The dawn was barely breaking when Lu Qinghe opened his eyes.
Or rather, he hadn’t really slept at all.
For five straight days, he had slept less than four hours a night.
The “Vortex” Breathing Method his son taught him—he cycled it as fast as humanly possible, so fast his chest felt tight, so fast his soul power coursed through his meridians like it was going to burst through his skin.
Yet that barrier hadn’t budged a bit.
He lightly climbed down from the bed, walked to the corner of the yard beneath the old locust tree, and sat cross-legged.
Closing his eyes, he began to breathe.
Following the rhythm, his soul power accelerated along that path in his body he knew all too well.
The tepid trickle turned into a raging river, then finally into a roaring surge, pounding again and again against that invisible barrier deep within his dantian.
*Thump.
Thump.* With every impact, his body shuddered.
Sweat streamed down his wrinkles, dripping onto his collar.
Still not working.
The barrier was like tough hide, incredibly resilient.
Hit it, it would cave in a little, then snap right back.
His soul power was draining rapidly, and that burning, gnawing emptiness in his belly flared up once more.
Gritting his teeth, he didn’t stop.
Last night, his son had brought him another bowl of thick porridge, saying it was made from millet traded for the last of the Energy Soup.
He knew the rice jar at home was nearly empty.
He couldn’t stop.
That bastard Zhao Shi was probably lurking somewhere watching.
If no one held down the fort at home, that scoundrel would dare come back.
Soul power slammed against the barrier once more.
This time, something felt slightly different.
The barrier didn’t bounce back.
Instead, it emitted a tiny, almost imperceptible crack.
Extremely light, so light it felt like a hallucination.
Lu Qinghe’s heart gave a violent thump.
Not daring to lose focus, he drove his soul power with everything he had, gathering all his strength toward where the sound came from, and slammed into it again— *Crack, crack, crack…* The sound grew distinct.
Not a hallucination.
The barrier that had trapped him for fifteen years—cast as if from pig iron—was now webbed with spiderweb-like cracks over its surface.
Lu Qinghe trembled all over.
Almost instinctively, he threw every last trace of remaining soul power in his body—along with all the exhaustion, resentment, and pent-up frustration accumulated over these five days—and shoved it forward.
*Break for me—* *Break!* *BOOM—!* There was no physical sound, but that roar undeniably exploded in his mind.
The barrier shattered completely, dissolving into specks of light.
Immediately after, a surge of fresh, tempestuous soul power flooded out from deep within his dantian, rushing through every limb and bone in an instant.
His body shook violently.
On the surface of his skin, a faint, milky-white light seeped out.
In the gathering dawn, it was barely visible, but it undeniably existed.
At the same time, the ground beneath him vibrated slightly.
A hazy, almost transparent white halo slowly emerged from under his feet, rising to his waist, where it quietly floated.
White.
A ten-year soul ring.
Pitifully low quality.
But to Lu Qinghe, this ring of white weighed more than a thousand pounds.
He opened his eyes, staring at that faint ring around his waist for a long, long time.
Then he raised his right hand.
With a thought, his rusty Iron Hoe martial soul quietly materialized.
Unlike before, the dull rust on the hoe’s surface looked as though it had been washed, revealing a bit of the metal’s original grayish-black sheen.
Though still crude, it carried a touch more weight and solidity.
He made it.
Rank 20.
Grand Soul Master.
Even if he was at the absolute bottom, the rock-bottom of Soul Grandmasters, he was still a Grand Soul Master.
Between that and a Rank 19 Spirit Master lay a world of difference.
Lu Qinghe opened his mouth to shout, but his throat felt plugged with cotton.
His eyes were hot and swollen.
He hurriedly raised his hand and wiped his face hard with the back of his rough hand.
Can’t cry.
How old am I?
Embarrassing.
Yet when he put his hand down, a small patch of his sleeve was wet.
*** Lu Yuan was startled awake by a faint yet distinct ripple of soul power.
He immediately sat up and walked to the window.
In the morning light, his father sat under the old locust tree, back turned to the house, shoulders trembling slightly.
Around his waist, a white halo—so faint it almost dissolved into the air—was slowly spinning.
It worked.
A few days earlier than he had estimated.
He watched quietly for a moment, not going out right away.
Father needed a moment to process this milestone alone.
Fifteen years was too long.
He retreated to the edge of the bed, sat down, and began thinking rapidly.
A white ten-year soul ring was expected.
This was a naturally condensed “origin soul ring”—no soul skill, but capable of strengthening the martial soul’s foundation.
It would be good for his father’s daily work.
But its significance wasn’t in combat power.
It lay in “possibility.” A commoner Spirit Master trapped at a bottleneck for fifteen years had broken through.
In Maple Leaf Town, this news would be nothing short of an earthquake.
Keep it a secret?
Lu Yuan shook his head gently.
Though the ripple from the soul ring’s condensation was faint, as long as the town’s other two registered Spirit Master—Zhao Shi and the old man guarding the warehouse at the east end—weren’t dead asleep, they had likely noticed.
It couldn’t be hidden.
Soft footsteps came from outside the door.
