**Chapter 2: The Clear Breeze Market and the First Stroke**
The dawn arrived in the Azure Cloud Realm not with a sudden burst of light, but with a slow, creeping violet hue that gradually dissolved the night's shadows. Inside the small, dilapidated thatch hut, Lu Yuan opened his eyes.
There was no grogginess, no lingering fatigue, and most importantly, no aching joints. In his past life on Earth, sleeping on a wooden plank with only a thin straw mat would have left him entirely crippled for the day, his lower back screaming in protest. But now, as he drew in a deep breath, he felt a profound, thrumming vitality coursing through his veins.
He closed his eyes and looked inward. Within the vast, dark expanse of his sea of consciousness, the ethereal, nine-petaled Immortal Lotus rotated lazily, emitting its soft, transcendent azure light. It was a beacon of absolute security. The damage from his predecessor's catastrophic Qi deviation was entirely gone, the meridians smoothed and fortified, pulsing with the gentle, wood-attribute spiritual energy of the *Evergreen Qi Art*.
"A new day," Lu Yuan murmured, swinging his legs off the bed. "A new day in an endless string of days."
His stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl, reminding him of his mortal needs. While he possessed an endless lifespan, he had not achieved the realm of Inedia—the ability to abstain from mortal food and subsist entirely on spiritual energy. That was a feat reserved for Foundation Establishment cultivators and above. As a lowly second-level Qi Condensation cultivator, if he didn't eat, he would starve. If his body died of starvation, his endless lifespan would be a moot point.
Lu Yuan walked over to the corner of the room where he had hung the carcass of the Shadow Rat he had decapitated the night before. The meat was a deep, rich crimson, marbled with faint lines of grayish fat that contained the creature's residual demonic Qi.
He took a small cleaver, practically a rusty iron slab, and expertly butchered the rat into small, manageable chunks. He didn't dare cook the whole thing at once; a Level 1 demonic beast contained too much wild energy for his frail meridians to process in a single sitting.
He moved to the stone hearth. With a flick of his wrist and a small drain on his Dantian, he cast the *Fireball Spell*.
*Ding.*
**[Fireball Spell proficiency +1]**
A wobbly orange flame ignited the dry kindling. He placed an iron wok over the fire, added a small dollop of ordinary animal fat, and tossed in the rat meat along with a handful of wild scallions he had foraged. The sizzling sound filled the small hut, accompanied by a rich, deeply savory aroma that made Lu Yuan's mouth water violently.
Demonic beast meat was a luxury for low-level independent cultivators. It was far more nutritious than ordinary livestock, packed with raw vitality that could strengthen the physical body.
He added two scoops of his precious Azure Spirit Rice and some fresh spring water, covering the wok to let it simmer into a thick, hearty congee.
Twenty minutes later, Lu Yuan sat on his wooden stool outside the hut, watching the sun crest the distant, misty peaks of the Flowing Water Sect as he took his first bite.
The flavor was explosive. The rat meat was slightly tough, requiring vigorous chewing, but it was incredibly savory, with a wild, gamey undertone. As the hot congee slid down his throat, he immediately felt a wave of heat erupt in his stomach.
It wasn't the gentle, soothing warmth of the Azure Spirit Rice. This was chaotic, aggressive energy—the lingering demonic nature of the Shadow Rat.
Lu Yuan immediately set the bowl down and crossed his legs on the ground. He formed the hand seals for the *Evergreen Qi Art*, his breathing falling into a specific, rhythmic pattern: three short inhales, one long exhale.
He visualized his Dantian as a gentle whirlpool, drawing the chaotic heat from his stomach into his meridian network. The wild energy fought back, causing a slight stinging sensation in his veins, but the *Evergreen Qi Art*, despite being slow and lacking offensive power, was incredibly stable and neutralizing. Like a slow-moving river smoothing out rough stones, his cultivation method ground down the violent demonic Qi, purifying it into a tiny trickle of gentle, wood-attribute spiritual energy that settled securely in his Dantian.
He opened his eyes, exhaling a puff of grayish air—the impurities of the meat.
*Ding.*
**[Cultivation: Qi Condensation Level 2 (13/100)]**
**[Evergreen Qi Art proficiency +2]**
Lu Yuan blinked in pleasant surprise. Refining the demonic meat had yielded a full point of cultivation progress and double the proficiency for his technique. It was a tangible, immediate reward.
