Bai Zhi looked at Chen Ping, her gaze piercing. Despite his calm exterior, she sensed the faint, almost imperceptible urgency simmering beneath the surface. She shook her head gently.

“A trick? There isn’t one. Sensing Qi is inherently different for each person. It relies entirely on talent and that indescribable spark of comprehension. Back when I started…”

She paused, her eyes drifting as she recalled the past.

“…it took me nearly a month just to vaguely sense the presence of Qi for the first time. It took another half-month to successfully draw it into my body. You’ve only just received the technique; there is no need to rush.”

A month and a half? It took that long?

Chen Ping felt a heavy wave of disappointment crash over him. The path of Cultivation was far more arduous than he had imagined.

If it took a genius like Bai Zhi a month and a half, how long would it take him? He possessed an utterly worthless Five-Element Waste Spirit Root.

Chen Ping clasped his hands, masking his frustration with resignation. “I understand. Thank you, Manager Bai.”

He asked no further questions. If this first hurdle of Drawing Qi into the Body could only be overcome through sheer, grinding effort and “comprehension,” then he was in for a long siege.

It was completely different from what he had anticipated.

In the days that followed, Chen Ping continued to fulfill his duties at the Hundred Herb Garden during the daylight hours.

At night, without fail, he would sit rigidly in his stone hut. He repeatedly attempted to circulate the Qi-drawing method of the Evergreen Art, sinking his mind into a state of emptiness in a desperate bid to grasp that intangible Qi.

There was no progress whatsoever.

He even took out a Low-grade Spirit Stone. Spirit Stones contained pure Qi; perhaps that would be the catalyst he needed.

He gripped the Spirit Stone tightly, trying to sense the energy within or guide it into his body. The stone felt cool to the touch, and the energy inside was undeniably present—a hum of power just beneath his skin.

But that energy seemed sealed within solid crystal. No matter how hard he strained his will, he couldn’t stir even a fraction of it. The Spirit Stone was just a stone to him; without the key to unlock it, it was useless.

Another night of futile effort passed.

A week went by in this anxious cycle of failure.

That night, Chen Ping habitually entered the Jade Pendant space. He scanned the spiritual herbs thriving within the pocket dimension.

When his gaze swept over the patch of Cold Star Grass at the periphery, his heart gave a violent jolt.

The mother plant of the Cold Star Grass, the one planted closest to the chaotic gray edge, had finally matured.

Its leaves were no longer a simple dark green; their edges now revealed a deep, ice-blue luster. The veins seemed to flow with faint starlight, and the cool aura emanating from the plant was clear and condensed.

It stood there quietly, like a cold star congealed within the eternal night of the dimension.

Chen Ping’s heartbeat accelerated sharply.

The Black Earth space had reached its limit for planting spiritual herbs—two hundred Dew Condensing Grass plants and two hundred Cold Star Grass plants. Division Propagation was pointless now.

He had made zero progress in Drawing Qi into the Body through meditation. But perhaps this mature Cold Star Grass could help him.

He dug up the mature Cold Star Grass, exited the space, and returned to the dim reality of his stone hut.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he tore off a piece of the leaf about the size of a fingernail. He placed it in his mouth and chewed.

The leaf was bitter, carrying an intense sensation of coldness that numbed his tongue. Yet, the moment he swallowed it, a warm current exploded in his stomach.

It spread with unusual clarity and speed, like a ball of fire rampaging left and right within his body.

Chen Ping immediately straightened his posture, circulating the Qi-drawing method of the Evergreen Art with all his might. He used his will to guide this icy-cold energy.

This power derived from the spiritual herb was far more tangible than the empty nothingness he sensed during his meditative sits. Guided by his will, that warm energy began to slowly move downward.

It flowed past his chest, moving through his upper abdomen. However, just as it approached the Dantian position in his lower abdomen, the energy seemed to lose its support. It rapidly weakened and dissipated into nothing.

Only a lingering warmth remained in his gut.

Failure.

But a glimmer of predatory light ignited in Chen Ping’s eyes.

It worked. This medicinal potency could be guided.

Not discouraged in the least, he immediately tore off another piece of leaf. This one was much larger—almost three times the previous size, about as big as an egg. He stuffed it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

A stronger torrent of heat surged through his body.

This time, driven by his full concentration and willpower, the energy rushed much further downward. It surged past the Dantian position and even spread downward a bit more.

But ultimately, still not far from the core of the Dantian, it lost momentum and scattered once more.

Chen Ping didn’t pause. His gaze became exceptionally resolute.

He took the entire remaining Cold Star Grass plant—stem, leaves, and roots—stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed with force.

A bitter, icy-cold taste flooded his mouth, followed instantly by an immense torrent of pure, scalding medicinal power. It rushed into every limb and corner of his being like a breaking dam.

“Ugh… Aah!”

Chen Ping let out a suppressed groan, grinding his teeth to keep from screaming.

This power was too strong. Wherever the scalding hot current passed, it felt as if countless hot needles were brutally piercing and scraping his meridians.

Intense stabbing pain and unbearable heat caused his entire body to tense up instantly.

Chen Ping’s jaw clenched so hard his gums bled. Veins bulged on his forehead like worms. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his clothes.

His body trembled violently, betraying his control. A faint layer of mist seemed to rise from his skin’s surface as his temperature spiked.

It was excruciating. The pain was so intense it threatened to tear apart his very will.

He clung desperately to the last shred of clarity in his mind. Only one thought remained: Draw Qi into my body! Survive! Get revenge!

Enduring agony that felt like it was burning his soul alive, he mustered every ounce of mental focus. Like trying to rein in a wild stallion gone berserk, he desperately circulated the Evergreen Art.

His will transformed into invisible reins, pulling with all its might against the rampaging torrent of heat within him. Following the path recorded in the technique manual—painstakingly slowly—he forced it bit by bit toward convergence in his lower abdomen.

The scalding torrent struggled wildly against him. It rammed and crashed violently against his insides. Each impact brought heart-piercing agony.

Chen Ping’s face contorted. His body shook like a leaf in a gale. But he refused to let go. Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth, yet his eyes burned like flames, fixed unwaveringly on that internal target—the Dantian.

One inch… then another inch…

Under the restraint of his immense willpower, the raging heat current slowly crawled toward its destination.

How long did it take? It felt like an eternity.

Finally, the torrent—now forcibly gathered and mostly tamed by sheer force—was dragged down by Chen Ping. With a final, immense effort, he slammed it into his Dantian.

Hum!

Chen Ping’s body jolted violently.

A strange sensation, unprecedented and profound, appeared within him.

The void of his lower abdomen was no longer empty.

There, resting in the center, was a tiny cluster. It was extremely faint, yet undeniably real. A breath-like existence. A gas-like substance.

Like a wisp of exhaled breath visible on a winter morning, so fine it was almost imperceptible, it rested quietly deep inside his core.

It was no longer violent, but docile. It stayed put obediently, responding subtly whenever prompted gently by his conscious thought. It flowed slowly, faintly circulating within the natural confines of his Dantian.

Success!

The excruciating pain receded, leaving behind only a bone-deep soreness and exhaustion that weighed down his entire being.

Chen Ping collapsed onto his wooden bed, gasping heavily for air. He was soaked thoroughly; the sweat produced during the struggle had already turned cold and clammy against his skin.

Yet, despite the agony he had just endured, he had managed to pull off the impossible.

A silent smile spread wide across his face, relaxing features that had been twisted in pain only moments before.

The overwhelming medicinal potency of the Cold Star Grass had finally allowed him to brute-force his way through.

He had finally achieved his goal. He had Drawn Qi into the Body.