The next day, the group headed towards a part of the sect Tian Hao hadn't visited before – the etiquette training hall. The "classroom," a small, sparsely furnished training room, seemed to echo Lin Mei’s no-nonsense approach to etiquette.

"Seriously?" Tian Hao thought, glancing around the austere room. "This is where I'm supposed to learn the art of… bowing? Couldn't we have done this in my chambers? At least there, I'd have access to refreshments—and more comfortable seating." His casual demeanor felt at odds with the formal setting, his gaze flitting around the room as though searching for an escape route—or perhaps a hidden stash of wine.

Lin Mei, her posture straight and her expression serious, began the lesson. "The first bow we’ll practice is the formal sect greeting,” she announced, demonstrating the precise movements with an effortless grace. “Observe carefully, Tian Hao. Posture is crucial. Back straight, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped together.”

Tian Hao attempted to follow her instructions, but his movements were stiff, awkward, his body protesting the unfamiliar constraints. He stumbled slightly, nearly losing his balance before righting himself with a muttered curse.

He glanced at Lin Mei, admiring her grace but also feeling a twinge of rebellion. "Why all this fuss over bowing?" he thought. "Shouldn't our actions speak louder than these empty rituals?"

Lin Mei sighed, her patience already wearing thin despite her earlier fond amusement at his behavior. “Tian Hao, focus! This is not a joke. Your behavior reflects upon the entire sect. The way you present yourself is an extension of our sect's collective worthiness and power. Any mistake you make also stains my reputation."

He attempted to follow her instructions, but his movements were stiff and awkward, his body protesting the unfamiliar constraints. He stumbled slightly, nearly losing his balance before righting himself with a muttered curse. "Maybe a little Wine-Fueled Fury would help with my coordination," he mused, though he knew that was probably a terrible idea.

Tian Hao straightened, taking a deep breath as he tried to mimic her movements, his gaze fixed on her as if he could somehow absorb her grace through sheer willpower, as if he could learn this dance of respect by sheer desire rather than practice.

“Alright, alright, I’m trying,” he said, though his voice still carried a hint of playful exasperation. He suddenly decided to test her patience again. Exaggerating the movement, he bent so low that his head nearly touched the floor, his arms flailing wildly in an over-the-top display of mock deference.

Lin Mei’s lips twitched, her annoyance warring with amusement. “Tian Hao,” she said, trying to maintain her composure, “that’s… a bit much.”

Tian Hao smiled, straightening up. “Just trying to make a good impression,” he replied.

Fatty Wu, watching from the sidelines, let out a loud guffaw. “Perhaps the young master is onto something,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “A new style of sect greeting – the ‘Humble Lotus Flop.’”

Lin Mei shot him a warning glare, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, her exasperation tinged with genuine affection—or perhaps pity?—for Tian Hao's clearly terrible yet oddly endearing performance.

Jiuwei, perched on a nearby table, mimicked Tian Hao’s exaggerated bow, her tiny form bending low to the ground, her tail waving in the air. Her exaggerated movements, however, looked more like a playful stretch than a formal greeting.

The lessons continued, Tian Hao’s attempts at etiquette ranging from the comically inept to the surprisingly graceful, his mind flitting between the boredom of the exercises and flashes of memory from his journey—the spirit beasts, Jiuwei’s pronouncements, Lin Mei’s quiet support.

“No, no, Tian Hao,” Lin Mei would say, correcting his posture. “Your back is supposed to be straight. You look like you’re about to bow to a spirit earthworm!”

Jiuwei, perched on a nearby table, a platter of spirit beast delicacies before her would chime in with her own brand of unhelpful commentary. “Indeed, he does look rather… pathetic,” she’d remark, her tiny voice laced with sarcasm, "Perhaps we can train him to present his belly like the mortals present dogs to their so-called masters? A simple sign of respect, a clear way for them to show subservience?"

Tian Hao, his face reddening, would glare at Jiuwei. “You’re not helping,” he’d mutter under his breath, his earlier good humor fading with the pointed criticism.

