Chương 108: 1.105 In which Ning resolves his regrets~

The first thing Ling Yinran saw when she entered the small kitchen was Ning standing in front of the stove. He had his sleeves tied back, his hair loosely gathered, and one hand holding a wooden ladle while the other carefully controlled the flame beneath the pot. Ling Yinran almost told him to go back and rest, but the words stopped before they left her mouth. Only then did she remember that seven days had already passed.

She blinked, only then realizing she had grown so accustomed to seeing her junior brother wrapped in bandages and looking half-dead that watching him stand here normally felt oddly unfamiliar. He still moved a little slower than usual, and there was a faint paleness to his complexion, but he looked steady. More importantly, he wore that same intensely focused expression he always had whenever he buried himself in alchemy. Ling Yinran shuddered. The memory of those days was still vivid.

Every time her aunt entered seclusion, Ning would somehow find her instead, armed with an endless stream of questions. By the end of it, she always felt she had finally experienced what it truly meant to be a Senior Sister. Ling Yinran gave herself a small shake, forcefully banishing the nightmare from her thoughts before speaking.

"Junior Brother," she said from the doorway, "you don't need to do this." Ning never took his eyes off the pot.

"I know."

"Then why are you doing it?" He stirred the stew once, watching the thick broth roll over the meat and herbs before answering.

"Because after surviving that whole ordeal, I promised myself I'd have one." Ling Yinran paused. The words were simple, but something in them made her expression soften before she could stop it. Zheng Mengqi, who had slipped in behind her, leaned around Ling Yinran's shoulder and looked toward the stove, her eyes brightening almost instantly.

"Oh!" Zheng Mengqi clasped her hands together, her face lighting up with utterly sincere anticipation.

"So I can finally eat some good food." Ling Yinran turned to look at her.

"Mengqi... you've been coming here for every meal." Zheng Mengqi flashed an entirely shameless smile.

"Whose fault is that? You're the one who keeps ordering the best spiritual food."

"That food is for Junior Brother's recovery."

"Exactly." Zheng Mengqi nodded solemnly.

"And I'm helping by making sure none of it goes to waste." Ling Yinran looked at her for a long moment.

"... It never does." From beside the stove, Ning let out a helpless sigh without turning around.

"You two do know I can hear everything you're saying, right?" Zheng Mengqi immediately lifted one hand.

"Good. Then Junior Brother Ning can personally confirm that food tastes better when shared with cheerful company." Ling Yinran looked at her friend for a moment, then said, "You invited yourself."

"With cheerful initiative." Ning decided not to enter that battlefield. He'd survived enough lately, and saw no reason to challenge a bubbly inner disciple whose confidence seemed harder than Mei Long's hide. So he simply lifted the lid from the pot and let the steam rise. The fragrance filled the kitchen in an instant. It was deep, rich, and heavy enough that even Ling Yinran's composed expression shifted.

The broth had turned a dark amber-red, glossy with a thin layer of golden spirit oil, and within it rested thick cuts of short rib from a mountain-horned spirit ox, the meat having softened until it nearly separated from the bone under its own weight.

Purple-veined cloud potatoes had broken slightly at the edges, thickening the stew naturally, while slices of moon ginger, firegrass root, black pearl garlic, winter bamboo fungus, and three leaves of mild-grade Clear Fragrance Herb balanced the heaviness with a clean medicinal sweetness.

A few crimson dates floated near the surface, their skin wrinkled from long simmering, and beneath them Ning had hidden a small handful of ground frost sesame to soften the fiery nature of the ox meat so that his currently weak body could smoothly digest the food. Zheng Mengqi's eyes widened. Ling Yinran stared at the pot. Even Fenghuang, perched near the window practicing the sun-kissed technique, turned his head slightly. Ning looked at them, then at the pot, and allowed himself a faint smile.

"It still needs one last circulation." He raised his hand, and the spiritual qi around the pot changed. This was spiritual cooking. Ning had already learned the basics, and he preferred putting what he learned into practice. His approach to learning had always been simple: application deepened understanding. Spiritual cooking did not violently extract medicinal essence the way alchemy sometimes did.

Instead, it guided the natural qi within the food, harmonized conflicting properties, preserved texture, strengthened flavor, and made the body absorb the nourishment more smoothly. Naturally, Ning respected this art, which not only brought out deliciousness but also carried real benefits. His qi entered the pot in thin, careful threads to guide the spiritual essence already released into the broth. The warmth of the mountain-horned spirit ox sank deeper into the cloud potatoes.

The coolness of the frost sesame softened the firegrass root. The moon ginger sharpened the fragrance, the black pearl garlic deepened it, and the Clear Fragrance Herb lifted the whole stew just enough that the richness did not become overwhelming. The surface of the broth shimmered faintly. For one brief moment, the steam rising from the pot seemed to form the vague shape of a little ox lowering its horns before dissolving into fragrance.

