Brewing the Body Refining Elixir was more art than science. The Profound Gathering Grass had to be ground into a paste exactly when the sun reached its zenith. The Seven Profound Leaves had to be added in order from youngest to oldest, with precisely twenty-one breaths between each addition. The beast core needed to be crushed by hand — no tools, no implements, only the brewer's own flesh and will.

Yun Che completed each step with the precision of a surgeon. His hands, bloodied from the climb and the eagle's talons, trembled as he crushed the core between his palms. The amber light seeped into his skin, and he felt the raw energy trying to burn through his flesh.

'Not yet,' he said through gritted teeth. 'You're not burning me. You're going to heal me.'

He dropped the crushed core into the bubbling mixture. The cauldron exploded with light.

A column of golden energy shot into the sky, visible for miles. In the Profound Handle fortress, cultivators paused mid-spar, glancing toward the eastern horizon with narrowed eyes. In the Whispering Forest, every Profound Beast within five miles went silent, sensing a power that did not belong in this world.

Yun Che didn't care about being seen. Let them see. Let them come.

He drank the Elixir in a single motion. It tasted like liquid fire and dying stars. It burned through his throat, into his stomach, and then — outward. Through every shattered meridian. Through every broken channel. It was like having his body rebuilt from the inside out, bone by bone, vein by vein, and the pain was exquisite.

He screamed. He couldn't help it. The sound echoed off the granite cliff and scattered through the forest, startling a flock of cranes into flight. For three agonizing minutes, he lay on the ground, spasming, as the Elixir did its work.

And then the pain stopped.

Yun Che opened his eyes and took a breath — a real breath, one that filled his lungs without stabbing pain. He raised his hand. A faint blue glow flickered across his palm. Profound energy. Not much. Barely at the Elementary Profound Realm, the lowest level of cultivation.

But it was his. And it was more than he'd had yesterday.

A slow smile spread across his bloody face. 'Round one,' he said to the distant spires of the Profound Handle. 'My point.'