The Immortal Path Is Crowded

The sunlight filtered through the treetops of the forest, casting beams of light over a crystal-clear lake, so still that it looked like a mirror of the sky. At its center, floating on his back, was a fifteen-year-old young man.

His body was a work of precision and balance: compact muscles, defined exactly where they needed to be, without excess or weakness. It was not a bulky physique, but a sharp one, refined through constant effort. Every line suggested contained power, as if beneath that skin lay a force capable of unleashing devastating violence at any moment.

However, that perfection was far from intact.

Dark bruises stained his skin, some recent, others already turning yellowish. Superficial cuts ran across his arms, shoulders, and ribs, still-red scars that spoke of repeated blows and merciless falls. If not for those marks, he would have looked like a statue sculpted by divine hands; with them, however, he emanated a fierce, wild aura, like that of a young beast forged through pain.

He remained motionless for long seconds, supported by the cold water, until finally his eyelids opened.

A pair of golden eyes emerged into the light, clear and deep, reflecting the sky fragmented by the leaves. The young man let out a long sigh, one that seemed to have been held for far too long, as if with it he expelled exhaustion, tension… and something heavier.

The water rippled gently around him.

With a calm movement, he turned his body and began to move toward the shore.

Jin fully emerged from the lake and planted a firm foot on the edge. The cold of the water still clung to his skin, but he paid it no mind. First, he stretched his body calmly, raising his arms, rotating his shoulders and waist, letting his muscles protest with a dull and familiar pain. Each movement made the recent punishment evident, but also that his body was already adapting to it.

After that, he found a nearby flat rock, settled into a lotus position, and closed his eyes, letting calm envelop him.

Qi began to circulate naturally through his meridians, stable, obedient. A gentle warmth spread from his dantian, flowing through his torso and limbs. Steam rose slowly from his skin as the water evaporated, until his body was completely dry, as if he had never been submerged in the lake.

Jin opened his eyes and stood up.

He walked to where he had left his clothes: his pants and robe carelessly folded over a rock. He put them on with calm, practiced movements, and then took a simple dark thread. He raised his hands and began to gather his long hair, mixed with golden and black tones, tying it carefully into a ponytail that fell down his back.

As he adjusted the knot, he couldn’t help but frown.

“Tch…” he muttered to himself. “Senior sister Mei… really went too far this time.”

He recalled the relentless training of senior sister Mei. His mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Just because I managed to graze her clothes with the spear…” he continued, clearly indignant. “Was it really necessary to beat me that brutally?”

He tightened the last part of the thread and let his arms fall, looking for a moment toward the lake.

“She definitely took it personally…” he added in a low voice, with a tired sigh, while the lingering pain in his body seemed to confirm every one of his words.

Jin moved along the path that led back to the main routes of the sect, the soft sound of his steps blending with the murmur of the wind through the trees. As he walked, his mind naturally drifted back, reviewing the eight months that had passed almost without him noticing.

Time… really flew.

At the beginning, the training with senior sister Mei had been pure hell, every mistake in combat punished without mercy. But little by little, without him even noticing when the change happened, wooden weapons gave way to metal ones. The weight was different, the balance more demanding, and every strike carried a much clearer intention: To injure.

Not only that, but Mei had directly intervened in his Qi cultivation.

As he moved along the path, Jin let his Qi flow consciously. The energy emerged from his dantian like a serene but firm river, running through his meridians with almost perfect precision. It passed through his back, descended through his legs, rose again through his torso, and extended into his arms. There were no blockages, no turbulence. Every cycle was smooth, efficient, as if his body had been designed for it.

A faint exhale escaped his lips.

Eight months of harsh training, of constant pain, of falls and brutal corrections…

“Seventh level of Qi Condensation…” he thought, with a mix of disbelief and restrained satisfaction.

If someone had told him at the beginning, he wouldn’t have believed it. For someone with his “talents,” advancing this far in such a short time wasn’t just rare… it was unexpected even by the most optimistic standards.

Jin let out a slow breath as he walked, and among all the memories of those eight months, one stood out with absolute clarity.

If he had to point out the most important part of that time… it wasn’t the beatings, nor the weapon training, nor even the progress of his Qi.

It was senior sister Mei’s intervention in his body cultivation method, the Jade Dragon Body.

Jin slightly clenched his fingers, feeling the firmness that now existed beneath his skin. It wasn’t an illusion. His body was different.

From what she herself had mentioned—in one of those rare moments when she spoke about her past—when she was still in Qi Condensation, she had trained the main body cultivation method of Jade Peak… and also the most difficult one. She had managed to push it to the second level, but had stopped there. Unable to advance further, she had ultimately switched methods.

Even so, her teachings did not lose value; on the contrary, senior sister Mei’s precision was terrifying.

Every strike she delivered during training was not random. Each impact landed exactly where it needed to: specific muscles, points of tension, areas where Qi had to be forced to circulate. Her control was so refined that Jin had come to suspect she knew his body better than he did himself.