Lu Yuan looked up to see his father push the door open and step inside.
Lu Qinghe still had wet tracks on his face he hadn’t thoroughly wiped away, and his eyes were somewhat red, but his back was straight as a pole.
That weary posture, stooped for so many years, seemed somewhat lightened by whatever had just occurred.
“Dad.” Lu Qinghe stood at the doorway.
His lips quivered, and only after a long pause did he wring out two words: “…I made it.” His voice was raspy, yet firm as iron.
Lu Yuan nodded.
“I saw.
A white soul ring, naturally condensed?” “Yeah.” Lu Qinghe walked over to the bed and sat down, opening his right hand.
The Iron Hoe martial soul emerged, the white halo slowly swirling around the hoe’s handle.
“Doesn’t feel like it has much punch, just feels…
like the hoe is a bit heavier, easier to handle.” He tried giving it a swing, stirring a faint breeze in the air.
Indeed, his movement was sturdier.
“Most origin soul rings are like that—they reinforce the martial soul’s foundational form,” Lu Yuan explained.
“Although there’s no soul skill, it’s good for your work.
Hoeing the fields will take less effort.” Lu Qinghe gave a low “Mm,” staring down at his martial soul with a complex look in his eyes.
Only after a long while did he look up: “What do we do next?” A direct question.
Lu Yuan held up two fingers: “Two things.
First, to the outside world, say that after bottling it up for fifteen years, you messed around on your own, had a sudden flash of insight, and somehow broke through without knowing why.
If anyone asks for details, say you know nothing and attribute it purely to luck.” Lu Qinghe frowned: “Will they believe that?” “Whether they believe it or not is up to them,” Lu Yuan said calmly.
“Without a cultivation technique, without resources, how else can an old Spirit Master stuck for fifteen years suddenly break through except by ‘luck’ or an ‘epiphany’?
Even if they suspect something, they won’t find any proof.” It sounded a bit rogue, but it was effective.
“What’s the second thing?” “Second,” Lu Yuan paused, “don’t go out today.
Stay home and get used to your new soul power.
As for Mom, I’ll talk to her.” “Why?” “A buffer.” Lu Yuan looked out the window.
The sky had brightened further, and the sound of opening doors drifted over from the distance.
“It takes time for news to spread.
If Zhao Shi really sensed it, he’ll need to confirm first, ponder it over, and only then act.
We’ll buy half a day or a full day to put everything at home in order.” His gaze swept over the few old books in the corner of the wall, and then to the Blue Silver Grass on the windowsill.
Especially the Blue Silver Grass.
The attention brought by Father’s breakthrough would inevitably shift, in part, to his “useless martial soul” son.
Lu Qinghe understood.
He fell silent for a moment, then gave a heavy nod: “Alright.” One word, crisp and decisive.
*** Lin Xiu learned the news just as the porridge finished cooking.
Carrying bowls out of the kitchen, she saw her husband sitting at the table and her son standing aside, both looking serious.
Her heart skipped a beat: “What is it?
Did something happen?” “Mom, Dad broke through,” Lu Yuan said directly.
Lin Xiu’s hand shook, sloshing some porridge over the rim.
“Br…
broke through?” Her eyes widened as she stared at Lu Qinghe.
“Really?” Lu Qinghe didn’t say a word, merely shifting his thoughts.
The Iron Hoe martial soul materialized, and the faint white ring around his waist lit up.
The bowl in Lin Xiu’s hand clattered onto the table.
She paid it no mind, standing frozen, her eyes glued to that circle of white light.
Then she suddenly covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Large tears fell silently.
Lu Qinghe panicked and stood up to say something, but Lu Yuan gave him a gentle tug.
Let her cry.
She needed to.
After a long while, Lin Xiu lowered her hands and wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve, her voice still choked with tears: “Good…
good…
as long as you broke through, it’s good…” Flustered, she bent down to clean up the spilled porridge.
“Eat, let’s eat first…” “Mom,” Lu Yuan stopped her.
“Dad isn’t going out today, and you should try to stay inside too.
If anyone comes asking, just say Dad isn’t feeling well and is resting at home.” Lin Xiu froze, looking up with tears still hanging on her face, but her eyes quickly cleared: “Is someone looking for trouble?” “Just taking precautions.” Lin Xiu understood.
Saying no more, she nodded, deftly tidied the table, and served fresh porridge.
Before they could finish eating, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate.
More than one person.
Lu Yuan set his bowl down and exchanged a look with his father.
Here they came, faster than expected.
A knock sounded on the gate—not heavy, but carried a deliberately calculated tone.
“Is Old Brother Lu home?” a somewhat familiar middle-aged male voice called out with a laugh.
“Heard your family had good news!
As your neighbors, we came specifically to congratulate you!” Lu Qinghe took a deep breath and stood up.
Lu Yuan lowered his voice: “Remember.
Luck, epiphany, don’t know.” “Mm.” Lu Qinghe straightened his collar, walked over, and pulled open the gate.
Three people stood outside.
Leading them was a plump carpenter who lived two streets over, someone they rarely interacted with.
Behind him were two other nearby residents, smiles plastered on their faces, though their eyes kept darting toward the yard.
