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Chapter 4: Foundation Establishment
Flux returned to his cave just as the sun dipped behind the trees, casting long golden rays through the canopy. The air grew crisp, laced with the scent of pine needles, moss, and the sharp bite of wet stone. His sapphire-blue eyes flicked to the concealment array etched around the entrance—symbols that shimmered faintly, undisturbed.
"Still safe," he murmured with a quiet breath of relief.
Inside, the chamber welcomed him like a den carved by survival. The glowing stones in the walls cast a gentle light, flickering against shadows. The scent of dried herbs, smoked meat, and worn stone lingered in the air. He sat on his woven mat, the flick of his tails brushing over the cold floor as he pulled off his cloak.
His days resumed their steady rhythm—cultivate, hunt, refine, repeat.
Each morning, he sat cross-legged inside a circle of crude talismans drawn in charcoal and blood, slowly drawing in ambient Qi through his breath and pores. The pressure in his dantian thickened daily, the whirling liquid Qi within tightening into a denser, purer form. His cultivation technique—Stardust Spiral Sutra—channeled Qi through a series of spiraling meridian paths, compressing and refining it with each cycle. It was slow, but stable, like a star forging its core over eons.
He didn't know where the technique came from—only that it surfaced in his mind one day, like a half-remembered dream. Perhaps it was a gift left by his origin. Or a seed buried deep in his soul.
When he wasn't cultivating, he stalked the forest like a shadow—hunting, learning, killing.
The beasts grew fiercer.
One afternoon, he found himself trading blows with a razor-tusked demon boar, its brute strength nearly crushing his ribs as it slammed into him. But with a well-timed dodge and a swipe of Qi-enhanced claws, he severed its tendons and brought it down.
"That's what you get for charging head-on," he huffed, wiping blood from his jaw. "Always look for the legs."
At night, by flickering firelight, he chewed roasted meat while grinding herbs into bitter pastes using a flat stone.
He often talked to himself in those lonely hours.
"Need more fire-type ingredients. This one's too cold-natured. Ugh."
"I really need a pill furnace… would it kill that stingy creature to leave me an alchemy manual?"
He leaned back, arms crossed, scowling at the smoke from his fire. "I'm a literal fragment of a celestial being and I'm over here pounding herbs like some back-alley herbalist."
Still, months passed by, and the routine brought results.
His spirit grew firmer. His Qi brighter, more refined. His senses honed. His body—leaner, stronger, sharper. His once-fragile physique now carried the signs of a real cultivator. Then one dawn, while meditating beneath the roots of a colossal oak, he felt it.
A tremble surged through his meridians. The Qi within him swelled like a tidal wave, crashing against the bottleneck.
He opened his eyes slowly.
"I've reached the 10th level," he whispered. "No more delays."
Foundation Establishment.
A cultivator's first true step into the immortal path. Where the core of spiritual power shifted from misty liquid to crystalline solidity. It was also where the Tribulation Lightning awaited.
"But I'll need to survive the Tribulation," he muttered. "One mistake and zap—extra crispy fox."
He didn't fear pain. But death, sudden and absolute, still lingered like a shadow.
He spent the next several days searching for a secluded place to ascend. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere safe. Somewhere the sky could split and scream without drawing attention.
He crossed icy rivers, climbed rocky ridges, darted past territorial beasts in his fox form. Finally, he found it—a hidden valley blanketed in morning mist, encircled by ancient trees. The air hummed with Qi, quiet and thick like honey.
Flux stood still, ears twitching.
"Good Qi flow. No big beasts. Secluded… perfect."
He spent an entire day carving formations—concealment wards, illusion veils, spirit-suppressing sigils. When finished, the place felt spiritually dead. Unseen. Untouchable.
At the center, he sat cross-legged, bare-chested, tails curled around him like a mantle. His gaze turned skyward.
"Alright," he whispered. "Let's try not to die."
