Inside a sealed, silent training room in Pingtian Academy's Martial Hall.
Hazy spirit energy drifted and swirled throughout the room. The ambient spirit energy here was mild and rich, its wisps winding through every corner.
The faint musk of an exotic beast lingered, smoothing the lake of the mind and steadying the divine soul. It lent the entire space a peaceful, soundless stillness, free of the outside world's clamor-the ideal place to quiet the mind, comprehend the Dao, and study martial arts.
Yang Jing sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion in the corner, his back straight and his eyes gently closed. His aura was drawn inward, his entire being immersed in quiet breath regulation.
Neither impatient nor agitated, he slowly adjusted his breathing, each inhalation and exhalation long and even, rising and falling in measured rhythm.
He let the dense spirit energy around him seep slowly into his meridians and nourish his divine soul, soothing the lingering excitement and tremors in his heart bit by bit. He shed every restless, distracting thought, bringing his mind into its ideal state: clear and empty, like still water without a ripple.
He now stood at true qi peak. In a certain sense, this meant he had reached the end of the mortal martial path.
With a clear mind, he settled on his next goal-to enter the core realm that countless cultivators dreamed of and knock open the gate to martial transcendence.
As his mind settled, the many things he knew about core realm cultivation slowly surfaced of their own accord.
Ever since stepping onto the martial path, he had often gathered fragments of information about higher realms from sect texts, elders' accounts, and casual conversations with fellow disciples.
His cultivation had been low before, and the core realm lay ten thousand miles away.