Long Chen sat on his cultivation platform, eyes closed, qi circulating through his meridians in steady rhythms. The Heavenly Demon Cultivation Technique pulsed through his body, compressing spiritual energy into his dantian over and over again.
Three days had passed since Azazel's warning about the ancient enemies. Three days of non-stop cultivation.
And still, no breakthrough.
He could feel it—the barrier between peak Qi Gathering and Foundation Establishment. It was right there, just beyond reach, like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands.
His jaw clenched as he pushed harder, forcing more qi into his dantian, compressing it further and further until—
Pain shot through his chest.
Long Chen's eyes snapped open, gasping. His hand clutched at his ribs where a sharp ache had flared. Not external or internal, like something inside had been stretched too far.
*You're forcing it,* Azazel said, his voice cutting through Long Chen's concentration with that infuriating casual tone.
