Chapter 45
Chapter 45: Monkey Pass Breakthrough, Part Two
Back in the stone forest, Zhao Chun finally had experience to lean on. Even so, the Shadow Monkeys were vicious and slippery, and she had to stay on guard with every step.
What bothered her more was the change in the array itself. This time, the moment she entered, the stone spires no longer matched what she remembered. With the fog swallowing everything, she never knew what her next step would land on.
When she finally pushed through the Forest-Piercing Trial, the stele beneath the pines flashed her result:
Zhao Chun, mid Qi Refining Stage—one hour and forty-five minutes.
Fifteen minutes faster than last time, and she still looked battered. She frowned, dissatisfied.
Still, she’d discovered something valuable. The terrain was treacherous, the harassment constant—perfect as a grindstone for both swordwork and footwork. Before, she’d come here with a single goal: break through to the sixth level of the Qi Refining Stage. Now it felt like an unexpected gift. If she could ride this momentum, she might push the Swift-Stride Sword Method and the Serpent-Form Step to a higher realm.
If one attempt failed, she would go again.
She could afford it. And if the Swift-Stride Sword Method broke through, her strength would jump.
Running the stone forest devoured stamina at a brutal rate. At first, four attempts a day was her limit. Three days later, she forced herself up to five Forest-Piercing Trials in one day.
Half a month passed. Zhao Chun had signed her name in the Threefold Stone Forest seventy-three times. Her best time had dropped to an hour flat, but the shifting paths and the Shadow Monkeys’ interference were still her greatest obstacles.
Tu An was used to her by now. One morning, spotting her at the entrance, he waved his brush and shouted, “Five runs again?”
Zhao Chun tossed him a cloth pouch and answered with a low hum.
“In a few more days you’ll hit a hundred, and you still won’t rest. You’re a walking iron man.”
These past two weeks, when she was tired, she sat in the little pavilion to regulate her breathing. When she was hungry, she pulled dry rations from her storage bag. At night, she returned to her stone cave and cultivated as usual. Day after day, she never wavered. Tu An watched it all with his mouth hanging open.
“Cultivation isn’t something you can slack off in,” Zhao Chun said, eyes forward as she adjusted her sleeves and hem.
Cultivators as diligent as her certainly existed, but Tu An had seen far more halfhearted “immortals” who surrounded themselves with servants and spent their days indulging in comfort.
Some people drove themselves upward, chasing the heavens. Others were content with what they had and lived by the creed of seizing pleasure while it lasted.
Most cultivators started young with lofty ambition, grinding away every day and dreaming of Foundation Establishment, even Essence Condensation—dreaming of the day they could shatter mountains with a flick of the hand.
Then the years passed, the road narrowed, and they began to focus only on what was right in front of them.
The old man who guarded nights here—Tu An’s senior coworker—clicked his tongue when he heard Tu An complain that Zhao Chun was “a freak with nothing in her head but cultivation.” Stroking his beard, he said, “I only hope she walks farther than the others. Don’t let her stop halfway… walking, walking, and then simply stopping.”
Whatever they thought, Zhao Chun gained plenty. Two days ago, the Serpent-Form Step reached minor success, and her time leapt from an hour and a half down to one hour. Her movement grew lighter, her progress smoother. When she left the array now, she no longer looked as ragged as before.
And if she could bring the Swift-Stride Sword Method to major success… she might make it under thirty minutes.
Zhao Chun bit down on the thought. No matter how hard this hurdle was, she was going to break it.
She threw herself into training with a frightening focus. A full month later, while she was cutting down a Shadow Monkey, inspiration struck like lightning. Her blade arced in one seamless circle—smooth, rounded, perfectly unified—and the Swift-Stride Sword Method broke through to major success.
In Heng Yun World, perfecting an art was notoriously difficult. Completion meant grasping its true intent until technique and understanding fused into one.
