While the celestial phenomenon roiled the firmament above, silence reigned within the Listening-to-Rain Pavilion. Gu Xiu sat cross-legged, maintaining a state of serene detachment. He turned his gaze inward.

Inside his body, monumental changes were reshaping his boundless Qi Sea.

Previously, the term “sea” had been merely metaphorical. The Dantian of a Qi Condensation cultivator held only gaseous spiritual energy, resembling a vast, rolling fog. But now, that boundless cloud sea churned, compressing violently under Gu Xiu’s will.

The vapor collapsed. It grew heavy, turning into gleaming droplets of spiritual liquid.

Drip.

The first drop fell into the void of his Dantian. This was the hallmark of Foundation Establishment: the total transmutation of Qi from gas to liquid. It was a qualitative leap, refining the energy to a purity that separated mortals from true cultivators as surely as heaven is separated from earth.

Yet, Gu Xiu paid little mind to the liquefaction. His focus was locked on the center of that infinite ocean, where he was constructing his foundation.

The Foundation Establishment Dao Platform.

It was the bedrock of the Great Dao, the singular structure upon which all future cultivation would rest. Gu Xiu drove the newly formed liquid spiritual power toward the center, weaving it together with the precision of a master craftsman.

Only when the platform was solid could one truly claim to have stepped into the Foundation Establishment realm.

The spiritual energy within him surged, following the complex pathways of his Heaven-grade cultivation technique. Amidst this frantic circulation, a structure began to manifest in the void, growing clearer with every passing second.

The energy reached critical mass.

“Rise,” Gu Xiu commanded.

His Dantian erupted with towering waves. From the depths of the spiritual ocean, a colossal entity breached the surface.

Every cultivator builds a platform, but their forms vary wildly based on their accumulation and technique. Some forge a block of wood; others, a stubborn stone. The rare genius might sculpt something intricate.

But Gu Xiu’s platform was a divine artifact.

It was an Auspicious Cloud Eight Trigrams Platform.

The Eight Trigrams, symbolizing the fundamental laws of reality, were etched into the surface with exquisite clarity. Ring after ring of seven-colored auspicious clouds drifted around its perimeter, vivid and lifelike, as if breathing in the spiritual air.

More terrifying were the markings. The platform was sheathed in Immortal Scripts—ancient, glowing seals that flowed across the surface like liquid mercury. One look was enough to plant a singular, undeniable thought in the mind of any observer:

This platform possesses the aura of an Immortal.

Beyond its divine markings, the platform possessed one other staggering characteristic.

It was massive.

For a newly ascended cultivator, a Dao Platform the size of a rice grain is standard. A genius might achieve the size of a palm. To forge a platform the size of a meditation mat is to be hailed as a peerless prodigy.

Cultivation is the process of expanding this platform. One starts small and builds outward until limits are reached, after which one builds upward in layers.

Gu Xiu defied this logic. He had only just stepped across the threshold, yet his Eight Trigrams Dao Platform was already the size of a house.

The contrast was horrifying. The broader the initial foundation, the more limitless the future potential. Mere proximity to such a sublime creation would be enough to shatter the confidence of lesser cultivators.

This was an Indestructible Dao Platform.

The foundation is not merely for display; it must bear the crushing weight of higher cultivation realms. If the foundation is weak, the tower will eventually collapse.

Five hundred years ago, Gu Xiu’s Dantian had been destroyed and his platform crumbled. While the endless battles in the Forbidden Realm and the terrible Dao Injury were the direct causes, the root cause was simpler.

His foundation had been insufficient.

Back then, the Azure Profound Sword Immortal had been a figure of awe, shaking the Eight Wastelands. Yet, his rapid ascent had been fueled by fortuitous encounters and an invincible will, masking a brittle core. He had sprinted where he should have walked.

In the Forbidden Realm, facing peerless prodigies and supreme experts, that flaw was finally exposed. He had fought his way out with sheer grit, burning his bridges behind him, but the final blow had left him a cripple.

Never again.

With this Auspicious Cloud Eight Trigrams Platform, Gu Xiu knew one thing with absolute certainty: even if he were to face the same tribulation, his cultivation would not scatter.

Even an Immortal could not shatter this platform.

This was the crystallization of centuries of Dao comprehension, the power of a supreme technique, and the explosive release of his “Perfect Qi Condensation.”

As the platform solidified, the universe responded. A massive vortex of innate spiritual energy—a gift from the Heavenly Dao—flooded into the pavilion.

Gu Xiu did not waste a wisp of it. He remained motionless, devouring the energy to stabilize his new creation.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He cast a brief, indifferent glance toward the window, then closed his eyes once more.

Meanwhile, on the roof of a small building opposite the Listening-to-Rain Pavilion, two silhouettes materialized from the darkness. They stared at the quiet courtyard, eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

“The entire city is distracted by the phenomenon in the sky,” one whispered. “If we want to achieve merit, there is no better time than now.”

The speaker stepped into a patch of moonlight, revealing the face of Daoist Sanquan, a high-ranking expert of the Four Seas Gang.

“I have confirmed the target,” Sanquan continued. “The resident is a loose cultivator named Feng Bugui. His cultivation is negligible—merely Qi Condensation ninth layer—but he is a master of the Dao of Formations.”

Beside him stood a man radiating a far more dangerous aura: Lu Yutian, a Golden Core expert from the Blood Fiend Sect who had recently aligned with the gang.

“Furthermore,” Sanquan added, “this man has close ties to Su Rumei of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion. She visits frequently, and guards are stationed here permanently. Capturing him would be a severe blow to them.”

The Four Seas Gang and Wanbao Tower were locked in a shadow war. With the Gang Leader preparing for a major offensive, Sanquan and Lu Yutian were desperate to prove their worth.

“Do not underestimate him,” Sanquan warned, his voice low. “His cultivation is weak, but his arrays are vicious. The last team we sent was repelled by a Three-Link Formation. Brother Lu, please be cautious.”

“I appreciate the warning, Daoist Sanquan, but I know what I am doing.” Lu Yutian nodded, though a sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Are you certain that capturing this nobody will earn me the Gang Leader’s favor and entry into the inner court?”

“It is inevitable,” Sanquan assured him. “If we snatch their prized formation master before the war officially begins, it will be a monumental contribution. With my recommendation added to your success, your promotion is all but guaranteed.”

In the stalemate of war, the fastest path to power is to sever the enemy’s limbs. A low-level cultivator with critical skills was the perfect target—high reward, low risk.

They were here for ‘Feng Bugui.’ Capture or kill, the merit would be theirs.

“In that case, I will make the first move. Wait for my good news.”

Lu Yutian, impatient and arrogant, didn’t wait for a response. His figure blurred, flashing across the gap and descending into Gu Xiu’s courtyard.

He was a Golden Core expert. Why should he fear a Qi Condensation ant?

As for the arrays?

He scoffed internally. His Blood Fiend Sect specialized in the ‘Blood-Stained Firmament’ technique, a vile power capable of polluting and dissolving any restrictive formation.

This merit was already in his pocket.