After all, the spirit adviser had told Zeng Fei that his trash talent wouldn’t matter because the body-reforging ritual would transform his body into the sole Immortal Physique capable of cultivating the Heavenly Demon Divine Art (which was likely a unique Immortal Physique given that the Emperor had custom-made it for his technique).

The issue was that Zeng Fei did not feel any different in his reforged body to his pre-ritual one…

Could it be, then, that the artificial Immortal Physique was solely designed to support the domain inside his body and had no other effects?

If so, there would be little point in him stubbornly cultivating like the original had done; to accomplish his goal of gaining as much personal power in a limited time, he would be better served committing to another path such as body refining.

Since his assigned spirit adviser - the one entity that could have explained the effects of the Immortal Physique - was hiding from him, the next best way to find out about the effectiveness of cultivation was to try it out himself.

So, bearing with the aches in his body, Zeng Fei assumed a meditative pose on his bed and began his chanting cultivation. He intended to go as long as he could, then measure his gains and compare it against the original’s progression over a similar period. He didn’t expect it to be long.

This was because of the two main drawbacks of cultivation: boredom and pain.

The first one was self-explanatory, and the second one was because cycling qi through your meridians caused strain and expanded them a little each time, nothing serious unless you repeated the motion countless times without rest, in which case they’d eventually start hurting. If you continued past that, your meridians were increasingly likely to rupture, causing agony until they healed back up.

The original had gritted through the pain and continued, having his meridians burst and heal back many times over the four years, eventually perfecting the intuitive art of stopping right at the border, resting for a bit, then doing it all over again.

Since the original had viewed cultivation as a taxing and tedious activity, Zeng Fei, having skimmed through these memories, readied himself for much of the same.

Consequently, he was not prepared for how… enjoyable it was?

This was not to say that the process wasn’t strenuous or difficult; indeed, the act of getting his paltry qi to efficiently circulate his body was beyond convoluted, let alone the challenge of condensing it at the end.

But the circulation felt like he was street racing in a car with clunky controls, and the condensation, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it reminded him of, provided instant feedback on how well he’d performed it.

The whole process reminded him of the feedback loop in roguelikes or MOBAs: start from zero each time, every little action you do on the way having a lasting impact that couldn’t be erased away by loading up a save file, and finally reach the endgame, the moment of truth where you’d discover if you’d done enough to come out on top.

The novelty, constant feedback, and sense of improvement from each cycle kept his dopamine receptors firing like there was no tomorrow; unlike the original who’d persisted on willpower, Zeng Fei actively applied himself to the exercise, fuelled by stimulation.

In the end, he only stopped cultivating two hours later when the pain grew too exacting for him to bear it anymore.

Yet, any surprise he felt over how long he’d lasted paled next to his astonishment at the progress made: within two hours, he’d made it to 30% of the way up the first layer, equal to two months of cultivation by the original!

While the chant did draw in more spiritual energy than the original’s breathing exercise, this by itself was nowhere near to explaining the mindboggling progress he’d made.

Was this what cultivation felt like for people with Heavenly Spiritual Roots? Did that mean the ritual had transformed the attributes of his spiritual roots without him knowing? But how come he could still absorb spiritual energy of the five elements then?

These thoughts revolved in Zeng Fei’s mind as he lay back down, fully exerted and sweating profusely from how much he’d been shaking enduring the pain of cultivation.

Over a course of minutes, his body cooled down, and although the pain was still considerable, his exhaustion was greater still so he drifted off to sleep before long.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

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Meanwhile, shortly after Zeng Fei had stopped cultivating, Pingu awoke to the sensation of something cool landing on his down feathers.

He opened his eyes to see the sky filled with dots falling down. He raised his wing and peered at it under the moonlight: his coat was peppered with whatever this thing was.

The penguin vigorously shook himself and cleared his coat. He made one step, then stopped from the faint crunch noise. Raising his foot, he saw he had left a print in the… what?

Somehow, this thought activated a circuit deep in Pingu’s subconscious, the answer suddenly becoming known to the conscious part like it’d known all along, merely forgotten until now. This was snow!

