All Roads Lead to the Phoenix Princess

Erios909

Copyright © 2024 by Erios909

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover Art by Marli Kusaku

Edited by Michaela Choi

1st edition 2025

Contents

1. Standard Transmigration Opening

2. Trampling Puff

3. Gathering Clouds

4. Whispers of Air

5. Sifting Winds

6. Negotiating Breeze

7. Hidden Gusts

8. Poisonous Zephyr

9. Sheltering Breeze

10. Curious Airs

11. Bloody Squall

12. Traitorous Whirls

13. Reckoning Storm

14. Preparing Wind

15. Training Breezes

16. Rising Tumult

17. Stolen Wind

18. Judgement Gale

19. Rising Swell

20. Standard Alchemy and Meridian Opening

21. Purifying Gale

22. Infiltration Gust

23. Standard Antagonist Confrontation

24. Muted Airs

25. Regretful Stream

26. Questing Drift

27. Rebellious Ebb

28. Useful Flows

29. Standard Mentor Conversation

30. Wraith’s Breath

31. Muddy Rain

32. Bloody Spray

33. Thunder God Splits the Sky and...

34. Tepid Healing Puff

35. Interluding Cloud

36. Standard Reunion with Alchemical Shopping Spree

37. Standard Fated Encounter in the Street

38. Nourishing Flurry

39. Pondering Wisp

40. Potential Clouds

41. Cultivating Flutter

42. Violent Wash

43. Foothills Lull

44. Smackdown Gust

45. Wilderness Sigh

46. Serpent Sough

47. Standard Unprepared Ancient Beast Encounter

48. Standard Post-Trauma Sisterly Bonding

49. Standard Merchandiser Bullying

50. Profitable Winds

51. Return Gust

52. Disconcerting Wave

53. Standard Pill and Trap

54. The Ebb Before...

55. ...the Ice Storm.

56. Relief and Equipment

57. Returning Zephyr

58. Strategic Shift

59. Karmic Sigh

60. Fortification Wave

61. Mastery Push

62. Five Elements Blade

63. Conscription Whirl

64. Lulls Before

65. Hostile Updraft

66. Heavenly Tribulations

67. Spiritual Sunder

68. The Eye of the…

69. Storm

70. Standard Protagonist Moments

71. Routed Flame

72. Future Insight

73. Shifting Wind

74. Night Airs

75. Far-flung Mission

76. Tracking Spirit

77. Wrathful Spirit

78. Relaxing Breeze

79. Double Refined, Double Capacity

80. Standard Training Montage

81. Recruitment Challenges

82. A Favor Owed

83. Epilogue

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Standard Transmigration Opening

Li Mei trudged down the neon-lit street, her feet aching from eight hours of retail hell. The familiar green and orange sign of 7/11 beckoned through the smog-tinged evening air. Inside, fluorescent lights hummed as she grabbed a cup of instant ramen and a package of cookies—the dinner of champions.

The walk to her apartment building took her past a series of overflowing dumpsters and graffiti-covered walls. A tower of garbage bags teetered precariously near the entrance steps. She sidestepped just as a bag slumped sideways, spilling rotting vegetables onto the concrete.

“Thanks for the cleanup, Jerry,” she muttered. The landlord was supposed to take care of things, but he was perpetually absent. No surprise there.

She didn’t have the energy to deal with it, so she hurried upward. The sounds of city life pulsed: screeching tires, blaring horns, and the yowls of alley cats fighting over territory. Through paper-thin walls came the nightly song of her neighbors before she even made it inside.

“You never listen!” screamed 4B while 4D’s bass-heavy music thumped in counterpoint.

Li Mei hurried to unlock her apartment door and escape inside. Even if the walls weren’t soundproof, it was quieter.

A clean lavender scent welcomed her home.

At least here, she maintained control, even if her life had spiraled elsewhere. The art history degree hanging in the entrance hall mocked her daily—a $60,000 piece of paper leading to a dead-end retail job. The student loan statements arrived monthly, their numbers suggesting she’d be paying until retirement.

A hum sounded from the microwave as she nuked her ramen. After a quick shower to wash away the day’s frustrations, she settled into her worn office chair, laptop screen illuminating her face.

Gaming night beckoned! Tomorrow was one of those rare days off, and she could sleep in.

She double-clicked the Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles icon, and a familiar loading screen materialized with its swirling phoenix emblem. The microwave’s unhappy reminder beep interrupted her anticipation.

“Right. Food.”

She left the screen displaying her carefully selected and built characters and headed to the kitchen.

A minute later, a steaming cup of ramen sat on the counter, but there was a problem. She’d forgotten to buy something to drink. A quick fridge check confirmed it: nothing but an ancient bottle of soy sauce and half an onion.

The vending machine across the street beckoned through her fourth-floor window, its LED display cutting through the evening haze like a commercial lighthouse.

Li Mei grabbed her wallet from the coffee table, stuffing it into her jacket pocket with a curse. It’d cost twice as much, but there was no way in hell she was walking all the way back to the stupid convenience store.

As she descended, the stairs creaked under her feet while street-level sodium lights cast the ignored trash in a sickly orange glow. She stepped off the sidewalk and began to cross the street, fishing out her wallet. The vending machine’s absurd prices glowed red.

A flash of white light swept across the pavement. The screech of tires filled her ears.

The Mitsubishi Fuso’s chrome grill consumed her field of vision. Impact.

Darkness.

In every world, there exists a moment when one must choose between bowing to fate or punching it in the face. Choose wisely.
—Lady Tsu Pi, Scrolls of the Jade Mountain

Pain throbbed through her skull in waves of agony as fractured thoughts swirled like autumn leaves caught in a storm.

A boyish voice pierced through the haze. “Sister Xiulan! Please wake up!”

The desperate cry echoed strangely, both foreign and achingly familiar. Li Mei reached up, fingertips meeting the warm wetness matted in her hair. The touch sent lightning bolts of pain through her head.

“Ah!” A sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth.

“Sister Xiulan?” The voice shifted from despair to tentative hope.

Li Mei tried to push herself upright. The world tilted and spun in nauseating circles.

“Don’t move! Captain Bai went to fetch help. You’re hurt badly!”

The boy’s face swam into focus: delicate features, wide eyes brimming with tears, silk robes covered in dirt, branches, and her blood. Lin Zhang Wei. My little brother. The knowledge crashed into her consciousness like a thunderbolt.

“What... what’s happening?” The words tumbled out thick and clumsy. How do I know him? Where am I?

“The carriage axle snapped.” Zhang Wei pointed upward. “We fell when it tipped.”

Through double vision, she tracked his gesture. A steep embankment rose above them, dense with cypress trees. Twenty feet up, a lacquered carriage lay crushed between two massive trunks, its door hanging askew. Higher still, a body draped grotesquely over a thick branch, dark liquid dripping steadily onto the leaves below.

There was no sign of the horses.

Shouts echoed from above through the branches. “The young master went down there after her! Hurry!”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. The words carried more concern for Zhang Wei than for her injuries.

These people don’t care if I live or die. The thought caught her off-guard.

Zhang Wei clutched her arm tightly, pressing his face against the silk sleeve of her robe. Without thinking, she reached out and patted his head. The gesture felt natural, filled with an inexplicable warmth despite her confusion.

Why do I feel such affection for this child I’ve never met?

“Sister Xiulan, are you going to be okay? Does it hurt?” Zhang Wei’s eyes glistened with fresh tears.

“Of course it fucking hurts.” The modern curse slipped out before she could stop it. “Who is Xiulan?”

Zhang Wei jerked back, staring at her with wide eyes. “But... you’re Second Sister Lin Xiulan!”

She pressed her palm against her throbbing temple. The last clear memory blazed through her mind—headlights, screeching tires, the cold pavement. Now, she sat at the bottom of a mountain path beside an ornate wooden carriage that belonged in a period drama.

What is happening to me? One minute, I’m being run down in the street; the next, I’m in some ancient Chinese setting?

“You’re bleeding!” Zhang Wei tugged at his silk sleeve until the fabric tore with a sharp rip. He folded the material into a makeshift bandage and pressed it against her head.

She attempted to push herself up onto shaky legs again, but the world spun violently, trees and sky blending into a nauseating whirl.

“No! Please stay down.” Zhang Wei guided her back to the ground, cradling her head in his lap.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across her face. Birds called to each other in melodic trills while the rustle of wind through cypress needles mixed with the distant crash of a mountain stream.

How can I be Xiulan? I’m Li Mei. Just Li Mei. She touched the tender spot on her forehead where blood matted her hair. Unless... unless Xiulan died when she hit her head. Just like I died when that truck...

This is ridiculous. Like some cheap isekai plot device. But then, why does everything feel so real?

“Help! Down here!” Zhang Wei’s shout echoed off the mountainside. “Sister is hurt!”

The sound of boots sliding on loose earth grew closer as men descended the steep bank.

She stared at Zhang Wei’s worried face. He’s right, though. I am Xiulan. Lin Xiulan. The knowledge settled into place like puzzle pieces clicking together. My brother Zhang Wei. Mother Lin Zhao Lian. Father Lord Lin Tian. First-born daughter of the third concubine.

The most hated daughter in the Lin family.

The realization jolted through her system. She pushed herself upright despite Zhang Wei’s protests.

“I’m fine.” She steadied herself with one hand on the ground.

“Young Master Wei!” The guards reached the bottom of the embankment, rushing toward them.

“You must help Sister Xiulan first!” Zhang Wei planted himself between the guards and the steep embankment. “She’s injured! I’m fine.”

Xiulan grabbed a low-hanging branch to steady herself. The unfamiliar weight of layered silk robes tangled around her legs, and as she attempted to stand, her foot caught in the hem, sending her stumbling forward.

“Careful, Miss Lin.” A guard steadied her arm.

Above them, ropes snaked down the embankment. Two guards lashed together branches and strips of wood torn from the wrecked carriage, creating a crude seat.

“Young Master Wei must ascend first,” announced the lead guard.

Zhang Wei tensed. “No! Sister Xiulan—“

“It’s fine.” Xiulan squeezed his hand. “Go up. I’ll follow right after.”

Zhang Wei’s bottom lip trembled, but he allowed the guards to secure the rope around his waist. The makeshift seat creaked as they lifted him skyward.

Once he disappeared over the ridge, the guards turned to her. She grunted as they cinched the rope tight around her waist. The wooden seat dug into her thighs through the silk layers.

“Ready below!” a voice called up.

The ascent jerked and swayed, branches scratching at her arms as the embankment’s loose soil crumbled beneath the seat with each bump. Her head throbbed in protest at the jolting movement.

But she made it, only to crest the ridge into organized chaos.

A line of ornate carriages stretched along the mountain path. Guards in matching uniforms moved between supply wagons while servants rushed back and forth, carrying bundles and boxes.

Memory struck like lightning. They were headed to the county capital for Madam Zhang’s birthday celebration. The woman had replaced Xiulan’s mother after bearing Lord Lin multiple children.

The very woman who viewed Xiulan as nothing more than a reminder of her mother’s fall from grace.

The crashed carriage had delayed the entire convoy. Xiulan steadied herself against a cypress tree as a guard unclasped the rope harness.

“Wait here,” he said. “The physician should be here soon.” The guard strode away without a backward glance.

The mountain path bustled with activity, yet no one offered her a place to sit. Zhang Wei had vanished. Blood trickled down her temple, each throb bringing waves of disorientation. The unfamiliar weight of silk robes dragged at her shoulders.

Carved wooden wheels creaked against stone. Two women emerged from a nearby carriage, their emerald and sapphire robes catching the filtered sunlight.

Her sisters—Lin Qian, Lin Fei. Not friends.

They approached with measured steps. Fei’s laughter cut through the mountain air. “Look, Sister Qian! Her robes finally match her status.”

Xiulan glanced down. Dirt and grass stains marred the once-pristine silk. Tears exposed the lighter underlayers, and blood droplets dotted the fabric like crimson flowers.

“I hit my head, but I think I’m okay.” The words came out uncertain, the sentiment caught between two lives.

Qian’s painted lips curled. “How do you plan to make up for delaying Mother’s celebration?”

“What?” Xiulan blinked. How was this her fault? The accusation made no sense. The carriage had plummeted off a cliff. She wasn’t the driver.

“Kneel and kowtow six times.” Fei lifted her chin. “Perhaps then we’ll forgive you.”

“It’s not my fault.” Xiulan pressed her palm against her throbbing temple. “I hit my head, and I need to rest. Please leave me alone.”

Surprise flickered across Qian’s features.

Fei’s face flushed red. She stepped forward like a snake, and a sharp slap cracked against Xiulan’s cheek.

“Sister Xiulan!” Zhang Wei’s horrified shout pierced the air.

Years of retail rage bubbled up alongside a sea of hazy grievances. Before she could stop herself, Xiulan’s fist connected with Fei’s nose.

Cartilage crunched, and her sister crashed to the ground with a piercing shriek.

Trampling Puff

When facing superior forces, remember that perception shapes reality. Let them see what they expect to see while you move unseen beneath their assumptions.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Li Mei stepped to the side as Qian lunged toward her with outstretched hands. Xiulan’s fist connected with the other girl’s jaw with a satisfying crack.

The eldest sister collapsed beside Fei in a heap of silk and broken pride.

The world spun. Blood pulsed behind Xiulan’s eyes as fear and adrenaline warred in her system. What did I just do? The thought barely registered before Fei’s shrill voice cut through the mountain air.

“Guards! Kill her! Kill this beast!”

Sharp pain lanced through Xiulan’s ankle as Fei’s manicured nails dug into flesh like daggers. Xiulan pivoted and drove her foot into her sister’s already broken face. The crunch sent her sister rolling away with fresh screams.

Both her sisters wailed on the ground, their perfect makeup streaked with tears and blood.

The guards stood frozen, weapons half-drawn as they stared at the scene.

Zhang Wei bounced on his toes, beaming like it was New Year’s Festival. “That was… amazing, Sister Xiulan,” he whispered as he came over.

Exhaustion crashed over her in a giant wave, her legs trembling beneath the weight of her robes. Zhang Wei guided her toward a nearby carriage, helping her settle onto the wooden seat.

Time blurred. Servants shuttled Qian and Fei and their shrieks away for treatment while she waited.

The physician finally appeared, his robes pristine despite the dusty mountain path. The man’s expression was unreadable, a mix of calm efficiency and professional detachment.

“Greetings to the second daughter. I am Jin Wei,” he announced with a slight bow.

“Doctor.” Xiulan winced at the slight movement of turning her head to meet his gaze. “I think I have a concussion.” Her voice was low, tinged with both pain and exhaustion.

Jin Wei’s eyebrows rose slightly. “A perceptive diagnosis, Miss Lin,” he remarked, setting his leather medical bag beside her.

He carefully examined her head wound, his fingers gentle yet firm, parting her hair to assess the injury. She flinched as he applied a disinfectant, the sting biting through the dull ache. “The impact was severe, but the wound is clean,” he noted clinically. A clean white bandage replaced her little brother’s silk triage.

Her ankle was bad, too. Crescent-shaped cuts marred the skin. Jin Wei’s expression remained neutral, but there was a faint tension in his hands as he dabbed medicine over the wounds.

“These gashes will need to be kept clean and treated daily to prevent infection,” he said, his voice steady as he pressed a bandage over the bleeding scratches. “You’re fortunate the skin wasn’t torn further.”

When he reached her bruised knuckles, Jin Wei paused for a moment, glancing up at her. “I assume this injury is recent?”

Xiulan’s lips curled into a faint, wry smile. “It was self-inflicted.”

Jin Wei nodded, seemingly unaffected by the confession. He applied a cool poultice, the herbal scent strong and earthy. “This should reduce the swelling.”

“You likely have a concussion,” he continued. “While not immediately fatal, you could become very ill. Symptoms may worsen, and you’ll need constant monitoring.”

“Sister!” Zhang Wei cried, clutching her sleeve with sudden urgency. “Will she be okay?” His young voice was shaky, caught between fear and hope.

“It could prove fatal without proper observation,” Jin Wei replied gravely, glancing briefly at Zhang Wei. “The next few days are critical, so she should not be left unattended.”

Jin Wei quickly gathered his supplies, packing them back into his bag. “My apologies, but I must return to attend to the eldest daughter again, as commanded,” he said with a bow.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor Jin Wei,” Xiulan managed.

Jin Wei paused, surprise flickering across his face before he offered another bow and then hurried away.

A guard approached with stiff shoulders and a practiced bow. “Apologies, Second Daughter, but we must place you in the supply wagon. No carriages remain available.”

“What nonsense!” Zhang Wei stomped his foot. “There’s a perfectly good carriage right here! How dare you insult the Second Daughter of the Lin family!”

The carriage window creaked open. A pale face peered out, eyes wide with fear.

That face... I know her. The familiar sensation washed over Xiulan like cold water. Memories that weren’t quite her own surfaced: shared meals, whispered conversations, gentle smiles.

“Sister Suyin,” Xiulan whispered.

“You can’t ride with me!” Suyin gripped the window frame. “They’ll take revenge! Zhang Wei, come quickly before they associate you with her and beat you again!”

This family is a real mess. Xiulan rubbed her temples.

“No!” Zhang Wei planted his feet. “I won’t abandon Sister Xiulan! This is wrong!” His voice rose with each word, drawing attention from nearby servants.

“Zhang Wei.” Xiulan touched his shoulder. “Go with Sister Suyin. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“

“Please. For me.”

Zhang Wei’s shoulders slumped. He climbed into the carriage, shooting worried glances back at her.

“Lead me to my spot,” Xiulan ordered the guard.

The supply wagon lurked at the back of the convoy, piled high with crates and bundles. No cushions. No blankets against the mountain chill.

Once she was situated, the guard left her, and it wasn’t long before they began to move. Each bump and jostle sent fresh shocks of pain through her ankle and temple.

Somehow, getting to where they were supposed to be going didn’t seem like it would be any better.

Actually, it felt worse, like an impending cloud of doom.

The fear seeping in was clearly another echo from Lin Xiulan…

They were moving so slowly. At least it would take them all day to get anywhere.

Xiulan leaned against the rough wooden slats of a crate, tilting her face toward the sky. Through gaps in the overhead branches, patches of azure peeked between wisps of white clouds. Fresh buds dotted the trees—it was definitely early spring.

The thick, layered silk robes cocooned her against the crisp air. She tucked her arms deeper into the voluminous sleeves, grateful for the warmth even if it couldn’t do anything about the comfort. The hard planks beneath offered no cushioning, each bump and jostle wakening her injuries.

Focus. She needed to sort out this mess.

The memories flowed like water—both foreign and familiar. Her mother, ranked third concubine to Lord Lin, was stripped of her position as his first wife after becoming barren.

Madam Zhang had swooped in to claim that title, along with all its privileges. House Song, her mother’s family, had already fallen before then, so there was no one to protest the treatment.

The family hierarchy took form in her mind: Qian and Fei, Zhang’s scheming daughters. Lin Jin, the precious heir, and father’s favorite. Then there was Zhang Wei, sweet but dismissed as merely a backup child. Only he and Sister Suyin showed her any genuine kindness among her siblings.

Everyone else might as well paint “enemy” on their foreheads.

Her father ruled Blackmere County as the provincial magistrate. Something about that name tickled at her memories—not Xiulan’s memories, but Li Mei’s. Why did it seem so familiar?

She raised her hand toward the sky, squinting past her fingers at the drifting clouds. The wagon hit another rut, nearly toppling her sideways. Fresh pain bloomed.

Jin Wei’s treatments had helped, but bouncing around in a supply wagon qualified as the opposite of proper medical care.

The sun slipped past its zenith, casting long shadows through the thinning trees. Xiulan braced against another jolt as the wagon descended from the mountain pass onto more level ground. A clear stream meandered alongside the road, widening into a gentle river reflecting the afternoon light.

Tendrils of smoke curled above the distant tree line. The forest opened into rolling grasslands, revealing a stone-walled settlement that dominated the landscape. That triggered fragments of memory—this wasn’t just any town, but the county capital of Blackmere.

The estate they’d left rivaled it in size, though both paled compared to the grander cities she’d known in... another life?

From her position at the back of the convoy, she watched the massive gatehouse doors swing wide. The procession crawled forward through throngs of festival-goers packing the approaching road.

Everyone wanted to attend Madam Zhang’s birthday celebration—a thought that sent ice through Xiulan’s veins.

Qian and Fei will be center stage at the banquet. The realization tightened around her throat like a noose. Their mother’s reaction to the earlier fight would be...

Xiulan pulled her knees to her chest and rested her aching head against them. Escape tempted her, but phantom pain ghosted across her skin at the thought. She’d tried before—when? The memory slipped away like smoke, leaving only echoes of punishment.

The gentle swaying of the wagon lulled her into an uneasy sleep despite the thrum of the crowd. That didn’t last long, though; nearby shouts soon jolted her awake.

“Find Lin Xiulan! She escaped!”

“The Lord demands she account for her actions!”

Guards and soldiers swarmed the area, their voices rising.

Gathering Clouds

The greatest victory is not in defeating your opponent but in making them defeat themselves. Let their own actions become the rope that binds them.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Of course those scheming sisters set this up.

Xiulan suppressed a bitter laugh. The shouts continued around her, boots thundering past the wagon.

“Guard!” Xiulan projected her voice toward a soldier rushing past.

The guard skidded to a halt, spinning around. His eyes widened as he spotted her sitting in plain view in the supply wagon. “Miss Lin?”

“Over here! I found her!” The guard’s shout drew others like moths to flame.

Armored figures converged on the wagon, hands on sword hilts. A burly guard with a scarred face stepped forward. “Why did you hide in here?”

The crowd parted as heavy footsteps approached. Like her other family members, she recognized him: Bai Chen, Captain of the House Guard.

He strode through the gathering, his weathered features and steady confidence instantly familiar. Not an enemy. From what she could glean, he was utterly upright.

Xiulan glanced down at her ankle. Blood had seeped through Jin Wei’s bandages, staining the white cloth a brownish red. She lifted her gaze to meet Bai Chen’s eyes.

“I am exactly where you put me after the accident. Where else would I be?” The words rang clear across the sudden hush.

Several guards shifted uncomfortably, averting their eyes.

Xiulan squeezed her forearm. “Did you really expect the Second Daughter of the Lin family to get out of this supply wagon with her injuries, all on her own?”

Bai Chen clasped his hands and bowed deeply. The assembled guards hastily followed suit. “The House Guard apologizes for the Second Daughter’s treatment! Send steps for the Lord’s Second Daughter at once!”

Two guards scrambled up onto the wagon, their armor clanking against the wooden slats. The mobile steps arrived and were settled against the back with a solid thunk. Xiulan gripped the offered hands, focusing on each movement as she navigated toward the steps.

The world tilted sideways as she descended. Her knees threatened to buckle, but the guards’ steady grip kept her upright. Bai Chen extended his calloused hand at the bottom.

“Can you walk, Miss Lin?” Bai Chen’s question cut through the growing fog in her mind.

“I...” The courtyard spun lazily. “I don’t think so.”

“Bring the palanquin!” Bai Chen’s command echoed across the yard.

The next few moments blurred together. Silk curtains brushing against her arms. The gentle sway of being carried. Wooden poles creaking rhythmically.

Reality snapped back into focus amid the bustle of city streets as they turned the corner.

Merchants and civilians pressed against building walls as guards cleared their path. The palanquin bearers’ steady footsteps carried her past shops with elaborate displays and toward a massive walled structure dominating the skyline.

Through gaps in the curtains, Xiulan spotted servants unloading wagons from the convoy. Her bearers passed under an ornate archway where ceremonial guards stood at attention, their polished armor gleaming.

They entered a sprawling courtyard packed with silk-robed figures. Jeweled hairpins glinted in elaborate coiffures above embroidered rank badges marking officials and wealthy guests. The wave of whispers rippling through the crowd seemed to follow her.

Xiulan glanced down. Blood had soaked through the bandages on her ankle, creating stark crimson patterns against the white cloth. A warm trickle down her temple explained the renewed throbbing in her head. The rough wagon ride had reopened her wounds and added fresh bruises. She touched her face; her fingers came away red.

Some entrance to Madam Zhang’s birthday celebration.

Wailing pierced through the silk curtains of the palanquin.

Thinking back to how successfully she’d taken down Fei and Qian, maybe her own state was for the best.

Qian and Fei’s theatrical sobs were easily recognizable—they’d perfected that particular skill over years of manipulating their father.

“That violent creature must be dealt with!” Madam Zhang’s shrill voice cut through the afternoon air. “She attacked my precious daughters on this day! I demand the severest punishment!”

Xiulan traced the dried blood on her temple. The familiar numbness spread through her chest. What could they possibly do to her now? Death held a little less fear after experiencing it once—twice?—already.

The palanquin halted. Xiulan pushed aside the curtain and stepped out onto the cobblestones.

Fresh whispers rippled through the gathered crowd at her bloodied appearance. She straightened her spine and walked forward, each step sending a sharp pain through her injured ankle.

Lord Lin stood ahead, his official robes pristine in the afternoon sun, the deep crimson fabric sharply contrasting with the earthy tones of the crowd. His heavily embroidered collar framed a face marked by authority and indifference, while dark hair swept back neatly revealed silver strands that hinted at his age.

Behind him, Qian and Fei dropped their sobbing act for a brief moment to shoot venomous smirks in her direction, despite Fei’s badly swollen nose and bruised face and the dark bruising forming along Qian’s jaw. They’d washed away the dirt and blood, but the damage remained stark in the afternoon light.

Madam Zhang practically vibrated with rage beside her husband, but Xiulan passed her over. Her fate rested in her father’s hands alone, so she’d focus only on him. His stern features betrayed no emotion as she approached.

Xiulan planted her feet firmly on the cobblestone, ignoring her throbbing ankle. The gathered crowd blurred at the edges of her vision. Her hands clasped together in what she hoped was a proper greeting.

“Lin Family’s Second Daughter greets her noble father.”

Scattered laughter rippled through the crowd. Qian stepped forward, her silk robes rustling against the stones. “Does she think she’s a martial artist now?”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. The realization hit like ice water: the proper greeting should have been a curtsy.

“This daughter apologizes for the improper greeting,” she said. “My injuries prevent me from making the proper movement.”

Lord Lin raised his hand, silencing the whispers. “Honorifics are of no import.” His deep voice carried across the courtyard. “Explain yourself. Why did you beat your sisters on this day? Surely you understand the importance of Madam Zhang’s birthday celebration? The loss of face in front of so many distinguished guests?”

Like falling off a cliff in a carriage was her fucking fault at all? She clenched down on her first response. No, he would have focused only on what Qian and Fei fed him. She needed to redirect that to the facts about what had happened.

Xiulan lifted her chin, meeting Qian and Fei’s smug expressions without flinching.

“My carriage fell off a cliff, and I sustained injuries in the fall.” Blood trickled down her temple, but she ignored it. “When the men pulled Zhang Wei and me up with ropes, Sister Fei attacked. I defended myself, and Sister Qian joined the assault.”

The smugness drained from her sisters’ faces. Madam Zhang’s mouth fell open, her perfectly painted lips forming a small “o” of shock.

None of them had expected a rebuttal—not from Xiulan. The memories flooding through her mind painted a clear picture: a timid girl, beaten down by years of abuse, who would have accepted punishment without protest.

That’s okay. I will speak up for both of us. These snakes don’t deserve any platitudes.

Qian surged forward. “That girl insulted us when we expressed concern for her health! We merely requested an apology!”

Lies, lies, lies.

Lord Lin’s fingers drummed against his ornate belt, brow furrowed as he glanced between his daughters. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool spring air. The entire gathered crowd seemed to focus on him.

Zhang Wei burst through the crowd, his small finger pointed accusingly at Fei. “She slapped Second Sister first! Before Jin Wei could even treat her!”

Madam Zhang’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as she glared at Zhang Wei. The murderous glint in her gaze sent ice through Xiulan’s veins. Her sweet little brother had just painted a target on his back.

“Qian.” Lord Lin’s stern voice cut through the tension. “Is this true?”

“We... we were just...” Qian’s practiced composure cracked. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

“The Honored Physician greets noble Lord Lin.” Jin Wei stepped forward with a formal bow, cutting off Qian’s stammering. “This servant treated the Lord’s first and third daughters at their insistence before approaching Second Daughter Xiulan.”

“She sustained severe injuries from the fall.” The doctor’s open palm fell toward her as he explained. “The second altercation worsened her condition significantly.”

Jin Wei’s clinical gaze swept over Xiulan’s bloodied form. “Her current state has deteriorated, becoming critical. It appears she was neglected after treatment. Without immediate action, she risks death.”

Lord Lin’s face darkened to a dangerous shade of crimson. “Jin Wei! Explain how her condition worsened after your treatment!”

The throbbing in Xiulan’s head intensified as the cobblestones beneath her feet seemed to tilt and sway. She steadied herself.

It was time to seize the moment.

“Father.” The word scratched against her dry throat. “They called the honorable doctor away and ordered me to ride in the last supply wagon of the convoy for the rest of the trip. Alone.”

Maybe that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t heard what her sisters had said after all, but it was what had happened.

The gathered crowd fell silent. Even the birds stopped chirping as Lord Lin’s rage rolled across the courtyard in palpable waves.

“WHO?” His roar echoed off the stone walls. “Who dared issue such an order?”

Captain Bai Chen stepped forward and dropped into a formal bow. “My Lord, First Daughter Qian commanded this after the altercation.”

Xiulan watched Qian’s face drain of color, her smug superiority evaporating like morning dew under a harsh sun.

“How dare you!” Lord Lin whirled on Qian. “What gives you the authority to treat your sister this way?”

“She... I...” Qian’s perfect composure crumbled. “She needed punishment for—“

“PUNISHMENT?” Lord Lin’s fist slammed against the nearby railing. The sharp crack made several guests jump.

Madam Zhang glided forward, placing a delicate hand on Lord Lin’s arm. “My dear husband, please remember today’s celebration. Our guests...”

Lord Lin squared his shoulders and faced the assembled crowd. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he raised his hand.

“Physician Jin Wei, attend to Second Daughter Xiulan immediately!” His voice carried across the courtyard like thunder. “Daughters Qian and Fei will remain confined to their rooms for the duration of the banquet!”

The world spun faster. Xiulan bowed low, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ankle. “Thank you, Honored Father, for caring for this daughter.”

There appeared to be firsts for everything.

Darkness cut the thought short as it rushed up to meet her again, but this time, strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

Whispers of Air

When faced with overwhelming odds, the clever mortal learns to bend like bamboo rather than stand rigid like oak. Flexibility, not force, ensures survival.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Xiulan drifted into consciousness, enveloped by silk sheets and the subtle aroma of sandalwood incense. Every muscle protested as she pushed herself upright. Clean white bandages wrapped her injuries, and a light chemise replaced her heavy robe.

The ornate furniture and jade decorations surrounding her belonged in an honored guest chamber, not the modest servant quarters she typically occupied. This doesn’t make sense... unless...

The memory of confronting her sisters before the gathered officials surfaced. Lord Lin’s thunderous reaction. Of course—appearances mattered more than anything.

Her improved treatment served his face, not her comfort. It left a bitter taste.

How long will this last? Madam Zhang and her daughters wouldn’t let the slight pass. She was sure they’d already be plotting their revenge.

A golden bell-pull cord hung beside the bed, its purpose clear. Xiulan tugged it, sending a gentle chime echoing through the room.

The silence shattered as two junior servants burst through the door, their unfamiliar faces beaming with eager attention.

“Miss Lin! You’re awake!” The first servant bowed deeply. “Do you need water? Tea, perhaps?”

“Should we fetch the physician?” The second servant stepped forward. “Or would you prefer to break your fast first?”

Xiulan blinked at the rapid-fire questions. “I... water would be fine.”

The door creaked again as another maid entered, carrying fresh linens. Something about her struck Xiulan: the way she moved, the slight tilt of her head. Memory stirred like ripples in still water.

