As Li Heng bid farewell to his friends, he walked steadily through the dimly lit streets of Yunshan, the crisp night air carrying the distant sounds of laughter and music from the entertainment district. Upon arriving at his courtyard, he pushed open the wooden gate, the faint creak breaking the stillness of the night.

  Inside, Li Yuntai immediately stood up from where he had been sitting near the entrance, clasping his hands and bowing slightly. “Father, you’ve returned.”

  Li Heng nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “It’s late. You should rest soon.”

  Li Yuntai hesitated for a moment before asking, “Was the gathering pleasant?”

  Li Heng chuckled softly. “Just old men reminiscing and complaining, as always.” He placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Rest early. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

  Li Yuntai nodded, watching as his father retreated into his quarters. He then turned to close the courtyard gate, securing it before heading to his own room. The night passed quietly, the cold settling over the city like a thin veil.

  As the first rays of the sun stretched over the rooftops, the Li family courtyard remained peaceful. The usual morning bustle filled the streets of Yunshan as merchants set up their stalls, and the clang of metal from blacksmiths echoed in the distance. Time passed quickly, and soon, the sun had climbed high into the afternoon sky.

  Having completed his shift as a waiter in a modest restaurant, Li Yuntai made his way home. As he reached the town square, he noticed an unusual crowd gathered around a newly posted notice. Curious, he approached and found a group of townspeople murmuring amongst themselves while those who could read explained the contents to others.

  Even before reaching the poster, Li Yuntai caught snippets of conversation:

  “The magistrate, Zhao Feng, is personally recruiting guards?”

  “Something must be happening. The usual recruitment isn’t for another two years.”

  “They’re offering free meals from morning to evening during training, and the pay is generous.”

  Stepping closer, he scanned the notice himself. It confirmed what he had overheard—the local magistrate was conducting an early recruitment drive for city guards, offering benefits such as free food, guaranteed lodging, and a higher salary than usual.

  Li Yuntai furrowed his brows. Why now? The recruitment cycle was predictable, and he had originally planned to enlist in the next round. For them to start ahead of schedule… something must be wrong.

  As Li Yuntai stepped into the Li family courtyard, he noticed his younger brother, Li Xun, already seated at the stone table in the center. The faint traces of ink on his sleeves and the scrolls neatly stacked beside him indicated that he had just returned from his scholarly discussions.

  Seeing his older brother enter, Li Xun straightened up slightly and greeted him, “Elder Brother, you’re back.”

  Li Yuntai nodded and walked over, settling down across from him. “How was today’s discussion?”

  Li Xun let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “The same as always. Some were showing off their calligraphy, others bragging about the classics they memorized. A few even argued over which dynasty had the greatest military strategy. Just endless talk.” He reached for his teacup, taking a sip before adding, “What about you? You seem distracted.”

  Li Yuntai hesitated for a moment before saying, “On my way back, I saw a new recruitment notice from Magistrate Zhao Feng. They’re enlisting guards ahead of schedule.”

  Li Xun furrowed his brows. “Ahead of schedule? That’s unusual.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Li Yuntai said, tapping his fingers on the table. “It’s not just that—they’re offering better pay and free meals for the recruits. It feels rushed, as if something is wrong.”

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  Li Xun leaned back, folding his arms. “I did hear some rumors during my studies today. Some say the Zhao family has been unusually active lately, especially their military forces. There are talks that their soldiers have been mobilizing towards the northern border.”

  “The northern border…” Li Yuntai muttered, rubbing his chin. “Could it be that war is on the horizon?”

  Li Xun exhaled slowly. “Some believe it’s just a precaution, but others say there might already be skirmishes happening beyond what we know. If Zhao Feng is increasing the city’s defenses, it means Yunshan might become a target or at least an important stronghold in whatever conflict is brewing.”

  Li Yuntai remained silent for a while, processing his brother’s words. The implications were clear—this wasn’t just an ordinary recruitment; it was preparation for something bigger. He looked at his younger brother and asked, “Do you think I should enlist now instead of waiting for the next cycle?”

  Li Xun met his gaze and smirked. “Since when do you ask me for advice? I thought you always did what you wanted.”

  Li Yuntai chuckled. “I do. But this time, it’s different.”

  Li Xun grew serious. “If Yunshan is truly preparing for something, then being inside the system might give you better insight into what’s coming. But if you enlist, you have to be prepared for the possibility that you’ll be dragged into something bigger than just guarding the city.”

  Li Yuntai nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  The two brothers sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought, as the wind carried the distant sounds of the bustling town beyond the courtyard walls.