He activated the final formation and inhaled sharply, pulling in Qi like a vacuum. It tore through his meridians like wildfire. His dantian shuddered, the swirling liquid compressing rapidly.
Then—
BOOM.
The sky cracked open.
CRACK!
The first bolt struck him like a hammer of heaven. His back arched as divine electricity lanced through his body, lighting his nerves on fire. His hair smoked. His lips peeled back in a silent scream.
"Ggghaa—!"
The second came moments later.
And the third.
Each bolt tore at him. His skin split, blood sizzled, muscles twitched uncontrollably.
But he endured.
"Not yet—!" he shouted through clenched teeth, eyes blazing. "I haven't even started!"
The fifth bolt punched into his chest, and he collapsed to one knee, coughing blood. But his Qi was circulating. He forced it to flow—through pain, through smoke, through fire.
The sixth bolt came.
And then the seventh—final and most brutal.
It struck like a falling star, engulfing him in a pillar of light.
He screamed.
His bones glowed.
Then—silence.
The clouds began to part. The wind hushed. Leaves settled.
Flux gasped, the scent of ozone thick in his lungs. Slowly, he stood.
His body pulsed with stable, powerful Qi. His hair now gleamed with a faint silver sheen, and behind him, a second white fox tail swayed gently.
"…I did it," he whispered, stunned. "Foundation Establishment…"
Power surged through his limbs—coiled, stable, burning beneath his skin.
"I'm finally a real cultivator."
He looked down at his hands, then clenched them into fists. "Now I can fight back."
Then, he paused.
"Maybe now… I'll remember."
He sat beneath the burned tree at the center of the valley and focused inward. He pulled at the remnants of memory—flashes of stars, a voice echoing in the void, the sensation of falling. But the more he tried, the more pain bled through his skull like knives made of sound.
He clutched his head, groaning.
"No… no, not yet—!"
A sharp pulse in his soul nearly knocked him unconscious. His body trembled. Blood leaked from his nose.
After several long minutes, he stopped trying.
Breathing heavily, he slumped forward.
"…Still too weak," he muttered bitterly. "I'll try again when I'm stronger."
He gazed into the mist and let silence fill him.
But there was one comfort now—his fox traits were under control. With a breath and a whisper of Qi, his tails vanished, folded away into his spiritual sea. His ears flattened, his hair darkened, and in moments he appeared entirely human—tall, sharp-eyed, with a subtle, otherworldly air.
"A proper disguise at last," he said. "Oaktown won't know what hit them."
Returning to his cave, he hunted relentlessly—demon boars, crimson-banded snakes, a frost-furred bear, even a silver-eyed monkey with minor illusions. He stripped their cores, harvested herbs, and tanned pelts.
He organized his spoils with care.
"These are trade goods… these are for crafting…"
He paused over a particularly thick bear pelt. "Warm. Heavy. Waterproof. I'll need this when winter rolls around."
Using vine cord and hide, he fashioned a backpack, stuffed it with supplies, beast cores, dried herbs, and talismans carved from bone and ash.
He crafted a rough robe from beastskins—stitched together in mismatched colors—and layered the massive bear-hide cloak over it.
Before leaving, he looked into the reflecting pool near his cave. His face still looked youthful—foxlike, wild—but his eyes were sharper.
With a thought, his tails vanished again.
Now, he looked like a lone young cultivator—lean, robed in furs, eyes glittering with the strength of Foundation Establishment.
He gave a small nod.
"Let's go."
He followed the trail he'd once marked with claw-rakes, trekking for days through thickening forest.
And then—Oaktown rose ahead, nestled in the roots of the great trees.
Two guards stood at the gate, spears in hand, watching a slow line of travelers pass through: cultivators, traders, farmers, all moving with purpose.
Flux stepped into line—just another figure beneath a bear pelt, dragging a heavy pack.
Flux smiled faintly, his sapphire eyes gleaming.
"Well," he said softly, "it's time I stepped into the cultivation world."