"Wealth dictates the path of cultivation," Lu Yuan sighed, finishing the rest of his bowl. "If I could eat spirit beast meat every day, I'd reach the third level of Qi Condensation in a matter of months instead of years. But buying this meat at the market would cost half a spirit stone a pound. I can't afford that."
He washed his bowl and began his morning chores.
The two acres of Azure Spirit Rice awaited him. He walked the perimeter, his eyes scanning for any signs of pests or disease. Finding none, he raised his hand toward the sky.
*"Spring Breeze and Rain Spell."*
The familiar dark cloud coalesced, dropping glowing blue rain over the crops. He maintained the spell until his Dantian was half-empty, feeling the familiar strain in his mind.
*Ding.*
**[Spring Breeze and Rain Spell proficiency +1]**
He followed it up with the *Earth Turning Art*, loosening the soil around the roots of the rice stalks.
*Ding.*
**[Earth Turning Art proficiency +1]**
By the time he finished, the sun was fully in the sky, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He fed his three Black-Feathered Spirit Chickens, pleased to find a single, pale blue egg resting in the straw. He carefully placed the spirit egg in his storage pouch—a low-grade, worn-out leather bag that held a mere three cubic feet of space, practically the entirety of his net worth.
"Chores are done. Time to head to the market," Lu Yuan decided.
He went back inside and retrieved his hidden stash of wealth. It was buried under a loose floorboard beneath his bed. He pulled out a small, heavy cloth sack. Opening it, he counted the contents with a mix of reverence and profound depression.
Twelve low-grade spirit stones.
They were roughly the size of a thumb, semi-translucent, and glowed with a faint, milky white light. This was the universal currency of the cultivation world, containing pure, unaligned spiritual energy that cultivators could absorb directly to speed up their practice or use to power arrays and artifacts.
Twelve stones. And his rent, due in three weeks, was ten stones.
"I have exactly two spirit stones of disposable income," Lu Yuan muttered, tying the sack securely to the inside of his belt. "I am painfully, horribly poor. If I want to start talisman crafting, this is going to be incredibly tight."
He stepped out of his hut, locked the flimsy wooden door—more of a polite suggestion than a security measure—and began the three-mile trek toward the Clear Breeze Valley Market.
The path wound through rolling green hills, dotted with the identical thatched huts of other tenant farmers. The scenery was undeniably breathtaking. On Earth, people would pay thousands of dollars to vacation in a place with air this crisp, with grass this vibrant, and with ancient, towering pine trees that seemed to brush the clouds.
But there was an underlying tension that ruined the idyllic landscape.
As Lu Yuan walked, he passed other rogue cultivators. They did not smile. They did not wave. They hurried along the dirt path with their heads down, their eyes darting suspiciously at anyone who came too close. Most wore robes of cheap gray or brown hemp, stained with dirt and sweat. Their faces were etched with the deep lines of stress, paranoia, and the desperate hunger for resources.
"Brother Lu!"
Lu Yuan paused and turned, adopting a polite, harmless smile. Jogging toward him was a chubby young man in slightly better clothing—a faded blue cotton robe. It was Fatty Wang, a neighbor who farmed three acres of spirit wheat over the next hill. He was at the third level of Qi Condensation and possessed a decent earth-attribute spiritual root.
"Brother Wang," Lu Yuan greeted, bowing slightly, ensuring his posture conveyed deference. "Heading to the market as well?"
"Indeed, indeed," Fatty Wang puffed, wiping sweat from his double chin. "Harvest is coming up. I need to buy some *Spirit Repelling Powder*. Found some traces of Iron-Headed Centipedes near my fields. Nasty buggers. If they get into the wheat roots, I'm ruined."
Wang looked Lu Yuan up and down, his eyes lingering on Lu Yuan's pale, but noticeably healthier complexion. "You look... better, Brother Lu. I heard about your Qi deviation. Widow Zhang said you were half a step into the ghost gate."
"I was fortunate," Lu Yuan replied smoothly. "My ancestors must have been watching over me. I managed to stabilize my breath at the last second. But it damaged my foundation. I fear my cultivation will not progress for a very long time."
Fatty Wang sighed, shaking his head sympathetically. "A harsh fate. But surviving is a blessing in itself. We independent cultivators are like duckweed in a storm. One bad harvest, one rogue demonic beast, and our path to immortality is cut short."
