His newly acquired strength was a raw, untamed asset. Wei Lian knew that forcing more power into an unstable foundation was a path to ruin. True strength was not just about the volume of Qi, but the precision of its control. He needed to practice, to circulate his energy through complex patterns until his new power was as familiar and responsive as his own limbs. For that, he needed techniques.
He left his mansion and made his way to the sect's Scripture Pavilion, a grand, nine-story pagoda that spiraled into the sky. A young man who couldn't have been older than twenty-one sat behind the entrance desk, reading a worn bamboo scroll. His features were sharp and handsome, but his eyes told a different story. They were deep and placid, like ancient pools of water that had seen the passing of seasons beyond counting.
Wei Lian approached the desk and presented his obsidian identity token.
The librarian, Deacon Feng, did not look up immediately. He finished reading a line on his scroll before his ancient eyes slowly rose to appraise Wei Lian. A flicker of spiritual energy, barely perceptible, brushed against the token.
"Ah," his voice was clear and smooth, yet his cadence was slow, each word chosen with deliberation. "The runner-up from the tournament. Our records show you are entitled to two selections from the first three floors. A significant prize. Do not waste it on flashy, impractical arts."
Acknowledging the advice with a nod, Wei Lian entered the serene quiet of the pavilion. He bypassed the first two floors, ascending directly to the third. This floor was reserved for late-stage Foundation Establishment disciples, and the techniques were of a much higher caliber.
His first priority was a movement technique. He needed an art that emphasized control and efficiency. His search led him to a restricted alcove where a jade slip rested alone on a pedestal, bathed in a soft glow. The name was Ephemeral Gale Dance. The description promised a profound art that taught the user to perceive and flow with air currents, becoming one with the wind itself.
Next, he sought a healing technique. He found it in a section labeled "Life Arts." The slip was named Springwood Revival Art. Its description was compelling: a technique that used one's own vitality to heal, but with a crucial refinement. It taught the user to purify the life force as it circulated, expelling impurities and latent damage while sealing wounds. Each use would also subtly temper and purify the user's Qi.
He took both jade slips to the central dais, where another deacon managed the imprinting process. This one appeared middle-aged and officious, appraising the slips with rising eyebrows. "Ephemeral Gale Dance and Springwood Revival Art. A bold choice. The total cost is three thousand five hundred points."
Wei Lian simply placed his obsidian token on the formation array. The deacon infused it with a sliver of Qi. The number on the array flashed brightly as his prize waiver was recorded, then reset to zero. "The transaction is complete."
Wei Lian pressed the first jade slip to his forehead, absorbing the intricate torrent of information. He then absorbed the second, its warm and vibrant knowledge flowing into his mind.
He left the Scripture Pavilion with his point balance untouched but his mind brimming with priceless knowledge. He now had the advanced tools required to forge his raw power into a tempered weapon.
As the heavy doors of the pavilion swung shut, the middle-aged deacon at the dais let out a low whistle.
"An interesting choice for the runner-up's prize," he murmured, looking over at Deacon Feng. "He chose foundational arts over an overt attack technique."
Deacon Feng did not look up from his scroll, but a faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "Unusual, but not unwise. He favors foundation over facade."
The middle-aged deacon shook his head, a look of respect on his face. "Deacon Feng... this one is a good seed."
"Indeed," Deacon Feng replied, his voice still a placid current. "Did you notice? He has already broken through to the Second Level of Foundation Establishment since arriving."
The second deacon's eyes widened. "What? The tournament was just days ago. To consolidate and break through so quickly... Astonishing."
Deacon Feng turned a page, his expression unreadable. "Some seeds are merely watered," he said softly. "Others... contain a storm."
The spiritual energy of the mountain, already dense, sharpened to a focal point. Wei Lian, mid-meditation, felt the tidal surge of power from the mansion next door. It was a magnificent, chilling wave of Qi, cresting in a triumphant, silent explosion. A breakthrough.
The gate to mansion 2204 slid open. Su Chanyu emerged, a faint, genuine smile gracing her lips—a rare sight that momentarily altered her entire aura from one of icy distance to one of radiant satisfaction. The power flowing from her was immense, a palpable cloak of frost and might. While the breakthrough was a clear success, Wei Lian's sharpened senses could detect a faint, dissonant tremor beneath the surface, an instability no different from his own. It was a minor issue, something a few weeks of diligent practice could smooth out, but it was there.
Wei Lian rose and walked to the edge of his property, meeting her as she stepped onto the main path.
"Congratulations on your breakthrough," he said, his voice calm and even.
Her smile settled into a more neutral, yet still pleased, expression. Her gaze held a new level of appraisal as she looked at him. "I felt yours as well," she replied, her voice like the chime of ice crystals. "The congratulations are mutual."
"I acquired something in the market I believe you will find useful," Wei Lian said, bypassing any further pleasantries. He presented the ancient, tattered jade slip. The Glacial Heart Sutra.
She looked at the slip, then back at him, her brow furrowed in question. "Why?"
"It is an ice-aspected cultivation art, external to the sect's library," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "I have no use for it. Your progress is a benchmark for my own. An opponent who stagnates is no opponent at all. Consider it an investment in my own future cultivation."
His logic was cold, analytical, and framed in a language she understood perfectly: the transactional nature of power and ambition. To refuse would be to admit his reasoning was flawed, or worse, to allow pride to hinder her own path. It was a perfectly crafted offer.
She accepted the jade slip, her fingers brushing his for a moment. They were shockingly cold. "This is a profound gift," she stated, her spiritual sense already assessing the immense value contained within the slip. "A debt is noted."
