“Do you seek to test my limits, then?” Wang Lin mused, as he prepared to depart the Bureau of Petty Labors. He wondered just how far these Masters would dare to push him.

In the hushed whispers of the registered disciples, a new epithet had begun to cling to Wang Lin, layered atop the common ‘Blackheart King.’ This was a title of his own making, earned in the shadows.

Compared to the youth Liu’s demeaning moniker of ‘Weasel,’ Wang Lin’s new title was of a far grander stature, befitting a true schemer.

In the year since the Dream Awakening, the spiritual energy within Wang Lin surged, exceeding its previous bounds many times over. He had reached the very precipice of the First Layer of Qi Condensation. Try as he might, no further increase could be coaxed. Thus, one moonless night, he resolved to break through to the Second Layer.

After countless failures that threatened to break his spirit, his perseverance bore fruit. He shattered the confines of the First Layer and ascended to the Second.

A viscous, black ichor seeped from his pores, the impurities expelled from his mortal coil. Cleansed and renewed, Wang Lin gazed upon his reflection in the water. His eyes shone like captured lightning, and a palpable aura of power radiated from him.

Stroking his chin, he muttered to himself, “Only the Third Layer remains. If I were to beseech Sun Dazhu for that coveted secret technique now, revealing my advancement to the Second Layer, questions would inevitably arise. Explanations would be demanded, and should I falter, trouble would surely ensue.”

He pondered for a long while, a furrow deepening between his brow.

With a sigh, he turned to practicing his manipulation of gravity. In the dreamscape, he could succeed in nearly every attempt. Inspired, Wang Lin resolved to escalate his training. He found a hefty stone discarded by the carpentry and bent his will to control it.

Time flowed onward, and another moon waned. Though the remembered disciples grumbled at Wang Lin’s demands in the Bureau of Petty Labors, the season had turned to winter. The Sect prepared for the annual inner disciple competition, and their complaints were overshadowed.

This year, the decennial competition for the registered disciples of Hengyue Sect was also upon them. The top three would be granted the honor of becoming disciples of the inner circle. Every registered disciple sharpened their skills, secretly vying for advantage, each harboring their own ambition.

And so, the matters of the Bureau of Petty Labors were set aside, lost in the clamor of competition.

Wang Lin felt a pang of disappointment. He had no intention of joining the competition. He deemed it better to spend his time within the Dream, honing his cultivation.

On this day, Hengyue Mountain was besieged by a ferocious blizzard. Goose-feathered flakes plummeted from the sky, cloaking the world in a shimmering, silver shroud, an endless expanse of ice and snow.

Wang Lin did not seek solace in cultivation. Instead, he stood motionless in the yard, his gravity arts flowing with the ease of thought. An unseen hand swirled around him, deflecting the snowflakes that dared to approach, leaving him untouched by the winter’s embrace.

His gaze drifted towards the direction of Zhongshan Village, his home. At this time, in years past, his parents would be tending to a warm hearth.

He would sit by the fire, engrossed in his studies, while his father carved intricate wood figures, and his mother preserved the bounty of the harvest in pickled jars.

Often, weary from his books, he would join his father, watching the wood surrender to his skilled hands. When the spirit moved him, he would offer his own clumsy assistance, father and son reveling in the shared task.

He remembered also the wooden tops hidden beneath his bed, brought out on bright, icy days to spin and dance with his childhood companions.

Wang Lin drew a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. Immortals must sever their ties to the mortal world, and such memories were but obsessions, hindering cultivation. He closed his eyes, then opened them, a nascent strength flickering within. He could not, would not, sever his ties to mortality completely. He lacked the ruthlessness for it. Instead, he would bury these memories deep within his heart, guarding them close.

Just as sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, a subtle shift in his perception alerted him. He now possessed the Second Layer of Qi Condensation, and with it, a nascent spiritual sense, as described in the ancient texts.

He glanced towards the gate, discerning the approach of Wang Hao. Moments later, the courtyard door creaked open. Wang Hao, bundled in fur hat and coat, stopped short, surprise etched upon his face. “Brother Tiezhu! You brave the chill with so little on?”

“I had a feeling you would seek me out,” Wang Lin chuckled, “so I endured the cold to greet you.” He felt no discomfort. Since attaining the Second Layer, his body was tempered and strengthened beyond measure.

Wang Hao laughed, removing his hat as he entered. He studied Wang Lin closely, then blurted out, “Brother Tiezhu, why do you seem… different than you were months ago?”

Wang Lin feigned nonchalance. “Naturally! I have now attained the Second Layer of Qi Condensation! I am practically an Immortal!”

Wang Hao scoffed, stepping towards the warmth of the room. “Enough with the boasting! We are of similar aptitude. Even with the aid of the Pill-Snatching Pill, I have yet to breach the First Layer. And you? I think not!”

Wang Lin did not argue. He knew full well that the truth was often met with disbelief. To fabricate a lie to cover it might arouse suspicion. He had not known Wang Hao long enough to trust him, and so he would tread carefully.

He considered the things he could not do from the outset.

“Wang Hao, what brings you here today? Isn’t the Danfang keeping you busy?” Wang Lin said as he returned to the room and poured the other party a cup of hot water.

Wang Hao took the cup, blew on it a few times, and took a cautious sip. He grinned and said, “You haven’t come to the Danfang for your share these past few months. I’ve been saving it all. I thought I’d bring it to you today.” He pulled a small package from within his cloak and placed it on the table.

Wang Lin’s expression shifted to one of amusement. He ignored the package, waiting for the other’s true purpose to reveal itself. He knew that Wang Hao would not make such a trek without a deeper reason.

Wang Hao flushed, sensing the scrutiny. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Brother Tiezhu, it has long been known that you are a man of shrewdness. I have heard tales of the generous stipends granted to registered disciples visiting relatives. Might you be persuaded to… lend me a few spirit stones?”