## Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Widening Abyss
The celebration of Lin Feng and Ling Xia's ascendance reverberated throughout the sect for days, a vibrant hum of praise and anticipation. Their formal investiture as Core Disciples was a grand affair, held in the luminous Great Hall, its polished jade floors reflecting the light from hundreds of glowing spirit lamps. Presiding over the ceremony was the Sect Leader himself, a figure of immense power radiating the serene might of **Golden Core, Stage 8**, whose very presence commanded absolute reverence. He spoke of their dedication, their talent, and the bright future they represented for the sect. New robes, woven with threads of shimmering spiritual silk, adorned Lin Feng and Ling Xia, symbolizing their elevated status, their mastery acknowledged by all.
Privileges previously reserved for only the most senior and influential of Inner Disciples were now bestowed upon them. They were granted access to the sect's inner spiritual peaks, where qi was densest and cultivation pavilions were steeped in centuries of accumulated spiritual energy. Their new residences were no longer simple courtyards, but expansive, secluded compounds nestled closer to the sect's vital ley lines, complete with personal meditation chambers and private training grounds. Access to restricted libraries, holding advanced techniques and ancient knowledge guarded by powerful arrays, was now theirs, along with the right to accept personal disciples, though both chose to defer that responsibility for now. Their names, once merely respected, were now uttered with reverence and awe across all sect disciples, held up as shining examples of diligence and prodigious talent, their portraits already commissioned for the Hall of Heroes.
Lin Feng moved through the ensuing days with the practiced ease of a born leader, accepting accolades with humble nods and thoughtful smiles. To all appearances, he was the brilliant Disciple Lin Feng, **Foundation Establishment, Stage 5**, whose unwavering dedication had propelled him to the core alongside the esteemed Ling Xia, **Foundation Establishment, Stage 6**. He walked beside her, a picture of supportive strength, always allowing her to take the primary spotlight, a subtle deferral that only further cemented his image as selfless and loyal. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, the formidable power of **Golden Core, Stage 1** hummed, a meticulously cultivated secret that gave his every interaction a chilling undertone of calculated foresight. He observed the subtle shifts in sect dynamics, the newfound deference from even long-serving Elders, the eager anticipation from younger disciples who now regarded them as living legends. He was positioned precisely where he wanted to be: at the absolute heart of power, seemingly just a respectful step below the Sect Leader's illustrious daughter, ensuring no immediate suspicions would be cast upon his true capabilities or grander ambitions. Ling Xia, basking in the shared glory and the deepening bond with Lin Feng, seemed utterly oblivious to the vast chasm between his publicly displayed strength and his actual, terrifying power. Her admiration only grew, mistaking his calculated humility for genuine loyalty.
Meanwhile, **Yan Zhen's** reality was a stark and agonizing contrast to the triumphant celebrations of his former friends. While Lin Feng and Ling Xia ascended to their new prestigious roles, Yan Zhen remained shackled to the same grinding existence, his world shrinking with each passing day. The three years of relentless, unyielding torment had taken a heavy toll. He was still miserably trapped at **Spirit Condensation, Stage 1**, his attempts at breakthrough continuously thwarted by the insidious drain of the **ancient soul** within his ring. His once robust physique was now gaunt, his features sharpened by constant fatigue and frustration. His fiery temper, always a part of him, had become a destructive force, flaring uncontrollably at the slightest provocation, isolating him further. It was a vicious cycle: the drain caused volatility, the volatility caused further isolation, which in turn deepened his despair and made his cultivation even more difficult.
The grand ceremony had been a particularly bitter pill for Yan Zhen to swallow. He had stood in the outer fringes of the crowd, a shadowy figure amidst the jubilant throng, watching Lin Feng and Ling Xia bathed in the warm glow of success. A desperate, almost naive hope had still clung to him – a desperate belief that once Lin Feng achieved his goal, things would change. He had tried, after the ceremony, to approach Lin Feng. He waited for hours outside Lin Feng's new, magnificent residence, clutching the familiar iron ring, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
When Lin Feng finally emerged, impeccably robed and radiating an aura of calm authority, his eyes met Yan Zhen's with a practiced flicker of surprise, then profound concern. "Zhen? My old friend!" Lin Feng exclaimed, his voice warm, yet subtly distant. He placed a hand on Yan Zhen's shoulder, a touch that no longer felt comforting, but almost foreign. "I heard of your continued struggles... it truly pains me." He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I have thought long and hard about your unique qi, Zhen. But even with my advancements, I confess, it seems to be a problem beyond my current understanding. It truly is unprecedented."
