“Senior Brother, I am practicing my punches!”

Li Meng frowned, his confusion deepening.

Yao Ning possessed a Thunder Spirit Root—a Variant Spirit Root renowned for its destructive magical power. For such a cultivator to waste their potential on the brutal, unrefined path of body tempering was not just inefficient; it was a squandering of heaven’s gift.

“Why?” Li Meng asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

Yao Ning straightened from her awkward stance, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Master ordered me to cultivate three paths simultaneously: Body, Sword, and Art. First, I must temper my body with boxing, then master the sword, and finally integrate the spells.”

Li Meng’s expression shifted from confusion to contemplation.

‘Three paths simultaneously?’

He didn’t know what the Ancestor of Masked Moon Peak was thinking.

It wasn’t impossible, theoretically. Body Cultivators turned their flesh into divine weapons, their punches capable of overturning mountains and seas. Sword Cultivators honed their intent until a single slash could cleave the heavens. Art Cultivators manipulated Qi to pluck the stars and grasp the moon with unpredictable spells.

But each path was a bottomless pit of time, resources, and effort. To pursue one to the peak was the work of a lifetime. To pursue all three? That was the ambition of a madman—or a god.

“Junior Sister,” Li Meng asked, “what manuals are you cultivating?”

“For the body, the Hundred Steps Stance. For the sword, the Myriad Thunder Sword Technique. And for spells, the Thunder Firmament True Art!”

Li Meng’s brow furrowed. Hundred Steps Stance? Myriad Thunder Sword Technique? Thunder Firmament True Art? He had never heard of these manuals. They weren’t in the standard repository of the Joyous Union Sect.

The Ancestor was a Nascent Soul cultivator. Her understanding of the Dao far outstripped Li Meng’s own foundation. If she ordered this, there had to be a reason. He wouldn’t arrogantly interfere with her guidance.

But he could accelerate it.

Li Meng waved his sleeve. A golden talisman shot out, soaring a hundred meters into the sky above the courtyard.

It was a Top-Grade Tier 2 Lightning Attraction Talisman.

Dark clouds congregated rapidly, swirling above the pavilion with unnatural speed. The air grew heavy with static, the scent of ozone filling the garden.

Yao Ning stopped her practice, looking up in confusion. “Senior Brother? Is it going to rain?”

CRACK!

A bolt of lightning, thick as a python, exploded from the clouds. It slammed into Yao Ning before she could blink.

“Ah!”

She screamed as the electricity ravaged her body. Her long black hair puffed out into a frizzy halo, and her graceful figure stiffened, toppling to the ground like a felled tree.

CRACK!

Another bolt descended, striking her prone form. Her body twitched violently, smoke curling from her clothes.

“Senior Brother!” she gasped, coughing up a puff of black smoke. “You… you’re bullying me!”

She scrambled to her feet, face covered in soot, eyes wide with indignation.

CRACK!

A third bolt hammered her, forcing her to her knees.

Li Meng sat comfortably at the tea table, stroking his chin with a sage-like smile.

“Junior Sister, you possess a Thunder Spirit Root. Lightning is not your enemy; it is your fuel. Using heavenly lightning to temper your body will yield twice the results with half the effort.”

His gaze sharpened, his voice turning stern.

“Get up. Continue your stance. While you endure the lightning, circulate your Sword Art and Art Cultivation method simultaneously. Split your mind in three. If you cannot do even this, then abandon the path of three-method cultivation. You are not worthy of it!”

Not worthy?

Yao Ning glared at him. He sat there, sipping his tea, looking for all the world like a wealthy young master watching a play.

Anger flared in her chest, hot and defiant. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand, her legs trembling.

She would show him. She would show them all.

CRACK!

Another bolt struck. Her body seized, but she didn’t fall. She took a step forward, throwing a punch into the empty air while mentally reciting the mantras of the Myriad Thunder Sword Technique.

One step. One punch. One bolt of lightning.

Li Meng watched her progress, a faint smile touching his lips.

Who said women were inferior to men? This girl had grit. Perhaps her future achievements would indeed shock the world.

Masked Moon Peak. Summit Pavilion, Viewing Platform.

Two figures sat opposite each other, the high-altitude winds ruffling their robes.

Ruoshui stared toward Moon Gaze Peak, her beautiful eyes filled with complexity.

“Master,” she asked softly, “why didn’t you let me tell him the truth directly?”

Nangong Wan, the Supreme Elder, picked up her teacup. Her veil, usually opaque to the eye, seemed to turn immaterial as she brought the cup to her lips.

“A Master’s command and a disciple’s voluntary action are two different things,” she said, her voice melodic and distant.

Ruoshui turned back to her. “Master, what do you think of his character?”

Nangong Wan looked toward Moon Gaze Peak, her gaze piercing through the clouds and distance.

“Hard to say.”

Ruoshui lowered her head, staring at her reflection in the tea.

It was indeed hard to define Li Meng. Was he upright? Hardly. He collected women like trophies, indulging in romance despite his inability to cultivate. It seemed purely hedonistic.

But was he wicked? No. He cared deeply for his fellow disciples. He treated the women of Masked Moon Peak with sincerity and respect. He honored his Master and the Ancestor without fail.

“Everyone has their vices,” Nangong Wan said gently. “You need not dwell on it. If he were a flawless piece of jade, I wouldn’t have asked you to take him in. As long as he isn’t evil, being a little lustful is harmless.”

A faint smile touched her lips beneath the veil. “In fact, if he weren’t lustful, your eldest disciple might have died of despair long ago. I don’t fear his impropriety; I fear he might be too proper. Thankfully, he hasn’t disappointed me. The women he connects with… they change for the better. And he never fails them.”

She sighed. “The relationships in the Joyous Union Sect are too cold, too transactional. That is what I dislike most.”

Ruoshui nodded slowly, accepting the wisdom. Then she frowned. “Master… isn’t the three-method cultivation too reckless for Junior Sister Yao?”

Asking a Foundation Establishment disciple to walk three paths simultaneously seemed like setting her up for failure. It felt like sabotage.

Nangong Wan glanced at her disciple, her eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge.

“Ruoshui. All Variant Spirit Root cultivators are potential reincarnations of ancient heavenly gods. But potential is just that—potential. To awaken it, one must forge a foundation so solid it defies reason. She must chase the unique opportunity of the Great Dao.”

Ruoshui’s eyes widened. Reincarnations of heavenly gods?

Nangong Wan smiled, sipping her tea.

“The Tianlan Continent is small,” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of eons. “We are merely a subordinate territory of the Upper Continent. There, the collapse of the Ancient Heavenly Court is no secret. But… that is a story for another time. The world is vast, Ruoshui. Vaster and more complex than you can imagine. If you want to know the truth, then survive. One day, you will see how beautiful and terrifying this universe truly is. A few hundred years of life… it is not enough.”

Ruoshui looked back toward Moon Gaze Peak, her Master’s words echoing in her mind.

Survive.

The world was vast. The Joyous Union Sect was a tiny cage. And she, a Golden Core cultivator, was still just a frog at the bottom of a well.