Chapter 25
After waiting patiently, Adam felt the subtle loosening of the pressure that had weighed down on him for years. The resistance had finally begun to wane.
It was time to begin the next phase.
Sitting cross-legged, Adam drew in a long breath and focused inward. The goal was simple in theory—compress the vast amounts of gaseous Qi within his three dantians into liquid form. But as he examined the sheer volume of Qi he had accumulated over the years, his eyes widened. It was like staring into a sealed mall filled wall to wall with thick, swirling vapor. Endless. Dense. Vast.
He began.
The process was grueling. Condensing vapor into liquid was not just about force—it was about precision, rhythm, and sheer mental willpower. It felt as though his very soul was being wrung out. Every cycle of compression strained his body and mind, threatening to unravel him. Yet, Adam powered through, fueled by determination and the calm presence of Red, who watched silently from the side.
Time passed. How much, he couldn’t tell.
Then, it happened.
With a deep, rumbling pulse from within, the transformation was complete.
The swirling vapor collapsed into shimmering pools of liquid Qi—thick, vibrant, and pure—gathered in each of his dantians like hidden ponds brimming with power. Adam exhaled, a genuine sigh of relief leaving his lips.
He had done it.
Foundation Establishment, First Minor Realm.
Immediately, he felt it—the liquid Qi coursing through him brought more than strength. It brought stability, clarity, a deeper connection between body and energy. His muscles felt denser, his skin tougher, his senses sharper.
He stood, feeling taller somehow.
And then he waited.
More time passed, the silence heavier than before. But this time, he wasn’t anxious. He had changed. Grown.
Finally, the massive doors of the chamber creaked open, golden light spilling in from outside.
Standing there with arms folded and a rare smile on his face was Grand Elder Guo.
“Welcome back,” the master said.
Adam stepped forward, Red curling around his shoulders.
time to go back to the world.
The moment Adam stepped out of the time chamber, the world hit him like a tidal wave.
Time, the subtle current he had long forgotten in that sealed space, came crashing back all at once. His senses reeled. The sky seemed to move too fast. The wind stung like needles. Sounds were too sharp, colors too vivid. His body staggered, his footing uncertain, as if the ground itself was slightly out of sync with him.
Red let out a low, disoriented whine, trembling on his shoulder. The little beast curled inwards, tail wrapping tightly around his neck for stability. He was feeling it too.
Time dissonance.
Adam’s vision blurred, his breath ragged. His heart thumped too slowly, then too quickly, his thoughts struggling to catch up with a world that had moved on without him.
Grand Elder Guo stepped forward calmly, as if he had seen this countless times before.
“It’s normal,” the master said, his voice grounding. “You’ve been isolated from the natural flow of time for far too long. Your body and mind will need time to realign.”
Adam barely registered the words before his knees gave out. He collapsed forward.
The elder caught him with a flick of his sleeve, gently lowering him to the ground.
“You’ve done well, Adam,” he said, placing a hand briefly on Adam’s forehead. “Now rest.”
With a quiet hum of spiritual energy, both Adam and Red vanished in a ripple of light, teleported back to their residence within the sect.
There, within the quiet of his familiar abode, Adam lay unconscious on his bed, Red curled up beside him.
His journey in the chamber was complete.
The real world awaited.
Adam stirred.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
His body felt... different. He was light and heavy all at once. Strength surged through his limbs, but there was also a strange stillness within him, like a great storm had finally calmed. Beside him, Red yawned with a high-pitched squeak, blinking his sleepy golden eyes before leaping onto Adam's chest with a small, comforting thump.
They were home.
Adam sat up slowly, the silken sheets slipping off his frame. His muscles no longer ached—they thrummed with quiet power. His core felt like a deep, bottomless well now filled with liquid energy. Foundation Establishment. He had made it.
He looked around his abode.
On the table near the window, folded with care, was a new robe—deep silver, lined with white and stitched with faint runic threadwork. Beside it, a beast pouch embossed with the sect’s insignia. And a sealed letter.
Adam walked over, Red perched on his shoulder. He opened the letter and began to read:
> To Disciple Adam,
Congratulations on reaching the Foundation Establishment realm. You have done well. Your time in isolation was long, and the world has not stood still. Much has changed within the sect.