The domain was always chilly, but this was the first time it had ever snowed inside.

The realisation that it was snowing elicited emotions inside Pingu akin to what a kid feels when waking up to unexpected snowfall outside the window and hearing that their school had already called in a snow day.

What followed was Pingu running around the domain flapping his wings, honking and brrring, rolling around in the snow and making snow angels. The time it took to belly-slide from the edge of the lake to the other end of the domain did feel a bit longer, but Pingu chalked this up to the snowy terrain slowing him down.

Only once the penguin had tired himself out on play did he return to his usual spot and prepare to sleep again.

Which he would have proceeded to do if not for the oddly familiar, yet unknown, sensation pulling at his consciousness.

Curious as to what it was, Pingu followed through on the urge, instincts driving him to remain still and shift his breathing and mentality. He had no idea what he was doing, except that it felt good and… correct?

For some reason, this action felt so natural it was hard to believe he’d not been doing this every day of his lifetime.

Must be the influence of snow, he thought.

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Zeng Fei was pulled awake by the burning in his cheeks. It was bright outside and there was a young lady standing next to his bed, the same one causing the pain.

He was about to yell out when he noticed her sect robes was light green; aside from the Outer Sect Disciples who wore orange robes, none of the other positions in the sect had set uniform codes to follow.

They could wear whatever as long as their clothes bore the Treading Infinity Sect’s insignia: two footprints at a diagonal angle, concentric swirls rippling out as though someone had just been treading over water.

Still, almost everyone observed the tradition of wearing robes that revealed their area of expertise, shown by colour, and rank, shown by intensity of colour. Under this system, a faint green signified an Inner Sect Disciple proficient in alchemy or healing.

Simply the fact it was an Inner Sect disciple caused Zeng Fei to hold his tongue.

He spread out his divine sense to note that her cultivation was unascertainable by him as expected, which, given the sense of strength and solidness she emanated, meant Foundation Establishment at least or higher.

Naturally, she had noticed he’d awoken. “Good morning, Junior Brother. This may sting a bit, so please bear it.”

The bowl in her hand had a potent herbal stench, and the areas where she’d already reapplied the paste felt as though they’d been covered with hot wax drippings.

With no real choice but to endure it, Zeng Fei bit down and steeled his mind, knowing he was in for a long ride from her unhurried, somewhat lethargic movement.

Half an eternity later, she was done.

Although he was spiritless and hoarse-voiced by this point, he forced his torso up and performed a fist-and-palm salute.

“This humble junior is Zeng Fei. May I know Senior Sister’s name?”

She gave a wan smile. “Dai Xinyue.”

Dai Xinyue was thin and had long black hair tied up in a bun. She looked to be just out of her teens, but also had prominent bags under her eyes that reminded Zeng Fei of healthcare workers from back home who’d been doing back-to-back shifts for years.

Although Zeng Fei felt guilty for adding to her workload, he couldn’t miss this opportunity to gather information.

“Senior Sister Dai, could you please let me know about the state of my body?”

“The rest of your injuries were minor, so they’ve healed up. Only your cheeks were in a worse state, but that face mask I reapplied should be the last of their treatment - the paste heals the skin and enhances flesh recovery, so they should be back to normal by tomorrow.”

Zeng Fei regained some of his lost spirit on hearing this: it meant he would be able to make it to the Crooked Mountain and start grinding the beasts there today.

…Though, this was contingent on his ability to go undetected by Dong Fu, whose threat to finish off the job hung ever-present in the air.

Especially if such an encounter took place outside the sect, it would effectively be a death sentence: even if Dong Fu didn’t directly kill him, what difference would it make if Zeng Fei was left so injured he was incapable of defending against the next monster he encountered?

As difficult as it was to swallow, the truth was that no matter how well Zeng Fei played his cards, he still wouldn’t be able to beat Dong Fu as he was now.

In the first place, Dong Fu hadn’t used any qi or techniques in their last fight, only his physical prowess; if that brute was to go all-out, he had the ability to beat up ninth layer Qi Refining disciples.

Had Zeng Fei made a dangerous enemy? Yes…

Had Dong Fu made an even more dangerous enemy? Naturally.