Zheng Mengqi inhaled deeply before placing a hand dramatically over her heart.

"I understand now." Ling Yinran glanced at her.

"What do you understand?"

"Why Senior Sister Yinran protects her junior brother so carefully." Ling Yinran's ears turned slightly red.

"That has nothing to do with the stew."

"Nuh-uh. In my head, it does." Zheng Mengqi smiled teasingly.

"Let's eat." Ning wisely interrupted before the conversation could develop any further. He took four bowls from the side table. Ling Yinran immediately stepped forward to help, but before she could reach for the ladle, Ning raised a hand to stop her.

"I can serve stew."

"You should at least leave this much to me," Ling Yinran protested.

"I fought a man turned wolf, a former Foundation Establishment cultivator, and a cannibal all in one and survived." Ning tightened his grip around the ladle with great dignity.

"I refuse to lose to kitchenware." He was still somewhat bitter about Mei Long. After everything that bastard had put him through, Ning hadn't even gotten any loot from the guy. People always said murder and arson were the fastest roads to wealth, but Ning was beginning to suspect that particular piece of cultivation wisdom simply didn't apply to him. Come to think of it, the first time he'd been involved in killing anyone had been during the incident with Sun Jing.

There had been several bandits back then, which should've meant several storage bags full of loot. Unfortunately, Sun Jing had finished them off with a talisman powerful enough to blow them and most of their belongings to pieces. Hm. Ning paused. Both times he'd lost his loot because of an explosion. Maybe the problem wasn't murder and arson. Maybe he just needed to stop blowing up the people he wanted to loot.

Ling Yinran narrowed her eyes slightly at him, perhaps sensing that his thoughts had wandered somewhere questionable, but ultimately let the matter pass. Ning carefully filled the first bowl, making sure it contained meat, potato, mushroom, and enough broth to soak everything properly. The short rib was so tender that it nearly fell apart as he lifted it, thick strands of meat slipping from the bone before settling into the bowl.

Rich broth clung to its surface, and the fragrance alone made Zheng Mengqi unconsciously take half a step forward before Ling Yinran caught her lightly by the sleeve. Ning filled the second bowl, then the third and fourth. Only after setting all four bowls on the small table did he lower himself into his seat, moving noticeably slower than either of the women and the bird. Ling Yinran noticed immediately.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah." Ning shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm just getting used to moving properly again. My body's gotten pretty stiff after lying around without exercise for so long." Ling Yinran still looked unconvinced, but Ning had already turned his attention back to the table. Looking at the four bowls, he suddenly thought of someone who was missing.

"It would've been better if Master were here too." Ling Yinran's expression softened slightly.

"I know. She actually came out of seclusion not long ago and was planning to see you, but she happened to run into Grandmaster Fu Xuan. Somehow, the two of them ended up spontaneously deciding to go somewhere together."

"Grandmaster Fu Xuan?" Ning blinked. That was his master's master. Come to think of it, he had yet to meet her properly. He wondered what kind of person she was. Considering she was technically his grandmaster, he'd probably have to be on his best behavior whenever that meeting finally happened. After all, first impressions mattered.

"Don't worry," Ling Yinran added, perhaps realizing how her words made her aunt sound.

"Knowing Aunt, she'll be back soon enough. She's been wanting to see her 'dear disciple' ever since she came out of seclusion." Ning smiled. He could practically hear Ling Xin saying those exact words.

"Well, I'll look forward to it." Zheng Mengqi's eyes immediately lit up as she looked between the two of them.

"Yinran, you really do give off big-sister energy. I want you to pamper me too." Naturally, she couldn't allow a wholesome moment to survive for more than a few breaths. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Zheng Mengqi never missed an opportunity to tease her usually stoic best friend. Ling Yinran slowly turned toward her.

"..." Zheng Mengqi held her gaze for approximately two breaths before sitting up straight.

"... All right. I'm shutting up." Satisfied, Ling Yinran turned back toward Ning. Ning picked up his bowl with both hands, but for a moment, he didn't eat. Warm, fragrant steam curled against his face, and as he breathed it in, the small kitchen around him seemed to overlap with another one buried deep within his memories. He had been about to eat stew that day too. Twenty-four hours of preparation, waiting, adjusting, and cooking, all for a meal he had never gotten the chance to taste.

His sudden transmigration had taken that from him, along with everything else from a world that had continued without him. Strangely, the thought didn't make him as sad as he might have expected. Instead, Ning felt a quiet sense of completion. It was such a small and ordinary thing compared to everything that had happened since his arrival in this world. Yet as Ning looked down at the bowl in his hands, it felt as though some tiny thread left hanging from the moment his old life ended had finally been tied off.

