The world did not stop turning simply because Chen Ping reached the 3rd Level. Life continued in silence.

For a low-level cultivator, silence was armor. Earth-shattering events belonged to the chosen few, the protagonists of legends. For the bottom-feeders of the sect, noise was a death sentence.

In a realm teeming with monsters and ancient immortals, a Low-key existence was the only path to longevity. To be seen was to be targeted.

Chen Ping understood this deep in his marrow. He buried his head and cultivated.

The efficacy of the Qi Gathering Pills and Marrow Cleansing Pills dwarfed the humble Spirit Nourishing Pills. Fueled by a relentless stream of self-refined medicine, Chen Ping’s cultivation didn’t just grow; it surged.

It was like boarding a flying boat catching a gale-force tailwind. The speed was terrifying.

Despite his deliberate efforts to consolidate his foundation and compress his Qi, the sheer volume of medicinal energy propelled him forward.

A realm that took ordinary cultivators three to five years to bridge, he crossed in months.

It completely upended his understanding of the Five Elements Spirit Root. The scriptures labeled his talent as “waste,” destined for a snail’s pace. Yet, through the brute force of alchemy, he was outpacing the so-called geniuses.

Six months vanished in a blur of meditation and fire.

On this day, Chen Ping sat at the center of the Spirit Gathering Array. The spiritual power in his body roared like a river in flood, slamming against the invisible dam within his Dantian.

Crack.

The barrier to the 5th Level of Qi Condensation shattered.

He didn’t stop to celebrate. He wasn’t just advancing in raw power; his Arts were evolving too.

The Fireball Art and the Object Control Art had both moved past the “Beginner” stage, firmly entering the realm of “Minor Achievement.” He was inching closer to “Major Achievement” every day.

But it wasn’t enough.

He sensed no Drug Resistance yet. The pills still dissolved into pure, unadulterated potency.

Chen Ping swallowed another handful of pills and closed his eyes. He would not rest.

Time slipped away again. The end of his second year at the sect approached.

Inside the small hut, a wave of spiritual fluctuation erupted—far stronger than the last—before being instantly clamped down by Chen Ping’s iron will.

He opened his eyes. The air around him shimmered with heat.

The 6th Level of Qi Condensation.

Two years. From a mortal Drawing Qi into the Body to the 6th Level.

Only Chen Ping knew the cost. The endless, grinding monotony. He had not wasted a single hour.

Human nature is prone to rot. Laziness is the default state. Even cultivators, with the promise of immortality dangling before them, eventually slack off. They grow complacent with minor successes.

But Chen Ping had the Jade Pendant. He had the Black Earth. He possessed the ultimate cheat, and that knowledge terrified him into discipline. If he failed with these advantages, he would be the world’s greatest fool.

It wasn’t just his cultivation base. His combat capabilities had undergone a qualitative leap.

He dedicated every spare breath to grinding his Arts.

The Object Control Art had shed its stiffness. The flying sword no longer moved in straight lines; it danced. It was a viper in the air, turning at acute angles, accelerating instantly. With a thought, the sword was there.

The Fireball Art was even more refined. He could summon a sphere of white-hot plasma in a heartbeat. The size was condensed, the heat concentrated, and the accuracy absolute.

The Evergreen Art manual stated that a cultivator who could bring a basic Art to Major Achievement within a year had “decent aptitude.”

Chen Ping had pushed two Arts to Major Achievement in just over half a year.

A rare feeling of confidence settled in his chest. Perhaps his Spirit Root was trash, but his comprehension… his mind was sharp.

While his personal power grew, the Black Earth space continued to defy the laws of nature.

The “Cold Star Grass Tree” was a monstrosity.

Because of its unique growth, Chen Ping had uprooted the other standard plants to give it room.

It had been growing for another year in real time. In the accelerated time of the space, it was now technically twenty-five years old.

It stood five feet tall.

The leaves were broad and thick, two fingers wider than a standard ten-year-old specimen. They were speckled with countless starlight dots, indicating a medicinal potency that was off the charts.

It carried eighty-nine leaves—twenty times the yield of a normal plant.

If Chen Ping hadn’t developed a slight Drug Resistance to the Marrow Cleansing Pill, he would have harvested it immediately. Now, he let it grow out of sheer curiosity. He wanted to see the limit. When would this mutant plant finally die?

It wasn’t just the Cold Star Grass.

A single stalk of Qi Gathering Grass had also mutated into a tree.

Normal Qi Gathering Grass stopped growing at half a foot. It usually withered after a dozen years.

This thing was a foot tall. It bore twelve leaves, six times the normal amount. It was a freak of nature, possessing a vitality that shouldn’t exist.

Every time Chen Ping looked at these two “trees” on the Black Earth, he felt a mix of awe and unease.

The Jade Pendant wasn’t just accelerating time. It was rewriting the Rules. There was a fundamental law unique to the Black Earth, twisting the biology of everything planted in it.

However, even miracles have limits.

The dreaded Bottleneck finally arrived.

Chen Ping swallowed a Marrow Cleansing Pill, then a Qi Gathering Pill.

Nothing happened.

Or rather, very little happened. The sensation of scouring the Meridians was faint, like a gentle breeze instead of a storm. The increase in spiritual power was negligible.

Drug Resistance.

His body was saturated. These Tier 1 pills were now little more than sugar pellets. They might barely push him to the 7th Level if he ate them like candy, but after that? Useless.

He needed better pills.

His Alchemy had improved alongside his cultivation. His Success Rate for Qi Gathering Pills was a steady 50%, and Marrow Cleansing Pills were hitting 60%. He was an elite Tier 1 Alchemist.

He looked at the fifty Qi Gathering Pills stockpiled in his Storage Pouch. They were wealth, but they couldn’t help him break through anymore.

He needed new formulas. Higher-tier recipes.

Chen Ping’s eyes narrowed. The sect wouldn’t give them to a servant. That left only one option: The Black Market.

It was dangerous. It was illegal. But he had no choice.

Just as the plan formed in his mind, a sharp, urgent knock shattered the silence of the hut.