Sidekick Fights Back (Married The Protagonist’s Mother)

Unspoken Sacrifices

Instead of Sanctuary of the Unwavering Soul, now it's Indomitable Soul Pagoda Art.

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Su Kang's subsequent dual cultivation with Bai Yunxi benefited her immensely, her Qi flowing smoother and her foundation strengthening noticeably with each practice of the Heartfire Symphony.

It benefited him too; the temporary boost to his comprehension and the calming effect of her presence were invaluable aids in his difficult soul cultivation.

He observed her growth with interest. If she breaks through to the Foundation Building Realm... with her soul purity and innate affinity, she might be able to practice the Indomitable Soul Pagoda Art as well, he thought.

Her soul essence would become even more refined... perhaps even surpassing mine in purity.

After her transformation, Bai Yunxi’s soul essence was unnaturally pure, and her learning ability even surpassed his.

From his memories of that doomed future, Su Kang had come to truly understand the rarity and immense value of soul cultivation. Techniques focused on strengthening the spiritual sea, honing the will, and refining the soul’s essence were uncommon and often perilous to practice.

Yet their advantages were undeniable. A powerful and stable soul foundation could dramatically raise the chances of breakthroughs—sometimes by ten to fifteen percent, or even more.

For instance, a low-grade Foundation Building Pill typically offered a 30 to 35 percent success rate. But in the hands of someone with a resilient soul, that same pill could push the odds closer to 50 percent.

When paired with medium-grade pills or higher, soul cultivation offered an advantage that no external aid could replicate, often determining whether a cultivator remained ordinary or ascended.

“How’s your progress with the new technique?” Bai Yunxi asked softly.

They lay together beneath white silk sheets, limbs comfortably intertwined, the warmth of shared breath lingering in the quiet air between them.

“It’s slow, but steady,” Su Kang replied, his tone casual despite the effort the technique demanded. “I estimate a few more months before I can fully transition and begin cultivating it properly.”

"Is this technique difficult?" she asked, curiosity shining in her eyes. Her lack of knowledge stemmed from her background.

Su Kang chose to explain—clarifying the differences between cultivation techniques, a system that defined not only the difficulty but also the very architecture of one’s foundation.

Ordinary-grade techniques were the most accessible. Simply understanding the method and circulating Qi through the designated meridians and acupoints was usually enough to begin. These techniques exerted minimal strain on the body and dantian, making them suitable for starting the cultivation journey.

Profound-grade techniques demanded far more especially beyond Qi Refining stage. Upon breaking through to the Foundation Building realm, a cultivator using a Profound technique would form a Foundation Altar, a spiritual structure that hovered above the liquefied Qi in their dantian.

This altar acted as a stabilizing core, regulating spiritual energy whenever techniques or skills were employed. A poorly formed altar would eventually limit the cultivator’s potential, unable to bear the strain of stronger methods.

Switching main cultivation techniques after forming the altar was no trivial matter. It required realigning one’s foundation—a slow, grueling process involving the loss and painstaking rebuilding of spiritual Qi.

Exquisite-grade techniques stood on another tier altogether. Beyond their inherent strength and complexity, their true distinction lay in the supernatural abilities they bestowed, powers intrinsically tied to the technique’s nature.

Some could summon forces of flame or lightning, or conjure ethereal constructs. Mastery of these abilities often demanded years of focused cultivation.

Advancing to the Core Formation realm while cultivating an Exquisite technique brought about a profound transformation. The Foundation Altar condensed into a unique Core, its form often a reflection of the technique’s essence—perhaps a lotus in bloom, a gleaming sword, or a floating palace.

This shaped Core wasn't merely symbolic; it directly influenced the nature, power, and evolution of the cultivator’s abilities.

By the time one reached the Nascent Soul realm, their supernatural powers became etched into their very essence. Fragments could be passed down through bloodline. Descendants might inherit faint traces of ability—innate affinities, or spiritual gifts resonating with the ancestral imprint.

That night, in her quiet courtyard where jade-bamboo and silver-grass swayed beneath the moonlight, their leaves rustling in the breeze, Su Kang chose rest over rigor. No soul tempering, no Qi circulation. Just the scent of night-blooming orchids, the stillness of the hour, and the warmth of her presence beside him.

