Li Feng sat in the dimly lit chamber, his eyes scanning the pages of his notes with an intensity that bordered on obsession. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with exhilaration. He had uncovered something that could change everything. And yet, as he leaned back, exhaling a slow breath, reality weighed heavily upon him. If he brought this before the Celestial Hall of Inquiry, he would be laughed at. Ridiculed. Not just by the grand scholars of the world, but even by the lesser sects that could not afford to dismiss any new ideas outright. Even they would see him as a fool.

  He could almost hear the echoes of their mockery.

  “Ah, the poor disciple of Xian Wei, still clinging to his mentor’s failed legacy.”

  “Hasn’t the world already dismissed his nonsense?”

  “This time, he’s not just wrong—he’s lost his mind!”

  Even the smallest sects, those desperate to grasp at any new knowledge that could give them an edge, would hesitate to entertain his theory. Because what he was proposing was not just controversial—it was outright heretical to the classical understanding of energy and motion.

  The Fundamental Problem

  Li Feng had spent years refining his thoughts, sharpening his understanding, and solidifying his resolve. He now realized that the world had built its foundation upon flawed principles.

  According to classical alchemy, energy was continuous. If one applied even the smallest force, the electrons—tiny celestial bodies bound to the nucleus like planets to a star—would respond. There was no concept of restriction, no ‘steps’ or ‘levels’ that dictated movement. But Li Feng’s insights defied this reasoning entirely.

  Electrons, he believed, could only move when a specific amount of energy was given. If the energy was too little, nothing would happen. If the energy was just right, they would leap. Not slide. Not gradually shift. Leap. As if they were bound to invisible paths in the heavens, unable to stray from predetermined orbits.

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  And then, there was his boldest assumption yet—the one that defied all reason, all established knowledge.

  He simply assumed that angular momentum was quantized.

  He did not derive it. He did not prove it. He merely stated it.

  L = n (h / 2π)

  Where ‘n’ was a positive integer, and ‘h’ was a fundamental constant.

  It was insanity. It was reckless. It was something no scholar would accept.

  And yet, as he tested his equations, as he carefully examined how everything fit together, he saw something miraculous—

  It worked.

  His theory produced results that matched reality. The spectral lines, the peculiar energy patterns, the seemingly arbitrary jumps in energy levels—everything fit together like a divine puzzle.

  But the world did not care about beauty in numbers. The world demanded proof.

  The Reply to Grandmaster Lao Ming

  Grandmaster Lao Ming’s critique still loomed over him, a shadow that refused to fade. The legendary scholar had dismantled his ideas with brutal efficiency, pointing out the glaring contradiction of an electron spiraling into the nucleus if it truly behaved as they once believed.

  And yet, what was Li Feng’s response to that monumental critique?

  “Let me ignore that.”

  The sheer audacity of it made even him hesitate. But deep down, he knew that this wasn’t stubbornness—it was necessity. If he entertained every critique before presenting his work, he would never move forward. Science was not built upon consensus. It was built upon proving undeniable truths.

  Thus, he did not intend to argue. He did not intend to debate. He intended to prove.

  A New Plan

  Words would not win this war. Even if he had the greatest argument in existence, even if his logic was airtight, the weight of reputation would crush him before he could take a step forward. The Celestial Hall of Inquiry, the scholars, the sects—none of them would care for his words alone.

  But what if he did not simply present his theory? What if he forced the world to acknowledge it?

  What if his understanding of quantum energy became the foundation of a new power?

  He had spent too long thinking like a scholar. It was time to think like a cultivator.

  Li Feng began planning, plotting. He would forge a path that no one could dismiss. He would create a power that no one could ignore. And when the time came, the very people who laughed at him would be the ones forced to kneel before the truth.

  His work was not just the pursuit of knowledge.

  It was war.