“Mei Chen?” The name slipped from Xiulan’s lips.

The maid greeted her with a smile. “Miss Xiulan?”

“Could I speak with Mei Chen alone?” Xiulan addressed the other servants.

The two exchanged surprised glances but nodded. They shuffled out, closing the door behind them.

“Miss Xiulan, are you feeling well?” Mei Chen clutched the linens to her chest. “You seem... different.”

“Do you know what happened?” Xiulan adjusted herself against the pillows.

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen set the linens aside. “But please, don’t provoke Madam Zhang or your sisters further. They’ll seek revenge.”

“I know that all too well.” Xiulan traced the edge of her bandage. “But what choice did I have? They tried to eliminate me. I just defended myself.”

Mei Chen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Surely they didn’t try to... to...” The words died in her throat.

Xiulan reached out to pat Mei Chen’s arm. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course!” Mei Chen straightened. “You’ve always shown me kindness. You’re my friend, Miss Xiulan.”

The embrace came naturally as she pulled Mei Chen close. “Thank you for being here.”

A strange disconnect washed over Xiulan. The memories of Li Mei clashed with her current reality. Was it right to leverage Xiulan’s relationships like this? But these memories, this body, this life—they belonged to her now, too.

Right? It was all so very confusing. But no matter what, she felt a warmth toward Mei Chen and Zhang Wei, so what was wrong with that?

Mei Chen pulled back and pressed her forehead against Xiulan’s. “Are you truly well? You seem disoriented.”

“Just shaken.” Xiulan attempted a weak laugh. “I need to know what’s happened since I lost consciousness. How long was I asleep?”

“Two days, miss. Doctor Jin visited daily to treat you. He predicted you’d wake soon.”

Two days. Xiulan’s mind raced through calculations. Tomorrow marked the last day of Madam Zhang’s banquet. Time pressed against her like a physical weight.

“What date is it?” Xiulan gripped the silk sheets tighter.

Mei Chen frowned. “The fifteenth day of March, Miss Xiulan.”

Spring. She had guessed right before. The cherry blossoms visible through the window seemed to confirm it as well.

“And the year?”

“Kingdom Chronicle Year 885.” Mei Chen sat down on the side of the bed.

Xiulan blinked rapidly. The words echoed in her mind, refusing to make sense. “Kingdom Chronicle Year?”

“Miss Xiulan, are you well?” Mei Chen reached toward her forehead.

“Where...” Xiulan swallowed hard. “Where exactly are we?”

“In Lord Lin’s manor, of course. In Blackmere city.”

“Yes, but Blackmere is part of...?”

“The Ducal Province of Aeris.” Mei Chen wrung her hands. “In the Kingdom of Arinthia. Should I fetch Doctor Jin Wei? You seem unwell.”

Each name struck like a physical blow.

Kingdom Chronicle Year. Aeris. Arinthia. The familiar terms belonged to Li Mei’s memories, not Xiulan’s. They were names from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles—the game she’d loaded just before stepping out for that fatal drink. The game she’d spent countless hours playing whenever she had free time.

The throbbing in her head intensified as two sets of memories warred within her mind. The modern world of Li Mei clashed violently against the medieval reality of Lin Xiulan.

What the absolute fuck? The coincidence stretched beyond belief. Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles had somehow become her reality—or she’d lost her mind completely.

“Miss? Miss?” Mei Chen shook Xiulan’s shoulder. “You’re scaring me.”

Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s arm and exhaled slowly. “I apologize for worrying you. The confusion from waking up... it’s passing now.” She managed a small smile. “I’m just grateful you’re here with me.”

“Of course, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen straightened the bedding. “Doctor Jin left specific instructions for when you woke.”

“Oh?” Xiulan shifted against the pillows.

“Yes. He insisted you get cleaned up and start with a light soup to rebuild your strength.”

A growl from Xiulan’s stomach punctuated the suggestion. “That sounds perfect,” she said, smoothing the silk sheets. “Could you inform the other maids to notify Doctor Jin? And perhaps arrange for that soup?” The prospect of food awakened a fierce hunger she hadn’t noticed before.

“Right away!” Mei Chen beamed. “Should I help you wash and dress?”

“Please.” Xiulan swung her legs over the bed’s edge.

Mei Chen darted from the room with quick steps. She returned moments later and guided Xiulan through ornate wooden doors into an adjoining washroom. Steam rose from a large wooden tub, the scent of jasmine oils perfuming the air.

Red crystals glowed at the bottom of the tub, their warm light rippling through the clear water. Firestones. Of course.

This isn’t just historical China—it’s Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles.

The realization sparked through her mind like lightning. The game’s complex system of magic and cultivation existed here, layered beneath the mundane world she’d witnessed so far. Her family’s wealth meant access to basic magical items like firestones and spirit stones, though they lived firmly in the mortal realm.

Cultivation. The word echoed in her thoughts with new significance. The game’s progression system wasn’t just virtual anymore—it was almost certainly real.

The thought left her feeling tipsy. Superpowers could be achieved here!

“Let me help you, Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen said, stepping forward.

The familiar routine flowed naturally as Mei Chen unwrapped the bandages and helped remove her chemise. Fresh scabs marked Xiulan’s ankle where the skin had torn.

“Did Doctor Jin mention if I could submerge it?” Xiulan pointed to her injured foot.

“He said it should be fine now.” Mei Chen retrieved a small ceramic jar from a nearby shelf. “The risk of infection has passed. He left this ointment for your ankle and head.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Xiulan said, slipping into the wooden tub. Heat enveloped her body, the temperature hovering just below what was bearable.

Warm water cascaded down Xiulan’s back as Mei Chen worked with gentle, practiced motions. The soft cloth swept across her skin, washing away days of sweat and worry. Steam rose from the firestone-heated bath, carrying the subtle scent of jasmine oil through the air.

Mei Chen hummed softly while tidying the scattered bandages and gathering fresh towels. The quiet domesticity created a peaceful bubble, allowing Xiulan’s thoughts to drift and settle.

A mortal noble’s daughter in Blackmere County.

The title felt both foreign and familiar. Blackmere ranked among the poorest counties in Arinthia despite—or perhaps because of—its position within the Dukedom of Aeris. The sparse resources and constant political maneuvering left little room for advancement for mortals or immortals.

That would be both a problem and a blessing. Getting what she needed would be harder, but fewer eyes would be watching her here. Certainly less scary ones.

The bath’s heat seeped into her muscles but couldn’t wash away the cold reality of her situation. Her own family sought her death. Even now, Madam Zhang plotted revenge while her sisters nursed their wounds and bruised pride.

Mortals die here. Often. The knowledge surfaced from Li Mei’s countless hours of gameplay. NPCs—no, people now—perished from monster attacks, political schemes, or simple accidents. Life held little value beyond the walls of major cities and noble estates.

The date nagged at her. Kingdom Chronicle Year 885. Five years before the game’s starting point. Before the fall of Arinthia. Before the monsters emerged in full force.

Before everything changed.

In the game, players had rebuilt from ruins, developed powers, and forged new destinies. But now? The kingdom stood intact. The cataclysm remained a future echo, a disaster that hadn’t yet struck.

I know what’s coming. The thought sent ripples through the bathwater as she shifted. But can I change it?

Xiulan slid deeper into the bath until the warm water touched her chin. The Phoenix Princess still lived. The royal family remained whole. No armies gathered at the borders. No monsters prowled the wilderness. The invasion existed only in her memories of a game not yet played out in her new reality.

She submerged until only her nose broke the surface, watching ripples spread across the water. Five years stretched before her like an open road. Five years to prepare for catastrophe.

Five years to change fate itself.

Was she being melodramatic? Maybe it came from her Xiulan side?

Xiulan, do you want to save the world?

There was no response, not that she had expected one.

The water dripped from her nose as she surfaced with a frown. Her current position at the bottom of her family’s social ladder presented an immediate obstacle. The Lin family barely registered as minor nobility, and her status as a second daughter placed her even lower.

Worse still, her body lacked the strength and skill of a cultivator. No mystical energy coursed through her meridians. No supernatural abilities waited at her fingertips.

Not yet.

“Status,” she whispered experimentally. Nothing happened. “Inventory?” Silence answered. “System?”

The familiar game interfaces remained stubbornly absent. No helpful menus appeared. No statistical readouts materialized, and there were no quest markers to point the way forward.

Steam swirled around her face as uncertainty crept into her thoughts. The game knowledge stored in her mind offered strategic value, but implementation required resources she didn’t possess. Her college and retail experience wouldn’t help her fight monsters or cultivate magical powers.

A chill ran through her despite the bath’s warmth. This wasn’t a game anymore. No save points. No respawns. Just the raw reality of a world on the brink of chaos.

She needed to get started. And fast.

Sifting Winds

A cultivator without proper equipment is like a scholar without books—limited not by talent but by lack of tools. Choose your first spiritual items with care, for they shape the path ahead.
—Sage Master Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Li Mei held her arms out as Mei Chen dressed her. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the rough cloth she had worn in her past life.

Not having to dress herself anymore was strange, but the attention was nice. Mei Chen’s gentle hands adjusted the layers with practiced precision, securing sashes and smoothing wrinkles.

“Thank you, Mei Chen,” Xiulan said, appreciating the care.

Mei Chen smiled, her eyes warm. “It’s my pleasure, Miss Xiulan.”

Another maid entered, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup and a small, round pill. “Doctor Jin sent this Health Reinvigoration Pill for you,” she announced, placing the items on the table.

Xiulan eyed the pill warily. In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, pills and medicine were significant. They could heal, enhance abilities, or even save lives. But they could also be deadly if tampered with or created poorly. Jin’s skill wasn’t in question, but the chain of custody was.

“Thank you,” Xiulan said, dismissing the maid with a nod.

That only left her staring at the soup. Could she trust it? Madam Zhang and her sisters controlled most of the household staff. Only a few exceptions, like Mei Chen, stood outside their influence.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of her hunger. She picked up the spoon and dipped it into the broth, the aroma of chicken and herbs filling her senses. She took a tentative sip. The warmth spread through her, easing some of her tension.

“If anything happens to me now,” she muttered, “Father would be suspicious.”

Mei Chen hovered nearby, concern etched on her face. Xiulan met her eyes and saw genuine worry there. She’d need to lean on Mei Chen more.

“Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen said softly, “Doctor Jin wouldn’t let anything harm you.”

“I know,” Xiulan replied. “But we can’t be too careful.”

She picked up the pill and inspected it. It looked like any other Health Reinvigoration Pill from the game: smooth, round, and slightly translucent. She hid it inside her robe’s pocket.

“Mei Chen,” Xiulan said, “I need your help more than ever.”

“Of course, Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen replied without hesitation. “I’m here for you.”

Xiulan took another spoonful of soup, feeling a bit more at ease. “I want to go out today, see the city.”

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen stepped back. “But you’ve only just recovered. Should you really—”

“Actually, it’s perfect timing.” Xiulan traced the rim of her bowl. “The festival means crowds everywhere. We won’t stand out. Plus, everyone who might cause trouble is either confined or busy with the banquet activities.”

She smiled. “Since I was injured, no one expects me to take part. I’m free to do as I please.”

Mei Chen’s shoulders relaxed. “That... makes sense.”

“We’ll need money, though. Could you fetch my purse?”

Mei Chen bowed and retrieved a small embroidered silk bag from a nearby cabinet. The coins inside clinked as she set it down.

Xiulan sipped another spoonful of soup. “Count it for me?”

Mei Chen emptied the contents onto the table, sorting through the silver pieces. “Eighty-seven taels, Miss Xiulan.”

The amount seemed substantial, but Xiulan frowned. Silver might work for common merchants, but cultivator goods required far more valuable currency. She’d need significantly more resources for her plans.

“Bring out my ornaments and jewels too.”

Xiulan finished the last of her soup while Mei Chen retrieved several lacquered boxes. The maid arranged them carefully on the table, their brass hinges gleaming in the morning light.

Xiulan opened the first box and a wave of sympathy washed over her for the original Xiulan. The meager collection inside spoke volumes about her position in the family.

Six loose gemstones lay scattered across the velvet lining: two pale jade pieces no larger than her thumbnail, a deep blue sapphire with a minor inclusion, a modest ruby that caught the morning light, and two small diamonds that sparkled despite their flaws.

The gold necklace featured a single emerald pendant—pretty, but nowhere near the quality noble daughters typically wore. Two sets of matching gold earrings completed the pitiful collection, along with a handful of silver accessories and bracelets strewn about like afterthoughts.

No gold bracelets. Of course not. Those came from admirers and betrothals—neither of which existed for the family’s forgotten daughter.

“Is this everything, Mei Chen?”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen bowed deeply. “This is all.”

“What about promissory notes? Other funds?”

Mei Chen’s shoulders dropped further. “Your monthly allowance remains at five taels, Miss. It hasn’t increased since you were a child.”

“And my sisters’ allowances?”

“I don’t know the exact amount...” Mei Chen twisted her hands. “But at least a few hundred taels each month.”

“Of course it is.” Xiulan drummed her fingers on the table.

“Miss Xiulan, if we’re going out, perhaps you shouldn’t wear your best pieces—“

“We’re bringing everything except the silver necklace and earring set.”

“But Miss—“ Mei Chen’s protest died as Xiulan raised her hand.

“Find me the quickest path to an honest jeweler.”

Mei Chen straightened her shoulders. “At once, my lady!” She darted from the room, leaving Xiulan to examine the meager collection once more.

Within minutes, Mei Chen returned with another servant in tow. Together, they wrapped each piece in silk, nestling them carefully into the lacquered boxes. The methodical process reminded Xiulan of how rare items were packed in the game.

A guard appeared in the doorway, his posture rigid. Perfect timing.

“Your name?” Xiulan asked.

“Guard Luo Han greets the Second Daughter.” He bowed stiffly.

“Good. You’ll carry these.” She gestured to the boxes and purse.

The morning air carried a hint of spring crispness as they stepped into the manor grounds. Unlike the chaos of her arrival, their departure proved remarkably simple. The guards at the gate barely glanced up from their posts as the small group passed through.

The city streets bustled with activity. Merchants called out their wares while children darted between market stalls. The aroma of steamed buns and grilled meats wafted from nearby food stands. Xiulan’s stomach tightened with interest, but she pushed the temptation aside. Business first.

Mei Chen led the way and navigated the crowded streets. Behind them, Luo Han’s steady footsteps kept pace, the jewelry boxes secure in his arms.

The artisan district emerged around them, marked by increasingly elaborate storefronts. A modest building with polished windows caught Xiulan’s attention and luckily, it was their destination. A small bell announced their arrival as they stepped inside the jeweler’s shop.

The gentle tinkling faded as an elderly man emerged from behind a beaded curtain. His keen eyes sparkled beneath bushy white brows as he approached their group.

“Welcome to my humble establishment.” He bowed with practiced grace.

“I have some pieces that need appraising,” Xiulan said.

The jeweler gestured toward an ornate table surrounded by cushioned chairs. “Please, make yourself comfortable, young lady.”

Polished wood gleamed as Luo Han set the boxes down. Xiulan settled onto a plush red cushion, appreciating the quality of the furnishings. The jeweler produced a set of delicate tools and a jeweler’s loupe from his sleeve.

“Let us begin.” He opened the first box with reverent care.

The sapphire caught the morning light streaming through the window. The jeweler held it up, examining it through his loupe. “Despite the minor inclusion, this is quite valuable. The color is exceptional—worth at least 3,000 taels.”

He moved to the emerald pendant next. “Remarkable clarity. The setting is pure gold, and the craftsmanship is exquisite. This piece alone would fetch 5,000 taels.”

The ruby gleamed like a drop of blood in his weathered hands. “The cut is masterful. 4,000 taels, easily.”

The diamonds sparkled as he examined them. “These may be small, but their quality is outstanding. 2,500 taels each.”

The jade pieces earned an appreciative nod. “Imperial grade jade. 1,500 taels each.”

He assessed the remaining gold pieces with practiced efficiency. “The additional pieces total approximately 1,000 taels. Altogether, your collection is worth roughly 21,000 taels.”

“Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen stepped forward anxiously. “The emerald pendant and the ruby were birthday gifts from Lord Lin. Perhaps we shouldn’t—”

Xiulan held up her hand to quiet Mei Chen as she considered the appraisal. The maid’s concern was touching, but they had no time for sentimentality.

It wasn’t wise to sell to the first appraiser, but their time today was limited. From what she remembered, the prices seemed reasonable. In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, mortal activities were often summarized, focusing more on the immortal side of things, so she wasn’t exactly sure. Still, the values felt right.

The jeweler, sensing her hesitation, leaned forward. “Miss Lin, given the significance of these pieces and their origin from Lord Lin, I can offer an additional 1,000 taels.”

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed slightly. She nodded. “Agreed.”

“Excellent choice,” the jeweler said, his smile widening. “Would you prefer the payment in cash or a promissory note?”

“A promissory note,” Xiulan replied. “Carrying that much silver would be impractical.”

The jeweler nodded and disappeared behind the beaded curtain. Moments later, an official entered, carrying a contract and a seal. The official’s presence added a layer of legitimacy to the transaction, and the red-ink seal was as binding as a notary’s.

Xiulan signed the contract with a steady hand. The official pressed the seal into the wax, finalizing the deal. The jeweler handed her the promissory note with a respectful bow.

“Thank you,” Xiulan said, tucking the note into her coin purse.

As they left the shop, Luo Han carrying the now-empty boxes, Mei Chen couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “Miss Xiulan, what do you need so much money for?”

Xiulan smiled, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Mei Chen, take us to the Treasure Pavilion.”

Mei Chen’s eyes widened in surprise. “The Treasure Pavilion, Miss Xiulan? Why would you want to go there? It’s not a place for us.”

Xiulan waved off her concern. “Just some business I need to take care of.”

Mei Chen laughed, shaking her head. “Miss Xiulan, you’re so active now. I shouldn’t be surprised by anything you do.”

Xiulan’s smile broadened. She hadn’t been sure if Blackmere had a Treasure Pavilion, but this confirmed it. Most counties in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles did, but not all. They weren’t typical destinations for mortals, so Mei Chen’s confusion was fair.

The Treasure Pavilion dealt almost exclusively with spiritual items and cultivation relics; immortal goods that held little value for ordinary people. Most wouldn’t even know what to do with them.

There wasn’t any clear list for mortals to even know what they could use.

But that wasn’t true for her. Not anymore.

There was one thing she needed immediately to make her first steps.

“Let’s go.”

Negotiating Breeze

The most dangerous moment in any negotiation comes not from what is said but from what remains unspoken. Truth hides in the spaces between words.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

The treasure pavilion stood tall, its imposing structure exactly as Li Mei remembered from the game. The streets thinned out as they approached the walled area surrounding the tower. It made sense; the Lin family was the heart of the festival, and most celebrations centered around their manor house in the city. Still, the place wasn’t deserted. Blackmere’s streets rarely emptied, even during quieter times.

Two guards, clad in polished armor, halted them at the entrance. “Identify yourselves,” one demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Mei Chen stepped forward with confidence. “This is Miss Lin Xiulan, Second Daughter of the Lin Family, accompanied by her attendant and guard.”

The guards exchanged wary glances. “What business do you have here?”

Xiulan straightened, channeling every ounce of regality she could muster. “Has the treasure pavilion forgotten who the county magistrate is? Or have you simply become unmannered?”

The guards stiffened, chastised by her authoritative tone. “Our apologies, Miss Lin,” one said, bowing deeply. They stepped aside, allowing the group to pass as a servant hurried off to fetch the pavilion master.

The courtyard beyond the gates was a serene display of wealth. Ornate lanterns hung from meticulously pruned trees, casting soft colored light over polished stone pathways. Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, rivaling the opulence of her father’s own courtyard in the city.

In one corner, two men in flowing robes played a board game, their concentration intense. Xiulan’s heart skipped a beat. Cultivators. She recognized their aura from countless hours spent in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles. She tensed, but they didn’t even glance her way.

The master arrived shortly after, his robes swishing as he approached. He dismissed the servant with a wave.

“I thought it was a scam,” he muttered to himself before addressing Xiulan directly. “But it truly is the Second Daughter of the Lin Family.” He bowed deeply. “Master Qingfeng at your service.”

Xiulan curtsied with practiced grace. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Qingfeng.”

Despite the throbbing pain in her ankle, Xiulan maintained perfect posture. “Might we conduct business in one of your trade rooms?”

Qingfeng’s eyebrows lifted. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware you’d done business with us before.”

“I know many things, of course.” Xiulan turned to her companions. “Mei Chen will accompany me. Guard Han, please wait in the courtyard.”

He didn’t like that. “Miss Lin, I must protest—”

“The treasure pavilion’s protection is more than adequate.” Xiulan’s tone left no room for argument.

Han’s jaw clenched, but he bowed stiffly and retreated to find a place to wait with the jewelry boxes.

Master Qingfeng nodded and led the way. Inside the pavilion tower, displays of precious artifacts lined the walls. Crystalline pedestals held everything from gleaming weapons to luminescent pills. The polished marble floor reflected the warm light from overhead lanterns, creating an atmosphere of refined opulence.

Qingfeng led them up a curved staircase to a secluded room on the second floor. Plush cushions surrounded a low table, and delicate paintings adorned the walls.

“Since you’re familiar with our ways,” Qingfeng said, “shall I arrange the full tea ceremony?”

Xiulan bowed. “I would be honored.”

After Qingfeng departed, Mei Chen knelt behind Xiulan as she took her seat. “Miss Xiulan, I confess I’m lost.”

“Everything proceeds well.” Xiulan reached for the parchment and ink set on the table. “Don’t worry.”

“That’s good then.” Mei Chen smiled.

Xiulan dipped the brush in ink and began listing items from her mental inventory of the game’s most crucial resources.

A servant glided into the room carrying a lacquered tea tray. The delicate porcelain clinked as she arranged the dishes with practiced precision.

Master Qingfeng entered and settled onto a cushion. “Since Miss Lin isn’t an immortal cultivator, I took the liberty of selecting a more suitable tea.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” Xiulan watched his movements as he began the ceremony.

The rich aroma of cinnamon wafted up from the cup as Qingfeng presented it, the sharp notes tingling in her nose. The first sip rolled across her tongue, smooth and pleasant.

Qingfeng took a drink from his own cup. “What do you think of the selection?”

“Excellent. I’m deeply thankful for the Heaven Grass tea.” Xiulan set her cup down. “I regret not preparing a gift worthy of such an expensive greeting.”

Qingfeng’s eyebrow arched. “The Second Daughter of Lin knows her herbs and medicines well enough to identify the tea by taste?”

Xiulan smiled as tingles spread through her injured temple, ankle, and knuckles. There weren’t many teas fit for healing mortals and immortals, and the description matched. She’d dealt with it enough in the game to be fairly sure. Some of her characters had even carried it around in jars to chug during fights!

She reached up and unwound the bandage from her forehead.

“Miss Xiulan, you’re hurt! You shouldn’t remove that!” Mei Chen protested.

“The healing herb has already taken effect.” Xiulan handed the bandage to her maid. “I’m fine now.”

Mei Chen’s shock turned into a deep bow before Master Qingfeng, her forehead almost touching the floor. “Thank you, pavilion master, for healing the Lin family’s daughter!”

“Very generous, Master Qingfeng.” Xiulan inclined her head.

“I heard rumors about the banquet incident,” Qingfeng said, folding his hands. “After seeing your injuries, proper treatment seemed only appropriate for our guest.”

“If you treat all your guests with such generosity, I would love to become your customer as well.” Xiulan slid her parchment across the table.

Qingfeng chuckled and nodded as he accepted the list.

His smile vanished as his eyes scanned the parchment. Xiulan kept her expression neutral, though her heart thundered against her ribs.

“Most guests of your rank typically request special trinkets or talismans.” Master Qingfeng set the list down. “Perhaps a jade pendant to enhance spiritual awareness?”

“I understand, but these items are what I require.”

“Do you know what these ingredients are?”

“Of course.”

Master Qingfeng tapped each item. “Three measures of blood lotus petals, five portions of thunder root, eight pieces of dawn serpent scales, and one lesser spirit stone.” He leaned forward. “The total cost would be no less than fifty thousand taels.”

A sharp pain shot through Xiulan’s chest. She nodded to Mei Chen, who produced the silk purse. Xiulan extracted the promissory note and slid it across the table. “This is all I possess at present. Twenty-two thousand taels.”

Master Qingfeng stroked his pointed beard as he examined the note. “Perhaps we could substitute the thunder root with twice the amount of Storm Grass? Thunder root proves difficult to source in these parts. That alone would bring this request into your budget.”

“The thunder root is rare and expensive, yes.” Xiulan’s fingers dug into her palm beneath the table. “But someone of your expertise should recognize the purpose of these specific ingredients. Do you intend to sabotage my efforts?”

“Ah.” Master Qingfeng raised his hand. “You’re not seeking ingredients for a Meridian Repair Pill, where storm grass would suffice. You aim to create a Meridian Opening Pill.” He straightened. “Such an endeavor carries grave risks. The recipe demands precise execution. Without proper guidance, the consequences could prove fatal.”

Master Qingfeng set the promissory note down. “Your request intrigues me, Miss Lin, but the funds appear insufficient. Perhaps I could interest you in something more... attainable?”

Xiulan squeezed her hands together beneath the table, the silk of her robes rustling as she leaned forward. “What I propose might seem irregular, but consider accepting partial payment now,” she said. “The treasure pavilion would hold my debt—and a favor to be claimed in the future.”

“A favor from the second daughter?” Qingfeng’s lips twitched.

“My current standing might seem modest, but circumstances change. I’ve secured a hidden benefactor, and my position within the Lin family will soon shift dramatically.”

Qingfeng stroked his pointed beard. The steady drip of water from a nearby fountain punctuated the silence. “What makes you think I’d consider such a trade?”

“You didn’t reach your position as Master of the Treasure Pavilion without recognizing valuable investments.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “Consider this favor an investment that appreciates with time. The longer you wait to collect, the more valuable it becomes.”

Sweat trickled down Xiulan’s back as Qingfeng studied her. Without her status as the magistrate’s daughter, such an obvious scheme would have earned immediate rejection. Even with her lineage, the proposal reeked of deception. If Qingfeng accepted, he’d have to believe she’d found a cultivator patron—rare, but not impossible.

“What restrictions do you place on this favor?” he asked.

Xiulan bit her lip, then nodded. “My consent required for anything that could permanently harm myself or my future. Nothing that harms those I care about. Other than that—no restrictions.”

“An interesting proposition.” Qingfeng drummed his fingers on the table. “Though I wonder, why doesn’t this mysterious benefactor approach the treasure pavilion directly? That would simplify matters considerably.”

Xiulan’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t considered that angle. Her throat felt dry, and she wished she still had some tea left. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with Master Qingfeng.

“Ah... Perhaps it is a test of some sort for me? Maybe he wants me to make progress on my own for some reason?”

Qingfeng hummed noncommittally, his interest waning.

Xiulan's mind raced. “But that won’t affect our relationship in the future,” she added hastily. “This daughter is already very appreciative of the care she has received and would be very grateful for the master to grant her request that solidifies her future. Once I have the needed things, there won’t be the risk mentioned earlier, thanks to my benefactor, so you can be assured of a good result.”

The lie hung in the air between them. Xiulan’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression serene. There wasn’t any benefactor, but she did believe in her ability to succeed.

She had spent countless hours in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles mastering the art of pill-making, even if it was through a virtual interface.

In the game, creating medicine and pills involved a simple process of adding ingredients to boxes, setting quantities, and pressing a button. Thousands of pills could be produced this way, but the quality capped out at 90% even with maximum skill levels.

For a Meridian Opening Pill, which opened a mortal’s meridians to begin cultivation, Li Mei had opted for manual brewing to achieve the highest quality possible. And she had done it a lot—turning mortals into cultivators added them to your character list.

And they could all be active at the same time.

With her time investment in the game, she had built up her very own sect clan. All on her own.

So she knew the recipe by heart: from herb preparation to precise timing. The temperatures were less critical and could be managed with a normal fire, sparing her the need for a specialized pill furnace.

She bit her lip, waiting for Qingfeng’s response. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the faint trickle of water from a nearby fountain. Qingfeng’s gaze remained fixed on her, unyielding and probing.

Master Qingfeng nodded with deliberate slowness. “Your proposal intrigues me, Miss Lin.”

Relief flooded through Xiulan’s body, releasing the tension that had coiled in her muscles. Her heart soared at his acceptance.

“The requested items will take time to gather.” Qingfeng poured another cup of tea. “Shall we arrange delivery to Lin Manor in a week’s time?”

The elation dimmed as reality settled in. Xiulan steadied her breathing. He spoke truth—the items would need time to prepare, and during that period, she’d remain vulnerable to her enemies within her family.

“Miss Lin, perhaps there are other items you require immediately?” Qingfeng’s eyes sparkled. “Something to assist your endeavors while we procure the ingredients?”

Xiulan blinked in surprise at his unexpected offer of additional support. She swallowed hard, considering the possibilities from her game knowledge. “A silver poison sensing needle would prove invaluable.”

“Ah, a prudent choice.” Qingfeng stroked his beard. “Ten thousand taels added to your existing debt.”

“Agreed.” Xiulan smiled. The cost meant little compared to the favor she would owe.

“Excellent. I’ll prepare the contracts and summon an official for proper authentication.” Qingfeng stood and bowed before departing.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Is everything alright?”

Xiulan reached across the table and grasped Mei Chen’s hands. A genuine smile spread across her face. “Everything proceeds perfectly.”

“That’s wonderful, Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen beamed back.

Hidden Gusts

The most dangerous opponent is not the one who strikes with fury but the one who waits with purpose. In the moment when your enemy believes they have won, they become most vulnerable to defeat.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan practically bounced down the treasure pavilion steps, her success fueling each stride with renewed energy. Guard Han trudged behind, arms laden with the stacked jewelry boxes.

“Guard Han, you may return to the manor with these.” Xiulan pointed at the boxes. “We’ll make our way back shortly.”

His jaw clenched. “Miss Lin, I must insist—“

“That wasn’t a request.” Xiulan maintained steady eye contact. “Return to the manor. Now.”

Guard Han’s knuckles whitened around the boxes. “As you command, Miss Lin.” He executed a stiff bow before stalking away.

“Miss Xiulan...” Mei Chen tugged at her sleeve. “Should we antagonize Guard Han like that?”

Xiulan squeezed Mei Chen’s shoulder. “I prefer keeping certain matters private, and I’m not convinced of his discretion.”

Though he has already seen a lot and probably will report everything to Madam Zhang by the time we are back.

Well, there wasn’t much she could do about that. Independence wouldn’t be won in a single battle.

The festival crowd surged through the streets like a living tide. Xiulan navigated through them, recalling the colorful banners and merchant stalls from their earlier journey. Mei Chen clung to her sleeve, pressing closer as the masses thickened around them.

A savory aroma drew Xiulan to a nearby food stall. Steam billowed from bamboo baskets stacked three levels high.

“Two ginger meat buns,” Xiulan said, exchanging a tael for the piping hot treats.

Mei Chen stared at the offered bun. “Miss Xiulan, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Eat. We still have ground to cover.”

They wove through the crowd, savoring the spiced meat and soft dough. Mei Chen took tiny, proper bites while Xiulan devoured hers in four quick mouthfuls.

The weapons shop appeared ahead—exactly where Xiulan remembered passing it on their way out. Its weathered wooden sign creaked in the breeze.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief. “Why would we need to visit such a place?”

Xiulan gave her a serious look. “Because we can’t count on others to keep us safe anymore.”

The shop door groaned open. Heat and the sharp scent of coal rolled out from the back forge. Weapons lined the walls in neat rows, from ornate ceremonial blades to practical fighting steel. The festival sounds faded to a distant murmur.

A burly blacksmith emerged from the forge. “Welcome, noble ladies. How may I assist you today?”

