Foundation Establishment

People often say there are no immortals in this world, but is that truly so? If there are none, have you never heard the saying: “Man seeks to become immortal, immortals follow the Dao, and the Dao follows nature”?

Before us stretches the only world that exists, vast and singular, divided into the nine continents. Upon these lands, sects, kingdoms, and noble clans stand side by side.

And what are these nine continents? The Central Continent, Ning Continent, Azure Continent, Heavenly Star Continent, River Continent, Abundant Continent, Vast Continent, Ancient Sage Continent, and the Monster Child Continent.

Beneath each continent lie various provinces, under each province numerous kingdoms, kingdoms split into counties, and counties into countless cities.

It is in the northern realm, in the Vast Continent, that our story begins, in the state of Qian, one of the five great nations under the jurisdiction of the Grand Unity Province.

In Shuiyun County, within the city of Qingning, lives the Zhao family, a clan of cultivators.

A young master of this family sneezed. It was already eleven o’clock, and he shivered from the cold. For April, such chill ought not to be. Earlier that morning, he and the other youths of his clan had gone to fish and play in the cold river north of the city, hoping to temper their bodies with the frigid spiritual water.

Yet, the physique of a cultivator is unlike that of ordinary people. At eleven, he was already at the third level of Qi Refining; at twelve, his spiritual roots were tested: nine inches of wood, seven inches of fire.

Because of this, after his test, the Zhao family had celebrated with a feast of spiritual wine.

Now, at fifteen, the youth had reached the tenth level of Qi Refining, only a step away from perfection. Once he broke through to Foundation Establishment, he would become a genius cultivator rarely seen in Qingning City for centuries.

So why could he not endure the cold of the river’s mist? The answer lay in the river itself, famed for its icy waters for thousands of miles. The family elders had arranged for him to temper himself in this river that very day.

But at this moment, the youth could hardly care for such details. The chill had seeped into his organs and now churned within his dantian. He had tried ordinary techniques to dispel it, but to no avail.

Helpless, he was forced to circulate the family’s secret Dragon Elephant Technique, striving to seal the spiritual energy within his dantian to resist the cold.

The river north of the city exuded chill year-round; cold, but not frozen. Three or four thousand years ago, rumors abounded that a dragon vein lay beneath its waters. Later, a Golden Core master investigated and declared the river might contain rare treasures, making it a place not to be taken lightly.

It was said that even Nascent Soul and Soul Formation cultivators were drawn here by the rumors. After that, the matter became obscure, and all that was known was the river north of the city remained bitterly cold.

A thousand years prior, the city lord’s estate of Qingning City mobilized soldiers to develop the river, opening it to the public. Its spiritual energy and cold made it ideal for Foundation Establishment cultivators to temper their bodies, thus strengthening Qingning City’s power and ensuring it would not rank last in the decennial tributes to the Great Qian Dynasty. The river became a matter of great importance.

The surging chill struggled within him, barely contained after nearly half an hour, yet still battered his dantian, which was as strong as that of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Gradually, the youth’s complexion eased. Remembering something, he retrieved from his storage ring a Foundation Establishment Pill given by the family elder.

He swallowed it in one gulp. A warm current flowed down his throat, spreading through his meridians, assimilating the oppressive cold. Seizing this opportunity, the youth immediately activated the Mysterious Spirit Technique.

An hour passed. He exhaled a long, turbid breath, and color slowly returned to his cheeks. Night had fallen by then, and he was exhausted in both body and mind. Though sweat and impurities clung to his skin, he was too tired to wash, deciding to wait until morning. He fell into a deep sleep.

A mile away, in a house filled with ancient tomes, an old man with a white beard turned to face the youth’s dwelling. He nodded and smiled gently.

“For the sake of the family’s future, these young ones must endure hardship. I, in my old age, cannot afford to slack either.” With that, he leaned into the lamplight, poring over a pill manual.

The youth’s name was Zhao Jinming.

His given name, Jinming, could also be read as Jinlin, Golden Scale, or Golden Qilin.

Fifteen years ago, when Zhao Jinlin was but an infant, a four-legged beast pattern was visible on his brow.

Born to Zhao Ankang and his wife, he was the eldest son of the main branch’s four families.

On the day of his birth, auspicious omens appeared: a qilin seemed to circle the sun. Zhao Ankang rejoiced, declaring, “My son has the bearing of a qilin; today, let him be named Jinlin.” “Jinlin? Shimmering scales leaping in gold—what a fine name!” The clan elders were delighted, pleased by its similarity in sound to qilin.

A few months later, when Jinlin was half a year old, he was already clever and endearing. His gaze alone seemed to reveal deep contemplation.

