**Chapter 3: The Scent of Cinnabar and the First Perfect Rune**
The transition from night to dawn in the Azure Cloud Realm was a quiet, sacred affair. The dense spiritual mist that settled over the Clear Breeze Valley during the night slowly began to thin, retreating to the higher altitudes of the Flowing Water Sect's towering peaks.
Inside the small, unassuming thatched hut, Lu Yuan sat cross-legged on his hard wooden bed. His chest rose and fell in a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm. The *Evergreen Qi Art* circulated tirelessly through his meridians, a gentle, meandering stream of wood-attribute energy that carried away the extreme fatigue of the previous day's talisman crafting.
As the first ray of golden sunlight pierced through the cracks in the bamboo window shutters, Lu Yuan opened his eyes. They were clear, bright, and completely devoid of the bloodshot exhaustion that normally plagued a cultivator who had drained their Dantian to the absolute dregs.
He exhaled a long, measured breath. The stale air left his lungs, taking with it the last remnants of the night's weariness.
Deep within his sea of consciousness, the nine-petaled Immortal Lotus pulsed softly. Its azure light was a constant, comforting presence, a divine anchor tethering him to the mortal plane. The sheer restorative power of the lotus was terrifying. Normal cultivators who drained their spiritual energy entirely risked damaging their Dao foundation, causing micro-fissures in their Dantian that could take months of expensive pill consumption to heal.
Lu Yuan had drained himself dry last night, yet he woke up feeling as though he had bathed in a spring of pure vitality.
"Endless lifespan, absolute regeneration," he murmured, a faint, satisfied smile touching his lips. "It truly is the ultimate foundation."
He called up his transparent blue panel with a mere thought.
**[Name]: Lu Yuan**
**[Lifespan]: 18 / ∞**
**[Cultivation]: Qi Condensation Level 2 (14/100)**
**[Cultivation Method]: Evergreen Qi Art (Initiate: 52/100)**
**[Spells]:**
**- Spring Breeze and Rain Spell (Initiate: 81/100)**
**- Earth Turning Art (Initiate: 66/100)**
**- Fireball Spell (Novice: 14/100)**
**- Golden Shield Spell (Novice: 18/100)**
**- Wind Blade Spell (Novice: 46/100)**
**[Professions]:**
**- Talisman Crafting (Novice: 40/100)**
**[Talismans]:**
**- Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 40/100)**
His cultivation had ticked up by a single point overnight, and his *Evergreen Qi Art* had gained five points of proficiency from the intense, uninterrupted recovery session. The numbers were small, but they were permanent. They represented an ironclad guarantee that his efforts would never betray him.
His stomach rumbled, breaking the serene silence of the morning.
Lu Yuan rose from the bed and stretched, his joints popping satisfyingly. He moved to the hearth, flicking a *Fireball Spell* into the kindling. He watched the proficiency tick up by one. Every action, no matter how mundane, was a step forward.
For breakfast, he decided to treat himself. He took the pale blue spirit egg he had collected the previous day from his Black-Feathered Spirit Chickens. He boiled it in a small clay pot filled with fresh spring water, adding a pinch of coarse sea salt and some wild mountain herbs. Alongside it, he cooked a modest bowl of Azure Spirit Rice porridge.
When he cracked the shell of the spirit egg, a delicate, fragrant steam billowed out. The egg white was slightly translucent, shimmering like a pearl, and the yolk was a deep, vibrant orange that practically glowed with contained vitality.
He took a bite. The texture was incredibly smooth, melting on his tongue. Unlike the violent, chaotic heat of the Shadow Rat meat, the spiritual energy within the egg was incredibly docile and pure. It flowed into his stomach and immediately diffused into his bloodstream like a warm, comforting blanket.
He ate the egg and the porridge slowly, savoring every mouthful. He closed his eyes, guiding the gentle energy into his Dantian using the *Evergreen Qi Art*.
*Ding.*
**[Cultivation: Qi Condensation Level 2 (15/100)]**
"A spirit egg yields the same cultivation progress as the demonic rat meat, but without the impurities or the risk of internal damage," Lu Yuan noted, his eyes opening. "No wonder high-level cultivators keep massive spirit beast farms. If I could eat three of these a day, I'd break through to Level 3 in a matter of months."
He washed his bowls and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The Azure Cloud Realm was beautiful, an untouched, pristine wilderness that stretched as far as the eye could see.
His two acres of Azure Spirit Rice rustled in the morning breeze. The stalks were growing taller, their green hue deepening. They were entering the crucial 'heading' stage, where the spiritual grains began to form at the top of the stalks. The demand for spiritual water during this period was immense.