Major success was the completion of a single art. For Zhao Chun, reaching major success in the Swift-Stride Sword Method meant that, purely in terms of technique, she had pushed it to its limit. If she wanted to advance further, she would need to comprehend true intent and merge intent with skill—only then could she touch perfection.
She understood how distant that was. Chasing what she couldn’t reach would only cripple her progress. For now, major success was more than enough.
Besides, among Qi Refining Stage disciples, entry-level and minor success were common. Major success in any one art was rare. It was proof that, on the path of the sword, she truly had talent.
And the effect was terrifying.
After the breakthrough, Zhao Chun’s crossing speed dropped to under fifteen minutes. Tu An’s expression changed three times before he could even blink.
Zhao Chun felt the difference too. She was sharper than before—like a blade’s edge: keen, stubborn, unyielding.
When she moved her sword, the Sword Light Realm traveled with her. Shadow Monkeys often vanished the instant they brushed it, sparing her effort she could no longer count.
Instructor Zheng had once taught her that swordwork and footwork reinforced each other: step and strike. The sword force must be straight, the sword wind must be sharp, the eyes must follow the blade, and the mind must be fully focused.
There was an old saying: train the sword by training the fist first—the fist is the root of all arts. Only when hand, eye, body, strength, and step were trained could you execute the five sword methods: strike, thrust, parry, sweep, and lift.
With the Swift-Stride Sword Method at major success and the Serpent-Form Step at minor success, Zhao Chun’s torso, arms, and legs moved as one. A shift of an inch could pull her whole body along. In a single breath, she could unleash several moves.
That breakthrough in martial technique finally let her sense the subtle pull between her upper and lower dantian. Sprinting through the stone forest at full speed, her mind grew clearer and clearer. The instant a Shadow Monkey lunged, she could counter upward and cut it down.
Another month passed in the same relentless grind.
Then, one day, her upper and lower dantian surged together. Her meridians linked. Her qi fed itself in a sudden, violent loop—and immense power detonated inside her. All fatigue evaporated. In seven and a half minutes, she tore out of the stone forest.
This time, her strength felt boundless. Her breathing was steady, not a trace of disarray on her. No wonder people called the sixth level of the Qi Refining Stage the Long-Breath Realm. The qi in her dantian had nearly doubled.
If she faced Tu Mian again now, she still wouldn’t win—but she could at least defend herself. She wouldn’t die to the first blow.
Back in the little pavilion, Tu An couldn’t read her cultivation directly, but the change in her presence was unmistakable. He grinned. “So you broke through?”
Zhao Chun nodded. “I’ve been here over two months. I got results.”
Tu An understood immediately. She was leaving. His smile faltered. “Congratulations.”
Menials like him often worked a post for life. And Threefold Stone Forest was quiet—so empty that having someone to talk to felt like a rare luxury.
Zhao Chun’s expression turned serious. “Guarding this place is easier than most assignments, and hardly anyone comes. If you focus on cultivating, you might make progress.”
Tu An was only eighteen or nineteen, baby-faced and restless. At the word cultivate, he pulled a pained look and waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Seeing he’d only swallowed half the lesson, Zhao Chun shook her head. Lian Jing worked day and night and still carved out time to train. Tu An had almost nothing to do and still refused to settle his mind. The comparison was enough to make anyone sigh.
Once she left the Threefold Stone Forest, the gray fog thinned and the world opened wide. A fierce exhilaration rose in Zhao Chun’s chest. In less than three months, she’d broken from the fifth level to the sixth. Both her techniques had advanced as well.
The Heavenly Dao rewarded diligence. That much was true.
If you wanted greatness, you needed patience—endurance others could not bear—before you could soar into the clouds.
Zhao Chun nodded to herself, summoned the Mist Skiff, and returned to her residence. After she rested, she would head to Lookout’s End Cliff and ask Xu Feng to pass a message to Meng Han.
Soon, they would set out for the old sect ruins.