Xiulan strode to the wall of daggers. “We both need a defensive weapon.”

“Me too?” Mei Chen squeaked.

The blacksmith stepped closer, gesturing to the displayed blades. “Each comes complete with a proper sheath, of course.”

“Something easily concealed inside a robe.” Xiulan ran her fingers along the displayed weapons.

The blacksmith nodded and ducked behind the counter. He returned with an assortment of leather sheaths laid across a worn cloth. “These come with adjustable straps. Should work for what you want.”

Xiulan picked through the selection, focusing on the smaller blades suited for Mei Chen. A slim dagger caught her eye, its handle barely longer than her palm.

“Try this one.” Xiulan held the sheathed blade against Mei Chen’s thigh.

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Here?”

“Better to check the fit now than discover issues later.” Xiulan adjusted the straps around Mei Chen’s leg, ignoring her squirming.

For herself, Xiulan selected a longer dagger with an eight-inch blade. She tested the weight and balance; both felt right in her hand.

“Seven taels for the small one, nine for the longer blade.” The blacksmith scratched his beard. “I’ll make it fifteen total for the pair.”

Mei Chen counted out the coins from her purse with trembling fingers.

“Put yours on now.” Xiulan secured her own dagger beneath her sleeve.

“But Miss Xiulan, we’re in public!” Mei Chen clutched the sheathed blade to her chest.

The blacksmith turned toward his forge, giving them privacy. “I see nothing but two proper young ladies making sensible purchases. Everyone should carry protection these days.”

Xiulan tightened the strap around Mei Chen’s thigh, ensuring the small dagger sat snugly against her leg. “There, that should do it,” she said, stepping back to inspect her work. Mei Chen’s cheeks remained flushed, but she nodded, her fingers brushing the hilt of the concealed blade through her robe.

Xiulan checked her own dagger one last time, feeling the reassuring weight beneath her sleeve. Satisfied, she turned to the blacksmith. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The blacksmith inclined his head. “Stay safe, noble ladies.”

They stepped back into the bustling street, the festival crowd humming around them. Xiulan led the way, weaving through the throng. Mei Chen stayed close, her eyes darting nervously.

The manor gates welcomed them back. As they entered, Xiulan felt the weight of the day settle on her shoulders. Productive, yes, but exhausting.

“Mei Chen,” Xiulan said as they walked through the courtyard, “I need to change into something lighter and get some rest.”

“Of course, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen’s voice held a note of relief.

Inside her temporary quarters, Xiulan paused to take in her surroundings. The room was spacious and elegantly furnished. Silk drapes framed the windows, and a plush rug covered the floor. A sense of unease flickered at the edges of her mind. The luxury felt alien.

To both of us.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Xiulan turned to her. “Keep your new blade hidden on you at all times.”

Mei Chen’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Yes, Miss Xiulan.”

Xiulan moved to her bed, slipping her own dagger beneath the pillow. It wasn’t much—and neither of them had any proper training—but it was better than nothing. She changed into a light robe, savoring the feel of the soft fabric against her skin.

Climbing into bed, Xiulan let out a sigh. The mattress cradled her body comfortably. She glanced around the room one last time, taking in the opulence.

“Goodnight, Mei Chen,” she said, her voice already heavy with sleep.

“Goodnight, Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen dimmed the lanterns and quietly left the room.

Xiulan closed her eyes, letting the day’s events fade into the background. The soft rustle of silk and distant festival sounds lulled her into a deep sleep.

“Miss Xiulan! Miss Xiulan!”

Xiulan jolted awake, her heart pounding. Mei Chen hovered over her, eyes wide with urgency. Sunlight filtered through the paper windows, casting soft patterns on the floor.

“What’s going on?” Xiulan rubbed her eyes.

“Your father sent for you,” Mei Chen said, her voice trembling. “He’s angry!”

Xiulan sat up, the weight of the statement sinking in. “Do you know why?”

Another servant, standing near the door, hesitated before speaking. “I heard talk about Miss Xiulan selling her jewels.”

Xiulan sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The mattress’s comfort felt like a distant memory now. “Help me get ready,” she said, resigned.

The servants moved quickly, their hands deft and practiced. They brushed her hair, tied it up, and presented her with several robes to choose from. Xiulan’s fingers lingered over a turquoise robe adorned with black and gold fabric, more formal and ornate than her usual attire.

“That one,” she decided.

As they dressed her, Xiulan’s mind wandered back to her previous life as Li Mei. She had always taken care of herself, never relying on anyone else. The attention felt strange, almost intrusive, except when it came from Mei Chen.

Once the robe was secured, Xiulan retrieved her blade from beneath the pillow and slipped it into her sleeve. She glanced at Mei Chen, who nodded in understanding.

“We better not delay,” Xiulan said, standing tall despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

“Yes, Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen agreed. “It’s best not to make Lord Lin more angry.”

Xiulan stepped out of her quarters, Mei Chen trailing closely behind. The morning air felt crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming jasmine. They navigated through the winding corridors of the city manor, the intricate woodwork and ornate tapestries reflecting her family’s wealth and status.

As they approached the main hall leading to Lord Lin’s quarters, two familiar figures moved to block their path. Lin Qian and Lin Fei glared at her, exuding an air of smug superiority. Fei hid her face behind a delicate silk fan, likely concealing the bruises from their last encounter. Qian’s sneer twisted her features into an ugly mask of disdain.

“Well, well,” Qian began, her voice dripping with mockery. “We knew you were a tramp, Xiulan, but even you should know better than to defile Father’s generosity.”

Xiulan’s jaw tightened, but she kept her gaze steady. She had no time for their petty provocations. Without a word, she moved to pass them, her steps deliberate and unyielding.

Qian’s sneer faltered as Xiulan brushed past. “Don’t you dare ignore me!” Qian snapped, reaching out.

Xiulan stopped and turned, her eyes locking onto Qian’s. “Are you looking for another beating?” she asked, her voice cold and unwavering.

Qian froze, her hand hovering in mid-air. The memory of their last confrontation hung between them like a specter. Fei grabbed Qian’s arm, pulling her back.

“Come on, Sister,” Fei muttered, her voice muffled by the fan. “Mother and Father will cut her down. She’s not worth looking at.”

Her half-sisters retreated, their presence lingering like a bad odor. Xiulan watched them go, then resumed her path toward Lord Lin’s quarters. Mei Chen followed, her steps quickening to keep pace.

“Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen whispered once they were out of earshot. “I don’t know how you do it. They’ve always been terrifying.”

Xiulan glanced at her maid, offering a reassuring smile. “Things will be alright.” Hopefully, that didn’t turn out to be a lie.

They approached the grand hall, their footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. The vast space, usually bustling with activity, now felt eerily silent. Only a few servants lingered at the edges, their eyes downcast. This wasn’t a public matter; it was personal.

Lord Lin Tian and Madam Zhang sat at the magistrate dais, their expressions stark contrasts. Lord Lin’s face was stern, while Madam Zhang’s eyes gleamed with barely contained glee. Xiulan’s anxiety simmered beneath her calm exterior, but she felt confident in her understanding of the situation.

She bowed deeply, her voice steady. “The Second Daughter of the Lin Family greets her honored father and mother.”

Madam Zhang’s smile twisted into something more sinister. “How dare you honor your father after what you have done?”

Xiulan straightened, feigning confusion. “What have I done, Mother?”

Lord Lin waved his hand, and Guard Luo Han entered, carrying her jewelry boxes from the day before. He set them down with a thud, opening each one to reveal their emptiness. Only a single silver necklace and earring set remained.

Xiulan’s thoughts sharpened. He’s definitely a spy for Zhang.

Lord Lin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Explain this, Xiulan. Did you sell all your jewels?”

Xiulan met her father’s gaze, her mind racing through possible responses. She had anticipated this confrontation but hadn’t expected it so soon. The weight of the family’s scrutiny pressed down on her, but she stood firm.

“Father,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I did sell some of my jewels.”

Madam Zhang’s eyes narrowed. “Some? It looks like you sold almost everything. Including the precious gifts your father presented you.”

Xiulan stood her ground, meeting her father’s stern gaze. “I had no choice.”

Lord Lin’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

She took a deep breath. “I had no funds to take care of my purchases.”

Madam Zhang’s smile widened as she hid her face behind her ornate fan, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Lord Lin’s voice grew colder. “Why are you so incapable of handling your own funds that you had to sell the birthday gifts I gave you?”

Xiulan straightened, her resolve hardening. “Father, my allowance is only five taels per month.”

The hall had been quiet before, but now the silence was so profound that Xiulan could almost hear the collective intake of breath. Five taels a month was less than a destitute farmer’s earnings and a pittance for a noble family’s daughter. The disparity was glaring.

Lord Lin’s expression darkened. “Just last year, I approved an increase in your allowance to four hundred taels. What do you mean that you have only been receiving five?”

Xiulan bowed deeply, her voice unwavering. “My own ledger can confirm it. I’ve only received five taels and never more, the amount being the same since I was a child.”

Her father turned his piercing gaze toward Madam Zhang. The smug smile vanished from her face as if wiped clean by an invisible hand.

“Explain this immediately.” Lord Lin’s words cut through the silence. “We discussed raising the allowance just recently.”

Xiulan watched Madam Zhang squirm under Lord Lin’s scrutiny. The usually composed woman opened and closed her mouth several times, completely at a loss for words.

"How dare you show such blatant favoritism when managing our family’s finances falls under your duties?” Lord Lin’s hands clenched in anger.

Perfect opening. Xiulan bowed deeply, keeping her eyes lowered. “Honored Father, please understand my reasoning for selling the jewels. Mother likely made an honest mistake in the accounting.”

Lord Lin studied her with calculating eyes, his stern features softening slightly.

“Perhaps,” Xiulan continued, maintaining her respectful pose, “Father could grant me the five thousand taels I would have received over the past year? It would allow me to replenish my jewels and manage my affairs properly.”

“Five thousand?” Lord Lin scoffed. “That’s nowhere near enough to make up for this.” He fixed his steely gaze on Madam Zhang. “You will compensate her for all missed allowances since she turned ten.”

“Thirty-eight thousand taels?” Madam Zhang sputtered, face paling. “The family budget for the month would—“

“Then spend less on yourself and your daughters!” Lord Lin slammed his hand against the armrest. “You’ve indulged for so long you’ve forgotten that your duty is to all members of this house!”

He looked at Xiulan and waved her off. “Things will be taken care of. That is all I wished to discuss with you.”

Xiulan bowed once more. “Thank you for your forbearance and wisdom, Honored Father.”

As she retreated from the hall, Xiulan felt Madam Zhang’s hateful stare burning into her back.

Poisonous Zephyr

In the game of politics, pawns rarely recognize they are pawns. The wisest player is often the one who appears to be playing a different game entirely.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Xiulan strode down the corridor toward her quarters, each step lighter than before. Mei Chen practically bounced beside her.

“This is wonderful news, Miss Xiulan! Your wardrobe needs attention, and now we can restore your collection of—“

“Let’s not rush to spend everything.” Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. If I’d waited one more day, I could have bought the ingredients without owing that favor to Master Qingfeng.

But maybe this was fine, too. Even if she owed a favor, that was a connection. The treasure pavilion was ubiquitous and having access to them would be critical for just about any pursuit she followed.

A familiar figure appeared ahead in the corridor. Zhang Wei shuffled along, keeping his head down. Xiulan rushed forward, her heart racing as she spotted the purple-yellow marks on his face.

“Who did this?” Xiulan gripped his shoulders, examining the bruises.

“It’s nothing.” Zhang Wei attempted a weak laugh. “Just got hurt a little.”

The forced cheerfulness in his voice made her stomach twist. Madam Zhang. Or the sisters. They’re taking their anger out on him.

Xiulan pressed her fingers to her forehead, exhaling slowly. “You should spend time in my courtyard, Little Brother. Come visit your older sister more often.”

“But aren’t we returning to the estate soon?” Zhang Wei kicked at the floor. “The festival’s over...”

“We’ll be departing in a few days,” Mei Chen said quietly.

The unspoken truth hung heavy. Being back at the estate meant Xiulan’s return to the servant quarters, away from her current comfortable chambers.

One problem at a time. Xiulan squeezed Zhang Wei’s shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need help, understand?”

She turned to Mei Chen. “Is it time for lunch? I’m famished.” She flashed a smile toward Zhang Wei. “Would you like to eat with me, Little Brother?”

Zhang Wei bounced on his heels. “Yes! Can we eat in your room?”

Xiulan led them to her quarters, where servants bustled about, already setting a low table with gleaming dishes and cutlery. Mei Chen worked methodically in the corner, organizing empty jewelry boxes into neat stacks.

“And then the fire-breathers shot flames so high!” Zhang Wei sprawled on a cushion, gesturing wildly. “The crowd went wild when they made dragon shapes!”

Xiulan smiled as he gave her a very in-depth version of the festival day.

The aroma of braised duck and ginger filled the room as servants carried in dishes. Steam rose from bowls of fragrant rice and vegetables in oyster sauce. This is different. According to her memories, meals usually comprised plain rice and simple vegetables.

Mei Chen beamed at the spread while maintaining a respectful distance. The joy in her eyes sparked an idea in Xiulan’s mind.

“Mei Chen, join us.”

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t possibly—“

“Sister’s right!” Zhang Wei patted the cushion beside him. “There’s plenty!”

The other servants stiffened, exchanging disapproving glances as they arranged the last dishes.

“Please.” Xiulan gestured to the cushion. “I insist.”

Zhang Wei reached for a piece of duck, but Xiulan caught his wrist. He blinked at her in confusion.

Xiulan pulled her silver poison-sensing needle from her sleeve. The polished metal caught the light streaming through the open windows.

“What’s that?” Zhang Wei leaned forward, squinting at the thin implement.

“Just a precaution.” Xiulan dipped the needle into the duck first, watching for any reaction. The silver remained bright and untarnished. She moved methodically through each dish: the vegetables, the rice, the sauce. The needle stayed pristine through each test.

The soup broth remained. Steam curled invitingly from the ceramic bowl as Xiulan lowered the needle. The moment it touched the liquid, black smoke coiled up from the silver surface and the metal darkened to an oily sheen.

Mei Chen clapped both hands over her mouth. “Miss Xiulan!”

“What happened to it?” Zhang Wei reached for the needle, but Xiulan pulled it away.

“This meal is poisoned.” Xiulan’s words cut through the room like a blade.

The servants froze mid-motion—one still holding a water pitcher, another adjusting place settings. Their faces drained of color.

Really? Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. I just left Father’s hall. They couldn’t even wait a full day before trying to kill me again?

Xiulan stood in one fluid motion. “Mei Chen, inform Father immediately.”

“You—“ She pointed at a servant near the door. “Fetch Physician Jin Wei.”

The servants shifted nervously as Xiulan planted herself between them and the evidence. No tampering allowed.

Rapid footsteps echoed through the corridor minutes later. Lord Lin burst into the room, his face flushed red and eyes wide with panic. His gaze darted past Xiulan, landing squarely on Zhang Wei.

“What’s happened to my son?” he demanded, his voice trembling beneath the harshness.

Xiulan bowed deeply. “Honorable Father—”

“Enough! Speak plainly,” Lord Lin interrupted, his words a command more than a question, his eyes never leaving Zhang Wei. “Why was he brought here?”

Xiulan straightened, her voice steady. “The soup was poisoned.”

The air seemed to freeze between them. Lord Lin’s expression shifted from anger to fear, his face pale as he turned his gaze to Zhang Wei.

She could tell exactly what he was thinking, and it… hurt. His second son had been put at risk.

“And how exactly would you know this?” Lord Lin’s eyes narrowed at her.

Before Xiulan could respond, Jin Wei swept into the room. His robes rustled as he offered a quick bow.

“Examine this soup.” Lord Lin jabbed a finger toward the steaming bowl. “My daughter claims it’s poisoned.”

There it is. Xiulan suppressed an eye roll. Heaven forbid he take my word for it or let me explain. At least this saved her from revealing the silver needle tucked safely in her sleeve.

Jin Wei lifted the bowl, swirling the liquid beneath his nose. He dipped a finger into the broth and touched it to his tongue. After a moment, he lowered the bowl and bowed to Lord Lin.

“My lord, the soup contains a powerful emetic. While not immediately lethal, it would cause severe illness lasting several days.”

Lord Lin whirled toward the servants. “Who prepared this meal?”

The servants huddled together, heads bowed. Xiulan gripped Zhang Wei’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Mei Chen pressed against her side, trembling.

“Speak!” Lord Lin’s roar echoed off the walls.

A young servant dropped to her knees. “This lowly one helped prepare the soup, my lord.”

“And?” Lord Lin loomed over her.

“Second Miss... Second Miss Lin Fei gave me a packet.” The servant pressed her forehead to the floor. “She said it would help Miss Xiulan’s digestion after her injuries.”

Of course she did. Xiulan tightened her grip on Zhang Wei’s shoulders.

“Guards!” Lord Lin’s face darkened to purple. “Take this wretch to the courtyard and give her fifty lashes!”

The servant wailed as guards dragged her away. Zhang Wei flinched beneath Xiulan’s hands. Xiulan bit her lip. That was almost certainly a death sentence.

Xiulan swallowed hard. “Father?”

“What is it?” Lord Lin snapped.

“This daughter requests permission to return to the Lin estate early, along with Brother Wei.” Xiulan kept her tone steady despite the churning in her stomach.

Lord Lin rubbed his temples. “Yes, yes, that is a good idea. Things have been too chaotic. That could restore balance.”

The carriage rocked gently as Xiulan settled onto the cushioned seat. Fresh straw crackled beneath the wheels while servants loaded the supply wagon behind them. Through the open window, the spring breeze carried hints of wood smoke and spices from the city’s cooking fires.

“And then we can practice calligraphy together!” Zhang Wei said, bouncing on his seat across from her. “Sister Xiulan always has the best brushstrokes. Don’t you think so, Mei Chen?”

“Young Master speaks true.” Mei Chen sat primly beside Xiulan, smoothing her simple gray dress. “Miss Xiulan’s characters flow like silk.”

A genuine smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips as she watched the preparations through the window. The sound of marching boots drew her attention to Captain Bai Chen approaching the carriage in his polished armor.

“Honored Second Daughter.” Bai Chen bowed crisply. “I regret I cannot escort you personally, but twenty of our finest guards will ensure your safety.”

Xiulan leaned forward. “Tell me, captain, will they truly keep us safe? Sometimes, the greatest dangers are not those that lurk outside.”

Bai Chen straightened, muscles tensing beneath his armor. He pressed his fist to his chest in a formal salute. “I selected each guard myself. Their loyalty lies with the Lin family above all else. You have my word.”

Loyalty means little if Madam Zhang’s silver means more. Xiulan inclined her head. “Thank you for your diligence, captain.”

The city streets parted before their procession like water around stones. Merchants paused their haggling, children stopped their games, all bowing as the Lin family carriage passed. The gates loomed ahead, iron-bound wood groaning as they swung wide.

Beyond the walls, the countryside sprawled in spring’s glory.

“The estate has the best view of the valley.” Zhang Wei pressed against the window. “From the east tower, you can see all the way to…“

Xiulan half-listened to her brother’s excited chatter, studying the terrain instead. The game never showed this route in detail, and her ride through it days prior had been done in an injured haze. She idly traced the concealed dagger in her sleeve.

The sun drew lazy arcs across the sky as their carriage rolled steadily onward. Xiulan calculated the distance in her mind—a day’s journey at minimum, likely stretching into tomorrow. They’d need to make camp tonight, just as they had on their initial journey to Blackmere.

The thought of their previous travel sparked suspicion in her mind. The timing of their carriage accident seemed too convenient. Madam Zhang or those vipers she calls daughters must have had something to do with it. But proof was in short supply, especially since someone had ordered the wreckage burned rather than salvaged.

Destroying evidence of tampering, perhaps? The driver’s death eliminated one witness, though Xiulan wondered if his demise had truly been accidental. A dead man couldn’t reveal who had paid him to sabotage the carriage.

Although, the bloody memory of the man dangling in the branches was enough to reconsider that. Maybe she was just grasping at straws.

The entire situation was a convoluted mess. A deep sigh escaped her lips before she could catch it.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen leaned forward. “Are you unwell?”

“Just tired.” Xiulan massaged her temples. “Recent events have given me much to consider.”

“Those monsters deserved everything you gave them!” Zhang Wei punched the air triumphantly.

Xiulan shot him a sharp look. “Careful with such words, Little Brother. The wrong ears could bring dire consequences.”

Zhang Wei deflated slightly but squared his shoulders. “I’ll be more careful. But I want to help fight too!”

“I know you will.” Xiulan reached across to ruffle his dark hair.

“Sister!” Zhang Wei ducked away from her hand. “Stop that!”

The carriage wheels crunched along the mountain path as they ascended through dense forest. A plateau waited at the summit, followed by more woodland and a meandering stream that would guide them home. The Lin family estate sprawled across the mountainside like a small city, with grand pavilions for Lord Lin, Madam Zhang, and Lin Jin dominating the grounds.

Everyone has their own space except me. Xiulan drummed her fingers against the window frame.

Her sisters’ private courtyards, the countless guest halls, even the army of servants with their designated quarters filled the compound. Mother’s tiny, neglected courtyard tucked away in a corner sparked a fresh wave of indignation. Even Zhang Wei claimed more space than Xiulan.

That needs to change immediately. Privacy would be essential for her plans.

“Halt!” A shout pierced the afternoon quiet. The carriage lurched to a stop.

“What’s happening?” Mei Chen gripped the seat cushion.

“Bandits?” Zhang Wei pressed his face against the window. “Will the guards fight them? I want to see—“

“Sit down.” Xiulan pulled him back by his collar and peered outside.

A cluster of ragged men blocked the road, dirt and desperation clinging to their faces even as Lin guards advanced with hands on their weapons. They refused to move.

Sheltering Breeze

True wisdom reveals itself not in grand gestures but in quiet moments of doubt. It is in questioning our own nature that we discover our truest path.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

A guard rushed past the carriage, his armor clinking with each hurried step. “Stay inside! It’s safer here,” he barked, not even sparing a glance back.

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. Something felt off. The strangers didn’t move like bandits. Their postures slumped with exhaustion, not aggression. Faces gaunt and clothes tattered, they looked more like beggars than threats.

“Miss Xiulan, please stay inside,” Mei Chen pleaded, clutching Zhang Wei’s arm.

Xiulan shook her head. “Hold on to Little Brother and keep him safe.” She met Mei Chen’s worried gaze, conveying a silent promise. “I’ll handle this.”

Mei Chen hesitated but nodded, pulling Zhang Wei closer. “Be careful.”

Xiulan stepped out of the carriage, the cool air biting against her skin. She moved toward the front, each step calculated and steady. The guards shouted, dragging some of the ragged men to the ground, treating them like animals.

“What’s going on here?” Xiulan’s voice cut through the commotion.

The guards froze, eyes wide with shock. The ragged men dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed to the dirt. “Mercy, noble lady,” they begged in unison.

The lead guard straightened, his face a mask of irritation. “Miss Lin, please return to the carriage. We’ll deal with them quickly.”

Xiulan’s gaze hardened. “What is your name to command a daughter of the Lin family’s main house?”

Silence stretched as the guard’s confidence faltered. He swallowed hard but said nothing.

“Release them,” Xiulan ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

The guards hesitated before obeying, letting go of the men who scrambled to join their companions in kowtowing.

“Explain yourselves,” Xiulan demanded, eyes scanning the desperate faces in front of her.

One man lifted his head slightly. “May I speak, noble lady?”

“Granted,” Xiulan replied, crossing her arms.

The man raised his head slightly, revealing deep-set eyes and weathered skin. “We’re woodsmen from the eastern forests near the Lin Estate, noble lady. Three days past, our landclaim caught fire.”

“A fire?” Xiulan studied the group more carefully now. Soot still stained their clothes and skin.

“Yes, my lady. The landlord showed no mercy. Evicted us straight away.” The man’s voice cracked. “We haven’t eaten proper since then.”

Another woodsman coughed, drawing Xiulan’s attention to his bandaged arm. Burns peeked out from beneath the dirty wrappings.

“Why not head to Blackmere City?” Xiulan frowned. “It’s not far.”

The spokesman gestured to his companions. “Three of us suffered burns in the fire. We’ve only managed this distance in three days, and the city...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Has no one stopped to help you?” Xiulan glanced down the road. It was empty except for her group, but merchant caravans and official carriages would be passing regularly on the route.

“They either mistake us for bandits or...” The man’s shoulders slumped. “Most folk don’t want to dirty their hands with beggars.”

Xiulan understood the cruel logic. These men, covered in dirt and soot, represented everything the wealthy travelers feared or despised. The nobles wouldn’t risk their reputation by associating with commoners, while merchants wouldn’t risk their profits on charity.

Xiulan frowned at the woodsmen’s tale. Something didn’t add up. The magistrate’s office maintained strict protocols for handling displaced citizens, especially after disasters. Even a simple messenger should have reported this to her father or someone in charge days ago.

“We’ll stop here and provide aid,” Xiulan announced, turning to the guard leader.

The guard straightened his back. “Miss Lin, we cannot delay. Lord Lin and Captain Bai gave explicit orders to escort you and Young Master Wei directly to the manor.”

Xiulan surveyed the clearing. The mountain pass opened wide here, creating a natural rest stop between the towering cliffs. Scattered stones formed rough circles around blackened patches of earth—remnants of previous campfires. Crude lean-tos made from branches and leaves dotted the perimeter.

“We’d need to make camp soon anyway.” Xiulan gestured at the setting sun. “This spot seems as good as any.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “Miss Lin, our orders—“

“Would you have the Lin family give up their duties to these people?” Xiulan straightened her spine. “Do you intend to cost my father further face?”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the guards. Several nodded, their rigid postures softening.

“We’re barely a day from security.” Xiulan pressed her advantage. “Our supplies can easily stretch to help these men. I’m not asking you to escort them back to the city. Just share what we can spare.”

The guard leader’s shoulders sagged. He dropped into a deep bow. “You speak wisely, Miss Lin. We’ll make camp here.” He turned to his men. “Set up the perimeter! Get fires started!”

The guards sprang into action, unloading supplies from the convoy with practiced efficiency. Xiulan looked to the woodsmen and pointed to a cleared space off the main road. “Set up camp there. Help each other get settled.”

The men shuffled toward the indicated spot, supporting their injured companions. The convoy wagons rolled off the path, their wheels crunching against loose gravel.

“Sister Xiulan!” Zhang Wei bounced on his heels next to the carriage. “Can I sleep here tonight? I’ll protect our noble transport!”

Xiulan suppressed a laugh at his enthusiasm. “The carriage is yours to defend.”

“Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen stepped closer, wringing her hands. “Are you certain about this?”

“Look at them.” Xiulan nodded toward the group. “No weapons, and those burns are real enough. They need help, not suspicion.”

“Of course.” Mei Chen bowed slightly.

“Fetch the burn medicine from our supplies. The sooner we treat their injuries, the better.”

The guards erected Xiulan’s tent in a grassy clearing near a stand of trees. The canvas stretched taut, dwarfing the other shelters sprouting around the camp. Small fires flickered to life but did little to ward off the growing chill.

“...weather’s turning sour,” a guard muttered nearby.

“Could get nasty if the wind picks up,” another responded.

Xiulan lifted her gaze to the darkening sky. Heavy clouds rolled in from the west, promising an unwelcome spring shower. The threatening clouds didn’t burst, though, leaving an overcast evening sky that transformed into a vivid pink.

The aroma of cooking food wafted through the camp as guards distributed portions to the grateful woodsmen. Xiulan watched from her carriage as the men devoured their meals with desperate intensity, scooping rice and vegetables into their mouths.

“Sister Xiulan, try this!” Zhang Wei pushed a steaming bowl toward her. “The cook made extra dumplings for us.”

Xiulan accepted the bowl. A quick test with her needle confirmed it was safe, not that she thought Zhang Wei would poison her or there was much of a risk at this point, but building the habit would be wise.

The dumplings tasted good—perfectly spiced pork wrapped in soft folds. She glanced at Zhang Wei, who stuffed two dumplings into his mouth at once.

It didn’t take long for her to finish her meal.

“Mei Chen.” Xiulan set down her empty bowl. “I need you to speak with the woodsmen.”

Mei Chen blinked. “Miss?”

“Find out about their landclaim, their landlord—anything they’ll share.” Xiulan adjusted her sitting position on the carriage step. “They might tell you more than they’d tell me.”

“But Miss Xiulan, shouldn’t you—“

“They won’t speak freely to a noble.” Xiulan smiled at her maid’s confusion. “You’re closer to their station. They’ll trust you.”

Understanding dawned on Mei Chen’s face. “I’ll take care of it, miss.” She nodded and headed toward the group of men.

“Why do you want to know about them, Sister?” Zhang Wei licked dumpling sauce from his fingers.

“The magistrate should have helped them already.” Xiulan frowned at the makeshift camp. “Aid for displaced citizens is law, not charity. Something doesn’t add up.”

“You’re so smart, Sister!” Zhang Wei bounced in his seat. “You helped these people, and now you’re going to find out what really happened!”

Xiulan reached out and tousled Zhang Wei’s hair. He ducked away with a playful squeal.

“Maybe we’ll learn something useful.” She massaged her temple as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Though I need to rest now. The day has been long.”

“Are you okay?” Zhang Wei straightened up, concern etched across his face.

“Just tired. I’ll retire to my tent.” Xiulan stood carefully, steadying herself against the carriage. “Stay with the guards, okay?”

He nodded, but she could feel his eyes on her back as she walked off.

The interior of her tent provided blessed quiet. Xiulan sank onto the portable bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling as the fabric rippled softly in the evening breeze.

A strange disconnect settled over her. The old Xiulan would have ignored the woodcutters and cowered before the guard’s authority. Yet here she was, questioning everything, helping strangers, and taking charge.

Zhang Wei and Mei Chen seemed to accept the changes without question. They followed her lead, trusted her judgment. But were these actions truly her own? As Li Mei, she had played Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles cautiously, rarely taking risks. Even in the game world, she had stayed in her comfort zone.

Yet these decisive actions felt right. Natural. As if Xiulan had always wanted to act this way but couldn’t break free from her constraints. Was she simply enabling Xiulan’s true nature to emerge?

Li Mei or Lin Xiulan?

The thought struck like lightning.

The line between them blurred more each day.

Her identity stretched thin between two lives, two sets of memories, two different souls. She pressed her palms against her eyes.

The question echoed through her mind, impossible to answer:

Who was she?

Curious Airs

Change begins not with grand gestures but with small acts of defiance. Each step forward, no matter how modest, shifts the balance of power.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Morning sunlight filtered through the tent’s canvas as Mei Chen helped Xiulan into her emerald silk robe. The fabric whispered against Xiulan’s skin while skilled fingers secured each tie and smoothed each fold.

“The guards spoke with the woodsmen last night,” Mei Chen said, adjusting the robe’s collar. “They seemed dismissive at first, but once they learned everyone hailed from Blackmere, they seemed to get along.”

“That should make today’s work simpler.” Xiulan stood still as Mei Chen continued her ministrations.

“They exchanged family names, too.” Mei Chen secured the final tie. “Guard Liu discovered he shared great-grandparents with one of the woodsmen. Three others found similar connections.”

Xiulan processed that information. Most Blackmere citizens lived and died within the county borders, their roots stretching back generations. These unexpected family ties weren’t strange at all.

Mei Chen retrieved the ornate dagger from its silk wrapping. Xiulan secured it beneath the flowing sleeve of her robe, testing the draw before being satisfied.

“Do you have yours?” Xiulan asked.

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen touched her thigh briefly, ducking her head.

“Thank you, Mei Chen.” Xiulan stepped closer. “Your dedication means more than you know.”

Tears welled in Mei Chen’s eyes. Xiulan pulled her into a quick embrace, feeling the young maid’s shoulders shake slightly before they separated.