Lin Feng's words were cloaked in genuine-sounding sympathy, yet they offered no true solace, only a polite, almost dismissive helplessness. He subtly advised Yan Zhen to "seek internal peace" and "rely on sheer perseverance," vague platitudes that were utterly useless to someone facing an internal qi drain. He lamented his newfound Core Disciple duties, explaining how they would consume his time, making personal guidance impossible. "I wish I could help more, Zhen," Lin Feng said, his gaze unwavering, "but my responsibilities now extend to the entire sect. You must find your own path through this tribulation." His voice was gentle, almost regretful, but the unspoken message was clear: Yan Zhen was on his own.
Just then, Ling Xia appeared from within the residence, her spiritual aura bright and commanding. Her eyes, usually soft for Lin Feng, narrowed imperceptibly upon seeing Yan Zhen. Her smile tightened. "Disciple Lin Feng," she stated, her voice cutting through the air like chilled silk, "the Sect Leader is awaiting us for a crucial discussion regarding Inner Court reforms. We must not delay." Her gaze swept over Yan Zhen, lingering for just a fraction too long, a silent, disdainful judgment. Lin Feng offered Yan Zhen a final, regretful look, a brief nod, and then turned to Ling Xia, allowing himself to be led away, leaving Yan Zhen standing alone, his hand still tingling from Lin Feng's fleeting touch, now feeling like a brand of abandonment.
With Lin Feng now firmly ensconced in his Core Disciple duties, and his "sympathy" proven useless, Ling Xia seized the opportunity to tighten the screws on Yan Zhen even further. Her malice, no longer subtle, became a chilling, almost overt force. She directly assigned Yan Zhen to a series of tasks designed not just to humiliate him, but to push his already volatile qi to its absolute breaking point without outright killing him. He was tasked with maintaining the sect's spiritual sanitation arrays, a task typically reserved for the lowest Outer Disciples, requiring him to spend endless hours in stagnant, qi-deprived caverns. He was made to clear vast stretches of thorny spiritual bramble at the sect's desolate northern borders, a duty fraught with danger from minor, yet venomous, spirit beasts. His petitions for proper rest, for better resources, were now met with outright scorn or indifference from the junior Elders who now openly took their cues from Ling Xia.
Yan Zhen embarked on these new torments, his despair deepening with each grueling day. His physical state deteriorated further under the combined strain of the draining soul and the relentless labor. His qi, completely uncontrollable at times, would surge erratically, causing him to accidentally damage sect property or injure himself during his assignments. These incidents only served to confirm the sect's perception of his instability, leading to harsher punishments and even more degrading duties. Other disciples, once simply avoiding him, now openly mocked his failures, their laughter echoing in the empty training grounds where he was forced to practice alone.
Yet, deep within the churning chaos of his qi and the bitterness of his spirit, a desperate resolve began to take root. Yan Zhen was a fighter, a survivor. His body screamed in protest, his qi rebelled, but his will, though battered, refused to break. He clung to the raw, visceral desire for power, for control. He recognized, through his suffering, that his external circumstances were symptoms of an internal malaise. He had to find a way to conquer his own qi, no matter the cost, even if it meant abandoning conventional cultivation methods. His trust in Lin Feng, once absolute, now frayed into a fragile, desperate delusion, a ghost of hope he dared not let go of entirely, for fear of falling into utter madness.
From the opulent confines of his new Core Disciple residence, Lin Feng observed Yan Zhen's continued decline with cold, calculating satisfaction. His network of discreet informants within the sect kept him abreast of Yan Zhen's deepening misery, the spiraling failures, the increasing isolation. He could subtly sense the ancient soul within Yan Zhen's ring, a faint, growing resonance, a quiet hum that spoke of its steady consumption. Three more years, he mused, leaning back in his luxurious meditation chair, three more years of this misery, and the soul would be ready for extraction, a potent tool for his own advancement. Yan Zhen was a slow-burn sacrifice, his suffering meticulously managed to serve Lin Feng's ultimate goal. Lin Feng's focus then shifted to consolidating his power as a Core Disciple, managing his public relationship with Ling Xia – a crucial pawn in his grand scheme – and subtly gathering information on other rising sect talents. He also began discreetly researching ancient soul-transfer techniques, preparing for the day when Yan Zhen would finally break, and his true value would be revealed.
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