“Oh, Old Brother Lu really is home!” the carpenter boomed.
“Wang Mazi passed by this morning and said he saw a white light in your yard that looked like a soul ring!
We didn’t believe it, so we rushed over to take a look—did you really break through?” Lu Qinghe stood at the doorway without stepping aside, merely nodding: “Yeah, hit a stroke of luck.” “A stroke of luck?
How’s that just luck?
That’s a massive joyful occasion!” The carpenter slapped his thigh.
“Stuck for fifteen years, wasn’t it?
My, my…
an old tree blooming anew!
Tell us, how’d you break through?
Any secret trick?” As soon as he asked, the eyes of the two behind him lit up.
Lu Qinghe shook his head: “No trick.
I was just practicing this morning when I suddenly felt a breakthrough, and the soul power just pushed through on its own.
I can’t really explain it either.” “An epiphany?” the carpenter asked, half-doubting.
“Maybe,” Lu Qinghe said flatly.
“Just good luck.” The three looked at each other, momentarily unsure how to respond.
After a few more pleasantries—nothing more than polite talk like “take good care of us in the future”—the three left, feeling disappointed.
Lu Qinghe closed the gate, walked back inside, and knit his brows: “This is just the beginning.” Lu Yuan stayed quiet.
He knew these three were merely the first flies to smell the scent.
The real trouble hadn’t shown its face yet.
Sure enough, in less than an hour, two more groups arrived.
Some came purely out of curiosity, while others beat around the bush asking if he’d “found some treasure.” Lu Qinghe brushed them all off with “luck, epiphany, don’t know.” Within half a day, the news blew through half of Maple Leaf Town like the wind.
“Did you hear?
Lu Qinghe from the Lu family broke through!” “Real or fake?
Hasn’t he been stuck for over ten years?” “Absolutely true!
A white soul ring!” “White…
well, that’s nothing special.” “No matter how low, he’s still a Grand Soul Master!
How many do we even have in town?” “How do you think he broke through?
Could it be…” “Who knows.
Either way, things are probably going to be different for the Lu family now.” Whispers flowed through the alleys and streets.
Countless gazes, in the open and in the dark, began to focus on the ordinary mud-brick cottage at the west end of town.
*** Town center, the Spirit Master Hall Deacon’s Office.
Zhao Shi sat in his chair, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the tabletop.
A skinny man stood before him, reporting in a low voice.
“…It really is a white soul ring, plenty of people saw it.
Lu Qinghe himself admitted he broke through, claiming he had a sudden epiphany this morning and got lucky.” “An epiphany?” Zhao Shi sneered.
“Who is he trying to fool?” He recalled the embarrassment he suffered at that kid’s hands half a month ago.
The way the boy held those books, quoting chapter and verse, backing him into a corner until he was speechless.
Now, Lu Qinghe broke through.
A coincidence?
Zhao Shi didn’t believe it.
An old Spirit Master stuck for fifteen years, practically written off as a dead end—just happened to have a sudden “epiphany” and break through right after his son “coincidentally” found something in old books, and the family “coincidentally” started brewing some “Energy Soup”?
There weren’t this many coincidences in the world.
His tapping finger stopped, a cold, dark glint flashing in his eyes.
“Keep watching them,” he ordered.
“Especially the kid.
Whatever he does every day, whoever he meets—even if he goes out and picks up a pebble—record every bit of it for me.” “Yes sir.” The skinny man withdrew.
Zhao Shi sat alone in the room, his eyes falling onto the meager dossier belonging to the Lu family on his desk.
He reached out and drew a deep, harsh scratch across the line that read “Lu Qinghe — Spirit Master (Rank 19)” with his fingernail.
Then, in the blank space beside it, he slowly wrote down a new number.
20.
When he finished, he stared at that number for a long time.
The corners of his mouth stretched wide bit by bit, revealing a cold, mirthless smile.
Interesting.
Now, things were getting very interesting.
*** At dusk, Lu Yuan sat by the window, watching the Blue Silver Grass.
The brief commotion brought on by his father’s breakthrough had passed, and the house had regained its surface calm.
Yet the invisible pressure in the air felt even heavier.
He knew Zhao Shi wouldn’t let this go.
A commoner Spirit Master breaking through a fifteen-year bottleneck might still be brushed off as “luck.” But what if, behind this breakthrough, there really lay some hidden method?
A method that could grant hope even to those with useless martial souls and low soul power.
Then it was no longer “luck.” It was a key.
A key that could unlock the chains bound around countless people.
And keys were always coveted.
Lu Yuan reached out a finger, gently touching the leaf of the Blue Silver Grass.
The leaf quivered slightly, glowing with an extremely faint, almost invisible luminescence in the rays of the setting sun.
He narrowed his eyes.
His father’s breakthrough was both a validation and a warning.
Once they stepped onto this path, there would be no turning back.
They would either break through to the outside world or be torn to shreds at the starting line by the hyenas that picked up the scent.
Outside the window, the sky darkened completely.
Far off in the direction of the Spirit Master Hall, a single speck of lamplight glowed in the night, looking like a solitary eye.