The "support" of the Soaring Cloud Sect was a double-edged sword, and its weight settled on Li Yao's shoulders immediately. His new status as a Core Formation disciple and a candidate for the Inner Sect came with privileges, but also with a glaring, inescapable spotlight.
He was assigned a private courtyard, a significant upgrade from the communal dormitory. It was spacious, with a small garden for growing spiritual herbs and a dedicated meditation chamber reinforced with Qi-gathering formations. It was also undoubtedly monitored. He could feel the faint, almost imperceptible threads of spiritual awareness woven into the very walls—the sect's way of keeping tabs on its promising assets.
His days were no longer his own. Mornings were no longer for basic conditioning but for advanced combat drills with other Core Formation disciples. The instructor, a grim-faced man named Feng with a scar across his throat, had no patience for "unorthodox nuances." He drilled them in the sect's signature techniques: the [Soaring Cloud Palm], the [Mist-Wreathed Step], the [Seven Thrusting Swords Art].
Li Yao practiced them with a flawless, mechanical precision that earned him grudging nods from Feng. But in the privacy of his monitored courtyard, he deconstructed them with the System.
"[Soaring Cloud Palm]: Utilizes broad, sweeping energy projections. Inefficient. 32% of energy is wasted in lateral dispersal. Optimized Variation: [Converging Cloud Palm]. Focus energy into a 20% smaller impact area for 75% greater penetration."
He didn't dare practice the optimized versions openly. To do so would be to confirm Elder Guo's suspicions that he was more than just a curious talent. He was a system, and that was a secret he had to guard with his life. So, he became a master of mimicry, performing the sect's techniques with perfect, orthodox mediocrity.
His afternoons were spent in the Grand Scripture Repository's first floor, now accessible to him. The air was thick with the dust of ages and the faint scent of immortal peaches used to preserve the scrolls. He devoured everything, not for the techniques, but for the foundational knowledge. Scrolls on elemental theory, meridian mapping, the history of the Azure Bloom Kingdom and its neighboring empires, bestiaries of demonic beasts.
The System absorbed it all, cross-referencing, expanding its database, filling in the gaps of this world's cosmology. It was through this research that he found a tantalizing, dangerous clue. A fragmented scroll, tucked away in a corner, mentioned the "Void-Whispering Orchid," a legendary herb said to bloom only in spatial rifts and grant the consumer a temporary, profound sensitivity to the laws of space. It was a key ingredient for a cultivator aiming to comprehend the Law Path. And according to a passing mention in a regional geography text, a spatial anomaly had been detected in the deepest part of the Whispering Fang Forest, one that pulsed with a strange energy every century.
The next one was due in three months. Coinciding perfectly with the Inner Sect exam.
It was a goal, a true treasure that aligned with his ultimate path. But the deepest parts of the Whispering Fang Forest were the domain of Core Formation beasts and rogue cultivators. It was a suicide mission for a new Core Formation disciple.
He needed to get stronger, fast. And the sect's controlled resources were a leash, preventing him from doing so.
This was where Wang Jin became useful again.
He found the Young Master in one of the public cultivation caves, his face a mask of strain and pain. The Stellar Core Method was taking its toll. Wang Jin's aura was a mess of conflicting energies—the heavy grounding of the meteorite essence and the wild crackle of the python's blood, refusing to harmonize.
"You're forcing it," Li Yao said, his voice echoing softly in the cave.
Wang Jin's eyes snapped open, blazing with hatred and exhaustion. "What do you want? Come to gloat?"
"To observe," Li Yao corrected. "The method requires a catalyst to force the stellar ignition. You're trying to use brute will. It won't work. You need an external source of conflict, a pressure greater than what you can generate internally."
He tossed a small, rough-cut crystal to Wang Jin. It was a "Rift-Shard," a mineral he had acquired through his grey-market contacts. It emitted a low-level, chaotic spatial vibration.
"Channel your energy through that as you attempt the ignition. It will destabilize your energy field, creating the necessary chaos for the fusion."
Wang Jin caught the shard, suspicion warring with desperate hope. "Why help me?"
"Because a failed Core Formation is a waste of my time and your father's investment," Li Yao said, his tone clinical. "And because the Inner Sect exam is in three months. I need competent allies, not dead weight."
It was a lie, of course. He needed Wang Jin to succeed because a successful, powerful Wang Jin was a bigger, brighter target. He was a lightning rod for attention and resentment, drawing fire away from Li Yao's own, more secretive activities.
Wang Jin, blinded by his need, took the bait. He clutched the Rift-Shard, a new, feverish determination in his eyes.
As Li Yao left the cave, the System provided an update.
"Target has accepted the catalyst. Probability of successful Stellar Core Formation increased to 58%. Probability of latent spatial instability in the resulting core: 92%. The resulting core will be powerful but inherently flawed, requiring future intervention."
Perfect. Li Yao was not just creating a powerful pawn; he was creating a dependent one. Wang Jin's future cultivation would be tied to Li Yao's knowledge of spatial law, a field he was only beginning to explore himself.
Over the next week, Li Yao focused on his own cultivation, using the sect's Mid-Grade Spirit Stones and the Qi-gathering formation in his courtyard. It was slow, steady progress, solidifying his Early Stage Core. But it was not enough. He needed a leap.
He began spending his evenings not in cultivation, but in the sect's alchemy hall, volunteering for the most tedious tasks: sorting herbs, cleaning cauldrons, monitoring low-grade pill furnaces. The alchemists, arrogant and overworked, were happy to have a Core Formation disciple performing scut work.
They didn't realize they were giving a spy access to their entire operation.
Li Yao watched everything. The recipes, the fire-control sequences, the spiritual seals they used to lock in efficacy. The System recorded it all, analyzing, optimizing.
"Sect's 'Qi-Gathering Pill' recipe: Inefficient. Heat cycle during 'Spirit-Mist Grass' integration is 15 degrees too high, destroying 20% of the active compounds. Suggested correction..."
"Sect's 'Bone-Forging Elixir': Impure. Residual metallic toxins from the 'Iron-Root' are not fully purged, leading to long-term meridian sclerosis. Proposed filtration method..."
He didn't steal their recipes. He learned their flaws. And in the dead of night, within the shielded confines of his courtyard, using materials purchased with his own funds and the last of Wang Zhong's initial investment, he began to craft his own.
He wasn't making pills for sale. He was making fuel for his ascent. Purified, hyper-efficient, custom-tailored supplements that would accelerate his cultivation without the tell-tale spiritual residue of the sect's inferior products.
He was walking a razor's edge. Playing the loyal, orthodox disciple by day, while by night, he was a heretic alchemist and a system-aided cultivator, preparing for a journey into the forest's heart to seek a flower that whispered of void and law. The leash of the sect was tight, but Li Yao was patiently, methodically, chewing through it. The three-month countdown to the exam, and the spatial anomaly, had begun.