For three months, Qin Lu lived the life of a hermit in the desolate wilds.

His existence had been stripped down to its barest essentials: eat, sleep, cultivate, repeat. He slept on cold stone, ate flavorless pills, and spoke to no one.

Without the amenities of civilization, his appearance deteriorated. His hair grew into a tangled mane, a thick beard obscured his face, and his fine robes turned to rags. To any observer, he was no longer a cultivator, but a savage of the mountains.

But beneath the grime, the pressure was building.

One morning, as the sun crested the peaks, Qin Lu woke with a start. A violent tremor seized his heart—not of fear, but of anticipation.

The spiritual energy in his dantian, usually a calm lake, began to boil. It surged through his meridians, leaking from his pores in visible wisps of light. The air around him shimmered, distorted by the raw power radiating from his body.

Suddenly, the world seemed to sharpen. The confusion and stagnation of the past few months vanished, replaced by a crystalline clarity.

“This is it,” Qin Lu thought, a sense of awe washing over him. “The Opportunity. They were right… words cannot describe this.”

He wasted no time. He returned to his meditation mat, assumed the lotus position, and closed his eyes.

He pulled the trigger.

Time lost all meaning. It could have been hours; it could have been days.

When Qin Lu finally opened his eyes, the cave was a disaster zone.

His supplies—bottles, jars, bedding, utensils—had been scattered against the walls as if a hurricane had detonated in the center of the room.

He looked down at his hands. He clenched his fist, and the air popped. A torrent of power, vast and terrifying, roared through his veins. It was no longer the vaporous Qi of the past, but something denser, heavier. Liquid power.

“Foundation Establishment.”

A wave of euphoria crashed over him. He started to chuckle, a low rumble that quickly escalated into a wild, uncontrollable roar of laughter that echoed off the stone walls.

“I did it! I finally did it!”

He leaped to his feet, energy crackling in his limbs. As he moved, he noticed a thick layer of black, foul-smelling sludge coating his skin—arms, chest, legs, even his face. The stench was horrific.

“Marrow cleansing,” he realized. The texts had promised this: the expulsion of mortal impurities, a biological rebirth.

He tore the rags from his body, standing naked in the gloom. He took a step toward the entrance and nearly floated into the ceiling.

“So light…”

The gravity of the world seemed to have loosened its grip on him. On a whim, he willed himself upward.

His feet left the ground.

No artifacts. No [Object Control Technique]. Just his will, commanding his body to defy the earth. He hovered in the center of the cave, weightless and free.

“Incredible,” he whispered.

Then, he moved.

He shot toward the entrance like a bolt of lightning.

BOOM!

He didn’t bother moving the massive boulder sealing the cave. He simply kicked it. The stone exploded outward, showering the cliffside in shrapnel as sunlight flooded the chamber.

Qin Lu stood at the threshold, naked and grimed, squinting against the glare. The world outside was vibrant—the green of the grass, the scent of the pine, the warmth of the sun—all intensified by his enhanced senses.

“I’m back!”

With a shout that shook the trees, he leaped from the cliff.

SPLASH!

He hit the emerald pool like a cannonball, plunging into the icy depths.

The water was a balm, scrubbing away the filth of his transformation. He surfaced, slicking his wet hair back, and sighed in pure contentment.

“Now that is refreshing.”

He scrubbed his skin raw, peeling away the layers of black sludge to reveal the new flesh underneath. His skin, once bronze, was now paler, possessing a jade-like luster. It was the skin of a youth, flawless and resilient.

Using his spiritual energy, he condensed a blade of water and shaved off his beard. He trimmed his wild hair, restoring a semblance of order to his appearance.

He looked at his reflection in the water. The savage was gone. A young man stared back—sharp, vibrant, and overflowing with vitality.

“Foundation Establishment really does turn back the clock,” he mused.

He closed his eyes, examining his internal state. His dantian had expanded into a vast ocean, and the spiritual energy within was thick and potent. The speed of his circulation had tripled. Spells that once required preparation now felt instantaneous, as natural as breathing.

“The difference is night and day,” he murmured. “If I fought my past self now… I’d kill him in ten moves.”

WOOSH!

He exploded from the water, ascending into the sky on a pillar of spray. He arched through the air, landing gracefully back in his cave.

He dressed in fresh robes and quickly packed his scattered belongings into his [Storage Bag]. He moved with efficiency, his mind already leaving this place.

When he was done, he stood at the entrance one last time. He looked back at the stone room that had been his prison and cocoon for three months. He felt no nostalgia, only the cold satisfaction of a job done.

He stepped out and took flight.

This time, he didn’t summon the Flying Cloud Paper. He simply rose, his body cutting through the air, propelled by his own power.

The freedom was intoxicating.

As he climbed higher, soaring above the canopy, a song burst from his throat. It was a nameless, raucous tune, bellowed at the top of his lungs, startling flocks of birds into flight.

In the Qi Refining realm, flying was a risk. A cultivator in the air was a target, a slow-moving meal for any avian beast.

But a Foundation Establishment cultivator was a predator of the sky. He could maneuver, he could fight, he could kill.

Qin Lu ascended to the clouds, looking down at the world spread out beneath him. The mountains, the forests, the dangers that had once terrified him—they all seemed small now.

He had leaped the Dragon Gate.

The wind whipped against his face, and every cell in his body sang with power.

“I AM A FOUNDATION ESTABLISHMENT CULTIVATOR!” he roared to the heavens.