The tent’s canvas rustled behind Xiulan as servants broke down the temporary shelter. Morning dew sparkled on grass crushed flat from their overnight camp. Mei Chen fell into step beside her as they approached the guard leader, who stood reviewing supply lists near the convoy wagons.

“The injured men will travel in the supply wagon,” Xiulan said. “The others will accompany us on foot to Lin Manor.”

The guard’s shoulders stiffened. “Miss Lin, with respect, additional travelers would slow our progress significantly.”

“We’ll reach the manor before nightfall regardless.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “These are our people. Blackmere takes care of its own.”

His jaw worked as he glanced between the woodsmen and their depleted supply wagon. “The roads are treacherous, Miss Lin.”

“All the more reason not to leave injured men to fend for themselves.”

The guard’s resistance crumbled. He bowed deeply. “Your wisdom and generosity bring honor to the Lin family, Miss Lin.”

“Thank you, Miss Lin!” One of the woodsmen dropped to his knees. “We’ll never forget this kindness.”

“Please, stand.” Xiulan gestured for him to rise. “There’s no need for such formality today.”

She turned toward their carriage, Mei Chen matching her measured stride across the dewy grass.

It took longer than she expected for them to get moving, and by the time the convoy lurched forward, the late morning sun was already beaming. Through the carriage window, Xiulan studied the supply wagon where injured woodsmen rested on hastily arranged bedding. Their healthier companions trudged ahead, surrounded by alert guards who maintained a protective formation around the expanded group.

Something about the woodsmen being turned away and denied aid prickled. The estate’s standard operating procedures included basic care for citizens in need—it protected both the family’s reputation and their economic interests. Even the most junior servant understood the principle.

No servant would risk Father’s face like that. They’d sooner cut off their own hand.

The carriage wheels bumped over a rut, jostling Xiulan from her musings. The landlord’s actions made even less sense. Forsaking reliable tenants destroyed steady income streams. If the men had been provided time, they would have rebuilt, surely.

So why evict and run them off? Even the greediest official understood basic economics.

Somehow, the landlord expected to make more from an unworked plot than an occupied one. No, there had to be more to it.

Was it just some personal grudge or squabble?

Xiulan tapped her fingers against the lacquered windowsill. The treasure pavilion’s package wouldn’t arrive for days—plenty of time to investigate the mystery. At minimum, she could ensure the men received proper care and transport to the city.

Father values face above all else. A daughter who preserves it becomes invaluable, and one who ruins it will be scorned.

The gentle rumble of the carriage reminded her of the cramped bus rides to her retail job, though the smell of leather and polished wood proved far more pleasant than diesel fumes and stale coffee.

Life in the city slum taught her valuable lessons about survival. Lin Qian and Lin Fei operated like the neighborhood bullies who preyed on perceived weakness, backed by their mother’s authority, just as those thugs had hidden behind gang affiliations.

The old Xiulan submitted to their demands, accepting scraps of dignity while they flourished under Madam Zhang’s favoritism.

That meek acceptance was over.

Memories of her past life stabbed through Xiulan’s thoughts like shards of broken glass. She focused instead on Zhang Wei, sprawled across the carriage seat opposite her. His small chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber, dark hair tousled across his forehead.

“Young Master Wei entertained the guards at the campfire until the moon reached its peak,” Mei Chen whispered from beside Xiulan, fighting back an amused smile. “The stories grew quite animated near the end.”

“Let him rest.” Xiulan kept her voice soft. “He deserves some peace.”

The carriage rocked gently as Xiulan studied her sleeping brother. Strange how quickly affection had bloomed where Li Mei’s life held only emptiness. She had no siblings. Her parents manifested as harsh words and slammed doors, their presence marked by absence until she fled to college on borrowed dreams.

Art history had seemed like such a romantic choice then. No one bothered to mention how useless that degree would prove in the real world. Her professors smiled and nodded, content to let her drift toward inevitable disappointment.

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen, who sat primly beside her organizing correspondence. The young maid’s dedication shone like a guiding star. Her new world had given her something precious: people worth protecting.

A week had passed since she opened her eyes in a new body. In that brief time, she had grown bonds stronger than anything she had in twenty-four years of her previous life.

Maybe it was just Xiulan’s influence, but she didn’t care. She wanted it.

The thought both comforted and terrified her.

Because she wasn’t going to show any mercy to those who threatened them.

The gates of the Lin Family Estate loomed overhead as the convoy passed beneath their shadow. Xiulan stepped down from the carriage onto the cobblestones, steadying Zhang Wei as he stumbled sleepily beside her. Mei Chen followed close behind.

Servants scattered across the courtyard like startled birds, unprepared for their early return. A senior steward stood frozen near the main hall, clutching his ledger.

“Steward.” Xiulan strode toward him with purpose. “Please arrange quarters in the low guest courtyard for our injured woodsmen. They require medical attention and proper meals.”

The steward blinked rapidly. “I... yes, Miss Lin. At once.”

Guards began unloading supplies and helping the wounded men when a commotion at the gate to the inner pavilion drew Xiulan’s attention. Fresh hoofbeats echoed across the stones as another group of guards entered, surrounding a familiar figure.

Ice spread through Xiulan’s chest. Lin Jin sat atop his mount, every inch the entitled heir in his fine silk robes. His gaze swept over the woodsmen with naked revulsion before landing on Zhang Wei.

Xiulan gripped Zhang Wei’s shoulders, drawing him close. Her younger brother trembled beneath her touch.

“Zhang Wei.” Lin Jin’s voice cut through the bustling courtyard. “Why do you allow such filth to touch you? Come—your studies await.”

Zhang Wei’s shoulders slumped. The confident boy from their journey vanished, replaced by a shell that made Xiulan’s chest ache. He stepped away from her with downcast eyes.

“Go on.” Xiulan squeezed his arm. “Your studies are important.”

Lin Jin smirked from atop his mount. “How predictable. Trash collecting more trash.” He gestured at the injured woodsmen. “Keep your refuse contained, Sister. We wouldn’t want the estate to become... sullied.”

“Of course, Elder Brother Jin.” Xiulan bowed with precise formality. “I’ll watch everything very carefully.”

Lin Jin studied her for a moment before dismissing her with a wave. He turned his horse, Zhang Wei trailing behind the horses like a lost puppy.

The urge to flee the courtyard’s suffocating atmosphere overwhelmed her. Xiulan strode toward the eastern wing, Mei Chen’s footsteps echoing behind her on the cobblestones.

Her next steps were clear: she needed to check her room and then greet her mother. Her actual mother, not the witch who held the position of family matriarch.

As they moved along the paths between the various walled courtyards, the lavish decor began to fade.

Intricately carved pillars and silk draperies gave way to plain wooden beams and simple paper lanterns. The immaculate and ornate trappings of the estate fell away, revealing a neatly cleaned and cared-for but modest setting.

Servants bustled quietly, their gazes fixed on the ground. Guests never saw the back courtyards; the finery wasn’t wasted on the house’s minor members or staff. The contrast was a stark and precarious reminder of their place.

A frustrated breath escaped her lips. The inequality pressed heavier, amplifying her resolve.

Reaching her quarters, she pushed the door open and paused. It was worse than she remembered: a cramped room with a double bunk bed that left little space to move. Mei Chen’s bunk occupied the top. Despite the obvious care that had gone into the space, it was hard not to compare it to the room she’d occupied during the festival in Blackmere.

Sharing a room with Mei Chen didn’t bother her. Actually, for Li Mei, the space was perfect. If it had been offered to her before she’d been transmigrated, along with a nice roommate like Mei Chen, she would have happily accepted in a heartbeat.

But for someone of Xiulan’s status, it was wholly inappropriate. A calculated attack on her reputation and authority.

“Mei Chen,” she said, turning to face her maid.

“Yes, miss?” Mei Chen replied, her eyes attentive.

“Please find the household manager and instruct him to meet me at Mother’s courtyard immediately.”

Mei Chen bowed slightly. “Right away, miss.” Without hesitation, she headed back down the corridor, her footsteps fading into the quiet.

Xiulan surveyed her modest quarters, her eyes taking in the neatly arranged belongings. Everything remained untouched; Mei Chen had maintained the space meticulously. A faint smile curved her lips. At least some things were reliable.

She lowered herself onto the bottom bunk, feeling the hard mattress beneath her. Just like a Cinderella story. Except there was no fairy godmother or prince waiting in the wings. She would have to handle matters herself.

With a determined sigh, she stood up. “No use sitting around,” she murmured. Time to keep things moving.

She headed toward her mother’s courtyard. The path wasn’t far—her mother’s walled space lay adjacent to the servants’ area in the eastern section of the estate. As she walked, Xiulan took her time, eyes keenly appraising the surroundings. Servants passed by, bowing respectfully. The gestures felt odd, unfamiliar.

Then it struck her: she was dressed appropriately for her position now. The fine garments lent her an air of authority she hadn’t realized she lacked. Before, she’d often worn attire that was less... fitting. Appearances held power.

The outfits borrowed from Sister Suyin had served well during the festival, but she would need her own wardrobe. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so reluctant to let Mei Chen spend the taels Father had granted.

Although acquiring new attire could be handled within the estate, it would be a more limited selection or more expensive than during a trip to the city.

Lost in thought, she arrived at her mother’s courtyard just as Mei Chen approached with the household manager beside her. The manager, a stern-looking man with graying hair, bowed deeply.

“The house manager greets the Lin family’s second daughter,” he said respectfully. “This servant was told you sent for me?”

Xiulan extended her hand toward the house manager. “The ledger, please. I need to review the estate’s accommodations.”

“The... ledger?” The manager’s brow furrowed. “May I ask why Miss Lin requires—”

“My current quarters are unsuitable for my station. I intend to select an appropriate courtyard.” Xiulan pointed at the bound volume tucked under his arm.

“But who has authorized—”

“The ledger.” Xiulan’s outstretched hand remained steady.

The manager surrendered the book with visible reluctance. Xiulan opened it, revealing detailed maps of the estate grounds. Her finger traced down to her mother’s modest courtyard, marked in neat script.

An empty space sat adjacent—perfect.

“This one.” Xiulan tapped the vacant courtyard. “It’s conveniently located next to Concubine Lian’s residence.”

Blood drained from the manager’s face, the sternness instantly replaced with nervous energy. “But... but... uh... lady, there are others—”

“Is there a problem?” Xiulan arched an eyebrow. “The records show it’s vacant.”

“Miss Lin, please, if you’d consider—”

Xiulan turned away, striding toward the courtyard in question. It wasn’t that far. The manager’s footsteps hurried behind her.

“Miss Lin! Miss Lin, please wait!”

The courtyard gate revealed the source of his distress. Servants bustled about the supposedly vacant space, carrying fresh linens and tea services. Decorated screens lined the walkways, and incense smoke curled from braziers.

Xiulan pivoted toward the manager. “Who occupies this unregistered residence? Explain.”

The manager wrung his hands. “Young Master Lin Jin’s... mistress currently resides here.”

Xiulan studied the nervous manager. “Why isn’t this residence officially registered? Did Elder Brother Jin submit a formal request to Father?”

“I... that is...” The manager dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“So my brother installed his mistress in quarters fit for a proper wife while relegating me to servant’s quarters?” Xiulan’s words cut through the morning air.

Sweat trickled down the manager’s temples as he mopped his brow. “There must be some mistake in the records, Miss Lin.”

Of course it’s a mistake. So many convenient mistakes piling up that incompetence seems too charitable an explanation.

“Clear out this courtyard by nightfall and prepare it for my residence.” Xiulan squared her shoulders.

“Miss Lin!” The manager stumbled over his words. “I cannot—they won’t—you must speak with Young Master Jin or Lord Lin directly!”

Dealing with this man wasn’t getting her anywhere.

Xiulan strode past him through the courtyard gates. They followed the neat path flanked by manicured gardens that led toward the courtyard’s center.

“Miss, what are you doing?” Mei Chen whispered behind her.

The manager’s footsteps pattered across the stones as he rushed after them. A group of servants noticed their approach and an older woman stepped forward to block their path.

“Who dares enter this courtyard uninvited?” The woman planted her feet firmly.

“Fetch your mistress.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “Now.”

Whispers rippled through the gathered servants. The older woman hesitated before nodding to a young maid who scurried toward the courtyard’s main building.

Bloody Squall

When faced with lies, do not meet them with more lies. Instead, let truth be your blade—sharp, precise, and impossible to deny. For, in the end, deception crumbles like autumn leaves while truth stands firm as mountain stone.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Silk rustled against stone as an elegantly dressed woman emerged from the main building. She glided through the parting servants with practiced grace, her violet robes catching the morning light. The woman’s painted lips curved into a practiced smile as she approached.

“Who dares intrude upon my private quarters?” Her voice dripped honey-coated venom.

Xiulan straightened her spine. “Lin Xiulan, Second Daughter of the Lin Family.” She gestured toward the trembling house manager. “This servant feared delivering the news himself, but you’ll need to relocate. I require these quarters adjacent to Concubine Lian.”

Silence descended over the courtyard. Servants froze in their tasks, tea cups suspended in mid-pour. The sweet scent of incense hung thick in the still air.

Xiulan’s muscles tensed beneath her robes. Her right hand inched closer to her concealed dagger. The situation balanced on a knife’s edge—either an attack or theatrical tears seemed inevitable.

The woman surprised her by sinking into a graceful bow. “This humble one is Lan Yue. I’ll ensure the quarters are prepared for you by nightfall, though clearing more than the main building may prove challenging before then.”

Xiulan blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected display of respect. The genuine deference in Lan Yue’s tone contained none of the barely concealed contempt she’d grown accustomed to.

Maybe I’ve been too harsh. Not everyone plots against me.

The constant pressure of recent events had pushed her toward viewing everyone as an enemy. That mindset wouldn’t serve her well; she already had enough real opponents without imagining more.

“Thank you for your understanding, Miss Lan.” Xiulan offered a slight bow. “The main quarters will suffice for today’s arrangements.” She turned toward the house manager. “Please coordinate with Miss Lan’s servants for the move and secure appropriate alternative accommodations for her.”

The house manager dropped into a deep bow. “At once, Miss Lin! I’ll see to everything immediately.”

Xiulan faced Lan Yue again. “My deepest apologies for this sudden intrusion. I’ve just returned from traveling and must pay respects to my mother.”

“Of course.” Lan Yue stepped closer, a gentle smile playing across her painted lips. “Perhaps you’d honor me with tea another time? I’d enjoy getting to know Lord Lin’s daughter better.”

The invitation caught Xiulan off guard. She studied Lan Yue’s expression, searching for hidden motives but found only polite interest. “I’d like that. Please send a note reminding one of my servants in a few days.”

Xiulan departed the courtyard, her steps measured against the stone path.

“Miss.” Mei Chen matched her pace. “Is it wise to associate with Elder Brother Jin’s mistress?”

“I don’t know.” Xiulan shrugged. “But there’s no harm in being polite.”

The familiar path to her mother’s courtyard brought a sense of peace to Xiulan’s steps. An aged servant stood at attention by the entrance, wrinkles deepening as she smiled in recognition.

“Young Miss! Welcome home.” The servant bowed deeply.

“Please inform Mother that I’ve returned and wish to see her.”

“Of course! Please, come wait inside while I notify Concubine Lian.”

Xiulan nodded to Mei Chen, and they walked the familiar route to the guest room. Silver-haired servants swept the courtyard paths and tended the gardens—loyal faces from years past. The realization struck Xiulan like a physical blow. These servants had stayed with her mother through everything, even after Madam Zhang’s rise to power.

No wonder this place always felt safe. Xiulan settled onto a cushion in the guest room. She’d spent countless hours here, sheltered from the mansion’s politics and schemes. Perhaps that explained why she’d never received her own courtyard—she already had one.

The door slid open as an older servant entered, carrying a wooden tray with steaming tea.

“Auntie Lan!” Xiulan brightened. “How have you been?”

“Well enough, miss.” Lan Zhao set down the tray with practiced grace. “Though these old bones creak more each day.”

Lan Zhao turned toward Mei Chen with an approving nod. “And you, child? Have you been taking good care of our Young Miss?”

“Oh, Auntie!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes. “So much has happened! We went to the Treasure Pavilion, and—”

“Why don’t you both take some time to catch up?” Xiulan interrupted with a smile. “I can wait for Mother on my own.”

“You’re too kind, Young Miss.” Lan Zhao bowed deeply. “Concubine Lian should arrive shortly.”

Xiulan lifted the delicate porcelain cup, savoring the familiar aroma of jasmine tea.

After a brief wait, the paper door whispered open, and Xiulan’s breath caught at the sight of Zhao Lian. Dark brown hair framed bright eyes that sparkled with intelligence despite years of hardship. The simple cotton robe adorning her mother’s frame barely surpassed servant quality, yet she moved with innate grace.

“Xiulan?” Zhao Lian knelt beside her. “What brings you home so early? Are you well?”

Her carefully maintained walls crumbled. Xiulan launched forward, wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders. Tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks as she breathed in the comforting scent of osmanthus soap.

“I’m home, Mother.” The words came out thick with emotion.

“Shh.” Zhao Lian traced soothing circles on her back. “Everything will be alright, my dear one.”

Oh, this is what having a mom is like. The thought was distinctly Li Mei’s.

Xiulan pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”

“Then let us speak properly.” Zhao Lian settled across the low table and poured herself tea.

The story poured out—the carriage accident, her near-death experience on the cliff face. She detailed the confrontation with her sisters, careful to omit anything about Li Mei or her previous life. The tale continued through selling her jewels, securing a proper allowance, and finally, the attempted poisoning.

Zhao Lian’s eyes widened with each revelation, the teacup trembling slightly in her grip.

Xiulan sipped her cooling tea, studying her mother’s shocked expression. For fifteen years, Zhao Lian had survived by becoming invisible, teaching Xiulan to do the same. They had dodged Madam Zhang’s schemes through careful submission and avoidance.

Now, Xiulan had shattered that careful peace in less than a week.

The door slid open as Mei Chen and Lan Zhao returned, bearing plates of sesame cakes and sweet bean pastries. The familiar treats brought back memories of countless afternoons spent in this very room. They arranged the dishes before stepping back.

Zhao Lian exhaled softly, setting down her teacup. “You’ve given me much to consider, Daughter. I’m relieved to see you recovered and in good health after what you went through.”

“Mother, I plan to do more than just recover.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “I won’t stay passive anymore. Things need to change.”

“Is that wise?” Zhao Lian leaned forward, dropping her voice. “The Chao family holds considerable influence in the capital. Madam Zhang’s family connections run deep—far deeper than you might realize.”

“And yet.” Xiulan picked up a sesame cake, studying its familiar pattern. “This remains the Lin Family Estate, not the Chao Family Estate.”

Zhao Lian acknowledged the point with a slight nod, lifting her cup to her lips. Steam curled upward as she sipped in thoughtful silence.

“I have a shipment arriving from the Treasure Pavilion in the coming days. I don’t know the exact date.” Xiulan kept her tone casual. “Could your servants secure it quietly? I’d prefer to avoid drawing attention from... certain parties.”

“Of course, Daughter. My servants are yours to command whenever needed.” Zhao Lian refilled their teacups with practiced grace.

“About that...” Xiulan set down her cup. “I claimed the adjacent courtyard—the one Lan Yue occupied. I’ll need help selecting trustworthy servants and might require some of your staff permanently.”

Tea splashed over the rim of Zhao Lian’s cup. “You... evicted her?” She dabbed at the spill with her sleeve. “Perhaps you’re moving too quickly. Did Lord Lin approve this?”

“Mother.” Xiulan straightened. “I’ve already set things in motion. Backing down now would only make future moves more difficult. This moment—while they’re still adjusting to my changes—is perfect for decisive action.”

Worry creased Zhao Lian’s brow. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped at the sound of raised voices outside. The shouts echoed through the courtyard, growing louder by the second.

Xiulan rose from her cushion and her mother stood as well. Together, they slid open the wooden door.

Lin Jin stomped through the center of the courtyard, scattering servants like startled birds. “Where is that bitch? Come out right now!”

Well, that got out faster than I imagined. Xiulan studied her enraged brother, weighing possibilities.

Had Lan Yue orchestrated this confrontation as revenge, or did this simply spring from Jin’s trademark arrogance? Either way, Madam Zhang and her sisters clearly hadn’t warned him about their recent encounters. He strutted around like always, expecting to dominate through sheer bluster.

“Young Master!” Several elderly servants blocked his path. “This behavior dishonors your station!”

“Xiulan!” Lin Jin’s face reddened as he shouted. “Come out here now! Xiulan!”

Zhao Lian stepped forward, but Xiulan extended her arm to block her mother’s path. This confrontation belonged to her. She strode into the courtyard, keeping her movements measured and controlled.

“Brother Jin.” Xiulan pitched her voice to carry across the yard. “Why do you barge into Concubine Lian’s private courtyard without an invitation? Such rudeness ill befits the eldest son.”

Lin Jin spun toward her voice, his jaw clenched as he glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Who do you think you are?” Spittle flew from his lips. “Moving Lan Yue from her rightful place! She stays exactly where she is, and you—you’ll crawl back to the servant’s quarters where you belong!”

“I will do no such thing.” Xiulan kept her posture straight and regal. “The courtyard wasn’t officially assigned. Lan Yue agreed to relocate to more suitable quarters, but the space beside Mother’s residence suits my needs perfectly.”

Lin Jin’s face turned an alarming shade of purple as he screamed incoherently, the veins in his neck bulging with each incomprehensible word.

Xiulan maintained her calm demeanor, though internally, she pondered the peculiarities of Madam Zhang’s bloodline. How did sweet Zhang Wei come from the same stock as this raving lunatic?

Footsteps echoed as servants rushed to witness the spectacle. Heads poked around corners and peered through windows. The crowd swelled beyond the courtyard gates, drawn by Lin Jin’s theatrical display.

“I am the Second Daughter of Lord Lin.” Xiulan’s clear voice cut through his tantrum. “If the Young Master wishes to speak with me, he will do so with proper respect, not by making a spectacle of himself before the entire household.”

The gathered crowd murmured. Several older servants nodded approvingly while others whispered behind raised sleeves.

The metal plates of his armor clinked as Lin Jin advanced. “I am this family’s heir, and you are far beneath me! Kowtow one hundred times before I teach you a lesson!”

Xiulan planted her feet firmly on the stone courtyard. “I am our father’s daughter. I will not damage House Lin’s reputation with such a display.”

Lin Jin froze, staring at her with wild eyes.

Yes, that’s right, half-brother, I’m not a meek little—

Pain exploded across her face as metal crashed into bone. The world spun as she hit the ground hard. Warm copper filled her mouth as blood gushed from her nose.

Through blurred vision, she watched Lin Jin shove her mother aside. Zhao Lian stumbled back into the gathering crowd.

The world compressed under Lin Jin’s weight as he straddled her chest. His armored knees pinned her down. “You dare defy me?” Another gauntleted fist smashed into her cheek. Sharp metal split skin.

“Stop! You’ll kill her!” Servants screamed from the edges of the courtyard.

Lin Jin’s arm rose again. Xiulan twisted her head aside as metal cracked against stone where her face had been. The hidden dagger slipped from her sleeve into her palm. She stabbed upward, but the blade skittered off his armor with a metallic screech.

Lin Jin’s eyes widened at the flash of steel. His fist lifted for another strike.

Xiulan yanked the dagger back and drove it deep into his exposed armpit. Blood spurted as Lin Jin screeched. He gurgled and scrambled backward, leaving a crimson trail across the stones.

Traitorous Whirls

The greatest deceptions are not woven from complete falsehoods but from truths twisted like silk threads into patterns that please their weaver. Watch carefully how such threads are spun, for in their weaving lies the key to their unraveling.
—Master Mei Hua, Sage of Ten Thousand Brushstrokes

Servants blurred past Xiulan’s bedside as night crept across the estate. A physician dabbed something sharp-smelling onto her face while muttering instructions; the pungent herbs made her eyes water, but the pain dulled to a distant throb.

Mei Chen stood guard near the door, wielding a cast iron wok like a shield. The maid’s knuckles whitened against the handle each time footsteps passed outside. Through the haze of herbs and pain, Zhao Lian’s authoritative voice drifted in—directing servants, demanding updates, and coordinating care.

Darkness swallowed the room. Light returned. Xiulan blinked at the beams streaming through paper screens as she pulled herself out of a fitful sleep.

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen rushed forward.

Xiulan pushed herself upright. Fire shot through her cheek at the movement. “How—” The word caught in her throat as agony blazed across her face.

“Please don’t speak,” Mei Chen said. “The physician said your face needs time to heal. The cut runs deep, and your nose...” She wrung her hands. “It broke when he struck you.”

Damn. Xiulan touched her swollen face. I got cocky. Should have known better than to provoke him without armor or backup. I fucked up.

“Lin Jin.” The words scraped past her lips. “Dead?”

Mei Chen’s face drained of color. “The physicians haven’t left his side since... since...” She swallowed hard. “They say it’s critical. That’s why only one came to check on you briefly.”

A shaky exhale escaped Xiulan. Haaa... If Father’s precious heir dies because of me... She didn’t finish the thought. No amount of justification would save her if Lin Jin didn’t survive. Not with how things were.

Pain radiated through her face as she considered her options. The swelling made speaking difficult, but maybe that could work in her favor. Let them see what their precious heir did to me before I heal it.

“Where are my things?” The words came out slurred, and the taste of copper filled her mouth. She wanted to wince, but even that hurt.

Mei Chen scurried to retrieve a lacquered tray. The blood-stained dagger drew Xiulan’s attention first—crimson droplets had dried on the polished wood beneath it. Next to it sat her healing pill, purse, and the stack of documents she’d accumulated.

“Mother’s safe.” Xiulan pointed to the documents. She turned toward the wardrobe in the room's corner. “Servants, dress.”

Mei Chen bowed and hurried out. Servants entered a moment later and helped her put on a fresh dress for the day. Xiulan palmed the healing pill, sliding it into her inner pocket. Not yet. First, let them see. They won’t be able to claim I acted unfairly.

Xiulan lifted the bloody dagger.

“Clean.” She handed it to the nearest servant. “Carefully.”

They won’t dare strike me after this, but... Xiulan traced the swelling around her eye. Next time, they might skip the beating and go straight for the kill.

The clock was ticking against her survival in this nest of vipers; she needed those cultivation materials from the Treasure Pavilion sooner rather than later.

Xiulan pointed at her bandaged face. “Remove.”

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen stepped back. “The physician insisted these stay in place for at least—”

“Make it visible.”

Mei Chen wrung her hands but approached with trembling fingers. The bandages peeled away, revealing layers of discolored flesh beneath. Xiulan studied her reflection in the bronze mirror: purple bloomed around her eye socket, and dried blood crusted the edges of the cut splitting her cheek.

“Stop.” Xiulan raised her hand when only a small strip remained. “Good.” The words sent fresh pain lancing through her face. This day needs to end.

Without announcing her destination, Xiulan strode from the courtyard. Mei Chen’s footsteps echoed behind her as they wound through the paths toward the northeast gardens.

The morning air carried hints of mountain pine, cypress, and river mist. Below the cliff’s edge, Blackmere sprawled beneath cloudless blue skies, the mountain river carving its path toward the distant walls.

Xiulan turned toward the estate’s central courtyards. Servants scattered as she passed. Ladies behind painted fans whispered about damaged goods. A merchant’s son loudly proclaimed what a waste it was to mar such beauty. Another suggested she might make a suitable match now that her value had diminished.

The whispers followed her path to Lin Jin’s pavilion. Two guards crossed their spears, blocking her approach.

“Halt! State your business.”

“Brother Jin’s health?”

“Demon!” A servant shrieked from inside. “Get away from here, you evil creature!”

Xiulan bowed with precise formality and retreated. She’d displayed the proper concern for her brother. No one could claim she hadn’t fulfilled her familial duties.

The training yard echoed with clashing steel and barked commands. Xiulan observed the soldiers from behind a screen of ornamental trees. Sweat gleamed on muscled arms as they swung practice swords in precise arcs. The rhythmic movements reminded her of raid formations in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen shifted uneasily beside her.

Xiulan turned away from the training grounds, and they headed back to the estate’s eastern section. She stopped at her new courtyard.

Inside, it was stripped bare like a merchant’s stall after market day. Servants scurried about with cleaning supplies, most wearing her mother’s colors. Empty hooks dotted the walls where paintings once hung. Vacant pedestals marked where pottery and sculptures had stood.

“Perhaps you should rest?” Mei Chen’s words carried a tremor of concern.

“Soon.” Pain shot through Xiulan’s face as she spoke.

Bare wooden floors stretched through empty rooms as she continued her exploration. Lan Yue’s belongings—screens, cushions, tables—had vanished with their owner. The space echoed with possibility, but furnishing it properly would cost taels. New dresses, jewelry, furniture—the costs multiplied in her mind.

Once I open my meridians... Xiulan traced her fingers along a windowsill. The cultivator world that would open to her held treasures worth fortunes to the right buyers. Herbs that grew in beast-infested valleys. Crystals formed in caves. If reality matched the game, she’d be able to use cultivation strength to claim them.

No one in the Lin family would be able to harm her ever again. But instead, she’d acquire a host of new problems: cultivators were often hostile and competitive with each other. However…

At least that was something she could take head-on.

After an hour of inspection, Xiulan admitted the courtyard needed significant work before she could move in. She returned to her mother’s residence, where Lan Zhao spotted her swollen face.

“Miss Xiulan!” Lan Zhao rushed forward. “You shouldn’t be walking around like this!”

Fresh bandages soon covered her injuries again. She reclined on cushions, fingering the healing pill in her pocket. The decision weighed on her—continue displaying her wounds as evidence, or heal now and regain her strength?

The decision crystallized with surprising speed.

“Bring me tea.” She directed the command to Mei Chen, who scurried off to fetch it.

Steam curled from a ceramic cup as Mei Chen returned. Xiulan loosened her outer robe and extracted the massive pill. The medicinal sphere looked absurd, almost comically large compared to modern medicine from her past life. After a wait to let the liquid cool, she lifted the teacup and tossed the pill back, gulping tea to force it down her throat; it scraped against her flesh despite it.

They should have divided this into smaller doses.

Xiulan recalled the dramatic cultivation scenes from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, where heroes swallowed massive glowing orbs of medicine. She almost snorted, but the movement sent pain shooting through her nose.

A tingling sensation spread across her skin, starting in the pit of her stomach and creeping up to her face. The sensation differed from the immediate relief of Qingfeng’s Heaven Grass tea—that had felt like cool water washing away pain. This crawled through her flesh like tiny sparks of electricity.

Mortal medicine versus cultivator remedies. The contrast stood out sharply. Even basic cultivation items outperformed the finest normal treatments.

There wasn’t much left to do for the day except rest and heal.

Zhao Lian swept into the room multiple times, wringing her hands and fussing over the bandages before rushing out again, too distraught to speak more than a few broken sentences.

Xiulan reclined on her cushions until the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the courtyard. The medicine left her mind hazy and unable to calculate.

Lan Zhao and Mei Chen maintained a constant vigil, hovering nearby with anxious energy. Through the open doorway, several female servants patrolled with wooden clubs poorly concealed in their sleeves. The sight of makeshift weapons sent a pang through Xiulan’s chest.

All this chaos because of one fight. She traced the edge of her bandage. No—because of one attempted murder. The distinction mattered. Lin Jin had tried to kill her first. She’d merely survived.

Still, watching the nervous energy rippling through her mother’s household staff twisted something inside her. These women risked themselves to protect her, arming themselves against potential retaliation.

Their loyalty deserved better than to be tested so severely.

Dawn broke with Mei Chen’s urgent whispers. “Miss Xiulan, Lord Lin has returned to the estate.”

Xiulan pushed herself upright, pleasantly surprised when the movement caused only mild discomfort. “Thank you, Mei Chen.” The words flowed easily, without the stabbing pain of yesterday.

