Chapter 12: Burdened Cultivation

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Before dawn the next morning, four furtive figures had already gathered outside Bai Chenxiang’s room. Elder Bai Shan led the group; the other three elders carried various items—a plush cushion with thick padding, a bowl of dark green soup emitting a strong medicinal aroma, and a small food box containing carefully prepared minced soul beast meat.

“Keep your voices down. Don’t wake Xiangxiang,” Bai Shan whispered, sounding like a thief sneaking about.

“Do you think Xiangxiang will be able to stand today? Seeing her carry seventy jin is enough to make me tremble,” the short, stout elder fretted.

“Why don’t we secretly remove half of those Star-Sinking iron pieces from the belt?” another suggested.

“Nonsense!” Bai Shan’s eyes flashed. “This is the path Xiangxiang chose herself. If we interfere, wouldn’t that be an insult to her?”

“All we can do is make sure that when she falls, she falls softly; when she’s hungry, she eats well.”

Just as he spoke and reached to open the door, it creaked open from the inside.

The four elders froze like cats caught stepping on a tail.

Behind the door, Bai Chenxiang was already dressed and ready. The black weighted equipment stood out starkly against her slender frame. Her complexion was still pale, but her eyes shone with unusual brightness.

She looked at the four elders, who bore dark circles beneath their eyes and stood like guardian statues blocking the way, along with the assorted tokens of their care. A rare expression of wry amusement flickered across her face.

“Good morning, esteemed elders.”

“Ah… good morning, good morning!” Bai Shan recovered quickly, hastily hiding the cushion behind his back and forcing a laugh. “We were just passing by, yes, passing by, and thought we’d take in the sunrise.”

The others nodded stiffly, awkwardly trying to conceal their offerings.

Bai Chenxiang’s gaze fell on the bowl of dark green soup. A bitter, fishy smell wafted over, causing her nose to wrinkle.

“Bone-Tempering Soup?”

She recognized this potion from the records of the Minzhi clan—a notoriously potent body-refining elixir.

This brew was so fierce that usually only soul reverers dared take a small sip under perfect preparation when breaking through a bottleneck.

But this bowl was enough to make a soul ancestor convulse.

The elder holding the soup chuckled slyly like a charlatan peddling a miracle cure.

“Good eye, Xiangxiang! This is a treasure I’ve been hoarding for thirty years—highly nourishing!”

“Drink it while it’s hot. I guarantee you’ll be full of vigor today, even able to run with that iron weight on your back!”

Bai Chenxiang twitched the corner of her eye.

If she drank that, today would not be training—it would be a one-way trip to the ancestral hall to select the next prodigy.

She declined the poisonous gift and instead bowed sincerely to the four elders who had barely slept, their concern for her written plainly on their weary faces.

“Thank you, honored elders. But the Bone-Tempering Soup is too soon for me. My body can’t handle it yet.”

“I will eat the soul beast meat mash, but not now. Before training, I must stay empty to keep my body at its most alert.”

Her tone was calm but carried an unassailable logic.

The four elders exchanged glances, feeling their enthusiasm doused by a cold bucket named professionalism.

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At some point, Bai He appeared behind them. Seeing his brothers’ crestfallen faces, a smirk of schadenfreude tugged at his lips as he cleared his throat.

“All right, you old geezers, stop making a fuss. Acting like babies who haven’t been weaned—Xiangxiang’s training follows her own rules.”

He stepped forward, brusquely shoving the four aside, then handed a water pouch to Bai Chenxiang.

“Warm water, a pinch of salt. Sip it sparingly.”

“Thanks,” Bai Chenxiang accepted the pouch and hung it at her waist.

The grandfather and granddaughter exchanged a glance, everything understood without words.

Without further comment, Bai Chenxiang turned and lifted her heavy steps, firm and resolute, toward the back mountain.

Each footprint she left was clear on the bluestone path.

The four elders watched her small but stubborn figure, then looked at the useless treasures in their hands, their hearts a tangle of emotions.

“Big brother, we…” Bai Shan was reluctant.

“You?” Bai He shot him a sharp look. “Your task today is to watch from afar. No one is allowed to get close or make a sound.”

“If anyone dares to use soul power to cheat and help her, don’t blame this old bone for turning against you.”

His voice was sterner than ever.

This training was not only a test of Bai Chenxiang’s body but a trial of her will.

Any external assistance would be a desecration of her resolve.

At the back mountain, the Thousand Mechanisms Array.

When Bai Chenxiang stood once again before the familiar chaotic forest of stones, everything felt different.

Before, the wind was a friend, a companion, gently brushing her body, conveying messages.

Now, the wind seemed an enemy.

The seventy jin weight dulled every movement.

What used to be easily avoided wind resistance felt like sticky glue, holding her firmly in place.

She did not rush into the array but began with the most basic motions around its perimeter—walking.

From struggling with each step to gradually finding balance.

Sweat dripped from her chin, hitting the ground and quickly evaporating.

Her legs felt as if filled with iron, each lift and fall accompanied by deep muscle aches and tearing pains.

The elders watching from afar held their breath.

“She can barely move! Forget breaking through the array—just walking a few steps is such a struggle!”

“Chief, should we call it off today? Let her adapt for a few days first?”

Bai He said nothing, only clenching his fists silently.

Within the array, Bai Chenxiang seemed deaf to their thoughts.

She didn’t focus on the complex traps or how to dodge them.

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Her mind held only one thing—to resist gravity.

She began to feel how the seventy jin pressed on her spine, tore at her joints, made every breath heavy.

She did not fight with sheer will but started to yield.

When her left foot stepped forward, she no longer forcibly lifted it but leaned her center of gravity slightly forward, using the downward pull so her right foot was naturally and passively dragged from the ground.

When inertia threatened to topple her forward, she smoothly placed the other foot down to catch her balance.

One step, two steps…

Her movements, once stiff and awkward, slowly gained a strange rhythm.

It was no longer walking but a series of precise, controlled weight shifts.

Each step calculated—not too much force, not too little.

Slow, like a tottering toddler or a frail old man.

Yet every step was as steady as a rock.

Unconsciously, the entire morning passed.

She didn’t drink a drop of water, nor rest for a second.

She simply walked repeatedly on that empty ground.

Sweat soaked her clothes, clinging tightly, outlining her slender but astonishingly resilient form.

Her lips cracked dry, her face pale as paper.

Yet her eyes grew brighter.

For she realized that as her body adapted to the burden, her soul power began to circulate at an unprecedented speed.

The bottleneck, stagnant at the peak of level nine for so long, seemed to be cracking under this immense external pressure.

At that moment, the ever-silent Bai He finally spoke.

His voice, carried by soul power, reached Bai Chenxiang’s ears clearly.

“Xiangxiang, look up.”

Bai Chenxiang struggled to lift her head and, following her grandfather’s direction, gazed at the sky.

A black, pointed-tailed swift circled overhead—Bai He’s martial soul.

Suddenly, without warning, the swift dove sharply like a black lightning bolt straight toward her face!

The sudden attack made the watching elders cry out in alarm.

“Big brother, you’re crazy!”

Bai Chenxiang’s pupils contracted sharply.