“Her Heavenly Fox bloodline has undergone a mutation. It is an exceedingly rare phenomenon. If you had paid close attention to the tips of her hair, you might have noticed the signs.”

Han Lie rested his chin on his hand, eyes narrowing in thought. “So, that explains the shifting colors of Captain Su Mei’s hair?”

He had indeed noticed it. Under the glare of the sun, the ends of Su Mei’s dark locks would shimmer with a strange, gradient iridescence. At the time, he had dismissed it as a cosmetic technique or a quirk of her cultivation art. He hadn’t expected it to be a biological imperative.

“So, Hall Master Su, what is the conclusion?” Han Lie asked, his voice steady. “Does this mutation harm her?”

Elder Su shook her head slowly. “I cannot say for certain. Generally, when a beast’s bloodline mutates, it evolves toward strength. It is a mechanism of racial self-preservation.”

She paused, looking out the window toward the distant peaks. “Perhaps because the Heavenly Fox Clan has been in decline for so long, the bloodline within Su Mei has been forced to awaken. To evolve.”

Han Lie understood immediately. Evolution.

If Su Mei survived this, she would not just be strong; she would be the apex of her kind. She could be the spark that reignited the glory of a fallen race.

“Naturally, fortune does not rain from the heavens without a price,” Elder Su continued gravely. “This power is a double-edged sword. There is a possibility the bloodline could devour her consciousness.”

“I see.” Han Lie nodded. High risk, high reward. It was the fundamental law of cultivation.

“I tell you this so you are prepared,” Elder Su said, fixing him with a serious gaze. “One day, she may return like a bolt of lightning, shaking the world. Or… she may not return at all.”

Han Lie stood, bowing slightly. “I understand. If there is any news of Captain Su Mei, please inform this junior.”

The Wooden Hut, Violet Heaven Palace.

The moment Han Lie stepped through the door, a furry projectile launched itself at him.

Xiao Zi kicked her legs against the air, meowing relentlessly as she demanded her tribute. Han Lie sighed, tossing a handful of high-grade Spirit Stones onto the floor.

“Hey, Xiao Zi,” Han Lie grumbled as the cat crunched on the stones like candy. “What is your cultivation level now? Don’t tell this senior you’ve eaten enough wealth to buy a small city without making any progress.”

Since her ascent to the Golden Core stage, Han Lie had lost count of the resources she had consumed. A conservative estimate put the bill at over three hundred thousand Spirit Stones.

“Hmph! Of course I’ve improved!” Xiao Zi lifted her chin, swallowing a gemstone whole. “I just broke through to the Late Golden Core stage. Amazing, right?”

“Late stage?” Han Lie’s eyes widened slightly. “Already?”

That speed was terrifying.

Han Lie had assumed she might hit the mid-stage. But to jump straight to the late stage? Her progression speed rivaled, perhaps even exceeded, Bai Ling’s quasi-ninth-grade Spirit Vein.

Then again, she was a Hell Nine-Tailed Cat, personally selected by Ye Qingxuan. The woman didn’t keep trash as pets. While beasts usually cultivated slower than humans, apex bloodlines broke all the rules.

“Hmph, hurry up and praise me!” the cat demanded.

“Do you want a flick on the forehead instead?” Han Lie raised a finger threateningly.

“What are you doing!” Xiao Zi hopped back, pouting.

“I’ll praise you when you can transform into a cat girl,” Han Lie said with a lecherous grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, the prerequisite is that you have to be pretty.”

“Meow—!” Xiao Zi hissed, her fur standing on end. Cat girl again! How obsessed is this old man?!

Han Lie chuckled, ignoring her indignation. He moved to his meditation mat and sat cross-legged. The playfulness vanished from his face, replaced by the stoic mask of a cultivator.

It was time. He was going to test the boundaries of the Nascent Soul stage.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the abyss of his consciousness.

Time lost its meaning.

In the blink of an eye, six months dissolved into nothingness.

For half a year, Han Lie threw his will against the ceiling of his cultivation. Unlike the Foundation Establishment or Golden Core stages, where he could feel a physical barrier—a wall to be battered down—the Nascent Soul stage offered no such target.

It was like trying to grasp smoke.

To birth a Nascent Soul was to turn the Golden Core into a cosmic furnace. One had to smelt their own soul and the essence of the Core together, forging a new life within the body.

This ‘Nascent Soul’ was a second life. A divine vessel. Even if the physical body was pulverized to dust, as long as the Nascent Soul escaped, the cultivator could be reborn. It was the difference between a mortal and a demigod.

Even peerless geniuses often failed their first attempt, hitting a wall of silence.

Han Lie failed, too. But it was a productive failure.

He hadn’t broken through, but he had touched the texture of that divinity. He had glimpsed the truth of the process.

Realizing that brute force wouldn’t work, Han Lie shifted his focus. He entered a deep meditative trance, honing the Yin Yang Scripture. This technique was his trump card, and he needed to polish it until it was flawless.

Another few months passed in silence.

Buzz!

A sharp vibration tore through his meditation space, shattering the tranquility.

“The palace gathers dust. Attend to it.”

Ye Qingxuan’s voice echoed in his mind—cool, imperious, and utterly devoid of emotion. It was the voice of a Queen commanding her subject.

Han Lie’s eyes snapped open.

He sat frozen for a moment, letting the memories of his year-long seclusion settle into his psyche. On the tea table, Xiao Zi was staring at him, meowing softly. The storage ring he had left for her was empty.

“Fine,” Han Lie muttered, stretching his stiff limbs. “A good excuse to ask the Demoness for more pet food funding.”

He stood up, his joints popping. He felt good. Powerful. The year of stillness had settled his foundation, making his energy dense and heavy like mercury.

He stepped out and looked up at the Violet Heaven Palace.

It had been neglected. Fallen leaves carpeted the courtyard, and dust dulled the pristine white jade.

Han Lie moved.

He didn’t just sweep; he danced. With his current cultivation, cleaning was trivial. Wind manipulated by his will swept the leaves; water summoned from the air scrubbed the stone. In less than half a day, the massive palace gleamed under the sun.

“Come to the third floor. See This Palace Master.”

The voice sounded again the moment the last speck of dust vanished.

Han Lie dropped the rag in his hand. A fire lit up in his belly—not just the hunger for advancement, but a more carnal, primal urge. He had been a monk for a year.

He looked up at the towering structure, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Coming, My Lady.”

He blurred into motion, rushing toward the stairs. He wondered if the Sect Leader was in need of some ‘cultivation assistance’ today.