a journey into immortal cultivation

Chapter 34: Intensive Training

Chapter 34: Intensive Training

With the incantations for Qi Condensation up to the ninth layer in hand, Wang Lin finally felt at ease and began living in seclusion. Day by day, a tense atmosphere spread through the entire Hengyue Sect.

All the inner disciples were preparing for the year-end grand tournament. If you made the top ten, you could claim treasures—magic tools, pills, spirit stones, jade talismans, and more.

What made everyone even more eager was that the sect master had put up the sect’s heirloom, the Twin Moon Rings, as the first-place prize!

The Twin Moon Rings had been left behind by a senior of the sect three hundred years ago. Their power was considerable—a rare treasure that combined offense and defense.

So, behind the scenes, the inner disciples were grinding their blades and steeling themselves.

As for the newcomers’ tournament, only a few had been accepted as inner disciples this year, and in everyone’s eyes, Wang Zhuo would, unsurprisingly, take the Newcomer King title.

Over on the registered disciples’ side, hostility ran even higher. For them, this decade-once tournament was a turning point for their entire lives, and everyone was secretly making final preparations.

None of this tension had anything to do with Wang Lin. Day in and day out he either cultivated or practiced the Gravitational Art (Yinli). On the day before month’s end, he walked out of the chores compound and headed straight for the Main Courtyard.

He had already mastered the technique for masking his aura. With a single thought, the spiritual energy in his body naturally hid itself, making him appear as someone who hadn’t even reached the first layer of Qi Condensation.

He felt the chores compound was too crowded and noisy for cultivation, so he wanted to find a pretext to go down the mountain and seek a quiet place to train.

When he reached the Main Courtyard, he strode inside and, before long, arrived outside Sun Dazhu’s herb garden. Bowing respectfully, he called out loudly, “Disciple Wang Lin, requesting an audience with Master.”

“What are you here for?” The garden gate didn’t open; Sun Dazhu’s impatient voice came from within. Clearly, he had no fondness for this disciple.

Wang Lin’s expression was calm and properly respectful. “Disciple’s cultivation is insufficient. I feel I can’t win in tomorrow’s tournament and fear I’ll embarrass Master, so I don’t wish to participate.”

“Hmph, at least you know your place. Your Daoxu-shishu’s disciple Wang Zhuo is already at the peak of the first layer at his young age and could break through to the second at any time. Even if you went, it’d be pointless—he could crush you with one finger. I hear you’re relatives—how can the gap be so big?” Sun Dazhu mocked.

Wang Lin didn’t mind. “Wang Zhuo has been clever since childhood and his spiritual roots are abundant. He’s not someone this disciple can compare to.”

“Found any more gourds these past six months?” Sun Dazhu was silent for a moment, then asked.

Wang Lin shook his head with a troubled look. “It’s strange. I’ve gone to the spring many times and haven’t seen any gourds float down since.”

“Anything else? If not, scram. Seeing you ticks me off!” Sun Dazhu snapped. Every time he saw this disciple, he couldn’t control his temper and wished he could slap him to death so his peers would stop laughing at him.

“Master, disciple is bored out of his mind on the mountain and would like to go down for a while and return after the New Year. Would that be acceptable?” Wang Lin lowered his head, deferential.

“Go down the mountain? No. You reminded me—four years from now is the exchange meet with Xuandao Sect. The sect master has ordered that, after the New Year, most inner disciples will undergo four years of intensive training. You’re going too, so you don’t make a fool of me at the exchange and tarnish my name!” Sun Dazhu rejected him outright.

“Intensive training?” Wang Lin was taken aback.

“An exchange every twenty years—it’s been the rule for centuries. Xuandao Sect and our Hengyue Sect are cordial on the surface, but secretly we compete. We’ve lost the past hundred years’ worth of bouts—humiliating. Hence the training. Listen up: if you accomplish nothing in this training and embarrass me four years from now, I’ll kick you out of Hengyue no matter what!” Sun Dazhu didn’t want to explain more; a few sentences sufficed.

Wang Lin sighed inwardly. Clearly, going out to cultivate wasn’t happening. Seeing Sun Dazhu’s sour mood, he nodded, took his leave, and went back.

Back at the chores compound, he thought it over. If he couldn’t go outside to train, he’d have to use this intensive program to find opportunities to cultivate.

The next day, the sect’s grand tournament began. The scene was bustling, but Wang Lin, after a moment’s hesitation, chose not to watch. He seized every spare moment to breathe and circulate his qi, consolidating the second layer of Qi Condensation.

In the days that followed, through the registered disciples’ gossip, Wang Lin learned that among the inner disciples, Zhang-shixiong had taken first place—though reportedly because no purple-robed disciples had participated. As for Wang Zhuo, he unsurprisingly became the Newcomer King, and for a time he swaggered about, looking down on all his peers.

On a morning a week later, peals of a bell rang through the Hengyue Sect—five chimes in total—signaling that all inner disciples had to gather immediately in the main hall.

Wang Lin, inside the dream-realm, didn’t hear it until a furious Sun Dazhu kicked open the chores compound door and startled him awake. Wang Lin quickly put the bead away, masked his cultivation, and opened the hidden room. Sun Dazhu’s face was livid as he roared, “Wang Lin, are you deaf? Didn’t you hear the bell? You wretched disciple—the entire sect’s trainees have assembled, and you’re the only one missing! You made me lose face in front of my peers—y-you’ve infuriated me!!!”

Wang Lin’s brows twitched, but he stayed silent.

Sun Dazhu glared daggers at him. He knew it wasn’t the time to lecture— the sect master and senior brothers were waiting. Without another word he grabbed Wang Lin, stepped onto a seven-colored cloud, and shot into the sky.

At top speed they reached the main hall of the Main Courtyard. He flung Wang Lin to the ground and growled under his breath, “Follow me in. If you disgrace me again, I’ll take the punishment from the sect master and slap you to death!” At that last sentence, killing intent flashed in his eyes—his disgust for this disciple had reached the limit, and he’d decided to find a chance to expel him.

Wang Lin rubbed his arm. If not for being at the second layer of Qi Condensation, the throw would’ve broken it. Lowering his head, he said softly, “Disciple obeys.”

Sun Dazhu snorted, straightened his clothes, and entered the hall. Wang Lin drew a deep breath, pressed down his anger, and followed with a calm face.

The Hengyue Sect’s grand hall was the most solemn place in the sect—vast within, with dozens of towering statues of past sages lining both sides, a solemn air blanketing the space.

As Wang Lin followed Sun Dazhu inside, dozens of gazes converged on him at once. He immediately felt it hard to breathe. With a sidelong glance, he quickly lowered his head.