The effect of the pill was incredible.
Langtian could feel it—his body was healing at a pace that defied reason, stitching itself back together with every breath. The medicinal essence surged through his veins like wildfire, flooding into his limbs, muscles, and bones.
Torn meridians pulsed with new life as they began to knit themselves whole. Blocked spiritual pathways opened one by one in a tingling rush. His qi flowed freer than ever before, smooth and powerful, like a river breaking through a dam.
Even the exhaustion in his muscles began to vanish. Bruises faded. His shattered body wasn’t just recovering—it was growing stronger.
"Damn... What kind of pill is this?" he whispered, staring at his trembling hands in disbelief. "High-grade Profound-tier, at least... Since when could Senior Sister refine something ?!"
The more he focused on guiding the energy, the hotter his body became.
At first, it was a comforting warmth.
Then it began to burn.
"Wait... this—this is too much!"
His veins felt like they were filled with molten iron. His breath turned shallow, each inhale ragged. Sweat poured from his skin, soaking his chest and dripping like rain as he struggled to contain the pill’s effect.
Then his heart began to pound.
Until it thundered like it was trying to tear through his ribcage.
A desire. A pulse. A savage, gnawing hunger.
A hunger for destruction.
And with a sudden, feral roar—
Langtian shot upright like an explosion!
His arm lashed out in a blur, slamming into a nearby shelf with such force it shattered, splinters flying like shrapnel.
He spun, snarling like a beast, grabbed the next one, ripped it clean from the wall, and tore it apart like paper.
Wood cracked. Nails screeched. Dust filled the air.
But it wasn’t enough.
The pulsing in his chest was wild, violent—howling inside him like something unchained.
His vision blurred, painted now in furious shades of red and black.
His breath came in sharp, heaving bursts, each one deeper, hungrier, more unstable than the last.
And then his eyes locked onto it: The stone table at the center of the room.
It had to weigh over a hundred jin, solid and thick—but Langtian grabbed it with both hands and hoisted it clean off the ground like it was made of paper.
His muscles bulged, veins straining, red aura flaring around him in violent pulses.
Then he roared and brought it crashing down.
The entire table shattered on impact.
Chunks of stone burst outward, dust exploding into the air like smoke across a battlefield. Splinters of rock flew in every direction, embedding into the floor and walls with sharp cracks.
"Not enough..." he growled, his voice low and trembling, deeper than it had ever been.
His arms shook uncontrollably.
His eyes were wild—bloodshot, bulging, and glowing faintly red with unnatural light.
Thick veins writhed beneath his skin like snakes ready to burst free.
"IT’S STILL NOT FUCKING ENOUGH!!"
"I NEED TO KILL SOMETHING!!!"
He threw his head back, jaw open in a twisted scream. One arm raised high into the air as the energy inside him surged, no longer flowing—now raging. It boiled up from his core, violent and unstoppable, like lava erupting from a volcano.
"AAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!"
A shockwave burst from his body, a raw eruption of qi blasting through the room like an explosion.
Pelts, tools, shelves—everything was torn from its place and hurled through the air.
The stone walls shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling. The hut groaned under the force, as if it might collapse at any second.
His scream echoed like thunder, shaking the ground beneath him.
The door slammed open, the sound sharp and explosive.
Before Langtian could even register it, a figure stormed inside—fast as lightning—and drove a devastating kick straight into his chest.
The blow sent him flying backward.
He crashed into the bed with bone-jarring force, the air knocked clean from his lungs. He gasped, limbs sprawled, head spinning.
But the figure didn’t stop.
In the next instant, they leapt onto the bed behind him, seized him by the shoulders, and with swift, practiced strength, yanked him upright into a meditating position.
Langtian snarled, wild-eyed, instinct overriding thought. He twisted violently, swiping his arm like a claw, trying to tear them apart.
But the stranger caught his arm with a single hand.
He roared, swinging his other fist.
Both arms locked now, his whole body was pinned beneath that person’s unyielding strength.
"Tranquil Heart Breathing. Do it!" the figure commanded.
Langtian howled in agony. The pain was overwhelming. His skull throbbed as if it might split open. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat shaking him apart. Every breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. His lungs burned. His ribs screamed.
Everything was noise and blurred light. The world was a storm of rage and madness and searing heat.
His body wanted only to fight, to tear, to destroy.
"BAI LANGTIAN!!" The voice roared again, louder this time, cutting through the haze like a blade. "TRANQUIL HEART BREATHING! NOW!"
This time, the words pierced the fog of pain and feral instinct.
’Tranquil Heart Breathing...! This will help. I have to do it. I HAVE to!’
Gritting his teeth, Langtian forced his mind to focus through the chaos and agony.
"Still waters flow through my heart... Mountains unmoving, my will is stone..."
He remembered the mental chant, the quiet mantra that every cultivator learned from the very beginning.
Tranquil Heart Breathing was nothing special. Just a simple method, known to all cultivators across the realm.
It calmed the mind, steadied the soul, and warded off inner demons during breakthroughs.
And now—miraculously—it worked.
Bit by bit, the raging fire in his chest began to cool.
His heartbeat slowed. His hands stopped trembling. The hunger faded, leaving only exhaustion. At last, as the storm withdrew, his mind returned to clarity once more.