A bronze mirror reflected a much-improved visage. The gash that had gaped angry and raw was now pink, healing flesh knitting the edges together. Stitches were removed with an easy snip. The purple-black bruising had faded to yellowish-green, as if weeks had passed instead of hours.

Perfect timing. She adjusted the bandages to ensure the injuries remained visible while touching the mostly healed flesh beneath. Jin Wei’s medicine had worked exactly as she needed—enough recovery to function while leaving sufficient evidence of Lin Jin’s attack.

Should I wait for a summons or take initiative?

Xiulan weighed her options. Presenting herself at the main pavilion would allow her to gauge the reactions to the situation firsthand.

Simple choice, then. “Mei Chen, bring out the jade silk dress Sister Suyin lent me.”

Mei Chen rushed to retrieve the garment, handling the delicate fabric with reverent care. The dress whispered against Xiulan’s skin as Mei Chen secured each fastening with practiced precision.

“Miss Xiulan, shall I fetch the rouge and powder?”

“No.” Xiulan traced the visible bruising along her jaw. “Let them see exactly what Lin Jin did.”

The weight of her concealed dagger pressed reassuringly against her forearm as she adjusted its position. Everyone likely knew about it after yesterday, but its presence steadied her nerves.

Lan Zhao appeared, and Xiulan waved at her. “Send word to Mother that I’m heading to the central pavilion.”

Everything taken care of, Xiulan strode through the grounds with Mei Chen at her heels.

Servants scattered at their approach, ducking into doorways or suddenly finding urgent tasks in opposite directions. Even the minor officials they passed averted their eyes, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

The central pavilion loomed ahead, its entrance flanked by stern-faced guards. As Xiulan approached, one stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

“Halt! Lord Lin is conducting an inquiry. No one may enter.”

“What sort of inquiry?” Xiulan asked.

“A questioning, Miss Lin. That’s all I’m permitted to say.”

Xiulan narrowed her eyes at the guard. A questioning without her presence would only serve those who wished to twist the narrative. Unacceptable.

“Thank you for your diligence.” She bowed slightly to the guard and walked away, scanning the perimeter wall of the central pavilion. The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard walls, perfect cover for what she planned next.

“Miss? Miss, where are we going?” Mei Chen’s footsteps pattered behind her.

A promising spot emerged where the main pavilion’s wall intersected with Lord Lin’s courtyard. The stone surface offered enough handholds, and a decorative boulder provided the boost she needed. Xiulan turned to face her confused maid.

“Wait here, Mei Chen. This isn’t something you should be involved in.”

“Involved in what?” Mei Chen’s eyes darted between Xiulan and the wall. “Miss, you’re not going to—”

Xiulan planted her foot on the boulder, testing its stability. The jade silk dress restricted her movement, but she managed.

“Miss! Miss, please!” Mei Chen bounced anxiously.

The wall’s rough surface scraped against Xiulan’s palms as she pulled herself up. At the top, she balanced precariously and looked down at her fretting friend. “Gather everyone from Mother’s courtyard—any witnesses you can find. Bring them to the central pavilion’s entrance.”

Not waiting for a response, Xiulan swung her legs over and dropped to the other side, bending her knees to absorb the impact.

It was a narrow space, the walkway between the pavilion building and the perimeter wall. In both directions, the coast was clear, but that could change in an instant.

She brushed the dust from her robes. It wasn’t possible to completely erase the smudges from the wall climb, though. No matter. The dress serves its purpose either way.

She slipped through an unguarded side entrance, emerging into a hallway lined with startled servants. Their wide eyes tracked her progress, but none dared intervene as she strode past with purposeful steps. The sound of voices grew louder as she approached the main hall.

Lord Lin and Madam Zhang sat elevated on the county thrones, presiding over a line of witnesses that stretched toward the entrance. Xiulan melted into the crowd, positioning herself behind several taller attendants.

“Tell us again what you witnessed,” Madam Zhang demanded from her perch.

A servant bowed low. “I saw Miss Lin accost Young Master Jin on the garden path. She blocked his way deliberately.”

“She struck first,” another added quickly. “Drew her blade before Young Master Jin could defend himself.”

“The look in her eyes...” A kitchen maid shuddered. “She laughed while stabbing him. Boasted that he deserved worse.”

“We had to drag her away.” The groundskeeper wrung his hands. “She screamed that he should die, that she wouldn’t stop until—”

With each fabrication, Lord Lin’s face darkened further. His knuckles whitened against the throne’s armrests.

The crowd thinned as witness after witness stepped forward with their practiced lies. Xiulan clenched her jaw, counting breaths until only three people remained between her and the throne.

Madam Zhang’s satisfied expression shattered as she spotted Xiulan in the dwindling crowd. “What are you doing here!?”

Xiulan stepped past the remaining witnesses, a wry smile playing across her lips. “I heard that such outrageous lies were being spewed this morning. I simply had to hear them for myself.”

Reckoning Storm

A mother's fury burns hotter than the eternal flame, and her love cuts deeper than the sharpest blade. In protecting her young, she becomes both shield and sword.
—Master Bai Yue, Hand of Mortal Healing

Silence crashed through the hall like a physical wave. Every eye fixed on Xiulan as she stood before the county throne.

“Who allowed you in here?” Madam Zhang’s shriek pierced the quiet. “How dare you sneak about like a common thief!”

Lord Lin slammed his fist against the throne’s armrest. “Enough!” His face reddened as he glared at Xiulan. “How could you attempt to murder your own brother? You betrayed this family—betrayed me!”

Xiulan dropped into a formal bow. “Honored Father, I have neither betrayed you nor our family name.”

“She tried to murder my son!” Madam Zhang leaped to her feet. “Remove this viper from our family immediately!”

The silk of Xiulan’s dress rustled as she straightened. “I apologize for stabbing Lin Jin, but I had no choice.”

“So you admit to stabbing your brother Jin?” Lord Lin’s words cut through the tension.

“I acted to protect my life.” Xiulan gestured to her visible bruises. “Ask anyone how badly I was injured. Doctor Jin Wei’s healing pill alone allows me to stand here today.”

The fury in Lord Lin’s expression wavered, confusion seeping through. He opened his mouth to speak—

The hall’s side door burst open. Lin Jin stormed through, face twisted with rage. “Liar! The witnesses already told the truth. There’s no need to listen to more of your deceptions. You tried to murder me!”

Xiulan straightened, fixing Lin Jin with an icy stare. “Which hall path did we meet in when this alleged attack occurred?”

Lin Jin blinked rapidly. “What?”

“A simple question. Where did this confrontation happen?” Xiulan took a step forward. “What time of day was it?”

“I—that’s not—” Lin Jin’s shoulders tensed.

“Perhaps you could tell Father what you were doing when we encountered each other?” The silk of her sleeve whispered as she gestured. “Or explain why I suddenly attacked you without provocation?”

“You ambushed me! I don’t have to remember every detail!” Spittle flew from Lin Jin’s mouth.

“Ambushed you?” Xiulan’s laugh echoed off the pavilion walls. “Are you claiming that I, a sixteen-year-old girl, somehow dragged down a grown man who saunters about the estate mounted on horseback, surrounded by house guards, and wearing full armor?”

Lin Jin’s mouth opened and closed as if he was gasping for air.

“Father.” Xiulan turned to Lord Lin. “Your son lies.”

“How dare you!” Madam Zhang’s face flushed crimson. “This insolent—”

“I have witnesses waiting outside.” Xiulan’s words cut through Madam Zhang’s tirade. “They can speak to the truth.”

“We’ve heard enough!” Madam Zhang waved dismissively. “There’s no need for—”

Lord Lin raised his hand, silencing his wife. “Bring them in.”

Relief flooded through Xiulan as Mei Chen led two dozen ladies into the court. Their silk robes rustled against the floor as they assembled.

“Father, with your permission, I would like to question the witnesses.” Xiulan maintained perfect posture despite her aching ribs and ankles. Maybe the wall had been taller than she had thought.

Lord Lin’s gaze swept across the assembled women. “Permission granted. But know this: any witness found lying will receive one thousand lashes!”

One of Madam Zhang’s earlier witnesses stumbled backward, face draining of color. Another turned and fled through the rear entrance, causing a ripple of whispers.

Xiulan ignored the commotion. “Mei Chen, step forward.”

The young maid’s hands trembled against her robes, but she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders as she approached.

“Tell the court what you witnessed,” Xiulan said softly.

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen drew a steadying breath. “Miss Lin had just arrived at Concubine Zhao’s courtyard. They shared an emotional reunion over jasmine tea when—”

A muscle twitched in Lin Jin’s jaw. Xiulan suppressed a smile.

“Young Master Jin burst into the courtyard.” Mei Chen’s voice grew stronger. “He shouted for Miss Lin to present herself immediately.”

“And what happened when I came out?” Xiulan kept her tone gentle.

“He made demands.” Mei Chen’s fingers twisted in her sleeves.

“What exactly did my brother say?”

“He said—” Mei Chen straightened her spine. “‘I am this family’s heir, and you are far beneath me! Kowtow one hundred times before I teach you a lesson!’”

Silence crashed through the hall. Madam Zhang’s face darkened to purple. Lord Lin’s knuckles whitened against his armrest.

“Continue,” Xiulan prompted. “What occurred after his... request?”

The color drained from Mei Chen’s face. She crossed her hands tightly. “Miss Lin refused to kowtow. Then Young Master Jin—” Her voice cracked. “He rushed at Miss Lin and slammed her to the ground. When Concubine Zhao tried to help, he shoved her aside. Then he fell on Miss Lin and started beating her face.”

“She lies!” Lin Jin lunged forward. “Lash this servant immediately!”

Lord Lin slammed his palm against the throne. “Silence!” The command echoed through the hall, freezing Lin Jin mid-stride.

Xiulan bowed deeply to her father. “Mei Chen, what attire did my brother wear during this encounter?”

“Full battle armor, Miss Lin.” Mei Chen’s voice steadied. “The ceremonial set with golden trim.”

“Including gauntlets?”

“Yes, miss. Metal encased his hands and forearms completely.”

Xiulan turned to face Lord Lin. “This is when I drew my dagger, Father. With an armored man pinning me down, I feared for my life.” The memory of the cutting violence that filled her mouth with copper made her shudder. “I attempted to cut him, to drive him away, but his armor deflected the blade. Only then did I...” She swallowed hard. “I stabbed beneath his arm, where the plates joined.”

One by one, more witnesses stepped forward. Each account matched Mei Chen’s testimony: the tea ceremony, Lin Jin’s violent entrance, the assault. Relief flooded through Xiulan as understanding dawned in her father’s eyes.

“How convenient.” Madam Zhang’s silken voice sliced through the moment. “But surely you notice the estate’s servants can’t keep their stories straight? Just earlier, many others claimed the exact opposite!” A cruel smile curved her painted lips. “When testimonies conflict so severely, we must dismiss them entirely.”

“What?” The word escaped before Xiulan could stop it.

Madam Zhang’s smile widened. “Since these servants clearly don’t know what they witnessed, we should disregard their confusion entirely.” She gestured dismissively. “That leaves us with only two accounts—yours and my son’s.”

“Those witnesses lied!” Xiulan pointed at the departed servants. “Madam Zhang either bribed or threatened them into giving false testimony!”

The sound of Lord Lin’s fist striking wood thundered through the hall. “Serious accusations demand serious proof.” His eyes bore into Xiulan. “Who orchestrated these lies? Do you have evidence of bribery?”

Xiulan’s throat constricted. The room tilted slightly as her confidence wavered. “I... I don’t have direct proof, but—”

“You don’t have proof?” Lord Lin’s voice dropped dangerously low.

“No, Father.” The words tasted like ash.

A triumphant smirk played across Lin Jin’s features. “Father, Xiulan grows more unruly by the day. She quarreled with our sisters at Mother’s birthday celebration and caused a shameful scene.” He straightened his robes with practiced precision. “Her wild accusations only prove how she disrupts our family’s harmony. Should we trust anything she claims? I could have died!”

Cold sweat beaded on Xiulan’s neck. Just moments ago, understanding had flickered in her father’s eyes. Now, that light dimmed, replaced by growing doubt as he nodded along with Lin Jin’s words.

Madam Zhang’s painted lips curved into a predatory smile. The victory in her gaze sent ice through Xiulan’s veins.

Lord Lin stood, his decision poised on the edge of his lips—and then the main gates to the court swung open with a resounding crash.

The seldom-used ceremonial entrance squealed loudly in protest, silencing the court’s entire ensemble. Heads turned.

Xiulan’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened as Lin Zhao Lian stepped into the hall, adorned in the most ornate wedding dress she had ever seen. Seashell dust made the hems glitter, and gemstones traced the collar in intricate patterns. Three maids followed closely, ensuring the pristine red and gold robe remained untangled and immaculate.

The room held its collective breath as Zhao Lian moved forward with deliberate grace, each step echoing through the silent hall. She stopped in front of the throne, her presence commanding attention.

Madam Zhang’s growl broke the silence. “Look at these theatrics,” she sneered. “A desperate attempt to save her daughter.”

Zhao Lian raised her chin, her voice ringing out with unwavering strength. “Husband! I call upon you for justice in this house!”

The declaration sent a dangerous ripple through the room. Madam Zhang’s face twisted with fury, and Lin Jin’s eyes blazed with anger.

Xiulan felt a chill creep down her spine. Zhao Lian was just the third concubine now, but she had been Lord Lin’s legitimate first wife once. That was why Xiulan held the title of second daughter despite her sister Suyin being older by a year.

But bringing up that fact was perilous.

House Chao and Madam Zhang had long ignored Zhao Lian’s former status, given how poorly Lord Lin had treated her after her demotion. By honor and tradition, Zhao Lian should have been the first wife by seniority. Lord Lin had pushed and bullied his way through that because Zhao Lian had become barren after giving birth to Xiulan. He wanted to please Madam Zhang, the mother of his precious male heir.

Xiulan clenched her fist, nails digging into her palm.

Lord Lin’s face reflected his inner turmoil. He looked like he wanted to dismiss Zhao Lian outright but faltered, uncertainty clouding his features.

Zhao Lian’s eyes locked onto Lord Lin’s, unyielding. “Husband,” she repeated. “I demand you reclaim your honor!”

The silk of her mother’s wedding dress rustled as she withdrew a golden scroll from her robes. Xiulan’s breath caught at the rich gleam of the ornate case. The scroll unfurled with a soft whisper, rolling across the polished floor toward Father’s throne.

“Although my family’s elders are gone, my father is lost, and my brothers are buried, I remind you that our marriage contract bears the seals of Duke Min Jin and Duchess Anwen Yara as guarantors and witnesses!”

Xiulan shifted her weight, fingers twisting into her sleeves. The muscles in her back tensed as her mother’s words echoed through the hall. The familiar scent of jasmine became a stark contrast to the mounting tension.

Zhao Lian’s voice rose, sharp and clear as a temple bell. “You swore to uphold and protect me, the daughter of the Song family! Yet a man stormed into my courtyard and berated my servants without a shred of dignity. Worse than a rabid dog in the streets!”

A bead of sweat trickled down Xiulan’s neck. The bruises on her ribs throbbed in time with her racing pulse.

“He struck Xiulan!” Zhao Lian’s accusation pierced the air. “And when I tried to protect her, he struck me as well!”

Zhao Lian’s arm shot out, finger pointed at Lin Jin like an arrow. “He tried to murder our daughter, in front of me, in my courtyard!”

Deep creases lined Lord Lin’s face. The proud patriarch seemed to age years in mere moments, shoulders sagging beneath his official robes.

“This outrageous display—” Madam Zhang started.

“Silence!” Zhao Lian’s voice cracked through the air like thunder. “If you ignore this transgression, if you forsake your sworn oaths, you prove yourself the lowest of men! Empty words and hollow promises—that’s all you offered when you robbed my family’s wealth!”

Xiulan’s breath caught. The raw power in her mother’s words sent ripples of shock through the assembled witnesses.

“Make your choice now.” Zhao Lian’s fingers tightened around the marriage scroll. “Deny me justice, and I will tear this writ to pieces and divorce you this instant! Ten million taels and ten thousand tracts of land—my full dowry returns to me. Blackmere’s precious trade agreement with my maternal house will end today!”

Lord Lin crumpled onto his throne. His mouth worked soundlessly, authority stripped away by Zhao Lian’s declaration.

Xiulan stared in awe at her mother. The gentle, resigned woman she remembered had vanished, replaced by an unstoppable force that obliterated Madam Zhang’s scheme like a hammer to a teacup.

A flash of movement drew Xiulan’s attention. Hatred blazed in Madam Zhang’s eyes. Lin Jin’s hand twitched toward his belt, where a dagger usually hung. The fury in their expressions promised vengeance.

Zhao Lian stood tall, unshakeable as a mountain. She had turned defeat into absolute victory with a few precisely chosen words and by leveraging her worth that had been disastrously cast away and ignored.

But now, it would be war.

Preparing Wind

True strength flows not from individual prowess but from the bonds we forge with those who stand beside us. A single warrior may win a battle, but it takes an army of loyal hearts to secure peace.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan followed her mother out of the pavilion, her steps light despite the lingering ache in her ankles. The familiar scent of jasmine drifted from Zhao Lian’s ceremonial robes as they walked toward their courtyards.

Zhao Lian stopped and turned. “Xiulan, go to the western sector. Greet Captain Bai Chen and request the guards your father promised.”

Nervous energy bubbled through Xiulan’s chest. Zhao Lian stood serene as a mountain lake while her own hands trembled with leftover adrenaline. “I’d hug you, but it would get your dress—”

Zhao Lian stepped forward and wrapped Xiulan in her arms. The silk of her formal robes rustled as she stroked Xiulan’s back. “There, there. You did well. Everything will be alright.”

Xiulan released a shaky breath and stepped back, managing a small smile. “Yes. I’ll return after speaking with the captain.”

Zhao Lian nodded and glided away, her servants following in a practiced formation.

Mei Chen shifted beside Xiulan, fidgeting with her sleeve.

“Thank you.” Xiulan touched her maid’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have succeeded without your help today.”

Mei Chen bit her lower lip. “I haven’t forgiven you for climbing that wall and scaring me half to death, miss.”

Xiulan smiled and then nodded toward the western grounds where the barracks stood. “Let’s go find the captain.”

Despite the morning’s courtroom confrontation, the estate bustled with its usual activity. Servants scurried about, carrying trays of food and baskets of laundry. The distant clang of metal echoed from the training grounds as Xiulan and Mei Chen made their way. The guard's office stood near the barracks, a modest building with a sturdy wooden door.

Xiulan approached the door and knocked. A young guard opened it, his eyes widening at the sight of her. “Miss Lin,” he stammered, bowing deeply.

“I need to speak with Captain Bai Chen,” Xiulan said.

The guard nodded and hurried off to find the captain. Xiulan and Mei Chen stepped inside, the room filled with the scent of leather and oil. Maps and weapons adorned the walls, hinting at the military nature of the room.

Mei Chen glanced around, her discomfort evident. “They should offer tea to the miss at least,” she mumbled.

Xiulan smiled. “It’s the military, Mei Chen. They’re not accustomed to entertaining guests, and ceremony is saved for battle plans.”

Before long, Captain Bai Chen entered, bowing deeply. “Miss Lin, I wish you good health.”

Xiulan returned the bow. “Thank you, Captain Bai. The Third Concubine and I require twenty guards each for a permanent assignment at our courtyards. Lord Lin has ordered it.”

Surprise flickered across Bai Chen’s face. She guessed he probably hadn’t heard about the confrontation yet.

He finally nodded without pressing for more. “Of course, Miss Lin. I can see to it before the day is over.”

Xiulan took a deep breath. “I hope you can pick some loyal men for us who will be safe. Lord Lin wishes there be no more violence in his daughter's and Third Concubine’s lives.”

Bai Chen’s brow furrowed. “All the soldiers of the estate are loyal, Miss Lin, or they would be cast out.”

Xiulan raised her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “I don’t doubt your men’s loyalty, captain. But some might be more loyal than others. My mother and I need men who will not be easily turned or bribed by Madam Zhang’s coin or threats from my sisters and brother.”

The captain paled, glancing around to ensure they weren’t overheard. “The Second Daughter of the Lin Family shouldn’t talk so—”

“I’m sorry,” Xiulan interrupted. “But I need to be direct. I was nearly murdered, and the confrontation in the court this morning was nearly cataclysmic.”

Bai Chen’s face drained of color. “Cataclysmic?”

Xiulan recounted the morning’s events, describing how Madam Zhang’s witnesses had fabricated their testimony. “Dear Brother Jin claimed I attacked him without cause, but Zhao Lian’s intervention changed everything. She threatened divorce if Father didn’t address the situation properly.”

The remaining color drained from Captain Bai’s already pale face. His hands gripped the plates on his tassets.

“I’ll personally select the most trustworthy guards for you.” Captain Bai straightened his shoulders. “Men who value the family’s honor as their own and hold it above all else.”

She wasn’t sure where he would find forty men like that, but she would have to trust him with the matter. “Thank you.”

Captain Bai pressed his fist to his chest in a formal salute. “My loyalty lies with the Lin family, always.”

Xiulan bowed slightly. “The Second Daughter of the Lin Family appreciates your dedication.”

She turned to leave but stopped at the doorway.

“Yes? Did the young miss forget something?” Captain Bai asked.

“One of my courtyard guards should excel at weapons training, particularly with daggers, if possible.”

Captain Bai’s eyebrows drew together, but he nodded. “As you wish, Miss Lin.”

Outside in the barracks, Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s sleeve. “Why do you need a weapons trainer?”

“Because I have no idea how to properly use a weapon.” Xiulan glanced at her maid. “And neither do you.”

Mei Chen blinked rapidly.

“Next time, I shouldn’t miss the heart.” Xiulan shrugged. “I’m shocked Lin Jin survived. It reflects poorly on my skills.”

“Miss!” Mei Chen’s face turned ashen. “I haven’t forgiven you yet. Please don’t terrorize this poor servant.”

Xiulan hummed and linked her arm through Mei Chen’s as they walked toward Zhao Lian’s courtyard.

Servants darted between buildings carrying fresh linens and lunchtime meals. The familiar scent of jasmine grew stronger as they approached her mother’s courtyard.

Xiulan stepped through the moon gate and froze. Doctor Jin Wei sat with Zhao Lian in the garden, both holding delicate teacups. Zhao Lian had changed into a simple blue silk robe adorned with silver thread.

Xiulan approached and bowed deeply. “Thank you for the medicine you provided earlier, Doctor Jin. It helped tremendously with my injuries.”

“That’s precisely why I summoned him.” Zhao Lian gestured to the empty seat beside her. “We need to ensure your face heals properly, without scarring.”

Doctor Jin stood and nodded to Xiulan. “May I examine the wound?”

“Of course, that would be prudent.” She took a seat and tilted her chin up. The doctor’s careful fingers probed the tender flesh.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the medicine I prescribed initially.” Doctor Jin stepped back with a frown. “It would have been more effective if prepared specifically for facial injuries.”

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “I found alternative healing—Heaven Grass tea. I saved your pill for emergencies, which proved fortunate.”

“Indeed.” Doctor Jin crossed his arms. “Given the extent of bruising and that cut, without the pill, you’d be in much worse condition. I’ll prepare another specifically for your face.”

“Thank you, Doctor Jin.” Zhao Lian poured fresh tea into an empty cup.

Xiulan bowed her head. “Yes, thank you.”

“This time, take it properly instead of hoarding it.” Doctor Jin’s stern expression softened slightly.

Xiulan laughed. “If you don’t want me hoarding medicine, perhaps prepare an extra pill for emergencies.”

“Xiulan!” Zhao Lian set down her cup. “You shouldn’t plan on being injured again. What did Captain Bai Chen say about the guards?”

“He’ll personally select forty trusted men before nightfall.” Xiulan accepted the cup Zhao Lian offered.

Doctor Jin bowed and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Xiulan called after him. “Could you make the pills smaller? They’re rather difficult to swallow.”

Jin Wei stopped and turned back, one eyebrow raised. “Does the young miss suddenly harbor an interest in medicine making?”

Xiulan set her teacup down. “I lack practical experience, but I understand the general principles. Couldn’t you make a ‘half-pill’ version? I could double the dose when needed.”

“And what recipe do you believe I used that can be divided in such a way?” Jin Wei crossed his arms.

The familiar terms from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles flowed easily. “The previous one was likely a Mortal Blunt Restoration Pill. For my face, you’d use a Mortal Injury Pill and perhaps a Mortal Blood Staunching Pill for emergencies.”

Jin Wei’s eyes widened. “Haaah... I’m shocked.” He stepped closer to the table. “I had no idea Miss Lin possessed even basic knowledge of such medicine.”

“Could the recipe be halved to reduce size?” Xiulan prodded.

“Possible, yes, though it would require more ingredients overall.” Jin Wei stroked his chin. “The processing would be more delicate.”

Xiulan waved her hand. “I can manage the normal-sized pill for my face with tea. In emergencies, smaller ones would be ideal.”

Jin Wei bowed deeply. “I’ll prepare both versions, with the emergency pills sized for easier consumption.”

“Thank you, Doctor Jin.” Xiulan inclined her head.

After he departed, Zhao Lian set down her cup with a soft clink. “Daughter, I didn’t know you studied medicine.”

Xiulan smiled at her mother across the table. “I plan to study many things in the future.”

The tea session went well, and she spent a few hours simply chatting with her mother. It was all very focused on basic household things, but she did get some good tips on purchasing a new wardrobe and jewels cheaply while maintaining the quality.

Later, the new guards arrived all together in a group. She ordered them to assemble.

Xiulan inspected the forty men in neat rows before sunset. Each wore the standard Lin family armor—leather reinforced with steel plates—and carried well-maintained weapons. Instructor Han stood at attention beside her, his weathered face betraying hints of warmth beneath his professional demeanor.

“Your new quarters will be in the guest houses of my courtyard.” Xiulan pointed toward the buildings flanking the primary residence. “Instructor Han will serve as your commander and assign two deputies, one for each house. Half of you will patrol here and the other at my mother’s courtyard.”

The guards exchanged quick glances. A few shifted their weight.

“House Lin employs many soldiers, but Zhao Lian and I have none. Until now.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “You are our people now. Protect us well, and we’ll ensure you’re cared for. Should emergencies arise, speak with your leaders, or come to me directly.”

Murmurs rippled through the ranks. Such arrangements defied normal protocol.

After dismissing the guards, Xiulan beckoned Instructor Han to follow. They found Mei Chen struggling with a heavy wooden chest in the main building.

“Here.” Xiulan gripped one end of the chest. Instructor Han stepped forward and lifted it easily, positioning it against the bedroom wall. Together, they relocated the wardrobe beside the new bed.

“Thank you for your help.” Xiulan turned to face them both. “Now, about combat training. Mei Chen and I need instruction with daggers. I’d also like to learn other weapons. I’m particularly interested in spear work.”

From what she knew, spears were very effective and much easier to master than the blade. It would also help compensate for her lack of reach and size due to her gender.

Mei Chen nodded without protest this time.

“Miss Lin.” Instructor Han frowned. “While dagger training makes sense, why learn additional weapons?”

“Because I wish to learn.” Xiulan met his gaze. “Can you help?”

Instructor Han bowed. “I can prepare suitable lessons. When would you like to begin?”

“Mei Chen, do you have your dagger?” Xiulan asked.

A blush colored Mei Chen’s cheeks as her hand went to her leg before she nodded.

Xiulan drew her own blade from its sleeve sheath and showed it to Instructor Han.

“How about right now?”

Training Breezes

A merchant's ledger tells more tales than a general's war maps. Follow the flow of coin, and you will find the truth hidden beneath layers of deceit.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Paper lanterns cast dancing shadows across the garden as Xiulan absorbed Instructor Han’s lessons. The evening air carried a slight chill, but the focused instruction kept her mind sharp.

“Physical conditioning must become part of your daily routine,” Instructor Han said as he demonstrated a basic stance. “Morning and evening, whether I’m here or not.”

“What exercises should we do?” Xiulan asked.

“Start with stretches.” Han moved through several positions. “Then twenty squats, followed by arm circles. Repeat this five times with a short rest between each set. We will build up to more challenging movements as your strength improves.”

Xiulan glanced at her robe’s flowing sleeves. “These will make training difficult.”

“Indeed.” Han nodded. “You might consider wearing pants for practice sessions.”

Mei Chen gasped. “Pants? But that’s so...” She trailed off, fidgeting with her sleeve.

“More shocking than wielding daggers?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow. Certainly, ladies training in martial arts was improper, but there was no lack of female martial artists in the world, so it wasn’t that scandalous.

Although almost all of those female martial artists were on the immortal side of things, so Mei Chen’s reaction was somewhat understandable.

“I—” Mei Chen blushed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Han outlined specific movements they could practice while wearing robes before he said, “Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll begin proper weapons training. For now, focus on these conditioning exercises in the morning.”

After Han departed with a respectful bow, Xiulan turned to Mei Chen. “We need a privacy wall installed around this garden,” she said. “And inform the staff that only guards, Instructor Han, and our female servants are permitted here.”

“Yes, Miss Xiulan.”

“Also, acquire some spare training outfits from the soldiers for tomorrow’s session.” Xiulan adjusted her sleeve. “We’ll need appropriate attire for our unlady-like activities.”

Mei Chen maintained perfect composure while bowing. “I’ll see to it immediately, Miss Xiulan.”

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the paper screens as Xiulan sipped her tea. Jin Wei’s healing pill went down hard, but she was pleased with the four smaller black orbs she pocketed. The doctor did quick work.

She looked over at her friend. “Time to fetch those soldier outfits, Mei Chen. We should start our exercises before it gets too warm.”

“It seems strange that martial training begins with running around in circles,” Mei Chen said as she arranged the breakfast dishes with practiced efficiency.

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “What could be more essential than moving freely with strength? These beautiful robes might showcase status, but they bind us like decorative cages.”

Mei Chen disappeared briefly before returning with two neatly folded uniforms. The fabric looked softer than standard military gear, already altered to fit a more feminine frame.

Xiulan stared at the modified clothing with surprise. “I thought we’d need to adjust these now.”

“I stayed up after you retired, miss.” Mei Chen ducked her head shyly. “I predicted you’d want to begin right away.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Xiulan examined the larger uniform before glancing at the second one. “Though this one looks rather loose for you.”

“M-me?” Mei Chen squeaked, nearly dropping the teapot.

“Of course!” Xiulan grinned at her maid’s shocked expression. “Did you think I’d train alone?”

It was hard not to laugh as she turned the tables and helped Mei Chen get dressed for once; the upbeat feeling lingered as they headed into the back garden.

The guard uniform’s rougher fabric brushed against Xiulan’s skin as she stretched her arms overhead. Freedom of movement surged through her limbs. It felt entirely natural, which made sense—her past life was fully accustomed to living in trousers and jeans.

“Miss Xiulan!” Mei Chen stared wide-eyed as Xiulan kicked her leg out experimentally. “Someone might see!”

“Let them look.” Xiulan twisted at the waist, relishing the unrestricted motion. Through the courtyard entrance, workers hammered posts for the privacy fence. “Though I suppose we might start some interesting rumors.”

“Please don’t even joke about that!” Mei Chen tugged at her own borrowed uniform.

Xiulan led them through the exercises Instructor Han prescribed. Then she added more. Memories of Li Mei’s occasional gym visits guided her movements as she demonstrated proper form for jumping jacks and lunges. Mei Chen mimicked each motion, growing more confident with each rep.

Sweat darkened their clothes and plastered hair to their foreheads as they finished the final set of squats.

Xiulan wiped her brow with her sleeve. “We definitely need baths after this.”

“I’ll arrange one for you right away.” Mei Chen said, turning to leave.

“Wait.” Xiulan caught her arm. “Have them prepare two baths. You need one as well.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Mei Chen shook her head frantically. “A washcloth will suffice for me.”

