Chapter 11: Five Years

Si Chen began his cultivation of the Yimu Everspring Art.

Yet his progress was, indeed, slow.

As the clan elders had said, it required no sudden epiphany, no innate talent — it was more like the stubborn persistence of water wearing down stone, demanding nothing but unwavering, sweat-soaked dedication.

His life settled into a rhythm of strict regularity.

Each morning, he would sit cross-legged beneath the ancient tree in the courtyard — a tree that had lived through more seasons than anyone could count — pressing his palms lightly against its rough bark, and there he would remain for the entire day.

In the first year, he felt nothing at all. It was no different from ordinary meditation.

In the second year, birds searching for food would occasionally land on his shoulders, tilting their heads to study this motionless human with their small, black-bead eyes, before fluttering away moments later.

In the third year, he began to sense something else — a slow, vast pulse, rising from deep beneath the earth, threading upward through roots that did not exist, strand by strand.

In the fourth year, one afternoon, he accidentally let a drop of sweat fall onto a blade of grass beneath him. The wilted, yellowed leaf unfurled and turned green again at a speed visible to the naked eye.

From that point on, change came quietly.

When he sat in stillness, a faint fragrance of grass and wood drifted from his body. When his fingertips brushed withered flower branches, new buds would sprout by the following morning.

He was no longer merely "cultivating" a technique — it felt more like carrying on a slow, enduring conversation with every living thing in the courtyard.

Spring gave way to autumn, and the old parasol tree outside the window shed its leaves and grew them back again. Five full cycles had passed.

Si Chen was twelve years old.

Five years — to a consciousness that had once gazed upon the birth and death of the cosmos, it was no more than in the blink of an eye. But to a mortal body, it was enough to leave clear and lasting marks.

He had grown considerably taller. The roundness of infancy had long since faded, and the contours of his face had sharpened, already hinting at the clean, handsome features of a young man.

Throughout those five years, he had not advanced his cultivation by even a fraction. Every ounce of his energy had been poured into the Yimu Everspring Art.

Ye Fu would often stand quietly beneath the covered walkway, watching him.

She noticed that her son's complexion had grown increasingly rosy, his breathing deeper and more tranquil, and the hidden dangers within his physical body seemed to have been gradually smoothed away.

Seeing this filled her heart with quiet joy, and the worry she had carried for five years finally settled, just a little, back into place.

The Yimu Everspring Art was unlike most cultivation techniques in the world, which pursued raw power and swift results. It had no stages, no bottlenecks to speak of.

Its entire secret lay in two words: accumulation.

Like the growth rings of a tree — ring upon ring — it appeared utterly unremarkable at first, indistinguishable from ordinary sitting meditation.

But time would grant it strength. One year, ten years, one hundred years… The longer one cultivated, the deeper the foundation took root, the more completely the physical body was nourished and fortified — like an ancient tree of many years, outwardly still and unassuming, yet inwardly brimming with tremendous vitality.

On this particular day, Si Chen sat beneath the old tree as he always did.

His breathing was steady, and his entire being seemed to merge with the breath of the grass and trees around the courtyard.

Then, all at once, something stirred within him. He slowly opened his eyes.

He looked down at his open palms — fingers long and slender, the frame of a young man already filling out — and he could feel it: deep within his flesh and blood, a surging, solid vitality, as firm and far-reaching as the roots of an ancient tree.

Five years of accumulation. Though it was only the first step on this ancient technique's long road, the once-fragile vessel had now been filled with life and resilience.

He felt it. The time had come.

* * *

"Father, Mother — I want to try the Nine Tribulation Thunder Body."

Si Kai looked at his son standing before him, eyes calm and steady. At twelve, the boy stood straight and tall, already carrying the first traces of a young man's bearing. Though a thousand worries churned in his heart, in the end they all distilled into a single question: "Have you thought it through?"

Si Chen gave a single nod. "I'm ready."

Ye Fu stood at her husband's side. Her lips parted slightly, but in the end she said nothing, only pressed her worry deep behind her eyes.

She knew her son. Once he made a decision, he would not turn back.

For five years, she had watched him sit in stillness day after day. That patience and resolve, so far beyond his years, had made her understand: the path this child had chosen to walk — no one could stop him.

"Very well." Si Kai gave a slow nod. "The clan will prepare everything for you."

The Si Clan never did things halfway. Once a decision was made, all preparations had long since been set in place.

