Morning arrived quietly over the Sovereign Aerie, pale sunlight sliding along the towering stone spires like thin ribbons of gold. The great structure—known across the sect as the Spire of the Golden Sparrow—was beginning to wake.
Yet the disciples of the Black Dragon faction looked anything but refreshed.
Inside the faction's gathering chamber, the air carried the faint heaviness of sleepless effort.
Bao Fu staggered through the doors first, scratching his head with one hand while stifling a gigantic yawn.
"By the ancestors…" he groaned, stretching his arms wide. "Cultivation manuals should come with warnings."
Chen Yuan was already leaning against one of the thick pillars lining the hall. His hair was slightly disheveled and dark circles hung under his eyes.
"You mean warnings like 'may cause sleepless nights and mental collapse'?" he muttered.
Bao Fu nodded vigorously.
"Yes! Exactly that!"
Across the hall Marco sat on a low bench, elbows on his knees. He looked calmer than the others, but even he carried the tired look of someone who had spent the night wrestling with something invisible.
Yan Mei arrived last among them, tying her hair into a loose knot while she walked.
Her eyes drifted between the others.
"You all look terrible," she said bluntly.
Chen Yuan snorted.
"You should see yourself."
She rolled her eyes.
None of them needed to say it out loud.
Yesterday they had received their cultivation techniques.
And curiosity had won.
One by one, sometime during the night, each of them had attempted to understand the mysterious art of Qi circulation.
For most of them it had ended in confusion.
For some—like Bao Fu—it had ended in frustration.
"I swear the words in that mind manual rearranged themselves," Bao Fu complained. "I read the same paragraph ten times."
"You can barely read a food menu," Chen Yuan replied lazily.
Bao Fu pointed an accusing finger at him.
"You shut up."
Their quiet bickering faded as the doors of the hall opened again.
Lu Mao stepped inside.
All eyes turned toward him immediately.
Yesterday, when he had left this hall, his expression had been troubled—burdened by the consequences of his decision.
But today…
Lu Mao looked strangely calm.
Not cheerful.
Not proud.
Just… comfortable.
As though the weight pressing on his shoulders had settled into something he could carry.
His dark eyes moved across the hall, acknowledging the others.
Bao Fu blinked.
"You look suspiciously alive for someone who ruined his cultivation future yesterday."
Lu Mao chuckled softly.
"I slept well."
That alone surprised them.
Before anyone could ask more questions, another presence approached.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Soft footsteps echoed across the hall.
A figure in flowing silver robes entered, her long silver hair moving like pale silk behind her.
Li Xian.
Her presence was quiet, but it filled the room like cold moonlight.
The disciples immediately straightened.
Her sharp gaze passed over them.
Then her voice rang out across the hall.
"As expected."
She folded her arms behind her back.
"Everyone is on time."
One by one they bowed respectfully.
"Greetings, Senior Sister Li Xian."
Chen Yuan.
Bao Fu.
Marco.
Yan Mei.
Lu Mao.
Their voices overlapped in unison.
Li Xian studied them for a brief moment.
Then something unexpected happened.
She stepped forward.
And bowed.
Not a small nod.
A genuine bow.
The disciples froze.
Even Chen Yuan's lazy expression vanished.
Li Xian spoke calmly.
"Before we begin today's discussion… I would like to apologize."
Her words echoed across the chamber.
"On behalf of myself… and on behalf of the Black Dragon faction."
The silence deepened.
Li Xian's gaze remained steady.
"You are all newly accepted outer sect disciples of this faction. Attention of the kind you received yesterday is of no benefit to you."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"The Black Dragon faction once held great prestige within this sect. But certain unpleasant events in recent years have tarnished that reputation."
A faint shadow passed through her eyes.
"That burden should never have fallen upon new disciples like yourselves."
She bowed her head slightly.
"And yet… it did."
Her voice softened.
"For that… I apologize sincerely."
The hall remained silent.
Lu Mao felt something stir inside his chest.
A senior disciple bowing to new outer sect members…
It was unheard of.
Slowly, he stepped forward and returned the bow.
"You shouldn't worry about my actions, Senior Sister."
Li Xian looked up.