His progress had been steady, brutal, and effective because of that, and he couldn’t help but think with a slight grimace: “If it weren’t for her…”

Without that surgical precision in striking the required points, training the Jade Dragon Body would have been reckless suicide. But with Mei guiding him—even if through blows—Jin had managed to consolidate every step.

With certainty, he understood that he had reached the peak of the first level of the Jade Dragon Body.

There were no cracks, no evident weaknesses. His flesh was dense, his bones resilient, and beneath his skin pulsed a contained, silent strength, like a sleeping dragon waiting for the right moment to awaken.

Jin raised his gaze, his golden eyes faintly gleaming; reaching the second level of the Jade Dragon Body was only a matter of time. A few moments later…

He passed through the area where the outer disciples’ cabins were aligned, a place that felt almost foreign to him despite having lived there for months. The dirt path, the simple wooden and stone structures, and the distant murmur of other disciples formed a familiar scene… but to him, it felt like returning to a place he had left behind long ago.

During those months of training, Jin had barely had any contact with anyone, except for a few occasions with brother Lian Xuan. As he walked, he recalled his face and frowned: Lian Xuan had barely reached the fifth level of Qi Condensation, something that puzzled him.

Not out of disdain, but pure logic. In terms of talent, he should have advanced faster than him. Jin had never seen him impatient or careless; on the contrary, his cultivation was solid, methodical.

Jin thought that perhaps he had chosen a more stable path, or simply had not forced anything. He shook his head and continued walking until he stood in front of his own cabin.

The door creaked softly as it opened. The interior remained just as austere: a simple bed, a table, and little else. Without wasting time, Jin crouched down, reached under the bed, and pulled out a bag he had kept there for months.

He held it for a moment, letting its weight and contents speak for themselves, and then left the cabin without looking back.

His steps guided him out of the residential area, entering paths that gradually moved away from the cabins. He walked for several minutes.

Before, that same route would have taken him an hour. Now, with his advancement in cultivation, his stride was firm, light, almost effortless. Each step covered a distance that once would have seemed absurd.

The wind brushed against his robe as he moved toward a specific place.

Jin stopped in front of an imposing hall, built almost entirely from dark gray stone with metallic finishes. It wasn’t as vast or majestic as the Alchemy Peak shop he had seen once before, but it still commanded respect just by looking at it.

Above the entrance, carved with firm, angular strokes, stood three large characters: Eternal Steel Peak Branch.

The Eternal Steel Peak Branch did not deal in pills or mystical techniques. Its focus was simple and direct: crafting artifacts and weapons of all kinds.

Jin took a few more steps forward, lifting his gaze to observe the structure calmly. “So… this is the place,” he thought, wondering why he was in a place like this. The answer was clear: senior sister Mei’s words still echoed strongly in his mind.

“Your personal training is over.”

“From now on, you need real experience.”

“Before accepting a mission outside the sect, get yourself a proper weapon.”

Jin slightly tightened the bag he carried with him.

For eight months, he had trained without rest. He had strengthened his body, refined his Qi control, and polished his weapon handling… but most of that had been done with practice weapons or mundane metal.

If he wanted to leave the sect and face the outside world, Jin knew he needed more than technique; he needed a real weapon. He crossed the threshold of the hall and, for a moment, the surprise made him stop: the interior was far more elegant than he had imagined.

The dark stone walls were carefully polished, traced with metallic veins that glowed softly under the light of arrays embedded in the ceiling. The space was wide and orderly, with no trace of the chaos one might expect from a place dedicated to forging.

On both sides of the hall, glass showcases stood in strategic positions: spaced enough to allow room, yet arranged so all could be seen from the center. Inside them were weapons of every kind.

Long and short swords, their blades reflecting the light.

Refined bows, spears, halberds, axes… even heavy hammers, brutal in appearance but bearing fine engravings that revealed careful craftsmanship.

Some weapons emitted a faint glow.

Jin walked forward at a calm pace, observing his surroundings. Several disciples were scattered throughout the hall, some examining showcases with focused expressions, others speaking in low voices with attendants.

After a brief look around, Jin spotted what seemed to be an empty area with a reception.

A long counter of dark wood reinforced with metal, behind which sat a disciple in an inelegant posture, his chin resting on one hand and his gaze unfocused, clearly bored.

However, the moment his eyes landed on Jin approaching…

The disciple straightened abruptly, as if someone had injected energy directly into him. His eyes lit up in an almost exaggerated way, scanning Jin from head to toe in an instant.

He didn’t look at him like a person, but as if he were a walking sack of spirit stones.

“Junior brother,” he said immediately, with a wide, professional smile that appeared out of nowhere. “Are you looking for a weapon? A defensive artifact? Or perhaps something custom-made?”

In a single blink, his tone shifted from absolute boredom to pure enthusiasm. Jin raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise: at least in this place, business never slept.