In the mountains behind the clan grounds, a forbidden area had been specially opened for him.

Array Formations had already been laid down in layers — capable of gathering the Spiritual Energy of heaven and earth, and of drawing down the thunder of the nine heavens. Every manner of Pill and Magical Artifact needed to address any unforeseen danger had been assembled and stood ready, waiting for this very moment.

Si Chen looked at his parents, and a thread of warmth moved through his heart.

He rose to his feet, stepped back one pace, and bowed to them both with solemn respect. "Chen has caused Father and Mother much worry."

This wholehearted support and protection — it was one of the most precious "laws" he had come to know within this mortal body.

* * *

The next day, Third Uncle Si Shuo placed a jade slip inscribed with the Nine Tribulation Thunder Body into Si Chen's hands.

This uncle, who was usually so carefree and full of jokes, wore an expression that was, for once, entirely serious.

"Kid," he said, clapping Si Chen on the shoulder with a firm but measured hand, "this thing is nothing like the Yimu Everspring Art — it's got no gentleness in it at all. What's recorded inside — read it carefully. Not a single detail can be overlooked."

Si Chen accepted the jade slip and offered his thanks.

He then returned to his secret chamber and spent an entire day in focused study.

The philosophy of the Yimu Everspring Art and the Nine Tribulation Thunder Body could not have been more different.

The former was about nourishment, about merging, about coexistence. The latter was about plunder, about conquest.

The technique divided the power of thunder into nine tribulations — each tribulation a higher heaven.

What he now had to face was the First Tribulation: the Tribulation of Yin Thunder, also known as Mortal Thunder.

This thunder was born between mountains, rivers, clouds, and rain — the most common and yet the most "feeble" thunder that the mortal world could reach.

But even this weakest of mortal thunders carried a stern and forbidding weight in the jade slip's description…

"Heaven's might is a prison. Touch it and be burned. Draw thunder into the body — nine deaths for every one survival."

Survive it, and the physical body would be reborn, power surging to new heights.

Fail, and at best every Meridian would be destroyed; at worst, death would claim body and Dao alike, soul and spirit scattered to nothing.

Over the following days, he did not immediately set out for the forbidden area in the rear mountains.

Instead, following the technique's instructions, he adjusted his condition — slowly guiding the vast, surging vitality accumulated over five years of the Yimu Everspring Art through every limb and bone, bringing his body to a state of fullness and readiness, poised at its peak.

* * *

On the appointed day, the sky was overcast, and the air carried the damp, heavy scent of mountain rain on its way.

Si Chen changed into a clean set of blue cloth robes and walked out of the courtyard.

His father and mother, Second Uncle, Third Uncle, and several of the core clan elders were already waiting outside. No one wasted words. When their eyes met, what passed between them was the same quiet concern.

"Let's go." Si Kai said, his voice low and steady.

The group moved in silence through pavilions and corridors, making their way toward the mountains behind the clan grounds.

At the center of the forbidden area lay a flat expanse of black rock. Nine stone pillars carved with runes stood arrayed around it. The Array Formation had already begun to glow faintly, spiritual light flowing through it, resonating in a subtle harmony with the storm clouds gathering overhead.

"Chen," Ye Fu finally could not hold back. She stepped forward and straightened her son's collar — which was not actually out of place — and said softly, "Be careful. Please."

"Mother, don't worry." Si Chen gently patted her hand, his voice calm and warm.

His gaze swept over every family member present. He gave them each a nod, then turned without further hesitation and walked alone into the center of the Array Formation, sitting down cross-legged.

The sky grew darker still. Within the clouds, flickers of lightning began to stir.

Third Uncle Si Shuo rubbed his hands together anxiously and murmured to Si Che beside him, "Second Brother, why is my heart pounding so fast…"

Second Uncle Si Che's expression was grave, his gaze locked on his nephew within the formation. "Shut up and watch the array."

Si Chen closed his eyes and sank his mind inward.

The wind rose, carrying a bone-deep chill, stirring the ribbon in his hair.

He could feel it clearly — a destructive force gathering and building in the depths of the clouds, cold and violent, forming a stark and absolute contrast with the warm, surging vitality of wood and life within his body.

Life and destruction. Nourishment and annihilation. They were about to meet.

Si Chen slowly lifted his gaze to the oppressive sky above, his eyes as still and deep as water.

Come.