Lu Mao's voice was calm.
"It was my decision to speak."
His gaze remained steady.
"My father… who was also my master… always taught me one thing."
He paused briefly.
"A cultivator should never have cold feet when facing something they believe is wrong."
The others listened quietly.
"The first duty of a cultivator is to remain honest with their own conscience. If something does not sit right in one's heart… it must be spoken."
His voice became firmer.
"Silence and lies are the first steps toward defeat."
He bowed again.
"I will face whatever consequences my choices bring. You do not need to apologize for them."
For a moment Li Xian simply watched him.
Then Marco spoke up from behind.
"He's right."
He crossed his arms.
"What happened yesterday was wrong from the beginning."
Marco gave Lu Mao a firm nod.
"I support Brother Lu Mao."
Bao Fu suddenly slapped his palm against his knee.
"Exactly!"
He jumped to his feet energetically.
"Someone had to speak against those atrocious bastards!"
He leaned closer to the group, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Maybe I should plant some curse talismans on them."
Yan Mei blinked.
"You can do that?"
Bao Fu cleared his throat dramatically.
"Of course."
He puffed out his chest.
"Try not to get on my bad side."
Chen Yuan burst out laughing.
"Curse talismans my foot."
He pointed at Bao Fu.
"I've known you since we were children. The only curse you possess is your endless appetite."
He gestured toward Bao Fu's stomach.
"This man is cursed by his own fat."
The hall exploded with laughter.
Bao Fu sputtered in outrage.
"You traitor!"
Even Lu Mao couldn't help laughing.
The tension from yesterday dissolved like mist under sunlight.
Li Xian watched the scene quietly.
Then she raised her hand.
The room gradually settled.
"Now," she said calmly, "returning to our discussion."
Her eyes turned toward Lu Mao again.
"Before I guide you in your next tasks… there is something I wish to address."
She spoke directly.
"Yesterday you made a decision that surprised everyone."
Her tone was not accusing.
Only curious.
"You chose the Eight Gate Circulation Method."
The others shifted slightly.
That topic had been on everyone's mind.
Li Xian continued.
"You refused the Dantian Spiral Condensation Technique."
She studied him carefully.
"I will not ask your reason."
A pause.
"But I will ask something else."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"Will you regret this choice?"
The hall became quiet again.
Lu Mao stood calmly under her gaze.
"I appreciate everyone's concern."
His voice was steady.
"But I chose that technique for a reason."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"One I would prefer not to discuss."
Bao Fu groaned loudly.
"Oh come on—"
Lu Mao raised a hand gently.
"I simply believe the Eight Gate method may suit my growth better."
He looked around at them.
"And I believe… I can do well with it."
He bowed slightly.
"I hope you can trust me."
Bao Fu let out a huge sigh of relief.
"And here I thought you were regretting it!"
He clapped Lu Mao on the shoulder.
"I might not trust Chen Yuan with my lunch…"
Chen Yuan immediately barked.
"Shut up, you fat pig."
"…but if it's Brother Lu Mao," Bao Fu continued proudly, ignoring him, "I trust you with my eyes closed."
Yan Mei stepped forward next.
Her expression softened.
"You scared me yesterday," she admitted quietly.
"When I saw your face…"
Lu Mao smiled reassuringly.
Marco joined them.
Chen Yuan too.
For a moment the group gathered around him.
An unspoken message passing between them.
You're not alone.
Li Xian watched the moment.
Then she spoke again.
"Enough."
Her voice wasn't harsh—but it carried authority.
"If you are done with emotional support…"
She gestured for them to refocus.
"Let us move on."
The disciples straightened.
"Before you begin taking missions for the sect, you must complete an important stage of training."
She continued.
"For the next two weeks… no disciple from any faction is allowed to accept missions."
Chen Yuan frowned slightly.
"None?"
Li Xian nodded.
"All disciples must focus entirely on mastering their Qi circulation techniques."
Her voice became slightly more serious.
"There is also a requirement."
She paused.
"Before accepting missions from the Mandate Hall, a disciple must reach the first level of cultivation."
Bao Fu blinked.
"You mean—"
"Spirit Apprentice."
The title hung in the air.