Lu Yuan walked to the edge of the field, his expression turning serious. He formed the necessary hand seals, his fingers moving with a fluidity born of repeated practice.
*"Spring Breeze and Rain Spell."*
The spiritual cloud formed overhead, larger and darker than before, a testament to his high 'Initiate' proficiency in the spell. The glowing blue rain fell, soaking into the rich earth. Lu Yuan closed his eyes, feeling the intricate connection between his Qi, the water vapor in the air, and the thirsty roots of the spirit rice. He maintained the downpour for fifteen minutes until a dull ache began to throb behind his eyes, signaling the depletion of his spiritual reserves.
*Ding.*
**[Spring Breeze and Rain Spell proficiency +2]**
He panted softly, wiping his brow. He followed it up with the *Earth Turning Art*, churning the soil to aerate the roots, draining the last dregs of his Dantian.
Just as he finished, a voice called out from the dirt path bordering his property.
"Working hard early in the morning, Xiao Lu?"
Lu Yuan turned, plastering a polite, humble smile on his face. Walking down the path was Widow Zhang. She was a woman in her early forties, though cultivation kept her looking much younger. She wore a neat, modest gray dress and carried a woven basket over her arm. Widow Zhang was a Level 3 Qi Condensation cultivator who made her living cultivating Spirit Silkworms, weaving low-grade defensive robes for the market.
"Auntie Zhang," Lu Yuan greeted, bowing deeply. "The spirit rice waits for no man. If I slack off now, the harvest will be poor, and I won't be able to look Landlord Ma in the eye."
Widow Zhang sighed, a look of genuine sympathy crossing her face. She was one of the few independent cultivators in the Clear Breeze Valley who retained a shred of human warmth. "Landlord Ma... that bloodsucker. He raised the rent on the southern fields again yesterday. Two of the tenant farmers packed up and left in the middle of the night. Said they'd rather take their chances joining a mercenary caravan heading to the Crimson Waste than starve to death farming for the Flowing Water Sect."
Lu Yuan's eyes widened in feigned shock. "Leaving the valley? But the Crimson Waste is crawling with mid-tier demonic beasts! That is practically a death sentence for Qi Condensation cultivators."
"Desperation drives men to madness, Xiao Lu," Widow Zhang said softly, looking around cautiously before leaning in closer. "And it's not just the rent. Have you heard the rumors? The Black Tiger Gang has been clashing with the Iron Blood Brotherhood over control of the eastern alleyways in the market. Two nights ago, a dozen men were found dead, their blood drained entirely. Some say the Iron Blood Brotherhood has recruited a demonic cultivator."
Lu Yuan's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his terrified, weak facade. A demonic cultivator? Those were lunatics who practiced forbidden arts, using human blood, souls, or corpses to rapidly advance their cultivation. They were universally hunted by the righteous sects, but they were incredibly dangerous.
"A demonic cultivator?" Lu Yuan whispered, taking a step back as if frightened by the mere words. "Auntie Zhang, surely the Flowing Water Sect will intervene? They cannot allow such evil in their territory."
Widow Zhang scoffed bitterly. "The sect? Those high and mighty immortals don't care what happens to the ants beneath their feet. As long as the market taxes are paid and the demonic cultivator doesn't attack an inner sect disciple, the Flowing Water Sect won't lift a finger. They view it as a 'natural culling' of the weak."
She patted Lu Yuan's shoulder gently. "Keep your head down, Xiao Lu. You just recovered from your Qi deviation. Don't go wandering around the market at night. Stay on your farm, lock your doors, and pray to the heavens that trouble doesn't find you."
"I will heed your words, Auntie Zhang. Thank you for the warning," Lu Yuan bowed again, the picture of a frightened, obedient junior.
Widow Zhang nodded and continued down the path, her basket swinging lightly.
Lu Yuan watched her go, the polite smile vanishing from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating neutrality.
A demonic cultivator. Gang wars. Desperate farmers turning to mercenary work. The Azure Cloud Realm was a powder keg, and the independent cultivators were the kindling.
"A gentleman does not stand under a crumbling wall," Lu Yuan recited silently. "But if the wall is collapsing everywhere, the only solution is to make sure your head is harder than the bricks."
He turned and strode back into his hut. He didn't have time to waste. His crops were watered, his chickens were fed, and his social obligations were fulfilled. It was time to return to the grind.
He locked the flimsy wooden door and slid the heavy wooden crossbar into place. It wouldn't stop a determined cultivator, but it would buy him a few seconds of warning.
