Qi Condensation!

Cicadas chirped and birds cried under a high, scorching sun.

The blistering heat had baked the earth into a wretched state. The crops in the fields lay withered and collapsed. Men desperately carried muddy water from the ditches, carefully trickling it over the roots drop by drop, but within moments, the sun scorched it dry, leaving only a trace of dampness to the touch.

Now and then, beasts and birds from the mountains descended, warily watching the humans before crouching by the ditches to drink, even if only a shallow layer of mud remained at the bottom.

Yet even so, men wielding wooden clubs drove them away. They feared the wild beasts might harm someone, but more importantly, the water was precious.

"Damn it, this life is unlivable!" one man cried out, collapsing in sheer exhaustion and despair. He sprawled on the ground, cursing the heavens.

"Heavens above, if you don't send down rain soon, we truly won't survive!"

Yet after his cursing, he struggled back to his feet, hoisted his carrying pole, and rushed back to the ditch. He repeated this endless cycle of irrigation until the sun finally set.

Such scenes played out continuously in Baixi Village, Baishi Township, throughout Qingshui County, Zhaoping Prefecture, and even across most of Nanyang Prefecture's fields.

Starting three years ago, Nanyang Prefecture had grown harsher and more arid with each passing year. This year was the worst of all; not a single drop of rain had fallen since the spring. Even the Baixi River, which had never run dry in decades, was parched down to its stony bed.

Wails of misery echoed across Nanyang Prefecture. In some areas, the drought had already turned into a full-scale famine, leaving tens of thousands displaced and countless dead from starvation.

---

The Zhou Family Mansion

Zhou Changhe was directing the retainers as they dug a third well in the side courtyard. He did not expect it to be abundant; so long as it provided enough water for the household's drinking and cooking, he would be content.

Three years had passed, and the Zhou family courtyard had changed tremendously.

The low-lying quarters at the four corners had been rebuilt with high walls, connected to the main Zhou courtyard to form a massive nine-grid layout. The Zhou family estate now occupied over seven mu of land, measuring more than twenty zhang in both length and width.

Even the outer walls had been raised to a zhang in height, with watchtowers erected in several key positions.

Zhou Changhe had spared no expense to build these defenses for his family's safety. Ever since the weather began to change three years ago, a sense of foreboding had gripped him. He had reduced the sale of the family's grain, storing it away in underground cellars and granaries instead.

He high-built the walls and continuously trained the estate guards and retainers.

Particularly from the beginning of this year, the Wang, Sun, and Zhou families had jointly decided to halt all grain sales entirely.

Although they lived deep in the remote mountains and remained isolated from news-not yet knowing that a severe famine had broken out elsewhere-they were by no means foolish.

On the contrary, wealthy landowning households were always the most likely to survive a disaster.

Take the Zhou family, for instance. Their cellars held at least a thousand dan of grain. With the entire Zhou household, including guards, numbering only fifty to sixty people, the stores would last them several years if they only fed themselves.

Zhou Changhe feared that natural disasters would inevitably breed man-made calamities. He prepared for everything to ensure they had contingencies in place.

After all, when people were pushed to the brink of survival, they were capable of any atrocity. When the time came, even if their family possessed an immortal master, the starving refugees might still storm the gates and sack the estate.

"Eldest Young Master, we've hit water! We've hit water!" a voice shouted from the deep pit, bringing a wave of joy to the surrounding crowd.

Zhou Changhe pondered for a moment before calling down, "Before the water rises, dig another zhang deeper."

"A wise decision, Eldest Young Master," Zhou Shi said with a grin. "You lot, put some strength into it! Haul this silt to the fields as well-don't waste a single bit."

Zhou Changhe then sat down to the side and calmly sipped his tea. In truth, his eyes kept drifting toward a small side door, waiting anxiously for good news.

On the surface, they were digging a well today, but in secret, Zhou Ping was attempting to break through his bottleneck. To ensure absolute security, Zhou Changhe had used the well-digging as a pretext to gather a portion of the guards here.

---

In the Second Branch Courtyard

Chen Nianqiu sat beneath the pavilion, cradling Zhou Bai in her arms. Zhou Minghu and Zhou Xuanya sat beside their mother, occasionally teasing the infant and drawing joyful laughter from the child. The mother and her children presented a picture of warmth and peace.

