As Jonathan finished his recuperation, his thoughts kept returning to the mysterious woman's teachings on the path of cultivation. She had given him knowledge of techniques and methods, and now he felt ready to return home, eager to prove his strength and reassure his family after the recent attack.
Stepping into the Talac Valley with renewed purpose, Jonathan sensed the eyes of villagers upon him. There was a pity in their gazes that puzzled him, a silent sorrow that he couldn't quite understand. An uneasy feeling crept over him as he picked up his pace, hurrying toward home. The sight that greeted him upon arrival made his heart drop.
Inside, he found his parents battered, covered in fresh bruises and wounds. The pain in their eyes spoke of a brutal encounter, one they had barely survived. His chest tightened with anger and regret, but he forced himself to remain calm. Recalling the jar of healing pills his teacher had given him, he pulled out two and gently placed them in his parents' hands. The effects were immediate; the bruises faded, and his parents' strength returned.
When they finally sat together, his parents recounted the details of the attack: the Black Tied Sect had come, claiming vengeance for what the veiled woman had done in saving his family earlier. His father had fought bravely, but even he couldn't hold them off for long. Hearing his parents' story kindled a burning resolve within Jonathan, yet he knew he was no match for the sect at his current level.
"They've marked us now," Jonathan said quietly, gripping his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. "I will make them pay for this—one day."
"Son, don't be reckless," his father cautioned. "They're far stronger than us. The strength it would take… it's beyond our reach."
Jonathan forced himself to nod, though his heart seethed. "I won't act foolishly, Father. But this—what they've done to you—I won't let it go unpunished. I'll make them regret this attack."
As he spoke, an intense energy surged within him, his fists clenched so tightly that blood seeped from his knuckles. For a fleeting moment, his eyes flashed red, an aura of raw, untamed power radiating from him. The strange force was as startling as it was thrilling, stirring a determination within him to find strength worthy of his vows. After instructing his family to stay hidden at his uncle's home for safety, Jonathan prepared to leave for Spiritual Mountain once more, resolute in his mission.
---
At Spiritual Mountain, the sun was setting, bathing the land in hues of amber and violet. Standing on the stone terrace, Jonathan gazed down into the valley, his thoughts heavy with the memory of his family's suffering. The warmth of the sunset belied the storm churning inside him, an aching desire for power that simmered beneath his calm exterior.
The familiar, soft voice of his teacher broke the silence. "Your heart is clouded with sorrow, Jonathan."
Jonathan turned to face her. She stood draped in pale silver robes that shimmered like water in the fading light, her eyes as mysterious as ever behind her veil. The dusk shadows played over her face, adding to the air of wisdom and solemnity she carried.
"Master, my family was attacked," he said, the words spilling out in frustration. "The Black Tied Sect—they've targeted us now because of what happened. I want to protect them, but I need more power, more knowledge. Please, teach me to refine pills and cultivate the strength to defend them."
The woman studied him in silence, her gaze unwavering.
"Your resolve is noble, Jonathan," she said, gesturing for him to sit beside her. He folded his legs beneath him, waiting intently. "But the journey you seek is not a simple one. It will require patience, precision, and great discipline."
She lifted her hand, tracing patterns in the twilight air. "There are levels to the art of pill refinement, each one more demanding than the last. The simplest are the Mortal-Grade pills. They aid in basic healing and physical enhancement—a wise choice for a beginner, as they do not require great spiritual energy."
Jonathan listened intently as she continued.
"Beyond them are the Spirit-Grade pills, which draw from the life force around us, restoring and nurturing the soul. These pills are foundational for many cultivators but require a steady hand and a clear, focused mind." She paused, looking at him gravely. "Then come the Earth-Grade pills. These harness the strength of the earth itself. Attempting to refine these demands skill, for the consequences of failure can be… severe."
Her tone held a solemn warning, yet Jonathan felt a thrill at the promise of power. "And what lies beyond the Earth-Grade?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
Her voice softened, her eyes narrowing with caution. "The Heaven-Grade pills. These contain the essence of the heavens themselves, capable of propelling a cultivator to new limits. But their potency is perilous; a single misstep could lead to madness—or worse."
Jonathan's eyes widened as he absorbed her words. He wanted this knowledge, this power, more than ever, but a flicker of fear crept into his heart.
"And higher still?" he murmured.
She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There are Mystic-Grade pills—a level so rare and dangerous that even many masters never attempt it. Only those with profound understanding of life and death should attempt to refine them, for they draw on forces that can consume an unworthy soul."
She fixed him with a fierce look. "Do you see now, Jonathan? Every grade of pill demands respect, knowledge, and skill. To rush through these levels without mastery is not bravery; it is suicide."
As her words sank in, he felt their weight settle over him. But the fire in his heart did not dim; if anything, it burned brighter.
"I understand, Master," he said quietly. "I don't seek this power out of recklessness. I need to protect those I love."
For a brief moment, he thought he saw a smile beneath her veil. "Then we shall start at the beginning," she replied. "Your purpose is just, and your heart strong. But remember—power without patience can be as deadly as any blade."
Placing a steady hand on his shoulder, she met his gaze, a spark of encouragement in her eyes.
"The journey will be long, Jonathan," she said, "but if you stay true, there is no limit to what you may achieve."
As the last light of day faded, Jonathan felt a shift within him, as if his spirit had taken root in something larger. The night spread over the mountain, and he knew, in the depths of his soul, that this path would change him—and, one day, perhaps the world.