Some of your acquaintances have grown alongside you, and the winds of fate stir with new stories. Take time to reconnect. They, too, have walked their own paths in your absence.
Come down from your peak when you are ready. The world awaits your next steps.
— Guo Fengyin
Adam lowered the letter, exhaling softly.
He glanced at Red. The little beast looked more alert now, the glow in his fur stronger, clearer—he had grown too. They both had.
“Well,” Adam murmured, slipping into the new robe, “let’s go see what we missed.”
With Red on his shoulder and his steps steady, Adam opened the door of his abode and began his descent from the peak—toward the sect below, and whatever had changed while he was away.
Descending the peak, Adam’s first thought wasn’t about checking in with the elders or finding out what had changed—it was food.
Real food.
Not the dry, tasteless ration bricks he had chewed through for who-knows-how-long. His body had grown strong, his Qi vast, but his tongue hadn’t forgiven him. He gently tucked Red into the new beast pouch, patting it lightly before heading down the stone steps, following the familiar path toward the sect’s cafeteria.
The scent hit him before the building came into view—spiced meat, stir-fried vegetables, fresh steamed buns.
He walked in, took whatever was being served without a second thought, and turned around, tray in hand, eyes scanning for a table.
That’s when he saw them.
Mei Lan—poised, elegant, a quiet maturity to her that hadn’t been there before.
Shen Xinyi—broad-shouldered, posture proud, the air of a graceful but unmistakably muscular warrior.
Zhou Ren—robes clean, hair tied neatly, the sharp air of a scholar clinging to him like ink.
And Han Feng—arms crossed, battle-hardened, scarred knuckles resting on the table like they belonged there.
Familiar... yet different. Like old paintings repainted with richer colors.
Adam walked over, nodding once. “Mind if I join?”
The conversation at the table died instantly.
All four turned toward him. Confusion. Caution.
A tense silence.
Shen Xinyi tilted her head slightly. “Who... are you?”
Han Feng frowned. “Have we met before?”
Adam blinked. Huh. Have I changed that much appearance-wise?
He let out a small chuckle, partly amused, partly amazed.
They looked even more confused now.
Then, without a word, he reached up and rolled back his sleeve, letting his sword arm rest in the light.
Recognition hit them like a wave.
And in that moment, the tension didn’t break—it melted.
Mei Lan’s lips parted in surprise before softening into a warm, almost wistful smile.
Shen Xinyi blinked rapidly, then let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from deep relief.
Zhou Ren stood up halfway, unsure if he should bow, hug, or shake hands, his face stuck between shock and joy.
Han Feng just grinned, slow and wide, like seeing a brother walk through the door after years at war.
“Adam...” Mei Lan said softly, as if tasting the name for the first time in years.
“You bastard,” Han Feng added with a laugh, pushing out a chair. “congratulations on finally reaching the foundation establishment realm.”
Adam just smiled, setting down his tray. “Miss me?”
The chair scraped against the stone as he sat down, surrounded once again by people who hadn’t forgotten—just waited.
As Adam settled in, the tension fully dissolved, replaced by a sense of nostalgia-laced comfort. The clatter of trays and soft murmur of voices around them faded into the background.
Zhou Ren adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, ever the first to report. “You’ve missed quite a bit, Adam. Three new pocket realms have been discovered near the outer sectors. One of them had traces of ancient formations—some believe they belonged to a sect older than ours.”
“Too bad you weren’t there for the ruin expedition,” Han Feng added, mouth half-full as he spoke. “We found this crumbling palace in a desert valley, covered in sand. Place reeked of death Qi. You would’ve loved it. Mei Lan nearly got impaled by a sentient vine.”
Mei Lan shot him a sideways glare, then looked at Adam, her voice soft but edged with quiet pride. “I didn’t. I froze it before it touched me.”
Adam smiled. “Of course you did.”
Shen Xinyi chimed in, arms crossed, calm as ever. “The sect tournament changed a lot too. Rules are tighter now. No ‘accidental’ maimings in early rounds.”
Han Feng let out a theatrical sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Can’t test how solid someone’s bones are anymore without the elders breathing down your neck.”
Adam chuckled. “So the tournament’s not a death match anymore?”