Ning smiled faintly and lowered his spoon into the broth. And, most importantly, it was a damn good stew.... The wooden practice spear felt slightly awkward in Ning's hands. It was much lighter than what he was used to, and holding it only made him miss his actual weapons. Love and Friendship. Ning sighed wistfully.

"At least I can say I survived through the power of love and friendship." Jokes aside, those two weapons really had done their best. Between Mei Long's attacks and Ning pushing them far beyond what weapons of their grade were reasonably expected to endure, both had come out of the battle badly damaged. Naturally, that meant repairs. Thankfully, Ling Yinran had offered to take care of the matter and had taken both weapons off his hands.

Ning didn't know exactly what she planned to do with them, but considering her expertise in puppet creation and maintenance, he was more than happy to leave them in her care. There was even a chance they might come back better than before. Ning's mood immediately improved at the thought. He couldn't wait to meet Love and Friendship 2. 0. Ning stood in the small training courtyard of Spiritual Flower Peak and began by slowly stretching his body.

He rolled his shoulders, loosened his waist and legs, then carefully circulated a thread of qi through his meridians while paying attention to every part of himself. There was almost no pain. His ribs still felt slightly stiff when he drew an especially deep breath, and his wrist gave a faint complaint when he tightened his grip too much, but those were little more than lingering discomforts. Considering the state he'd been in after fighting Mei Long, his recovery over a single week was frankly ridiculous.

Then again, the pills in this world could be considered miracle pills. That was probably necessary, given how bloodthirsty and battle-hungry the people of this world were. Most people were always ready to run the fade if the worst came to worst. Similarly, his senior sister also went above and beyond to treat him. High-tier healing pills, medicinal pastes, recovery incense, spiritual food, and several things Ning hadn't even bothered learning the names of had been poured into him over the past seven days.

With a cultivator's already-superior constitution on top of all that, most of his injuries had practically been bullied into healing.

"Bullied into healing..." He never thought he'd hear himself utter such a sentence. He wasn't quite back to perfect condition, but he was close enough that ordinary movement and light exercise were no longer a concern. The past week had already tested his patience enough. He had wanted to train and make his numbers go brrr so much, especially after everything he'd just gone through. Instead, he had rested, like a responsible patient.

There were few things in cultivation stories more irritating than characters who were explicitly told by physicians, elders, and friends to rest, only to sneak out that very night because there was no time to waste, or because mere injuries couldn't stop their path. Inevitably, their wounds worsened, and everyone around them worried themselves sick. In the end, somehow the whole thing was still treated as an admirable show of determination rather than an astonishing lack of common sense.

Ning refused to become that kind of injured idiot. With that thought, he finally began moving. He started slowly, going through a few basic stretches and stances before transitioning into simple thrusts with the wooden spear. There was no qi behind them and no attempt to practice any particular spear art. He simply stepped, thrust, withdrew, turned, and repeated, gradually allowing his muscles to remember the familiar rhythm.

At first, his body felt slightly stiff after spending so many days in bed, but the awkwardness faded quickly. His steps became lighter, his balance steadier, and the lingering tension in his muscles gradually disappeared as warmth spread through his limbs. After several minutes, Ning increased the pace slightly. He tested his footwork, performed a few controlled movements from Bone Forging Fist, and finally tried several slow transitions between the two.

Nothing strenuous, nothing that placed meaningful pressure on his recovering body, just enough movement to reacquaint himself with it. By the time a thin layer of sweat had formed across his forehead, Ning felt considerably better. He stopped and rolled his shoulders once more. His breathing was steady, his meridians felt normal, and aside from the occasional stiffness in his ribs and wrist, his body responded almost exactly as it had before.

"Good enough." Ning placed the wooden spear aside and took a short rest, allowing his breathing and heartbeat to settle completely. The light exercise had only been to loosen his body. Now it was time for what he had actually come here to practice. The Eternal Severance Art. Among the several enhancements and benefits he'd obtained in the tower, this would rank the highest besides the Infinite Circle. Ning triggered the Spiritual Imprint, and the distant voice of a woman sounded within his mind.

[All things beneath heaven pass through their seasons: spring awakens, summer flourishes, winter stills, and autumn withers. Yet before one can understand the turning of these seasons, one must first learn to witness change itself.] [Do not seek time in rivers, sunlight, or aging flesh alone. These are merely signs of its passing. Time is the thread that carries one state into the next; to understand it, first understand change, and only then seek what binds those changes together.] Ning stood in the quiet courtyard with the wooden spear in hand, carefully digesting those words.

"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Being bedridden for the better part of a week had at least given him plenty of time to think. Since he couldn't cultivate or properly train, Ning had spent much of that time going over the Eternal Severance Art in his head, trying to understand what exactly it demanded of him before he began practicing. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The inheritance was divided into several forms, each touching upon a different aspect of time. Only by comprehending each foundation could one eventually bring them together and truly cut at the thread of time. Naturally, Ning was nowhere near that point. For now, he only needed to take the first step. [First Form: Season-Reading Eye.] Ning considered the name.

