Qin Fen fell silent, the sensation of reaching the Five-Star realm still fresh, and he needed to carefully recall that feeling.

The Master vanished into the darkness with a smile, replaced by a luminous figure composed entirely of white light, its features indistinct.

This light-being was far too familiar to Qin Fen.

Compared to powerful experts like the King of Filth, Qin Fen’s greatest headache was encountering this being made solely of pure white light.

Without emotion, ignoring all explanations, it loyally executed commands as if they were programming.

Qin Fen looked up at the figure that had materialized from thin air, thoroughly confused. By any calculation, his current state should not have been enough to summon the light-being; how had it appeared?

“Please commence the cultivation of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Gong…”

The light-being’s voice, perpetually stiff and devoid of emotion, struck Qin Fen like a colossal bolt of lightning, freezing him in place.

“Cultivate now?” Qin Fen stared at the light-being and couldn't help but ask, “Say, is there an issue with your programming? In my current condition, do you want me to cripple myself?”

“The cultivator has entered the Five-Star state; consolidation is required, consolidation is required…”

When the light-being’s synthesized voice echoed out, Qin Fen broke into a cold sweat.

The system truly had malfunctioned! No—perhaps the system wasn't malfunctioning. It simply lacked flexibility. It recognized the entry into the Five-Star power level but failed to register that he had fallen back. Furthermore, the cultivator was in an unprecedented state of fatigue.

“Please begin cultivation…”

Qin Fen was utterly speechless. There was no possibility of negotiation with this light-being. The only way to avoid cultivation was to defeat it.

Defeat the light-being? Qin Fen assessed himself. If he were in the state he’d been during the Crimson Scorpion showdown, defeating this upgraded, higher-starred light-being might have been possible.

Now? Qin Fen understood clearly. A ten-year-old who had trained for two or three years could probably defeat him.

No resistance was possible; cultivation was mandatory.

Qin Fen sat cross-legged, palms facing the sky, chest drawn in and back arched, summoning his nearly desiccated Dantian. In this condition, the first priority was not to circulate Zhenqi (True Qi), but how to recover it as quickly as possible and refill that withered core.

The Dantian was so dry it rivaled a reservoir during a drought season.

Qin Fen mocked himself, and a flash of inspiration crossed his mind.

A reservoir… a dry reservoir can be replenished by the heavy rains of the wet season, or it can be supplemented by countless small streams.

What about the Dantian? Qin Fen began to search his meridians.

Days of diligent practice in controlling Zhenqi had taught Qin Fen one thing: whether fighting, cultivating, or resting, not one hundred percent of his Zhenqi was ever utilized.

Not all Zhenqi was perfectly gathered in the Dantian; a significant amount leaked away, much like sand escaping through the gaps in a clenched fist. Zhenqi operated on the same principle; residual Zhenqi lingered in numerous meridians throughout the body.

The higher the precision of power control, the less Zhenqi remained trapped in other channels.

Normally, less residual Zhenqi meant more gathered in the Dantian, thus accelerating cultivation speed. This was why the King of Filth constantly emphasized the importance of Zhenqi control.

While cultivating, Qin Fen had indeed noticed a considerable amount of residual Zhenqi in his meridians previously.

Now, thinking of streams, he naturally thought of this trapped Zhenqi.

Perhaps the quantity wasn't huge, but for a nearly depleted Dantian—for a nearly dry reservoir—this was an incredibly crucial resource.

Soon, Qin Fen located residual Zhenqi in many of his meridians. He began to meticulously recover and guide these energies.

When Zhenqi was abundant, Qin Fen often failed to notice these lingering pockets. Even if he noticed them, the sheer volume of energy meant he lacked the focus to fully master all of it.

Now, with his Dantian almost empty, Qin Fen didn't need to divide his attention managing the core Zhenqi; he only needed to escort the wandering Zhenqi back home.

One point, two points, three points…

Qin Fen was like a diligent little bee, collecting the Zhenqi bit by bit, depositing it back into the Dantian.

The Dantian, which had been nearly exhausted, finally held a minuscule foundation again. Though sparse, it represented a massive change from the previous desolation.

Composing himself slightly, Qin Fen searched again through his various internal meridians, hoping to find any stragglers.

The result was surprising: not only were the major meridians clean of stragglers, but even the intricate web of tiny channels was so bare he suspected he might possess the potential to scrape the earth clean.

Everything prepared, Qin Fen slowly began to circulate the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Gong. Since his Zhenqi was severely diminished, he would simply slow down his circulation speed during the journey along the pathways.

As the speed decreased, Qin Fen discovered many things he hadn't noticed when his Zhenqi was abundant. Human meridians were not smooth and flat like the surface of polished glass; they were more like a highway.

No road in this world is as smooth as a mirror, not even an F1 racetrack achieves that level of polish.

The meridians were the same.

Beginners in Qi cultivation lack the sensitivity to perceive anything beyond the mere flow of energy; observing the structure of the meridians is impossible.

