Meanwhile, while Ji Wuye and his Senior Sisters rested under the vast midnight sky adorned with a brilliant full moon, an extraordinary scene unfolded within the female Outer Disciple Dormitory.

In one of the dormitory rooms, the windows stood wide open, allowing the silver moonbeams to spill across the floor in a luminous pool. An relentless gale howled outside, its powerful gusts rattling the window panes and sending tremors through the black slate tiles and bamboo roofs in a haunting chorus akin to wolves' anguished cries.

The surrounding bamboo grove bent and writhed violently, the slender stalks whipping wildly as the surging winds tore through them. Yet inside this tempest-tossed room, the owner of the flung-open windows sat enshrouded in a faint, pulsating aura of bluish Qi.

A young woman, with long, maple-colored tresses billowing and lashing about her slender frame as if alive, was seated in a deep meditation pose.

In stark contrast to her wildly floating hair, her white martial robe with aqua stripes clung tightly to her body, drenched in perspiration from her exertions. Cross-legged on the floor, her tense, unmoving posture betrayed the profound effort behind her meditations.

Her youthful, heart-shaped face possessed an almost childlike innocence, yet the delicate features were heavily furrowed in intense concentration.

Within her body, the twelve meridians pulsed with circulating Qi in a frantic rhythm, forcibly expelling impurities from her pores in beads of fresh sweat.

"Ha...ha...ha..." With each controlled inhalation, soft shallow breaths escaped her slightly parted lips in faint rhythmic moans, mingled with whispers of white vapor that dissipated into the cool, unmoving air.

Her slender figure remained rigid and unmoving, coiled with profound stillness.

Eyes tightly shut, her entire consciousness turned inward, she guided the pure, shimmering rivulets of bluish Qi to flow in precise, harmonious cycles along her meridians.

The vital energy traveled like water along the pathways of the Governing and Conception vessels before pooling into the roiling reservoir of her Lower Dantian - a bubbling wellspring nestled just beneath her navel.

As the cycle of Qi peaked and began its return to the Lower Dantian, a subtle yet profound transformation began to stir within Song Jia.

The gathered energies roiled as if waking from a deep slumber, spinning faster with each rotation in an escalating vortex driven by insatiable hunger.

The concentrated Qi within her Lower Dantian pulsed outward, resonating with and greedily drinking in the ambient Qi of the world around her.

Gossamer threads of shimmering bluish energy streamed through her pores, woven together like a spider meticulously crafting its web. An imperceptible, faintly rippling cyclone took shape around her rigid body.

Downward the maelstrom spiraled, a raging cerulean torrent whirling into the blazing core of her Lower Dantian like raging waters being inexorably drawn into the maw of a massive whirlpool.

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The energies compressed further with each passing breath, becoming denser, more viscous and pure, until at last they burst free of their restraints.

SWOOSH!

A dazzling, coruscating bolt of bluish Qi erupted from the seething depths, surging like lightning unleashed along the Conception Vessel's path.

The radiant torrent ascended, settling into the cavity of her wildly thumping heart. There it continued its relentless dance, folding, compressing, refining itself with unyielding intensity.

And then, in that pivotal moment of roiling transformation, something remarkable and permanent emerged. Stability. A newfound center. The genesis of the Middle Dantian!

Her breakthrough from the 2nd to the 3rd realm was achieved in that instant, as the rapacious Qi eagerly flooded her meridians, flowing into the newly crystallized Middle Dantian reservoir.

The previously taut and tense atmosphere steadily unwound, her breathing finally easing into a steady, even rhythm through parted lips.

Song Jia's eyes fluttered open, revealing irises that shone with deep, luminous power. A beatific, foolish smile slowly spread across her lips as she recognized the thrilling, unfamiliar sensation of her Middle Dantian's emergence.

Placing one palm over the center of her chest, she whispered in awe, "The 3rd realm...I can feel it, like the eye of a raging storm brewing inside me...hehehe."

"Master, I did it! I finally did it!" Song Jia's voice cracked with overwhelming emotion as the excited shout burst from her lips. "You always believed I could, even when I doubted myself!"

However, her bright, luminous eyes quickly dimmed as she glanced around the empty room, the thrill of her achievement dampened by a sobering realization.

Her roommates had all met their demise in the cruel trials of the Tower, leaving her the sole survivor amongst their circle.

A melancholic pall fell over her expression, the beaming smile fading from her delicate features.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she buried her face atop them, shoulders slumping as a profound sense of solitude washed over her.

"I miss you so much, Master," she murmured, her words barely a fragile whisper carried on the night breeze. "This place feels so empty without you all. When can I finally come back home?"

Her plaintive question trailed off as she turned her gaze outwards through the open window at the vast, star-studded sky cradling the brilliant full moon.

Just then, as if her Master had provided an unspoken answer, a gentle zephyr swept into the room, whispering coolly across her face with an oddly comforting caress.

Song Jia tilted her head almost imperceptibly, savoring the fleeting sensation with a slight nod.

Only then did her eyes fall upon the wooden jian resting in the corner by her bed.

"Right, I need to practice," she sighed, the stern timbre of her Master's voice echoing in her memory like a clarion call.

With a mixture of exasperated fondness and nostalgia, she mimicked his oft-repeated words, "Practice until your arms give out. Until the moves become as natural as breathing."

Her Master had insisted she keep training, refining her martial arts even when she saw no reason.

But as this recollection surfaced, Song Jia's eyes suddenly widened, her pupils dilating with a surge of realization. A new smile bloomed across her lips, one of genuine excitement tinged with pride.

"Right! Now that I've reached the 3rd realm, I can finally try the third move of the Pulse of Blade Sword Art!" Her voice rose with palpable enthusiasm.

"Master, you better prepare yourself - your stubborn disciple is going to make you proud, no matter how long it takes!"

Just like that, the melancholic gloom and hollow gaze from moments before vanished entirely, banished by her renewed sense of determination.

Gripping the wooden jian tightly, Song Jia rose and strode out of the dormitory with her enthusiasm reinvigorated.

Outside in the still courtyard, the sole outer disciple stood alone beneath the brilliant night sky, the full moon's luminance washing over her solitary form.

She extended the jian horizontally before her body, assuming a precise thrusting stance as Qi began flowing in a steady cycle between her newly formed Middle Dantian and lower Dantian.

For over one hundred and fifty controlled breaths, Song Jia maintained the grueling thrust position unmoving, her slender arms trembling subtly with the exertion of holding the wooden sword unwavering.

Her lips grew dry and cracked, her complexion paled, and her entire body shivered involuntarily against the biting cold.

"Ah!" She finally cried out as her strength gave way, collapsing onto the hard earth in a heap, legs shaking and wrists screaming from the prolonged extension.

"This...is just the first step of the training method Master outlined, but it's so utterly exhausting..." she muttered to herself between ragged breaths.

Staring up at the impassive moon, a crease furrowed her brow as her mind raced. "How can I possibly speed up mastering the Piercing Tempest Thrust?" The whispered question hung unbidden in the chill air.

Then, as if prompted by her own murmured words, the striking visage of a handsome man with flowing white hair and fathomless crimson eyes surfaced unbidden in her mind's eye. Song Jia's eyes narrowed in contemplation as she pondered this recollection.

'Should I...ask him for guidance? But what could I possibly offer as recompense?' The thought was immensely tempting despite her misgivings.

After all, the Rising Gale technique he had casually teach before had proven astonishingly effective. Yet, he was just too perfect—despite being an imitator!