Chapter 206

Chapter 206: The Gap

Zhi Academy wasn’t just the highest-ranked of the four refining grounds—it was the strongest, by far.

Suo Xing Jian was naturally the weakest.

Wang Jie had walked through Zhi Academy before. He’d felt the weight of it—the scale, the pressure, the resources. He had a sense of how strong the four refining grounds truly were.

And compared to Black-White Heaven, the difference wasn’t a matter of a “gap” anymore. It was an entirely different world.

He hadn’t expected First Nebula to stand that far above the other three nebulae as well.

Little Lan sighed, as if remembering something distant and heavy. “That’s why, when just one Third Miss from Milky Way Defense Corporation arrived, our elders personally welcomed her—and not just any elders. It was the most senior elder in the council.”

“Not only that,” she continued. “Two Star-Refining Realm cultivators appeared. That alone tells you how seriously they took it.”

Wang Jie said evenly, “Even so, Junior doesn’t regret refusing to go to First Nebula. The bigger the gap, the worse it is for Junior.”

Little Lan studied him, then nodded with approval. “You’re smart.”

“A Lockforce cultivator has no standing even in Fourth Nebula,” she said. “Go to First Nebula and your status only sinks lower.”

“There are endless Lockforce cultivators there. They call them… consumables.”

Wang Jie’s expression didn’t change.

Consumables.

It was blunt, but not wrong.

Anywhere he went, it would be the same.

Little Lan looked out into the starfield. “The Skeleton Clan is an unspeakable existence in First Nebula. They represent terror, death, despair.”

“Imagine something like that appearing in Fourth Nebula,” she said softly. “You understand now why the sect sealed itself.”

She exhaled. “You came back alive. You were truly lucky.”

The ship crossed above Zhi Academy and, before long, reached Great Chen Mountain.

“Remember what I told you,” Little Lan said as they approached. “Every place has its rules.”

“Great Chen Mountain is no exception.”

She gestured ahead. “Go ask around. I’m leaving.”

Wang Jie clasped his hands. “Thank you, Senior.”

The ship was left behind. Star-Devourer was still in Suo Xing Jian.

Wang Jie opened his terminal and contacted Luo Yan using the contact information Little Lan had provided.

Far away—on the other end of Great Chen Mountain’s Fifth Star Chain—lightning flashed in violent arcs.

Luo Yan sat beside the Thunder Well, ripped off his glasses, and collapsed backward, drenched in sweat.

“I can’t,” he groaned. “I can’t look anymore. I’m dizzy. I want to vomit.”

A group sat nearby—people who’d fled from Shuang Hua Sect with him back then.

“How far are you?”

“Only One Gaze, Five Hundred,” Luo Yan said miserably. “I’m still nowhere near what Chen Art demands.”

“No wonder so many people quit.”

One of them frowned. “The way they explained it, anyone could learn Chen Art. How could anyone fail? Turns out the problem is here.”

“And that’s not even the worst part,” someone else said. “I heard that once you reach One Gaze, Two Thousand, the glasses stop helping. The last one thousand you have to cultivate on your own.”

“That’s the real killer,” another added grimly. “A lot of stubborn people get stuck there for years and can’t improve. If you can’t improve, you have to leave. You can’t waste time on a single Chen Art forever.”

“Black-White Heaven’s estimate is brutal,” someone muttered. “If you can’t reach One Gaze, Two Thousand within two years of entering Great Chen Mountain, you should give up. Otherwise you’ll waste time and still fail to learn Stacked Sky Light.”

“How long have we been here?” someone asked.

“Six years,” Luo Yan answered, deadpan.

He trudged back toward the rented houses that ringed the Thunder Well.

Around the Well were rows of small dwellings, all rented. Without renting, you couldn’t stay. Living here had two advantages: it blocked some of the blinding lightning outside, and it allowed communication with people inside the Fifth Star Chain. Out in the open, the lightning interference made contact impossible.

Luo Yan’s group had pooled their money to rent a single room.

They rotated rest.

Inside, Luo Yan saw a notification on his terminal.

Master Wang.

His eyes lit up. He nearly fumbled the device as he accepted the call.

Inside Wang Jie’s ship, a chime sounded.

Wang Jie answered.

“Master—is it you, Master?” Luo Yan blurted. “It’s Luo Yan!”

Wang Jie smiled at the familiar voice. “It’s me.”

“Master, why are you at Great Chen Mountain?”

“I was transferred here,” Wang Jie said. “How are you holding up?”

“We’re okay,” Luo Yan said quickly. “We were targeted for a while, but as long as we don’t cause trouble, it’s fine.”

Wang Jie thought of Mu Ran and the others, and the trouble they’d faced. Compared to them, Luo Yan’s group had been lucky.

Great Chen Mountain wasn’t Zhi Academy. Most people here were consumed by one thing—cultivating Chen Art. They had less time to meddle in anything else.

And Luo Yan wasn’t alone. A ring of starforce cultivators surrounded him. Picking on them wasn’t easy.

The cultivators at Great Chen Mountain, overall, weren’t especially strong either. It was still only a refining grounds.

“Luo Yan,” Wang Jie said, amused, “did you make five people cry?”

Luo Yan froze. “Master… how do you know that?”

Wang Jie did know. If Luo Yan hadn’t moved them, Wang Jie’s progress in the Heaven-Reversal Path would have taken longer.

“I’m grateful,” Wang Jie said simply.

Luo Yan sounded embarrassed and proud at the same time. “You always told me to tell the story to others. I got bored, so I did.”

“And… yeah. People really got moved. Some cried.”

He leaned closer to the screen, voice eager. “Master, they want the rest of the story. Is there more?”