Lin Mei’s eye twitched, her earlier amusement replaced by a growing exasperation. “Enough!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together sharply. “This isn’t a joke, Tian Hao. The Celestial Conclave is a gathering of powerful individuals, influential figures from across the cultivation world. We can't afford to make fools of ourselves.” She paused, "You must act with dignity and respect, and not like some…” She struggled to find the appropriate insult. “…wine-addled, formation-disrupting, spirit beast-collecting, hidden-realm-stumbling fool.”

Her words hit their mark, the sharp tone, the insults, though delivered with exasperation rather than malice, stinging more than any physical blow.

With renewed focus, he repeated the bowing sequence, his movements more precise, his posture straighter, his gaze steady.

Then there was one perfect moment—he executed a complex series of bows flawlessly, finishing with a flourish and a wink at Lin Mei. She, clearly impressed, bowed back. “Perhaps… there’s hope for you yet, Young Master.”

"See, Jiuwei? Not so pathetic after all," he thought, a surge of pride coursing through him. The thought of Zhao Fei witnessing this small victory spurred him on. He could almost picture her surprised expression, the flicker of admiration in her eyes.

Jiuwei, her ears twitching with annoyance—though perhaps just as much with boredom—rolled over, burying her nose deeper into the soft furs she'd claimed from Tian Hao. “Just get on with it already,” she muttered, her small voice laced with exasperation, just before a tiny, almost imperceptible snore escaped her lips.

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Lin Mei paused mid-sentence, her mouth opening to deliver a stern correction to Tian Hao, but another soft snore from Jiuwei cut her off. She closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Tian Hao couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

“Focus, Tian Hao,” Lin Mei snapped, glaring at him, her frustration obvious.

Tian Hao raised his hands defensively, still smiling. “Hey, it's not my fault she’s making this a bedtime story,” he teased, gesturing at Jiuwei who let out another tiny snore, perfectly timed.

Lin Mei’s eyes narrowed further, her composure cracking. “If you don't focus, you’re going to end up making a fool out of us at the Celestial Conclave.” She straightened, preparing to continue, but Jiuwei let out yet another small, delicate snore.

Lin Mei’s lips tightened as she stared at the tiny fox, then at Tian Hao, who was barely containing his laughter.

“That's it! Enough for today!” she finally exclaimed, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Even the most patient of instructors needs a break.”

Tian Hao chuckled, giving her a mock bow, far more relaxed this time. “I promise to practice, Teacher Lin,” he said, his tone light.

Lin Mei sighed, but her tired smile betrayed her affection. “You’d better. Or next time, I might just have Jiuwei teach you instead.”

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As evening approached, the training session mercifully concluded. Tian Hao, his muscles still protesting the unfamiliar exertion, made his way to his favorite meditation spot—the secluded garden tucked away behind the main hall. It was a stark contrast to the austere formality of the etiquette hall, a place where he could finally let his guard down, escape the judging eyes, and just be himself, even if that self was still a work in progress.

He settled himself beneath the sprawling willow tree, its familiar branches offering a comforting embrace.

As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, drawing the cool evening air into his lungs, the lingering scent of jasmine and earth calmed his restless mind. It was still, a stark contrast to the usually bustling sect grounds. The quiet solitude was a welcome balm after the day's frustrations—the awkward bowing practice, Jiuwei's sarcastic commentary, and Lin Mei’s exasperated sighs.

He could almost feel the tension melting away, his shoulders relaxing as he sank into the familiar comfort of his hidden sanctuary.

He opened his eyes, reaching for his flask. His fingers traced the familiar curves of the cool jade, its smooth surface a welcome contrast to the rough textures of his recent journey – the splintered wood of the outpost, the jagged rocks of the mountain paths, the tough rations he'd had to stomach. Each touch, each memory, a reminder of how far he’d come, both physically and spiritually.

Tian Hao took a slow sip of his wine. The liquid burned warmly as it went down, spreading a pleasant tingling sensation through him, sharpening his senses, and calming his mind. He took another sip, savoring the warmth, letting the pleasure wash over him, a small act of defiance against the austerity he'd been forced to endure.

He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, his mind settling into a quiet rhythm, his thoughts drifting.

