They did not waste time after that.
The moment the man finished speaking, Lin Mo sat down again—not out of obedience, but because his body had already understood what needed to be done. Shi Yue followed without hesitation, settling beside him with the same quiet certainty. Lin An'an stayed close, her small hands gripping Shi Yue's sleeve, sensing the shift in the air even if she could not understand it.
This time, everything felt different.
Before, when Lin Mo cultivated, his focus had always turned inward—searching, stabilizing, repeating. Now, as he closed his eyes, he did not begin from within. He let his awareness expand outward first, just as the man had said. It wasn't easy. The instinct to retreat inside himself was still there, but he resisted it.
Slow breath.
Steady mind.
No force.
The thread appeared quickly, more stable than ever before. Instead of guiding it immediately through his body, Lin Mo let it stretch outward. At first, it felt like nothing—like reaching into empty space. But then, gradually, something responded.
Faint.
Almost nonexistent.
But there.
The same presence he had touched before.
Qi.
It was everywhere.
Thin. Scattered. Weak.
But real.
Lin Mo didn't grab it this time. He didn't try to pull it in. He simply stayed with it, allowing the connection to deepen. The moment he stopped interfering, the resistance lessened. The thread held steady, extending just far enough to brush against that faint external presence.
And then—
something shifted.
A trace of Qi slipped inward.
Not much.
Barely noticeable.
But it entered.
Lin Mo's breathing tightened for a fraction of a second, but he forced himself to remain calm. The moment he tried to control it, it almost slipped away again. So he adjusted, letting it follow the natural path he had already carved through repeated cycles.
The Qi moved slowly through him.
Different from before.
Colder.
Sharper.
Not entirely his.
But not rejecting him either.
He guided it—not by force, but by familiarity—along the same internal path.
One cycle.
Complete.
The moment it returned to where it began, something inside him reacted.
It wasn't explosive.
It wasn't dramatic.
But it was undeniable.
The faint warmth he had cultivated until now changed.
It became denser.
More defined.
As if something vague had suddenly taken shape.
Lin Mo opened his eyes slightly.
Across from him, Shi Yue inhaled softly, her brows tightening just a fraction.
She had felt it too.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
They continued.
Again.
This time, the process was slightly easier. The connection formed faster. The external Qi responded more readily—not because it had changed, but because they had.
Another trace entered.
Another cycle.
Another change.
Small.
But accumulating.
Time passed without either of them noticing.
The man stood a short distance away, watching in silence. He didn't interrupt. He didn't guide further. His presence remained calm, almost detached, but his eyes stayed on them—observing every shift, every adjustment.
After several cycles, the difference became clearer.
Lin Mo could feel it now.
Not just as a vague sensation.
But as something measurable.
Before, his internal flow had been unstable, thin, barely holding together. Now, with each completed cycle, it thickened slightly. The pathways inside him felt less resistant, less fragile.
The same was happening to Shi Yue.
Their breathing had aligned again, but this time it carried more weight. More presence. The faint stillness around them deepened—not unnatural, not overwhelming—but noticeable.
Even Lin An'an grew quieter, watching them with wide eyes.
Eventually, Lin Mo stopped.
Not because he couldn't continue.
But because something inside him told him to.
He opened his eyes fully and exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
"…It's stabilizing," he said.
Shi Yue nodded, her gaze steady. "…It doesn't break anymore."
That was the difference.
Before, everything they built felt like it could collapse at any moment. Now, even when the flow weakened, it didn't shatter completely. It held.
That meant something.
The man finally stepped forward.
"…You're close," he said.
Lin Mo looked at him.
"…To what?"
The man's gaze remained calm.
"…The First Layer."
Silence followed.
Lin Mo absorbed those words without reacting outwardly, but inside, everything aligned. The cycles. The resistance. The gradual changes.
It all pointed to something concrete now.
Not just growth.
A threshold.
Shi Yue glanced at Lin Mo, then back at the man.
"…What happens when we reach it?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he bent down, picking up another small stone. He held it loosely between his fingers, then flicked it forward.
This time, Lin Mo saw it clearly.
Not just the movement.
But the force behind it.
The stone shot forward with unnatural speed, striking a distant rock with a sharp crack before dropping.
"…Control," the man said.
"…And stability."
He looked back at them.
"…At the First Layer, your Qi will no longer disperse easily. Your body will begin to adapt. Your actions will carry weight."
He paused briefly.
"…But don't overestimate it."
That last part was clear.
This was still the beginning.
—
Lin Mo stood slowly, adjusting his posture.
He didn't feel powerful.
Not yet.
But he felt… grounded.
More than before.
Shi Yue stood beside him, her presence just as steady.
Neither of them looked uncertain anymore.
—
"…We continue," Lin Mo said.
The man studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"…Good."
He turned slightly, glancing toward the direction of the camp.
"…If you can enter the First Layer before night…"
He paused.
"…you might survive what comes next."
—
Lin Mo's expression didn't change.
But his focus sharpened instantly.
Shi Yue's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…What do you mean?" she asked.
The man didn't look back.
"…You'll see."
—
And just like that—
he walked away.
—
Lin Mo didn't call out.
Didn't stop him.
Because now—
that didn't matter.
—
He sat down again.
Immediately.
Shi Yue followed.
No discussion.
No hesitation.
—
They closed their eyes.
Reached outward.
Connected.
Drew in.
Cycled.
Again.
And again.
And again.
—
Because now—
they weren't guessing anymore.
They knew exactly what they were chasing.
—
The First Layer.
—
And they were close.