Chương 11: 1.11 Small Success

It was early morning, and Ning sat cross-legged near the Fushan River. A wooden fishing rod balanced between two stones, to catch any fish that appeared. Since it was the most yang period, cultivating was ill-advised, so he naturally turned to the next best thing. After all, it was not wise to just waste precious hours that could lead to improvement. He took out one of the prepared leaves, pressed it to his forehead, and closed his eyes.

The leaf trembled, slid half an inch, then stuck in place as he guided a faint thread of qi upward. Stable. He didn't let himself relax. Instead, he locked his focus tighter, refusing to let even a flicker slip. He'd been at this for days. And what exactly was this? Control drills. A basic exercise to sharpen his grasp of spiritual energy. From everything he'd read and watched back on Earth, Ning knew raw strength was useful, but refined control was terrifying.

A master didn't waste power; they cut mountains with a drop, shattered stone with a breath. Precision made strength matter. So, yeah, he was brushing up on his control. At first, Ning assumed the sect would teach drills like these on day one. Surely, they wouldn't let disciples stumble blind. But when he asked Old Zhou, the old man had only chuckled and said control would "come naturally" with time and martial practice. That answer didn't satisfy him.

"Impossible. A sect this big, with qi at the core of everything, and not a single structured control method? Either I'm too low to see it, or they keep it locked away." The latter made more sense. Knowledge here was guarded like treasure. Even the Scripture Pavilion stayed shut until the outer disciple status. To Ning, it felt absurdly familiar, like stumbling into an RPG where whole regions of the map were greyed out until you reached a sufficient level.

If basic skills like this weren't openly shared, then for ordinary folk, stumbling forward in the dark was the norm.

"Fortunately," Ning muttered, "All those late-night anime binges are going to be useful." Hence, the leaf-sticking exercise. In a certain gutsy ninja anime, it was one of the superior methods for controlling chakra. Right beside, the method of tree and water walking. The principle was simple. Balance a leaf with energy; don't let it fall. Hold it for hours, and control became second nature. Simple, brutal, effective. He snatched another leaf and pressed it alongside the first.

Both quivered, threatening to slide free with every breath. Sweat beaded at his temple, but he didn't blink. And leaves weren't his only tools. Ning had experimented with other methods. Pebbles balanced on his fingertips, each supported by a thin stream of qi. The challenge was to keep them steady without tremor. A cup of water held in both palms until the surface stayed glassy still. At first, ripples ruined it within seconds. Now he could hold calm for minutes.

Walking with a bowl of water balanced on his head, qi cushioning every step. Another classic for every Chinese martial arts movie. Martial artists used it for posture; here, it trained his energy with balance. So far, his record was five steps before disaster. Each exercise was dull, messy, and not remotely glorious. But Ning could feel the change. His qi, once clumsy and scattered, was sharpening, threads finer, smoother, more responsive. And the best thing about these methods?

They were cheap, requiring minimal resources. As Ning continued training, he heard movement. It was the fishing rod. There was a bite. With swift movements, he reeled it in. With his current physique, it was not hard to do so. After reeling, Ning quickly identified it as a carp. He tried to probe for the spiritual qi within the fish, but there were only a few traces of spiritual energy, not enough to qualify it as a spiritual fish. At best, it could be called a half-step spiritual fish.

"Eh, it's better than nothing." Ning quickly swept away the disappointment. With the help of the formation, most fish in the river were imbued with spiritual energy, but true spiritual fish are rare. In a gacha, they would be super rare pulls.

"You have already caught one, Ning?" An old man appeared with his own set of fishing equipment; who else could it be besides old Zhou? It was his daily ritual to start the day by fishing. The sect didn't provide any meat for peripheral disciples. It was said that after reaching outer sect disciple status, one can obtain a pound of spiritual beast meat every week. For Ning, who was used to being a foodie, this lack of protein naturally saddened him greatly.

Fortunately, emulating the old man, he could catch some fish, getting atleast some form of protein. Ning nodded as a greeting and spoke with a hint of disappointment, "Yes, an ordinary yellow carp." Old Zhou glanced over, already seated on his usual rock with his fishing rod propped against his knee. He chuckled knowingly.

"Not a spiritual fish, eh? You've been spoiled ever since that one time." If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Ning just smiled. He remembered it clearly: the faint glow along its scales, the density of qi radiating from its flesh. Rare and valuable enough that he hadn't dared keep it.

Instead, he'd traded it to Old Zhou in exchange for a pouch of powdered pesticide, something that could be the difference between life and death if crops failed or wild pests grew rampant. It had seemed the wiser choice. Practical. Of course, the pouch still sat unused. Old Zhou shifted, the rod in his hand dipping slightly as the line twitched in the water. He steadied it, then grinned.

"You'll catch another one someday. But until then… stop looking so mournful. At least, your cooking skills are good enough to make a good dish." Ning gave a soft snort of amusement.

"You should've been a spiritual cook," Old Zhou continued with mock gravity.

"Your heirloom recipes are quite unique; it would be a shame not to follow that path." Ning just snorted. Just two months ago, he was the 'holy farming body'; now the old man wants him to be a spiritual cook. Still thinking of something, he spoke, "I'll bring some of the dishes over later then, if you're willing to part with that spiritual wine of yours." At this, Old Zhou's eyes gleamed, and he laughed loudly, beard shaking.

"Ah, so you admit it! You've been eyeing my wine all along. Always pretending not to care, hm? Do you know how many times I've caught you sneaking glances at my gourd during dinner?" Ning just kept smiling, shaking his head slightly, neither confirming nor denying. At first, he hadn't touched the spiritual wine during their first dinner together. But who could've guessed that Old Zhou was such a skilled brewer? His wine wasn't just delicious; it even aided cultivation. A few peaceful minutes passed.

