The days following the rankings passed in a deceptive calm.
Riverstone Regional Academy hummed with the usual rhythm: drills in the morning, lectures at midday, quiet cultivation in the evenings. Students adjusted to their new positions—some with quiet pride, others with veiled resentment. Alliances shifted subtly, conversations carried hidden edges.
Lin Wei moved through it all with the same measured pace. He accepted no invitations from the Zhao family. He declined no offers outright. He simply... observed.
Seventh rank had granted him visibility without isolation. Eyes followed him, but so far, no hands reached out to grasp.
Yet he knew it was temporary.
The sponsorship offer from Zhao Feng lingered in his mind—not as temptation, but as a reminder. Greater sects would come. Challenges would escalate. His current strength, while stable, was not enough for what lay ahead.
He needed more.
Not just qi. Not just knowledge.
Experience.
Raw, unfiltered challenge.
That night, after the curfew bell tolled, Lin Wei slipped from his quarters. His robe was plain, hood drawn low. He moved through the shadows of the outer grounds, avoiding the patrolling attendants with ease. The academy walls loomed ahead, a faint barrier array humming softly in the dark.
He placed a hand on the stone, channeled a thin thread of purified qi, and stepped through. The array parted like water, resealing behind him without alarm.
Riverstone City lay just beyond—a modest sprawl of lanterns and cobblestone streets, alive even at this hour with merchants closing shops and cultivators seeking discreet dealings.
Lin Wei headed toward the central pavilion market. The air smelled of incense and forged metal, the faint tang of spirit herbs mingling with the night's chill.
The Weapon Pavilion stood unassuming among the others: a two-story building with faded red lanterns swaying in the breeze. Its sign read simply "Eternal Forge Armory." No grand displays. No hawkers calling out wares.
Perfect.
He entered.
The interior was dimly lit, shelves lined with blades, spears, and staffs of varying quality. A grizzled shopkeeper—Qi Refining Middle stage—looked up from polishing a dagger.
"Looking for something specific?" the man asked, voice rough but neutral.
"A sword," Lin Wei said. "Ordinary. Functional."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "Ordinary? Most come here for flair. But suit yourself."
He led Lin Wei to a back rack, pulling down a simple straight sword. The blade was dull gray, hilt wrapped in plain leather, no engravings or glow. It looked like any mortal weapon—unremarkable, forgotten.
"Ten low-grade spirit stones," the shopkeeper said. "It's sturdy. Nothing special."
Lin Wei took it, testing the balance. It felt... right. Heavy in a way that promised reliability, light enough for speed.
He paid without haggling and left.
As he walked back toward the academy, he allowed a faint thread of qi to brush the blade.
A soft hum answered—subtle, almost imperceptible.
Not ordinary at all.
Back in his quarters, Lin Wei sat cross-legged and examined the sword more closely. The silver light in his dantian stirred gently, extending toward the weapon.
Impure residues rose like faint smoke—dust of ages, seals layered deep within the metal. As they evaporated, the truth emerged.
This was no mortal blade.
It was a sealed artifact, its true power hidden beneath layers of restriction.
Artifacts, as Lin Wei recalled from scattered academy lectures, were graded by their innate spiritual resonance and craftsmanship:
Mortal Weapon: Basic tools for beginners, no qi enhancement.
Spirit Weapon: Infused with low-level spirit energy, suitable for Qi Refining cultivators.
Earth Artifact: Durable, with elemental affinities, for Foundation Establishment.
Heaven Artifact: Refined with heavenly materials, granting special abilities.
King Artifact: Royal-grade, often with soul-binding potential, for Core Formation experts.
Saint Artifact: Sacred relics, capable of law manipulation.
Emperor Artifact: Imperial treasures, suppressing realms.
Divine Artifact: Godly weapons, defying heavens—legends only.
This sword pulsed with the faint aura of a King Artifact, sealed to appear as a mere Mortal Weapon. Perhaps damaged in ancient battles, or deliberately hidden to avoid theft.