Once a cultivator's Zhenqi becomes sufficiently abundant, their attention is drawn to the difficulty of moving that energy, leading them to focus on increasing the speed of one full cycle.

It is difficult to pause and examine the condition of one’s own meridians—the 'superhighway' carrying the Zhenqi—to see if it is truly level.

When a cultivator over-expends their Zhenqi, the standard procedure is rest, waiting for the energy to slowly replenish before resuming cultivation, thereby avoiding errors caused by insufficiency.

Every cultivator knows that forcing cultivation when Zhenqi is low demands extremely high degrees of control and concentration; otherwise, one risks going berserk, resulting in incapacitation or even death. (Computer reading w ww .1 6 k. cn) (Computer reading w w w.16k . cn）

Few cultivators have the peculiar 'privilege' of being forced to cultivate when utterly depleted of Zhenqi, like Qin Fen.

The meridians were actually a channel riddled with pits and troughs, uneven!

Qin Fen was astonished. He had always assumed the meridians were smooth; they turned out to be so jagged!

With such road conditions, it was no wonder Zhenqi slowed down during transit. It was like throwing an F1 race car onto a badly potholed road; its potential speed was restricted by the terrain.

Could such meridians be repaired, like patching the holes in a highway? Qin Fen carefully guided his Zhenqi, allowing it to rise and fall along the uneven contours of the channels. Paradoxically, the forward speed was several points faster than when his Zhenqi was full.

A cycle that usually took several hours was completed in just one hour this time.

Upon completing this first cycle, Qin Fen noticed his Zhenqi had become slightly denser.

In the second cycle, Qin Fen found that because the Zhenqi had grown heavier, controlling it was not as effortless as before. The difficulty of navigating the ups and downs of the uneven meridians increased significantly.

This situation persisted until one-fifth of the second cycle was complete before Qin Fen finally regained complete mastery over the now slightly thickened Zhenqi.

The first fifth of the second cycle was slightly delayed due to initial difficulty in control. This cycle took just over an hour to complete fully.

The third cycle saw the Zhenqi enhance further compared to the second, making it even harder to control its ascent and descent along the rugged pathways. This required traversing ninety-five percent of the cycle before control was fully secured.

The fourth cycle, the fifth cycle, the sixth cycle. The seventh cycle. The eighth—

With every completed cycle, the difficulty in achieving full mastery over the Zhenqi increased incrementally. By the eighth cycle, Qin Fen realized he needed to pass ninety-five percent of the progress just to achieve full control.

Despite the escalating difficulty in control, Qin Fen also realized that this practice of guiding the Zhenqi over the peaks and valleys had elevated his control to an unprecedented level. Even facing the King of Filth again, he was now confident he could defeat him while retaining only Three-Star strength.

Beyond refined control, Qin Fen also found that this method of guiding the Zhenqi up and down resulted in a far superior growth rate than when he was unaware of the meridian imperfections.

“Is this what the Master meant by that good thing?” Qin Fen harbored doubts. He sensed that the Master’s words were not so simple.

Discovering the roughness of the meridians was remarkable, but it was still a visible, surface-level phenomenon. The Master’s style was to provide a starting point, leading one to discover deeper truths.

“Something deeper?”

Qin Fen felt puzzled. What exactly constituted something deeper?

Quietly controlling the Zhenqi, quietly contemplating the Master’s cryptic guidance.

In this specialized dream-like mental space, Qin Fen felt like a stone, while the white light-being floated silently beside him, like the sternest of instructors.

Du Zhanpeng’s room was not large; it held a simple wooden bed and a massive bookshelf laden with various texts.

Military, politics, martial arts, science…

Brilliant, outstanding youth are not born from thin air. The instantaneous brilliance displayed before others is often backed by strenuous, unseen effort.

The martial arts manuals, treasured like gold by many, were swept onto the floor by Xing Wuyi from the bookshelf. Behind the books, a secret compartment, about half a foot square, was revealed.

He gently pressed a button on the compartment, and a holographic projection appeared in the air: Please input the name of the person I cherish most.

“Du Peng.”

Xing Wuyi quickly typed those two names he detested onto the virtual keyboard. The compartment slowly slid open on both sides, revealing an exquisite red metal box, about the size of a fist.

Xing Wuyi carefully took out the red box, and past scenes flooded his mind again.

“Wuyi, do you know? I secretly participated in an operation to encircle and suppress some mercenaries and managed to take down two terrorists from the Federation’s Most Wanted list, earning some money.”

“Don’t you lack money?”

“Ha! How could I not lack it? I need a lot.”

“Oh? Really? What do you want to buy?”

“A Bio-Beast Egg…”

“Aren’t you already dealing with high-level Bio-Beasts? Why risk participating in an encirclement yourself?”

“My younger brother is turning eighteen soon; I want to prepare a birthday gift for him.”

“Will he accept it? Even if you give it to him, he won't thank you.”

“That’s simple enough! I’ll just provoke him a little, and that little fool will take it.”

“It’s not about worth; I am his older brother.”