Wang Jie coughed a laugh. “We’ll talk.”

They chatted a little longer, then Wang Jie altered his ship’s route and headed for the Thunder Well.

He wanted to see whether the glasses, combined with lightning, could improve his control over lockforce.

Du Xian had mentioned that the entrance to Thunder Abyss was somewhere in Great Chen Mountain.

Black-White Heaven had methods to help disciples refine their control over starforce—hence the existence of Heavenlight Pavilion.

Wang Jie had been sent here to cultivate Stacked Sky Light so that Zhi Xing Xue could stake her influence in Heavenlight Pavilion.

After crossing a space-time minor vortex, two more days passed.

A flickering point of light pulsed in the darkness ahead.

Thunder Well.

The closer the ship drew, the larger it became, until it filled the view like a wound in the starfield.

The ship docked at the designated berth outside the Well.

“Master!”

Luo Yan rushed forward the moment he saw Wang Jie, saluting so fast he nearly tripped.

The rest of the refugees from Shuang Hua Sect followed behind him—fewer than before.

Wang Jie exchanged a few words with them, then went toward the Thunder Well.

He quickly realized Luo Yan’s group knew little about the outside situation. That made sense. In Suo Xing Jian, the only way to get news from outside was through that shop—otherwise information rarely got in.

This place likely had something similar.

And Luo Yan wouldn’t go out of his way to dig up news about himself.

A Lockforce cultivator like him shouldn’t cause a stir in Black-White Heaven anyway.

Wang Jie took the glasses Luo Yan offered. “So this is it?”

Luo Yan nodded eagerly. “Yes. Once you put them on, you can capture lightning trajectories by the Thunder Well. If you can capture three thousand trajectories in one second, you can go cultivate Chen Art at Great Chen Mountain.”

He hurried to clarify, gesturing toward the vast starfield. “And Great Chen Mountain doesn’t mean the Fifth Star Chain. It’s an actual mountain—slanted, floating in space. You can only climb it if you’re qualified, and you have to climb from the bottom…”

Wang Jie looked around.

The area was crowded—cultivators everywhere, all wearing glasses, staring unblinking at the lightning. Occasionally someone lost focus and tumbled.

Around the Well were the same kind of rented houses he’d seen at the Ninth Star Chain.

Different places. Same pattern.

Wang Jie sat at the edge of the Well and faced the lightning.

The lightning made him think of that dreamlike woman again.

He still didn’t know who she was, or where she was.

Maybe one day, if he stood high enough, she would see him.

He pushed the thought down and focused.

Numbers snapped into place quickly.

“One second,” Wang Jie said, “three thousand one hundred twenty-one.”

Luo Yan’s eyes widened. “Master… how many?”

When Wang Jie repeated it, Luo Yan went rigid.

The people behind him froze too.

For a full breath, no one spoke.

Then Luo Yan spun around, practically glowing. “See? I told you Master is incredible. He can cultivate Chen Art immediately. Who still doubts it?”

“Who?” he demanded, chin lifted. “Who doesn’t believe it?”

Someone swallowed hard and asked, “Master… you can really see more than three thousand?”

Wang Jie nodded.

“Then go take the qualification test,” another said. The tone carried a challenge—an attempt to see whether Wang Jie was bluffing.

Luo Yan snapped, “What are you implying? Doubting Master?”

He pointed accusingly. “If Master says he can see it, he can see it. Don’t you dare doubt him.”

Wang Jie laughed. “Where do we test?”

“Over there,” Luo Yan said, immediately soft again. “I’ll lead you.”

Along the way, a few people recognized Luo Yan’s group and shouted teasingly.

“Going to test again? Who made it this time?”

“Luo Yan, is it you?”

Laughter followed them.

Luo Yan ignored it, then muttered to Wang Jie, “They’re all dogs who look down on people. When we first came, they caused trouble for us. We didn’t respond, so they eventually stopped.”

Then, almost timidly, he asked, “Master… how have you been in Suo Xing Jian?”

Wang Jie glanced toward the jeering crowd. “Luo Yan—do you have anything for self-defense?”

Luo Yan’s grin turned awkward. “Uh… no. If Master needs something, we can pool money to buy it.”

Wang Jie shook his head and handed him a storage ring. “Take this.”

Luo Yan blinked. “Master, this is…?”

“In the outside world, you can’t have nothing to protect yourself,” Wang Jie said. “But don’t tell anyone. Be careful.”

Luo Yan tucked it away obediently.

Inside, Wang Jie had packed more than Luo Yan could imagine: ten million starstone, Revival Pills, Recovery Pills, Swiftstep Pills, an Eightfold Strong Lock Formation scroll, and—most valuable of all—a Thousand-Color Stone.

It could assist cultivation of One Gaze, Three Thousand.

Its value rivaled a four-tribulation Chen artifact.

Wang Jie could have given more, but too much treasure invited disaster. This was enough.

More could wait for their next meeting.

Luo Yan, oblivious to the true worth, remained completely absorbed in pride.

The test was simple. The cultivator in charge released lightning, and Wang Jie counted.

He answered instantly.

Qualification granted.

Luo Yan looked like his soul had nearly left his body from excitement. The people who’d doubted scrambled to flatter him, and he basked in it shamelessly.

Wang Jie took his leave.

Luo Yan offered to escort him to Great Chen Mountain, but Wang Jie refused. There was no need.

Better for them to stay here and keep cultivating.

As for the Thunder Well, it could help Wang Jie cultivate Thunder Pattern—but Stacked Sky Light came first.

That was what Zhi Xing Xue cared about most.

Everything else could wait.