Lin Wei smiled faintly.
With a focused will, he purified it further—not fully, to avoid drawing attention, but enough to unlock a sliver of its potential. The blade gleamed subtly now, edge sharper than before, a quiet hunger for qi humming within.
Next step: a technique.
The following morning, after drills, Lin Wei headed to the academy library—a towering structure in the inner grounds, accessible to outer disciples with ranking privileges.
The librarian—an elderly woman at Foundation Establishment—glanced at his token and waved him in.
The shelves stretched high, filled with jade slips and ancient scrolls. He browsed the martial arts section, seeking something basic.
He selected a slip labeled "Basic Sword Flow"—a Mortal Grade technique, simple stances for beginners.
Techniques, like artifacts, were graded by depth and power:
Mortal Grade: Fundamental moves, for Body Tempering and early Qi Refining.
Earth Grade: Enhanced with elemental qi, building foundations.
Heaven Grade: Profound insights, incorporating Dao principles.
King Grade: Royal arts, with multiplicative power.
Saint Grade: Sacred methods, touching on laws.
Emperor Grade: Imperial legacies, dominating realms.
Divine Grade: Heavenly paths, transcending mortality.
Back in his quarters, Lin Wei infused the slip with his purification light.
Black impurities rose, evaporating. The slip shimmered, text deepening, insights expanding.
From Mortal to Heaven Grade in moments.
"Flowing Heaven Sword Art," he murmured, the new name appearing in his mind.
It emphasized fluid motion, qi channeling through blade and body, adapting to threats like water around stone.
He spent the next few days training in seclusion—early mornings in hidden academy groves, evenings in his room. After several nights of controlled practice in hidden academy groves, Lin Wei felt the sword beginning to respond like an extension of his arm. The Flowing Heaven Sword Art's principles—fluidity, adaptation, redirection—were sinking into muscle memory. Theory was solidifying.
But theory alone would never forge mastery.
Danger was the true teacher.
That night, under a moonless sky, he slipped past the academy's outer barriers once more and entered the Whispering Ravine Forest. The air grew thick with spirit qi the deeper he went, the trees older, the shadows denser.
He moved methodically, not rushing.
First came a lone Qi Gathering Peak Shadow Lynx—fast, but predictable. Lin Wei met its pounce with "River's Bend," blade arcing smoothly. The edge sliced clean through fur and muscle. Core extracted, purified, absorbed. A small step forward.
Next, two mid-stage Qi Gathering Horned Boars charging in tandem. He flowed between them—"Cascade Fall" descending twice, precise and economical. Blood sprayed. Cores claimed.
Then a pack of three early Qi Gathering Crimson Fang Wolves. They circled, growling low. Lin Wei didn't retreat. He advanced.
"Flowing Heaven Sword Art – First Form: Gentle Current."
The blade danced, qi weaving through the strikes. One wolf fell to a throat cut. The second to a heart-piercing thrust. The third tried to flee—Lin Wei pursued, ending it with a downward cleave.
Breathing steady. Minor cuts on his forearm and thigh—already healing from purified qi. Four cores richer.
He pressed deeper.
Hours passed.
Beasts fell in ones and twos. Each encounter sharper than the last. The sword hummed louder now, drinking in the combat rhythm. Lin Wei felt the edge of Middle Qi Refining approaching—close, but not yet crossed.
Then the forest went unnaturally quiet.
No birds. No insects. Only the slow drip of water somewhere distant.
A low, guttural rumble rolled through the undergrowth.
From the mist stepped a Midnight Black Panther—Foundation Establishment Early stage.
Slightly over his current realm.
Its coat gleamed like liquid obsidian, eyes burning crimson. The aura it radiated was heavy, oppressive—far denser than any beast he'd faced tonight. One wrong move, and it would end him.
Lin Wei's grip tightened on the hilt.
This was no longer training.
This was survival.
The panther circled slowly, muscles rippling. It didn't rush. It studied him, just as he studied it.
