The Qi Refining stage is the great divide between mortals and cultivators. Before the third layer, the distinction is negligible. At most, a practitioner possesses slightly more strength, better stamina, and a faster recovery rate than an ordinary human, making them less susceptible to illness. At this level, the Dantian Qi Sea has only just been forced open; spiritual reserves are shallow, and one cannot yet actively manipulate internal energy. They rely entirely on the passive nurturing of the body by spiritual essence.

However, reaching the third layer of Qi Refining changes everything. This stage signifies that the Dantian Qi Sea has fully stabilized and spiritual energy has accumulated to a functional degree. For the first time, a cultivator can channel their internal power to manifest simple, minor spells.

And Gu Xiu needed exactly that: a minor spell.

Sitting cross-legged with the green bamboo pole laid horizontally before him, Gu Xiu formed a series of hand seals. The spiritual power within his body began to circulate through his meridians with focused intent. Suddenly, he snapped his eyes open, a flash of brown light flickering within his pupils.

“Drive Vine!”

With a low mutter, he maintained the seal with his left hand while his right index and middle fingers pressed firmly onto the emerald bamboo. A strange scene immediately unfolded. The originally inert, quiet bamboo pole began to tremble violently the moment Gu Xiu touched it. Strands of rule-based power operated within the artifact, frantically resisting the spell.

The Drive Vine Technique was a basic wood-element spell usually used to exert limited control over ordinary plants. It was considered a common and largely impractical spell that most cultivators ignored. But as Gu Xiu’s right hand maintained the control, his left hand blurred into a new seal.

“Spiritual Thread!”

A shimmering filament of spiritual energy manifested at his fingertips. Without hesitation, Gu Xiu worked both hands in tandem. His right hand used the Drive Vine Technique to suppress the bamboo’s resistance, while his left began to wind the spiritual thread around the pole in a precise, geometric pattern.

The bamboo pole did not submit easily; the rule power within it flickered and lashed out, snapping the spiritual thread time and again. Gu Xiu remained unperturbed. Each time the thread broke, he restarted the process, engaging in a silent tug-of-war with the artifact.

Finally, just as his spiritual reserves were nearly exhausted, the thread successfully wound its way to the very tip of the rod.

“Now!”

Gu Xiu did not hesitate. As the bamboo rod made one last attempt to break free, he flicked his finger. A single drop of essence blood landed exactly seven inches down the rod. Instantly, the bamboo’s struggle ceased, and it became perfectly docile.

Success. Blood recognition had been achieved, and the bamboo was painted into a rod. The spiritual thread, which previously required constant channeling, merged with the bamboo to become a permanent fishing line. The green bamboo rod had truly become a celestial fishing pole.

As he picked it up, he felt an indescribable sensation—a profound mystery that defied words.

“Angling across all realms?” Gu Xiu murmured. “Let’s see if I can catch anything.”

He flicked the rod. The line dropped, and the end of it simply vanished into thin air. To any observer, it looked as if Gu Xiu were sitting in a cave, fishing into the void. As he waited, he wondered if his technique was correct or if he needed bait. He had learned this method as a bystander within the ten-thousand-year illusion; in that timeline, it had taken Jiang Xun a millennium to discover the correct usage by sheer accident.

Fortunately, just as doubt began to creep in, the pole grew heavy. A sharp tug vibrated through his hand, exactly like a fish biting a hook. Gu Xiu’s eyes lit up as he hauled upward.

Unexpectedly, he couldn’t lift it.

An immense force surged from the other end of the line, like a leviathan struggling in the depths. Gu Xiu pulled repeatedly, but the line held fast.

“Patience is the soul of fishing,” he whispered to himself. He stopped forcing the lift and began a delicate tug-of-war. When the “fish” struggled, he yielded; when it tired, he reeled.

Half an hour passed in this grueling contest until the strength on the other end began to fail. Sensing the perfect moment, Gu Xiu braced himself.

“Now!”

He heaved upward with sudden, explosive force. For a fleeting second, the roar of an ancient deity seemed to echo through the cave, only to be cut off the moment the catch cleared the spatial threshold.

Attached to the line was an ancient book with a dark, weathered cover.

“A manual?” Gu Xiu’s heart hammered. The Wu Kui text within his Dantian required precisely such things to grow. But as he looked closer at the dark cover, he froze. Four large, archaic characters were embossed on the front:

The Celestial Tome of Talismans.

“Is this… real?” Gu Xiu whispered in disbelief.

The Path of Talismans was one of the six major paths of the cultivation world. Talisman masters were highly revered for their ability to imbue spiritual power into ink and paper, creating tools that could assist in survival or unleash devastating destruction. A top-tier master was said to be able to slaughter a city or topple a nation with a single slip of paper.

His former Fifth Senior Sister, Qin Moran, was a powerful Talisman Master. Five hundred years ago, they had been close, and she had told him the legends of her path. One proverb stood out: “He who obtains the Celestial Tome of Talismans shall become the Supreme Master of the Way.”

Legend claimed the Tome was the evolution of the Great Dao itself, containing every talismanic array pattern in existence. However, it had vanished ten thousand years ago after the ascension of a master named Xu Mozi. Some said he took it to the immortal realm; others claimed it was hidden behind divine restrictions. Regardless, no Supreme Master had appeared since its disappearance.

Qin Moran had spent her life lamenting its loss. Gu Xiu shook his head at the irony. “Qin Moran, it seems you were destined to never lay eyes on this book.”

He opened the Tome and was immediately struck by its complexity. It didn’t just teach how to draw; it analyzed the fundamental roots of the universe. Comprehending it would normally take centuries of contemplation.

I don’t have that kind of time, Gu Xiu thought, his limited lifespan weighing on him. But what if I use the Wu Kui manual?

He had seen how the wordless manual in his Dantian could refine and accelerate his understanding. If he transcribed the Celestial Tome into the Wu Kui text, perhaps it would simplify the mysteries and shorten his path to mastery.

He immediately sank into his internal vision and began the transcription. As character after character appeared upon the Wu Kui manual, Gu Xiu remained blissfully unaware that the world outside his cave was undergoing a cataclysmic transformation.