He sat down at his rickety wooden table. It was exactly as he had left it the night before. The jar of pungent Cinnabar ink, the Grey Wolf Hair Brush, and the stack of sixty remaining sheets of Yellow Spirit Grass Paper.
His Dantian was mostly empty from his farming chores, so he spent the next two hours meditating, cycling the *Evergreen Qi Art* until his spiritual energy was restored to its absolute peak. He needed pristine focus and a full reservoir of Qi.
He opened his eyes. The world seemed sharper. The scent of the metallic Cinnabar filled his nostrils, no longer an alien smell, but the scent of impending progress.
He placed a fresh sheet of yellow paper before him. He dipped the brush, the wolf hairs absorbing the blood-red ink.
He brought up the panel in his mind's eye.
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 40/100)]**
He channeled a precise, measured thread of wood-attribute Qi down his arm, through his fingertips, and into the brush. He remembered the forty failures from the previous night. He remembered every subtle fluctuation of energy, every microscopic waver of his wrist, every instance where he had pushed too hard or pulled too soft.
He pressed the brush to the paper.
*Stroke.*
The first line went down. The jagged, lightning-bolt shape of the Fireball rune. The spiritually charged ink hissed against the paper. Lu Yuan's hand was significantly steadier than last night. The line was crisp, the distribution of ink even.
He reached the crucial juncture—the bottom loop that required a complex twisting of spiritual energy to seal the fire attribute within the runic path.
He twisted his wrist, carefully modulating his Qi output, attempting to taper off the energy flow to close the loop.
*Fzzt.*
The runic lines flared an angry, unstable red.
*Poof!*
The paper combusted, turning into a cloud of gray smoke and a charred smudge on the table.
*Ding.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman proficiency +1]**
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Novice: 41/100)]**
Lu Yuan didn't blink. He didn't sigh. He didn't feel a shred of frustration. The system had immediately injected the reason for the failure into his mind: his Qi modulation during the twist was a fraction of a second too slow.
He swept the ash off the table, placed a new sheet down, and dipped his brush again.
*Poof.* (42/100) - Too much pressure on the downward stroke.
*Poof.* (43/100) - Insufficient Qi in the ink.
*Poof.* (44/100) - The angle of the final loop was off by two degrees.
The hours bled away. The sun climbed to its zenith, beating down on the thatched roof, heating the small hut like an oven. Lu Yuan stripped off his coarse outer robe, sweating profusely, his face smudged with soot and stray drops of red Cinnabar.
He was a machine. Draw. Burn. Learn. Repeat.
Every single failure cost him a fraction of a spirit stone. A normal cultivator would be weeping blood at the sheer financial loss, their mental state crumbling under the weight of continuous, seemingly pointless failure. But Lu Yuan possessed the most overpowered cheat in existence: guaranteed, quantifiable progression.
By mid-afternoon, his Dantian was empty again. He had burned through thirty sheets of paper. His proficiency sat at **70/100**.
He collapsed onto his bed, his arm trembling violently from muscle fatigue, his head pounding with spiritual exhaustion. He immediately fell into the lotus position, forcefully initiating the *Evergreen Qi Art*.
The Immortal Lotus flared, its azure light washing over his strained meridians, soothing the micro-tears, cooling his overheated mind. He meditated for three full hours, dragging ambient spiritual energy from the air back into his depleted core.
When he opened his eyes, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in violent hues of orange and purple.
He walked back to the table. Thirty sheets of paper remained.
"I will break through today," Lu Yuan stated to the empty room, his voice raspy but filled with absolute conviction.
He sat down. He dipped the brush.
*Poof.* (71/100)
*Poof.* (72/100)
The attempts were lasting longer now. The paper no longer combusted immediately. The runic lines would glow a deep, stable crimson for five, sometimes ten seconds before finally destabilizing and turning to ash. He was agonizingly close. He was dancing on the razor's edge of the Dao of Talismans.
*Poof.* (85/100)
*Poof.* (92/100)
*Poof.* (98/100)
His breathing was ragged. His Dantian was screaming in protest, running on fumes. He had two sheets of paper left.
He placed the second-to-last sheet on the table.
He closed his eyes. He didn't think about the rent. He didn't think about the Black Tiger Gang. He didn't think about the demonic cultivator. He emptied his mind of all mortal concerns. He visualized the *Basic Fireball Talisman* rune. It was no longer a hazy memory stolen from his predecessor. It was a searing, perfect image burned into his consciousness by ninety-eight failures.
He understood the flow. He understood the balance.
He opened his eyes. They were completely calm, devoid of anxiety.
He channeled the last dregs of his wood-attribute Qi into the Grey Wolf Hair Brush. He pressed the tip to the yellow paper.