"Brother Wang's words contain profound truth," Lu Yuan agreed, playing the part of the humbled, defeated cultivator perfectly. In reality, he felt no despair. His foundation was perfect, his lifespan infinite. But letting others know he had recovered fully would invite suspicion. Weakness was the best camouflage in a forest of predators.
They walked the rest of the way together in relative silence. As they crested a large ridge, the Clear Breeze Valley Market came into view.
It was less a town and more a sprawling, chaotic encampment built at the mouth of a wide canyon. Hundreds of wooden stalls, tents, and hastily constructed stone pavilions were crammed together, forming a labyrinth of narrow, muddy streets.
Above the market, a faint, shimmering dome of light pulsed rhythmically—a large-scale defensive array operated by the Flowing Water Sect. The sect provided the land and the security, and in return, they taxed every transaction, every stall, and every breath taken within the market's boundaries.
As they approached the main gate, two guards clad in the pristine, flowing white robes of the Flowing Water Sect stood lazily by the entrance. They were outer sect disciples, both at the sixth level of Qi Condensation. To Lu Yuan, their auras felt like towering infernos compared to his own flickering candle.
"Toll," one of the guards sneered, holding out a jade token.
Fatty Wang immediately bowed, pulling out two dull, irregularly shaped rocks that emanated a very faint spiritual aura. They were spirit stone fragments. Ten fragments made one whole low-grade spirit stone.
Lu Yuan followed suit, handing over his fragment. It physically pained him to part with a tenth of his disposable income just to walk through a gate, but he kept his face completely blank.
The guard didn't even look at them, waving them through with a look of utter boredom.
Once inside, the sheer volume of noise and smell assaulted Lu Yuan's senses. The air was a chaotic mix of roasting meats, pungent alchemical herbs, metallic tang from the smithies, and the unwashed bodies of desperate cultivators.
"Come take a look! Hundred-year-old Blood Ginseng! Guaranteed to increase your vitality and break through your bottlenecks! Only fifty spirit stones!" a haggard man yelled from a rag on the ground. Lu Yuan glanced at the 'ginseng'—it was a slightly mutated radish smeared with spirit beast blood. A classic scam.
"High-grade flying swords! Forged from deep-sea cold iron! Will slice through a Level 3 demonic beast like tofu! Special discount today!" an imposing man with a bare, muscular chest roared over the din of a hammering anvil.
Lu Yuan parted ways with Fatty Wang, blending into the crowd like a drop of water in the ocean. He kept his hands tucked into his sleeves, his right hand resting firmly on the *Wind Blade* talisman he didn't have yet, mentally preparing himself to cast the spell at a moment's notice.
His destination was the 'Myriad Treasures Pavilion,' the largest and most reputable merchant conglomerate in the Azure Cloud Realm. Even this tiny branch in a backwater market was an impressive three-story building constructed from fragrant spirit wood, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding squalor.
Lu Yuan stepped through the open doors, leaving the chaotic noise of the street behind. The interior was quiet, cool, and smelled of high-grade calming incense. Neatly arranged glass display cases held pills, artifacts, and arrays that Lu Yuan couldn't even dream of affording.
A young female attendant, wearing a neat green dress and radiating the aura of a fourth-level Qi Condensation cultivator, approached him. Her smile was perfectly polite, but her eyes carried the subtle, ingrained arrogance of someone who worked for a massive power.
"Welcome to the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, esteemed customer. How may I assist you today?" she asked, her tone entirely professional.
Lu Yuan bowed respectfully. "Greetings, Senior. I am looking to purchase beginner supplies for talisman crafting. Specifically, a brush, ink, paper, and a basic manual."
The attendant's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her gaze flicking over his cheap hemp robes and sensing his pitiful Level 2 cultivation. Beginner talisman crafters were a dime a dozen, and ninety-nine percent of them went bankrupt within a month.
"Certainly," she said smoothly, gesturing toward a counter in the corner of the room. "Please follow me."
She led him to a display case filled with brushes of various sizes and stacks of yellow paper.
"For a beginner," the attendant began, pointing gracefully to the items, "we recommend the Grey Wolf Hair Brush. It has decent spiritual conductivity, suitable for basic runic strokes. That is one low-grade spirit stone. For ink, we have standard Low-Grade Cinnabar mixed with Level 1 Iron-Skin Boar blood. A small jar is half a spirit stone. As for the paper, Yellow Spirit Grass Paper is the industry standard for practice. One bundle contains one hundred sheets, priced at half a spirit stone."
