The green spores shimmered faintly in the chamber, swirling through the air like glowing dust.

They danced around Wei Ji's body, and wherever they landed, the torn skin and bruised muscle beneath his robes began to knit together slowly.

The pain that had spread through his veins was easing, like a tide pulling back from the shore.

Lu Shaohua watched in silence, her eyes wide with both awe and concern, her hands still holding the bandages she had been wrapping moments ago.

Wei Ji took a slow breath, feeling his lungs stretch without the sting that had been there just moments earlier.

He flexed his fingers, watching the faint green light pulse under his skin before fading away. "It's working," he murmured, more to himself than to her. Then, realizing she was still staring, he turned to her and smiled lightly. "Do you want to know how I did it?"

Lu Shaohua blinked, then nodded softly. "Yes, young master Han Ji. How did you do that?"

Wei Ji exhaled and looked at his hands, as if the answer were written in the faint trails of light that still lingered there. "It wasn't easy," he began, his voice calm but heavy. "When I tried to copy your technique, I realized something strange. Normally, when I see something once, I can reproduce it perfectly. Every detail, every strand of Qi movement, every spiritual pulse. But with yours…" He paused, his eyes flicking toward her. "It's like trying to hold water with open fingers. It keeps slipping away."

Lu Shaohua tilted her head slightly. "Is that because my method is flawed?"

Wei Ji chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No. Quite the opposite. It's because your method isn't made for someone like me." He raised his hand, and the green spores gathered briefly around his palm before dispersing again. "Your body is… special. The way it channels Qi, the way it breathes with nature. It's something I cannot imitate. I realized that after failing over and over again."

She lowered her gaze. "Then how did you manage to use that healing spell?"

Wei Ji's eyes gleamed faintly with pride. "I made my own version," he said, his tone almost playful. "I changed it so that even a mortal body like mine could handle it. I removed the parts that relied on your body's unique energy channels, and instead, I used the surrounding life essence to fill in the missing parts. I used the room itself as an extension of my veins." He spread his hands, and the green spores drifted toward him as if drawn by invisible strings. "See? It's not as graceful as yours, but it's stable. It's stronger in its own way."

Lu Shaohua's eyes softened. "You modified it… just like that?"

Wei Ji nodded. "I had to. My pride wouldn't let me rest otherwise." He smiled faintly, then added, "But I won't lie. Even now, it's nowhere near as refined as yours. What you did… you turned an ordinary cultivation technique into something alive."

There was a brief silence between them. The green glow of the spores reflected in Lu Shaohua's eyes, making them look almost like pools of jade. Wei Ji found himself staring for a moment too long. He didn't notice that his body was leaning forward slightly until his hand brushed against her wrist.

Her breath caught.

Wei Ji froze. The warmth of her skin against his sent a strange jolt through his body, something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. He glanced down at their joined hands and then back up at her face. She was looking at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

His thoughts raced. Why am I holding her? Why am I touching the future Celestial Demon Empress?

He immediately pulled his hand back, stepping away as if waking from a trance. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice low but sincere. "I didn't mean to. I just… got excited. It's been so long since I felt this kind of thrill. A discovery like this—it reminds me of what it means to be alive."

Lu Shaohua blinked, her cheeks tinged faintly pink. "It's alright, young master Han Ji," she said softly, though her fingers still trembled slightly.

Wei Ji smiled faintly, then turned away, trying to steady his breath. For the first time in what felt like millions of years, he felt something unfamiliar stirring within him. Not power. Not pride. But something gentler. Something dangerous.

Before he could dwell on it, something shifted in his chest. His eyes widened, his head turning slightly as if hearing a distant sound. "Wait," he whispered.

Lu Shaohua straightened. "What's wrong?"

Wei Ji didn't answer. His senses stretched outward, piercing through layers of spiritual barriers and into the distance. His pupils flickered with faint green light as his mind reached far beyond the chamber. Then, his expression darkened.

…

Far away, in the grand hall of the Han Family, a heavy silence filled the air.

The incense smoke coiled in lazy spirals toward the high ceiling as several elders stood in neat rows, their expressions solemn.

At the center of the room, Han Cui, the family head, sat on the elevated seat, his hand resting on the armrest. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked toward the gathered guests—representatives of the Sword Shandian Sect.

Han Zhanjian, who had just awakened from Wei Ji's spell earlier that day, stood stiffly among the younger members, his expression clouded with confusion.

He had vague fragments of memory—images of glowing plants, blinding light, and a figure that looked eerily like Han Ji—but the moment he tried to focus, the memories scattered like sand in the wind.

The hall doors creaked open, and the Sword Shandian Sect's envoys stepped forward.

Their robes were pristine, marked with lightning-like patterns, their presence heavy with authority.

One of them, a sharp-eyed man with a thin beard, stepped ahead of the others and clasped his hands behind his back.

"We have come with an announcement," he said, his voice echoing through the hall.

Han Cui narrowed his eyes. "An announcement?"

"Yes." The man smiled faintly, his tone polite but firm. "Originally, we came here to check the so called High level talent, but we… surprisingly have encountered an… unusual situation. One of your members, Han Zukong, a newly appointed disciple of our sect a little while ago, displayed unexpected strength during a recent secret mission. It was reported that he fought against a demonic cultivator and held his ground—even managed to kill five on his own without the help of his sect brother."

A quiet murmur spread among the Han Family members.

Han Zukong, who stood among the younger generation, looked startled. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.

The Sword Shandian envoy continued. "Such talent should not go unnoticed. And yet, according to the records, his talent rating during the last test was… abnormally low. Too low." He let his gaze sweep across the hall before stopping on Han Cui. "So, we've decided to test again."

Han Cui frowned. "Test again? You suspect our records are false?"

"Not false," the envoy said smoothly. "Just incomplete. There are times when hidden potential reveals itself under pressure. We wish to confirm that."

The words carried both challenge and curiosity.

Han Zhanjian's fists tightened at his sides. He glanced at Han Zukong, whose expression was a mix of confusion and growing dread.

The envoy turned slightly, raising his hand as if calling attention. "Prepare the crystal sphere," he said to his assistants. "We shall see for ourselves if the Han Family truly harbors another rising star."

The assistants moved quickly, bringing forward a transparent sphere that shimmered faintly with spiritual light. The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy, anticipation crackling like the calm before a storm.

Han Cui looked toward his nephew, his expression unreadable. "Zukong," he said finally. "Step forward."

Han Zukong swallowed hard. His palms were sweating, and his heart pounded against his ribs. He could feel everyone's eyes on him—the elders, the disciples, the Sword Shandian envoys.

The envoy gestured toward the sphere. "Go on," he said with a faint smile. "Let's see what kind of talent you truly possess."

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