He didn't hesitate. His hand moved with a fluid, terrifying grace.
*Stroke. Zigzag. Twist. Loop. Seal.*
He lifted the brush.
The paper did not combust.
Instead, the wet Cinnabar ink flared with a brilliant, blinding crimson light. The spiritual energy in the air rushed toward the paper, sucked into the runic lines like water down a drain. The yellow paper visibly stiffened, vibrating with contained, volatile power.
The crimson light pulsed once, twice, and then settled into a steady, ominous hum. The runic lines dried instantly, taking on the appearance of dark, solidified blood.
A profound silence filled the hut, broken only by Lu Yuan's heavy, ragged breathing.
He stared at the small, rectangular slip of yellow paper lying innocuously on his charred wooden table. It looked so simple, so mundane. Yet, he could feel the immense, explosive heat trapped within its fragile confines.
*Ding.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman proficiency +2]**
**[Breakthrough!]**
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Initiate: 100/200)]**
**[Talisman Crafting (Initiate: 100/200)]**
A massive, overwhelming flood of information slammed into his brain. The system didn't just congratulate him; it permanently etched the complete, flawless understanding of the *Basic Fireball Talisman* into his very soul. He suddenly knew the exact weight, the exact angle, the exact spiritual resonance required to draw the rune perfectly every single time.
The 'Initiate' level meant he was no longer a bumbling novice hoping for a lucky success. He had crossed the threshold. He was a true Talisman Crafter.
Lu Yuan let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob of pure relief. He slumped back in his chair, his arms dangling loosely at his sides.
"I did it," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "I actually did it."
He sat there for a long time, letting his rapidly depleting Dantian recover naturally. He didn't want to meditate right now. He just wanted to bask in the glory of his first tangible victory in this brutal world.
When the moon finally rose, casting its cold, silver light through the window, Lu Yuan stood up. He carefully, almost reverently, picked up the successful *Basic Fireball Talisman* between his index and middle fingers. It felt warm to the touch.
"Knowledge is useless without application," Lu Yuan muttered, his eyes narrowing. "I need to know exactly how much destructive power I hold in my hand."
He slipped the talisman into his sleeve, locked his door, and slipped out into the night.
He didn't head toward the market or the neighboring farms. Instead, he moved silently toward the rear of his property, where the gentle green hills gave way to a steep, rocky canyon that acted as a natural barrier to the deeper wilderness.
The night was quiet. The crickets chirped loudly, and the occasional hoot of a spirit owl echoed off the canyon walls. Lu Yuan moved with the stealth of a man who desperately wanted to remain unseen, utilizing the shadows of the towering pine trees.
He reached the canyon floor, a dry riverbed littered with massive, smooth gray boulders the size of small houses. This was perfect. No flammable vegetation, no neighbors to hear the commotion.
He stood thirty feet away from a particularly large boulder. He took a deep breath, calming his heart rate.
He drew the talisman from his sleeve.
To activate a talisman, a cultivator simply needed to inject a microscopic trace of their own Qi to destabilize the sealing rune, acting as a primer, and then throw it. The talisman would draw upon the ambient spiritual energy to execute the spell bound within it.
Lu Yuan channeled a hair-thin thread of his wood-attribute Qi into the yellow paper.
Instantly, the crimson runic lines flared to life, glowing so brightly they illuminated the dark canyon floor. Lu Yuan felt the volatile heat threatening to erupt in his hand.
He didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the talisman at the massive boulder.
The paper flew through the air, leaving a faint red trail in the darkness.
*Contact.*
For a fraction of a second, there was absolute silence.
Then, the world erupted.
**BOOM!**
A deafening roar echoed through the canyon, sounding like a clap of thunder striking the earth. A violent sphere of blazing, orange-red fire, roughly ten feet in diameter, exploded against the boulder.
The sheer concussive force of the blast hit Lu Yuan a split second later. A wave of blistering heat and a shockwave of displaced air washed over him, forcing him to take a step back and raise his arms to shield his face. The heat was intense enough to singe the ends of his hair.
He lowered his arms, his jaw dropping slightly as he stared at the aftermath.
The massive gray boulder, a solid chunk of dense granite, was obliterated. Where it had stood, there was now a deep, blackened crater. Shards of molten, glowing rock were scattered across the riverbed, hissing as they cooled in the night air. The residual heat distorted the air above the crater, creating a wavering mirage.
Lu Yuan swallowed hard, his throat dry.
He recalled his own *Fireball Spell*—the pathetic, tennis-ball-sized flame that could barely light his cooking fire.