He had Pure Eyes, Know Thyself, and enough experience nearly getting killed to understand that the moment before an action was often more important than the action itself. Once a sword was already falling toward his neck, deciding to dodge was somewhat late. What mattered was noticing the tightening shoulder, the shift in balance, the gathering qi, or the moment someone's attention settled upon a target. Season-Reading Eye seemed to take that principle and expand it beyond combat.

"So the important part isn't prediction." Prediction meant using what he knew to guess what would happen next. This technique seemed to demand something different: perceiving the present so clearly that the direction of its change became apparent. Ning looked toward a nearby tree, where a droplet of morning dew hung precariously from the tip of a leaf. Pure Eyes activated, turning his pupils a luminous blue. The world sharpened.

He could see the tiny vibrations passing through the leaf, the droplet deforming beneath its own weight, and the minute connection holding it to the surface. The droplet fell.

"Again." For the next several attempts, Ning changed the conditions himself. He adjusted the angle of the leaves, altered the size of the droplets, and occasionally disturbed them with faint currents of qi. At first, he kept instinctively trying to predict when the water would fall, but that was merely inference. Anyone could look at a droplet hanging from the edge of a leaf and guess what came next. So Ning stopped caring about the result and focused entirely on the process.

Under Pure Eyes, the changes became increasingly obvious. The leaf bent, the water shifted, the point of contact stretched thinner, and eventually the balance holding everything together reached its limit. The droplet fell. Ning's eyes narrowed.

"What I'm looking for isn't the next state. It's the transition between states." Time is the thread by which one state becomes the next. If Pure Eyes allowed him to perceive the present in extraordinary detail, then Season-Reading Eye required him to identify which of those details were actually carrying the present toward its next state. Ning immediately picked up the wooden spear. He performed a simple thrust while observing himself through Pure Eyes and Know Thyself.

His weight shifted, his muscles tightened, qi flowed through the appropriate meridians, and only then did the spear move. Yet even that wasn't the true beginning. Before any of those changes occurred, Ning had already decided to thrust. The moment intent formed, his body had begun preparing to carry it out.

"So that's what it means to look at the intention before the wrist turns." The inheritance suddenly sounded considerably less like ancient cultivator nonsense. Well, that might also be his experience regarding such bullshit coming into play. Ning spent the next hour testing that idea. Sometimes he completed the thrust, sometimes he stopped halfway, and sometimes he changed it into a completely different movement.

A thrust became a sweep, a sweep became a retreat, and each time he observed how the countless little signs revealed by Pure Eyes shifted along with his decision. If Season-Reading Eye were merely predicting the future, then changing his actions midway should make that prediction wrong. But if it truly read the present, then the "season" should change with him. That was the distinction Ning had been looking for. Pure Eyes showed him what was there.

Season-Reading Eye taught him to recognize where those things were already heading. With the principle understood, Ning immediately began putting the theory into practice. He observed leaves bending beneath the wind, insects tensing before they leapt, spiritual herbs turning toward sunlight, and qi gathering before a spell. Keeping Pure Eyes active for so long was mentally exhausting, but gradually, the flood of seemingly unrelated details began to arrange themselves into something he could actually make sense of.

Eventually, Ning returned to the same tree from before. Another droplet hung from the edge of a leaf, trembling faintly in the breeze. This time, he didn't try to calculate when it would fall. He simply watched. The leaf dipped. The droplet stretched beneath its own weight, and the tiny bond holding it to the surface grew thinner. For the briefest instant, those separate changes ceased to feel separate at all.

Ning could see how one naturally led into the next, the present already carrying within it the beginnings of what it would become. The droplet fell. A smile slowly appeared on Ning's face. He hadn't mastered Season-Reading Eye, not even close, but he had finally grasped its foundation. Pure Eyes allowed him to see more of the present; Season-Reading Eye would teach him to read the change hidden within it. And according to the inheritance, what he had just accomplished was only the beginning.

At higher levels, Season-Reading Eye could follow those changes across increasingly greater spans of time, until, at true mastery, its wielder could perceive the remaining duration of a thing. Simply put, it allowed him to see the lifespan of things. Of course, it was not some absolute prediction; injuries, cultivation breakthroughs, life-extending treasures, and countless other changes could still shorten or prolong it. Ning was still very, very far from that.

For now, noticing when a droplet was about to fall was good enough.

"This would probably be one of my most used techniques alongside Pure Eyes." The sheer number of applications Ning could already think of was ridiculous. Combat alone would benefit enormously; if he could eventually overlay Season-Reading Eye with Pure Eyes, his ability to read attacks, weave through them, and identify openings would rise to an entirely different level. Then there was the ability to perceive lifespan at true mastery, which opened up an entirely different avenue of possibilities.

