After night fell, Feng Lingtian had already gone to bed.
Half asleep, he heard the door being gently pushed open. He did not open his eyes, only caught a faint medicinal fragrance-the same scent his mother carried.
Bai Qingyin stood beside his bed for a long time. Only after making sure she had not woken him did she set a small cloth bundle on the table and tiptoe out.
Inside the bundle were several new medicinal herbs of excellent quality, wrapped in layers of oiled paper to keep out damp and insects. Beside them lay a small note in Bai Qingyin's graceful handwriting: "Enough herbs for another ten batches. There's no rush. Take your time."
Feng Lingtian only discovered it the next morning.
Holding the note, he remained silent for a long time, then tucked it into the deepest part of his drawer, together with the True Explanation of the Dao of Alchemy.
It was now the fourth day after the Foundation-Fortifying and Essence-Nurturing Powder had been successfully refined.
In the courtyard, Feng Xiaotian sat cross-legged beneath the parasol tree, his eyes lightly closed. Green Soul Power rippled around him in waves. Morning light filtered through the branches and leaves, dappling his body with light and shadow.
For the past month, Feng Xiaotian had been honing his Soul Power.
He had reached rank thirty long ago. With his gift of innate full Soul Power, he could have gone hunting for his third Soul Ring at any time, but he had stubbornly held back. Every day, he cultivated as usual, repeatedly compressing and purifying his overflowing Soul Power, refusing to take that final step.
He was waiting for his younger brother to be ready. At the same time, he was honing his own Soul Power.
Their father, Feng Qingxuan, had said there was no need to rush a breakthrough in rank. Holding back and repeatedly compressing and purifying the overflowing Soul Power, bringing about a change in its "quality," was more valuable than simply breaking through. Beyond rank thirty, every increase in rank required a firmer foundation, and that foundation was laid at this stage.
As it happened, Feng Xiaotian had always had a vague idea in mind-to use wind-attribute Soul Power to form vortices beneath his feet, allowing high-speed movement over short distances. Not straight-line dashes, but instantaneous shifts between multiple angles at high frequency. This required extraordinarily fine control over Soul Power, and the process of honing his Soul Power was precisely the best opportunity to practice that control.
So for the past month, he had honed his Soul Power by day and worked out the circulation routes for his footwork by night. He had failed more times than he could count, bruising his knees and elbows black and blue in falls, but had never said a word about it.
At that moment, wind suddenly rose in the courtyard.
The green Soul Power around Feng Xiaotian abruptly contracted and expanded. The two Soul Rings beneath his feet lit up together-the first Soul Ring deep yellow, the second Soul Ring purple tinged with yellow. Both rings spun rapidly, giving off a vibrating hum.
Immediately afterward, a more condensed fluctuation of Soul Power surged from within him. It was not a breakthrough-he had long since reached rank thirty-but compression. After a month of repeated honing, the Soul Power within him had become purer, flowing through his meridians like liquid jade, its edges holding together without dispersing, with a faint sound of howling wind.
Leaves shaken loose from the parasol tree by the rushing air fluttered down like green butterflies. Feng Xiaotian opened his eyes, a sharp gleam flashing through them.
Feng Lingtian stepped forward and stood beside his older brother.
"Brother, how does it feel after holding back your rank for a month?"
Feng Xiaotian raised his hand and condensed a mass of green Soul Power. It was more solid than it had been a month ago, its edges almost congealed into substance, giving off a low hum as it swirled in his palm.
"Holding back my rank really did work well." He felt the surging, pure Soul Power within him. "The 'quality' of Soul Power matters more than its 'quantity.' Dad was right. The foundation I've built this month did more for me than half a year of normal cultivation."
The moment he finished speaking, his figure suddenly flickered. His feet alternated rapidly in tiny movements, forming two green vortices beneath them that were barely visible to the naked eye. His entire body shifted instantaneously between three positions-left, right, and his original spot-so quickly that Feng Lingtian's eyes could barely keep up.
Feng Xiaotian came to a stop, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and turned toward his younger brother.