"If you fail to reach Spirit Apprentice… you will not be allowed to participate in missions."
The room fell silent again.
Two weeks.
That was not a long time.
"For the next fourteen days," Li Xian continued, "you will devote yourselves entirely to cultivation."
Her gaze softened slightly.
"I will guide you during this time and help accelerate your understanding."
She clasped her hands behind her back.
"But today…"
Her eyes swept across them.
"You must begin by understanding your techniques yourselves."
The disciples nodded.
"Do you all understand?"
They bowed together.
"Yes, Senior Sister."
Li Xian gave a small nod.
"Good."
She turned toward the exit.
"Return to your quarters."
Her final instruction echoed through the hall.
"Tomorrow… your real training begins."
Lu Mao returned to his room in the quiet hours of the afternoon.
The room was small.
Simple.
Bare.
An empty wooden shelf leaned against one wall.
A plain table stood nearby.
On top of it lay his daggers and a few pieces of gear.
Beside the table rested a thin mattress.
And a single oil lamp.
Nothing more.
But Lu Mao looked around the room calmly.
For now…
It was enough.
What he needed wasn't luxury.
What he needed… was Qi.
He sat cross-legged on the floor.
The outside world slowly faded.
The elders.
The challenges ahead.
The expectations.
All of it drifted away.
Only his breathing remained.
Lu Mao closed his eyes.
Inside his mind he whispered a single phrase.
Eight Gate Circulation.
The moment the name formed in his thoughts—
Something awakened.
Like a memory carved directly into his bones.
The instructions appeared naturally within his mind.
He understood what he needed to do.
First—
Sense the Qi within his body.
Lu Mao slowed his breathing further.
Gradually… faint threads of warmth appeared in his awareness.
Tiny currents flowing quietly through his meridians.
This was Qi.
Weak.
Scattered.
But real.
Next came the difficult part.
He needed to gather those scattered threads…
And guide them through a precise pattern across his meridian network.
The Eight Gate pattern.
He began carefully.
But almost immediately—
The Qi scattered.
The flow collapsed.
Lu Mao opened his eyes slightly.
"That fast…"
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Hours passed.
The difficulty of the technique became painfully clear.
Gathering the Qi was only the first step.
Once gathered, it had to move through dozens of meridian channels in an exact order.
The process required perfect timing.
Perfect control.
If even a single thread of Qi slipped out of place…
The entire circulation failed.
It was like trying to thread one hundred silk strands through one hundred needle holes in a single breath.
And if you missed even one—
You had to start over.
Lu Mao wiped the sweat from his forehead.
His concentration was beginning to strain.
But something else troubled him more.
His body resisted the technique.
The Eight Gate circulation pattern felt completely unnatural.
As a thief cultivator…
His instincts favored flexible, flowing movements.
Light.
Fast.
Adaptive.
But the Eight Gates demanded something entirely different.
Rigid control.
Exact structure.
Precise timing.
It felt like forcing a river to flow uphill.
Every attempt drained him.
His muscles tightened.
His breathing became uneven.
After several more attempts his body trembled with fatigue.
Most disciples would stop.
Rest.
Try again tomorrow.
But Lu Mao didn't.
He closed his eyes again.
Gather the Qi.
Guide it through the meridians.
Follow the pattern.
Failure.
Again.
Failure.
Again.
The hours crawled by.
Sweat soaked his clothes.
His breathing grew heavier.
Compared to the others…
His path was far harder.
Other disciples struggled to gather Qi.
But once gathered, their circulation patterns flowed smoothly.
For them cultivation was like learning to swim in calm water.
For Lu Mao…
It was like being thrown into a raging storm.
A tsunami of chaotic waves crashing against him again and again.
Yet he refused to stop.
Because he understood something important.
If he could not control the Qi inside his body…
How could he ever hope to control the world outside?
The answer was simple.
He couldn't.
So he continued.
Again.
And again.
Even as exhaustion crept deeper into his bones.
Even as his vision blurred slightly.
Even as the night began to fall outside his window.
Lu Mao did not stop.
Not until the Eight Gates finally bent to his will.
And so—
The long battle between a stubborn cultivator and an unforgiving technique continued deep into the night.