If Ning could eventually observe his own remaining duration, or even perceive the vital qi that sustained it, perhaps he could study exactly how that vitality weakened, recovered, or changed over time. With Know Thyself helping him understand his own condition, he might even find ways to deliberately nourish and reinforce it. Ning was already looking forward to testing just how far he could take it.

"I'll need a name for the combination of the technique, though." Ning rubbed his chin.

"Pure Eyes Plus? Pure Eyes Season Edition?" He considered it seriously for a moment.

"... I'll have to workshop it." Only then did Ning finally activate the Spiritual Imprint. He had deliberately avoided accessing the woman's cultivation memories until now. Even if the imprint couldn't forcibly alter his comprehension, Ning wanted to form his own understanding before looking at someone else's answer. Otherwise, it would be difficult to tell how much of his insight was truly his own. Now he could compare. A memory surfaced.

The young woman sat beneath an ancient tree, quietly watching an autumn leaf trembling upon its branch.

"To read the season is not to divine what comes next. When autumn arrives, the leaf has already begun its departure long before it falls. Its color fades, its vitality retreats, and its bond with the branch weakens. One need not glimpse tomorrow when today's changes already reveal the road beneath its feet." The memory shifted. A swordsman's shoulder tightened before his blade moved. Qi gathered before a technique erupted. A flower swelled before its petals opened.

Different examples, yet all followed the same principle Ning had reached on his own. His eyes opened.

"Good." His comprehension was far shallower than hers, but the road itself was correct. More importantly, he'd reached the foundation of it on his own. Ning looked up at the sky, which was still bright.

"Maybe I should try the other forms as well?" Ning was naturally itching to continue, simply because the first had been so good. The Spiritual Imprint stirred, and the young woman's distant voice once again drifted through his mind. [Second Form: Spring-Severing Step.] [Spring does not begin when the flower blooms. Beneath frozen earth, the seed has already stirred; within barren branches, new life has already awakened. What the eye calls beginning is merely when the hidden becomes seen.] [So too is movement. Before the blade falls, its path has already been chosen; before the fist arrives, strength has already left its root.] [Seek not greater speed. Between stillness and motion lies a fleeting spring, born after intention yet before consequence. Find that season, and step through it.] [Too early, and spring has yet to arrive. Too late, and summer is already upon you.] Ning pondered those words for a while before slowly translating them into something his brain found considerably easier to digest.

"So... it's not about moving faster. It's about moving at the right time." Once an opponent committed to an attack, there would be a brief interval where the action had already begun, but its result had yet to arrive. Spring-Severing Step was about recognizing that interval and moving within it. Combined with Season-Reading Eye, it made considerable sense: the first form showed him where a change was heading, while the second taught him to seize the opening created during that change.

At least, that was Ning's interpretation. Only then did he trigger the Spiritual Imprint. A memory unfolded before him. The young woman stood opposite a swordsman, perfectly still as his blade came sweeping toward her neck. She didn't retreat when his shoulder moved, nor when the sword began to fall. Only when the strike had fully committed to its path did she take a single, unhurried step. The blade passed harmlessly behind her. To an outsider, she might have appeared impossibly fast.

Yet through her memories, Ning understood that her step itself had been nothing extraordinary. She had simply moved at the one moment when her opponent could no longer easily change his attack, but before that attack could reach her. The swordsman attacked again, and once more she slipped past his blade with barely a wasted movement. On the third exchange, however, she waited a fraction too long. Blood scattered across the ground.

The sword had opened a shallow cut along her shoulder, and the young woman immediately retreated, pressing a hand against the wound with an expression that suggested she had just learned something considerably more memorable than whatever was written in the scripture. The memory faded. Ning stared ahead for a moment.

"... Right. So being on the right track doesn't mean I should practice this with an actual sword." Knowing the principle and actually performing it were clearly two very different things. Unlike Season-Reading Eye, this wasn't something he could properly practice by staring at leaves and droplets. He needed a real opponent and an independent attack, preferably starting with something incapable of opening his throat when he inevitably mistimed the first few attempts. Wooden weapons first.

Ning had survived enough life-threatening events for a while. He decided to leave Spring-Severing Step for later and turned his attention toward the third form. [Third Form: Summer-Severing Echo.] [When summer reaches its height, the cicada has already shed its shell, yet its cry remains among the branches. The thunder has passed beyond the mountain, yet the valley still remembers its voice. That which has departed may leave something behind; that which has yet to arrive may already cast its shadow.] [Thus, do not mistake the fruit for the flower, nor the echo for the sound that birthed it. Cause and consequence walk the same road, but who decreed that they must walk side by side?] [Sever their footsteps, and one may arrive while the other lingers.] [Yet heaven keeps its accounts. What is borrowed from tomorrow must one day be returned, and what is denied today will not forget the road back.]"... That's what I get for being happy too soon."

