Three days after excavating the temporal scar's treasures, Zǔ Zhòu stood at Body Tempering Fourth Stage (Peak), examining crystallized resources that defied conventional understanding.
"Inventory complete," his anchor servant reported. "Seventeen temporal crystals containing techniques, thirty-three paradox pills, seven corrupted beast cores, and... whatever that is."
'That' was a sphere of condensed demonic qi so pure it had achieved partial consciousness, whispering obscenities in languages that wouldn't exist for centuries.
"Concentrated hatred," Zǔ Zhòu identified. "A cultivator's dying curse caught in temporal loop, fermented for a thousand years. Excellent breakthrough catalyst."
He'd spent days studying the extracted resources. Each crystal required careful analysis—too hasty absorption risked paradox contamination. But patterns emerged, revealing something profound.
"These aren't random accumulations," he explained, arranging crystals by temporal signature. "Look at the dates. All from a specific three-year period, approximately one thousand years ago."
The servant studied the pattern. "They're connected?"
"More than connected. These cultivators were gathering here intentionally. The altar wasn't a coincidence—someone discovered the temporal scar and built a demonic sect around it."
He pulled out the clearest crystal, containing the frozen Blood River manual. "This references 'the Master's cache.' Someone established a repository before the sect's destruction."
The implications were significant. Previous cultivators had recognized the scar's value, used it systematically. They'd likely hidden resources specifically for temporal preservation.
"We need to search deeper. Not just in the scar but around it. If they built one altar, there might be storage chambers."
The next excavation went beyond the scar chamber. Using knowledge from absorbed manuals, Zǔ Zhòu traced formation lines carved subtly into stone. Ancient work, hidden beneath centuries of dust.
"Here," he said, pressing specific points.
A section of wall ground open, revealing a passage that reeked of preserved death. The servant gagged, but Zǔ Zhòu inhaled deeply.
"Beautiful. Demonic miasma aged like wine."
The passage led to a structured chamber—clearly artificial, built to specific proportions. Shelves lined the walls, though many had collapsed. But several sealed containers remained intact, preserved by formations that still flickered weakly.
"The sect's emergency cache," Zǔ Zhòu realized. "Hidden near the scar for temporal stability."
The first container held pills—Blood Essence Condensing Pills, Meridian Corruption Pills, Soul Devouring Pills. Basic by his standards but perfectly preserved. The temporal proximity had prevented decay.
The second contained cultivation manuals. Not frozen in crystal but written on specially treated skin that resisted time. The techniques were crude but fascinating—early attempts to harness temporal paradox for cultivation.
"'Chrono-Phage Method,'" he read. "'Devour your own future cultivation to empower present.' Primitive but conceptually sound. They were learning to exploit the scar."
But the third container held the true treasure.
A complete demonic cultivation manual, bound in what appeared to be solidified screams. The cover bore a title that made reality shudder: "Temporal Demon Transformation Scripture."
"They didn't just discover the scar," Zǔ Zhòu breathed. "They reverse-engineered it. Created cultivation methods based on paradox itself."
The manual detailed a complete path from Body Tempering to Core Formation, each realm incorporating temporal distortion. It was inferior to his knowledge but perfectly suited to this reality's laws. More importantly, it provided ideal cover.
"I can claim to have found this during recovery meditation," he planned. "Ancient manual explains unusual advancement. Family will be suspicious but unable to disprove."
The final pages contained something unexpected—a map. Not of physical locations but temporal ones. Other scars in the region, marked with detailed notes.
"Twelve minor scars within a thousand li," he counted. "They found my wounds and built an entire demonic network around them."
Most locations were marked as depleted or destroyed. But three showed promise:
The Whispering Cave (30 li east): "Echoes speak future-past truths"The Bent Tree (70 li southeast): "Growth without time, death without ending"Merchant's Folly (150 li south): "Gold becomes lead, lead becomes souls"
"The pilgrimage route reveals itself," he said. "Not random wandering but following ancient demon paths between temporal wounds."
More searching revealed cultivation resources specifically for breakthrough. Qi Condensing Pills that incorporated temporal energy, formations for stabilizing paradox-influenced advancement, even detailed notes on avoiding common failures.
"'Warning: Breakthrough near scar causes temporal soul fracture,'" he read. "'Conduct one li minimum from distortion zone.'"
Valuable advice from cultivators who'd learned through fatal trial and error.
As they prepared to leave, laden with resources, Zǔ Zhòu made careful calculations. Body Tempering Sixth Stage (Peak) was stable, but advancing too quickly would draw unwanted attention. The accumulated resources would fuel months of steady cultivation.
"These will sustain years of advancement," he decided. "One minor stage every few months, appearing as talented but not impossible progress."
"And the breakthrough?" his servant asked.
"Qi Condensation? Years away, as it should be. Perhaps by age twenty-one—impressive but believable for someone who found an ancient manual." He smiled. "Patience builds stronger foundations."
Reality did seem to thrum with long-term anticipation. The watchers understood narrative structure—this was just the beginning of a much longer journey.
"Prepare secure storage," he ordered. "Distribute resources carefully. Make it appear I'm slowly studying the manual rather than instantly comprehending it."
The servant bowed and departed. Alone, Zǔ Zhòu held the Temporal Demon Transformation Scripture, amused by its primitive but effective methods.
"Even in reduced circumstances, I inspire demonic innovation," he mused. "Cultivators found my wounds and built power systems around them. Inadvertent students of my accidental teaching."
He made careful notes, planning the gradual progression. Each minor advancement would appear hard-won. Show appropriate struggle, demonstrate steady growth. Build a foundation that would satisfy family expectations while hiding true potential.
"Body Tempering far from complete," he said to the watching void. "Comprehension lock understood. Meta-textual nature discovered. Resources acquired. Time for patient cultivation to begin."
The temporal scar pulsed farewell as he left, its chamber now revealed as entrance to ancient demonic legacy. One exploration had unveiled enough resources for years of careful advancement.
Tomorrow, Liu Wei would continue his 'recovery' from deviation, showing minor improvements. But over the coming years, Zǔ Zhòu would carefully build power from his own temporal wounds, advancing steadily toward his goals.
"One stage at a time," he promised himself. "Years to Qi Condensation, decades to Core Formation. But each realm pushed beyond mortal imagination."
The anchor servant returned. "Everything stored as specified."
"Excellent. Tomorrow we return to normal training. Show minor improvement from studying the manual. Express excitement about 'ancient insights.'" He paused. "And have Hong note my dedication. Building reputation for steady progress."
The first arc had only just begun. Twenty chapters of establishment, sixty more to go before true breakthrough.
Patience was bitter medicine, but necessary.
And Zǔ Zhòu had eternity to enjoy the vintage of revenge served slowly.