"This is Gale Flash Step. It hasn't fully taken shape yet, but I can already use it in actual combat." He paused. "You're an agility attack type. You can learn this footwork later, too."
Feng Lingtian nodded in response, then took a porcelain bottle from inside his clothes, poured out two pale-yellow pellets of medicinal powder, and offered one to him.
Feng Xiaotian accepted it and held it beneath his nose for a sniff, his brows lifting slightly.
"Foundation-Fortifying and Essence-Nurturing Powder?"
"You recognize it?"
"A few of the herbs in Dad's medicinal bath formula overlap with this. After soaking in it for so many years, I can tell by the smell." Feng Xiaotian tucked the medicinal powder close to his body and looked at his younger brother. "Are you planning to use this to absorb a Soul Ring beyond your limit?"
Feng Lingtian did not hide it. He nodded. "A Wind-Chasing Falcon. Six hundred years."
Feng Xiaotian fell silent for a moment.
Six hundred years. Back then, he had already risked his life for five hundred and eighty years, yet his younger brother was asking for six hundred right from the start. But he did not try to dissuade him, only asked, "Are you confident now?"
"Yes." Feng Lingtian's voice was calm and certain.
Feng Xiaotian looked into his younger brother's eyes. There was no putting on a brave face, no impulsiveness, only a steadiness and seriousness beyond his years.
"All right." He stood up. "Then tomorrow, we head into the mountains."
The door curtain fell, and the footsteps receded.
Feng Lingtian tightened his grip on the porcelain bottle and looked out the window.
The outline of the Heavenly Wind Mountain Range loomed faintly in the dusk, like an enormous beast lying low.
He suddenly recalled something-the gray bird outside the window today, when he had been reading the True Explanation of the Dao of Alchemy in his mother's courtyard. It had stayed on the branch for a long time, tilting its head to look into the room. It had not seemed like an ordinary bird.
Was it a coincidence?
Feng Lingtian frowned, then shook his head. Perhaps he was overthinking it.
The moon stood high overhead, and Feng Xiaotian had already gone to bed.
Feng Lingtian, however, sat at the table, poured a pellet of Foundation-Fortifying and Essence-Nurturing Powder from the porcelain bottle, and put it in his mouth.
As the medicinal powder went down his throat, a warm current rose from his stomach and spread through his limbs and bones. He closed his eyes to feel it-the medicinal effect lasted about a quarter of an hour, increasing the load his meridians could bear by roughly thirty percent.
"That's enough," he murmured to himself, putting away the porcelain bottle and blowing out the oil lamp.
In the latter half of the night.
Feng Lingtian woke from a dream, unable to say what had disturbed him. Moonlight spilled through the window lattice, spreading a sheet of silver-white across the floor. He rolled over and sat up, his gaze inadvertently sweeping across the windowsill.
Then he froze.
A feather lay silently on the windowsill.
Silver-gray, with pale-gold patterns along its edges, it gave off a faint glow in the moonlight. It was exactly like the peregrine falcon wings that had appeared during his martial soul awakening.
Feng Lingtian walked over and picked up the feather.
It felt cool yet warm to the touch. Rather than something shed by a living creature, it seemed to have been condensed from pure Soul Power. An extremely faint halo encircled the base of the feather, dissipating at a rate visible to the naked eye.
Someone-or something-had visited his windowsill while he slept.
Feng Lingtian gripped the feather, walked to the window, and looked outside.
Beneath the moonlight, the parasol tree's shadows swayed, and all was silent beyond the courtyard wall. In the direction of the Heavenly Wind Mountain Range, there was only pitch darkness. He could see nothing.
But the feather grew slightly warm in his palm.
Just then, another clear cry came from the direction of the Heavenly Wind Mountain Range.
Closer than last time.
Feng Lingtian abruptly raised his head and looked out the window. Beneath the moonlight, the outline of the Heavenly Wind Mountain Range remained pitch-black. He could see nothing.
But he could feel it-that thing was drawing closer.