The Mission Hall was a stone pavilion nestled beneath a cliff waterfall. Outer disciples whispered as Ling Xian approached, his steps steady, his expression unreadable.
Behind the counter, a black-robed deacon glanced up lazily—then did a double take.
"You're… Ling Xian? The one the elders punished?"
Ling Xian simply nodded.
"I was told to accept a Yellow-tier mission," he said calmly. "Any that's available. The more dangerous, the better."
The deacon blinked, then wordlessly turned to a jade slip and handed it over. "You're free to choose. But don't blame the sect if your bones never return."
Ling Xian took the jade without replying.
As he turned to leave, another disciple snickered from the side. "Don't pick anything too easy, pretty boy. You wouldn't want the sect's top beauty crying over your grave."
Ling Xian paused mid-step.
"Better pray I don't return," he said without turning his head. "Because if I do, I'll remember your face."
The hall fell silent.
He left behind only the sound of the waterfall—and an air of growing dread.
Back at His Hut – That Same Night
The jade mission slip sat untouched on the table. Ling Xian wasn't in a hurry.
He was sitting shirtless on the stone floor, his body glowing faintly under the moonlight filtering through the roof.
His spiritual sea stirred.
He had already built his foundation… now it was time to reforge it—push it beyond what this realm considered normal.
"This body is weak," he muttered. "But my soul… remembers everything."
He pulled out a thin black stone from beneath the floor—a soul imprint shard from his past life, hidden here by instinct during the brief chaos of reincarnation.
It glowed softly in his palm.
From it, he extracted a cultivation technique he himself had created during the prime of his life:
Ninefold Heaven-Devouring Meridian Art – a body-refining technique capable of compressing and circulating qi with terrifying efficiency.
Unusable in the higher realm due to its instability, but perfect here—a forbidden beast among rabbits.
He crossed his legs, drew in a breath, and began.
The air around him trembled.
Qi gathered unnaturally, bending toward him like iron to a magnet. His bones cracked. His muscles stretched. His veins burned.
Yet Ling Xian didn't so much as blink.
This pain was nothing. He had walked through hell.
Hours passed. Dawn began to kiss the horizon.
By the time the first bird cried—
BOOM.
A subtle explosion echoed in his dantian.
He opened his eyes slowly.
His cultivation had jumped from second stage Qi condensation to early stage Body Tempering , in one single night.
"That should be enough… for now," he whispered.
And with a casual flick, he picked up the jade slip.
It read:Mission: Slay the Bloodfang Boar King terrorizing a nearby village. Difficulty: Yellow Tier. Estimated survival rate: 40%.
Ling Xian smiled.
"Forty percent? Let's make it a hundred."