After pondering the matter deeply, Wang Lin suspected the reason lay within his dream-cultivation. In recent years, he had witnessed the arcane potency of the mysterious beads firsthand. Particularly within his dreams, each breath drawn caused the luminescent motes surrounding him to pulse with an odd light, which then burrowed into his very being. He had studied these motes for what felt like an age, yet their true purpose remained veiled.

No longer did Wang Lin veil his cultivation. He reasoned that attributing his advance to the third level of Qi Condensation within four years to diligent practice in the spirit-rich depths of the back mountains would suffice as explanation. None could fathom that he had reached the third level nearly two decades past, judged by the flow of time within his dreams!

Moreover, for over twenty years, he had stubbornly persisted in practicing the Gravitational Art each day, achieving a terrifying proficiency unbeknownst to himself. Surely, in all the realm of Zhao, no other soul had devoted such unwavering discipline to such a foundational art.

Then, without warning, a curtain of pearly light descended from the heavens, enveloping all those present. A familiar warmth washed over them, but this time, Wang Lin perceived a difference. Arcane glyphs flickered within the luminous veil, swirling into a vortex that drew them swiftly in, vanishing them all from the valley.

Next he knew, he stood within the grand hall of the Heng Yue Sect. The Sect Master, still clad in his customary azure robes, sat upright upon his dais, flanked by wizened elders. As they materialized, vast sweeps of spiritual sense probed them all. The Sect Master smiled, nodding in approval. “Four years have flown by with the blink of an eye. I am pleased to see such progress amongst you all. Those who have attained the fifth level of Qi Condensation or higher shall remain. The rest of you, seek out your masters and report your gains of these past four years. In three days, the Xuandao Sect will arrive for their visit. We shall be victorious! As for those remaining, you shall receive new robes after the exchange with the Xuandao Sect concludes.”

A chorus of assent filled the hall, and those disciples beneath the fifth level departed. Wang Lin scanned the throng, seeking out Sun Dazhu.

Leaving the hall, Wang Lin made his way to Sun Dazhu’s herb garden. A cursory sweep of his spiritual sense revealed the layered wards protecting the grounds, though they offered no real impediment. He could clearly perceive Sun Dazhu meditating cross-legged within, utterly oblivious to his presence. The wards that once intimidated him now seemed riddled with flaws, and Wang Lin felt confident that breaking them would pose little challenge.

“Disciple Wang Lin seeks an audience, Master!” Wang Lin announced, withdrawing his spiritual probe.

Sun Dazhu, startled, paused in his meditation. After a moment of recollection, he remembered accepting a disciple by that name four years ago. A neophyte sent to the training camp. He wondered if the wastrel had made any progress at all.

Driven by curiosity, he opened the garden gates, puffing out his chest. “Enter!”

Wang Lin stepped inside. Sun Dazhu appraised him, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’ve actually reached the third level of Qi Condensation?”

Wang Lin nodded, bowing respectfully. “I have been practicing diligently within the valley these past four years, and have been fortunate enough to advance.”

Sun Dazhu’s eyes flickered, recalling the true reason he had accepted the boy. He had originally planned to employ Soul Searching once the boy reached the first level, but now, after all these years, he hesitated. The price was too steep for such a paltry reward.

“Forget it. Since you have reached the third level, you are now truly my disciple, Sun Dazhu. The only one I have ever accepted. You may return to my residence and dwell there. In a few days, when the Xuandao Sect arrives for the exchange, you may accompany me to witness the spectacle. It will broaden your horizons. And since you have reached the third level, have you been practicing the Gravitational Art?”

Wang Lin remained impassive. “I have been practicing, but I find it rather…awkward.”

Sun Dazhu nodded sagely. “That is to be expected. That elementary art is all about diligence. Constant practice yields proficiency. I have practiced it nearly a year, making me the most devoted practitioner in the sect! Observe.” With a flourish, he summoned a small, brightly colored sword that hovered in the air, spinning swiftly before settling gently upon the palm of his hand.

“Once you master the Gravitational Art, and reach the second level, you can begin to practice the Art of Flight. This flying sword is controlled by the Art of Flight. Of course, reaching that point requires at least the fourth level of Qi Condensation. The Xuandao Sect arrives soon, and we must maintain appearances. Your cultivation is too low for you to compete, but I cannot let my disciple go without something. This flying sword can be partially manipulated with the Gravitational Art. Here, take this token to the Sword Spirit Pavilion, and find a flying sword that pleases the eye. Hang it from your person and fill the scene!” Sun Dazhu finished, tossing Wang Lin a token.

Wang Lin’s expression twisted into a bizarre mask. He opened his mouth, but found himself speechless.

Seeing Wang Lin’s strange reaction, Sun Dazhu huffed. “Don’t think this is a trivial matter. Remember, find one that pleases the eye, or you will shame your master! I will never forgive you! Hanging a flying sword will bring a great deal of face to your master, you understand?”

Wang Lin smiled weakly. “Disciple shall certainly find one that is pleasing…to a fool. Worry not, Master!”

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