Ning's face slowly scrunched up as he read through the passage again. The explanations were getting progressively weirder. Spring had at least been reasonable. Now heaven was apparently keeping accounts, tomorrow was lending things on credit, and consequences somehow knew their way home. You know, the usual. Still, Ning had learned something from deciphering the previous forms: ignore the flowery nonsense and find the central idea. He went through the passage again and noticed something.

"An echo?" Perhaps an attack could leave behind a second consequence after the first, essentially allowing the same strike to manifest twice. Ning's eyes brightened.

"Double damage?" That actually sounded pretty good. Feeling reasonably confident in his interpretation, Ning activated the Spiritual Imprint. The young woman appeared before a stone wall and casually pressed two fingers against it before walking away. Nothing happened until three breaths later, when a palm-shaped depression suddenly collapsed inward. Ning's smile disappeared. The scene changed. This time, her palm stopped just short of another stone pillar. The pillar cracked first.

Only afterward did her palm complete the strike.

"... Okay, definitely not double damage." As the memory faded, Ning finally understood what he had gotten wrong. Cause and consequence remained connected; Summer-Severing Echo simply altered the interval between them, allowing an effect to linger behind its cause or somehow arrive ahead of it.

"... Temporal displacement?" It was much more interesting than just double damage. If he struck someone now but displaced the consequence several breaths forward, the attack could land without immediately producing its effect. Conversely, if "borrowing from tomorrow" meant what he thought it did, perhaps an effect could even be brought forward before its proper time, with the cost arriving afterward. Ning rubbed his forehead.

"Fine. The cicada thing actually makes sense." He wasn't happy about admitting that. Delayed strikes, traps, talismans, poisons, formations, and several increasingly questionable applications involving alchemy immediately came to mind, but Ning forcibly stopped himself before he disappeared down another rabbit hole. First, he had to actually learn the damn thing, and judging by the headache he was already getting just from understanding the principle, that wasn't happening today.

Ning sighed and turned his attention toward the fourth form. Hopefully, Winter would be more reasonable. He somehow doubted it. [Fourth Form: Winter-Severing Stillness.] [Winter does not command time to cease, for even beneath the deepest snow, the world continues to turn. The river still presses beneath the ice, the seed still holds life beneath frozen earth, and the flame buried beneath ash has yet to truly die.] [All things follow their own course. Blood escapes from an open wound, poison spreads through flesh, flames consume their fuel, and formations circulate spiritual qi along paths laid for them.] [Winter does not halt time. It suppresses change.] [Find the course by which a thing proceeds, sever its momentum, and for a fleeting moment, force what should change to remain as it is.] [Yet winter cannot endure forever. What has merely been suppressed will continue once stillness fades.]"Pause." Ning blinked. That was it?

After the increasingly cryptic explanation of Summer-Severing Echo, Winter-Severing Stillness was almost refreshingly straightforward. The technique temporarily suppressed an ongoing process, essentially forcing something that should have continued changing to remain in its current state. So... a pause button. Ning could work with that. The applications were obvious. The problem was that, for once, Ning couldn't think of even a reasonable starting point for how to accomplish it.

Stopping a flame was easy; one simply extinguished it. Stopping blood meant applying pressure or sealing the wound. But those were physical interventions. Winter-Severing Stillness demanded that the process remain perfectly capable of continuing and yet somehow... not. After staring around the courtyard for inspiration and finding none, Ning gave up on guessing and activated the Spiritual Imprint. A memory surfaced.

The young woman sat cross-legged with a shallow cut across her palm, blood steadily running down her fingers. Her expression was far less serene than in the previous memories. Again and again, she performed the art. But nothing happened. Then, after countless attempts, the bleeding suddenly stopped. For two breaths, the wound remained open, yet not another drop emerged. Then the art collapsed, and blood immediately began flowing again.

The young woman stared at her hand for a long while before laughing in exhausted disbelief. Ning's consciousness returned to the courtyard.

"... two seconds." Even the woman who had left behind the inheritance had struggled that much just to achieve two seconds of stillness, and that was despite the technique being considerably easier to use on oneself. Ning finally understood why this form's explanation had been so simple. There probably wasn't much more to explain. Winter-Severing Stillness was the easiest of the forms to understand and, apparently, the hardest to actually perform.

"Really would've loved an Origin Orb right about now..." Ning couldn't help but mutter. He still remembered the sheer flood of inspiration he'd experienced inside one. With something like that, deciphering these increasingly ridiculous concepts would have been considerably easier. Alas, Xiao Fan had taken care of that particular shortcut. With that lingering grievance, Ning had finally gone through all four foundational forms of the Eternal Severance Art.