Lu Yuan did the math in his head. That was exactly two spirit stones. His entire disposable budget.
"And a manual?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Ah," the attendant said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a thin, cheaply bound booklet. "This is the *Introduction to Basic Runic Paths*. It contains the diagrams and spiritual circulation methods for three basic talismans: The Cleansing Talisman, the Light Talisman, and the Fireball Talisman. It costs one spirit stone."
Lu Yuan's heart sank. Total cost: three spirit stones. He was short by one. He had the rent money, of course, but touching that was a death sentence. If he couldn't pay his rent, the landlord—a ruthless inner sect disciple of the Flowing Water Sect—would confiscate his fields, his chickens, and likely cripple his cultivation as a penalty.
He could wait. He could go home, sell the spirit egg, harvest his vegetables over the next few weeks, and save up. He had an endless lifespan. Patience was his greatest weapon.
But looking at the brush and the manual, a stubborn flame ignited in his chest. He wanted to start *now*. Every day he delayed was a day of missed proficiency.
He reached into his sleeve, hesitating. Was it worth the risk?
"I apologize, Senior," Lu Yuan said softly, his head lowered. "I am... slightly short on funds. I will purchase the brush, the ink, and the paper today. I will return for the manual when my circumstances improve."
The attendant's eyes flashed with a hint of disdain, but she maintained her professional facade. "As you wish. That will be two low-grade spirit stones."
Lu Yuan slowly, painfully pulled out two of his precious, glowing stones and handed them over. The attendant bagged his items in a simple cloth sack.
"Thank you for your patronage," she said mechanically, already turning her attention to a wealthier-looking cultivator who had just walked in.
Lu Yuan walked out of the Pavilion, his coin pouch alarmingly light, but a heavy, purposeful determination settling in his chest. He had the tools. He didn't have the manual, but he had something else.
He had the memories of the original Lu Yuan. The original host had never practiced talisman crafting, but he had spent years watching other cultivators. He had a vague, hazy memory of seeing a local talisman maker draw the basic rune for a *Fireball Talisman*. It was an incredibly complex, jagged sigil, and the memory was fuzzy at best.
Without a manual detailing the exact flow of spiritual energy required for the strokes, his failure rate would be astronomical. Trying to reverse-engineer a talisman from a hazy memory was considered absolute lunacy in the cultivation world. It was a guaranteed way to waste expensive ink and paper.
"But I have the proficiency panel," Lu Yuan thought, his eyes narrowing as he navigated the crowded market streets. "The panel records my progress regardless of success or failure. I don't need a manual to tell me how to do it perfectly on the first try. I just need to attempt it. The system will forcibly correct my path through sheer repetition."
He just needed to grind it out.
Feeling a surge of confidence, Lu Yuan navigated his way toward the exit of the market. He wanted to get back to his hut and begin immediately.
He turned down a narrow, relatively quiet alleyway between two towering merchant stalls to take a shortcut to the main gate. The air here was damp, smelling of rotting vegetables and stale urine.
Halfway down the alley, his path was blocked.
Three men stood lounging against the wooden walls. They wore matching gray robes with a crude tiger head stitched onto the shoulder. The Black Tiger Gang. They were a well-known local nuisance, a group of low-level thugs who preyed on independent cultivators too weak to defend themselves, but who were careful enough never to offend anyone from the major sects.
The man in the center, a tall, gaunt individual with a nasty scar running down his cheek, pushed himself off the wall. Lu Yuan's senses, honed by his absolute caution, immediately assessed the man's aura.
Qi Condensation, Level 3. The other two lackeys were Level 2.
"Well, well," the scarred man sneered, his hand resting on the hilt of a cheap iron sword strapped to his waist. "If it isn't little Lu. Heard you almost died coughing up your own lungs. Good to see you're still kicking."
Lu Yuan stopped ten paces away. He kept his hands in his sleeves, his face a perfect mask of polite submission. His heart rate did not spike; his breathing remained steady, anchored by the *Evergreen Qi Art*.
"Greetings, Boss Wang," Lu Yuan said, bowing deeply. "Heaven was merciful, and I managed to survive."
Wang Lei chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "Heaven is merciful, but the Black Tiger Gang needs to eat. You're using our alley, Lu. You know the rules. Maintenance fee. One spirit stone fragment."
