After meeting Feng Shan, Ling Yun returned to the residence that had been assigned to him. His conversation with Shan Feng had gone well—well enough to leave a strong impression. Shan Feng, who was in the Foundation Establishment realm, couldn't discern Ling Yun's cultivation level, which worked in Ling Yun's favor.
In his room, he sat cross-legged on a small mat and entered a meditative state. Developing a breathing technique suited to the fire element was inevitable. Ling Yun knew he couldn't remain hidden in this estate forever. He had grand ambitions, and if he wanted to achieve them, he needed to take his first steps—fast.
Yet, his progress was frustratingly slow.
"This Dao curse has too many side effects. One of the key methods for creating a technique is to receive insight from the heavens. But ever since I was cursed, I've lost that connection."
"Without insight, understanding the intricate links between different cultivation paths becomes much harder. Now, I have to develop a technique purely on my own, without any guidance from the heavens. Even for me—someone who was once a Heavenly Demon for thousands of years—this is no easy task. Especially since my cultivation level is so low… I'm not even truly immortal yet."
Six hours passed. Ling Yun had made only slight progress in forming a new cultivation method.
Rising to his feet, he let out a sigh and headed for the bath. The small breakthrough gave him a glimmer of hope, but he knew full well—he couldn't afford to be stuck in the Qi Refinement realm forever.
"At this rate, reaching the heavens is out of the question. I might not even break into the next realm. To step into the Foundation Establishment realm, I need a solid foundation—otherwise, advancing further will be impossible."
"Cultivation is like building a house. If my foundation in the Qi Refinement realm isn't deep enough, progressing through the higher realms will only get more difficult."
"I refuse to build a house on water. I have to find a way to bypass this curse—no matter what it takes."
Ling Yun removed his clothes and sank into the warm spring.
"The Forbidden Art of Reincarnation… Even though I managed to use it, it's still incomplete. I have a long way to go before I can truly master it."
"Cultivation is tied to the soul, but my soul has no cultivation at all. The second layer of Qi Refinement… it doesn't even belong to me. I only have it because of the remnants left behind by this body's previous owner."
"So, the price of using the Forbidden Art of Reincarnation… was the loss of my cultivation."
"I sacrificed my cultivation, took over another person's body, and with my past life's memories intact, I traveled through time."
"If that's the case… then maybe, by sacrificing my cultivation again, I could travel through time once more. Reincarnate into another body. Or perhaps… even break the curse itself."
But things were never that simple. The strict laws of the heavens shackled cultivators, and Ling Yun knew this all too well. The price of breaking his curses might very well be an even greater curse…
"Even if it's possible, my actions could bring immense karmic weight upon me, pushing me down the demonic path—a path that severs one's connection to the Dao of Fortune."
"I might even bring ruin upon the Ling family… and that would put me at odds with the instincts of this body's original owner."
There were too many factors to consider, each needing careful deliberation. This was only the beginning of Ling Yun's journey.
Ascension carried an indescribable allure—much like climbing a mountain. It was arduous, demanding, and merciless, but reaching the summit granted a joy beyond measure. Anyone who wished to stand atop the world had to risk everything to see the heavens bow beneath their feet.
Ling Yun let out a quiet sigh, lost in thought about the uncertain future and the countless possibilities that lay ahead.
---
Feng Clan's Grand Estate – Hall of Honor
Feng Shan stood before the ancestral sword of the Feng Clan's founder, gazing at its blade in silence. After a moment, he turned to face his daughter, Feng Lan.
Their relationship was distant, their meetings infrequent. Feng Lan knew full well that this encounter wasn't for her sake—there was another reason behind it.
Feng Shan studied his daughter briefly before asking,
"Lan, how far have you progressed in your training?"
Feng Lan kept her head lowered, avoiding his gaze. She didn't want him to see the concern in her eyes.
"Second layer of Qi Refinement, Father."
Feng Shan turned back to the ancestral sword. Feng Lan didn't miss the faint trace of disappointment in his expression.
"Where do you think your limit lies, Lan?"
Cultivation, much like the Dao itself, had no true end, even though cultivators had divided their paths into countless realms.
But in truth, Feng Shan wasn't asking to assess his daughter's spiritual potential—he was measuring the limits of her mindset.
Feng Lan understood this to some extent, but she couldn't grasp the deeper meaning behind his words.
"My limit is wherever I can no longer advance, Father. That is where my journey ends."
Feng Shan suddenly let out a deep, hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! A clever answer, Lan."
But then, his expression darkened.
"And yet, it is wrong. For the cultivators of the Feng Clan, our final limit… is death."
"Prepare yourself. Your grandfather will be coming out of seclusion soon. You must be ready to receive the gift we've arranged for you."
Feng Lan knelt before her father in silence, offering no reply.
Library and Alchemy Hall
Ling Yun made his way to the library before heading to the Alchemy Hall. As a former God of Alchemy, he could confidently claim mastery over all medicinal herbs and their properties. Even though he was currently at the early stages of Qi Refinement, he could still refine basic pills with ease.
Pill refinement was an incredibly complex process. To successfully create a pill, an alchemist had to maintain absolute focus throughout the stages of combination, separation, purification, and condensation of the elixir.
Fire control was also an inseparable part of this process. Alchemists used various types of flames for pill refinement, the most common being Qi Fire—a flame produced by burning the Qi within one's own body. The higher a cultivator's realm, the stronger and hotter their Qi Fire became. Its potency was directly tied to the practitioner's cultivation level, which meant that high-level alchemists wielded far more powerful flames.
Ling Yun was currently at the second layer of the Qi Refinement realm.
While this realm was considered weak for martial cultivators, it was a common level among the alchemists of this region. Advancing to higher realms required an immense amount of refined energy, but because alchemists constantly consumed their own energy reserves, many of them lacked the necessary foundation to break through. This was why alchemy, without sufficient resources, was nothing short of suicide on the Daoist path.
Ling Yun stood before a large silver cauldron, flanked by several mid-grade bronze and iron cauldrons. On the far side of the Alchemy Hall, dried spiritual herbs were neatly arranged according to their properties and harvest times. In another section, manuals and recipes for various pills were carefully stored.
He stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"Most mortal-grade pills have low purity. Even the best pills on this continent probably don't exceed forty percent purity."
"Mid-grade pills range between forty to fifty percent, while high-grade pills reach fifty to sixty percent."
"Legendary pills can achieve up to seventy percent purity, while celestial-grade pills reach as high as eighty percent."
"Many factors influence a pill's purity… the alchemist's fire control, the type of flame, the cauldron's material, the refinement technique, the quality of ingredients, the pill's density, storage conditions, the alchemist's experience… and much more."
He flipped through a book he had borrowed from the public library. It contained detailed descriptions and illustrations of many herbs, including those laid out on the nearby table.
Ling Yun carefully examined each plant, making mental notes and even adding his own annotations in the book's margins.
In his mind, he had already refined those herbs countless times—simulating the process with the same quality ingredients and using iron cauldrons. Yet, every attempt had ended in failure, all because of the Curse of Fortune.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, watching as Feng Clan's alchemy disciples entered the hall one by one.
They paid him no attention, each focused on their own tasks.
A sly smile crept onto Ling Yun's lips.
This was a perfect opportunity.
By observing the flames of the Feng Clan's alchemists, he could gain the insight he needed to craft a technique of his own.