“I insist.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “I ordered you to exercise, so I’ll ensure you’re properly cleaned up afterward.”

“But Miss—”

“We both need to look impeccable.” Xiulan released her grip. “No arguments.”

Mei Chen’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yes, Miss Xiulan.”

Maybe others and Mei Chen would find her treatment of her maid strange, but Xiulan couldn’t help it. Mei Chen had been by her side since the beginning. Without her help, everything would have come undone.

Her blood-related sisters were horrible. Sister Suyin was at least on better terms, but they had barely exchanged a single sentence since she had woken up as Xiulan.

She understood the gulf between her station and a servant in the setting, but…

For Li Mei, her maid was essentially her friend, considering how much time they spent together. If Mei Chen had been her roommate, life would have been far more bearable, and that had nothing to do with being waited on hand and foot.

After being cleaned up by the other servants, Xiulan moved to her room. Mei Chen returned soon after, dressed in her servant's robe and looking refreshed.

Steam rose from a porcelain teacup as Xiulan savored the fragrant blend.

“Mei Chen, we should check on our woodsmen guests.”

“Of course, Miss Xiulan. Shall I arrange for guards?”

“Two escorts.” Xiulan eyed the sparse decorations in her room. “No—make that three. We’ll need help to carry supplies back.”

While Mei Chen went to make arrangements, Xiulan got dressed.

Sunlight glinted off the embroidered browns and golds of her robe as servants adjusted the final layers. The fabric whispered against the wooden floor as she headed to her courtyard’s central garden.

After a few minutes, Mei Chen and the arranged group assembled. Xiulan led them out the moon gate without hesitation. The central sector sprawled before them as they navigated toward the minor guest courtyards.

Mei Chen leaned close. “Turn left at the cherry tree, Miss.”

Xiulan nodded and followed the direction. After a few more buildings passed, she spotted the woodsmen through an open gate. They huddled together on cushions, shoulders tense and backs rigid.

They still aren’t comfortable with such care and luxuries. A smirk tugged at her lips as she imagined Madam Zhang’s horror at commoners occupying honored guest chambers.

The spokesman noticed her presence first. Bodies hit the floor as the entire group kowtowed to her.

“Please, stand up.” Xiulan waved dismissively. “If you wish to honor me, avoid making a scene.”

They scrambled to their feet, and the spokesman bowed. “The estate’s hospitality exceeds our worth, my lady.”

“Have you been treated well?”

“Yes, Miss Lin. The food and care are more than we deserve.”

Xiulan exchanged glances with Mei Chen. “Perhaps we could sit and discuss a few matters?”

She settled onto a cushion, spreading Mei Chen’s detailed report across her lap. The parchment crinkled as she smoothed it out. “Your group produces sandalwood products?”

“Yes, Miss Lin.” The spokesman nodded. “Our tract specializes in rare sandalwood trees.”

“And who manages this land?”

“Official Zhang Huan—he’s served the Lin family for fifteen years.”

Xiulan traced her finger down the report. “How common is this particular sandalwood?”

“Very rare, miss. Our workshop produced the only finished sandalwood goods in Blackmere County.”

“Yet Official Zhang evicted you because of a workshop fire?” Xiulan lifted her gaze from the report. “The trees remained untouched?”

“Correct, miss. The fire destroyed our homes and workshops but didn’t reach the forest.”

“Everything burned at once?” Xiulan leaned forward. “Were the buildings clustered together?”

“No, miss.” The spokesman shook his head. “We spaced everything apart for safety. The simultaneous fires shocked us all, but it gave Official Zhang grounds to cancel our claim since our facilities were gone.”

Xiulan rolled the report closed. “I’d like to investigate this matter further. Would you and your men consider staying a few more days?”

“Of course, Miss Lin.” The spokesman bowed. “Your kindness already exceeds our hopes.”

Sunlight warmed the flagstones as they stepped back outside the courtyard and onto the main walkway.

Mei Chen stepped closer and asked, “Miss Xiulan, do you suspect someone planned this?”

“Without question,” Xiulan answered. “Buildings spread apart don’t spontaneously combust together. Someone orchestrated the destruction. The real mystery is why.”

“How can we learn more?” Mei Chen wrung her hands together, casting furtive glances at the woodsmen they left behind.

“We’ll need to investigate the landlord’s dealings.” Xiulan adjusted her sleeves. “That means infiltrating the County Admin.”

“Infiltrating?” Mei Chen squeaked. “Miss!”

Xiulan laughed at her maid’s scandalized expression. “Not us personally. We’ll find an official who won’t draw attention—someone who can access the information without raising suspicions.” She steered them toward her mother’s courtyard. “Mother might know someone suitable.”

As they entered and moved through the garden, the familiar scent of jasmine tea wafted through the air. They found Auntie Lan sitting alone at a small table, enjoying her tea amid the blooming flowers.

“Auntie Lan,” Xiulan called softly.

Auntie Lan looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Xiulan, what a pleasant surprise.”

She started to stand, but Xiulan took a seat quickly enough not to trouble her mother’s most trusted servant. Instead, she wasted no time and explained the circumstances with the woodsmen and asked for help.

“Official Bo Qin—my cousin—works in the estate’s administration,” Auntie Lan offered. “He could assist with such inquiries.”

“Perfect,” Xiulan said with a smile.

“I’ll arrange a meeting for tomorrow.” Auntie Lan gestured toward the main residence. “Will you stay? Your mother would love to visit.”

“Send my love and respects.” Xiulan bowed slightly. “I need to purchase items for my courtyard today.”

“Ah, you should have planned this!” Auntie Lan set down her teacup. “You and your mother could have shopped together.”

A pang of regret tightened Xiulan’s chest. “I didn’t think far enough ahead to invite her. Though I’d love to arrange something for the future.”

“I’ll inform the lady.” Auntie Lan stood up and bowed deeply.

Xiulan stood as well and sighed. She hadn’t meant to interrupt the elderly woman’s tea, but it was what it was. There was possibly a level to the culture that Xiulan’s experiences would never override Li Mei’s own.

They headed back out of the courtyard and into the manor. Today was turning into quite a busy travel trip.

Sunlight streamed through the latticed windows as Xiulan led Mei Chen and their guard toward the market. A wooden walkway creaked beneath their feet, marking the group’s progress.

There weren’t many shops on the concourse, but there were also far fewer customers. Her rank acted like a VIP pass regardless, and the mere act of entering a shop would cause it to close for every other customer.

It made her feel guilty, but…

Li Mei sighed. It was what it was? How many times would she need to think that today?

Shopping for dresses came first.

Xiulan examined each robe with practiced efficiency, selecting six in different tones of blue and green. The simple designs would serve well for daily wear without drawing unwanted attention. The shop promised to have them sent over to her courtyard before the end of the day.

“The beds next.” Xiulan strode toward a furniture merchant’s stall. Practical wooden frames caught her eye—sturdy construction without ornate carvings that would drive up the cost. “We’ll need twenty double bunks for the guards, plus five for household staff.” She pointed to a stack of woven reed mattresses. “Those will do nicely.”

Tables and chairs followed, along with storage chests and practical shelving. Then came the knickknacks and smaller items. These they would carry back themselves.

Her third bodyguard’s arms trembled under the weight of the sample pieces while servants scurried back and forth with written orders for the bulk items. She selected oil lamps, cooking implements, and basic dining ware—everything needed to transform empty rooms into livable quarters.

“I believe that’s enough for today,” Xiulan said, eyeing the guard’s precarious hold on their purchases. The poor man looked ready to collapse under the mountain of goods. Mei Chen was kind enough to take a few things off the top that looked like they were about to tumble.

The trip home was quick. At the courtyard entrance, a servant intercepted them, bowing to Mei Chen before passing over two letters.

“Letters for you, Miss Xiulan,” Mei Chen informed her.

“From whom?” Xiulan accepted the papers.

The first carried a delicate lavender scent and Lan Yue’s name inscribed in elegant calligraphy across the seal—the promised tea party. Xiulan pressed her lips together. After Lin Jin’s incident, she needed her mother’s counsel before responding.

The second letter bore the golden seal of the Treasure Pavilion. Xiulan broke the wax with eager fingers, unfolding the crisp parchment. Master Qingfeng’s brief message confirmed the delivery of her purchases to Lin Manor within two days.

Two days!

Finally!

Rising Tumult

Your enemies will tell you who they fear by what they choose to destroy. Watch not where they strike but what they seek to hide beneath the rubble of their violence.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Dawn painted the garden in soft hues as Xiulan fought back another yawn. The guards shuffled into formation, their leather armor creaking against the morning silence. Mei Chen emerged from behind a decorative screen, her new training outfit fitting perfectly against her small frame—the alterations had worked wonders.

Xiulan smiled at her young maid before turning to address the assembled guards. “Attention!”

Twenty pairs of boots snapped together as backs straightened.

“Starting today, half of you will join me for morning exercises here. We’ll rotate weekly to accommodate your guard schedules.” Xiulan clasped her hands behind her back.

A guard in the front row cleared his throat. “Miss Lin?”

“Speak.”

“You intend to train with us?” Uncertainty tinged his words.

Xiulan glanced down at her practical guard attire—a stark contrast to her usual silk robes. “Indeed I do.”

She adjusted her sleeve. “Though Mei Chen and I lag far behind your capabilities, we’ll start with basic exercises. Instructor Han will help us advance quickly.”

She swept her gaze across the assembled men. “The morning workout won’t take long. You can return to your regular duties or training afterward.”

Xiulan nodded to the guard who spoke. “You’ll lead the count and direct our morning workout today.”

“Yes, Miss Lin!” He saluted crisply and stepped to the side. “Everyone prepare!”

The guards spread out to the proper arm’s length, their movements precise and practiced. Xiulan took her position at the front beside Mei Chen, mimicking the stance of the lead guard.

Then things got intense—fast. The guards probably didn’t know Instructor Han had told them to keep it light.

Sweat trickled down Xiulan’s neck as she pushed through another set of exercises. The morning sun beat down mercilessly, and her muscles screamed in protest. Beside her, Mei Chen stumbled, catching herself before straightening with renewed determination. They persevered through the grueling routine until the final exercise ended.

The guards dispersed, leaving Xiulan and Mei Chen trudging toward the bathhouse. Their clothes clung to their skin, evidence of the morning’s exertion.

“Miss Xiulan?” Mei Chen dabbed at her forehead with a sleeve. “Why include the guards in our training? Wouldn’t it be easier to practice alone?”

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “Interaction breeds familiarity. That familiarity creates stronger bonds than abstract concepts like duty to the Lin family.” She lowered her voice. “Perhaps even stronger than Madam Zhang’s bribes.”

“Miss!” Mei Chen drew in a sharp breath. “Such dangerous talk... and please don’t speak that woman’s name. It sullies your tongue even to mention her.”

Xiulan stopped walking and studied Mei Chen’s flushed face. The timid maid she’d known just days ago had grown bolder. Pride swelled in her chest.

She grabbed Mei Chen’s arm playfully and said, “Let’s bathe together. I’ll wash your back.”

“Miss!” Mei Chen yanked free and backpedaled, face blazing red. “That’s—that’s improper! I should be washing your back!” She spun and fled toward the bathhouse, nearly tripping over her own feet.

Xiulan followed with a happy trill escaping her throat.

The bath was quick but pleasant; steam curled around her as she stepped out, wrapping herself in a soft cotton robe. Mei Chen appeared in the doorway, already dressed in fresh clothes with her damp hair neatly braided.

“Miss Xiulan, please let me attend to your hair properly.” Mei Chen gestured to a low cushioned seat. “It’s been neglected these past days.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Mei.”

The wooden comb slid through Xiulan’s dark strands with practiced precision. Each stroke sent pleasant tingles across her scalp. Xiulan closed her eyes and savored the peaceful moment.

“Is that enough?” Xiulan asked a little while later; Mei Chen showed no hint of stopping.

“Oh no, miss! Only two hundred strokes so far—eight hundred remain.” Mei Chen continued her methodical combing.

Xiulan released a dramatic puff of air. “A thousand?”

“Yes, miss. That’s the proper number.” Mei Chen paused. “Should I increase it?”

“No, no. Carry on.” Xiulan closed her eyes, surrendering to the rhythmic strokes. The gentle tugging at her scalp melted away the lingering tension from their morning workout. Perhaps I should ask for a back massage, too...

Quick footsteps approached, and a servant bowed, extending a folded paper. “A message for you, Miss Lin.”

Xiulan broke the seal and scanned the contents.

“Good news, miss?” Mei Chen asked without breaking her steady combing rhythm.

“Official Bo Qin agreed to meet us at the administration building this morning.” Xiulan straightened. “He seems willing to investigate Zhang Huan and the sandalwood incident.”

“Mmm,” Mei Chen hummed softly. “Just a few more minutes to finish, miss.”

Anticipation coursed through Xiulan’s veins, urging her to spring into action. But Mei Chen’s firm grip on her hair and unwavering focus kept her anchored to the cushion. Since when did my little maid gain such authority?

“All finished, miss.” Mei Chen stepped back from the cushion.

Xiulan sprang up, adjusting her robes. “Perfect! Let’s—”

“Miss! Your hair braids!” Mei Chen grabbed Xiulan’s sleeve. “And the hairpin!”

A groan escaped Xiulan’s lips as she slumped back onto the cushion. “You’ll make me look like some spoiled princess.”

“Yes!” Mei Chen beamed with such genuine warmth that Xiulan’s protests died in her throat.

The next hour crawled by as Mei Chen wove intricate patterns into Xiulan’s hair. Each twist and turn was completed with absolute precision, punctuated by the occasional sharp tug when Xiulan fidgeted too much.

“We’re just going to the administration building.” Xiulan drummed her fingers against her knee. “Only stuffy officials and dusty ledgers await us there. It doesn’t matter…”

Mei Chen lifted her chin, meeting Xiulan’s gaze in the bronze mirror. “Of course it matters! You’ve been running around without maintaining proper appearances.” She secured another pin with practiced efficiency. “A proper lady must always present herself well.”

Xiulan adopted her most innocent expression, though her thoughts drifted to the cultivation materials on the way. What will you do, little Mei Chen, when I start breaking bones and cracking meridians?

Xiulan reached for the lacquered writing box on the nearby table, careful not to disturb Mei Chen’s precise movements with her hair. The ink brush glided across fresh paper as she penned two brief notes—one to Mother and another to Lan Zhao—explaining her destination and expressing gratitude for their support.

“There.” She pressed her seal into the ink and marked both messages. “Please deliver these immediately.”

A servant bowed and departed with the letters while Mei Chen secured the final ornament in Xiulan’s elaborate hairstyle.

Finally, they could go!

Two guards fell into step behind them as they exited the courtyard.

Morning sun warmed the cobblestones as they approached the imposing administrative pavilion, its sweeping eaves casting intricate shadows across the courtyard where clerks and officials hurried about their business. A scholarly official in pressed robes intercepted them at the entrance, adjusting his cap as he approached.

“How may I assist you today?” The official’s gaze flickered between Xiulan and her escorts.

Mei Chen stepped forward, spine straight. “The Second Daughter of the Lin Family is here for her meeting with Official Bo Qin as promised!”

“Ah, yes.” The official dipped into a practiced bow to Xiulan. “Please follow me while Official Bo is notified of your arrival.”

They followed him through winding corridors lined with shelves of scrolls and ledgers, the scent of ink and paper permeating the air. Their guide slid open an ornate door, revealing an intimate tea room furnished with carved chairs and reading tables.

“Please make yourselves comfortable.” The official gestured inside. “A servant will attend to you shortly.”

True to his word, a servant appeared moments later carrying a tea tray. The young man arranged cups with practiced efficiency and poured steaming liquid into each vessel before withdrawing with another bow.

Xiulan retrieved her silver poison-sensing needle from within her sleeve. With subtle movements, she dipped the metal into her cup, watching for any telltale discoloration. The silver remained unchanged. She caught Mei Chen’s eye and nodded slightly.

Mei Chen’s face drained of color as understanding dawned. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted her own cup.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor before Bo Qin appeared in the doorway. The middle-aged official bowed deeply, his scholarly robes rustling against the wooden floor.

“Miss Lin, I trust you’re well?” Bo Qin straightened and adjusted his cap. “Cousin Lan’s note reached me this morning.”

“Official Qin.” Xiulan gestured to the empty seat. “Thank you for meeting us so promptly.”

Bo Qin settled onto the cushioned chair and produced several scrolls from his sleeves. “I’ve gathered some preliminary documents, though it would help if you explained the situation directly.”

Xiulan took a measured sip of tea. “We encountered a group of woodsmen on the road—injured and homeless after a suspicious fire destroyed their workshop.” She described the details of their encounter, the timing of the blaze, Zhang Huan’s involvement in their eviction, and the failure of the Lin estate to take care of them.

“Most peculiar.” Bo Qin stroked his short beard. “The timing, in particular, raises questions. Aid should have been immediate, yet they were cast off until you found them.” He spread several documents across the table. “These detail Zhang Huan’s dealings within the estate. Fifteen years of service creates quite a paper trail.”

“You prepared these already?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow.

“When Cousin Lan sends a note, one learns to be thorough.” Bo Qin stood. “Let me fetch the additional records while you review these.”

After Bo Qin departed, Xiulan and Mei Chen pored over the documents. Numbers filled countless columns: land transactions, revenue reports, and property assignments spanning years of meticulous record-keeping.

“Miss Xiulan, look at these figures.” Mei Chen traced a finger down a column. “The income from his managed properties has decreased significantly.”

Xiulan compared the earliest records to recent entries. The difference startled her—revenue had dropped to less than half its original amount. Each reduction came with neat explanations: poor harvests, maintenance costs, market fluctuations. Viewed individually, each note seemed reasonable. But combined with the woodsmen’s situation...

Bo Qin returned, arms laden with fresh scrolls. The weathered paper rustled as he spread them across the table. “These contain merchant records detailing sandalwood trade throughout the county.”

Xiulan unrolled the nearest scroll, scanning the neat columns of transactions. One detail leaped from the page. “House Chao holds exclusive rights alongside us?” She tapped the merchant seal. “Madam Zhang’s family maintains the only other sandalwood operation in Blackmere?”

“Indeed.” Bo Qin adjusted his cap. “While sandalwood represents a modest portion of our overall commerce, it generates substantial revenue.” He pulled out a ledger and pointed to the bottom line. “The Lin family earns nearly a million taels annually from this venture alone.”

A sharp intake of breath drew Xiulan’s attention. Mei Chen pressed both hands against her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

Xiulan expelled a long breath through her nose. “How did such significant dealings escape my father’s notice?”

“An excellent question.” Bo Qin straightened his robes. “If you prefer not to address this matter yourself, I can find appropriate channels to bring these concerns to Lord Lin’s attention.”

The implications twisted through Xiulan’s mind like thorny vines. “Please wait.” She smoothed the scroll before her. “I need time to investigate thoroughly. There might be more evidence to uncover.”

Bo Qin’s brow furrowed. “What exactly do you suspect?”

“These events might seem unrelated.” Xiulan leaned forward. “But what if Zhang Huan’s actions form part of a larger scheme? A calculated effort to undermine House Lin?” She lowered her voice. “Consider the possibility that Madam Zhang orchestrated this to funnel funds from our family directly to House Chao.”

Bo Qin straightened his robes and nodded. “I’ll continue investigating discreetly. Some of my clerks can be trusted to help compile additional records.” He sat down and began to ink multiple letters.

Xiulan leaned closer to examine another scroll. Beside her, Mei Chen devoured document after document. The young maid’s natural talent for numbers startled her—she’d never have guessed her quiet servant possessed such skills.

Sunlight shifted across the floor as hours passed. Xiulan rubbed her temples, fighting off a headache from the endless columns and tables.

“We need to take a break,” she said, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension. “Official Bo, might I borrow some of these documents? I’d like to study them more thoroughly.”

Bo Qin hesitated, fingers drumming against his desk. He stared at the bronze-colored scrolls for several seconds. “These are official records...”

“I’ll ensure their safe return.” Xiulan met his gaze steadily. “You have my word.”

“Very well.” Bo Qin relented with a quick bow. “Please handle them with utmost care.”

He produced a lacquered box, and Mei Chen began arranging the scrolls with methodical precision. Each document nestled perfectly against the others, protected by layers of silk cloth.

After a promise to converse on the matter more the next day, Xiulan led the way toward the exit. As they walked through the corridors, Mei Chen glanced at the box in her arms.

“What will you do with all this information, miss?” she asked.

“If these records prove Madam Zhang’s involvement, we could finally—” Xiulan paused as a clerk hurried past.

“But miss, shouldn’t we leave well enough alone? Your mother already won the last confrontation.”

Xiulan pulled Mei Chen into an alcove. “This won’t end because of one victory. Mother’s challenge knocked them off balance, but they’ll strike back harder now.”

“But everything’s been so peaceful these past two days.” Mei Chen clutched the document box tighter.

“That’s exactly what worries me.” Xiulan shook her head. “This quiet? It’s just the calm before the storm.”

“I hope you’re wrong, miss,” Mei Chen whispered, eyes downcast.

Her guards rejoined them as soon as she was out of the building, and the trip back to her courtyard was uneventful.

When she rounded the corner into her courtyard, Xiulan paused at the sight of gathered servants. Lan Zhao stood at their head, straight-backed and dignified despite her age.

“Miss Xiulan.” Lan Zhao bowed. “I’ve completed the staff selection. Half come from your mother’s trusted circle, and the rest proved their loyalty through years of dedicated service.”

The assembled servants bowed in unison. Xiulan studied their faces—some familiar, others new, but all bore expressions of sincere dedication.

“Thank you all for choosing to serve in my household.” Xiulan smiled warmly. “Your trust means everything.” She turned to Lan Zhao. “Let’s celebrate with a proper tea ceremony in the main hall.”

“An excellent suggestion, miss.” Lan Zhao gestured for the servants to follow.

Xiulan strode toward the main hall, her steps light with anticipation. The polished wood of the door felt cool beneath her fingers as she slid it open.

A dark shape dangled from the ceiling.

Screams erupted behind her. The putrid stench hit next: a nauseating mix of rotting meat and excrement that burned her nostrils. Xiulan pressed her sleeve against her face, squinting through watering eyes at the grotesque display.

Straw poked through crude stitching, packed with soil and dung. Strips of decomposing flesh hung from the creation like obscene decorations. The scarecrow twisted slowly on its rope, dripping foul liquid onto the polished floor.

Stolen Wind

The blade that strikes fastest often cuts deepest, but the warrior who strikes without thought bleeds first. In the moment of crisis, stillness becomes your shield, and wisdom your sword.
—Sage Master Chen Feng, Voice of the Four Winds

Dawn painted the courtyard in muted colors as Xiulan faced her assembled guards. The men avoided eye contact, their shoulders hunched with collective shame. Yesterday’s discovery of the grotesque scarecrow cast a dark shadow over their newly formed unit.

The mystery of how someone infiltrated their secured residence gnawed at everyone. Not a single guard reported unusual activity. No servant witnessed anything suspicious. The calculated precision of the attack achieved its goal—sowing seeds of doubt among her people before they could properly bond.

Sweat trickled down Xiulan’s back as she led the morning exercises. Without access to her meridians, the physical strain burned through her muscles. Still, she pushed forward. Building a strong foundation now would pay dividends later.

“Hold!” Instructor Han’s sharp command cut through the morning air. He stepped forward, scanning the assembled guards with a critical eye. “You four—stay behind.” He pointed to select individuals from the group. The rest moved off to take care of their morning duties.

Xiulan accepted a cloth from Mei Chen, dabbing at her forehead. The young maid fidgeted beside her.

“Aren’t we finished, miss?” Mei Chen glanced at the dispersing guards.

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “Now comes the interesting part—weapon training.”

“Oh...” Mei Chen’s eyes widened as Han distributed wooden practice weapons among those who remained.

“Line up!” Han barked. “Everyone! Including you two.” He thrust practice spears toward Xiulan and Mei Chen.

Xiulan gripped the wooden practice spear, its weight unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. The morning sun cast long shadows across the training yard as Han positioned himself before the small group.

“The spear extends your reach, but a misplaced thrust leaves you vulnerable.” Han demonstrated the starting stance. “Right foot forward, right hand at chest level.”

Xiulan mirrored his position, adjusting her grip when Han shook his head. The wooden shaft pressed against her palm as she raised the tip to eye level. Beside her, Mei Chen struggled to maintain the proper stance, the practice weapon wavering in her grasp.

“Point between your opponent’s eyes.” Han tapped Xiulan’s spear higher. “This guards your head while maintaining threat.”

Sweat beaded on Xiulan’s forehead as she held the position. The spear was heavy—filled with lead? The muscles in her arms burned from the morning’s earlier exercises, but she refused to lower the weapon. Han walked through their small group, making minor corrections to stances and grips.

“Now, the short thrust.” Han demonstrated the motion: sharp, controlled, deadly. “No foot movement. Left hand stays at your center.”

Xiulan pushed forward with her right arm, keeping her feet planted. The spear tip shot out like a striking snake. Her left hand remained steady near her solar plexus, anchoring the movement. Ten times she repeated the motion, each thrust more precise than the last.

“Long-range thrust next.” Han extended his own spear in a fluid motion. “Left hand slides under your right arm. Full extension.”

The group practiced in unison, wooden spears cutting through the morning air. With each repetition, Xiulan focused on maintaining her eye-level tip alignment.

Next came a combination drill.

“Short thrust, retract, long thrust, retract. Five cycles.” Han punctuated each word with precise movements.

The wooden shaft grew slick with sweat as Xiulan executed the combination. Her muscles burned from the repetitive motion, but each thrust grew more controlled. Beside her, Mei Chen struggled to maintain her form, the spear wobbling with each retraction.

“Higher tip, Mei Chen.” Han tapped her spear upward. “Never expose your face.”

The four guards moved in unison through their drills, their movements flowing smoother than Xiulan’s attempts. The morning sun climbed higher, and the shadows shortened.

“Angle slash.” Han shifted his stance. “Left hand at the plexus, right hand raised.”

Xiulan mimicked his position. The downward slash felt natural, at least.

“Good control.” Han nodded at her form. “Now combine the slash with a long thrust.”

She worked through the new combination. The wooden spear cut through the air in controlled arcs, each movement building on the last.

“Switch hands,” Han ordered.

The familiar movements became awkward as Xiulan reversed her grip. The spear felt unwieldy in her left hand, but she pressed on. Each repetition brought minor improvements, her body adapting to the reversed position.

Instructor Han lowered his practice spear and studied their forms with an appraising eye. “Regular practice will strengthen your foundations. The spear teaches discipline that transfers to all combat styles. That will be all for today.”

Xiulan glanced at the four guards who remained behind. “Was their presence necessary for today’s lesson?”

“Mei Chen appears drained, and I believe you are hiding your own strain, miss.” Han adjusted his stance. “We’ll incorporate sparring sessions later, but today we focused on basics.”

“I can barely lift my arms,” Mei Chen admitted while slumping against her practice spear. Sweat darkened the collar of her training clothes.

“We should take it easy this evening.” Xiulan rolled her shoulders, feeling the burn of overworked muscles.

Han nodded in approval. “Skip tonight’s session entirely. Rest will serve you better than pushing too hard too soon.”

“Thank you for the instruction.” Xiulan bowed to Han and the guards before turning toward the bathhouse.

Mei Chen hurried alongside her. “Your hair needs attention again, miss. The training completely—”

“Five hundred brush strokes maximum this time.” Xiulan wiped the sweat from her brow.

“But miss!” Mei Chen’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s not nearly enough to—”

“We’re meeting Official Qin later. We can’t spend hours on my hair.”

They rounded the corner and nearly collided with Auntie Lan.

The elderly maid’s stern gaze swept over their disheveled training clothes. “This is wholly unacceptable for someone of your station.”

“We need to learn self-defense.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “Moving freely is essential for proper training.”

Instead of the expected lecture about proper ladylike behavior, Auntie Lan’s expression softened. She smoothed her apron with practiced hands. “Acceptable outfits exist for ladies who wish to train, but these guard uniforms invite scandal and gossip.”

“Every dress I’ve worn restricts leg movement.” Xiulan tugged at her damp clothing.

Auntie Lan lifted her chin. “Clean yourselves up. We’ll visit the market together and select appropriate attire.”

The promise of a solution propelled Xiulan and Mei Chen toward the bathhouse. Steam rose from the heated water as they scrubbed away the morning’s exertion.

“Auntie Lan rivals your mother in fearsomeness,” Mei Chen said as she dunked a cloth in the water.

Xiulan released a slow breath and nodded. “I almost forgot who was in charge.”

“I’m just glad Miss Xiulan isn’t so strict.” Mei Chen splashed water playfully.

Xiulan grinned. “Wisdom and common sense can be the best authorities. Suppressing them for rank would be a bad idea.”

The warm water soothed Xiulan’s aching muscles as Mei Chen worked methodically across her back. Steam curled around them, carrying the subtle scent of jasmine oil. Once she was clean, they moved to the table, and Mei Chen started working with the comb.

It was nice, but she had too much excited energy to relax like the day before.

“Not too much.” Xiulan lifted a hand. “Two hundred strokes maximum and a simple braid.”

“But miss—”

“We have business to attend to. Even the five hundred I promised earlier is too much.”

Mei Chen sighed dramatically but complied, working efficiently to style Xiulan’s hair into a practical braid. The familiar motions of getting dressed followed, each layer settling into place.

Auntie Lan waited in the courtyard garden, surrounded by the morning glory vines that climbed the latticed walls. Two guards fell into formation as they set out toward the market district. The familiar storefront of the dress shop came into view, its carved wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze.

Xiulan frowned at the display window. The selection had seemed limited during her last visit—mostly formal robes and ceremonial wear. In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, female characters wore practical training clothes that combined elegance and mobility. She’d never seen such garments in reality, but perhaps...

The shopkeeper rushed to greet them, promptly hanging a “Closed for Private Service” sign on the door.

Before Xiulan could speak, Auntie Lan stepped forward.

“The private collection,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Training wear suitable for a young lady of status.”

The shopkeeper bobbed a series of quick bows and disappeared behind a screened doorway. Moments later, assistants emerged carrying armfuls of clothing Xiulan had never seen displayed before. The fabrics ranged from sturdy cotton to lightweight silk.

But… she wasn’t sure how this would help. They were pretty enough, but they still had cloth that ran almost to the ankle. Earth-toned fabrics shimmered with delicate gold trim—beautiful yet seemingly impractical for training.

Xiulan started to ask when, without a word, Auntie Lan grasped the skirt of the nearest dress and pulled. The fabric split cleanly, revealing fitted trousers underneath.

“Oh...” Xiulan breathed out softly. The clever design was familiar.

“Look at this!” Mei Chen darted forward, running her fingers along the hidden seams. “The way these hems split will let us move freely during practice!”

“Indeed.” Auntie Lan smoothed the panels back into place. “When standing still, they maintain proper appearance. No one need know about the trousers beneath.”

A polite smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. The whole concept of hiding trousers seemed ridiculous. When in Rome…

“We’ll take all of them.” Xiulan nodded to the seamstress.

“Of course, Miss Lin. I have your measurements on file—”

“Take Mei Chen’s measurements as well.”

The seamstress froze. Auntie Lan’s eyebrows shot up. Even Mei Chen stared at Xiulan with wide eyes.

Xiulan’s gaze lingered on the seamstress. “Two dresses for Mei Chen as well,” she ordered.

Mei Chen fidgeted nervously, but she submitted to having her measurements taken. The seamstress worked quickly, wrapping the measuring tape around Mei’s waist and shoulders. Xiulan watched with a smug smile, enjoying the grumpy expression that formed on her maid’s face.

“Miss Xiulan, I have some business to discuss with the tailor,” Auntie Lan said, her voice gentle yet firm. “You two can go on ahead.”