The talisman he had just crafted was not a tool. It was a weapon of mass destruction for low-level cultivators.
"Heavens above," Lu Yuan breathed, his eyes wide. "The explosive force... that was easily equivalent to a full-power strike from a Level 4, maybe even a Level 5 Qi Condensation cultivator practicing a fire-attribute cultivation method."
A Level 2 cultivator like him could never, under any circumstances, produce that level of destructive power naturally. His meridians would explode from the sheer volume of Qi required.
But with the talisman, his cultivation level didn't matter. The talisman did the heavy lifting. The talisman held the power.
And he could make them. He had the proficiency panel. He had hit the 'Initiate' level.
Lu Yuan's mind raced, rapidly calculating the terrifying implications of his new skill.
"At the 'Initiate' level, my success rate should jump from practically zero to at least forty, maybe fifty percent," he reasoned out loud, pacing in front of the blackened crater.
"A bundle of one hundred sheets of Yellow Spirit Grass Paper costs half a spirit stone. A jar of low-grade Cinnabar costs half a spirit stone. Total investment: one low-grade spirit stone for one hundred attempts."
He did the math. "If I have a fifty percent success rate, I produce fifty *Basic Fireball Talismans* from a one-spirit-stone investment."
He knew the market prices. The Myriad Treasures Pavilion sold basic offensive talismans for a premium, usually one spirit stone apiece. If he sold them to a middleman, or to desperate independent cultivators in the alleyways, he could easily sell them in bulk—say, three talismans for one spirit stone.
"Fifty talismans divided by three... that's sixteen spirit stones of revenue," Lu Yuan concluded, his breath hitching. "Minus the one spirit stone initial cost... fifteen spirit stones of pure profit."
His rent was ten spirit stones a month.
In a single night, he had solved his financial crisis. He had secured his livelihood. He had obtained the capital to buy better cultivation pills, stronger spells, and high-grade spiritual meat to accelerate his journey.
More importantly, he had obtained a lethal deterrent.
He pictured Wang Lei, the scarred thug from the Black Tiger Gang, swaggering down the alleyway demanding a toll. Wang Lei was a Level 3 cultivator. If Lu Yuan threw five of these talismans at him simultaneously, the man wouldn't even have time to scream before he was vaporized into a fine, bloody mist.
"Power," Lu Yuan whispered, staring at his ink-stained fingers. "Real, tangible power."
A profound sense of security washed over him, deeper and more comforting than anything he had felt since crossing over into this brutal world. His endless lifespan was no longer a fragile glass vase waiting to be shattered by a random thug or a stray beast. It was a fortress, and he had just forged the cannons.
He spent another ten minutes meticulously erasing any traces of his presence in the canyon, burying the charred rock fragments and smoothing over the dirt. Caution was still his absolute priority. Paranoia was what kept you alive to enjoy your infinity.
He walked back to his hut under the starlight, his steps light, his heart soaring.
When he returned to his room, he didn't go to sleep. He took his final sheet of Yellow Spirit Grass Paper.
He sat at his table, his Dantian barely possessing enough Qi for one more attempt. But he didn't care. He wanted to solidify the muscle memory.
He dipped the brush. He breathed in. He drew.
*Stroke. Zigzag. Twist. Loop. Seal.*
A brilliant crimson light flooded the room. The rune stabilized instantly, radiating a fierce, majestic heat.
*Ding.*
**[Basic Fireball Talisman proficiency +2]**
**[Basic Fireball Talisman (Initiate: 102/200)]**
A flawless success. Two out of two at the Initiate level. His success rate might be even higher than he calculated.
He picked up the completed talisman, handling it with the utmost care, and placed it gently into his storage pouch. It was his first piece of lethal ammunition.
Exhausted, drained, but soaring on a high of absolute triumph, Lu Yuan crawled onto his wooden bed. He assumed the lotus position, closed his eyes, and initiated the *Evergreen Qi Art*.
The azure light of the Immortal Lotus pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The gentle wood-attribute energy flooded his meridians, repairing the damage, soothing his soul.
Tomorrow, he would go to the market. He would sell his first batch. He would pay his rent early. And then, he would buy a mountain of paper and ink.
The path to immortality was long, blood-soaked, and perilous. Let the geniuses fight. Let the sects war. Let the demonic cultivators plot in the shadows.
Lu Yuan would simply stay in his hut, tend to his rice, and slowly, inevitably, arm himself to the teeth.
*Ding.*
**[Evergreen Qi Art proficiency +1]**
The night embraced the Azure Cloud Realm, and the immortal farmer continued his quiet, inexorable march toward the apex.