"A debt is an investment," he corrected softly.
She gave a small, sharp nod, turned, and walked away, her mind already captivated by the ancient knowledge in her hand.
Wei Lian watched her go, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. The transaction was complete. As he turned to return to his mansion, the world in front of him shimmered, and the familiar blue text blazed into existence.
[System Notification]
Gift successfully bestowed upon a Key Figure.
Bonus criteria met: Insightful Gifting & Strategic Alignment.
Reward options have been catastrophically enhanced. Please select one:
[Ice Goddess Scripture x1] or [10x 100,000 Jin Pills]
Wei Lian's mind processed the information with lightning speed. The system had rewarded the quality and insight of his gift exponentially.
The Ice Goddess Scripture. The name alone promised a technique that dwarfed the Glacial Heart Sutra he had just given away. He could gift it to her as well, catapulting her power to an unimaginable level and indebting her to him so deeply she could never refuse a request. But that would be placing his fate in the hands of another. He could try to learn it himself, but without a compatible Ice Root, it would be a colossal waste of potential.
Then there was the second option. Ten pills, each granting a permanent boost of one hundred thousand jin. An additional one million jin of physical might, stacked upon what he already possessed.
The choice was a definition of his path. The Ice Goddess Scripture would empower her. The pills would empower him. One path was reliance on a powerful, indebted ally. The other was absolute self-reliance.
To Wei Lian, there was no choice at all. An ally, no matter how indebted, could still be swayed. They could die. They could betray. But the power forged into his own bones and muscles was his alone. It was an ultimate trump card, a devastating secret no one would ever see coming.
The scripture would make Su Chanyu a goddess of ice. But the pills... the pills would make Wei Lian a monster hidden in human form.
He focused his will, his intent sharp and absolute. I select the Ten Hundred-Thousand Jin Pills.
The text vanished. Inside his spatial storage, the ten hematite pills appeared, their collective weight a tangible promise of the overwhelming, tyrannical force he would soon command.
The heavy doors of the mansion clicked shut, sealing Wei Lian in with his newfound, world-shaking secret. The faint chill of the Glacial Heart Sutra was already a distant memory, completely overshadowed by the sheer, gravitational pull of the ten pills now resting within his spatial storage.
He sat in the center of his main training hall, a large, open chamber with a floor made of spirit-vein infused stone, designed to withstand the rigors of cultivation. He retrieved one of the pills. It was heavier than a sphere of lead its size ought to be, its polished hematite surface swirling with dense, leaden patterns. It felt less like an alchemical creation and more like a captured piece of a dying star.
Without hesitation, he placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed.
It did not dissolve like a normal elixir. It descended into his stomach like a lead weight before a terrifying energy, utterly devoid of Qi, exploded outwards. It was not a gentle stream but a violent, physical reforging. It was the raw, brutal power of mass and density.
A wave of intense heat washed through his body as the energy surged not through his meridians, but directly into his flesh, bone, and sinew. His bones groaned and creaked under an unimaginable pressure, becoming denser, harder. His muscles knotted, writhed, and expanded on a microscopic level, weaving themselves into something far stronger than before. For a moment, he felt as if his body weighed a thousand tons, that he was being compressed into an immovable object.
The sensation faded as his body stabilized, the violent torrent of power settling into a new, higher baseline. He felt... solid. Rooted to the world in a way he never had before. His Qi reserves were untouched, his spiritual sea calm, but his physical vessel had undergone a fundamental transformation.
He stood up slowly, feeling the change. He took a single, casual step. The stone floor beneath his foot did not crack, but he felt it groan in protest, a fine tremor running through it.
He held up his right hand, observing it. It looked the same. Pale, with long, slender fingers. He made a fist.
He didn't put any Qi into it. He didn't channel any esoteric energy. He simply closed his fingers, an action he had performed millions of times in his life. But this time was different. As his muscles contracted, he felt a wellspring of physical force so vast it defied his own senses. The air in his palm compressed with an audible whump.
CRACK.
The sound was sharp, like a whip. Wei Lian looked down. A web of spiderweb fractures radiated from beneath his feet, marring the smooth, reinforced stone of his training hall.
He stared at his hand, then at the floor, a cold understanding dawning in his mind. He had not stomped. He had not struck the ground. He had simply clenched his fist, and the uncontrolled, overflowing force had radiated through his body and shattered the formation-supported floor.
This was from one pill. An increase of one hundred thousand jin.
He had nine more.
The initial thrill of power was instantly replaced by a stark, chilling realization. If he were to take all ten pills now, his total physical strength would be beyond comprehension for his current level. More importantly, his control over it would be nonexistent. His body and mind were calibrated for the strength of a normal cultivator, not this monstrous, hidden force.
If he took them all now, he would be a walking disaster. A friendly pat on the shoulder could shatter a fellow disciple's bones. A handshake could crush their hand to a pulp. If he bumped into someone in the market, he might kill them outright. His every mundane interaction would become a potentially lethal event.
A trump card that could not be concealed was not a trump card; it was a liability. This overwhelming power had to be tamed. It had to become as natural and controllable as his own breathing.
He made his decision. He would absorb the pills one by one. After each one, he would train relentlessly, adapting to the new baseline of strength until he could move through the world without leaving a trail of unintentional destruction. Only when he had absolute mastery over his current level of force would he allow himself to take the next pill.
The path to wielding a million jin of hidden might was not a sprint; it was a meticulous, patient, and absolutely necessary crawl.