Chapter 22: Great Achievement

I straightened my spine on the woven mat, rested my wrists over my knees, and closed my eyes once more.

Clearing away every lingering thought of sleep, I directed my divine sense inward to scan the dense, unyielding territory of my upper torso. Deep beneath my clavicle, near the junction where the shoulder connected to the chest, lay the dormant Celestial Spring Aperture, one of the key nodes required by the sutra’s water-phase route. Directly across from it, hidden beneath the breastbone, was the Spirit Terrace Aperture, linked to the earth-phase foundation.

Right now, both apertures were cold, hardened, and sealed shut like ancient stone gates jammed with millennia of calcified mud. Connecting them was an obstructed, dormant meridian, a hairline channel as thin as dried spider silk, completely choked off from my main energy flow.

Time to get to work.

I gathered a strand of pure Late-Stage Golden Core essence from my dantian. Under my conscious will, that golden liquid essence was drawn up the central spinal channel, compressing into a needle-thin, razor-sharp spike of golden energy.

I guided the spike straight toward the Celestial Spring Aperture, pressing the tip against the sealed gate.

Buzz—

A dull, throbbing ache flared beneath my collarbone as the obstruction resisted. Opening a sealed aperture was brutal work, you couldn’t simply blast it open with brute force like kicking down a wooden door. If your spiritual energy lacked control, the concussive shockwave would rupture the surrounding muscle tissue and permanently shatter the delicate energetic node.

You had to grind it open like a jeweler polishing raw stone.

I began rotating the golden qi needle at high speed, creating a microscopic, high-frequency vortex right against the seal. The calcified mundane grime and hardened impurities blocking the aperture began to chip away, flake by microscopic flake. Sweat formed at the corners of my brow as I maintained absolute, surgical precision over my dantian’s output.

Crack.

A tiny, almost imperceptible sound chimed inside my soul.

The hardened plug shattered, and the Celestial Spring Aperture sprang open. In that instant, a soothing, cooling void opened up beneath my shoulder.

I didn’t stop to admire it, opening the gate was only half the battle. A freshly forced aperture was raw, jagged, and fragile. If left unrefined, the first violent surge of Qi would cause it to collapse inward.

Immediately, I changed the nature of my qi, sending waves of pure, nourishing warmth into the hollow space. I washed the walls of the node over and over, coating the raw edges in golden essence, tempering and calcifying the lining until the newly opened cavity smoothed out, resembling a polished, jade-walled reservoir that hummed with quiet stability.

Next came the dormant meridian.

Taking that same refined thread of golden qi, I drove it forward from the Celestial Spring gate, carefully inching through the obstructed channel toward the chest. The choked path fought back, sending sharp, burning stabs of pain shooting along my ribs.

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the stinging ache with the cold detachment of an experienced cultivator. Pushing millimeter by millimeter, my qi flushed out the stagnant blood and mortal blockages, slowly expanding the threadbare vessel until it widened into a steady, open aqueduct.

Finally, the forward tip of the golden stream slammed into the second stone wall, the Spirit Terrace Aperture.

Repeating the same grinding process, I unleashed the spinning vortex of qi, drilling through the calcified barrier until it caved with a crisp snap. I flooded the second chamber with restorative essence, coating its interior in golden light until it locked into place, forming an open, unobstructed circuit between the two new nodes.

A deep sense of relief rushed through my chest as cool, unobstructed energy circulated smoothly through the fresh pathway.

By the time I slowly opened my eyes, the dark veil of night had completely vanished.

The soft, warm glow of the morning sun filtered down through the thick branches of the ancient banyan tree, dappling the stone terrace in golden light. The morning mist over the mountain was beginning to burn off, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth and blooming morning-glory vines.

Sitting under the tree, I took a long, deep breath and inspected my handiwork.

In a single night of focused meditation, I had successfully unlocked two complete apertures and cleared the connecting meridian, thoroughly refining every inch of the new path.

"Two gates and a channel in one night..." I shook my head, a broad, helpless grin breaking across my face.

In the past, with my hopelessly mediocre mortal roots, knocking open a single stubborn aperture took at least three weeks of agonizing, bone-grinding effort. The fact that I had drilled through two gates and refined a meridian in just a few hours proved just how absurdly overpowered my newly acquired Heaven-Grade Spiritual Roots truly were. My meridians were wider, my control was ten times sharper, and the surrounding qi entered my body effortlessly.

I chuckled quietly to myself. "Taking in that lass really was the best investment of my life."

I stood up from the woven mat, raising both arms over my head and letting out a long, satisfying stretch. A series of satisfying pops echoed down my spine like firecrackers.

With a casual flick of my fingers, I circulated a wisp of golden qi across the surface of my skin.

Fwump.

A faint, microscopic shockwave rippled out from my pores. Every speck of morning dew, settled dust, and dried sweat evaporated into thin air instantly, leaving my skin pristine, warm, and scented with faint sandalwood.

That was easily one of the greatest perks of walking the cultivation path; the body rejected mundane grime on an instinctual level, ensuring you stayed immaculate without needing mortal soaps.

Feeling completely refreshed, I dusted off the sleeves of my white robes and strolled out from beneath the banyan tree, heading toward the central courtyard.

The moment I stepped past the moon-gate into the paved courtyard, the rhythmic sound of heavy, disciplined breathing reached my ears.

Standing in the center of the terrace, bathed in the soft morning sunlight, was Shen Qingxue.

She was dressed in one of the spare moonlight-silk robes I had borrowed from my Senior Sister the night before. The luxurious, pale-blue fabric was slightly loose on her slender, emaciated frame, but the fine silk clung gracefully to the curves of her hips and waist as she moved. Her long raven hair was tied up into a clean, practical high ponytail, exposing the elegant, porcelain curve of her neck.