Beyond them lay the final form, Autumn Severance-the true killing art of the inheritance. Unlike the others, however, Autumn could not be cultivated independently. Only after Spring, Summer, Winter, and the Season-Reading Eye had all been learned could their principles be brought together to perform the actual severing of time. That was still far beyond Ning. For now, what interested him more was that each of the four foundational forms was already a complete art in its own right.

Season-Reading Eye could read the direction of change, Spring-Severing Step could seize the fleeting interval within that change, Summer-Severing Echo could separate consequence from its proper moment, while Winter-Severing Stillness could interrupt a process that should have continued. He didn't need to master everything before the inheritance became useful. More importantly, he didn't need to learn them all at the same pace. Ning glanced toward the dew-covered leaves beneath the tree.

Of the four, Season-Reading Eye was unquestionably the one most suited to him. Pure Eyes already strengthened his perception, Know Thyself gave him an unusually clear understanding of the changes within his own body, and years of habit had made observing, comparing, and finding patterns almost second nature to him. Spring needed an opponent and precise timing.

Summer was already giving him a headache just thinking about cause and consequence, while Winter had demonstrated that understanding something and actually doing it were two entirely different matters. The choice was obvious.

"Season-Reading Eye first." As for the others, there was no hurry. Ning already understood that the Eternal Severance Art would be a long-term project, perhaps one measured in years rather than months. Thankfully, the Spiritual Imprint made that prospect considerably less terrifying. Whenever he reached a bottleneck, he had the experiences of someone who had already walked the same road to consult, without having to blindly stumble through every mistake himself. And the imprint wasn't his only option.

The world of cultivation had no shortage of strange things related to time. Ancient objects weathered through countless years, spiritual herbs that bloomed only once every century, materials altered by extreme age, ruins carrying traces of bygone eras, and perhaps even treasures or natural phenomena genuinely touched by the Dao of Time. If comprehension could be gained through observing change, then anything that had endured the passage of time in unusual ways might serve as a reference.

Ning's eyes brightened at the thought. There were ways to speed up his comprehension after all; he simply needed to keep an eye out for the right treasures, materials, or opportunities in the future.

"This should probably be a priority too." The more Ning considered the possibilities, the more ridiculous the Eternal Severance Art seemed. Its value wasn't limited to combat. In fact, once he stopped thinking about the final lifespan-cutting technique for a moment, the first four forms alone had enough applications to keep him busy for years. Plants had seasons. Pills had stages of refinement. Formations had cycles. Wounds healed through a process. Poisons spread through stages. Spiritual beasts matured.

Even ores and spiritual materials changed as they absorbed qi over the years. If the Eternal Severance Art ultimately dealt with the transition between states, then why restrict it to killing people? Ning's thoughts immediately wandered toward his farm. Could Season-Reading Eye tell him the exact moment a spiritual herb reached its peak medicinal potency? Could Winter preserve that state for longer? Could Summer push part of its maturation forward?

And if those principles worked on spiritual herbs, could he apply them to fermentation, alchemy, or even the development of spiritual beasts? Hell, forget cultivation resources. With enough practice, he could become the foremost seller of aged wine and cheese in the entire cultivation world. Ning's thoughts paused for a moment.

"... This is going to be dangerous for my free time." And that was before considering the most obvious problem with the final form: lifespan. Normally, paying lifespan to attack someone sounded like an excellent way to turn a supreme inheritance into a very elaborate suicide technique. But this was a cultivation world, which meant one's lifespan wasn't necessarily fixed forever. Longevity pills existed. Life-extending spiritual fruits existed. Cultivation breakthroughs themselves increased lifespan.

Ning's eyes slowly narrowed.

"So technically, there are a lot of ways to cheese it." External treasures might offset some of the expenditure, while accumulated vitality could perhaps serve as a reserve to draw from. Even targeting something already old or decaying might reduce the price. And if Ning could eventually alter the technique itself, perhaps he could find a way to draw the required vitality from somewhere other than his own lifespan. He had no idea whether any of that would actually work.

But no idea was very different from impossible. According to the inheritance notes, the creator of the Eternal Severance Art had once encountered records of a terrifying supernatural ability known as Temporal Decay. Anything touched by its wielder would be forced forward along its natural course of deterioration. Wood rotted, metal rusted, formations weathered, flesh aged, and even spiritual treasures could be reduced to the state they would have reached after centuries of neglect.

At higher levels, it was said that a single touch could steal hundreds of years from a living being. Ning's first reaction upon reading that was simple.

"Xianxia Bullshit." Then again, that was practically the defining feature of high-tier supernatural abilities. There was a reason Know Thyself was considered mid-tier at best, regardless of how creatively Ning used it. His talent gave him information and insight, but Ning still had to figure out what to do with them himself.