  Li Yuntai sighed and leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table. “Since we don’t know what’s happening, it’s better to wait for Father to return before making any decisions.”

  He glanced at Li Xun before asking, “Where’s Little Yue?”

  Li Xun smirked slightly at his brother’s question. “You should know by now. Where else would she be?”

  Li Yuntai exhaled, already knowing the answer. “She’s probably at Aunt Mei’s courtyard again, isn’t she?”

  Li Xun nodded. “Where else? Either helping with embroidery, learning poetry, or pestering the old storytellers in the market for more tales. She’s been obsessed with the legend of the ‘Crimson Phoenix’ lately.”

  Li Yuntai chuckled. “That sounds like her. If she’s not listening to stories, she’s probably practicing her calligraphy or trying to sneak a look at Father’s books.”

  A brief silence settled between them before Li Yuntai’s expression became more serious. “Has Mother woken up today?”

  Li Xun’s smirk faded, replaced by a more somber look. He nodded slightly. “As usual, she only wakes up occasionally, and even then, only for a few moments. Although the medicine helps suppress her sleepiness a little, it has no other real effect.”

  Li Yuntai sighed, a deep weight pressing against his chest. Their mother’s illness was rare, something few physicians had ever seen. Over time, it caused the afflicted to sleep longer and longer, until eventually, they would no longer wake up. It was like a slow descent into an eternal slumber.

  “The only thing we can do,” he muttered, almost to himself, “is suppress it for as long as we can.”

  Li Xun didn’t say anything, but the way his hands clenched slightly at the table’s edge showed that he shared his brother’s frustration.

  Guo Chenwei floated within the mysterious box, his form still a mist-like figure, though now slightly more human in shape. His misty body shimmered with a faint reverence, yet frustration lined his expression.

  “Why doesn’t this work?” he muttered to himself.

  For days, he had been attempting to activate the Heavenly Source Monument’s miniature world function, trying to create a small space rich in spiritual qi. But no matter what he did, the concentration of qi remained pitifully weak. Ever since he awakened, he had realized the outside world’s spiritual qi was nearly nonexistent. Even if a genius blessed by the heavens were born here, they would barely reach the fifth level of the first realm in their entire lifetime—even with the help of spiritual treasures.

  Guo sighed, a deep sense of helplessness washing over him. He knew that without a proper cultivation environment, he would be stuck in this formless state indefinitely.

  Turning his focus back to the miniature world, he isolated a small space—about the size of a soccer field—and began shaping it. Slowly, the once empty void transformed into a simple grassland. Trees sprouted, a small stream began to flow, and the terrain formed gentle hills. At the top of the space, a soft glowing sun emerged, casting warm light over the land.

  Hovering above his creation, Guo felt a small sense of satisfaction. This place was still desolate, but it had potential.

  Raising his hand, he chanted an incantation, and suddenly, golden runes flickered in the air. A faint ripple spread through the space, as if a new law had just been inscribed.

  “In time, this place will act as a simple ecosystem,” he mused. “The spiritual qi that converges into the Heavenly Source Monument can now be contained here, creating a natural blessing ground for cultivation.”

  He estimated it would take at least two months before the spiritual qi began condensing properly. But even that felt too slow.

  Guo sighed again. “If only spirit stones could be gathered, it would speed up the process…”

  For now, though, this was a start. A space that—once matured—would allow cultivators to grow stronger far more quickly than in the outside world.

  Guo Chenwei observed the miniature world he had created, his mist-like form drifting above the newly formed land. Now that the spiritual qi was condensing steadily, he could see the first signs of its transformation.

  "Once the qi reaches the level of a fifth-grade spiritual cave, this space will begin expanding on its own without diminishing the qi quality," he thought. "Eventually, it will encompass the entire miniature world while maintaining its purity."

  But he had no time to simply wait and watch. His next task was even more crucial—selecting a Tao Seed inheritor.

  Since the outside world's spiritual qi was too thin, it was unlikely that someone with natural talent for cultivation would emerge. That left him with only one choice—to awaken a potential inheritor from the people around him.

  "I have no other options," Guo muttered to himself. "Even if I don’t want to choose them, I am bound by my limitations. I cannot move from this space, so I can only work with what I have."

  With that decision made, Guo Chenwei drifted upward, his mist-like form beginning to dissolve. The next moment, he found himself in a vast white expanse, an endless void stretching in all directions.

  Here, his form solidified, becoming more tangible, though still shrouded in mist. He flexed his fingers, feeling a greater sense of presence than before.

  "This space… Yes, it will do."

  This was the Testing Realm, a space within Heavenly Source Monument where he could evaluate potential candidates.

  "Now, let’s see… who among them is worthy?"