After the battle and my stealing a Sky Grade Technique, life returned to normal. I finally had time for myself again, having distanced myself from Sect politics.

Now, one of my biggest concerns was whether I should set up a spring array around the library pagoda as well. I hadn’t realized how beautiful it looked, grass and flowers blooming in a sea of snow. It gave off a quiet, cozy feeling.

The white winter clouds drifted above, shedding a gentle dusting of snow. Against the vibrant greenery, the scene felt like something out of a painting.

I sat in one of the rocking chairs on my front porch, with Fu Yating beside me, humming some folklore tune. Wu Yan sat atop Speedy's shell, meditating with the poise of a monk. As for Batsy, she was rummaging around inside the wooden house, probably up to no good.

A week had passed since the battle. Aside from the impromptu trial Song San was facing, there hadn’t been anything major. Though people were still talking about the Blazing Sun Immortal. From what I’d heard, most of them hadn’t really focused on what he said, just on his power, his heroics, how he’d saved the Sect.

Wouldn’t surprise me if Zun Gon had dipped his toes into some good old-fashioned propaganda, probably in collaboration with the Sect’s secret guard and assassination team that typically operated behind the scenes for the Sect Leader. But since he was the de facto leader for now, he might have some privileges with them.

Of course, none of that had anything to do with me. So, I didn’t bother learning more than the bare basics, which were usually summarized by Song Song whenever she wanted my opinion on some issues.

Also, no one had come to bother me about a Sky Grade Technique being stolen. Nobody seemed to have noticed. At least… not yet.

That was why I’d held off on giving the technique to Song Song right away. It was so easy. I had to stop myself from going back and stealing a few more.

No. No, I shouldn’t let greed cloud my judgment.

I needed to master Voidstep Phantom Movement Art first before moving on to new things. There was so much depth to the technique, and I hadn’t even scratched the surface.

With that in mind, I carefully began controlling my Qi, doing my best to avoid overusing it. The space around my right arm started to twist; it looked like delicate tendrils of darkness extending outward as if reaching for something.

When the twisting space started affecting my arm directly, I immediately triggered my Foundation Technique. Everything slowed, and I started analyzing the pressure. Then I began to focus more Qi on certain parts of the technique, so that the suction force from the other space tendrils would drag this one to move away.

With space manipulation, pulling my arm back from the pain might’ve been the worst move; it could’ve just torn my arm off. Space wasn’t something that could be overpowered by brute force.

If I didn’t have Time De-Accel, I wouldn’t have dared play around with spatial distortion at all. I’d have just used the technique in the basic way it was made for, as a method of teleportation, and left it at that.

Ironically, after space techniques, mental techniques were the most dangerous. But as long as I made sure my soul was intact and didn’t go too hard, most mental damage was recoverable, thanks to a cultivator’s tough body. But if I messed up with space?

A nosebleed would be the least of my worries.

If things went wrong, the best-case scenario would be losing a hand. Worst case? A limb. Or something you couldn't grow back.

I continued to spread my Qi and experiment, extending the spatial tendrils around the armrests of the chair. The twists in space became more visible now, the cracks widened, forming what looked like tendrils of pure darkness. They shimmered with an almost mirage-like distortion as they moved through the wood, leaving clean slices behind… but no sound.

No sound. That was the strangest part. Destruction without a whisper.

It was hard to believe Song Song had taken an attack like this head-on and survived.

Despite the danger, I loved practicing with this element. It was just so interesting. I only practiced it when I was at my best, well-rested, mentally sharp, and in the morning, when my focus was clearest.

My goal was to create a barrier using spatial cracks themselves, something woven from intersecting slits in reality. If successful, it could theoretically become an unbreakable shield.

The problem?

I didn’t have enough Qi to hold it for more than a second.

I stopped using the technique. Some of the tendrils withdrew under my control. Others? Reality itself pulled them back, trying to stitch the tears shut.

If I ever let my reserves fall too low, I’d be useless in a real emergency. So I had a hard rule: stop at forty percent. Thirty, at the worst.

Still, space-based techniques were insanely Qi-hungry. Even at basic levels, they were hard to train with.

If I played it safe, I could practice ten minutes a day.

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As expected, with a window like that, progress was slow.

I sighed, shifting my focus back to reality, and turned to Fu Yating, ready to make some light conversation to shake off the grim post-training fog.

But she was already staring straight at me.

“What was that?” she asked. “I thought my eyes were tired, but the air around you was warping. Things were shifting weirdly. Are you practicing potentially dangerous techniques in the house?”

“What?” I blinked, instantly scrambling for a way to gaslight her. “Do you think I’d do something like that? Here? In my own home?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.

“Any techniques I practice here are not dangerous,” I replied firmly.

