Bang!
Jin Wei slammed the table, his face dark with fury.
"Lin, if you don't give me a damn good explanation, you won't leave this room with all your teeth intact!"
His voice rumbled like thunder, his fingers clenching into fists. The air in the study seemed to crackle with his barely contained rage.
Yet, across from him, Uncle Lin merely leaned back in his chair, unfazed. He held a cup of untouched tea in one hand, his expression calm and amused.
"Old Wei," he sighed, shaking his head. "You didn't even offer me tea, yet you’re already threatening me? Is this how you treat an old friend?"
His carefree tone only made Jin Wei angrier.
"You’ve been back for a whole day, yet you didn’t come see me first. And instead of reporting your mission, you go and beat up my son?! Do you believe I won’t lope off your head right now?"
His killing intent surged, pressing down on Uncle Lin like a mountain.
But Uncle Lin simply snorted. "Hah! Go ahead, try it. Let’s see if you have the guts."
Jin Wei's eyes twitched. This bastard—!
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"Even if Yu’er is useless," he muttered, voice laced with frustration, "he is still my son. Who gave you the right—"
"Sigh! Old man, why are you acting like I chewed a piece of his flesh?" Uncle Lin interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I was just testing his skills. Do you really want to wait until he’s a helpless waste before you decide to train him properly?"
Jin Wei fell silent.
He recognized that look in Lin’s eyes.
It was the same look they both had decades ago—when they were just two desperate young warriors fighting to survive in a ruthless world.
"Lin..." Jin Wei exhaled deeply.
He understood his friend’s intentions.
But when he remembered his son’s agonizing cries, the way Jin Yu’s body had been swollen and bruised, his heart clenched with guilt.
Uncle Lin softened his tone.
"Yu’er wouldn’t want his mother to see him like that."
Jin Wei’s gaze darkened. A shadow of pain and sorrow flickered through his eyes.
Seeing this, Uncle Lin quickly changed the topic. "As for Jin Ni, I’m still finding the best place for her."
Then, his voice grew solemn.
"Both your children must surpass your legacy, Wei. It’s a must."
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Jin Wei remained silent.
Then, after a long pause, he finally asked, "How is the Dark Field?"
Uncle Lin’s expression turned grim. "Ten years… if luck is on our side. If not—" He didn’t finish his sentence, but Jin Wei already knew.
Ten years.
In a cultivation world, that was barely any time at all.
Jin Wei clenched his fists. "What about the other old men?"
"They’re more than ready."
"Good." Jin Wei’s tone was low and heavy. After a moment, he let out a long sigh. "You should rest. You’ve worked hard."
Uncle Lin smirked. "Spare me the formalities, old man. This is our responsibility."
With that, he stood and walked away.
---
Jin Yu lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The room smelled of medicine and pain.
His body ached all over,
but the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.
'Did those novels lie to me?'
A tear rolled down his cheek.
'Aren’t young masters supposed to live carefree lives? Drinking wine, spending money, being arrogant? Why is my situation so different?'
'I’ve been beaten twice since I arrived. Twice! I didn’t sign up for this!'
His hands trembled. He wanted to scream. He wanted to leave.
'I just… want to go back to Earth.'
'I can’t endure this every week. I just can’t.'
His chest tightened, but before he could spiral any further—
"Young Master, please stop crying."
Haozi’s choked voice cut through the silence.
Jin Yu turned his head slightly and saw the boy’s tear-streaked face.
"Uncle Lin has always been ruthless on the battlefield," Haozi continued, sniffling. "This is just… the first time he’s been this harsh on you."
Jin Ni, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke.
"Didn’t I tell you to be serious about cultivation?" Her voice was quiet, almost guilty. "Now, Uncle Lin has gotten mean to you."
For once, she didn’t sound mocking.
Jin Yu shut his eyes. His emotions were in turmoil, but there was one thing he was sure of.
"When will my body recover?"
"Three days, at most. I took the best medicine in the pharmacy." Haozi’s voice was gentle, but he seemed worried about Jin Yu’s cold tone.
Jin Yu nodded slightly.
"Okay. You both can leave."
They hesitated, but eventually, they left the room.
Jin Yu stared at his influence Points.
Influence Points: 10,109
He felt nothing.
No excitement. No joy. No smug satisfaction.
Just cold determination.
With a single thought, he began adding points.
Ding
Sanctum Sword Technique: Initial Stage reached.
Ding
Sanctum Sword Technique: Beginning Stage reached.
Ding
Sanctum Sword Technique: Mid Stage reached.
Ding
Sanctum Sword Technique: Late Stage reached.
Ding
Sanctum Sword Technique: Peak Stage reached.
The moment he hit the peak stage—
BOOM!
A thunderous roar erupted inside him, as if a dam had burst open.
A violent surge of energy crashed through his meridians like an unstoppable tidal wave.
His bones vibrated, his muscles stretched, his blood ignited.
Jin Yu’s body arched as a force beyond his control slammed into his very core. His veins bulged, glowing faintly, as if something ancient and powerful had awakened inside him.
His vision blurred—then sharpened.
Every sensation in his body amplified tenfold. He could hear the faintest shift in the air, feel the smallest tremor in the ground beneath him, sense the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat—except… it was no longer the same.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The steady rhythm of his heart had changed. It was deeper, stronger, heavier.
Each pulse sent a shockwave through his body, like the beat of a war drum echoing in the distance.
And his breath…
His breath was no longer just air.
Each inhale pulled in a refined, pure energy, weaving itself into his very being.
Each exhale felt like releasing a force that could cut through steel.
Then, the real transformation began.
His flesh trembled as his body reconstructed itself from the inside out. His wounds shrank at a terrifying rate, bruises fading into flawless skin. His muscles tightened, not growing bulkier, but becoming more defined—lean, sharp, controlled.
His spine straightened, his posture shifting naturally into perfect balance.
Jin Yu lifted a hand, staring at his palm.
His skin looked the same—yet different.
There was a strange clarity to it, as though his body had shed something unnecessary, leaving behind a version of himself that was closer to perfection.
He clenched his fist.
And power pulsed beneath his skin.
A new awareness flooded his mind—he knew how to wield the technique. The knowledge had been seared into his soul, as if he had spent years mastering it.
Jin Yu let out a slow breath.
His body had changed.
But so had he.
Slowly, he stepped toward the mirror.
His movements were silent. Unnaturally silent.
Not because he was trying to be—but because his body had reached a level of control he hadn’t possessed before.
Standing before the mirror, he unwrapped his bandages and dropped his robe.
What he saw stunned him.
His reflection… wasn’t the same.
His body was no longer swollen or bruised. His skin was smooth and unblemished, his form lean but powerful. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed.
It was his presence.
He looked… calm.
Too calm.
It wasn’t the calm of inexperience, but the calm of a storm before it strikes.
A chilling realization settled in his chest.
"I… feel like a sword."
The thought sent shivers down his spine.
Before he could dwell on it further, a strange itch crawled into his fingers.
An urge.
He lifted his hand.
A gentle, cool breeze followed the motion, wrapping around his palm.
It was soft. Controlled.
Yet beneath that gentleness, he could feel it—a sharpness hidden within.
Like the air before a blade strikes.
His breathing slowed.
He lowered his hand and placed it against the mirror.
For a second, nothing happened.
Two seconds, nothing happened
Three second, nothing happened
