Wang Lin gazed upon Zhang Hu’s retreating figure, a sigh escaping his lips after a long moment. The slip of yellow parchment in his hand felt heavy with sorrow. Zhang Hu, his first friend within the Heng Yue Sect, now embroiled in such dire circumstances.

“This cursed talisman is the root of this woe!” Wang Lin muttered, his gaze hardening as he examined the paper. Though deceptively similar to the messenger talismans used for familial visits, a palpable energy radiated from its surface, far exceeding that of any ordinary missive. A dangerous aura thrummed within, sending a jolt of alarm through him. Though he could not discern its exact nature, Wang Lin knew this was no mere trinket.

After a moment of grim contemplation, he secreted the talisman away, turning his attention to the fallen form upon the floor. A fresh wave of despair washed over him. If the body remained undiscovered, Zhang Hu, swift as he was, would surely fall prey to the sect’s relentless pursuit.

Thankfully, his storage pouch possessed ample space to conceal the corpse. Wang Lin swiftly cleansed the room, erasing all traces of blood. Without hesitation, he slipped away, seeking a secluded mountain stream. There, he cast the body into the depths, only then feeling a sliver of peace as he cautiously returned to his chamber.

With another sigh, he banished thoughts of Zhang Hu from his mind, retrieving the mysterious talisman for closer inspection.

At first glance, it appeared indistinguishable from the talismans employed by registered disciples to visit their kin. Yet, under scrutiny, Wang Lin discerned a marked difference in both the parchment’s quality and the vibrant crimson ink that traced its arcane symbols.

He held the talisman gingerly, pondering its purpose. Ever since his near-fatal encounter with the treacherous dew, he harbored a deep-seated distrust for the artifacts of immortals, unwilling to risk careless experimentation.

Compounded by the talisman’s unsettling aura, his caution deepened. After a lengthy hesitation, he consigned the talisman to his storage pouch, intending to unravel its secrets at a later time.

With that task complete, he retrieved the enigmatic bead, and plunged once more into the dreamscape.

This time, he did not solely focus on the rhythm of his breath, but dedicated a portion of his efforts to mastering the art of gravity manipulation.

Having witnessed its effectiveness in his encounter with Senior Brother Liu, he was determined to refine his control over this particular technique.

He began by using his gourd as a training aid, attempting to seize it in mid-air through sheer force of will. The gourd, being exceedingly light, proved challenging. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to grasp it. Emboldened by this single success, Wang Lin immediately severed the connection, resolving to begin anew.

His philosophy was simple: the art of gravity manipulation must be second nature, successful ten times out of ten. Otherwise, its power would be rendered useless when swift action was required.

He estimated that, in his current state, he succeeded only three or four times out of ten, a rate far below his self-imposed standard.

Time flowed ceaselessly within the dream, and before Wang Lin realized it, the familiar tearing sensation heralded his return to reality. Wasting no time, he gulped down several mouthfuls of spring water before settling into a meditative posture, focusing on his breath. Once his body felt saturated with spiritual energy, he drew a deep breath, his mind echoing with the three chapters of Qi Condensation.

Beyond detailing the methods of each layer, these chapters contained two crucial oral incantations!

These incantations were the true keys to unlocking the power of Qi Condensation. Of the fifteen levels within this period, only the first could be achieved through natural cultivation. The remaining fourteen demanded their own unique unlocking formulas.

For example, having mastered the first level, he found himself unable to progress without the incantation to unlock the second. Even with a complete understanding of the second level’s techniques, he would be forever bound to the first.

Wang Lin silently recited the incantation in his mind, and the spiritual energy within him stirred. At first, the change was subtle, but it steadily grew in intensity. Eventually, it surged through him like boiling water.

Slowly, his spiritual energy waned, becoming fragmented and intermittent. A cascade of sensations washed over him – sourness, numbness, itching, and pain – as if his body were riddled with holes, all originating from the unruly power within.

The three articles on Qi Condensation stressed one pivotal truth:

Success in unlocking each level was not guaranteed. Talent, spiritual energy, opportunity – all played their part. Some might succeed on their first attempt, while others might require ten, or even a hundred tries…

After an eternity, the strange sensations subsided, leaving Wang Lin drenched in sweat and devoid of spiritual energy. However, he knew from the chapters on Qi Condensation that this depletion was temporary, easily remedied through meditation. He had failed to unlock the second level. Despite this, Wang Lin was not discouraged. This was merely a trial run, proving that his current reservoir of spiritual energy was insufficient.

Having only just mastered the first level, he saw no need to rush. With the spring water at his disposal, he could steadily increase his spiritual energy until it reached its peak within the first level. At that point, attempting to unlock the second would naturally yield a higher chance of success.

With this plan firmly in place, Wang Lin resumed his tireless training, day and night. His spiritual power gradually accumulated, and his success rate with gravity manipulation steadily improved.

He attempted the unlocking incantation many times during this period, but all ended in failure.

In reality, three months had passed within the dream. Wang Lin was deep in his breathing exercises, awaiting the interval before his next sojourn to the dreamscape. Realizing he had some time to spare, he hesitated for a moment before launching into the opening formula of the second level, attempting to open the second level.

He had lost count of his failed attempts, each one leaving his spiritual energy drained.

Two hours later, Wang Lin lifted his head, weary and depleted. A bitter smile touched his lips. “Failed again. Unlocking the second level is far too difficult!” Suddenly, his expression changed, his eyes darting towards the door.

“Junior Brother Wang, come out! I wish to speak with you!” A cold voice echoed from beyond.

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Wang Lin rose, opening the door to find a young man clad in black, his face a mask of coldness.

“Black robes!” Wang Lin felt a surge of unease. He recognized the man as Zhang, the one who had brought him, Wang Zhuo, and Wang Hao to the Heng Yue Sect. This was the very man who had found Wang Lin’s father at the foot of the cliff.

However, Wang Lin recalled that the man had been wearing white robes at that time. In a matter of months, he had been promoted to wear black! Wang Lin recalled that when he was testing at the foot of the mountain, the third senior brother who took Wang Hao as the medicine boy said that the other party was practicing at a critical moment. The leader was afraid that it would affect his cultivation, so he arranged for him to test on his behalf.