It was blatant extortion. The market was sect territory, but the sect guards didn't care what happened in the back alleys as long as it didn't disrupt major commerce. The Flowing Water Sect viewed independent cultivators as mere livestock; they didn't care if the livestock fought amongst themselves.
A younger, more hot-blooded transmigrator might have felt a surge of humiliating rage. They might have cursed the thugs, drawn their weapon, and fought a desperate battle for their pride and dignity, shouting about how they would exterminate the gang in thirty years.
Lu Yuan felt nothing of the sort.
He looked at Wang Lei. He saw a man who was already thirty years old, stuck at Level 3, with failing potential and a life expectancy of perhaps another forty years if he didn't get stabbed in a turf war first.
Lu Yuan had infinity. He had a proficiency panel that guaranteed he would reach the peak of the universe as long as he didn't die prematurely.
Was his pride worth risking his endless lifespan over one-tenth of a spirit stone? Was it worth fighting a Level 3 cultivator when he was only Level 2, risking a wound that could get infected or draw the attention of the guards?
*Absolutely not.*
"Of course, Boss Wang," Lu Yuan said smoothly, his voice devoid of any sarcasm or anger. "Your gang works hard to keep these alleys safe from stray beasts. It is only fair."
He reached into his pouch, pulled out a single spirit stone fragment, and tossed it gently to Wang Lei.
The thug caught it, looking slightly disappointed. Thugs like Wang Lei enjoyed the power trip of breaking a cultivator's pride just as much as the money. Lu Yuan's total capitulation robbed him of his fun.
"Smart boy," Wang Lei spat, pocketing the fragment. "Keep your head down, farmer. The world is dangerous out there."
"I will heed Boss Wang's advice," Lu Yuan bowed again, stepping carefully around the three men and exiting the alley.
He didn't look back. He didn't harbor any burning thoughts of vengeance. He simply filed the encounter away in his mind as a concrete data point: *The world is lawless. I need attack power immediately.*
He made it out of the market and walked the three miles back to his hut in silence. By the time he arrived, the sun was beginning its descent, casting long, golden shadows across his spirit fields.
He locked his door, immediately clearing his rickety wooden table of any debris. He wiped it down until it was spotless. He carefully laid out his purchases: the bundle of Yellow Spirit Grass Paper, the jar of Cinnabar ink, and the Grey Wolf Hair Brush.
He took a deep breath, settling his agitated state of mind. He spent ten minutes cycling the *Evergreen Qi Art*, ensuring his Dantian was full and his spiritual energy was perfectly calm.
Talisman crafting required three things: a steady hand, precise spiritual control, and absolute focus.
He uncorked the jar of Cinnabar. It smelled metallic, pungent, and rich with the wild energy of an Iron-Skin Boar. He dipped the tip of the Grey Wolf Hair Brush into the ink, ensuring it was evenly coated but not dripping.
He laid a single, crisp sheet of yellow paper flat on the table.
He closed his eyes, digging deep into the fragmented memories of his predecessor. He visualized the shape of the *Fireball Talisman* rune. It started with a heavy stroke at the top, zigzagging down like a lightning bolt, terminating in a complex, swirling loop that gathered the fire attribute energy.
It was a hazy, imprecise image, but it was all he had.
He opened his eyes. He channeled a thread of his wood-attribute spiritual energy down his right arm, into his fingers, and through the wooden handle of the brush. The wolf hairs glowed faintly.
He pressed the brush to the paper.
*Stroke.*
The moment the spiritually charged ink touched the paper, Lu Yuan felt a severe resistance. The paper acted like a sponge, aggressively trying to suck his spiritual energy out of his brush. He had to perfectly balance his output—too little, and the rune wouldn't hold; too much, and the paper would explode.
He dragged the brush down, attempting the zigzag pattern. His hand trembled slightly. The line was uneven, the distribution of ink inconsistent.
As he attempted the final, swirling loop, his focus wavered for a fraction of a second. His spiritual output spiked.
*Fzzt.*
The runic lines on the paper flared with an angry, chaotic red light. The conflicting energies instantly destabilized.
"Crap," Lu Yuan muttered, throwing himself backward off his stool.
*Poof!*
The yellow paper combusted, erupting into a tiny, harmless cloud of gray smoke and leaving a charred black scorch mark on his wooden table.
Silence descended on the hut. The smell of burnt paper and wasted cinnabar filled the air.
