The basin was quiet again, but Li Chen's mind and body were far from idle. He had completed his Foundation Establishment, the first true step into a higher realm of cultivation, yet he knew that simply reaching this stage was not enough. Without consolidation, without meticulous refinement, the foundation would remain unstable, like a newly built tower on soft ground—strong only until the first heavy storm struck.
Li Chen closed his eyes, allowing his qi to circulate through his body in precise, measured rotations. Each meridian was carefully monitored, each minor imbalance corrected immediately. The process was slow, deliberate, and utterly exhausting. Even at peak Qi Condensation, the subtle internal adjustments required for foundation consolidation demanded a constant vigilance he could not afford to relax.
The sword intent embedded deep within him hummed faintly, a silent observer of his progress. Unlike earlier stages, where physical strength and bone density were paramount, foundation consolidation demanded the alignment of body, mind, and spirit. The sword intent acted as a stabilizing axis, ensuring that every pulse of qi, every refinement of flesh and organ, reinforced the dantian instead of fracturing it.
Li Chen's thoughts drifted briefly, as they inevitably did, to Xu Ming. The boy was far below his level now, still entrenched in bone forging and basic training. Yet Li Chen's mind kept replaying the image of Xu Ming, reckless but determined, chasing cultivation with a raw hunger that could either elevate him—or destroy him.
He needs guidance, Li Chen mused silently. And he needs protection.
This thought alone drove him to push further. Consolidation was not just a passive act; it was preparation. Preparation to intervene, to survive, to be capable of assisting Xu Ming should the need arise. Every rotation of qi, every careful alignment of sword intent, brought him closer to that readiness.
Hours passed—or perhaps days. Time was a distorted concept in the Realm of Hidden Origins, measured not by sun or moon, but by cycles of qi resonance and spatial stability. Li Chen moved through each cycle with painstaking precision, noting the tiniest fluctuations in his internal energy, the faintest imbalance in the flow of sword intent.
A subtle tremor passed through his dantian during one of these rotations—a warning, or perhaps an early test from the realm itself. Li Chen's eyes snapped open, aura immediately condensing into a thin, precise layer of defensive energy. No danger appeared. No attacks came. Only the faint whisper of potential disturbance, as if the realm itself were probing his newly established foundation.
Li Chen exhaled slowly, returning to his meditative rhythm.
Good, he thought. It is aware, but it cannot harm me.
By the third cycle, he began the final phase of consolidation: integration. Each refined bone, each tempered sinew, each subtle alignment of organs became more than just physical or spiritual improvement. They became part of a single, unified system—body and mind, sword intent and qi, all woven together. Even the faintest inconsistencies were corrected, ironed out with surgical precision.
The process was exhausting. Sweat dripped down his temples, his muscles ached from prolonged static cultivation, and his mind teetered on the edge of focus and fatigue. Yet Li Chen did not falter. Even here, in solitude, he pushed himself beyond comfort, knowing that consolidation was the hidden step most cultivators ignored—and the step where disaster often struck.
Finally, as the distorted jade sky dimmed once more, Li Chen exhaled a long, measured breath. He felt it clearly: his foundation was no longer fragile. The dantian hummed with a steady resonance, the sword intent woven perfectly into his core, his body tempered and responsive.
He rose slowly, testing each movement, each rotation of qi, each subtle response of his sword intent. Everything flowed perfectly. He was no longer merely someone who had reached the Foundation Establishment Realm. He was solid, prepared, and unseen.
Li Chen allowed himself the smallest hint of satisfaction. Not joy, not celebration—these were luxuries reserved for the careless—but a calm acknowledgment of progress.
He thought again of Xu Ming, and for a brief moment, a rare warmth touched his chest. The boy would need guidance, and when the time came, Li Chen would be ready—not just strong, but unwavering, precise, and unyielding.
For now, though, consolidation complete, he returned to meditation, readying his body and mind for the next step: Viscera Training, where organs themselves became conduits for his sword intent, and every heartbeat could become a weapon.
In this hidden basin, unnoticed by the Realm, Li Chen's quiet ascension continued—methodical, deadly, and resolute.