Meanwhile, the truly unreasonable talents could duplicate matter, endlessly evolve, adapt to everything, manipulate gravity, distort space, accelerate decay, and perform all manner of nonsense that sounded like cheats given to some Japanese isekai protagonist. Fortunately, such talents were extraordinarily rare. Unfortunately, Ning knew a protagonist.

"... I'm definitely meeting these people eventually, aren't I?" Especially with all the recent talk about a great age of cultivation beginning. Geniuses were emerging in greater numbers, ancient inheritances were resurfacing, and supernatural talents unseen for generations were supposedly appearing again. Under normal circumstances, Ning might have gone his entire life without encountering one of those monsters. With Xiao Fan nearby? He gave it a few years max.

Ning sighed and dragged his thoughts back before he accidentally started planning countermeasures against enemies who didn't even exist yet. The important part was the Eternal Severance Art itself. Its creator had seen an innate ability like Temporal Decay and attempted to reproduce its principles through cultivation. The result wasn't identical, but that hardly mattered. Someone had taken something supposedly granted only by heaven and created a path by which an ordinary cultivator could imitate it.

That alone told Ning something important. The Eternal Severance Art had been created by someone in the first place, which meant there was no reason it couldn't be modified as well. He just needed to find the way. That thought finally made Ning understand why the Tower Spirit had chosen this inheritance for him. His Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity was certainly part of the reason, but probably not all of it.

"... I just hope it wasn't because I'm destined to tragically sacrifice myself for the protagonist." Ning's thoughts immediately went in an unpleasant direction, and he quickly shook his head. No. Surely the Tower Spirit had chosen the inheritance because Ning possessed the talent to learn it and, more importantly, the creativity to find uses for something so difficult and dangerous. Surely. Ning felt much better with that explanation.

"Though the Tower Spirit probably didn't expect me to use it for farming." Speaking of growing vegetables, though, that reminded him of something considerably more immediate. Money. Ning lowered the wooden spear and glanced down at himself. His injuries were mostly healed, but the damage to his pockets remained grievous. The battle with Mei Long had consumed an unreasonable amount of resources.

Talismans, pills, arrows, accumulated Alchemy Qi, damaged equipment, and resources gathered over years of preparation had all disappeared in the span of one fight. He frowned. Wait. Why was he paying for all of this? Mei Long hadn't attacked him because of some personal grudge. Ning had fought him during an attack on the sect, while actively trying to protect said sect. By any reasonable standard, those were work-related expenses.

"Can cultivators submit invoices?" The more Ning considered it, the more reasonable it sounded. Surely the sect had some kind of compensation system for disciples who used personal resources during emergencies. He wasn't asking for a reward-though he certainly wouldn't reject one-he merely wanted reimbursement for the assets sacrificed in the noble defense of sect property. Ning began mentally reconstructing everything he had used against Mei Long. Second-tier talismans. First-tier talismans. Pills. Arrows.

Equipment damage. Perhaps Alchemy Qi could be listed under consumable cultivation resources? There had also been emotional damage, but Ning suspected the General Affairs Hall would become considerably less cooperative if he pushed his luck. Then another thought struck him.

"The water mirror." He had been broadcast across the sect. Ning's expression slowly changed. If only he'd known earlier. He had used talismans from several stores and pills made from various materials; Love and Friendship had both gotten plenty of screen time; and even his arrows had been clearly visible. With the entire sect watching, that battle had essentially been prime advertising space. He could already imagine it.

This life-saving escape was brought to you by the Reverse Wind Talisman, available now at- Ning closed his eyes.

"What a waste." Forget reimbursement. With proper preparation, he might have turned the entire life-and-death battle into a sponsorship opportunity. He had survived Mei Long, yet somehow the greatest tragedy was only becoming apparent a week later.

"Caw!" A familiar cry suddenly came from above. Ning looked up just as Fenghuang swept over the courtyard wall, pure white feathers flashing beneath the sun. The bird descended toward him before circling overhead.

"What happened?" Fenghuang chirped and immediately turned its head toward the courtyard entrance. Ning followed its gaze. A man stood beside the courtyard gate, though Ning had no idea when he'd arrived. A sword rested casually at his side, and despite his handsome features, there was nothing particularly imposing about his bearing. The man looked Ning over, then grinned.

"So you're Ji Ning." Ning stared at him. Could someone please explain why the magical bullshit swordsman he'd been hearing about all week had suddenly appeared in front of him at the exact moment he started thinking about sending the sect an invoice? A terrible possibility occurred to him. Don't tell me he gained another itch in his Sword Heart the moment I thought about it.... A/N: Finally, Ning gets his stew, lol. He deserves it.

Otherwise, he might have to go through another round of character development with his inner demons, and I think he's had enough of that for now. Also, props to the readers who came up with even more uses for the techniques. Especially cheese. How the hell did that one go over my head? Smh. And as always, thanks for reading~