have to," he murmured. "I can't fall behind. Not now. Not when others rely on me."

Her eyes softened. "You're allowed to rest. You're human."

He looked at her. "Am I? After everything I've become?"

Arielle reached forward and touched his cheek, her fingers warm. "Yes. That's why I'm here."

There was silence between them.

Then he turned slightly, half-joking. "Rub my back?"

She snorted. "After a two-week ghost trial? I should charge you."

But she reached into the water anyway. Her fingers pressed gently against the knots in his shoulders.

"I missed this," he admitted quietly.

"So did I."

Then—a pause. Her hand stilled.

The water rippled.

Arielle stood slowly, biting her lip. Her eyes met his, searching. Then, without a word, she stepped out of her gown and slid into the water beside him.

No words.

No promises.

Only closeness.

He reached for her hand. She let him. His fingers traced the length of her arm, then her shoulder. Her skin was warm, her breath soft against his neck.

His other hand moved gently along her back, exploring, reverent. She leaned into him, eyes fluttering closed, allowing it.

There was no rush. No frenzy.

Just the slow, deliberate connection of two people who had endured battle, grief, and longing—and finally found comfort in each other.

Meanwhile…

Elsewhere in Valeria, Lana stood atop the inner wall, watching Lady Veyra drill a small squad of undead near the ruined eastern yard. Their movements were jerky at first, but under Veyra's calm, repetitive instruction, something changed.

They began to respond.

To form ranks.

To fight as one.

Arielle walked beside her earlier that day, arms folded, eyes narrowed in thought. "That's the third unit showing signs of combat learning."

"It's spreading," Lana said. "Whatever Jin awakened in Veyra is... contagious."

"Not just contagious," Arielle added. "Instructive. I've seen her stop units mid-drill and correct them. Like she remembers being a commander."

"She was," Lana said quietly. "And now she is again."

Arielle glanced toward the northern courtyard. "And the humans?"

"We've got around thirty now. Loyal to Jin. Most of them are cultivators, some are skilled craftsmen. A few former soldiers."

She gestured toward a group observing the undead movements.

"They're organizing themselves. Watching how the undead move. I think they're starting to trust them."

"That could be dangerous."

"Or the beginning of something powerful," Lana replied. "Jin said he didn't want a kingdom. But he's creating one anyway."

Toward Tomorrow

When Jin returned to the main hall after his bath, he found both women waiting.

Lana stood by the hearth, her arms crossed but a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"We heard the bath splashing," she teased lightly. "Glad you're back."

Arielle, dressed again and seated beside the fire, met his eyes. "We kept things together. But Valeria still needs you."

Jin looked at them both. His gaze softened, then hardened.

"I'm back. And now?"

He turned to the courtyard, where Lady Veyra waited, kneeling.

"We begin with the dead."