The morning air of Wu Tan City was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of dew and the distant, chaotic symphony of a city waking up.
Leaving the quiet sanctuary of his courtyard, Yoriichi stepped out of the Xiao Clan's towering iron gates. His long hair, usually tied back, fell loosely around his black, catching the early morning light like spun copper.
His path to the hot springs took him directly through the bustling morning market.
This was the artery of the city's common folk. Stalls overflowed with vibrant spirit vegetables, freshly butchered Iron-Horned Boar meat hung from iron hooks, and the air was thick with the steam of pork buns and haggling merchants.
A month ago, if the "Silk-Pants" Xiao Ning had walked through this market, the merchants would have hidden their best goods, and the women would have pulled their daughters away, whispering curses behind their hands due to hearing of some bad rumors.
Today, the atmosphere was entirely different.
As Yoriichi walked, the bustling crowd naturally parted for him. The gazes that fell upon his stoic, scarred face were no longer filled with disgust or fear, but with a quiet, profound respect.
"Good morning, Young Master Ning," a butcher called out, offering a deep nod.
"Blessings upon you, Young Master," a woman selling woven baskets smiled warmly.
Yoriichi simply nodded in return, offering a short, calm "Good morning," his pace never breaking.
This respect had not been bought with gold; it had been earned through action. Over the past few weeks, during his walks to and from the Smithing Hall, Yoriichi had encountered the usual chaos of a frontier city.
When a pair of drunken mercenaries had drawn steel in a crowded tavern, threatening to slaughter a waiter over a spilled drink, Yoriichi had stepped in. He hadn't used Dou Qi. He had merely stepped into their guard, dislocated their wrists with terrifying precision, and walked out before the guards even arrived.
When a panicked, runaway carriage carrying heavy iron ore had careened toward a group of playing children, Yoriichi had intercepted it. He had planted his feet, channeled his Iron Fist mechanics, and stopped the charging horses dead in their tracks with his bare hands.
He didn't boast. He didn't ask for rewards. He simply resolved the chaos with absolute efficiency and left. To the commoners of Wu Tan City, he had become a silent guardian—a young master who actually acted like a warrior.
"Oh! Good day, Young Master!"
An elderly woman, her face wrinkled like a dried walnut, waved to him from a vibrant stall overflowing with exotic blooms.
"How about surprising your sweet love with a garland today?" the granny smiled, holding up a beautifully woven string of Moonlight Orchids. "They are fresh from the eastern hills! Perfect for a beautiful lady!"
Yoriichi paused for a fraction of a second. The image of Xiao Yu sleeping soundly in his bed flashed briefly in his mind, followed by the golden-eyed gaze of Xun'er.
He offered a polite, incredibly faint bow of his head.
"Not needed, Granny," Yoriichi replied, his voice calm and respectful. "But the flowers are beautiful. Good morning to you."
He continued his walk, leaving the bustling market behind as the cobblestone streets gave way to the dense, pine-scented forest of the Southern Pass.
After another ten minutes, the sound of rushing water echoed through the trees. He had reached his designated training area. The hot stream bubbled violently, filling the secluded clearing with a thick, sulfurous mist.
Yoriichi leaped gracefully over the churning water, landing silently on the massive, flat boulder situated in the very center of the stream.
He drew his Wind Sword and placed it across his lap as he sat cross-legged. He closed his eyes, shutting out the physical world.
It was time.
For days, he had felt the barrier of the 9-Star Dou Disciple stage pushing against his meridians. The gaseous Dou Qi within his abdomen was so thick and dense it felt like a physical weight. The time for accumulation was over; the time for condensation had arrived.
Usually, a disciple of a major clan would never attempt this leap without a Qi Gathering Pill. The pill acted as a stabilizing agent, forcing the gaseous Qi to compress into a liquid cyclone safely. Without it, the failure rate was incredibly high, often resulting in shattered meridians and a crippled cultivation base.
Yoriichi possessed a Peak Tier 2 healing pill in his pocket, but no Qi Gathering Pill. And he didn't care.
"A warrior does not rely on external crutches to forge his own foundation," Yoriichi thought, his mind entering a state of absolute, mirror-like tranquility.
He began his breathing.
"Total Concentration Breathing."
His lungs expanded, drawing in massive quantities of oxygen. His heart rate slowed to a deliberate, powerful thud. He ensured a calm and focused mind to maintain precise, microscopic control over his internal energies.
Then, he shifted the rhythm.
"Breath of the Sun."
He did not direct the technique outward to create external flames or physical heat. Instead, he turned the terrifying, solar energy completely inward. He guided the burning rhythm directly into his Dantian.
Inside his body, it was chaos. The thick, milky-white gaseous Dou Qi stubbornly resisted compression, swirling violently against the walls of his meridians.
Yoriichi used the internal heat of 'Breath of the Sun' like a blacksmith's furnace. He essentially began to 'smelt' his own Dou Qi. He applied intense, crushing pressure from all sides, using his iron will as the hammer.
The heat inside his abdomen spiked dramatically. Sweat poured from his forehead, instantly vaporizing into steam the moment it touched his hot skin. The pain was excruciating—a tearing, burning sensation as if he had swallowed a mouthful of molten iron.