The storm was fierce. This storm raged both within and without the North Peak.

In the violence of this tempest, countless lives were lost. Such was the consequence of daring to touch a true disciple.

Master Yuanyuan was asserting his authority. Even Sima Changbai was stripped of his post, which showed just how serious he was this time.

Through this tempest, everyone inside and outside the peak learned that the North Peak’s true disciples were not to be trifled with; Master Yuanyuan remained as fiercely protective of his own as ever. However, even the strongest storm must eventually blow over.

This particular storm, too, gradually subsided. —————— Time slipped by once more.

It was now the 5333rd year of the Great Jin Dynasty calendar. At this time, a semblance of calm had returned to the North Peak of Mount Hua.

The North Peak. The weather this day was excellent—a clear, bright day.

White clouds drifted lazily under the warm sunlight. On a patch of grassland halfway up the North Peak, a youth lay stretched out, his longsword serving as a pillow.

Beside him rested a bottle of wine. After lying there for a while, he occasionally lifted the bottle to take a swig.

The wine went down his throat, and without realizing it, another year had passed. He was eighteen now.

During this past year, the North Peak had been wracked by an intense storm, though it had mostly abated by now. Throughout the year, he had reverted to his usual languid demeanor.

Yes, he would never forget the wrong done to him by Sima Changbai, but hatred need not be voiced daily or plastered across one’s face; it only needed to be held in the heart. This year, he had managed a rare burst of effort, dedicating nearly three shichen (six hours) a day to cultivation—significantly more diligent than before.

Of course, hearing this would likely bring other true disciples to tears, as they typically spent five or six shichen cultivating daily. Yet, this year had not been without progress.

With the aid of the three Cloud Rabbits and four Cloud Cats stored within the Spirit Sealing Plaque, he had cultivated smoothly over the past year, reaching the minor vein and fine capillary stage, the eighth level of the Qi Refining Realm. Within the body, besides the Twelve Main Meridians and the Eight Extraordinary Vessels, there existed finer, inconspicuous veins and capillaries.

Previously, in the Minor Heavenly Cycle, magical energy circulated only through the main meridians. Upon reaching the eighth level’s fine capillaries, the energy began to flow into these smaller channels, causing a further increase in magical power.

Advancing from the seventh to the eighth level of Qi Refining was generally not difficult; it primarily depended on the accumulation of magical power. However, progressing from the eighth level’s fine capillaries to the ninth level’s Major Heavenly Cycle was considerably harder; it was not an easy breakthrough.

Once the Major Heavenly Cycle was condensed, magical energy would flow ceaselessly through every meridian in the body, making one countless times more potent and powerful than in the Minor Heavenly Cycle. Naturally, he was currently at the eighth level, the fine capillary stage.

To push his magical power to this point in just one year was quite respectable. Of course, he hadn't only focused on cultivation this year.

He had also practiced some sword techniques, including his Master’s Fading Twilight Sword Style, but he couldn't quite grasp its essence. According to his Master, this wasn't due to a lack of talent in swordsmanship, but rather the nature of his temperament.

A sword, much like a person. For someone like Master Li Yuanbai, who was naturally composed, practicing the Fading Twilight Sword Style was entirely fitting.

But for someone like Lu Yuan, who was so carefree and relentlessly optimistic, mastering a sword style tinged with twilight hues proved exceedingly difficult. Still, if he hadn't mastered it, he hadn't mastered it.

Lu Yuan didn't see it as a major setback. Sword intent was not something to be forced; trying too hard could lead one astray.

If he succeeded, it was his fortune; if not, it was his fate. That was all.

In truth, Lu Yuan's significant achievements up to this point stemmed not only from his exceptional talent in swordsmanship but also from his temperament, which aligned perfectly with the Daoist immortal concept of tranquility and non-action. Being overly concerned or harboring intense utilitarian goals could easily breed inner demons, hindering true cultivation.

Lu Yuan yawned widely while sprawled on the grass. He felt overwhelmingly drowsy—blame the heat as summer approached.

When the weather grew hot, one naturally felt lazy and inclined to sleep around noon. After another sip of wine, the sleepiness intensified.

Suddenly, a sharp gleam of cold light erupted. It was a longsword bearing a faint crimson hue, launching a rapid, direct assault toward Lu Yuan.

A flurry of sword moves was unleashed swiftly, aimed directly at him. Lu Yuan responded with a casual counter-sword strike, which deftly found the flaw in the crimson sword’s attack, momentarily halting the offense.

However, the wielder of the crimson sword seemed to have anticipated this. The sword shifted, immediately unfolding a different path of attack, thrusting forward again.

Lu Yuan didn't even look, countering with another effortless strike that neutralized the incoming blade. The owner of the crimson sword restructured her attack several times, but no matter how often the offensive was reformed, Lu Yuan pierced its weak point with a single casual sword move, shattering the momentum completely.

The owner of the crimson sword finally ceased her assault and stopped. She was a bright-eyed girl dressed in crimson garments, her dark hair carelessly tied in a ponytail, looking exceptionally fresh and spirited.

This was the famous Ling Yuzhu, the third-ranked among the Ten Great True Disciples on the North Peak. For some reason, Ling Yuzhu had been seeking sparring matches with him throughout the past year.

Although she had improved somewhat—advancing her magic to the sixth level of Qi Refining and showing progress in swordsmanship—she remained far from his match. He had recently heard she went out for worldly experience, but she had returned surprisingly quickly.

As soon as Ling Yuzhu was back, Lu Yuan’s rare peace vanished, as she would constantly seek him out for a match. Tragedy, Lu Yuan thought, clutching his aching head.

Ling Yuzhu made a slight motion, and her crimson flying sword, the Jade Crimson Sword, returned to its sheath. The bright and fresh crimson-clad maiden lightly patted her **—clearly, the previous exchange of rapid, constantly shifting sword techniques had tired her.

A fine sweat beaded on her forehead, causing her ** to rise and fall gently. The crimson-clad girl smiled, “As expected, I still cannot defeat you.

Oh yes, I heard you love wine. I brought a flask of Immortal’s Brew from my trip down the mountain.

Here.” She flicked her wrist, producing a wine flask from her sleeve. Her narrow, high-collared crimson shinu dress emphasized her beautiful figure, with a slender waist and delicate shoulders, though the sleeves themselves flared out suddenly.

Immortal’s Brew was one of the Five Great Fine Wines of the Great Jin Kingdom, far more renowned than the Yellow Wine of the Eastern Continent. Lu Yuan instantly became energized and snatched the flask.

As the Immortal’s Brew entered his hand, he noted how wonderfully tactile and solid the flask felt. Truly a fine wine, not just for its taste, but for the exquisite craftsmanship of its vessel.

He couldn't resist immediately uncorking it and taking a long, direct gulp. The wine was exceptionally mellow, its rich fragrance lingering in his mouth after the initial swallow.

Immortal’s Brew, Immortal’s Brew—it certainly lived up to its name.