Nine Heavens Peak, Listening to Waves Small Pavilion.
It was deep winter, and the sky was as gloomy as lead.
Charcoal burned in a copper brazier indoors, occasionally popping with tiny sparks.
Li Yujun sat upright in a rosewood chair, holding a cup of warm honey water in both hands.
She looked out the window. The honey water in her cup gradually cooled, yet she did not take a single sip.
After roughly several dozen breaths, faint sounds arose from the corridor outside, footsteps drawing nearer from afar.
Then Nan Zhuoran's voice sounded. "Master."
"Come in." Li Yujun came back to herself. Her tone was calm, though somewhat lower than usual.
The door opened, and a gust of cold air swept in, stirring the hanging curtain.
Frost granules still clung to Nan Zhuoran's shoulders.
He stepped inside, his figure like a lone pine at a cliff's edge, his aura deep and restrained, hidden sharpness beneath the surface.
Li Yujun's divine sense swept silently over him, and a trace of satisfaction flashed through her eyes. "Has your cultivation been consolidated?"
"Reporting to Master, this disciple's cultivation has been completely consolidated."
Nan Zhuoran bowed. "Of the three supernatural skills in Patriarch Panwu's inheritance, two have reached perfection. Their power has increased by thirty percent compared to before my seclusion."
He paused, then continued, "As for that great supernatural skill, the Panwu Seal... its form has taken shape, and my comprehension of its true essence is around seventy percent."
At this point, Nan Zhuoran lifted his eyes. "But with this disciple's foundation at the complete Eleventh Refinement, below the Grandmaster realm, there should be few who can contend with me head-on."
His words were calm, yet they carried the near-absolute confidence forged through years of tempering.
He had been the Top True Disciple