The river gurgled softly; the sky brightened. As Ning was packing up, Old Zhou spoke again, his tone suddenly… peculiar.

"By the way, Ning, you should take care of yourself." Ning blinked.

"Uh… what?" His body tensed instinctively. Was something wrong? Some hidden danger?

"I've noticed your lights burning late into the night," Old Zhou continued, stroking his beard with a knowing grin.

"And sometimes I hear… movement. You're still young. Don't overstrain yourself." Ning frowned, utterly lost.

"I was just practicing."

"Right, right 'practicing,'" Old Zhou said, nodding with exaggerated solemnity.

"Just don't overdo your… training sessions." Realization dawned. Ning's eyes widened.

"Y-You dirty old man!" Old Zhou erupted in laughter, nearly toppling off his rock as his booming cackle echoed down the riverside.... Returning to his farm, Ning calmly put down the equipment, his earlier temper nowhere to be seen. He had already figured out the old man's temper. Old Zhou was getting old, but due to the vigor brought by cultivation, his desires were not exactly diminished, to say. With cultivation yielding no result, his desires naturally turned towards a more 'mortal' side.

With such worldly desires, naturally, thoughts turned accordingly.

"Alas! Old Zhou really looked like a wisened elder back then." Ning couldn't help but wonder if he had fallen into the old man being pervy cliché. For the past two months, he had maintained a strict routine, every hour, every breath accounted for. His sleep schedule was cut down to the bare minimum, just enough to keep him from collapsing. At his current level, he couldn't cultivate continuously; doing so would only waste energy and risk qi deviation.

So, he had to carefully plan every session, when to cultivate, when to rest, when to recover his mind, and even when to eat. It was tedious, but Ning just liked watching numbers go brr. Speaking of numbers, Ning muttered, "Panel."

[Name: Ji Ning Spiritual Root: Mid-grade Spiritual Root Attributes: Five Elemental Attributes Talent: Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity Realm: 1st Stage of Qi Condensation (42/100) Cultivation Method: Pure Qi Sutra (1st Floor: 21/100) Martial Arts: Bone Forging Fist (Minor Accomplishment: 12/200), Shadow Steps (Minor Accomplishment: 3/200) Spells: Small Cloud Rain Technique (Starting: 99/100)] His progress had improved considerably over the past two months.

Most notably, his cultivation and spellcasting had advanced at a remarkable pace. His martial arts had also reached Minor Accomplishment, though compared to everything else, they had grown much more slowly. As his understanding deepened, Ning also began to grasp the fundamental difference between martial arts and spells. Martial arts were, in a sense, the tools of the early stages. They required no lengthy chants or intricate hand seals.

Once mastered, all they demanded was instinct, muscle memory, and spiritual qi. They were fast, reliable, and difficult to interrupt, making them exceptionally practical in close combat. Spells were different. At the beginning, they were painfully slow. Every cast required precise hand seals, carefully controlled qi circulation, and often an incantation to stabilize the technique. Against an experienced martial artist, a novice spellcaster would likely be struck down before finishing the first few movements.

Take the Small Cloud Rain Technique, for example. When Ning had first learned it, every cast felt clumsy. The cloud took an eternity to form, his concentration couldn't waver for even a moment, and after all that effort, it barely covered a patch of land three meters across. Now, however, things were different. The technique had reached the very brink of Minor Accomplishment. Old Zhou had spent years cultivating the spell before finally reaching Great Accomplishment.

Ning, on the other hand, had nearly reached Minor Accomplishment in only two months. He could think of several reasons for that. The first was affinity. His natural compatibility with the water element allowed him to progress with half the effort. Old Zhou, by comparison, possessed a strong earth affinity. Although he could still cultivate water techniques, they would never come as naturally to him. The second was comprehension.

Ning wasn't some heaven-defying genius who understood everything at a glance, but he was good at recognizing patterns and underlying principles. Once he understood how a technique worked, improving it became much easier. Third was control. Months of constant practice had refined his manipulation of spiritual qi to an astonishing degree. Very little energy escaped his control anymore. Every strand of qi was guided exactly where he intended, with almost no waste. The final reason... Ning had shamelessly min-maxed.

A single glance at his panel proved it. While Bone Forging Fist and Shadow Steps had improved steadily, nearly every spare moment of the past two months had been devoted to repeatedly casting the Small Cloud Rain Technique. Thousands upon thousands of repetitions naturally caused its proficiency to soar.

"So..." Ning rolled up his sleeves.

"One more." He refused to leave until that last one percent disappeared. Seeing a progress bar frozen at ninety-nine percent was a special kind of torture. Patiently, he formed the familiar hand seals and guided his qi through its practiced route. A cloud condensed overhead. Spiritual rain fell steadily across the fields. Again. And again. Hours passed. Every stretch of land received careful nourishment as Ning repeated the spell with almost mechanical consistency.

Then, somewhere around the middle of another cast, something clicked. His hand seals flowed together more naturally. The circulation of qi became smoother. Even his concentration seemed to rise to another level. The panel flickered. [Small Cloud Rain Technique: Starting → Minor Accomplishment (1/200)] Ning's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He adjusted the flow of qi almost instinctively. The cloud above him expanded rapidly, growing from a few meters to well over thirty before stabilizing.

Watching the gentle rain fall over the entire field, Ning finally smiled. He could move on to the next step of his plan.... Thanks for reading~