Xiulan and Mei Chen bowed deeply. “Thank you for your help, Auntie Lan,” Xiulan said.

Outside the shop, Mei Chen pouted, her cheeks puffed in mild frustration. “Miss Xiulan, I’m your maid, not a soldier!”

Xiulan chuckled, leading them toward the administrative building. “You’ve been doing all kinds of things lately, Mei Chen. Training the last two days should have prepared you.”

Mei Chen looked away, her voice low. “I did expect it, which makes it all the more frustrating!”

Xiulan glanced at her. “I intend to keep you by my side wherever I go.”

Mei Chen’s cheeks turned red in a full blush. “I’d like to stay with you too, miss,” she mumbled.

Xiulan smiled warmly. The guards followed closely behind them as they walked through the bustling market street, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the sharp tang of herbs from nearby stalls.

They reached the administrative building and repeated the greeting ritual from the day before. A servant led them to the same private room.

Mei Chen set down the box of records with a determined look, her fingers brushing over the worn edges.

Xiulan frowned as the documents spread before her. She had pored over them the night before, hoping to uncover some hidden clue about the sandalwood revenues. But documents that would seal the connection to Madam Zhang were missing. Hopefully, Bo Qin would bring them today.

“Maybe we missed something,” Xiulan muttered, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Mei Chen nodded. “Perhaps another look will reveal more.”

They settled into their seats, the silence punctuated only by the rustling of parchment. Xiulan traced her finger along the columns of figures, searching for patterns or discrepancies. The minutes stretched into an hour, and still, no new insights emerged.

The teapot sat empty on the table, its contents long gone. Xiulan’s restlessness grew. She drummed her fingers on the wood, her gaze flicking to the door.

A servant entered, bowing deeply. “Miss Lin, we have not yet located Official Qin. Your wait may be prolonged.”

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. “How much longer?”

The servant hesitated. “It is uncertain, Miss Lin. We are doing our utmost to find him.”

He refilled the teapot with fresh leaves and hot water before retreating silently. Xiulan poured herself a cup, the fragrant steam rising to meet her. She took a sip, but the tea did little to soothe.

Another hour passed. The tension in the room thickened like an invisible fog. Mei Chen glanced at Xiulan, worry etched across her features.

“Miss...” Mei Chen’s voice trembled slightly.

Xiulan looked up from the records, meeting Mei Chen’s concerned gaze.

She released a long breath, the tension draining from her shoulders. “Haa... this isn’t great. Official Qin is missing?” She tapped her fingers against the polished table's surface. “What do you think are the chances he just forgot today was his day off?”

“Officials don’t get days off in the middle of the week, miss.” Mei Chen folded her hands in her lap.

The implications settled like a cold weight in her stomach. “Pack up the documents. We’ll head back to Mother’s courtyard. I still haven’t discussed Lan Yue’s letter with her.”

Mei Chen nodded and gathered the scattered papers with practiced efficiency, sorting them into neat stacks before returning them to their box.

Before heading back, there was one thing she needed to do first. “Also, I need to speak with Jin Wei about organizing some equipment for tomorrow’s Treasure Pavilion delivery.” Xiulan stood, straightening her robes.

“Shall we stop at the pharmacy then, miss?” Mei Chen secured the box under her arm.

“Yes.” Xiulan strode toward the door.

A servant hurried past in the hallway. Xiulan raised her hand to halt him. “When Official Qin is found, have him send a note. We cannot wait any longer today.”

The servant dropped into a deep bow. “Of course, Miss Lin. I will ensure your message reaches him immediately upon his return.”

Xiulan stepped into the afternoon sunlight, squinting against the glare reflecting off the administrative building’s white stone walls. Their two guards fell into formation—one ahead, one behind—as she and Mei Chen passed beneath the ornate gateway arch.

A dozen armed men materialized from the surrounding street, weapons glinting in the sun. Xiulan spun around to find more guards closing in from behind, cutting off any escape route. The circle tightened, boots scraping against cobblestones.

One man stepped forward, and Xiulan’s heart sank as she recognized his face: Luo Han, Madam Zhang’s spy.

“Halt!” He jabbed a finger toward Mei Chen. “That servant stands accused of stealing official documents!”

“What?” The word burst from Xiulan’s lips. Blood pounded in her ears as she processed the accusation.

Her two personal guards gripped their weapon hilts, muscles tensed. “Miss?” Their questioning tone carried equal measures of loyalty and uncertainty.

Xiulan’s teeth dug into her lower lip as she assessed their situation. The odds looked grim—fourteen against two, even if her guards proved loyal. Mei Chen clutched the document box to her chest, trembling. Terror widened her eyes as she stared at Xiulan.

Xiulan grabbed Mei Chen’s arm and lifted her chin defiantly. “This is my personal attendant. If you intend to take her, you must take me too!”

Luo Han smiled with malice. “Arrest Miss Lin Xiulan as well!”

Why couldn’t they have waited for just one more day?

Even with newly unlocked meridians, she could deal with a dozen guards. Or at least make them show respect!

The soldiers moved in and seized them.

Judgement Gale

The relationship between ruler and subject mirrors that of heaven and earth—each has its place, each its purpose. Yet when heaven grows tyrannical, even the most steadfast earth may crack and split. It is in these moments that true character reveals itself.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan crossed her arms and leaned against the cold stone wall, staring into the dimly lit corridor through iron bars. The musty air carried hints of mold and despair.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips—this marked her second arrest. The first had been in her previous life during a party gone wrong, spending twenty-four miserable hours waiting for her parents to show up. Of course, they never did, and she’d been released out of pity. If she’d been any younger, child services would probably have been contacted to come “rescue” her.

Mei Chen huddled in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The young maid’s shoulders trembled with each shallow breath. The sight stirred something protective in Xiulan’s chest.

Metal scraped against metal as Luo Han unlocked the ornate box on a table outside their cell. He spread the gold-decorated scrolls before an official with an exaggerated flourish.

“Look at these fools.” Luo Han’s laughter echoed off the stone walls. “Parading through the streets with stolen documents in broad daylight. I’ve never seen such brazen criminals.”

“Official Qin authorized me to take those scrolls,” Xiulan said, keeping her voice steady despite the rage building in her chest.

“Oh?” Luo Han’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “That would be quite difficult to prove, wouldn’t it? Especially since no one can seem to locate Official Qin.”

Xiulan’s fingernails dug crescents into her palms. The implications behind his smug tone confirmed her worst suspicions. She flexed her fingers, fighting to maintain composure as pieces of the trap became clear.

“Since Official Qin cannot be found, it only makes sense to delay any investigation until he can corroborate my statement.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “I am the Second Daughter of the Lin Family. Release us immediately and show proper respect, Guard Han.”

Luo Han swept into an exaggerated bow, his movements dripping with mockery. “Of course, Second Daughter.”

The official gathered the gold-decorated scrolls with careful hands. “These appear genuine. I must present them to Lord Lin and First Wife Zhang immediately.”

Ice crystallized in Xiulan’s veins. “My father and Madam Zhang are already holding court on this matter?”

Luo Han’s only response was a dark chuckle as he followed the official out of the court’s holding cell room.

Xiulan grabbed the iron bars, muscles straining as she pulled. The lock mechanism caught her attention—a simple design, but one that required a key. The metal felt cold against her palms as she tested its strength.

“Miss Xiulan.” Mei Chen’s whisper echoed in the dim cell. “Please don’t draw attention. They seem to want only me—don’t get yourself in trouble, too.”

Raw fury blazed through Xiulan’s chest. “That will never happen.”

Fear coiled in her stomach. While the rank of Second Daughter might shield her from the worst outcomes, Mei Chen held no such protection. The thought sent tremors through her arms as she rattled the bars.

Calm down.

The iron bars remained unyielding as she forced herself to think through the trap they’d walked into.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor far sooner than Xiulan expected. Two guards approached the cell, keys jangling against their belts.

“Maid Chen. Come with us,” the taller guard said, unlocking the cell door.

Xiulan stepped between them and Mei Chen. “I’ll accompany her.”

The guards exchanged confused glances. “Miss Lin, you weren’t summoned.”

“Move aside,” the shorter guard ordered as he reached past Xiulan.

She planted her feet firmly, blocking his path. Behind her, Mei Chen stood and tugged at the fabric of her dress.

“Listen carefully.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “You’ll need to beat the Second Daughter of the Lin family to death to reach my maid today. Shall we see how Father responds to that after what happened a few days ago?”

The taller guard rubbed his temples. “Miss Lin—”

“The lord demands the maid’s presence immediately,” the other interrupted.

“Then I’ll join her.” Xiulan eyed the metal cuffs hanging from the shorter guard’s belt. “And those won’t be necessary.”

The shorter guard threw up his hands. “Fine. Just come along before we all get in trouble.”

The guards steered them through a narrow side entrance into the grand court chamber.

Great. Back in this room again. At this rate, I should request a permanent seat.

“Why is Lin Xiulan here?” Madam Zhang’s sharp voice cut through the chamber. “We summoned only the criminal responsible for stealing administrative documents.”

Xiulan squeezed her hands into tight fists, fingernails biting into her palms. The casual condemnation of Mei Chen burned like acid in her stomach.

“Honored Father, Honored Mother.” Xiulan bowed with precise formality. “As Mei Chen serves as my personal maid, my presence here follows naturally.”

Lord Lin slumped forward on his throne. “Must you constantly stand at the center of every disturbance in this household?”

“Perhaps certain restless birds peck at me because they believe the tree belongs solely to them.” Xiulan straightened from her bow. “They seem unwilling to share even a single branch.”

Blood rushed to Lord Lin’s face, turning it a dangerous shade of crimson. Xiulan bit her lower lip hard enough to taste copper.

Shit. That metaphor might have been a step too far. But damn, it felt good to say.

Xiulan’s heart thundered against her ribs. Mei Chen trembled beside her, and every instinct screamed to lash out—but that would only make things worse. She needed precision, not passion.

Xiulan dropped into a deep bow. “Father, please forgive my impudent words. The stress of recent events has addled my thoughts.”

The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but she forced them out anyway. One wrong move now could doom Mei Chen.

“Rise.” Lord Lin’s stern voice echoed through the chamber. “Your maid was caught with official documents in her possession. The guards witnessed this directly. There can be no question of her guilt.”

Xiulan straightened, keeping her face carefully neutral as Lord Lin continued.

“The sentence is eighty lashes. If she survives, she will be banished from Blackmere County.”

The sentence struck Xiulan’s chest like a physical blow, and a choked sound escaped Mei Chen’s throat. Whispers rippled through the assembled crowd like wind through the cherry trees.

The punishment seemed merciful on its surface—theft of official documents typically earned quartering by horses or a clean beheading. But eighty lashes? That was just execution with extra steps, drawn out and painful.

Behind her silk fan, Madam Zhang’s eyes glittered with cruel satisfaction. The calculated mercy of the sentence suddenly made perfect sense.

They think they’re showing generosity while still ensuring Mei Chen dies. Clever.

Xiulan stepped forward, her silk robes rustling against the marble floor. “Mei Chen acted solely on my instructions. The responsibility lies with me alone. She carried those documents at my behest.”

“Miss Lin, please.” Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s sleeve.

Xiulan shrugged off the gentle touch. “Release her. If someone must answer for this, it should be me.”

A sharp laugh cut through the chamber. Madam Zhang snapped her fan shut with a crack. “How predictable. The foolish girl tries to shield her conniving little maid.” She turned to Lord Lin. “Perhaps this servant has addled our daughter’s senses with some herb or potion?”

The accusation sparked fresh anger in Xiulan’s chest.

Lord Lin leaned forward on his throne, eyes narrowing. “Why did you remove these documents from the administrative building?”

“Official Qin granted permission.” Xiulan frowned at the memory. Something nagged at the edge of her thoughts.

“Impossible!” Lord Lin’s fist crashed against his armrest. “No official holds the authority to release gold-sealed documents from those halls. Even you, as Second Daughter, must abide by these laws.”

Gold seals? The memory of studying the scrolls by candlelight flashed through Xiulan’s mind. The ornate seal had gleamed gold in the flickering light, but earlier...

Ice spread through her veins as realization struck. The seal had been bronze in the study when they had been working with Official Qin. At some point during the long hours, someone had switched the documents.

Xiulan dropped into a formal bow. “Father, I believed the scrolls to be bronze-sealed copies. After receiving Official Qin’s blessing, I thought nothing more of it.”

“Why seek these documents at all?” Lord Lin’s question cracked like a whip.

“Does it matter?” Madam Zhang interrupted. “The crime remains—”

Lord Lin spun toward her, face flushed with rage. “Silence!”

Xiulan squared her shoulders, facing her father directly. “During our return journey to the Lin Family Estate, we encountered woodsmen—dozens of them injured and starving. These weren’t mere vagrants. They worked for our family’s sandalwood enterprise until recently.”

“None of this bears relevance to—” Madam Zhang started.

Lord Lin slammed his fist against his throne. “Enough!” The sound echoed through the chamber. “I am the lord of this county, not you! One more interruption, and the guards will remove you from these proceedings!”

Xiulan released a slow breath as silence fell over the chamber. The marble floor gleamed beneath her feet, reflecting the tension crackling through the air.

Lord Lin gestured sharply. “Continue.”

“A fire destroyed their workshops and homes.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “Yet the circumstances proved suspicious. Despite the buildings being scattered across the property, every structure burned.” She paused, letting the implications sink in. “Official Zhang Huan evicted all the workers immediately after.”

The crowd’s whispers grew louder.

Lord Lin leaned forward on his throne. “And this prompted your investigation?”

“Indeed.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “This workshop supplied all of Blackmere County’s sandalwood production. The enterprise earned our family approximately one million taels annually, but Official Zhang Huan has been reporting decreased profits every year. Now, they are only half of what they were fifteen years ago. The records confirm that, but Official Qin and I suspected a darker issue than what is presented.”

“Why did you not bring this to my attention immediately?” Lord Lin’s eyes narrowed.

Xiulan glanced pointedly at Madam Zhang. “I needed absolute certainty before making accusations. Blackmere County grants only two licenses for the luxury sandalwood trade. The second belongs to House Chao.”

Lord Lin’s fingers curled into tight fists against his armrests. The tendons in his neck strained as his jaw clenched.

Madam Zhang leaned close to Lord Lin’s ear, whispering something Xiulan couldn’t catch. Lord Lin’s face darkened to a dangerous shade of red as he turned to glare at his wife.

His attention snapped back to Xiulan.

Lord Lin’s stern expression softened slightly. “Your investigation shows admirable dedication to our family’s interests. As a noble daughter of Lin, protecting our reputation and caring for those under our protection falls within your duties. I will not reproach such actions.”

Relief flickered through Xiulan’s chest—until her father’s face hardened again.

“However, the matter of the stolen scrolls cannot be overlooked. You may continue your investigation, but Maid Chen must face punishment for her crime.”

Pain lanced through Xiulan’s chest. She stepped sideways, positioning herself between the thrones and Mei Chen.

She dropped into another bow. “Father, I cannot allow that.”

Lord Lin stiffened. “You cannot allow it?”

The words hung in the air like storm clouds. Xiulan straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Mei Chen serves as my personal maid and has done so faithfully. She belongs to me, not to you. You cannot punish her without my consent.”

A cruel smile spread across Madam Zhang’s painted lips. “Perhaps you should whip them both, my lord.”

Xiulan watched her father’s face turn several shades darker as he processed her defiance. The muscles in his jaw twitched. She flicked her gaze to Madam Zhang before meeting her father’s burning stare.

“You are the Lord of the Lin family and Magistrate of Blackmere County. I will accept your judgment and punishment without question.” Xiulan pressed her hands together. “But my maid is innocent. I will take any punishment myself.”

“Do you think your mother’s earlier threats shield you from consequences?”

Xiulan shook her head. “The Third Concubine can have no complaint if I willingly accept your justice.”

Lord Lin rose from his throne, drawing to his full height. His deep voice echoed through the hall. “Eight lashes for my Second Daughter who removed documents from the administration building. Let this serve as a lesson—none can ignore the sanctity of this administration!”

“Impossible!” Madam Zhang sprang up beside him. “The sentence was eighty lashes!”

The crack of flesh meeting flesh split the air. Madam Zhang sprawled across the steps leading to the throne, her elaborate hairpiece scattering pearls across the marble.

“Ignorant woman!” Lord Lin thundered. “You dare compare my daughter’s blood to that of a commoner?” He jabbed a finger toward the guards. “Eight lashes! Carry out the sentence immediately, here in this hall!”

“Miss...” Mei Chen’s whisper scratched at Xiulan’s ears.

A guard approached with measured steps, the leather flail swaying at his side. Xiulan studied the braided strips: standard leather, no metal tips. The sight triggered memories of the game’s punishment mechanics for PKing other players. At least this won’t leave permanent scars.

The cold marble pressed against Xiulan’s knees as she knelt. Her fingers worked at her collar, loosening the elaborate silk until it slipped down to expose her back. The cool air raised goosebumps across her skin.

Mei Chen lurched forward. “Miss Xiulan, please—”

A guard’s grip locked around the maid’s arm, yanking her back. The sound of her struggles echoed off the chamber walls.

Xiulan shook her head, fixing her gaze straight ahead at the ornate tapestry on the far wall.

“Let Lord Lin punish his unruly daughter.” The words scraped past her dry throat.

The first crack of leather against flesh echoed through the chamber. White-hot pain blazed across her back, stealing her breath. A second strike followed before she could recover, forcing her to lean forward. The third lash tore a grunt from her throat as her palms slapped against the cold marble.

Tears streamed down her cheeks at the fourth strike. The fifth sent copper flooding her mouth as her teeth pierced her lip. By the sixth, a mixture of blood, tears, and saliva pooled beneath her face on the polished floor.

Her arms trembled with the effort to maintain some dignity through the seventh strike. The eighth and final lash carved fire across her already shredded skin. The world blurred into smears of color and light.

Every breath sent fresh waves of agony rippling through her back. She dragged her silk sleeve across her face, grateful for the thick fabric that absorbed the mess.

Lord Lin stared down from his throne with an expressionless mask. Beside him, Madam Zhang’s painted lips curved into a smile.

“My lord,” Madam Zhang purred. “The girl’s unusual attachment to this maid raises concerns. Allow me to question her. Who knows what schemes the commoner has concocted without proper supervision?”

“What?” The word gurgled from Xiulan’s raw throat.

Lord Lin waved his hand dismissively. “Take her for questioning.”

Xiulan surged to her feet, ignoring the screaming protest from her torn flesh. Her concealed dagger slipped into her palm as she yanked it free.

“You can’t take her!”

Rising Swell

In the pursuit of revenge, the wise cultivator first builds a foundation of strength. To strike too soon is to invite defeat; to wait too long is to miss opportunity. The perfect moment lies between haste and hesitation.
—Sage Master Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

It turned out that her father and his guards could, in fact, take Mei Chen.

The memory of six guards pinning her arms while another wrenched the dagger from her grip burned fresh in Xiulan’s mind. Mei Chen’s screams had pierced through the grand hall until they faded into distant echoes.

Lord Lin hadn’t even looked at her as the guards dragged her out. They’d allowed her one small mercy—a moment to adjust her robes before the walk of shame. Each step had sent waves of agony through her torn flesh as the silk clung to the fresh wounds.

The sun spilled across the courtyard stones as Xiulan passed under the ornate gate. Her personal guards formed a tight line, shoulders squared against the court assembly’s escort detail. Steel whispered against leather as hands rested on weapon hilts.

“I apologize for the trouble.” Xiulan drew a sharp breath as pain lanced through her back. “Please ensure no one enters tonight except those from Mother’s courtyard.”

Her guards moved with practiced precision, their coordinated steps blocking the pathway. The quiet efficiency of their movements eased some of the tension knotting her shoulders. Xiulan hurried through her garden, focusing on each careful step until she reached her chambers.

Servants materialized at her door with cloth and medicines.

“Leave me.” The words came out sharper than intended. She forced her breathing to steady. “Just bring tea.”

When the steaming cup arrived, Xiulan retrieved two of Jin Wei’s emergency pills. The medicine slid down with the drink, spreading coolness through her ravaged back. Even with that, she’d be in terrible shape for at least half a day.

The toxicity buildup could become dangerous, too.

The thought nagged at her as she considered how many medicines she’d consumed lately. Mortal remedies weren’t meant for repeated use. Unlike cultivators, they couldn’t easily remove toxins or buildup. But the choice between potential poisoning and immediate healing wasn’t really a choice at all.

She needed her strength to rescue Mei Chen.

Xiulan stared at an empty space on the floor. No matter what she did, the Treasure Pavilion’s delivery wouldn’t come faster. She needed more power—the lashing and Mei Chen’s capture proved that beyond doubt. Tomorrow required preparation.

The writing case clicked open under trembling fingers. She dipped the brush in ink, composing a detailed list for Doctor Jin Wei. Each stroke threatened to betray her emotions as she specified the medical equipment she’d meant to request earlier. A servant whisked the sealed message away.

Exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. Xiulan slumped forward, pressing her forehead against her forearm on the wooden table. The scent of blood—her blood—filled each breath.

Footsteps approached. “Miss Lin, please let us help you change.” The servant’s voice wavered. “The blood...”

Xiulan didn’t lift her head.

“Leave.”

The footsteps retreated, the resulting silence stretching until it snapped under the weight of her fatigue. Her eyes drifted closed.

Just a short rest.

“Xiulan?” Another voice intruded on her half-sleep.

“Go away.” The words slurred together.

“Will my daughter not allow her mother to check on her?” Zhao Lian’s gentle tone cut through the fog.

Xiulan lifted her head. The sight of her mother’s concerned face shattered something inside her. A sob caught in her throat.

Zhao Lian’s gentle hands settled on Xiulan’s shoulders, massaging with practiced care. “There, there. You’re quite a mess. Come with me. We’ll clean your face and examine your back.”

Xiulan attempted to resist at first but found herself guided by her mother’s insistent touch. “The servants will be scandalized by you attending me personally.”

“Tsk.” Zhao Lian steered her toward the bathing chamber. “The servants worry more about their young miss refusing proper care right now.”

In the bathing room, Xiulan stiffened as cool air brushed against her skin. The bloodied silk peeled away under her mother’s careful fingers, each movement precise and gentle.

“They took Mei Chen.” The words tumbled out in a broken whisper.

“I know, darling.” Zhao Lian dabbed at the crusted blood with a damp cloth. “I’ve written to Lord Lin on her behalf, though I doubt it will sway him much.”

Xiulan crossed her arms over her chest, muscles tensing as her mother examined the partially healed lash marks. “You didn’t threaten him again, did you?”

“No.” Zhao Lian sighed. “I could only praise the girl’s loyalty and dedication. Perhaps it will earn her better treatment.”

“I have to get her back.” Xiulan’s fingers dug into her arms.

“We’ll do everything possible.” Zhao Lian pressed a cool cloth against Xiulan’s forehead. “But first, you need rest and healing.”

Exhaustion dragged at Xiulan’s limbs, making even the simple act of standing feel like wading through mud. The afternoon sun still blazed outside, but her body screamed for rest.

“You’re right, Mother. I need to sleep.” Xiulan swayed slightly on her feet.

Zhao Lian wrapped a light silk robe around Xiulan’s shoulders, careful not to pull it tight against the healing lash marks. The familiar scent of jasmine wafted from her mother’s sleeves as she guided her toward the bed.

The silk sheets whispered against her skin as she eased down onto the mattress. Instead of leaving, Zhao Lian settled on the edge of the bed. Gentle fingers swept through Xiulan’s hair, untangling the dark strands with practiced care.

“Rest now, darling,” Zhao Lian said, tracing soothing patterns across her scalp.

Xiulan’s eyelids grew heavy as her mother’s rhythmic strokes lulled her toward sleep, the familiar comfort of vague childhood memories surrounding her like a warm blanket.

Xiulan blinked awake in the darkness, the dim yellow light of paper lanterns outside casting dancing shadows through the window screens. The expected pain failed to materialize as she stretched and rolled onto her back—the emergency pills had worked fast while she slept soundly through the day.

The wooden floorboards creaked under her feet as she lit an oil lamp. Its warm glow barely reached the corners of the room.

“Miss Lin?” A servant appeared in the doorway. “Do you require anything?”

“Bring my new martial dresses.” Xiulan selected one from the stack the servant presented. “Have this dyed black.”

“But Miss Lin, dying it now would ruin the—”

“I don’t care about the quality. Just do it.”

The servant bowed. “Yes, Miss Lin.”

“Did my earlier requests arrive?”

“They wait in the main room, Miss Lin.”

“Thank you.” Xiulan strode to inspect the delivery. A heavy iron cauldron dominated the space, surrounded by precise measuring scales, razor-sharp cutting implements, and a wooden crate packed with various combustible materials.

“Move everything to the back garden.” Xiulan pointed toward the door. The open air would serve better, provided the weather held and there was no rain.

The servants scrambled to comply. Xiulan retreated to her bathing chamber and changed into her spare training outfit.

The cloth hugged Xiulan’s legs like her favorite trousers from her past life, with extra fabric swirling around her legs. Each step brought a satisfying swish of cloth that somehow didn’t tangle itself as she strode into the back garden.

The servants positioned the last of her requested items near the stone wall.

“Leave me.” Xiulan grabbed a training spear from the weapons rack, the polished wood smooth beneath her fingers.

The spear cut through the night air as she practiced the basic forms. Thrust. Slash. Long thrust. Each movement flowed into the next, just as Instructor Han demonstrated. But simple drills wouldn’t prepare her for real combat.

Xiulan launched into improvised combinations. The spear tip traced deadly arcs as she darted across the garden. She rolled through the dirt, imagining dodging invisible blades. The weapon snapped forward from her crouched position.

In her mind, the guards who took Mei Chen fell before her strikes.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Her muscles burned with exhaustion as the training spear trembled in her grip. Still, she pushed on, leaping and striking until her legs threatened to give out.

Back in her chambers, Xiulan collapsed into a cushioned chair, the spear propped between her knees. Her eyes drifted shut.

“Miss Lin?” A servant’s voice pierced through her dreams. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

Morning. Morning brought the cultivation materials and, with it, hope for Mei Chen.

Xiulan bolted upright. “Tell the guards to prepare for departure.”

The servant’s eyes widened, but she bowed and hurried away.

Xiulan released a sharp breath. The time for training had ended.

Xiulan strode toward the gate, her steps purposeful despite the lingering muscle fatigue from the night’s training. Ten guards stood in perfect formation, their armor glinting in the early morning sun. Instructor Han stepped forward from his position at the front of the group.

“Miss Lin.” Instructor Han bowed. “What of our morning training? Does this sudden departure concern Maid Chen?” His weathered face creased with concern. “I understand your distress, but with our limited numbers, challenging Lord Lin’s authority would be—”

“Nothing so dramatic.” Xiulan cut him off with a wave. “We’re retrieving a package. One that requires swift and discreet handling.”

The tension visibly drained from the guards’ shoulders. Several exchanged relieved glances, clearly having anticipated a more dangerous mission.

“Form up.” Xiulan marched forward, forcing the guards to quicken their pace to match her stride. Their boots clicked against the cobblestones as they made their way through the waking streets.

The central sector’s main square was open, market stalls still empty in the pale morning light. A few early risers shuffled past, casting curious glances at their group. Xiulan positioned herself near the gate, scanning the entrance for any sign of movement.

“Miss Lin.” Instructor Han stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “If discretion is our goal, you standing here with ten armed guards might draw unwanted attention.”

Xiulan bit her lip. “You’re right, Instructor Han.” She turned to the assembled guards and pointed at a random one, who snapped to attention. “You. Watch for the delivery.”

She turned to look toward the center of the manor. “The rest of us can check on the woodsmen. Their courtyard should provide better cover nearby.”

The group followed her lead through the concourse. Morning dew dampened their boots as they crossed to the woodsman’s courtyard.

It was empty. Silent. A lone servant scrubbed the wooden floors inside.

Xiulan stormed through the door. “Where are they?”

The servant dropped her cleaning rag and pressed against the wall. “I-I don’t know, Miss Lin! Guards came yesterday and took them all.” She wrung her hands. “Administration ordered everything cleaned out this morning.”

Ice spread through Xiulan’s chest. The same people behind the landclaim fire had silenced the witnesses. Corruption festered while those in power turned blind eyes.

Father, do you truly not see what your new wife does? Or do you simply not care?

Among the scattered furniture, a sturdy wooden crate caught her attention. Xiulan sank onto it, the rough wood pressing through her training clothes.

“Rest.” She waved at the guards, who shifted uncertainly. “Instructor Han, send two more to watch for the delivery.”

“At once, Miss Lin.” Han gestured at two guards who departed with swift bows.

Xiulan closed her eyes, leaning back against the rough wooden crate. The steps for crafting the Meridian Opening Pill flowed through her mind: measure the spirit herbs, slice and grind them to precise consistency, heat the mixture at specific intervals. Each component required perfect timing.

“Miss Lin!” A guard sprinted into the courtyard, breath coming in quick gasps. “A cart bearing the Treasure Pavilion’s seal approaches.”

Xiulan jumped to her feet. “Move out. Now.”

The guards fell into formation as they marched toward the main gate. A simple wooden cart waited near the entrance, its driver shifting nervously on his seat. An official strutted toward the vehicle, chest puffed out with self-importance.

“This delivery requires proper—” The official’s words died as Xiulan stepped forward.

“The shipment is mine.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “I’ll handle this personally.”

The official’s mouth twisted into a frown before he bowed stiffly. “As you wish, Miss Lin.”

Xiulan directed the cart toward her courtyard. Each clip-clop of the horse’s hooves echoed like thunder in her ears. As they passed through narrow alleys, her fingers twitched near the space where her concealed dagger usually lay; the loss of it burned.

The tension drained from her shoulders as they passed through her courtyard gate. The driver hopped down and presented a thick ledger with both hands.

Xiulan scanned the inventory list. Her eyes widened. “There appears to be an error.”

“Error, miss?” The driver’s voice quavered.

“This ledger shows double the quantities I ordered.” Xiulan tapped the columns of numbers with her finger.

The driver bobbed his head. “Ah, Master Qingfeng anticipated your concern. He insisted this double quantity comes at no additional cost. Insurance, he called it, to ensure the best possible result.”

“Hah...” A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “Please convey my gratitude to Master Qingfeng.”

Sweet, metallic scents wafted from the crates as the guards unloaded them. Xiulan inspected each item: the deep crimson blood lotus petals gleamed with vital essence, thunder root crackled with latent energy, and the dawn serpent scales shimmered with an iridescent sheen.

The driver produced a silk-wrapped bundle. “The spirit stones, Miss Lin.”

Energy pulsed through the cloth as Xiulan accepted the package. Two distinct rhythms of power thrummed against her palms, resonating with something deep within. The strength of the connection surprised her. Maybe she’d get a good result from her cultivation after all…

“Thank you.” Xiulan dismissed the driver with a nod.

She turned to Instructor Han. “Have the guards move everything to the back garden.” Her gaze hardened. “I require absolute privacy for the next few hours. Draw steel if needed—no interruptions.”

Standard Alchemy and Meridian Opening

The first step in cultivation lies not in gathering power but in understanding the channels through which it flows. Like water seeking its course through stone, qi follows ancient pathways laid down in our very essence. To open these channels requires not brute force but patient wisdom—for the body knows its own nature and will yield its secrets to those who listen.
—Sage Master Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

Xiulan circled the stone table in her back courtyard, inspecting the delivered ingredients. Sunlight filtered through the garden’s cherry trees as the scents of the herbs mingled with fresh morning air.

Pure spring water splashed against bronze tools as she methodically cleaned each instrument. The mortar and pestle required extra attention—any contamination would ruin the entire batch.

She arranged the components in precise order: the dawn serpent scales glittered like captured starlight, the thunder root pulsed with power, and the blood lotus petals released a metallic sweetness.