Yet hidden within Zhou Minghu's sleeve, a small flying sword rested, its power poised to strike at a moment's notice. Beside Zhou Xuanya lay an old, rusted iron spear; dark red stains filled the grooves of the weapon like dried blood, exuding a fierce and ominous aura.

Breaking through to Qi Condensation was no small matter. It was the first great hurdle on the path of cultivation, a barrier that had broken the spirits of countless aspirants. Step forward, and the hope of immortality and transcendence awaited; step back, and one remained an ant in the mortal world for the rest of his days.

The breakthrough carried a true crisis of life and death. If it failed, the backlash of Spiritual Qi would ensue-severe injury at best, and death at worst.

Chen Nianqiu believed Zhou Ping was merely engaging in routine cultivation, but Zhou Minghu and his brother knew the truth. Though they appeared calm on the surface, anxiety gnawed at their hearts, and their eyes constantly flickered toward the closed doors of the house.

Had they not sensed that the aura inside remained steady, long, and progressively stronger, they would have rushed in long ago.

As for the rest of the Zhou family, they were entirely unaware of Zhou Ping's impending breakthrough, viewing this as just another ordinary day.

---

Inside the Chamber

Zhou Ping sat cross-legged with his eyes tightly shut, his breath flowing like a tranquil stream-distant, slow, and deep.

Then, drawing a deep breath into his chest, a subtle, extraordinary transformation began within his flesh.

In his lower abdomen, the Spiritual Qi circulating through his meridians began to gather bit by bit, condensing into wisps of hazy spiritual energy that radiated a gentle warmth. Zhou Ping emptied his mind, casting away all distracting thoughts, and silently recited his incantation.

"Clear the heart to guide the spirit; let the white soul assist the mind. Illuminate the nature to see the truth; the blazing fire shines bright and pure..."

The fifteen strands of Spiritual Qi within his body began to surge, converging into a swirling vortex of light that emitted a pure white, blazing radiance.

Zhou Ping felt his mind and spirit growing heavy with fatigue-the price of forcefully drawing and binding the Spiritual Qi.

Many cultivators with a low spiritual root aptitude of two cun failed their breakthroughs precisely because their sparse Spiritual Qi demanded far more mental control. It was like attempting to build the same grand structure with far fewer materials; every single strand of Spiritual Qi had to be pushed to its absolute limit without the slightest waste.

Ultimately, most failed because their mental strength gave out before the process finished.

Zhou Ping's total Spiritual Qi was already one strand short of the traditional threshold, which meant the time available for his breakthrough was even shorter.

He could only race against time, focusing his entire mind to command the Spiritual Qi to condense. His aura grew steadily heavier, and a faint, intangible pressure began to emanate from his body.

From all directions, thin, sparse traces of the world's spiritual energy slowly gathered, entering his pores and flowing toward his lower abdomen, causing his chest to rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern.

The vortex of energy compressed tighter and tighter, until it finally coalesced into a single, grain-sized speck of white light. By this point, he was drenched in sweat, blood rushed to his face, and his entire body trembled violently.

"Spiritual essence unite as one; a hundred convergences merge..."

"Open!"

With a silent shout in his heart, the grain of white light trembled violently. A burst of immense power suddenly erupted from within, as if an explosion had shattered the void!

A tiny, primordial space was forced open by the white light. Zhou Ping felt a rush of profound joy-that hidden space was the Dantian, the true sanctuary where a cultivator's Spiritual Qi resided!

Yet just as success hung within his grasp, the momentum of the white light began to wane. His reserves of Spiritual Qi were simply too thin.

Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the gourd at his side, taking a violent gulp. The pungent, burning liquid instantly coursed down his throat and into his stomach, carrying a nauseating, iron-like taste of blood.

Yet within that liquid lay a concentrated trace of spiritual energy. He absorbed and refined it instantly. Though it amounted to less than a tenth of a normal strand, it provided the vital spark needed to sustain the fading white light, allowing it to slowly push open the boundaries of the space.

Finally, a muffled roar echoed within his mind.

Zhou Ping collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent and drenched in a sheet of sweat, yet a triumphant smile broke across his face. Within his lower abdomen, a cavity the size of a small bean had formed within his flesh-empty, yet perfectly defined. His Dantian had opened.

After more than twenty years of seeking the Dao, he had finally stepped into the realm of Qi Condensation!

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