Long Chen stood in his quarters for a moment, weighing his options.
The Martial Pavilion's third floor held King-ranked techniques. Valuable. Potentially game-changing.
But techniques meant nothing without the cultivation to support them. He was Qi Gathering Stage 5. Against the geniuses coming to the joint examination—people from major sects, other clans, rogue cultivators who'd clawed their way to the top—that wouldn't be enough. Not to say techniques of that caliber needed time to increase their mastery.
He needed raw power first. Then techniques.
The Spirit Spring it was.
Long Chen tucked the jade slip into his robe, grabbed a clean set of clothes, and left his quarters.
The path to the Spirit Spring wound through the clan's inner districts. Past courtyards where core disciples sparred with real weapons, their strikes fast enough to blur. Past pavilions restricted to elders, where spiritual pressure leaked through closed doors like warnings.
Long Chen couldn't remember the last time he had been this deep into the compound before. Servants were never allowed here.
But he had a token now.
Guards stood at the first checkpoint—two outer disciples in polished armor, spears crossed to block the path. One of them stepped forward as Long Chen approached.
"State your business."
Long Chen pulled out the jade slip. "Spirit Spring. One week access."
The guard's eyes widened slightly when he saw the token. He glanced at his partner, who nodded once.
"Pass."
They uncrossed their spears.
Long Chen walked through without comment. Behind him, he heard whispered conversations.
"That's the servant who crippled Shenlie."
"Qi acquisition Stage 5 but crippled a stage 7."
"Heard he comprehended Sword Aura."
"Heavens. Such a genius was demoted to a servant."
He ignored them. Two more checkpoints followed, each with the same pattern. Guards looking at his token. Guards looking at him. Guards stepping aside.
Word had spread fast.
The Spirit Spring sat at the base of a small waterfall in the eastern gardens. Natural rock formations surrounded it, carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly in the afternoon light. The waterfall itself cascaded down from somewhere high in the Fallen Dragon Mountains, its source hidden in mist.
But it wasn't the waterfall that drew Long Chen's attention.
It was the pool.
Maybe twenty meters across, its surface was perfectly still despite the waterfall feeding it. Steam rose from the water—not from heat, but from the sheer density of spiritual energy. The air around it felt thick, almost solid, pressing against his skin like invisible hands.
And there were people inside.
Long Chen stopped at the pool's edge, counting. Seven disciples. All of them core members judging by their robes. Most sat cross-legged in the shallower areas, eyes closed, cultivation techniques active. Two floated near the center where the energy was densest.
A stone tablet stood near the entrance. Long Chen walked over and read the inscribed rules.
**SPIRIT SPRING REGULATIONS**
1. Maximum occupancy: 15 disciples
2. Cultivation sessions limited to 8-hour blocks
3. No combat techniques permitted within the spring
4. Disputes resolved by presiding elder
5. Disruption of others' cultivation is forbidden
6. Access requires contribution points or special token
Contribution points. The currency servants never earned. The barrier that had kept people like him out for years.
Until now.
Long Chen looked down at the jade slip in his hand, then at the disciples cultivating peacefully in the spring.
'They're going to hate this.'
He found a flat rock near the pool's edge and set down his outer robe, boots, and weapons. Demon Dweller and Dragonfang stayed within arm's reach—he wasn't stupid enough to leave them unguarded.
Then he stripped down to his underwear and stepped into the water.
The cold hit him first. Then the energy.
Spiritual qi rushed into his body the moment his foot touched the surface, flooding through his meridians like a dam had broken. His breath caught. The density here was insane—easily ten times what he'd felt in the back mountains.
Long Chen waded deeper, the water rising to his waist, then his chest. The pressure increased with every step. By the time he reached a spot about five meters from the edge, it felt like carrying a boulder on his shoulders.
Good. More pressure meant more energy. More energy meant faster cultivation.
He sat down cross-legged, the water reaching his neck, and closed his eyes.
The Heavenly Demon Cultivation Technique activated immediately. Spiritual energy poured into his dantian in rivers, condensing into liquid qi faster than anything he'd experienced before.
Then his martial spirit appeared.
The Celestial Dragon manifested behind him—golden scales glittering, eyes burning with ancient light. It wasn't as large as it had been in the dream, maybe fifteen meters long, but its presence still pressed down on the entire spring.
Several disciples' eyes snapped open. They stared at the dragon with expressions ranging from shock to envy.
Long Chen ignored them. He focused on his cultivation, letting the technique guide the flow of energy.
But the dragon had other plans.
Its massive jaws opened wide and it began swallowing spiritual energy like a vacuum.
The effect was immediate.
The water around Long Chen started swirling, pulled toward him in visible currents. Spiritual energy condensed so fast it created faint ripples across the pool's surface. The steam thickened and the air grew heavier.
And the disciples near him started struggling.
"What the—" one of them gasped, his eyes flying open. "My cultivation speed just dropped by half!"
