He considered this, then retrieved the enigmatic prayer beads, commencing his inaugural secluded meditation.

Time, that relentless river, surged onward. Within the mountains, years blurred like the fleeting passage of a dream. Two years hence had vanished in the blink of an eye. Yet, Wang Lin found no solitude in his daily regimen of breathwork and the study of gravitational forces.

Though reckoned as two years, the inclusion of the dream realm extended his retreat to nigh thirteen years.

He now possessed a profound understanding of the spiritual essence that permeated this place. Though not yet surpassing the legendary spirit spring, each breath drawn in reality yielded a density of arcane energy several times greater than the outside world.

The Qi Condensation stage, from its second level, witnessed a deceleration in his progress. He had reached its zenith six years prior, within the dream. Upon discerning that the spiritual tide had ceased its rise, he began his attempts to transcend. After numerous trials, he at last ascended to the third level.

However, a vexing enigma plagued him. Even after seven years within the dream, even upon attaining the very apex of the third level, all his endeavors to unlock the fourth proved futile. It was not a deficiency of spiritual energy that hampered him, but a tenebrous force, an arcane power that consistently barred his passage at the critical moment.

Furthermore, the third level of Qi Condensation possessed a peculiar nature. Unlike the first two, where the spirit would stagnate upon reaching its limit, preventing entry into the next, the energy on the third level continued to condense, without end.

Even though Wang Lin consciously perceived his arrival at the peak, his spiritual force augmented with each breath, his very being undergoing a perpetual metamorphosis.

This baffled Wang Lin, leaving him in utter bewilderment.

On this day, the last of the spiritual snow-melt had been consumed, leaving but a single gourd within his storage pouch containing liquid. This gourd, unusually elongated, was one of three he had buried when first ascending the mountain. He had used two in the ritual to cloud the prayer beads over ten times. Yet the draught he had taken nearly cost him his life. Thus, he held a deep apprehension for the dew within, keeping it concealed and untouched within his pouch.

After some hesitation, Wang Lin elected to leave the gourd untouched. Reasoning that its spiritual energy had undoubtedly reached a fearsome potency, he recalled his past brush with mortality and deemed caution prudent. It was best to bide his time until a higher echelon of Qi Condensation was attained.

He rose, stretching his limbs, and grasped the handle embedded in the wall. A sudden roar echoed forth as the stone face slowly ascended, revealing the entrance to his abode. Sunlight streamed through the opening, momentarily blinding Wang Lin. After a time, his vision returned, and he stepped forth, inhaling deeply.

Looking down, he saw a multitude of figures meditating and conversing in the valley below. Clearly, long periods of seclusion had driven them forth in search of respite.

After a moment’s contemplation, he veiled his cultivation, masking it as a mere first level Qi Condensation initiate. Then, with a flourish of his sleeves, a subtle force rose from beneath his feet, gently levitating him downward.

The Gravitational Arts, refined to near perfection within the thirteen years of dream-time, required no incantations. Almost by mere intention, the mastery of Gravitational forces would manifest.

Now, aloft in the air, he used gravity to govern his descent. While such a feat could be attempted with sufficient force, the speed would be painfully slow, and any acceleration would surely lead to loss of control.

Wang Lin was now confident that he could maintain control even at great speeds. An achievement unthinkable without a decade or more of focused practice.

But who would dedicate such a vast expanse of time to this most basic of immortal arts? Cultivators were always racing against time, and few would be willing to squander such precious hours. Time would be better served mastering more advanced and potent techniques.

To avoid drawing undue attention, Wang Lin floated gently to the valley floor. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he heard a sharp, sarcastic voice cut through the air, “Truly, the sun must have risen in the west. That useless Wang Lin has managed to achieve the first level of Qi Condensation. At last, he descends from the cliff unaided!”

Wang Lin turned, his gaze fixed on Wang Zhuo, a glimmer of indifference flickering within his eyes. Several others sat beside Wang Zhuo, all disciples of the Inner Sect.

One, a young man in white, perhaps twenty-four or five, chuckled, “Wang Lin, you should not have come here. You would be far better off amongst the registered disciples in the chores office, where you can still hold some measure of pride. But here, you are the least amongst us all.”

Wang Lin’s spiritual sense swept over them. Wang Zhuo, like himself, had attained the third level of Qi Condensation, while the young man in white had reached the zenith of the fourth, poised to break through at any moment.

“Wang Lin, in the competition two years ago, you were clever. Knowing you were no match for me, you conceded. But let me tell you, waste remains waste. You can never rival Wang Zhuo. I am the rising star of this new year, can you say the same?” Wang Zhuo sneered.

The young man in white laughed in turn, “Little brother, fetch some water from the river! Senior brother is in a generous mood, perhaps he might even assign you a task!” He then tossed a flask, which landed at Wang Lin’s feet.

Wang Lin remained silent, his gaze fixed on the other.

“What is this? Do you seek to fight? Let me tell you, the Second Senior Brother decreed that Inner Disciples of the back mountain may spar with one another. Do not feign ignorance, lest I teach you a lesson.” The young man in white spat the words out with contempt.

“Enough, silence!” A sharp command echoed from the cliff above. A black blur shot forth like lightning, resolving into the figure of Senior Brother Zhang. Frowning, he surveyed the group and barked, “Wang Zhuo, Sun Hao, should you not be training? Is bullying a junior brother newly arrived at the first level of Qi Condensation truly of interest to you?”

The two paled slightly, casting venomous glares at Wang Lin before falling silent, cowed by Senior Brother Zhang’s presence.

Senior Brother Zhang turned his attention to Wang Lin, speaking with a stern countenance, “Wang Lin, you should not have come here, but since you have, train with diligence. In the world of cultivation, strength alone holds sway.”

Wang Lin nodded in acknowledgement. He hesitated, then asked, “Senior Brother Zhang, I have a question. Why can I not succeed, no matter how I attempt to break through to the next level?”

Wang Zhuo scoffed, “With such meager talent, you will never even glimpse the second level in your lifetime!”