"Disciple, don't think that far ahead."

Lin Yu yawned, "Focus on recovering from your injuries first. That old fellow just fed you a drop of spiritual liquid that's truly a good thing. Quickly circulate the 'Like Water Art' and don't let it go to waste."

"Also, the things you saw in that 'dream' of yours—strike while the iron is hot and quickly go over them in your mind. That is actually your biggest gain from this time."

Su Ming closed his eyes and complied, circulating his cultivation method.

As spiritual energy flowed within his body, he discovered that his 'Like Water Art' seemed to have undergone some subtle changes as well. The spiritual energy, which originally resembled a trickling stream, had now become more viscous and heavy. As it circulated, it faintly carried a hint of the rhythm of the earth veins.

It was the rhythm of breathing in unison with the great earth.

"It's truly good to be alive."

Su Ming softly sighed within his heart.

But he knew this was merely the beginning.

...

The cloud-piercing ship broke through layers of clouds, the dawn's early light dyeing the mist around Guiding Peak half-gold and half-purple.

Su Ming awoke amidst a slight jostling.

He did not open his eyes immediately. Instead, he instinctively held his breath, his right index finger imperceptibly hooking toward his sleeve cuff—a non-existent formation flag was hidden there. This was a habit he had developed in the ruins of Iron Wall Pass, a muscle memory named "always ready to fight for your life."

"Stop hooking. No bugs this time, just a group of fellow disciples."

Lin Yu's voice sounded lazily within the Consciousness Sea, carrying a hint of teasing, yet lacking the usual taut string of tension, "However, you should still take a look at your own body first."

Hearing this, Su Ming directed his spiritual sense inward.

Upon looking, his brow couldn't help but furrow slightly.

His meridians, originally depleted and even somewhat withered from using the 'Beacon Fire,' were now enveloped by a pale golden light membrane. This was not ordinary spiritual energy, but an aura that felt more substantial and weathered. The 'Like Water Art' within his body was still circulating on its own, but the water spiritual energy flowing through his meridians was no longer purely gentle and pliant. It now possessed a resilience akin to an underground river scouring against rocks.

Each cycle of spiritual energy would trigger an extremely minute pulsation at his Dantian's Qihai.

Thump. Thump.

It didn't sound like a heartbeat, but more like mountains breathing, the pulse of the earth miniaturized and contained within this mortal flesh and blood body.

The 'Border Defense True Seal' quietly hovered at the center of the Qihai, like a slumbering star. With Su Ming's breathing, it inhaled and exhaled the surrounding spiritual energy, transforming it into that special spiritual energy imbued with earth vein properties, nourishing his entire body in return.

His originally fractured ribs had already healed, even becoming harder than before.

"Feels different, right?"

Lin Yu's voice chimed in at the right moment, "If your spiritual energy before was like 'stream water'—flexible but lacking power—now this thing has mixed 'sand' and 'iron filings' into your spiritual energy. That old man used his own Golden Core as a furnace, refining the earth vein essence from half of Iron Wall Pass into this seal. Now it's all benefiting you, kid."

Su Ming slowly exhaled a mouthful of turbid air and opened his eyes.

Deep within his pupils, a flash of intertwined dark blue and pale golden light vanished in an instant.

"Turning misfortune into fortune, that's all," Su Ming responded in his heart, his tone so calm it betrayed no emotion, "This fortune is too heavy. It crushed tens of thousands to death. I'm just the lucky survivor who happened to pick up the pieces."

Lin Yu fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly, "Luck is also a form of strength. Alright, pack up this gloomy air. The ship has stopped. If that bunch outside sees you looking as mournful as if you've lost both parents, they'll definitely cook up some drama like 'Su Ming was scared out of his wits on the battlefield.'"

Su Ming adjusted his lapel.

That cyan outer sect disciple's robe was long past its original color, caked with dark red blood scabs, its cuffs burnt with several charred holes by sparks. But he did not change it, merely reaching out to pat off the long-dried dust on it.

"Let's go."

Su Ming stood up. His pace wasn't fast, but it was exceptionally steady.

...

Guiding Peak plaza.

Hundreds of disciples wearing robes of various colors were already waiting here. Among them were menial posts from the outer sect, elite disciples from the inner sect, and even several stewards who were usually as elusive as dragons appearing head but not tail had made an appearance.

News of the Iron Wall Pass tragedy had spread throughout the entire Cloud Hidden Sect overnight like a bitterly cold, sinister wind.

"I heard only one of the accompanying Technical Assistant Repair Specialists returned this time?"

"Exactly. Even a Golden Core elder fell. That Su Ming really has a tough life..."

"Tough life? I heard through the grapevine that some big shot protected him. And... he seems to have brought back something extraordinary."

Whispers of discussion buzzed like mosquitoes. Though voices were lowered, they sounded particularly piercing in the quiet early morning.

As the massive cloud-piercing warship overhead slowly descended, its airflow whirling up fallen leaves on the plaza, everyone's gaze focused on the slowly lowering hatch door.

The first to step out was Li Changfeng.

This Golden Core elder, usually quite gentle, now had a face as dark as water. His dark golden robe fluttered loudly in the wind, his entire body exuding a murderous aura that kept strangers at bay. His gaze swept over the crowd like a hawk's, and the originally somewhat noisy crowd instantly seemed choked, all discussion ceasing abruptly.

Immediately after.

A slightly thin figure walked out from the shadow behind Li Changfeng.

There was none of the expected high spirits, nor the weeping and wailing of someone who narrowly escaped death.

Su Ming simply walked out.

The morning sunlight spilled over him, yet could not penetrate that blood-stained cyan robe. His face was still somewhat pale, but those eyes were as calm as a deep, bottomless ancient well, without the slightest ripple.

The plaza experienced a momentary freeze.

Those gazes originally carrying scrutiny, jealousy, and curiosity instinctively flinched slightly upon touching the thick layer of blood scabs on Su Ming's body.

That was the murderous aura only carried by someone who had truly crawled out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.