Time within the Forgotten Valley flowed like a placid river without a single ripple.
This place seemed to be a world forgotten by Heaven and Earth themselves. There were no human voices, no bitter struggles; there was only the burbling of the spring, the melodious chirping of birds, and the wind rustling through the emerald bamboo forests, composing a symphony of absolute tranquility.
This was the most perfect place to settle one's Dao heart.
Tran Kien chose the small cave behind the waterfall as the location for his closed-door cultivation. He sealed the entrance with a massive boulder, leaving only a tiny fissure for air to circulate. He did not rush to cultivate immediately. He spent the first three days merely sitting in cross-legged meditation, doing absolutely nothing. He was cleansing himself. Cleansing the stench of blood from his battles, cleansing the tension of his schemes, and cleansing the subconscious arrogance that had arisen after inheriting such a monumental legacy. He was finding himself again, seeking the resolute, reticent youth named Tran Kien from Fallen Leaf Town of the past.
This was the very first and most crucial step in the "concealment" stratagem that Elder Ve had taught him: To hide from one's enemies, one must first thoroughly understand and master oneself.
Once his state of mind had become completely translucent like a serene autumn lake, Tran Kien began a process of bitter cultivation even more grueling than his days at the blacksmith shop.
Every early morning, when the night dew still hung upon the blades of grass, he would sit upon a stone slab by the lake, facing the slowly rising sun. He circulated the Heavenly Qi Circulation art. But now, he was no longer a fumbling apprentice. Having fused with the heart of the dragon, his connection with the Dragon Veins of Dai Viet had become incomparably profound. He was no longer merely "guiding" the Solar Qi; he was "harmonizing" with it. He could sense the "breathing" of Heaven and Earth, could feel the pulse of the Dragon Veins. The Primordial Qi within his body, under this resonance, did not merely increase in quantity but underwent a qualitative transformation. It became purer and more majestic, ceaselessly nourishing the seed of his Dao Foundation, which grew stronger with each passing day.
During the day, he did not cultivate his spiritual energy. He walked to the front of the waterfall. He no longer used his saber to cleave the flowing water. He had come to an epiphany; his Saber Intent—the Thousand Hammers, Hundred Refinements—was not merely about destruction, but also about tempering and control.
Gripping his matte-black saber, he stood beneath the roaring, cascading waterfall. He did not use his Primordial Qi to protect his body. He used his own flesh and blood, tough as iron and steel, to withstand the crushing might of tens of thousands of pounds of crashing water. He was using the most primal method to temper his corporeal body.
Then, he began to dance with his saber. He did not slash at the water. He used the spine of the blade, the flat of the blade, to "feel" the current. He learned how to ride its momentum, how to neutralize it, how to find the flaws in a berserk power that seemingly possessed no weaknesses. His saber arts no longer held a domineering, head-on ferocity; instead, they had acquired the fluid, flexible grace of water.
One day, after standing beneath the waterfall for three entire months, Tran Kien abruptly opened his eyes. He neither slashed nor parried. He merely thrust the blade forward with peerless lightness. The saber's edge glided through the torrential cascade without creating a single ripple. The water flowed past the blade, naturally parting to the sides in absolute harmony.
He had achieved enlightenment. The greatest power was not destruction, but control.
Nighttime was dedicated to the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Formation.
He sat within the cave, the two legacy fragments resting before him. He was not just memorizing the mnemonic chants; he was using his very soul to fuse with them. He recalled the trials within the secret realm.
When comprehending the Solar Essence Guard, he thought not only of the blazing sun but of the indomitable will of the Mountain God, Son Tinh, and the resilience of the ancient Lac Viet people when battling natural disasters. Guard was not merely defense; it was the unyielding will to protect one's homeland to the bitter end.
When comprehending the Baiyue Coral, he thought of the kindness and diligence of Maiden Tam, and the murals depicting the common people pounding rice and rowing boats. True power did not stem from lofty, untouchable things, but from simple, ordinary life and creative labor.
And when comprehending the Soaring Lac Feathers, he thought of the sacrifice and immortal love within the legend of the Betel and Areca, and of the flocks of Lac Birds flying freely. Soaring was not about wreaking havoc; it was about absolute freedom and harmony with Heaven and Earth.
He was using the very "soul" of his people to breathe life into the "momentum" of the formation.
Time flowed on. One year. Two years.
During his two years of closed-door cultivation, the outside world underwent countless upheavals. The war between Duke Dingguo's Estate and Marquis Vinh An's Estate grew increasingly fierce. The Black Dragon Stronghold, having suffered grievous losses, had temporarily gone silent, but everyone knew they were secretly amassing strength for an even more frenzied vengeance. The name Tran Kien, after shocking the world for a time, gradually faded into oblivion. Everyone assumed that the genius had likely died a premature death in some forgotten corner.
They did not know that, within a forgotten valley, a fierce tiger was silently sharpening its fangs and claws.
On a certain morning, two years after entering closed-door cultivation.
Tran Kien was still sitting in cross-legged meditation by the lakeshore. His breathing had become virtually imperceptible. His entire being seemed to have merged as one with Heaven and Earth, with the rivers and mountains.
Suddenly, the golden seed of his Dao Foundation within his body—having been nourished by Primordial Qi and Dragon Aura for two years—absorbed enough energy. It gave a slight tremble, then slowly, slowly... cracked open!
From within that seed emerged not a sapling, but a tiny, nine-petaled lotus dais. Milky-white in color, it slowly rotated, radiating an incredibly stable and profound aura.
Foundation Establishment, success!
His cultivation base, after two years of precipitation, had finally undergone a qualitative breakthrough! He had officially stepped into the Mid-Foundation Establishment stage!
But this was not the end.
At the exact moment his Dao Foundation formed, all the profound knowledge regarding body refinement, Qi cultivation, Saber Intent, and formations within his mind seemed to find an anchor point. They began to fuse together with mad intensity.
Tran Kien's eyes snapped open. He did not reveal any joy. He merely stood up and grasped his matte-black saber.
He didn't look at anything in particular. He simply slashed out with a single stroke.
An incredibly ordinary slash.
Yet, as the blade passed, a tiny, pitch-black spatial tear abruptly appeared in the air before him, before rapidly knitting itself closed.
This single slash contained the "Form" of the Iron Pierce, the "Qi" of the Primordial, the "Intent" of the Thousand Hammers, Hundred Refinements, and the "Momentum" of the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Formation.
He had succeeded. He had fused them all into one.
Tran Kien sheathed his saber. He gazed towards the south, toward the distant capital. In his profound eyes, there was no longer any hidden forbearance, but a sharpness that nothing could conceal.
"Marquis Vinh An, Black Dragon Stronghold..."
"It is time," he murmured. "To emerge from seclusion."