"There are countless paths to power," he mused, "a thousand ways to climb towards the heavens—not just the ones the elders deem acceptable or worthy."

He thought about Liang Chen, the sect’s prodigy, whose effortless mastery of traditional cultivation seemed almost… boring.

“Why struggle so hard when there’s a far more enjoyable way?”

He took another sip of the wine, the pleasure amplifying his focus, his energy coursing through his meridians, each sip taking him deeper into the meditative trance. This was his path, his way - cultivation through indulgence, through the simple act of savoring life’s pleasures.

He was a cultivator, not just through austere discipline, but through the joys of this world, through the very taste of wine, the touch of a friend, the shared laughter, every meal and taste and experience he’d had—and would have. Each moment a step forward on his unconventional path. Each pleasure a spark igniting his spiritual energy, each breath another rung in the path towards greater power.

It felt right, finally something that was part of him, not the forced mimicry of his performance at the outpost well, and not simply bowing his head to earn respect. It felt good. Authentic.

He felt a warmth spread through his core, his dantian swirling with a gentle hum of energy that echoed the taste of the wine. It pulsed within him, a steady rhythm that resonated with the quiet peace of the garden.

His senses expanded, sharpening, as though he was suddenly more attuned to the world around him. He tasted the ancient minerals of the earth in every breath, the subtle sweetness of the jasmine blossoms, the faint tang of the willow bark. He could feel the energy coursing through his own fingers, pulsing with a newfound strength.

He knew, with a certainty that went beyond mere arrogance, that there was more to cultivation than simply existing as an appendage to power, more than struggling to catch up, more than striving to be something he was not.

"I’ll never be like Elder Hua or Yu Xian—not their way," he vocalized. "But I will find my own strength, taste every part of this world, endure every challenge," he paused, letting the image of the grotesque warped rabbit fill his mind, then dissolving it with the rich taste of his wine, "until I become more than just the lazy, foolish young master they all expect me to be."

The energy flowed like the wine, through him, swirling and merging, becoming a part of his very being. He could almost taste the stars, feel their distant light shimmering within his own body. It was as though the heavens themselves were acknowledging his progress, whispering secrets of power and potential in a language he was finally beginning to understand.

The breakthrough was subtle, a gentle surge of power that rippled through him, as though another layer had been unlocked, a door opening within him, revealing a path he’d never known existed. It wasn't an explosive rush; instead, it was a quiet, steady flow—like a river finding its course, carving its path through the earth, each twist and turn shaping its destiny.

It carried not the exhaustion he had been bracing for, but a sense of invigorating peace, an understanding of how much he had yet to learn, of how far he could go.

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Name:

Tian Hao

Cultivation Method:

Pleasure-Induced Nirvana Ascension (PINA) – High-Mortal Tier

Cultivation Level:

Body Refining Stage 6

Techniques:

Restful Lotus Bloom - High-Mortal Tier

Wine-Fueled Fury - Peak-Mortal Tier

Minor Shapeshifting Seed- Low-Earth Tier

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“Well, well, Little Hao,” Big Sister System’s voice echoed in his mind, tinged with mock surprise and obvious amusement. “Body Refining Stage 6. It seems all that lounging, drinking, and eating has finally paid off.” She paused, then added, with a hint of genuine pride seeping through her usual sarcasm, “Perhaps I underestimated your ability to turn indulgence into strength. Even if by sheer accident”

Tian Hao smiled, the warmth of the wine and the pleasure from BSS’s backhanded compliments a potent mix that invigorated his senses. "Just proving the efficacy of my methods, Big Sister," he replied inwardly, feeling a surge of confidence. "Besides, isn’t enlightenment all about finding one's own path? Why endure unnecessary suffering when there’s a far more enjoyable way to ascend? Especially when I have you as my guide." He added a touch of playful flattery. “Your methods are clearly working,” he paused, relishing her sudden silence.

Big Sister System, clearly pleased by his compliment, merely chuckled in response. “Just try not to let it go to your head, little Hao. There are far greater pleasures, far greater challenges, awaiting you. And far greater karmic debts to be paid.”