Hiss—
Su Mo braced his hands on his knees, his head spinning as the world around him seemed to tilt and darken. A faint murmur of voices reached his ears, and when he looked up, he saw a middle-aged woman he didn’t recognize standing nearby.
Her lips moved, but he couldn’t make out a single word she was saying.
This is awful… I feel completely drained!
He had never experienced such weakness before—it was as if his body had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but an empty shell.
Slowly, the symptoms began to ease.
The woman helped him sit down, and with great effort, he focused inward to assess his condition.
What he saw shocked him.
The swirling energy inside him had withered, and the core of his cultivation—his Qi Dan—was nothing more than a transparent, hollow husk.
Damn… I’ve really overdone it this time.
His heart sank like a stone.
But then, the presence of the Green Dan gave him a glimmer of hope. If it’s also a Dan, surely it can’t just be for show, right?
He tried “awakening” it again—and this time, it actually worked.
Perhaps it was because he had absorbed so much energy from the ghost leader earlier, but the Green Dan was still releasing wisps of Qi, slowly nourishing his depleted Qi Dan and helping it show faint signs of recovery. Su Mo finally let out a sigh of relief.
Not only that, but the usually lifeless Green Dan was unusually active today. Sensing his weakened state, it even split off a tiny flame to nourish his body, accelerating his recovery.
A bold thought suddenly struck Su Mo: Does the Yin Flame only react when my body is pushed to its absolute limit?
Looking back at his past experiences with the Yin Flame, it had always appeared in moments of extreme emotion, life-or-death situations, or—like today—when he was completely exhausted.
The realization made his heart leap.
If that’s the case, then if I train to the point of exhaustion every time, wouldn’t the Yin Flame constantly nourish and strengthen my body?
The corners of Su Mo’s lips curled into a grin—so sudden that it startled the kind-hearted woman beside him. Realizing this was beyond her help, she quickly called for the archive’s administrator.
“What now?”
“He’s… smiling!”
“Let him smile. Maybe he’s had some kind of epiphany. You’d smile too if you were in his place,” the administrator said with an eye roll before walking off.
The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, deciding to mind her own business.
By the time Su Mo fully regained his senses, over an hour had passed.
He stretched his limbs, considering whether to try again—but then his gaze fell on the massive hole in the wall, and he froze.
Did I do that?
Moving closer to inspect the damage, he noticed the edges were jagged, with cracks radiating outward—clear signs of blunt force.
The woman from earlier was gone, leaving only the administrator to answer his questions.
At the front desk:
“Don’t worry about it. For superhumans, occasionally breaking walls or wrecking rooms isn’t that big a deal,” the administrator said, surprisingly understanding. Su Mo felt a surge of gratitude.
But just as he was silently apologizing in his heart, the administrator slid a bill across the counter.
“Just make sure to pay for the repairs. Labor and materials aren’t free, you know.”
Su Mo’s expression stiffened. He took the bill, glanced at the amount, and nearly lost it.
Eighty thousand?!
That’s straight-up robbery!
“How about… forty?” he bargained through gritted teeth.
The administrator didn’t even blink. “Deal.”
(ﾟ∀ﾟﾉ)ﾉ
Wait, what?
“Twenty?” Su Mo tried again.
“Under Beidou law, destruction of public property—especially historical artifacts—”
“Fine, fine! I’ll pay!” Su Mo groaned, swiping his card.
Beep.
Forty thousand gone, just like that.
The administrator smiled in satisfaction, then walked toward the damaged training room.
Su Mo followed, expecting him to inspect the hole—but the old man merely glanced at it, waved his hand, and the scattered bricks flew back into place as if pulled by invisible strings. The cracks in the wall sealed themselves shut.
Su Mo: “???”
But it didn’t end there. The administrator pressed his palm against the wall, and a golden glow spread across its surface, reinforcing the repaired section until it was as sturdy as before.
Wait… is he some kind of construction-based superhuman?
A master of infrastructure?
Suddenly, the forty thousand didn’t seem like such a waste. At least he’d gotten a free show out of it.
“Mountain-Sea Fist is an excellent technique, but its restrictions are severe. Even experts at the Snow Mountain Realm can’t guarantee they’ll succeed every time. That’s why it was downgraded to three stars and placed in the Human Tier for study,” the administrator remarked casually.
“But if even Snow Mountain Realm cultivators struggle with it, why put it in the Human Tier? Most people here are only at the Qi Sea Realm or lower,” Su Mo pointed out, puzzled.
“How else would we find the truly exceptional?” The administrator gave him a sidelong glance. “As the only three-star technique in the Human Tier, nearly every newcomer picks it first. If someone does master it, then it’s fate.”
Su Mo still didn’t buy it. “But most people aren’t exceptional.”
“Exactly. I know what you’re thinking.” The administrator sat down at the front desk and took a sip of tea. “If they fail, that’s on them. Before choosing, shouldn’t they ask themselves why there’s only one three-star technique in the Human Tier? Maybe it’s a trap?”
“Uh…” Su Mo had no rebuttal.
“Still, you’re quite the surprise. You actually managed to learn it.”
“So… I’ve mastered it?” Su Mo perked up.
“The basics, yes. The rest requires going to the second and third floors.”
“Oh.” His excitement dimmed for a second before he asked, “How do I get access to those floors?”
“Make contributions. If your merits are great enough, you could live here and no one would stop you.”
Fair enough.
Over the next two weeks, Su Mo spent over *800,000* to fully master the foundational level of Mountain-Sea Fist.
Thankfully, the administrator cut him a deal: if he could successfully execute the technique three times in a single day, he’d only have to pay half.
And so, he trained relentlessly, drenched in sweat…
……
By the time he left the archives, his body was exhausted—but his strength had grown significantly since his arrival.
The most surprising improvement was in his Qi Dan. Compared to half a month ago, it had expanded by a full circle and now looked far more solid.
The Green Dan, however, had suffered. After being exploited for so long, it had dimmed considerably and now outright ignored him.
Instead of heading back immediately, Su Mo wandered around, taking in the historical grandeur of Beidou.
Eventually, he found himself at the Heaven’s Pivot Courtyard.
It was a secluded estate, its gates shut tight, yet the exterior was impeccably clean—as if someone lived there.
No need to guess: this had to be the residence of the Heaven’s Pivot Elder—the highest-ranking of Beidou’s seven executive elders, and the organization’s de facto leader.
Not daring to linger, he quickly turned to leave—only to run straight into Elder Nanxuan Xuan, the Heaven’s Mystery Elder.
“Greetings, Elder Nanxuan,” Su Mo said respectfully.
Nanxuan Xuan studied him, then nodded in approval. “As expected of the young miss of the Ye Corporation. To have such a solid foundation at your age is impressive.”
Su Mo wasn’t surprised that he knew “Ye Qingyi’s” identity.
Come on, he’s the Heaven’s Mystery Elder. Of course he knows.
“You flatter me, Elder. I’ve just had the advantage of starting cultivation earlier than most, thanks to my family.”
Nanxuan Xuan seemed pleased by his humility. “No need to be modest. Yang He has already told me of your actions during the recent terrorist attack. Beidou always rewards merit—don’t forget to claim your reward from him.”
Su Mo had nearly forgotten about the credit he’d earned. Apparently, it wasn’t insignificant.
“Thank you, Elder.”
Nanxuan Xuan nodded with a faint smile before walking away—a far cry from the ruthless, cold-hearted figure who had slain the tentacle monster.