After failing Foundation Establishment, Zuo Tian’s cultivation plummeted back to the Qi Refining Ninth Layer.

He did not lose heart.

Beneath the starry sky, he pressed on, striving once more for Foundation Establishment.

In barely half an hour, he surged forward with terrifying speed, scaling the steps until his fingers brushed that transcendent gate—

He should have pushed it open effortlessly.

Yet again, Foundation Establishment failed him.

Zuo Tian coughed dryly; specks of blood flecked his lips. His usually lazy brows knotted tight, as if straining to burst.

This time, he tumbled to the Qi Refining Eighth Layer—bloodstained robes, pallid face gleaming with cold sweat.

His once-radiant fate now bore an indelible ink stain.

As if a graceful maiden had wielded a sword as brush, twisting yin and yang, cleaving heaven and earth.

Even the faintest trace of unease and fear had become an unforgivable flaw on his path to glory.

“I can’t accept this.”

Gritting his teeth against searing agony, he pushed onward.

Until dawn broke.

Zuo Tian opened his eyes, bloodless and hollow.

Qi Refining Ninth Layer.

Stuck.

He couldn’t ascend—simply couldn’t.

“Rest awhile,” sighed the remnant soul of the venerable ancestor beside his ear. “On the cultivation path, obsession breeds ruin. Guard your true heart.”

“Zuo Tian, you’re so pale,” Yang Jin murmured, concern softening his voice. “Still upset? Gao Rongrong said… Su Yingsnow likes… Luo…”

“Don’t.”

Zuo Tian offered Yang Jin a smile gentle as spring breeze. “I don’t care.”

Unburdened, he embraced heaven’s mandate;

A hidden dragon waits in the abyss, for clouds to rise.

Luo Qingchuan? Not worthy of my glance.

*If I wished him gone,* Zuo Tian mused, *a flick of my finger would suffice.*

The proud never quarrel with the weak.

A pity—he should have reached Foundation Establishment overnight.

His gaze drifted to Su Yingsnow. The celestial girl still watched the gym doors, eyes shimmering with longing, waiting.

He needed a reason to challenge her.

Unbroken inner demons would chain his ascent forever.

“No need to wait,” chuckled the young man in Taoist robes. “The Path of Inquiry yields to no force. Ordinary life holds joy too. Each walks their own road.”

Yang Jin couldn’t hold back: “Bet Luo Qingchuan’s too scared his talent’s lacking.”

Arms crossed, he sneered, “We might join Demoncleave or Evilbane—dangerous paths. That rich kid craves comfort, not duty. When trouble comes? He’ll fold like a coward.”

Truthfully, Yang Jin bore Luo Qingchuan no ill will.

But Zuo Tian did.

It might’ve meant nothing.

But Zuo Tian had soared to Qi Refining Ninth Layer in one night—nearly broke through!

So now, everything mattered.

Riding coattails? No shame. Yang Jin knew Zuo Tian was thin-skinned, quietly intense—he’d smooth the path first.

Luo Qingchuan stole Su Yingsnow’s heart, while Zuo Tian’s overnight leap spread through the Pathseeker Class group. *Surely trembling by now.*

Su Yingsnow’s delicate brows furrowed. She spared no words.

But silence broke.

A slightly plump boy muttered, face tight: “Yang Jin, Luo’s just late. Must you scorn him?”

“He drops a red packet, and you scramble to be his lackey?” Yang Jin grinned. “Can’t afford KFC anymore?”

The boy shot a cold glance at Zuo Tian’s unreadable face. “Wonder who the real lackey is.”

Students watched, expressions varied—mostly amused.

Zuo Tian’s face whitened further. A crystalline chill glinted in his half-lidded eyes.

The Taoist-robed youth lowered his hands, pressing gently into the air.

“Enough.”

An invisible calm settled. The hall stilled.

“No quarrels. Listen closely.”

He gestured to the cosmos-swirling crystal ball.

“This is the ‘Spirit Seeker.’ Touch it to test your spiritual root.”

Then to the ancient bronze mirror: “This is the ‘Truthseer.’ Stand before it—answer with heart and will. It reads your character, your foundation.”

Hands clasped behind his back, he smiled freely.

“I am Lu Wu. My realm: Golden Core—the third stage.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Awe-struck eyes locked onto him.

“Teacher Lu is incredible!”

“So strong! Taking disciples? I brew perfect tea, cook masterfully—my dad’s a head chef!”

“Golden Core’s above Foundation Establishment? Gotta flex this in the group!”

Unmoved, Lu Wu’s voice softened yet carried soul-deep weight:

“I am three hundred seventeen years old. Through frost and storm, I walked this path. If your results fall short, let my journey be your mirror. Walk steadily. Do not despair. Wait—clouds part, moon shines.”

Silence.

Thoughtful faces bloomed.

All but Su Yingsnow.

She’d waited all night. He never came.

Her eyes clouded. *What held him back?*

Anxiety tightened her chest. The gym’s air felt leaden.

Phone in hand, she typed:

[Haven’t arrived yet?]

[It’s starting.]

[What if you’re late? Disqualified?]

[Luo Qingchuan… I’m scared.]

Morning light bleached the playground white as paper.

Luo Qingchuan, rushing through the gate, felt his phone vibrate. Heart leaping, he stumbled—then sprinted, worry etched deep.

*She’s… a little thin-skinned, isn’t she?*

He’d brought her a gift. Last night, Sage Points spent without hesitation: a flying sword for his wife’s future safety.

Named *Solitary Stag*.

Now nestled in the Sage System’s storage.

*If asked?* Easy. Family wealth. Black-market storage ring? Perfectly normal.

He pictured Su Yingsnow—slender fingers guiding the blade, celestial grace.

Beneath the school’s towering parasol tree, a withered leaf trembled.

A dainty foot in a petite heel settled lightly upon it.

Lu Chuning gazed down at Luo Qingchuan’s swift, steady strides.

No sign of last night’s injury.

The petite girl whispered, voice like wind through bamboo: “Is it you?”

Shattered leaf fragments spiraled up her slender legs, brushed away by her swaying skirt. Twin tails swayed behind her delicate shoulders, faint as lingering fragrance.

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