Ancient Sword Hall

Resolve crystalized in his heart like a shard of purest diamond. His path was clear, etched in lines of fire and blood - he would push himself to the very precipice of mortality, break every limit, and force anyone daring to get in his way down to their knees.

Miao Ying sank into a lotus position, his breath falling into the familiar cadence of the Heavenly Cosmic Sword Art as he began to cycle his Qi. 

The air around him trembled as if in anticipation, the world holding its breath as he drew upon the primal forces of sword and thunder.

Time lost all meaning as he submerged himself in the all-consuming pursuit of perfection. 

Minutes bled into hours, hours into days, the outside world fading into an indistinct blur. There was only the Dao, only the rapturous agony of his body being remade in the image of a higher truth.

With agonizing slowness, his Qi seed began to swell in response to his implacable will. The tightly-wound whorl of energy shivered and danced as sword and lightning Qi poured into its depths, drawn from the endless wellspring of the world itself. 

Like a serpent shedding its skin, Miao Ying felt the seed ripening towards apotheosis, straining against the confines of the First Stage as it greedily devoured Qi essence.

All at once, the shell shattered into a million glistening shards, the seed erupting into glorious new life. 

Power seared through Miao Ying's body like a wildfire, scorching his body as it filled him to the very brim. 

The Second Stage of Qi Establishment had been cracked wide open, a whole new realm of possibilities unfolding before him.

Deep within his dantian, a nascent sea of Qi began to form, a roiling expanse of sword-light and crackling lightning. Though it spanned a mere seven meters, Miao Ying knew that it would swell to staggering proportions in the days to come, an ocean of power to be bent to his indomitable will.

As he delved deeper into the intricacies of his cultivation base, Miao Ying could sense the tantalizing potential for a second lightning stream thrumming just beyond his grasp. It hovered at the edges of his perception like a half-remembered dream, a whisper of power waiting to be seized. 

He knew instinctively that unlocking this stream would catapult him to new heights, granting him access to reserves of energy and power beyond anything he had ever known.

But to reach that exalted realm, he would need to push himself beyond all limits. The Third Stage of Qi Establishment was the key, a gateway to a world of might and wonder. 

And yet, Miao Ying knew that relying on the plodding pace of ordinary cultivation would be to condemn himself to mediocrity. His foundation was too vast, too ravenous to be sated by such paltry fare.

No, his was the path of the devourer, the way of consuming everything in his path. To fuel his relentless march towards the true paradise, Miao Ying needed to feast upon the Qi of his enemies, to rip their power from their broken bodies and claim it as his own. Only through glorious combat and ruthless devouring could he hope to advance at the speed his talent demanded.

The mere thought of new challenges, of pitting himself against the mightiest warriors the sect had to offer, sent a thrill of anticipation racing through Miao Ying's veins. His blood sang a siren's song of violence, urging him to leap into finally take that plunge into this cruel world, striking down anyone daring to keep him down.

A calm grin graced Miao Ying's lips as he rose to his feet with the sinuous grace of a predator on the prowl. Each step exuded the regal bearing of a conqueror destined for greatness, his eyes alight with fierce determination.

Lesser disciples scurried out of his way as he strode through the sect grounds, suffocated by the dangerously refined aura that cloaked him like a second skin - sharp and unyielding as a sheathed divine blade.

Even the bravest among them quailed beneath the weight of Miao Ying's impassive gaze, primal instinct screaming at them to flee before this unstoppable force of nature. 

In mere days since his arrival, whispered legends of his exploits had spread like wildfire - of his savage triumph over the Crystal Ice Snake and its Ice Demonic Bear counterpart, of his meteoric ascent to the 2nd Stage of Qi Establishment. Miao Ying had etched his name into the sect's fame in strokes of blood and thunder.

As he walked, Miao Ying's thoughts drifted to his extraordinary Qi Seed, born from the heavenly fusion of Lightning and Sword Qi essence. Even now, he could feel that scintillating core pulsing within his dantian like a miniature star, saturating his body with coruscating power. 

That cracked amulet was truly beyond this world. Something that seemingly shouldn't even be for him. Something that seemed to be meant for those humble birth geniuses who would later rise up to be an unfathomable figure that could overturn the heavens.

Whatever the case may be, Miao Ying was certainly glad that this delectable too ended up in his hand.

Lost in thought, Miao Ying soon found himself standing before the Ancient Sword Hall, a towering edifice of weathered stone and gleaming ebony that pulsed with barely-leashed power. A testament to the Blazing Sun Sect's millennia of history and martial might. 

Though the sect was renowned for its peerless Fire Dao, it still boasted an array of specialized training halls to hone the diverse talents of its disciples.

The Frozen Ice Realm, with its labyrinthine caverns of eternal winter and glacial Qi flows, stood in stark contrast to the roaring fury of the Thunderous Valley, where jagged peaks crowned with writhing lightning pierced the roiling clouds. Each realm a crucible to forge the body and temper the spirit.

For a fleeting moment, the primal allure of the Thunderous Valley beckoned to Miao Ying, the promise of unfettered destruction singing in his blood. 

But it was a siren's call he could never truly heed. 

The way of the sword was carved into his very soul, the core of his being. It was like a magnetic pull flowing him to study more upon the sword.

Unwavering in his resolve, Miao Ying approached the wizened old guardian standing sentinel before the hall, his frail form belying the well of profound power within. Appearances were ever deceiving in the world of cultivation.

Eyes twinkling with hidden depths, the old man greeted him: "Ah, Junior Brother Miao, you honor us with your presence. Your reputation precedes you. Have you come to partake of our humble sword training facilities?"

The weight of recognition settled over Miao Ying, acknowledging his burgeoning legend. But even that heady feeling paled to the primal joy of immersing himself in the Dao of the Sword. His very blood sang with a desire to cross blades, revel in the intricate dance of life and death.

"Indeed, Senior. I trust the sect's resources will prove sufficient for my needs. And I have the merits to pay my way." Miao Ying's reply was calm and self-assured, the easy confidence of one who knew his own worth.

The Blazing Sun Sect prized strength and merit above all. Here, even wealth and background yielded before raw power and talent. Miao Ying admired that single-minded ethos, even as he bent it to his will.

The elder nodded sagely, waving him through. As Miao Ying crossed the shimmering threshold, the world twisted and blurred around him, reality reshaping itself to the Ancient Sword Hall's whims. 

Between one breath and the next, he found himself standing in a barren gray wasteland, the endless expanse broken only by jutting stone spars and desiccated husks of trees.

An oppressive weight pressed down on him from all sides, the very air thrumming with sword intent. Each breath was like inhaling a thousand blades, each movement risked flensing flesh from bone. Every flow of air was dangerously sharp, potent enough to cleave through any Body Refinement cultivator with ease.

Merely walking here was a test, requiring one to slash through the permeating sword pressure. 

Generating sword Qi from a cultivation sword was the optimal method. The degree of sword Qi produced directly correlated with the ease of movement. More importantly, comprehending the profound intricacies of the Sword Dao enabled a purer, more potent manifestation of sword Qi.

For Miao Ying, this was child's play. His eyes sharpened to a hawkish intensity, his aura surging outward like a divine blade unsheathed. 

His Sword Intent lashed out with irresistible might, sundering the oppressive atmosphere with contemptuous ease. The worldly sword pressure, so threatening to lesser cultivators, was little more than a gentle breeze before his superior skill.