After the lecture was over, Ning couldn't wait to return and digest all the insights he had gained. While the elder did not explain much, the points were concise with many dos and don'ts.

  But all that had to wait for a while, because today was the first true gathering of the Mutual Aid Association.

  The group quickly found themselves in a tea house, the closest thing this world had to a café. The place smelled faintly of roasted tea leaves and sandalwood, with waiters gliding about in robes that looked one step short of ceremonial attire.

  'I miss hoodies,' Ning thought.

  The clothes here were… cumbersome. Robes looked elegant until you had to sit, stand, or bend. Then you realized sleeves were traps, getting caught in everything.

  Wei, naturally, took the lead, ushering everyone to a long table by the window. He clapped his hands together. "Since today is our first proper meeting, let's make it official with introductions!"

  Ning gave him a sideways look. This was sounding more and more like the corporate icebreakers back on Earth- minus the doughnuts. He missed doughnuts.

  One by one, people went around, giving the basic introduction.

  First, Wei Zhusang, Zhang Feng, and Lang Rulang introduced themselves. From the glances around the table, it was clear most already knew who they were.

  Then came Su Fan. He simply snorted, his posture as arrogant as ever. "Su Fan. Hmph!"

  That was it. A name and a disdainful snort.

  This attitude, of course, infuriated quite a few; after all, not everyone is as chill or worldly as Ning.

  "This-"

  But Wei smoothly cut in. "Brother Su Fan is a man of few words. He works in the Alchemy Hall." A pause, then, with some deliberation: "His sister is a core disciple."

  That settled things.

  Ning raised his brow at the new info.

  As far as he knew, disciples were also differentiated into a few ranks. Peripheral disciples, outer disciples, inner disciples, and core disciples.

  Inner disciples had the possibility of building a foundation. Core disciple had the possibility for Purple Mansion.

  As for outer and peripheral disciples, they were just equivalent to workers. Working as horses and mules for the comfort of the upper level.

  Of course, there were murmurs, and then glances of envy and awe which Su Fan ate up, his nose ever the taller.

  'At least, his pillar for arrogance is thick enough.' Ning also couldn't help but envy Su Fan's condition. With such a background, his journey would certainly be smoother than most.

  A few newer members went next.

  A skinny youth spoke nervously. "L-Liu Yuan. I'm a junior clerk in the Records Office. If you ever need something copied or checked… I can help."

  Another, broad-shouldered but quiet, added, "Chen Mu. Beast Taming Hall. I'm still just feeding spirit chickens, but… I'll improve."

  And a girl with quick eyes chimed in last, "Qiao Mei. Spirit Clothing Hall. I am still working on combing the silk."

  As the voices circled the table, Ning also introduced himself simply, "Ji Ning. I work in the spiritual fields."

  As the round of introduction went around, Ning noticed most were from humble backgrounds, but had diverse professions.

  He held back from glancing at the Wei Trio meaningfully. After all, this was already a preliminary sign of building one's own faction.

  Still, his attention was quickly drawn to something more important.

  "Brother Wei, what did the elder mean by great change?" Qiao Mei asked softly, her glance at Wei a bit too friendly.

  Ning almost couldn't help but give a thumbs up to the girl; she asked a great question indeed. At least, it saves him the trouble of looking too curious.

  Wei, Zhang, and Lang exchanged brief nods.

  Wei spoke first, his tone steady. "The great change concerns our chance at Foundation Establishment. It's tied to both this batch of disciples and the one before us."

  Zhang Feng leaned forward, a grin tugging his lips. "Basically, all these incentives, resources, lectures, leniency, are to push us to reach Great Perfection in Qi Cultivation faster. With mediocre roots, getting there is easy. Breaking through isn't. That's the wall."

  "Ugly wall, too," he added, which drew a few chuckles.

  Wei nodded, serious again. "In five years, there will be a sect-wide competition. If you rank high enough, you can become an inner disciple directly, even without late-stage Qi Cultivation. It will smoothen the path for Foundation Establishment."

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  Lang Rulang finally spoke, her voice cool and sharp, cutting through the chatter. "So practice hard. Otherwise, you'll be left behind."

  The table grew quiet at that.

  Ning narrowed his eyes slightly. Not at the warning, but at what it implied: the sect wasn't just being generous. It was being prepared. For what, exactly, he'd have to wait and see.

  ...

  After returning to his humble abode, the first thing Ning did was pull out his notes.

  He had noticed during the lecture that many disciples hadn't bothered with them. But as someone who'd gone through compulsory education, he knew the truth: you might think you "got it" in class, but the moment you stepped out, half of it slipped away. Notes were lifelines.

  Flipping to the meridian diagrams, he began to follow the instructions.

  If he was being honest, Ning was still wrapping his head around the fact that the human body here wasn't the same as back on Earth. Spiritual roots, dantians, meridians… they weren't metaphors or flowery diagrams. They were real.

  Luckily, the original Ji Ning had studied enough that he wasn't fumbling blind.

  Calming his thoughts, he straightened his posture, placed his palms over his knees, and drew in a slow breath. Qi gathered faintly in his chest before he nudged it forward, guiding it toward the heart meridian.

  At first, it was like forcing water into a clogged hose. The qi bunched up, sluggish and uncooperative, threatening to scatter at any moment.

  Elder Liu had advised them to visualize the flow for smoother circulation. Easier said than done. Until one reached higher realms and could use inner vision, it all stayed vague and abstract.

  "Alas," Ning muttered inwardly, "if only I could borrow a book or two."

  Unfortunately, peripheral sect disciples weren't allowed access to the Pavilion's miscellaneous texts. Rules, restrictions, and another motivation to progress.

  So, he settled for what he had. He imagined a steady stream of water, trickling smoothly through invisible channels.

  With his otherworldly knowledge, it wasn't exactly hard. Gradually, he found his rhythm.

  Warmth spread along a pathway he hadn't known existed, running from under his armpit down the inside of his arm, sparking at certain points like hidden switches. Laogong, Shaohai, and Shaochong, the names from his notes, matched perfectly with what he was feeling. Heat in the palm. A dull throb at the elbow. A faint tingle at the tip of his little finger.

  It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either. More like the pins-and-needles rush when blood returned to a limb that had fallen asleep.

  The second circuit was easier. By the third, he noticed small blockages, places where the qi snagged like cloth caught on thorns. He eased it through with care, remembering Elder Liu's warning: never force it. A torn meridian was about as fatal as clogging your arteries. Magical or not, it required great care.

  By the time he completed a full cycle, the qi looped back into his chest lighter, smoother, and more refined than before. An hour slipped by unnoticed until he finally exhaled, releasing a faint stream of turbid breath.

  [1st stage Qi Condensation:2 → 3]

  "Noice. Those insights really are useful," Ning mentally fist-bumped. Progress achieved.

  But his triumph was short-lived. His thoughts drifted back to the association's talk of the "great change."

  He had confidence in reaching Foundation Establishment; his talent was decent, good enough to give him that much. Purple mansion would be a stretch, but with a bit of luck, it was not impossible.

  But beyond that? Without opportunity, he'd hit a ceiling. Especially, with the huge amount of time every step took, it would cut his chances of reaching the next stage slowly but surely.

  But now there was an opportunity.

  If Xiao Fan truly was the chosen one, as every cliché screamed, then maybe the smartest move wasn't to slow down, but to ride the dragon's tail. For that, though, he'd need to grow stronger. Much stronger.

  Ning leaned back with a sigh.

  "If you don't progress, you regress," he muttered. "Looks like it's time to change the plan."

  ...

  Thanks for reading~