Xu Ming's recovery took seven days.
Seven days during which Li Chen did nothing but sit beside him, eyes closed, monitoring every fluctuation in his breath and pulse. He fed him medicinal soups personally, adjusted the flow of the Chaos Breathing Technique when pain surged, and sealed Xu Ming's meridians whenever exhaustion threatened to undo the progress he had made.
On the seventh day, Xu Ming finally opened his eyes fully.
His aura was different now.
Deeper.
Denser.
More dangerous.
The rhythm within his body was no longer scattered—it pulsed.
Pulse Condensing.
Xu Ming noticed Li Chen watching him.
"I didn't die," Xu Ming said hoarsely, then smiled. "So you don't have to worry."
Li Chen did not smile back.
"That incident," Li Chen said quietly, "was my fault."
Xu Ming stiffened. "Master—"
"I misjudged the lower realm," Li Chen continued. "And I overestimated how long I could stay weak."
Xu Ming said nothing.
He had seen it.
The moment Li Chen stepped in, the world itself had seemed to flinch.
Li Chen stood.
"I'm going into seclusion," he said. "You will not leave this residence until I return."
Xu Ming frowned. "What if—"
Li Chen's gaze sharpened—not with killing intent, but with certainty.
"Nothing will happen."
He waved his sleeve.
The ground around the residence lit up as formation after formation activated—defensive arrays, concealment arrays, spirit-gathering arrays layered so densely that even elders passing nearby felt an instinctive urge to leave.
Xu Ming's breath caught.
"These formations…"
"Enough to delay a Nascent Soul cultivator," Li Chen said calmly. "Long enough for me to notice."
Xu Ming swallowed.
"How long will you be gone?"
Li Chen paused.
"I need to reach at least the fifth stage of Qi Condensation," he said. "Anything less… and next time, I might be too late."
Xu Ming clenched his fists.
"…Then I'll cultivate," he said firmly. "I won't waste the time you buy me."
Li Chen nodded once.
"That's all I ask."
He entered the inner chamber and sealed the door.
Inside, the room was bare—no decorations, no comfort. Only a spirit-gathering array carved into the floor and a single jade cushion.
Li Chen sat.
For two months, he had restrained himself completely. Suppressed every instinct. Ignored the way qi naturally leaned toward him.
Now—
He released the lock.
Just a little.
The surrounding spiritual qi trembled, then flowed inward like a silent tide.
Li Chen's expression hardened.
"No hesitation," he murmured. "No excess."
The Divine Art of Silent Severance circulated.
Qi condensed.
First stage—already complete.
Second stage—stabilized in moments.
Third stage—compressed without resistance.
Li Chen's dantian felt like a star being slowly forged—quiet, controlled, lethal.
Outside the residence, the wind stilled.
Birds fell silent.
Even the sect's grand formation subtly adjusted its flow, instinctively compensating for something it could not understand.
Xu Ming sat cross-legged at the door, cultivating as instructed, unaware of the scale of what was happening mere steps away.
Inside the chamber, Li Chen opened his eyes.
Calm.
Focused.
Resolved.
I don't want power, he thought.
But I won't let weakness take what I've decided to protect.
Qi surged inward once more.
The fourth stage of Qi Condensation cracked—
—and began to rise.
The heavens watched quietly.
This time, Li Chen did not run.