…

In the days that followed, Su Kang's focus shifted entirely to the Star Tempering Exercise. Each night, beneath the muted glow of the moon, he sat cross-legged in silent meditation.

The courtyard was hushed, save for the soft whisper of wind threading through the bamboo leaves. His breathing slowed, his focus narrowed, and his Qi circulated in precise patterns drawn from memory.

Yet no matter how many cycles he completed, the astral Qi remained elusive. Distant and aloof, like stars watching from the edge of the heavens, too high to grasp.

Still, he continued.

“Keep doing this until your body absorbs the first wisp of astral Qi.” Fate’s words echoed in his mind, unwavering.

He didn’t entirely abandon the  of soul cultivation. Once, sometimes twice a day, he would retreat into his spiritual sea, attempting again to weave the mist-like walls of willpower between the golden anchor-pillars.

And each time, just as the foundation began to solidify, the visions would return. Searing images of fire, blood, and despair shattered his concentration, dragging him back to the edge of rage and grief. The tragedy replayed, an unwelcome phantom haunting the threshold of his soul’s sanctuary.

This became his routine. Brief, taxing attempts at soul cultivation during the quiet hours of the day, followed by long, seemingly fruitless nights spent practicing the Star Tempering Exercise under the silent gaze of the stars. Yet he didn’t allow himself to become isolated by the demanding practice.

He often sought out Bai Yunxi’s courtyard, finding a unique solace simply by being near her. In her presence, the sharp edges of his memories softened, and the weight on his soul lessened, if only temporarily.

Occasionally, Su Kang returned to the Su family’s training grounds. He rarely spoke unless needed, but the younger disciples looked to him with awe and curiosity. Amid the clatter of practice weapons and youthful shouts, he found a strange kind of peace.

He watched as a young boy, no older than fourteen, stumbled mid-swing, his practice sword trembling violently in his grip. Sweat beaded on the boy’s brow, his face tight with frustration.

"Your grip is too tight," Su Kang said calmly, his voice cutting through the sounds of training. The boy flinched, eyes darting nervously toward him, startled by the unexpected attention.

"If you strangle the sword like that," Su Kang continued, stepping forward, "it becomes a dead weight, not a weapon."

He gently adjusted the boy’s fingers on the hilt, loosening the white-knuckled grip. "Relax your wrist. Feel the balance, the flow. Let the sword become an extension of your arm, guided by your intent." He tapped the boy’s shoulder lightly.

"Don’t just follow forms blindly. Watch your opponent’s breathing, their stance. Anticipate the next move before it even begins."

As he stepped back, a teenage girl with neat twin braids nervously approached, clutching a protective jade talisman in her hand.

"Brother Kang..." she began hesitantly, twisting the talisman between her fingers, "have you... have you heard any news about Sister Hua?"

Su Kang’s gaze softened instantly at the mention of the name.

"I spoke with the Family Head recently," he replied, keeping his voice gentle. "She’s been traveling outside grandpa Li for several months. Most likely, she’ll return soon."

A ripple of excited murmurs spread through the nearby disciples who had overheard.

"She’s been gone so long! Maybe she’ll surprise us all!" one whispered eagerly.

"But Sister Hua is already at the peak of Foundation Building. With her talent, maybe she’ll even break through to the Core Formation realm if she found any opportunity," another added, eyes shining with admiration.

Su Kang’s fingers curled tightly behind his back; the innocent excitement of the disciples was a sharp contrast to the memory that surfaced. He remembered the day his family had obtained a low-grade Core Formation Pill after paying a hefty price in resources.

He remembered Su Hua’s calm, unwavering voice: "You are the one who needs it now, Brother Kang."

"But Sister Hua, it's the dream of grandpa Li and you're already at the peak—"

Her reply had been simple, cutting through his objections.

"I’ve already decided. You’ll become the Su family’s pillar in the future. Your chances of breakthrough are better than mine." Her voice held no trace of resentment or regret.

As if giving up her own chance at reaching a coveted realm—a dream for countless cultivators—was the most natural thing for the family. A quiet, profound sacrifice made for him, for the future she believed he represented.

I can’t get stuck here after coming this far. There are too many things I have to do in the future. Su Kang’s determination took a new shape as he returned to the stone chamber.