The sun had barely risen when Tao entered the Herb Pavilion, already bracing himself for the day ahead. He was greeted by the usual chatter of disciples at work, their voices blending with the rustle of leaves and the soft hum of spiritual energy from the plants.

Wei was, unsurprisingly, the loudest.

“I’m telling you, breaking through to the second level of Qi Condensation is no big deal,” Wei said, his voice carrying across the garden. He stood with his arms crossed, grinning at Lian. “Some of us just have a natural talent for it.”

Tao stiffened at the words, his hands pausing over the Spirit Lotus Sapling he was transplanting.

“Natural talent?” Lian replied, her tone dry. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have taken three months longer than Jian to break through.”

Wei’s grin faltered. “That’s because I was focusing on perfecting my technique! Rushing a breakthrough is dangerous, you know.”

Jian, who was pruning a row of Moonberry plants nearby, glanced up briefly. “I broke through last year. You’ve had plenty of time, Wei.”

Tao’s chest tightened. Both Wei and Jian were a full level ahead of him. He kept his head down, focusing on the soil in front of him, but the reminder of his stagnation burned in his mind.

By midday, Tao had finished his tasks in the herb garden and made his way to the Combat Hall. The hall was a sprawling courtyard, bordered by wooden training dummies, sparring rings, and weapon racks. Disciples of varying ranks filled the space, their movements precise as they practiced forms, exchanged blows, or meditated in preparation for matches.

The atmosphere buzzed with energy, the clash of swords and bursts of spiritual techniques echoing through the courtyard. Tao hesitated at the edge, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

He rarely came here. Combat arts weren’t his strength. Still, avoiding the hall completely would only draw more attention. Combat training was mandatory for inner disciples, no matter their skill level.

Keeping his head down, Tao moved to a quiet corner where he hoped to practice his basic sword forms unnoticed. He had barely begun when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Still hiding in the shadows, Tao?”

The words sent a chill down his spine. Yun Fei strode toward him, his smirk as sharp as the blade at his side.

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At the fourth level of Qi Condensation, Yun Fei was among the strongest inner disciples. His confident gait and the polished sword at his hip marked him as someone who dominated the sparring rings—and relished the attention that came with it.

Tao forced himself to stand straight. “I’m not hiding.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Yun Fei said, stopping a few paces away. His voice was loud enough to draw the attention of nearby disciples, some of whom paused their practice to watch. “I don’t see you sparring with anyone. What’s the matter? Afraid of losing?”

Tao’s grip tightened on his sword. “I’m here to practice, not to fight.”

Yun Fei laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “Practice? With your skills, you’d need more than practice—you’d need a miracle.” He unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming as it caught the sunlight. “Why don’t we spar? It’ll be good experience for you. You might even learn something.”

Several disciples gathered around, their murmurs filling the air. Some looked curious, others amused. Tao caught a glimpse of Wei and Jian standing among them. Wei’s grin was broad, while Jian’s expression remained unreadable.

Tao hesitated. Sparring with Yun Fei was a guaranteed loss, but refusing in front of so many witnesses would be worse.

“Fine,” he said, drawing his sword.

The crowd parted as the two stepped into a sparring ring. Yun Fei moved with the ease of someone who had done this countless times, his sword steady in his hand. Tao, in contrast, felt the weight of his blade more acutely than ever.

The match began with a flash of steel. Yun Fei’s strikes were precise and relentless, forcing Tao to retreat with every step. The gap in their cultivation levels was painfully obvious—Yun Fei’s movements were faster, his attacks sharper, his control of spiritual energy effortless.

Tao barely managed to block a series of strikes before a sweeping blow sent his sword flying from his hands. The blade clattered to the ground, landing a few feet away.

“Pathetic,” Yun Fei said, sheathing his sword. His voice carried across the courtyard, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. “You’ll never get anywhere if you can’t even defend yourself.”

Tao retrieved his sword in silence, the sting of humiliation cutting deeper than any blade. Around him, some disciples whispered, while others turned back to their practice. Yun Fei didn’t spare him another glance as he moved to challenge another disciple, his smirk still firmly in place.

Wei approached, clapping Tao on the shoulder. “Well, that was... something. Maybe stick to the gardens, huh?”

Jian stood nearby, his gaze steady. “Yun Fei’s strong, but brute strength isn’t everything. Keep training.”

Tao nodded mutely, grateful for Jian’s words even as frustration bubbled beneath his skin.

Back in his quarters that evening, Tao replayed the match in his mind. Every strike, every mistake, every moment of weakness gnawed at him. Yun Fei was stronger—far stronger—but Tao couldn’t accept being humiliated like that forever.

The jade mountain pulsed faintly in his dantian, a reminder of the power he had yet to unlock. If only he could understand it, harness it...

He sat cross legged on his cot, closing his eyes to meditate. But his mind kept straying back to the courtyard, the crowd, and the jade mountain’s silent presence.