“Hoo…”

A long, ragged breath finally escaped the depths of Chen Ping’s chest.

The tension that had held his body rigid snapped. A wave of exhaustion and vertigo crashed over him like a tsunami.

Black spots danced before his eyes. He swayed dangerously, nearly toppling off the kang bed.

Summoning the last dregs of his strength, he slowly withdrew his hands from his parents’ backs. As his palms broke contact, faint ripples of spiritual energy dissipated into the air.

Chen Ping slumped against the cold earthen wall. He gasped for air, his chest heaving like a broken bellows.

Sweat streamed down his temples, soaking his collar and pooling on the straw mat beneath him.

Every bone in his body felt pulverized. His meridians throbbed with a dull ache from the extreme over-extraction of spiritual power, and his Sea of Consciousness felt as though it were being stabbed with a thousand needles.

Yet, amidst the agony and exhaustion, his eyes burned with the profound relief of a survivor.

They were alive. They had all survived.

And not only that.

It worked.

The foundation of the Immortal Path had been laid.

The process had been a nightmare, far more perilous than he had calculated. The violent medicinal energy had ravaged his parents’ meridians, leaving them tattered. Their Dantians had been shaken, their souls withered to the brink of dissipation.

But the heart meridians held.

The core of the Dantian remained unbroken.

Most critically, amidst the ruins of their internal biology, those two vine-like Spirit Roots had taken hold. They were thick, solid, and rooted deep within the devastation.

Comparing them to what he had seen in Yuan Jingtian, these artificial roots were far superior.

This meant there was a possibility—a real chance—that his parents’ future Cultivation aptitude could surpass even Yuan Jingtian’s.

As long as they survived this critical window…

As long as he poured resources into repairing their meridians…

Foundation Establishment was no longer a fantasy. It was attainable.

Chen Ping leaned his head back against the wall, his eyelids feeling as heavy as lead weights. He didn’t dare sleep. Not yet.

He forced his mind to stay lucid. With trembling fingers, he fumbled at his waist, opening his storage bag. He pulled out a bottle of Origin Nourishing Pills. Without checking the count, he tipped several into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

The pills dissolved instantly. A faint warmth spread through his stomach, offering a trickle of moisture to his parched meridians. It was a drop in the bucket, but it was enough to keep him conscious.

He needed deep meditation to truly recover.

“Yuan Jingtian!”

Chen Ping’s voice was like sandpaper, hoarse and weak, yet it carried an undeniable command.

Almost instantly, a figure flickered into the doorway.

Yuan Jingtian had been standing guard in the courtyard, his nerves frayed by the aura of blood and decay that had seeped from the room all night. Hearing the summons, he rushed in.

“My Lord!”

Yuan Jingtian’s eyes widened.

He saw the horrific state of Chen Dashan and Lin Shi on the kang—soaked in black blood, looking like corpses dragged from a swamp. Then he looked at Chen Ping.

The young man was slumped against the wall, his face paper-white, his aura visibly withered.

But Yuan Jingtian froze.

Even in this weakened state, the spiritual pressure emanating from Chen Ping was terrifyingly deep. It was the unmistakable pressure of the Qi Condensation Ninth Layer.

Compared to the Seventh Layer cultivator Yuan had fought a year ago, this was a world of difference.

In just one year, Chen Ping had advanced this much?

Whatever Immortal Fate he possessed… it was beyond imagination.

The last remnants of ambition or treacherous thought in Yuan Jingtian’s heart were instantly pulverized. Fear took their place. He couldn’t even conceive of stealing Chen Ping’s fortune now; the gap was too wide.

“Guard my parents.”

Chen Ping lifted his heavy eyelids. His gaze was sharp, stabbing straight into Yuan Jingtian’s soul.

“Do not leave their side for a single second. If there is any movement, wake me immediately.”

His voice was faint, but the authority was absolute.

“Yes, my Lord! Rest assured!” Yuan Jingtian bowed deeply, his posture screaming submission. “I will stake my life on their safety!”

Chen Ping gave him a long, measuring look, then closed his eyes.

He understood Yuan Jingtian perfectly. The intimidation was sufficient. Before, the man’s loyalty was forced by a poison pill. Now, it was forced by overwhelming power.

Chen Ping began to circulate the Evergreen Art. He guided the medicinal power of the Origin Nourishing Pills, repairing his depleted spiritual energy and soothing his stinging mind.

Time blurred.

When he opened his eyes again, the harsh light of noon was cutting through the window.

His dry meridians had recovered perhaps thirty percent of their capacity. The stabbing pain in his soul had dulled to a manageable ache.

He looked at the bed.

Chen Dashan and Lin Shi were still unconscious, but their breathing had stabilized. It was no longer the erratic gasping of the dying, but the steady, shallow rhythm of recovery.

The black blood on their skin had dried into a crust.

Chen Ping extended his Divine Sense for another check.

Inside them, the vine Spirit Roots were stable. Without any Cultivation technique to guide them, they couldn’t store Qi, but they were instinctively drawing faint wisps of energy from the air. This energy was slowly seeping into their damaged flesh, nourishing the ruin.

Heart meridians stable. Dantian core intact. Spirit Roots functioning.

The crisis was over.

The wire-taut tension in Chen Ping’s chest finally uncoiled.

He flipped his hand, retrieving a jade bottle from his storage bag. It was the bottle that had contained the Qi Gathering Pills. There were still plenty left.

Without looking, he tossed it through the air.

“Catch.”

Chen Ping’s voice was steady again.

Yuan Jingtian scrambled to catch the bottle, looking confused.

“You’ve likely exhausted your own supply of pills,” Chen Ping said flatly. “There are thirty Qi Gathering Pills in there. You’ve been stuck at the peak of the Sixth Layer for too long. Break through to the Seventh Layer within six months.”

Yuan Jingtian pulled the stopper. A rich, potent medicinal fragrance exploded into the room—far purer and stronger than the Low-grade pills he was used to scrounging for.

These were Mid-grade Qi Gathering Pills.

Thirty of them.

Shock and ecstasy flooded his brain. He jerked his head up, staring at Chen Ping with disbelief.

“My… My Lord! This… this is too precious! I…”

“Take it.”

Chen Ping cut him off. His tone was indifferent, yet heavy with implication.

“I need you stronger. Once we enter the Qingyun Sect’s Outer Sect… it may look peaceful, but trouble is everywhere. I need a tool that doesn’t break.”

Yuan Jingtian’s heart hammered against his ribs. His fingers trembled as he clutched the bottle.

Thirty Mid-grade pills! This was a fortune. It was enough to force a breakthrough.

But more importantly, he understood the message.

Chen Ping needed him. Chen Ping was willing to invest in him.

He was no longer just a prisoner or a slave. He was part of the inner circle.

“Yes! Thank you for your great kindness, My Lord!”

Yuan Jingtian dropped to one knee, clasping his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. His voice shook with a mix of greed, gratitude, and awe.

“I will not let you down! Within six months, I will break through to the Seventh Layer or die trying!”

At this moment, Yuan Jingtian had no other thoughts. He was a believer.

“Mmm.”

Chen Ping acknowledged him with a noncommittal sound, his gaze already drifting back to his parents.

Grace and severity. The leash was secure.

He needed Yuan Jingtian to be strong. In the Outer Sect, having a capable enforcer was essential. But more than that, his parents needed a bodyguard—someone powerful enough to protect them during this fragile transition period before they could cultivate for themselves.