Elder Brother Zhang, his gaze like chipped ice, swept over Wang Zhuo. “The path to ascension, young brothers, is often a fickle mistress. Some are blessed by the heavens and stride forth with ease, while others toil for centuries, even lifetimes, only to find the gate remains stubbornly barred.”

A veil of melancholia settled upon Wang Lin’s face. “Elder Brother,” he ventured, his voice tinged with worry, “is each step so arduous? From the second to third, the third to fourth… are they all trials of such magnitude?”

Zhang nodded, his expression grim. “Indeed. The higher one climbs, the steeper the ascent. The transitions from the third to fourth and the fifth to sixth stages are particularly fraught with peril.”

As Zhang spoke, disciples from afar gathered, drawn by his words. A woman, her voice like the chime of bells, spoke up. “Elder Brother, what tribulations lie in wait for one seeking to ascend from the third to the fourth level? For I myself stand upon that precipice.”

Wang Lin recognized her: Zhou, the very woman Wang Zhuo pursued with relentless, though clumsy, fervor.

Zhang considered for a moment, stroking his chin. “Very well,” he declared. “I shall seize this opportunity to illuminate the trials of the Qi Condensation realm. Below the sixth level, there exist two significant bottlenecks. The first, as our sister inquires, is the chasm between the third and fourth stages. For some, it is a mere step; for others, an insurmountable barrier that shadows their entire existence. Talent is a small part of it, no the heart of the problem lies in whether you can grasp the meaning of the phrase, ‘The Great Way is without sentiment’!”

He paused, casting a knowing look upon the assembled disciples. “A cultivator,” he continued, “must sever the ties that bind them to the mortal realm. If one achieves this, the path to the fourth stage opens before them. But if one clings to these worldly attachments, they will find themselves hopelessly trapped! As for the bottleneck between the fifth and sixth, that marks a profound transformation. The spirit essence reshapes the body, initiating a metamorphosis that consumes vast quantities of energy. This insatiable hunger for essence becomes the wall that halts the progress of so many.”

Wang Lin stood silent, the words echoing within him like the tolling of a distant bell.

The other disciples, their faces a mixture of contemplation and unease, continued to pepper Zhang with questions until the shadows stretched long and the day bled into twilight.

Frowning, Wang Lin wandered into the valley. The murmur of flowing water grew louder, until finally, a small river unveiled itself before him.

A faint aura of spiritual energy wafted from the waters. Wang Lin cupped his hand and tasted it, finding it not as potent as the sacred spring, but potent enough to invigorate the spirit.

He withdrew several gourds, silently filling them with the precious water. After what seemed like an eternity, the gourds were full. He turned to leave, only to find Second Brother Zhang looming behind him, spectral in the fading light. Wang Lin’s heart plummeted. He had meticulously guarded his senses, yet Zhang had clearly been there for some time, unseen, unheard.

“Junior Brother Wang,” Zhang spoke, his eyes glinting. “This river does indeed hold spiritual essence, beneficial to one’s cultivation. But I observed you preparing quite a quantity of gourds. Were you aware of this river’s gift before you ventured into the valley?”

Wang Lin, striving for composure, carefully stowed the gourds. “My master enlightened me before I arrived, Elder Brother, informing me of the river’s virtues.”

Zhang fixed him with a prolonged stare, then nodded slowly. “If Uncle Sun knew of this, then it is as expected. Return to your practice. You attained the first level of Qi Condensation in but two years. A testament to your resolve, Junior Brother. It is well. May you have reached the second level by our next meeting!”

Wang Lin bowed deeply and departed with measured steps, his every sense strained. Reaching the sanctuary of his cave, he sagged against the stone wall, the fabric of his robes damp with perspiration. Fortune had favored him this day. He had cultivated the habit of concealing the depth of his progress, else Zhang would have surely discovered his true strength at the third level of Qi Condensation. He would have been left with no hope.

“The Way of Immortality,” Wang Lin muttered to himself, “is rife with desires, more intense and crueler than those of the mortal world. I must never reveal the existence of the mystical beads.”

He engaged the warding mechanism, sealing the cave, and settled into a meditative posture.

Logically, the need for immortality dictates one severs all emotional ties in order to prevent any attachments that distract from their pursuits. However, since coming to the Hengyue Sect, no cultivator he had encountered was capable of such detachment, their desires and passions seeming only amplified.

Thus, the “severing of mortal ties” seemed a mere empty phrase. Yet, according to Elder Brother Zhang, this severing was crucial to progressing from the third to fourth stages. It was a contradiction.

After considerable contemplation, Wang Lin remained perplexed. He knew he could never sever his bonds of kinship. Thankfully, the third level of Qi Condensation differed from the previous two. Though a breakthrough remained elusive, his essence continued to swell. He abandoned any notion of forcing an ascension in the near future, resolving instead to solidify his mastery of the third stage.

Time, like the river, flowed onward. Years drifted by until Wang Lin had spent four in secluded cultivation behind the mountain. During the last two years, Wang Lin went out once only to refill his gourds, where they would then soak in the beads.

Four years in reality, and twenty-five in dreams. If the previous years were counted, it was almost thirty years of practice.

His state of Qi Condensation was still at level three. But the spiritual energy in his body was constantly growing.

On the dawn of the final day of his four-year cultivation, a commanding voice echoed outside. “Brothers and Sisters! The four years have passed! Emerge swiftly! The Master is performing a grand spell in the main hall. Return to the sect!”

One by one, the caves on the cliff face opened, releasing their occupants.

Over forty disciples, each forged anew by the crucible of the last four years. Standing in the valley, Wang Lin reached out with his spiritual sense.

Wang Zhuo had reached the peak of level five of Qi Condensation and was about to enter level six. Many others were at a similar level. Every single person had progressed.

The woman surnamed Xu had also reached the third level of Qi Condensation. As for Senior Brother Zhang, Wang Lin looked at him and saw level six of Qi Condensation!

He felt different than the others. First of all, there was spiritual awareness. When he observed others just now, no one seemed to notice it.

Furthermore, the woman surnamed Zhou said two years ago that she had reached the third level of Qi Condensation Period, but Wang Lin had just discovered that the other party was still hovering on the third level, and the level of spiritual energy in her body did not increase at all.

Wang Lin had a guess in his mind that others did not seem to be like him, and there was no limit on the third level.