“Not officially,” Shen Xinyi said with a faint smirk. “But unofficially…”
Mei Lan glanced at her plate, poking the food idly, then added without looking up, “You should join the next one. Show them what real training looks like.”
Her words caught Adam off guard—not by their content, but the fact that Mei Lan, who used to barely speak to anyone, was the one who said them. Before he could respond, Han Feng gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder.
“Careful, Mei. Compliments like that might make people think you’re going soft.”
“I’ll freeze your chair,” she replied flatly, though a faint blush betrayed her.
The table burst into laughter—Zhou Ren’s was restrained and nasal, Shen Xinyi’s dry, Han Feng’s loud and unfiltered. Adam leaned back slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the easy camaraderie unfold.
He didn’t feel out of place. Despite everything—time, change, isolation—they had waited.
And now, he was back.
As the laughter began to settle and the group turned to their food, Adam leaned closer to Zhou Ren and nudged him with a knowing smirk.
He whispered, just low enough for the others not to hear, “Hey… is what I’m thinking happening?” His eyes subtly flicked toward Mei Lan and Han Feng, who were sitting just a little too close, their casual jabs hiding a comfort that hadn’t been there before.
Zhou Ren didn’t look up from his bowl. He calmly adjusted his sleeves and replied under his breath, “What you’re thinking… is exactly the thing that’s happening.”
Adam exhaled through his nose, grinning, “Well damn, the world did change while I was gone.”
The conversation soon shifted as Shen Xinyi placed her chopsticks down. “You missed a good tournament too. We had some real monsters show up this year.”
Zhou Ren nodded in agreement. “Especially in the Qi Condensation 8th realm and below category. The top talents this time around were no joke.”
“Lan Xiaoyan and Lan Xiaomei,” Han Feng said, pointing with a piece of meat on his chopsticks. “Siblings. Country folk, I think. The older one—Xiaoyan—he’s got scary control over his spells and martial forms. Uses both upper and lower dantians like it’s nothing. Real stable too. Won the whole damn thing.”
“And his sister’s no slouch either,” Shen Xinyi added. “Lan Xiaomei. More support-based. She fights with a dragon—life and water elements. Raised it herself. Healing, buffing, even fought off two opponents on her own using just coordination and the beast’s instincts.”
“Interesting…” Adam muttered.
Zhou Ren added, “There’s also Aria von Ebonreich. You’d remember that name—royal bloodline. Impeccable technique. Dangerous precision. The kind of person who wins fights before her opponent even knows they’ve lost.”
“They’re calling this group the Rising Four,” Mei Lan said quietly, still not looking up from her plate. “Talk’s going around that they’re going to represent the sect in the inter-regional trials next season.”
Adam leaned back slightly, absorbing all of it. A whole generation had grown up while he’d been locked away training. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel old, excited, or both.
As the conversation mellowed and bowls started to empty, Adam glanced around the table, a sudden thought surfacing.
“What about Bo Jin and Lian Hua?” he asked, his voice light, but tinged with curiosity.
The moment the names left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted. Subtle, but sharp. The table grew quiet, the cheerful energy bleeding away like color from a painting. Mei Lan paused mid-bite. Shen Xinyi leaned back, arms crossed. Zhou Ren looked down, and Han Feng exhaled heavily.
Zhou Ren was the one who answered. “There’s a war.”
Adam blinked. “A what?”
“A full-out war,” Shen Xinyi clarified, her tone grim. “Between Bo Jin’s clan and Kai Yun’s.”
Adam's eyes narrowed. “Kai Yun… the guy from the inner sect who used to act like he owned the place?”
Han Feng nodded. “Him. But this isn't just some inner-sect rivalry anymore. It escalated. Their clans are big—powerful. It’s not just politics now. People are dying.”
“And Lian Hua?” Adam asked quietly.
“She’s with Bo Jin,” Mei Lan said, voice low. “Her clan’s supporting his side. It's been going on for thirty years now. We don't even know how it really started. Just… it’s a mess. And it’s not ending anytime soon.”
For a moment, none of them spoke. The distant clatter of the cafeteria filled the silence like a noise too ordinary for the weight in their hearts.
Adam leaned back in his seat, eyes distant.
Thirty years... for me, it’s been just training. For them, it’s been war.