"Mine too!" another disciple said, her face pale. "Something's draining the spring!"
All seven pairs of eyes turned toward Long Chen.
More specifically, toward the golden dragon hovering behind him, its mouth open wide, swallowing rivers of spiritual energy with every breath.
"Is that... a martial spirit?"
"What rank is that thing "
"It's eating all the energy!"
One disciple—a broad-shouldered youth with a scar across his jaw—stood up, water streaming off his body. "Hey! Servant! You're disrupting our cultivation!"
Long Chen's eyes opened slowly. He looked at the disciple without expression.
The man took a step forward, anger written across his face. "I don't care if you have a token. You can't just—"
The dragon turned its head toward him.
And the disciple stopped in his track, his face went pale. He stumbled backward so fast he nearly fell. "I... I apologize. Please, continue."
He scrambled out of the pool and grabbed his things. Two other disciples followed immediately, not even bothering with excuses.
The remaining four exchanged glances. Then, one by one, they relocated to the far side of the spring, as far from Long Chen as they could get.
Within minutes, the area around him was empty.
Long Chen closed his eyes again. 'That works.'
He let the dragon feed. The martial spirit's appetite was bottomless, pulling in spiritual energy faster than the spring could naturally replenish it. But the waterfall kept flowing, kept feeding the pool, maintaining a balance.
For now.
Long Chen sank deeper into cultivation. The energy flooded his dantian, condensing, compressing, pushing against the barriers between stages.
Hours passed. Then days.
Day one. Qi Gathering Stage 5 stabilized. His foundation solidified, impurities burned away by the constant flow of pure spiritual energy.
Day two. He had reached stage 6. The breakthrough came smoothly, almost effortlessly. The liquid qi in his dantian doubled in volume, then compressed again, becoming denser, more potent.
By day three, his meridians expanded, restructured themselves to handle the increased flow. Every pathway in his body widened, strengthened, refined by constant use.
Day four, he'd gotten to stage 7. This one took longer. The barrier was thicker, more resistant. But the spring's energy kept pouring in, kept hammering against it until it shattered.
Day five. Consolidation. Long Chen spent the entire day stabilizing his new cultivation level, ensuring his foundation remained solid. Rushed breakthroughs led to instability. He couldn't afford that.
Day six, he pushed for Stage 8. The barrier resisted harder this time. The energy requirements were massive—more than double what Stage 7 had needed.
But the dragon kept feeding. Kept pulling in rivers of spiritual qi. Kept condensing it into his dantian until the pressure became almost unbearable.
Then, on the morning of the sixth day, it broke.
Qi Gathering Stage 8.
Power flooded through Long Chen's body. His muscles strengthened. His bones hardened. His senses sharpened to the point where he could hear individual water droplets hitting the pool's surface.
He opened his eyes, breathing slowly, feeling the difference.
Three full stages in six days. That was insane. Most cultivators took months to advance a single stage at this level.
But he wasn't done yet, he decided to take one of the Foundation Establishment Pills certain his spirit can take it
Long Chen closed his eyes again and circulated the Heavenly Demon Cultivation Technique. The dragon continued feeding, its appetite never seeming to diminish.
The spiritual energy in the spring grew thinner. The water level dropped slightly. Even the disciples on the far side had stopped cultivating—there wasn't enough energy left for them to make progress.
They just sat there, watching him with expressions caught between awe and resentment.
Then, without warning, the dragon screamed.
The sound tore through the garden like a physical force. Birds scattered from trees. Disciples stumbled. Even the waterfall seemed to pause for a heartbeat.
Long Chen's eyes snapped open.
The dragon thrashed behind him, its body convulsing. Golden scales began cracking, splitting, falling away like brittle leaves. Blood—golden blood—seeped from the wounds, dripping into the spring water.
'What the—'
Pain shot through Long Chen's chest. His connection to the martial spirit meant he felt everything it felt. And right now, it felt like his body was being torn apart from the inside.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay conscious.
The dragon's scales continued falling. Underneath, new scales were growing—brighter, shinier, almost metallic. They spread across its body in waves, replacing the old ones completely.
The membranes stretched, growing larger, more defined. Veins of gold ran through them like rivers of light.
And then the pressure came.
It radiated from the dragon in pulses, each one stronger than the last. The air grew heavy. The water in the spring rippled violently. Disciples on the far side scrambled out completely, running for the garden's exit.
Long Chen stayed. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. The connection to his martial spirit held him in place.
The dragon's body elongated. Its horns grew sharper. Its eyes burned brighter, shifting from gold to a deeper, more intense amber.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the transformation stopped.
The dragon hovered behind Long Chen, fully reformed. It was larger now—maybe twenty meters long. Its scales gleamed like polished metal.
And the pressure it radiated... it was different. Denser. More refined and alive. The presence of something that had crossed a threshold.
Long Chen stared at the blood in the spring as it also gave off the same pressure
The dragon's eyes focused on Long Chen.
Then, suddenly, information flooded into his mind.