Four months passed quietly. Too quietly for most people to notice.
For Lu Haotian, those four months were heavy, slow, and painful in the same familiar way. His days still followed the same strict pattern—morning training, farm work, night practice—but something had changed.
The sky mattered more now.At dawn, when the first sunlight crept over the walls of the Lu Family compound, Lu Haotian stood barefoot in the courtyard.
His feet pressed against the cold stone as he slowly Stepped forward with the lead leg, twist hips, extend the rear arm in a straight line punch.
This was the Iron mountain fist. He got it from the library as he need to also learn how to use his fist. His breathing was steady, hiss movements were slow but precise.
The sunlight brushed against his skin, seeping in little by little. His muscles tightened, then relaxed. His bones felt warm, as if being gently hammered from the inside. By the time the sun fully rose, sweat soaked his back and his vision swam slightly. He sat down, lowered his arms and exhaled slowly.
Breathing slowly through his nose, drawing in ambient spiritual qi as faint, cool mist—gentle and unforced, like fog drifting into a quiet valley. The mist passed through his mortal-grade, no-affinity spirit roots, where refinement was slow and difficult; most of the qi arrived thin and turbid, scattering or leaking away before it could fully settle, but the small amount that survived spread faintly through his limbs and torso, then sank downward to his lower dantian in meager wisps.
As he continued the steady breathing—inhale mist, settle what little dew formed, exhale haze—he reached into his sleeve and placed the single low-grade Qi Condensation Pill on his tongue. It tasted bitter and metallic as it dissolved quickly. He swallowed without breaking rhythm.
The pill's warm current surged from his stomach almost immediately, rushing toward his dantian like a sluggish river forcing its way through cracked earth. His spirit roots strained harder under the sudden influx—the refinement remained painful and inefficient, the pill's qi arriving chaotic and mostly unfiltered, much of it dissipating before it could condense. Sweat beaded on his forehead; sharp stabs radiated through his abdomen as his dantian walls stretched, but he kept his face calm and his breathing even.
He guided the surviving refined qi downward with careful cycles of the Veiled Mist Technique. The fragile, shallow pool he had maintained at the second layer trembled, then swirled faster under the pill's pressure. Droplets that had clung stubbornly merged with effort, forming thicker, heavier beads. After many minutes of persistent breathing, a soft internal crack echoed in his mind—like a thin barrier giving way. The qi pool deepened abruptly, expanding from a small puddle into a modest but stable lake. The mist cleared slightly, becoming less hazy, more defined. His meridians pulsed once, hot and sore, then settled into a wider flow.
He had broken through to the third layer of Qi Condensation.
Lu Haotian opened his eyes slowly. The morning light was still soft, the room still quiet. No glow leaked from his body; the suppression ring on his finger kept his aura capped at the appearance of the second layer. Only he felt the difference: the cool, damp weight in his dantian was noticeably heavier now, more solid—a hidden well that had finally deepened enough to hold real water. He exhaled once, long and quiet, then rose to begin his day's errands as if nothing had changed.
He finally brokethrough. He did not laugh, he simply stood there for a long moment, letting it sink in. Most children his age were already at the fifth layer.Some were nearing the sixth.And the twins—Lu Chenfeng and Lu Yanran—had already reached the eighth layer. Lu Haotian listened quietly as people talked. He nodded politely when spoken to. He returned to his work.That night, as he practiced beneath the moon, his maid sat on the steps watching him."You look happy today," she said suddenly.He paused. "Do I?"She nodded seriously. "A little. Just a little."He thought about it. Maybe she was right.After a moment, she hugged her knees. "Young master… you'll be eleven soon, right?""In three months."She counted on her fingers, then looked up. "Then I'll be ten."Her voice was small. Lu Haotian understood why. Ten years old meant spirit root testing. Servants were rarely tested. Even when they were, nothing came of it.
Then he said, "Stand up."She blinked. "Huh?""Stand up."She obeyed, confused.He stepped in front of her and took a basic stance—the same one he used at the very beginning of his training."This stance," he said, "helps keep balance."She tilted awkwardly, almost falling over. "Like this?""No. Feet wider."She adjusted."Knees bent."She complained immediately. "That hurts.""It will."She looked at him suspiciously.
Then added, "If you practice every day, I'll take you to that restaurant in the market. "Her eyes lit up instantly. "The one with roasted beast meat?""Yes."
"Really?""Really."She clenched her fists. "Then I'll do it."She tried to stand straighter.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed again.
Lu Haotian corrected her patiently. The moonlight washed over both of them, quiet and soft. He watched her as she practiced her stance.