Time flowed quietly over Green Mountain, passing like a silent stream through a gorge. In the blink of an eye, a month had vanished.

Deep inside the cave dwelling, within the austere stone walls of the meditation chamber, Chen Ping slowly opened his eyes. His brow was furrowed in mild frustration.

He opened his hand. Resting in his palm was a milky-white sphere the size of a longan fruit, radiating a soft, medicinal fragrance.

A Zhenyuan Pill.

This was the third one he had consumed this week.

He was pushing his luck.

For a cultivator at his level, two pills a week was the optimal dosage. Taking a third risked the accumulation of Pill Toxin. If he maintained this frequency, the residue would eventually clog his meridians, causing irreversible damage to his foundation.

He swallowed it regardless.

The medicinal energy dissolved in his stomach, transforming into a warm thermal current that surged through his limbs and bones before converging on his Dantian.

However, the sensation was underwhelming. It felt like a light drizzle falling into a deep abyss—barely able to stir a single ripple.

Inside his Dantian’s Sea of Qi, the six drops of liquid True Essence—the bedrock of his cultivation—swirled around his Dao Foundation, nourishing it, urging it to expand.

Yet, after a full month of aggressive cultivation, the growth was negligible.

To reach the Second Layer of Foundation Establishment, he needed to condense new True Essence and fuse it into the Dao Foundation. This would strengthen the structure, force the Dantian to expand, and shatter the bottleneck restricting his capacity.

The Dao Foundation acted as a pillar. It propped open the Dantian while simultaneously compressing the body’s energy, making it dense enough to break through limits.

Chen Ping knew his Five Elements Waste Spirit Root would drag him down… but this was ridiculous.

The Zhenyuan Pill was a Tier 2 resource specifically designed for Foundation Establishment cultivators. The effects should have been explosive.

But the reality?

He analyzed the absorption efficiency with cold calculation.

“Five or six times the normal speed… is that all?”

He muttered to himself, his voice heavy.

What did this metric imply?

It meant that without a miraculous encounter or significantly higher-grade pills, it would take him three to five years just to advance from Layer 1 to Layer 2.

For a cultivator with average talent, that speed was acceptable—perhaps even cause for celebration.

But for Chen Ping, it was suffocatingly slow.

His Spirit Root was a shackle he couldn’t shake.

He stood up, pushing open the stone door of the meditation room and stepping out onto the viewing platform.

The morning mist still clung to the peaks, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of damp vegetation.

Below the platform, the Spirit Fields had undergone a complete transformation.

The hardened, neglected earth had been tilled into soft, fertile soil. The weeds were gone, and the ridges had been straightened with geometric precision, looking as if they had been drawn with a ruler.

In the fields, Shan Yu and Yao Min were bent over their work. They carefully manipulated their Qi to guide vibrant green seedlings—each about half a foot tall—into the soil. Their spacing was mathematically perfect.

They planted row by row, their efficiency impressive.

Chen Ping nodded in satisfaction.

This prime plot of Spirit Field should have been reserved for high-value crops—Tier 1 staples like Spirit Gathering Grass or Cold Star Grass.

Instead, Chen Ping had ordered them to plant Spirit Rice, the cheapest and most common crop.

This was a calculated move. He needed a benchmark.

Spirit Rice had a stable, predictable growth cycle of one year. It was the perfect control variable to measure the land’s potential. By observing the rice, he could determine exactly how much the Spirit Vein and the soil fertility boosted growth.

Was it a 10% acceleration? 30%? Or more?

This data was crucial. It would dictate his future agricultural strategy and yield projections.

A master builder does not lay bricks on unmeasured ground.

“Master!”

Yao Min straightened up, spotting Chen Ping on the platform. she flashed a bright, sunny smile, completely unaware of the mud speckling her cheek.

“Look at these seedlings! The root systems are robust, and the rainfall this year has been excellent. We’re going to have a bumper harvest!”

Chen Ping’s gaze swept over the emerald green rice paddies, then past them to the secondary fields being cleared, and finally to the shaded, moisture-rich plots he had earmarked for special herbs.

Green Mountain was being tamed. Order was emerging from chaos.

“Mm. Well done,” Chen Ping nodded, his tone gentle.

The mountain breeze fluttered his robes, cooling his skin, but it couldn’t blow away the heaviness in his heart regarding his cultivation speed.

The fields were thriving. His Dantian was stagnating.

Green Mountain was his base of operations, but personal power was the only thing that guaranteed survival.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

He needed to visit the Sect.

The Zhenyuan Pills were insufficient. He needed to find a stronger alternative, something potent enough to brute-force its way through his poor aptitude. Or perhaps a secret technique to improve absorption efficiency.

Just as he made this decision, a faint sound drifted up from the stone path leading down the mountain.

Footsteps.

They were light, almost merging with the wind, but possessed a steady, unhurried rhythm.

Chen Ping looked down.

At the end of the stone steps, a figure materialized from the mist.

The wind tugged at her moon-white skirt, outlining a tall, slender silhouette. Sunlight poured over her without obstruction, giving her pale, porcelain skin a translucent, ethereal glow.

Her hair was a cascade of black silk; her features were picturesque. Her temperament remained as cool and aloof as ever, but compared to her days in the Hundred Herb Garden, she now carried an air of serene nobility.

She looked like a solitary orchid blooming in a deep valley—untainted by the dust of the mortal world.

It was Bai Zhi.

Their eyes met.

There was no awkwardness. No polite formalities. No dramatic outpouring of emotion.

Chen Ping’s heart felt like a calm lake disturbed by a single pebble—a brief ripple that quickly settled back into tranquility.

A sense of familiarity washed over him. The years of separation seemed to evaporate, leaving only the bond of old friends.

Looking at the radiant woman before him, Chen Ping felt a deep, settled gratitude and genuine respect.

Respect for the kindness she had shown him when he was nothing.

“Well?”

Bai Zhi’s lips curved slightly. Her cool voice carried a hint of teasing as her gaze flicked to the crude, open cave entrance behind him.

“An old friend climbs all this way to see you, and you’re going to let me stand at the door drinking the wind?”

Chen Ping snapped out of his trance, quickly stepping aside.

“Old friend. Please, come in.”

His voice carried a relaxed tone he hadn’t even realized was missing.

Inside the cave, Chen Dashan and Madam Lin were sitting on stone stools, cracking open wild nuts they had foraged from the mountain.

When their son walked in leading a woman who looked like a celestial fairy, they both froze. The nuts nearly tumbled from their hands.

“Father, Mother,” Chen Ping introduced. “This is Bai Zhi. She is an old acquaintance from my time at the Hundred Herb Garden. She helped me a great deal back then.”

A polite, gentle smile bloomed on Bai Zhi’s face. She gave a slight, graceful bow to the elderly couple.

“Uncle, Aunt. I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Oh my! No intrusion, no intrusion at all! Please, sit!”

Madam Lin was the first to react. She scrambled to her feet in a flurry of hospitality, vigorously wiping a nearby stone stool with her sleeve.

“Young lady, sit here! Old man, what are you standing there for? Go get the jar of good tea from the cabinet! And the Crisp-Heart Fruits we picked yesterday—the washed ones! Bring them out!”

Chen Dashan jumped up, his face piled high with an honest, simple grin. He muttered agreements as he rushed off to prepare the snacks.

The simple, crude stone cave seemed to brighten instantly with her presence.