The next day, a gray-robed elder known as the Divine Calculator passed through Qingning City. After some divination, he called on the Zhao family, leaving behind words and a congratulatory gift: a spirit-grade Longevity Pill in a jade box. Thereafter, the boy’s name was changed to Zhao Jinming.

After the name change, the Zhao family’s life continued as before, as though nothing had happened.

…

Morning came. Upon waking and washing, Zhao Jinming dressed in clean clothes, choosing not to share the news of his Foundation Establishment breakthrough.

Of course, any Golden Core elder in the family could see through it at a glance. Genius, after all, requires a fine temperament.

The day was clear. Wishing to explore the marketplace and the city, the youth set out early to apply for his Foundation Establishment token.

The clan maintained strict control over movement: direct descendants required the accompaniment of a Foundation Establishment cultivator before leaving the clan, and could only leave the city at mid-Foundation Establishment. No disciple could venture far without a late Foundation Establishment escort. The same restrictions applied to collateral relatives, only lifted once they came of age.

The city he lived in, Qingning City, was among the largest in the region, overseeing more than a dozen towns.

Though the city belonged to the kingdom, its lord was chosen in rotation from the five great families: Zhao, Li, Sun, Xu, and Yang.

Of the thirteen subordinate towns, Zhao controlled four, Li three, and Sun, Xu, and Yang two each—mirroring the families’ relative strengths.

As for Zhao Jinming, he was a cheerful and efficient youth. That morning, he packed his pills and a Foundation Establishment-grade magical artifact, preparing to leave. His mother, seeing this, specially gave him a Fireburst Talisman—a mid-grade second-tier talisman.

Soon, the youth reached the central plaza, where an independent market bustled with activity. Cultivators had spread simple mats on the ground, selling or exchanging pills, weapons, materials, and spiritual beasts—a great variety, often bartered item for item. The authorities did not restrict these transactions, only requiring a small spirit stone tax, after which they would guarantee the deal. This maintained order: any incidents of fraud or unscrupulous trade could be appealed to the city market office.

From above, Qingning City’s main gate faced east. There were four gates in all, and the plaza was vast, bathed in sunlight. Along the way, women and young girls often shielded themselves from the rays with iridescent parasols—a low-grade magical tool to ward off sunburn. The city was populous and prosperous. The lord’s estate lay to the northeast; the Zhao family to the east; Li to the north; Sun and Xu to the west, adjacent to each other; Yang to the southeast. Relations among the families were not perfectly harmonious, a blend of rivalry and cooperation.

Jinming had visited many times, always accompanied by elders and never feeling quite free. This time, he wished to choose his own goods.

He didn’t have much money and had to be frugal, buying only what was truly necessary. Here, currency was spirit stones. Spiritual energy permeated the world, and in special places it could condense into spiritual liquid and spirit stones, which, with time, could become spirit dew, spirit crystals, or even spiritual marrow. If a brass coin could buy a bowl of noodles for a mortal, a single spirit stone could buy nearly five hundred brass coins’ worth.

The youth wore a troubled expression: he had only a little over a thousand spirit stones. When his second granduncle gave him the Foundation Establishment Pill, he’d said it cost eight hundred spirit stones and to use it well.

He understood that the family distributed spirit stones monthly according to cultivation level and contribution: one stone per level of Qi Refining, up to ten for full Qi Refining; twenty for early Foundation Establishment, thirty for mid, fifty for late. At Golden Core, one could be considered truly wealthy.

The youth might not know, but a mortal family of five spent only two spirit stones a month. Yet, cultivation demanded immense resources.

He wandered the cultivators’ market.

Blood Essence Flowers, Bruise-Dissolving Pills, Essence Condensing Pills—he passed them by.

Wolf pelts? Not interested.

Wood Spirit Fruit—this he wanted, for refining Wood Spirit Pills.

“Uncle, I’ll take this one.” The yellow-robed cultivator glanced at the Zhao family insignia.

“Young Master Zhao, sixty spirit stones. I’m giving it to you at a loss.”

“This spirit fruit is of excellent quality; the market price should be nearly a hundred. I won’t take advantage of you—eighty spirit stones.”

He paid and stored the fruit, then browsed neighboring stalls before leaving.

“Old Dong, you’re not usually like this. What wind’s blown your way today to sell at a loss?” asked Aunt Ma beside him.

The yellow-robed cultivator smiled, “To buy so decisively and with such courtesy—you see the Zhao family attire. With such poise and cultivation, he must be a young master of the Zhao family. At such a young age, yet not easy to read his aura, and out alone—this young master must have reached Foundation Establishment!”

Aunt Ma could only sigh in response.