A normal cultivator would have been devastated. A sheet of paper and a dab of ink had just been incinerated, amounting to money literally going up in smoke with absolutely zero return. Without a master to point out his mistake, or a manual to correct his path, he could fail a hundred times in a row and learn nothing.
But Lu Yuan wasn't a normal cultivator.
He sat up from the floor, coughing slightly, and looked straight ahead.
*Ding.*
**[Talisman Crafting proficiency +1]**
**[Profession Unlocked: Talisman Crafting (Novice: 1/100)]**
**[Basic Fireball Talisman proficiency +1]**
**[Recipe Unlocked: Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 1/100)]**
A massive, unrestrained grin broke across Lu Yuan's face, his eyes shining with absolute triumph in the dimming light of his hut.
It worked. The system didn't care about the result. It only cared about the action.
When the prompt appeared, a tiny, almost imperceptible sliver of knowledge was injected directly into his brain. He suddenly understood *why* the paper had burned. He had pushed too much energy into the final loop, failing to cap the flow of the rune, causing the fiery energy to leak and ignite the paper.
He didn't need a manual. The proficiency panel was his manual. Every failure bought him a piece of absolute, irrefutable knowledge.
"Again," Lu Yuan whispered, his eyes burning with fanatic zeal.
He placed a fresh sheet of paper on the table. He dipped his brush. He focused his mind, his hand slightly steadier this time, adjusting for the mistake the system had highlighted.
He drew the rune.
*Poof.*
Another burst of smoke. Another charred mark.
*Ding.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman proficiency +1]**
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 2/100)]**
Another micro-adjustment downloaded into his muscle memory. His stroke had been too thin at the apex of the zigzag.
"Again."
*Poof.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 3/100)]**
"Again."
*Poof.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 4/100)]**
For the next three hours, the small hut was filled with the rhythmic sound of a brush hitting paper, followed invariably by a soft *poof* of ignition and a curse.
Lu Yuan fell into a trance. He ignored the aching in his wrist. He ignored the rapid depletion of his spiritual energy. He was caught in the intoxicating, addictive loop of quantifiable progress. In his past life, he had spent thousands of hours grinding in video games just to see a progress bar move. Now, he was doing it in real life, with magic.
By the time the moon was high in the sky, casting silver beams through his window, Lu Yuan's hand finally dropped.
He was completely dry. His Dantian was an empty, echoing void. He was sweating profusely, his head pounding with the telltale signs of spiritual exhaustion.
He looked at the table. He had burned through forty sheets of Yellow Spirit Grass paper. Almost half his supply.
He had not produced a single successful talisman.
But he wasn't disheartened. He called up his panel.
**[Name]: Lu Yuan**
**[Lifespan]: 18 / ∞**
**[Cultivation]: Qi Condensation Level 2 (13/100)**
**[Cultivation Method]: Evergreen Qi Art (Initiate: 47/100)**
**[Professions]:**
**- Talisman Crafting (Novice: 40/100)**
**[Talismans]:**
**- Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 40/100)**
He was nearly halfway to the next tier of mastery. The last few attempts hadn't burned up immediately; they had held their glow for several seconds before destabilizing. He could feel it in his bones—he was incredibly close to finding the perfect balance.
Lu Yuan wiped his ink-stained hands on a rag, a bone-deep weariness settling over him, countered entirely by a sense of profound accomplishment.
He dragged his exhausted body to the bed and forced himself into a meditative lotus position. He didn't sleep. Sleep was for mortals. Cultivators rested by cycling their Qi.
He initiated the *Evergreen Qi Art*. Because his Dantian was completely empty, the spiritual energy from the surrounding air rushed into his body like water filling a vacuum. The Immortal Lotus in his mind pulsed a soothing azure light, easing the headache and repairing the microscopic tears in his overstressed meridians.
As the cool, gentle energy slowly refilled his reserves, Lu Yuan's mind drifted to Wang Lei and the Black Tiger Gang.
*Let them extort their fragments,* he thought, slipping into a deep meditative trance. *Let the sect geniuses fight over ancient tombs. I will stay in my hut. I will farm my rice. I will burn my paper.*
*And when my Fireball Talisman hits Master level, we will see who dares to stand in my alley.*
*Ding.*
**[Evergreen Qi Art proficiency +1]**
The night deepened, and Lu Yuan's endless journey continued, one microscopic step at a time.