Time flowed like water. In the blink of an eye, a month had passed.

Inside the master bedroom of the Qin Estate, the air was thick with the scent of spirit incense. The curling smoke created a tranquil, ethereal haze, settling the mind and sharpening focus.

Qin Lu sat at his redwood desk, the talisman brush in his right hand moving with fluid precision.

He was crafting a [Golden Light Talisman].

As a First Rank High-Grade talisman, the materials required were a significant step up from the cheap supplies of his early days. The flimsy yellow paper had been replaced by cured demon beast hide, tough as leather and rich in texture. The ink was no longer simple mineral paste, but a specially treated emulsion of beast blood.

Only materials of this caliber could withstand the intense spiritual pressure of high-grade inscriptions.

Naturally, the prep work for such materials was tedious. Raw hides from the market came bloody and erratic in thickness, requiring hours of cleaning and treating.

Qin Lu, however, never worried about that. He had long since outsourced the grunt work to Feng Xi, fully embracing his role as a wicked capitalist exploiter.

…

“Done.”

Qin Lu lifted his brush with a flourish. The [Golden Light Talisman] before him pulsed with a faint, steady rhythm of spiritual power. He nodded in satisfaction.

Since his proficiency had hit “Grandmaster,” failure had become a concept of the past. Every single output was of pristine quality.

He stood up and stretched, his joints popping.

While his efficiency had skyrocketed and the Qi cost had dropped, the mental fatigue remained. Channeling spiritual consciousness for hours left his head throbbing with a dull ache.

Rubbing his temples, his gaze fell upon two books resting on the corner of his desk. His mood instantly soured.

A Comprehensive Guide to Artifact Refining for Beginners. Manual for Novice Alchemists.

Over the past month, he had tried to diversify his skillset. He had studied the texts, run small tests, and finally attempted to refine an actual artifact.

The result had been a catastrophe—worse than his alchemy attempts.

Twelve attempts. Twelve failures. Six hundred Spirit Stones worth of materials incinerated. The final attempt hadn’t just failed; it had detonated, blasting his crafting table into splinters.

The verdict was clear: He had zero talent for Artificing. He was even worse at it than Alchemy.

“Sigh. I really am just an ordinary guy,” Qin Lu muttered, shaking his head. “Without the proficiency panel, I’d have starved in a ditch long ago.”

He wasn’t one of those one-in-a-million geniuses. He was a grinder.

His eyes drifted back to the Alchemy manual.

“I failed eight times with the pills, but I did manage to condense the medicinal liquid at the end,” he mused. “I was only one step away. Maybe there’s hope…”

“Should I have Steward Chen buy more Spirit Rice tomorrow? If I can actually produce [Fasting Pills], the profit margins would dwarf the talisman business.”

“It’s worth considering… but first, cultivation.”

Qin Lu pushed the thoughts aside and walked to the rush cushion in the center of the room. He sat cross-legged and activated the small formation embedded in the mat.

A faint hum resonated as the cushion began to gather the ambient Qi. It was a sixty-stone artifact, and while the boost was minimal, it was better than nothing.

Wealthy clans hire Formation Masters to inscribe proper Spirit Gathering Arrays in their homes, he thought enviously. I wonder what that costs? If it’s reasonable, I should get one.

Actually, being a Formation Master seems lucrative… Should I buy a book on that, too?

With these scattered thoughts drifting through his mind, Qin Lu closed his eyes.

Thousands of cycles had burned the cultivation route into his spiritual muscle memory. He didn’t even need to focus; with a simple thought, the technique activated.

The serpent of Qi in his dantian, now many times larger since he reached the Late Qi Refining stage, surged through his meridians. It scoured his body, strengthening his flesh and bone with every rotation.

Qin Lu could feel the energy in his dantian becoming dense, heavy, and viscous. It was reaching critical mass, ready to overflow and flood his entire system—the hallmark of the Foundation Establishment realm.

…

As the cycle reached its peak, Qin Lu’s brows suddenly furrowed.

A strange, familiar sensation erupted from deep within his marrow and flooded his brain.

The Qi inside him roared, expanding violently. The circulation speed doubled, then tripled!

“Here it comes!” Qin Lu’s heart skipped a beat, panic mixing with elation. “It’s getting bigger and faster!”

The technique was leveling up.

The joy was short-lived, replaced instantly by agony. It felt as though a heavy-duty truck were running him over, forward and reverse, grinding his bones to dust.

The relaxed expression on his face shattered. His skin turned paper-white, and sweat burst from every pore, soaking his robes in seconds.

It wasn’t just his muscles; his internal organs felt like they were being hammered on an anvil.

“Hold it together!” Qin Lu gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.

He knew the drill. This hell would last exactly the time it took for one incense stick to burn. If he endured, the reward would be a permanent boost to his cultivation speed.

Time dilated. Under the assault of the pain, every second felt like an hour.

But slowly, the hammering faded. The agony receded like a tide, replaced by a warm, nourishing current that washed over his battered nerves.

Qin Lu’s brow relaxed. The ordeal was over.

He opened his eyes, wiping away the sweat that stung his vision, and exhaled a long, heavy breath.

With a thought, he pulled up his interface.

[Mystic Sun Mantra (Legend): 1/∞]

“It leveled up.” A grin spread across his face. “Now, let’s see how much faster I can devour Qi.”

He stood up, peeling the sodden clothes from his skin and tossing them into the corner. Naked, he walked to the wooden bathtub in the adjacent washroom and hopped in.

Splash!

Water sloshed over the rim, soaking the floorboards.

It was July, the height of summer. The water had been sitting for a while and had turned uncomfortably tepid.

Qin Lu frowned. “This won’t do.”

He opened his mouth and exhaled sharply.

Whoosh.

A stream of white frost shot from his lips, striking the water’s surface. Mist curled upward, and in an instant, the bathwater chilled to a refreshing, icy temperature.

“Mmm. Now that is a summer bath.” Qin Lu leaned back, satisfied.

This was a new trick: the [Ice Qi Technique].

He had picked up a miscellaneous spellbook at the market recently. It was cheap, so he bought it on a whim. After some study, he’d managed to learn two minor spells.

The first was the cooling breath. The second was…

Qin Lu raised his right hand, curling his fingers into a claw. As he channeled his Qi, a small, erratic ball of purple light materialized in his palm.

Zzzzt. Pop.

Arcs of electricity jumped between his fingers, sounding like a dying bug zapper.

[Lightning Strike Technique].

It was an offensive spell. It was simple to cast, and Qin Lu had always harbored a secret desire to wield the power of a Thunder God.

Currently, however, the lightning was pathetic. It looked barely strong enough to jump-start a dead battery, let alone kill a cultivator.

“It’s just Level 1,” Qin Lu assured himself. “Once I grind the proficiency, this thing will definitely summon apocalyptic thunder.”

Just as he was playing with the sparks in the bath, Steward Chen’s voice drifted through the door, announcing a visitor.

Qin Lu paused, letting the lightning fade.

The visitor was none other than Gu Can, who had been missing for a month.