The descent from Dragon Yuan Mountain was not steep.
But it was long.
Stone steps carved into the mountainside wound downward like an ancient serpent, disappearing into layers of drifting mist. On either side, towering trees stretched skyward, their leaves whispering softly as wind passed through them.
Lin Sheng walked alone.
Each step was steady.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Yet his mind was anything but calm.
"...The left eye aperture is open."
He blinked slightly.
The world shifted.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
The clarity of his vision had improved in a way that was difficult to describe. Colors appeared richer. Edges sharper. Even distant objects seemed more defined.
It wasn't merely better eyesight.
It was perception itself.
"Crystal."
The familiar interface appeared silently before him.
[Analyzing visual enhancement...]
[Left Eye Sensory Amplification: +30%]
Lin Sheng narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...Thirty percent."
That was no small increase.
In his previous life, opening a single aperture had taken nearly a month of continuous training, and even then, the effects had been subtle.
But here, with spiritual qi present, the process had accelerated dramatically.
"And this is only one aperture..."
His gaze lifted toward the distant forest.
"If all eight are opened..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Because he already understood.
This path was far beyond anything his previous world had achieved.
By the time he reached the base of the mountain, the mist had thinned.
Before him, the mortal city unfolded.
It was not grand like the inner territories of major cultivation sects.
But neither was it small.
Tall stone walls surrounded the city, etched with formation markings that glowed faintly beneath the sunlight. Guards stood at the gates, some wearing armor while others dressed in simple martial attire.
Most were mortals.
But not ordinary ones.
Their movements were firm.
Their breathing steady.
Martial practitioners.
Lin Sheng walked through the gates without stopping.
No one questioned him.
His robe carried the insignia of the Lin Family.
That alone was enough.
Inside, the city was alive.
Merchants called from both sides of the street. Stalls displayed everything from dried herbs to forged weapons. Children ran through the crowds while ox drawn carts creaked along the stone roads.
It was noisy.
Vibrant.
Chaotic.
Yet organized.
This was not merely a mortal city.
It was the foundation of the Lin Family's influence.
"The stronger the mortal base, the greater the chance of producing cultivators..."
Lin Sheng's eyes flickered slightly.
"...That explains the scale."
Without mortals, there would be no cultivators.
Without numbers, there would be no talent.
It was a simple principle.
But one that governed entire cultivation worlds.
He moved through the streets without stopping.
His destination was clear.
The Wu Pavilion.
It stood near the center of the city.
A three story building made from dark wood reinforced with metal edges. Its structure was sturdy rather than elegant, yet it carried a quiet sense of authority.
Above the entrance hung a wooden plaque.
Two words were carved deeply into it.
Wu Pavilion.
Lin Sheng stepped inside.
The moment he entered, the noise of the outside world faded.
Inside, the air was calm.
Still.
Rows of wooden shelves stretched across the hall, filled with scrolls and booklets. Some looked worn with age while others appeared newly copied.
A faint scent of ink lingered in the air.
Behind a long counter sat a man.
Or rather, reclined.
Half asleep.
Old Liang.
He looked strange.
At first glance, he appeared young, no older than thirty. His features were sharp and his posture relaxed.
But his hair was completely grey.
Not the dull grey of old age.
But a silvery color that shimmered faintly beneath the light.
Lin Sheng had seen him for years.
And yet, he had never truly understood him.
"Old Liang."
Lin Sheng greeted casually.
A pause followed.
Then—
"...Mm."
A lazy response.
Barely audible.
Lin Sheng didn't wait for more.
He walked deeper into the pavilion.
The shelves were clearly categorized.
One section carried a simple label.
Martial Techniques.
This was where he stopped.
"...Finally."
Before today, he had never been allowed here.
The family rules were strict.
Without passing the spiritual root test, one could not access martial knowledge.
Now, that restriction no longer mattered.
Even if the result had been failure.
His gaze swept across the shelves.
Titles passed through his vision one after another.
Eagle Claw Technique.
Blood Saber Technique.
Flowing Sword Technique.
Eight Step Cicada Movement.
Swimming Dragon Form.
Each represented a different path.
A different style.
A different philosophy.
"Crystal. Scan compatibility."
[Scanning...]
[Comparing host physique and neural response patterns...]
Lin Sheng picked up several manuals.
Opened them.
Flipped through their pages.
The chip processed everything rapidly.
Then a result appeared.
[Vajra Fist Technique — Optimal Compatibility]
Lin Sheng paused.
"...Vajra Fist."
He picked up the manual.
The booklet was simple and roughly bound.
But the moment he opened it, he could feel it.
Heavy.
Solid.
Every movement described within was direct and explosive.
No unnecessary complexity.
A technique focused entirely on power.
"...Suitable for strengthening the physique."
The chip added another line.
[Estimated Constitution Growth: +3–5% with consistent practice]
That was enough.
Lin Sheng closed the booklet.
"...This one."
He turned and walked back toward the counter.
Old Liang opened one eye slightly.
"...Picked something?"
Lin Sheng placed the booklet on the counter.
"Vajra Fist Technique."
Old Liang glanced at it.
Then at him.
"...Seven days."
His voice remained calm.
"If you don't return it, there's a fine."
Lin Sheng nodded.
"I understand."
Old Liang made a mark inside a worn record book.
Then he closed his eyes again.
As if the conversation had never happened.
Lin Sheng left the pavilion with the booklet in hand.
The sun was beginning to set.
Golden light stretched across the city, casting long shadows across the streets.
By the time he returned to his residence, night had already fallen.
The courtyard remained silent.
Still.
Lin Sheng sat inside his room.
The Vajra Fist manual lay open before him.
"...Crystal."
[Ready]
"Scan and input."
[Scanning... Processing...]
A faint pressure touched his mind.
Then information began to flow inward.
Not forcefully.
But smoothly.
Each movement.
Each stance.
Each breathing rhythm.
Everything was mapped.
Stored.
Organized.
"...Assist mode."
[Activated]
Lin Sheng stood and adjusted his posture according to the manual.
The Vajra Fist Technique contained seven forms.
The first form was called the Adamantine Root Stance.
The foundational stance.
The practitioner anchored their body like an immovable mountain, channeling force from the ground into the fist. It was primarily used for defense and for preparing devastating counterattacks.
After assuming the stance, Lin Sheng threw a punch.
Slightly off angle.
[Correction: Adjust 3 degrees right]
He shifted.
Struck again.
[Accuracy: 57%]
Again.
[Accuracy: 68%]
Again.
[Accuracy: 74%]
Sweat gradually formed on his forehead.
It was almost like possessing a personal martial instructor.
But his movements improved rapidly.
Not because of talent.
But because of precision.
Perfect correction.
Perfect repetition.
Hours passed.
His breathing grew heavier.
Yet his movements became increasingly efficient.
Finally, he stopped.
The interface flickered.
[Vajra Fist Proficiency: Entry → 22%]
Lin Sheng exhaled slowly.
"...Faster than expected."
He clenched his fist.
A faint tightness spread through his muscles.
Martial technique proficiency was divided into several levels.
Entry.
Proficient.
Mastered.
Minor Achievement.
Major Achievement.
Perfection.
To correctly perform all seven forms consistently was considered the Proficient stage.
According to the manual, reaching that level would normally require several days of practice.
Of course, that estimate assumed only three hours of training each day.
Anything beyond that would excessively drain one's qi and blood.