Humbled, I, your humble scribe, offer this tale, woven ‘twixt slumber and weary bones, and beseech thee, lend thine favor with a commendation! I heed the whispers of my fellow chroniclers; their observations shall be etched upon my heart, and mended with diligent hand.

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Yet, when Zhang Kuang sought to compare its essence with the sacred spring of the back mountain, he was struck dumb. This new fount pulsed with tenfold the spirit-force, a magic hitherto unknown. Upon careful scrutiny, he discovered its wondrous secret: it held the key to eternal beauty!

Drawn from it regularly, one could defy the ravages of time. Even a few drops wrought a palpable change, filling him with an intoxicating elation.

Know ye, that in the grand tapestry of cultivation, only those who ascend to the realm of Nascent Soul achieve ageless visage – a feat reached after centuries, perhaps millennia, of arduous striving.

Zhang Kuang envisioned the potential. If this elixir were bartered with other sects, especially those fair maidens striving in the Foundation Establishment and Dan-building stages, a frenzy of desire would surely erupt.

But when he sought the source, Wang Lin had vanished. The vast expanse of Hengyue Sect, with its dozens of inner disciples, yielded no trace of the youth.

A somber mood descended, for Zhang Kuang had pondered the matter deeply. He even cast a glance upon Wang Lin, dismissing him as too lowly, merely a striver in the third rung of Qi Condensation.

But now, a certainty bloomed within him: the one he sought *was* Wang Lin. An unshakeable intuition, defying all reason!

“This Wang Lin wields such power! Fortunate am I that I entertained no ill intentions! Alas, I must bury the secret of this spring. Whether Wang Lin be the one or not, he must never suspect. For the world of cultivation is a cruel theater. Not even brothers are spared from the blade of ambition. Against Wang Lin’s might, I would be as straw before the storm!” Thus, Zhang Kuang vowed to never provoke the ire of Wang Lin.

Simultaneously, a thought pierced his mind. Back in those days, when he, himself barely a fledgling in the first tier of Qi Condensation, had scornfully dismissed Wang Lin’s plea for guidance. What must Wang Lin have thought then?

His skin prickled with cold sweat as he recalled the desolate back mountains. Thank the heavens, suspicion had not bloomed into action. For had he struck then, he would now reside in the cold embrace of the earth.

He wrestled with the question of Wang Lin’s sudden strength, but swiftly abandoned the pursuit. To delve deeper was to invite peril, to court oblivion.

Senior Brother Zhang, who once guided Wang Lin’s clumsy attempts at cultivation, now found himself in the throes of mingled emotions. Gazing upon Wang Lin, seated upon the stone platform, he lamented, “This Wang Lin, plucked from his humble dwelling by my own hand. He was but a common lad. Then, that desperate act of self-sacrifice. And now, in merely five years, he has blossomed into the mightiest of Hengyue Sect’s inner disciples. Truly, fate is a capricious artist, each canvas painted with a different hue. I toiled for over a decade to reach the sixth level of Qi Condensation. Alas!”

If the warriors of Xuandao Sect were merely surprised before, now they stood aghast.

Zhou Peng’s first defeat could be excused as carelessness. But the second, the third, each time he was cast aside with a single gesture, utterly helpless. Even when Zhou Peng unleashed the talisman of concentrated cultivation, a desperate gambit to unleash peak momentum, he was still felled with a single, devastating blow.

This spectacle plunged the disciples of Xuandao Sect into a profound despair.

Liu Feng’s jaw hung slack, his breath caught in his throat. Now he knew, with utter certainty, that Wang Lin was Hengyue Sect’s trump card. His elder brother must not underestimate him. For his skills, undeniably, were inferior. To think, his elder brother, a master of the twelfth level of Qi Condensation, and Wang Lin… to what realm had he ascended…?

“Could he… could he have built the foundation?” Liu Feng murmured, scarcely believing his own words.

The Ouyang Girl, who had once mocked Wang Lin’s meager offering to the monstrous centipedes, now stared, dumbstruck. Her elder brother, the paragon of strength in her eyes, defeated so utterly…

Liu Mei’s eyes shone, a spark of keen interest igniting within. “So, he hides his light! I suspected as much three days past. He was the first to recover from my enchantment!”

The other disciples were rendered speechless. Their elder brother, their champion, their bastion of strength, had fallen before them, powerless. A seed of doubt was planted. The immortal arts of Xuandao Sect, once unassailable, now seemed…fragile.

The visage of Old Man Ouyang, once filled with condescension toward Huang Long, the head disciple of Hengyue Sect, was now etched with dismay. He gazed upon Wang Lin, a bitter taste in his mouth, shock reverberating through his very core. He, whose sight pierced the fourteenth level of Qi Condensation, could not fathom the strength of this disciple. By all appearances, he was merely in the third stage.

“He…is he truly a disciple of Hengyue Sect? Could he have already laid the foundation? Why else could I not see through him?”

The other two elders bore equally grim expressions. Zhou Peng’s thrice-failed assaults had laid bare the terrifying truth of Wang Lin’s power.

Then, a timid voice broke the silence, a disciple of Xuandao Sect whispering, “He…what spell does he wield? It feels like…gravity.”

“Gravity Technique? Impossible! It is the most rudimentary of spells. How could it command such force? Nay, this must be a lost art from a bygone age. Observe his seemingly casual wave. The appearance of gravity is but a clever veil, masking the truth of a forgotten sorcery! This Wang Lin is a master of deception!” A disciple declared, his face grave with earnest analysis.

“But… I believe it *is* Gravity Technique. I often practice it. Sometimes I unleash it, and under its influence, I can send things flying wherever I will. Just now, the elder brother was like…” Another disciple said, his voice shrinking, his gaze darting nervously.

“Silence! Your feeble strength cannot compare to Wang Lin’s. I tell you, this is not Gravity Technique. It cannot be!” A third disciple insisted, stroking his chin with a furrowed brow.

The others joined the debate, dissecting Wang Lin’s magic, some even dared to question the three elders directly.

Old Master Ouyang and his companions exchanged strained smiles. With a sigh, the Old Master spoke, his voice resonant with weight, “This is no mere Gravity Technique. I have never heard of it wielded with such potency. If my eyes do not deceive me, it is the long-lost Hand of Dragon Capture!”

“Hand of Dragon Capture!” A stunned silence descended upon the two elders. They had never encountered such a technique. But what other explanation could there be? The movements were so deceptively similar to… gravity.

Old Man Ouyang inwardly groaned. “I cannot admit my ignorance. It would be too humiliating. I must invent a grand name.”