Lin Wei exhaled once, centering himself.
The beast lunged—silent, blindingly fast.
He met it with "Gentle Current"—redirecting the initial pounce with a sweeping parry, blade guiding the claws aside like water parting around stone. The impact jarred his arms; the panther's strength was monstrous.
He dodged the follow-up swipe, rolling aside as claws tore earth where he'd stood.
Pain flared in his shoulder—grazed, bleeding.
The bark behind him shattered as the panther struck again. Its claws slammed into the trunk where Lin Wei's chest had been a breath earlier, splintering wood and sending fragments flying like shrapnel.
Lin Wei twisted sideways, shoulder scraping the tree. Pain flared as something tore — not deep, but enough to slow him.
Too strong.
Too fast.
The panther didn't give him space to recover. Its body blurred, vanishing from his sight an instant before reappearing above him, descending with both forepaws raised.
Lin Wei crossed his blade instinctively.
The impact drove him to one knee.
The ground cracked beneath him as Foundation Establishment qi pressed down like a physical weight. His arms trembled. The sword screamed as it absorbed the blow, silver light flickering unevenly.
So this is the difference between realms.
The panther landed and recoiled in the same motion, tail lashing out like a whip. Lin Wei barely ducked — the tip grazed his ribs, sending him tumbling across the clearing.
He rolled, came up, and slashed.
"Flowing Heaven Sword Art — Second Form: Silent Stream."
The blade didn't seek flesh. It redirected momentum. The panther's next charge slid past him by inches, Lin Wei's sword carving a shallow line across its flank instead of meeting force head-on.
The wound wasn't deep.
But it was precise.
The beast roared, aura surging violently. The pressure intensified, forcing Lin Wei to circulate qi faster just to stay upright. His breathing grew heavier, each inhale burning his lungs.
The panther leapt again — faster this time.
Lin Wei retreated three steps, then planted his foot.
Too much retreat, and he would lose control.
"Flowing Heaven Sword Art — Third Form: Cascade Fall."
His body moved like flowing water, narrowly evading claw after claw. Each dodge left shallow cuts behind — bark torn, stone cracked, earth gouged.
One misstep.
That was all it would take.
A claw clipped his thigh.
Blood spilled.
Lin Wei staggered, vision blurring for a heartbeat as the beast reared back for the finishing strike.
Life-death line.
Lin Wei's heart pounded—not with fear, but with clarity.
He channeled every drop of purified qi into the sword. The sealed King Artifact responded, humming fiercely, edge glowing faintly silver.
"Flowing Heaven Sword Art – Second Form: Silent Stream."
He didn't meet force with force.
He yielded.
The panther's next lunge—claws aimed for his chest—met empty air. Lin Wei slipped sideways, blade trailing like water. As the beast overextended, he twisted and drove the sword upward in a perfect arc.
The edge found the soft spot beneath the jaw.
Blood sprayed.
The panther roared, staggering.
Lin Wei didn't hesitate. He flowed forward—"Cascade Fall" descending twice more, each strike precise, each one carving deeper.
The beast collapsed, crimson eyes dimming.
Silence returned.
Lin Wei stood over the corpse, breathing hard, blood dripping from his shoulder and thigh. The wounds were deep, but not fatal. His qi surged—purified, relentless—pushing past the final barrier.
Breakthrough.
Qi Refining Middle stage.
The meridians widened, qi quality deepening further. The pain in his body receded as the new realm's energy washed through him.
He knelt, extracted the panther's core—a deep violet orb pulsing with dense power.
Purification light enveloped it.
Black impurities rose and vanished. The core became flawless, radiating pure, concentrated essence.
Lin Wei absorbed it slowly.
His cultivation stabilized at Middle Qi Refining—stronger, cleaner, more solid than before.
He wiped the blade clean on the panther's fur, sheathed it, and looked into the darkness.
The forest was still alive with threats.
But tonight, it had answered.
And he had answered back.