Li Chen sat cross-legged, deep within his hidden basin, his eyes closed yet mind alert to every whisper of qi around him. Foundation Establishment had been fully consolidated—his body, mind, and sword intent in perfect alignment. Yet within the depths of his dantian, something stirred.
It began as a faint vibration—a subtle resonance unlike the ordinary circulation of qi. At first, Li Chen dismissed it as a minor fluctuation, a residual echo from his consolidation. But the pulse returned, slightly stronger each cycle, almost as if something buried within his core was awakening.
The Divine Sword Breathing Technique.
He had thought of it many times. The technique, sealed by the elders for fear of its potential, had remained dormant within his mind—a treasure hidden, locked behind countless spiritual seals. Yet now, as his foundation solidified, the first restraints loosened. Small threads of its essence began to brush against his consciousness, faint but unmistakable.
Li Chen exhaled slowly, letting his qi circulate evenly, creating space for the breathing technique to awaken. He dared not rush it. Such a power, if unleashed prematurely, would be catastrophic. His sword intent hummed, coiling around the initial stirrings of the divine technique, anchoring it gently within his dantian.
A flicker of white light pulsed within his core—a private, invisible glow that no one outside could perceive. With it came the first sensation of the Divine Sword Breathing: a rhythm, steady and subtle, like the flow of wind across a sword's edge, urging him to move, to inhale, to exhale, to strike with the unity of breath, body, and intent.
Li Chen's hands flexed unconsciously. So this is the first whisper of its power, he thought. The technique was not fully formed—its movements fragmented, its potential vast but barely accessible. It responded only in faint pulses as his body synchronized with his newly consolidated foundation. One deep breath, and a tiny surge of sword intent spiraled outward, contained, yet infinitely more precise than anything he had ever cultivated consciously.
He opened his eyes slightly, noticing the faint distortion around him—a ripple too subtle for the realm to detect. Good, he mused. If this were detected, it would be impossible to conceal. The elders would know instantly.
Li Chen's expression darkened. This awakening had to be slow. Too fast, and the hidden world would take notice. He allowed the technique to unfold in increments, drawing only enough power from it to reinforce his foundation and refine his body further. Each controlled breath strengthened his organs, his bones, his sword intent, without spilling excess energy.
The Divine Breath was remarkable. With each inhalation, it aligned with his qi channels, subtly enhancing his internal circulation. With each exhalation, it refined his sword intent, sharpening its focus without increasing outward visibility. Over the course of several cycles, Li Chen could feel the technique stretching, integrating with his body like a living presence.
Yet even as it awakened, the Divine Breath demanded precision, demanded vigilance. One misstep and it could tear at his dantian, destabilize his foundation, or even trigger the remnants of the elders' sealing formations. Li Chen's brow creased as he carefully regulated his pulse, his breathing, his heart rate—everything perfectly synchronized with the faint rhythm of the technique.
A small, almost imperceptible white glow now hovered along the edges of his dantian, visible only to him. A private, divine whisper of immense power. Li Chen allowed himself the smallest smile.
This is only the beginning.
Foundation Establishment had not only solidified his body and qi—it had unlocked the first step of a technique that could one day make him unstoppable. Step by step, pulse by pulse, breath by breath, he would awaken it fully.
And when that day came, the Realm of Hidden Origins—and anyone who dared oppose him—would know what it meant to face the unity of a perfected body, mind, sword intent, and divine breathing.
For now, Li Chen settled back into meditation, letting the white pulse weave through him, cautious yet exhilarated. The path ahead remained perilous, but with the foundation strong and the Divine Sword Breathing slowly unfurling, he felt something rare in his long, careful life: hope.
Hope that he could protect Xu Ming.
Hope that he could survive this realm.
Hope that the technique, when fully realized, would become a force beyond reckoning.
And with that, he closed his eyes, breath syncing perfectly with the faint pulse of a divine power that would one day define him.