“Can the technique you’re using end up killing you?” she asked.

…Damn.

This woman had the all-seeing eyes when it came to toxic behavior. You couldn’t even gaslight her. It was like trying to beat Tom Brady at football.

“Not really,” I grumbled. “Even if the worst happens, I’ve always got enough Qi to pull myself out. Worst case? I get maimed, and lose an arm or a leg.”

Fu Yating frowned. “Do you have to practice that technique?”

“Of course,” I said, leaving no room for discussion.

“Well, perhaps you should practice it somewhere safer, and not here where your dumb bat might interrupt," she suggested. “Maybe have Song Song around while you train. She could pull you out or protect you if something happened.”

I stared at her with a blank look, and she frowned back at me, clearly confused by my reaction.

“What?” she asked.

“Think about what you just said,” I guided her. “You want Song Song to make sure I don’t do anything reckless.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Think about it a bit more,” I prompted. “That’s like asking a starving person to guard the food.”

“Oh… right. Song Song is just as reckless as you, probably even more so,” she murmured, finally understanding.

I liked Song Song. Trusted her more than anyone else in the world. But she was a bit overbearing, and when we were together, our recklessness bounced back and forth like a game of chicken, except no one ever swerved. I’d probably end up trying something truly dangerous. Probably on her.

Not saying we wouldn’t make a ton of progress. But she’d definitely volunteer as a practice target. She’d indulge me.

“Well, you might not be worried about losing a limb, but I am,” Fu Yating said firmly.

“How could a space technique I’m using affect you?” I asked, a teasing smirk forming on my lips.

“Why couldn’t it?” she shot back.

“Space is kind of like a fourth dimension. If someone were made of it, they could slice you open and stare at your brain and guts, and you wouldn’t even feel it.” I explained.

Of course, that was just theoretical. To make space manipulation usable, I had to compress it into a three-dimensional framework. That’s what made it dangerous for me.

“Then how would you get hurt by something like that?” she asked.

“Because I’m the one messing with it. I’m the one using my Qi and body to try and control something that shouldn’t be controlled,” I said. “Also… look at this trick.”

I pointed my hand toward her and clawed at the air.

I felt something tug back, like fabric wrapped around my fingers. I was reaching out for the space between us, pulling it in.

There was no rift, no tearing of space. Nothing dangerous.

But Fu Yating’s body jerked forward. Her chair slid closer to mine.

Her eyes widened. Her brows shot up. But in the next instant, I let go, and the space snapped back to its original distance.

Even after she returned to her original spot, she just stared at me, her mouth open but no words coming out.

Then, slowly, she gathered herself, smoothed out her expression, and narrowed her eyes at me.

“How in the heavens did someone like you come from the same region as me?” Fu Yating sighed, rubbing the crease between her brows. “You talk about this like it's the most normal thing in the world, but you're twisting reality in ways I can't even process, and I was staring right at it.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

I smiled her way and leaned back in the rocking chair. There were a few other tricks I could show her that might really mess with her head, but I was too low on Qi to pull them off properly.

“You’re probably the best genius the Liu Clan has ever made or the biggest idiot they created,” Fu Yating said.

“Ouch,” I replied, amused.

“There’s really no in-between with you when it comes to these things. It’s either one extreme… or sometimes even both extremes at the same time,” she groaned. “The more I get to know you, and just when I think I’m at the cusp of understanding someone like you, you go and do something strange again.”

“Hey, people are complicated. I have no idea what’s going on in your head either,” I shrugged. “But that doesn’t stop me from enjoying our time. I like knowing what people are thinking, sure, but it’s not a requirement.”

I glanced at the morning sun, mentally calculating the time. I’d already won the argument, and I wasn’t about to stick around long enough for her to think up a comeback.

“Anyway, time to feed the big guy,” I said, standing and walking over to Speedy, who was napping. His eyes opened as I approached.

I dropped a hunk of monstrous beast meat beside him. The pile was bigger than Speedy, but part of it was meant for Batsy too.

“This is some prime Core Formation beast meat. It’s from that wolf-type beast with the weird shield technique, so it should be good for you,” I said.

Speedy grunted and rose to his feet, with Wu Yan still meditating atop his shell. She didn’t budge, like a statue, utterly unfazed by the movement.

He started tearing into the meat, taking massive mouthfuls and swallowing like a shonen protagonist devouring something clearly too big for his stomach to handle.

I opened my mouth, about to tell him to slow down, but then I felt it.

A gentle ripple of Qi.

It came from Wu Yan.

I froze.

Wait… what? Now?

A mix of nervousness and joy stirred in my chest.

Just like that, Wu Yan began her breakthrough and took the last leap.