The spirit stones were set to the side.

The stone cauldron sat heavy and cold. She stacked kindling beneath it.

She had done this so many times in the game that it felt like second nature. This was just… a more hands-on approach.

She struck the flint, and eventually, flames licked upward. It would take a while for the cauldron to come to the correct temperature.

Dawn serpent scales clinked against the mortar. Each methodical grind produced an iridescent powder that caught the sunlight. She pressed harder, reducing the scales to fine dust. Her already aching arms burned from the effort, but she maintained a steady rhythm. A silk sieve separated any remaining chunks—only the finest powder would suffice.

The thunder root required precise cuts. Xiulan drew her knife across the gnarled surface, peeling away translucent sections thinly enough to see through. Static electricity crackled between the slices as she laid them out to dry. It would take fifteen minutes exactly—she pulled out an hourglass and set it to counting.

While waiting, she separated the blood lotus petals from their stems. Each crimson petal contained precious essence. Too much pressure would destroy their properties, and too little would waste their potential. She pressed each one with calculated gentleness, releasing drops of blood-red liquid into a waiting bowl.

Xiulan lifted the two lesser spirit stones from their silk wrapping. The crystalline formations pulsed against her palms with stored energy. She placed them precisely in the cauldron’s center to maximize energy distribution.

The purified water splashed against the heated metal. Four cups—no more, no less. Steam rose in a burst she had to avoid and then continued in delicate wisps.

She watched intently, monitoring the surface for the telltale signs. Come on, just like in the game manual. Tiny bubbles formed along the bottom, rising in a steady stream.

She divided the dawn serpent scale powder into three equal portions on separate squares of parchment. The first portion scattered across the water’s surface in a shimmering cloud.

Eight clockwise stirs sent ripples of iridescent light through the mixture. The second portion followed, then eight more precise stirs. The final portion completed the sequence.

Xiulan adjusted the firewood beneath the cauldron, reducing the flames to a steady glow. The timer for the Thunder Root finished, and she quickly went to work grinding the slices in the mortar. She had little time to do this part—five minutes tops.

Thankfully, it only took her three.

The thunder root powder trickled through her fingers as she stirred counterclockwise. Static crackled across the surface with each addition.

Time stretched as she maintained the precise temperature. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the constant heat and concentration.

The blood lotus petals dropped one by one into the swirling mixture, each one dissolving in a small burst of red. The liquid shimmered with combined power as the minutes of simmering ticked by.

Wisps of vapor curled up from the cauldron’s surface. Xiulan yanked away several burning logs, scattering them across the stone courtyard. The mixture bubbled less vigorously as the heat decreased.

Each stir sent ripples of color through the liquid—from iridescent gold to deep crimson. The spirit stones pulsed rhythmically at the cauldron’s bottom, their energy merging with the swirling concoction. Xiulan counted each rotation, maintaining a steady pressure against the thickening mixture.

The color deepened with each passing of the ladle. Crimson darkened to blood-red, then stabilized into a rich garnet. Xiulan lifted the cauldron off its stand and set it on a cooling rack.

Steam rose in lazy spirals as she reset her hourglass. Ten minutes. Not a second more or less.

The morning breeze carried cherry blossoms across her workspace. One landed in the mixture; Xiulan plucked it out before it could contaminate the batch.

As the final grains of sand fell, Xiulan lifted the still-warm cauldron.

The mixture poured in a smooth stream into the waiting pill molds—each depression precisely measured to contain the correct dosage—before settling into perfect orbs. She pinched them shut tight, and a little squirt of excess liquid shot out. A string bound them.

The molds began to change color, mimicking the liquid inside.

One hour until they solidify.

Xiulan arranged her cleaning tools while she waited, and when she finished that, there was nothing left to do but fidget.

Xiulan paced the stone path, then checked the main residence. The morning air carried only bird songs and distant servant chatter—no sounds of approaching danger or schemes.

Why does everything feel too quiet?

She circled back to check the courtyard’s entrance again. Empty.

A glance at the garden’s sundial pushed her back to the workspace. The pills demanded attention, regardless of her paranoid thoughts.

Golden light emanated from the cooling molds, drawing her closer. The rich metallic sheen confirmed what thousands of hours in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles had taught her: perfect quality.

She undid the binding and then bonked the molds. Two perfect orbs rolled out.

Xiulan scooped up both pills with practiced care. After rubbing them a little with a soft cloth to check for imperfections, she tucked one securely in an inner pocket. The remaining pill sat heavy in her palm, nearly as large as Jin Wei’s standard medicines.

Unfortunately, there was no way to make this specific pill any smaller than she had.

Nervous energy buzzed through her limbs as she studied the golden surface. The creation matched her gaming experience step by step.

She rolled the golden pill between her fingers. The cultivation process flashed through her mind—take the pill, open meridians, expel toxins. In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, those three steps launched characters into the first stage of Body Refinement.

It turned them from a forgettable and expendable NPC into a player-directable character.

The pill’s perfection offered her only reassurance. In the game, silver-grade pills killed characters regularly—most players shrugged off those deaths as minor setbacks. There were always more mortal recruits to pick from.

But golden pills guaranteed survival, even if the process turned horrific.

She could only hope that reality followed the same principle, because she really didn’t have a very good idea of how the meridian opening would work. Something about dantian, meridians, and… ugh.

She wished her lie about having a secret benefactor was true.

A bead of sweat rolled down Xiulan’s temple. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared at the pill.

No other option presented itself.

The soft power she wielded had failed to protect Mei Chen.

She settled onto the stone courtyard floor, crossing her legs to assume a meditative pose. The morning breeze rustled the branches overhead as she steadied her breathing.

The pill felt heavy on her tongue as she placed it there. With a quick motion, Xiulan gulped.

The pill settled like molten lead in her stomach. Heat radiated outward immediately, spreading through her core in unexpected waves. Every muscle tensed with an instinctive need to remain motionless.

Don’t move. Something’s happening.

Energy exploded through her body without warning. White-hot power surged along unfamiliar pathways, setting every nerve ending ablaze.

Xiulan pressed both palms against her stomach, teeth clenched against the overwhelming sensation. The force threatened to tear her apart.

Every breath burned. She forced herself to inhale deeply, desperately seeking any relief from the crushing pressure. The rhythmic breathing seemed to direct the chaotic energy—not much, but enough to notice.

She maintained the pattern, focusing on each inhale and exhale.

Something shifted deep inside her with the next breath. Energy responded, drawing inward like water flowing downstream. She struggled to control the flow, keeping her breathing as steady as possible despite the strange sensations.

Intense warmth pooled in her lower abdomen. Xiulan directed all her focus there. The heat intensified, the pressure building rapidly.

It felt like she would explode until she finally tried to bear down on the chunk of molten fire that had turned into her dantian.

She struggled to maintain her breathing, but each breath pushed the burning energy outward, searching for release. It seemed like that was something she needed, so she gritted her teeth, focusing on directing the scorching force away from her center.

The sensation resembled trying to push water through clogged tubes, except the water burned, and the tubes existed somewhere between reality and imagination.

Sweat dripped down her temples as she forced the energy further with each exhale. The burning spread, branching out in ways she couldn’t quite map. She pushed harder, willing the power to extend beyond its current boundaries. Her muscles trembled with the effort, but she maintained the steady rhythm of her breathing.

The energy slammed into an invisible wall. Pressure built at the blockage, creating an intense focal point of discomfort just below her right shoulder. Xiulan clenched her jaw, frustration mounting as the energy refused to advance. She increased the force behind her efforts, rage building at the unseen obstacle. Why wouldn’t it work?

The energy churned against the barrier, growing more volatile. Xiulan drew a deep breath and stilled her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, shifting her attention inward to study the sensations coursing through her body. The energy responded to her focus, becoming more distinct, less like formless heat and more like distinct streams flowing through specific paths.

Maybe like circuit boards in a computer? The mental image helped.

She pictured glowing threads running through her body, creating intricate patterns of connection. She stopped forcing the energy and instead guided it along the imagined pathways. The burning sensation eased slightly as she worked with the flow rather than against it.

The pressure built against the blockage until something shifted with a distinct pop.

Energy surged through the newly opened pathway like water breaking through a dam. Relief flooded her body as warmth spread outward from the breakthrough point. The sensation resembled unlocking an achievement in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, but a thousand times more intense and real.

Each deep breath drew more energy through the cleared meridian. Xiulan maintained a steady rhythm despite her trembling muscles. Sweat soaked through her robes as she fought to control the flow, the morning air cool against her burning skin.

The process demanded her complete focus. She guided the energy toward the next blocked point, probing for weakness. The obstruction was solid, unyielding. She pushed harder, remembering how the first breakthrough yielded to persistent pressure. The energy swirled and built against the new barrier.

A second pop reverberated through her body. The rush of power nearly knocked her from her meditation pose. She steadied herself, forcing her breathing to remain even as energy flooded the newly opened pathway. The sensation intensified—like lightning contained within her flesh.

The two cleared meridians pulsed with each breath. Xiulan directed the flow between them, learning to control the strange new force. Her muscles ached from maintaining stillness, but she dared not move. Not yet.

She was only half done.

Xiulan steadied herself as the initial surge of power settled into a manageable flow, looping between the first two meridians.

The overwhelming heat diminished, replaced by an odd tingling sensation that spread through her limbs. Pins and needles prickled beneath her skin, reminiscent of a limb falling asleep, only stronger, more persistent. The discomfort nagged at her concentration.

Focus. This means it’s working.

The tingling intensified as she pushed power toward her extremities. Each successful connection to the smaller pools sparked a small burst of warmth, strengthening her previously dormant channels.

A meridian in her left arm opened with a subtle pop. The sensation repeated in her right arm moments later. Warmth spread down her legs as additional pathways cleared, each breakthrough adding to the building pressure in her core.

Heat bloomed across her chest, bringing an uncomfortable itch that demanded attention. Xiulan maintained her meditation pose despite the urge to scratch. The sensation spread outward from her sternum.

No turning back now.

A sticky film formed on her skin as perspiration beaded up and rolled down her temples. The liquid felt thicker than normal sweat, carrying an acrid smell that made her nose wrinkle. But as the foul-smelling substance seeped from her pores, a curious lightness spread through her body. Each breath came easier, cleaner somehow, as if clearing years of accumulated dust from her lungs.

There were still more meridians to clear, though. She could feel that clearly where pools of energy didn’t flow correctly. She focused on them and not on the black sweat.

A blockage in her left leg yielded first. The breakthrough sent tingles racing down to her toes. Her right leg followed, opening with a sharp crack that made her muscles twitch.

Another obstruction near her spine refused to budge. Xiulan gathered more energy, forcing it against the stubborn point. The pressure built until her teeth ached. Still nothing. She doubled down, channeling everything she could muster into breaking through.

The resistance held firm. Frustration mounted as she hit the same wall repeatedly.

Think. There must be a way.

Her shoulders trembled. Deep breaths helped steady her racing thoughts, the rhythm of inhale and exhale creating a pattern like waves washing against a shore. Energy responded to the natural cycle, flowing more smoothly with each controlled breath.

Xiulan matched her power to the rhythm. Push with the exhale, gather with the inhale. The method felt right somehow, more controlled than brute force. The blockage in her spine opened all at once, sending a rush of energy upward to her head, only to slam into an even tighter block at the base of her skull.

The energy rebounded dramatically, and then—

The breakthrough hit without warning.

Pure power exploded through the opening as it suddenly had a complete loop to flow through. Instead of pooling, it ran like a river. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids as she fought to contain the surge. Each breath came in desperate gasps while she struggled to regulate the overwhelming force.

The chaotic energy shifted—transformed into something crystalline and pure. The struggle against resistance melted away, replaced by smooth, controlled flows that responded to her slightest intention.

Xiulan directed the purified energy inward, following an instinctive pull toward her core. The power spiraled down into her dantian like water finding its natural level. Heat pooled there, steady and controlled rather than the earlier volcanic surge.

Instinct prodded at her consciousness: she was filthy.

On the inside.

Xiulan spread the energy outward in a wave, sweeping through her system like an internal cleansing tide. More of the thick, acrid sweat beaded on her skin, this time in large, thick sheets. The foul substance was made up of the waste her body couldn’t rid itself of, the toxins from the medicine pills she had taken… all of it had built up over the years.

A second wave pushed out more impurities, leaving her tissues cleaner and more receptive to her will.

She turned it into another cycle.

More and more filth flushed out of her, more than seemed possible. Would she shrivel up into a dehydrated husk?

Keep breathing. This has to pass eventually.

The sensation grew until her skin crawled with revulsion. Xiulan maintained her meditation pose despite the overwhelming urge to claw at her arms and face.

The putrid smell hit her nose next: a mix of rancid meat and chemical waste that made her stomach turn. The substance rolled down, collecting in dark pools on the stone beneath her. Xiulan clenched her jaw against the urge to gag.

Deep breaths seemed to speed up the process. She drew air into her lungs with deliberate force, pushing it out in sharp exhales. More of the black substance flowed with each breath cycle. The acrid stench grew stronger as pools of the toxin spread around her.

Her body grew lighter. A strange clarity sharpened her senses—sounds grew crisper, scents more distinct. Even the morning light seemed brighter through her closed eyelids. The changes felt alien, yet somehow right.

The force inside her flowed smooth and cool now, like fresh spring water.

Strength flooded her limbs. The exhaustion from the initial breakthrough melted away. Cherry blossom scents drifted stronger on the morning breeze.

Xiulan directed her attention inward, probing the energy pathways with careful focus. Smaller channels branched off from the main meridians—tiny tributaries she’d missed before. A subtle blockage restricted flow through one near her shoulder. She gathered power and pressed against it.

The minor obstruction yielded with a soft pop. Energy rushed through the newly opened pathway, spreading warmth through previously dormant tissue. Xiulan traced more of the smaller channels, methodically breaking through each resistance point. Every breakthrough strengthened the overall flow, like clearing debris from a running stream.

Black fluid continued seeping from her pores, but thinner now, more watery than tar. The acrid smell faded as the previously expelled filth thickened into a tar.

The transformation settled into her bones. Her body felt lighter yet more solid—like steel replacing iron. Raw physical power thrummed through her tissues.

This was only the first step on a long path, but Xiulan recognized the milestone for what it represented. She had crossed the threshold into true cultivation.

Thanks, ridiculous gold pill.

Xiulan pushed against the ground, rising on shaky legs. Her ruined silk robes, saturated with viscous black gunk, clung to her skin.

I should have stripped first. The thought came too late as she peeled off the destroyed garments. The fabric squelched, releasing fresh waves of putrid odor. Dark stains had seeped deep into the fibers, permanently marking them.

They’d need to burn it or something.

The morning air prickled against her bare skin. She snatched a clean cloth from nearby and scraped at the residue coating her arms and torso.

The black substance smeared rather than wiped away, reminding her of the rotten flesh-coated scarecrow that had appeared in the main hall. She scrubbed harder, desperate to remove every trace.

“Miss Lin!” A servant’s startled cry echoed from the residence.

Xiulan ignored the outburst and turned to sprint through the residence to the bathhouse, her feet leaving dark prints on the path. The need to cleanse the filth from her skin overwhelmed any concern for modesty.

Purifying Gale

In the courts of power, servants are like shadows—always present, always watching. The wise ruler remembers that walls have ears, and those ears belong to someone.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Hot water enveloped Xiulan as she sank beneath the surface for the third time. The servants’ frantic footsteps echoed against the stone walls, amplified by her heightened senses. Each splash of fresh water thundered like a waterfall; the harsh scrape of buckets against stone made her wince.

“More hot water! Quickly!” A servant’s shout pierced through the chaos.

Heavy boots approached from outside. “Miss Lin, is everything—”

“Out! Out you brute!” The sharp whack of broom bristles against armor accompanied the maid’s shriek. “How dare you endanger Miss Lin’s reputation!”

The guard retreated under the assault of the cleaning implement. Xiulan might have laughed if her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire from oversensitivity. Every brush stroke sent lightning through her nerves.

“Miss Xiulan!” Auntie Lan burst through the doorway. “What happened? Are you—”

“Auntie Lan.” Xiulan tried to focus through the overwhelming sensations. “The back garden needs your personal attention. There’s a mess that must be cleaned immediately.”

Another servant attacked her arm with a stiff brush and thick soap. The lather felt like sandpaper.

“My robes are ruined, but retrieve the emergency healing pills and the gold pill first,” Xiulan continued. “Then burn everything and rinse the ground.

“Instructor Han must secure the courtyard. Only trusted people in or out until I’ve inspected all staff.” The words tumbled out as Xiulan struggled to maintain her composure. Every splash echoed like thunder.

Auntie Lan blinked in confusion.

“Please, Auntie. Go now.” Xiulan managed a gentle smile despite feeling like her skin might crawl off her body.

The elderly maid nodded and hurried away.

“What is this awful substance, Miss Lin?” A young servant held up a blackened cloth.

“Poison.” Xiulan regretted the word as soon as it left her mouth.

Gasps erupted around the bathhouse. The servants redoubled their efforts, scrubbing harder as panic spread through their ranks. More buckets of water appeared as if summoned by magic.

When she was finally scrubbed raw, Xiulan slipped into the black-dyed martial arts robe. It draped perfectly across her shoulders, the gold embroidery blending seamlessly into the dark fabric—perfect for a night operation.

“Miss Lin, please.” A servant girl named Ming held up a vibrant red sash. “An outfit needs contrast. At least this small touch of color would maintain propriety.”

“Very well.” Xiulan accepted the sash with a slight nod. The girl made sense, even if stealth remained the priority.

Two servants stepped forward to style her hair.

“Up, please,” she said. “A simple bun with a single braided ponytail.”

The women’s fingers worked swiftly through her dark strands. Each touch sent sparks of sensation across Xiulan’s scalp, but she forced herself to remain still.

The mirror reflected a familiar yet altered image. The martial outfit hugged her frame perfectly, the red sash providing a striking accent against the darkness. But beneath the surface, power surged through her body like lightning trapped in a bottle. Energy coiled in her core, demanding release.

Xiulan clenched her jaw. The sun had already passed its peak—only hours remained until nightfall. That’s when she would need to move.

She left the bathhouse and strode toward the back garden, where five servants wielded long wooden poles like giant chopsticks. They prodded at the black, tar-covered objects scattered across the ground. One servant snagged a pill from the mess, lifting it carefully.

“Gently now!” Another servant dunked the retrieved pill in a water basin. Her cloth squeaked against the surface as she polished away the residue. Then she brought it to Lan Zhao.

Auntie Lan brightened at Xiulan’s approach and extended her palm. The two emergency healing pills and the Golden Meridian Opening Pill gleamed against her weathered skin.

“Thank heaven we saved these.” Auntie Lan pressed them into Xiulan’s hand. “But what happened here? This black substance that covered you and now mars the garden—”

“I walk the path to immortality now,” Xiulan said as she tucked the pills into her sleeve.

Auntie Lan’s mouth dropped open. “What? How could you possibly—”

Xiulan pointed to where servants dumped bucket after bucket of water onto the sticky black residue. “The evidence spreads before you. I broke through this morning while practicing alchemy.”

Auntie Lan’s weathered face crumpled, the sparkle in her eyes dimming as she processed Xiulan’s words. Each line etched deeper into her features spoke of decades serving the Lin family—and now the prospect of losing one she’d watched grow from infancy.

Xiulan’s chest tightened at the elderly maid’s expression. The Empire’s cultivation laws loomed over them like storm clouds. Even the lowest cultivator faced restrictions on mortal interactions. Those who achieved immortality abandoned their earthly ties completely, ascending beyond the mundane world.

“I know this path leads to difficult choices.” Xiulan kept her voice gentle but firm. “But I am only on the first step. We have time before any separation would be forced.”

Auntie Lan dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

“For now, please gather all household staff in the main courtyard garden.” Xiulan straightened her black robes. “I need to speak with Instructor Han first, then address everyone together.”

“Yes, Miss Xiulan.” Auntie Lan bowed low, her movements stiff with emotion. She turned and walked away, her usual grace weighted.

Xiulan turned and sought her guards.

Instructor Han’s broad-shouldered silhouette moved between the guard posts along the courtyard wall. Xiulan strode across the garden to intercept him.

“Instructor Han.”

He turned and bowed. “Miss Lin.”

“Take me to the equipment storage.”

“Is something amiss?” His weathered face creased with concern.

“I need weapons.”

Han frowned but nodded despite it. He led her across the courtyard to the converted side building. The scent of leather and metal filled the barracks. New beds lined the walls, each with a sturdy chest beside it. At the far end, racks of weapons and gear stood organized in neat rows.

“What do you require?” Han asked.

“A concealed dagger—something that fits in my sleeve. And a short spear.”

“The training spears are—”

“No.” Xiulan cut through his words. “I need real weapons, not practice ones.”

Han’s expression hardened, but he moved to the weapon racks without argument. He selected a spear and presented it for inspection. Xiulan grasped the shaft, setting the butt against the floor. The tip reached her shoulder, its foot-long double-edged blade gleaming in the dim light. A small crescent guard marked the transition between blade and shaft.

“Will you tell me what’s happening?” Han’s quiet question carried genuine concern.

Xiulan studied the spear’s blade while weighing her response. The weapon would serve her needs.

She looked at her head guard. Han deserved to know—there had been so many opportunities for him and the guards to betray her. But she knew it wasn’t him.

“I’ve become a cultivator.” Xiulan met his gaze. “And tonight, I’m rescuing Mei Chen.”

Han blinked twice, mouth ajar.

“I broke through this morning.” Xiulan repeated each word with careful emphasis.

Silence stretched between them. The distant sounds of servants moving through the garden filtered through the walls. Han stood motionless, processing her words.

A full minute passed before he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Lin, even for a cultivator, this presents extreme danger. The breakthrough just occurred—you can’t possibly have adjusted to your enhanced strength. Our combat training barely scratched the surface of proper technique.”

“They’ve held her for an entire day.” Xiulan tested the spear’s balance with a slight twist. “After everything they’ve done, I won’t leave her there past nightfall. She comes home tonight.”

“Haa...” Han rubbed his weathered face. “We have a few hours until sunset. Energy and exhaustion shouldn’t limit you anymore, correct?”

Xiulan nodded firmly. “Training would help, but first, I must handle something else. I’ll return for personal lessons afterward.”

“What task demands attention now?”

“Checking a rat to see what disease it carries.” Xiulan’s fingers tightened around the spear shaft.

Xiulan strode into the main garden where servants clustered in small groups, their whispers echoing against her enhanced hearing like waves crashing on rocks. The spear balanced perfectly across her shoulders, its weight a comforting presence.

“Form a line!” Her command cut through the murmurs. The servants scrambled to comply, arranging themselves in a rough formation.

“Better.” Xiulan paced before them, boots crunching against the gravel path. “When I stop before you, shout ‘Miss Lin’ as loudly as possible.”

Confused glances passed between the servants. Xiulan stopped before the first one—an elderly kitchen worker.

“M-Miss Lin?” The uncertain squeak drew a frown from Xiulan.

“Louder! Like you mean it!”

“Miss Lin!” The next servant’s shout carried more conviction.

The pattern continued down the line, each cry hammering against Xiulan’s heightened senses. She gritted her teeth against the assault of sound but pressed forward. Halfway through, a particular voice stopped her cold.

Xiulan spun toward a young servant girl dressed in plain brown robes. “Again.”

“Miss Lin!” The girl’s voice trembled.

“Your name?”

“Ming Hua, Miss Lin.” Sweat beaded on the girl’s forehead.

“You called my name earlier today.” Xiulan stepped closer. “Near the back garden.”

Ming Hua’s face paled. Her hands twisted in her robes.

“Orders were explicit—no one was to enter the main residence without permission.” Xiulan’s words cut like steel. “Why were you there?”

Ming Hua remained frozen.

“Follow.” Xiulan pointed at Ming Hua. “The rest of you are dismissed.” She turned to stride toward the main building, boots crunching against the gravel path. Ming Hua’s trembling footsteps followed behind, accompanied by Auntie Lan’s steadier tread.

The main hall’s familiar scents of incense and polished wood enveloped them as Xiulan settled into the carved wooden chair, crossing one leg over the other. The black martial robes rustled with the movement.

“Kneel.”

“But miss...” Ming Hua wrung her hands. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You dare speak to Miss Lin with such disrespect?” Auntie Lan stepped forward, radiating disapproval.

Ming Hua dropped to her knees, head bowed. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the latticed windows cast harsh shadows across her face.

“You saw quite a lot earlier today, didn’t you?” Xiulan drummed her fingers against the chair’s armrest.

The servant mumbled something unintelligible, shoulders hunched.

“Let me share something interesting.” Xiulan leaned forward. “I’ve become an immortal cultivator. I can sense truth and lies now.”

Of course, that was a bald-faced lie, but there was no need to tell her that.

Ming Hua’s face drained of color. Her hands trembled against the polished floor.

“Here’s what will happen.” Xiulan softened her tone. “Answer my questions truthfully, and I’ll protect you from whoever ordered you to spy on me. You’re just following orders, after all. Mercy awaits those who cooperate. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

Ming Hua pressed her forehead to the floor. “Please, Miss Lin! I’ll tell you everything!”

Infiltration Gust

In the depths of night, when mortal eyes fail and hearts quaver, true courage manifests not in fearlessness but in acting despite our fears. The wise warrior knows that hesitation breeds defeat, while decisive action—even at great personal cost—often yields victory.
—Sage Master Chen Feng, Voice of the Four Winds

If this is just the first step, what monsters exist at the peak?

Xiulan flexed idly against her spear, slightly bending the steel shaft while watching the sun paint fading orange streaks across the courtyard. Hours of sparring with Instructor Han had barely produced a single bead of sweat.

The massive gulf between mortal and immortal stretched before her like an endless chasm.

In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, each cultivation realm towered above the last—Body Refinement, Qi Gathering, Qi Refinement, Foundation Forming, and Golden Core. The spiritual and deity realms that lay beyond those stages existed in an entirely different dimension of power.

Each step represented not just an improvement but a fundamental transformation.

Xiulan defeated Han in every exchange, and not because he lacked skill.

His combat experience meant nothing against the raw power coursing through her enhanced body. With his guidance and her focus, the spear moved as an extension of her will rather than a weapon.

The darkening sky signaled the time for action. Xiulan gripped her spear and strode toward the courtyard exit. A dozen armed guards blocked her path, faces set with determination. Han stood at their center.

“No.” Xiulan frowned at their presence.

Han dropped into a formal salute. “We stand ready to assist, Miss Lin.”

“And leave my mother unprotected?” Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. “The servants need you here. Mother needs you here.”

“But Miss Lin—”

“Enough. I’ll wield your sentiment within my heart.” Xiulan brushed past the guards and through the moon gate.

The evening streets were dotted with the occasional merchant closing shop or servant rushing home. Their stares followed her black-robed figure and gleaming spear. Xiulan ducked into narrower alleyways, letting shadows mask her presence as she moved toward her target.

Lanterns blazed across the central sector, casting dancing shadows through the main square. Xiulan pressed against a wall, observing the crowd gathered outside the main hall.

Music and laughter spilled from within, accompanied by the clink of wine cups and the aroma of roasted meats. A celebration dinner. Of course.

Rage burned in Xiulan’s chest. While Mei Chen suffered in captivity, her family feasted and made merry.

The contrast twisted like a knife in her gut.

Xiulan drew several measured breaths, forcing her cultivation-enhanced muscles to relax. The festivities provided perfect cover—the servants and guards focused on the main hall meant fewer eyes watching Madam Zhang’s pavilion.

Moonlight silvered the courtyard walls as Xiulan crept along their perimeter. She located a shadowed alcove between two decorative pillars and coiled her legs beneath her.

She jumped, clearing the wall with ease, her enhanced strength carrying her well above the barrier. She landed in a perfect crouch atop the narrow stone surface, balanced as precisely as a cat.

Xiulan scanned the empty courtyard below. Paper lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, casting shifting patterns across manicured gardens and ornamental rocks.

Only the main gate was manned. No guards patrolled the grounds, likely attending the celebration.

A small storage building offered the perfect cover. She dropped silently behind it, pressing close to its wooden walls.

Shadows stretched across the courtyard as Xiulan slinked against the cold stone wall, each step measured, deliberate, soundless.

A splash echoed from nearby—soft but distinct in the evening silence. She froze, muscles tensed.

Moonlight glinted off a small wooden shed ahead. More splashing sounds drifted through its thin walls, accompanied by the rustle of fabric. Xiulan glided around the structure’s perimeter, keeping to the deepest shadows.

A single servant worked inside, wringing wet clothes into a wooden basin. The knife slid silently from Xiulan’s sleeve. Three swift steps brought her behind the woman.

One hand clamped over the servant’s mouth while the other pressed cold steel against her throat.

“Remain silent and answer my questions truthfully, and you’ll walk away unharmed.” Xiulan breathed the words directly into the servant’s ear.

The woman trembled but managed a slight nod.

“I’ll remove my hand,” Xiulan continued. “One scream and this blade finds a new home. Understood?”

Another trembling nod. Xiulan slowly withdrew her palm.

“Where are they keeping the captured servant girl?”

“There’s a—a dungeon beneath the main residence.” The servant’s whisper quavered. “But guards watch the entrance day and night.”

Xiulan shifted her grip, wrapping her arm around the woman’s throat in a precise hold. The servant’s eyes widened in panic, but before she could struggle, the pressure on her carotid arteries took effect. Her body went limp within seconds.

Xiulan eased the unconscious form to the ground, arranging her limbs to appear as if she’d simply fallen asleep at her work. The woman would wake with nothing worse than a headache. Hopefully.

Slipping into the shadow of ornamental trees, she crept toward the main residence. Two servants passed nearby, discussing the evening’s festivities. She held perfectly still until their voices faded.

An elevated wooden platform stretched above—a perfect entry point. Her cultivation-enhanced muscles propelled her upward in a silent leap, the worn planks barely creaking under her careful steps.

Lantern light spilled through paper screens, sending shadows flickering across the halls. Footsteps echoed from multiple directions. Xiulan slipped between rooms, tracking the sound patterns. The basement entrance had to connect to the main floor somewhere, but where?

More footsteps approached from both ends of the corridor. Xiulan’s pulse quickened. No escape route presented itself. She’d need to—

A door slid open beside her.

“Sister, come in!” Zhang Wei’s urgent whisper cut through her rising panic.

Xiulan dove through the opening. Zhang Wei snapped the door shut just as two sets of footsteps converged outside. She pressed into a darkened corner, barely daring to breathe.

“Young Master, are you alright?” A guard’s voice carried through the thin screen.

“Just studying!” Zhang Wei’s cheerful reply contained no hint of deception. “Father insisted.”

The footsteps retreated. Xiulan’s shoulders relaxed as silence returned.

Zhang Wei spun toward her, eyes wide as saucers. “You look like a shadow assassin!”

Xiulan propped her spear against the wall and knelt beside Zhang Wei. She ruffled his messy hair with gentle affection. “I’m on an important mission tonight, Little Brother.”

“Mother confined me to my room as punishment.” Zhang Wei slumped against the wall before perking up. “But I can still help! What do you need?”

“Have you seen anyone taken to the dungeon recently?” Xiulan kept her voice steady despite the urgency pulsing through her veins.

Zhang Wei’s eyes stretched wide in the dim light. “I saw them take Mei Chen down there!” His shoulders drooped. “She hasn’t come back out since.”

A tense breath escaped Xiulan’s lips. “That’s why I’m here—to bring her home.”

Light blazed in Zhang Wei’s eyes as he bounced on his toes. The floorboards creaked beneath his excited movements.

“Where’s the entrance to the dungeon?” Xiulan steadied him with a gentle hand.

“Behind the kitchen storehouse! There’s a hidden door under the rice barrels.” Zhang Wei traced the path in the air. “Turn right at the bottom of the stairs, then left at the first torch bracket.”

Xiulan absorbed each detail with sharp focus before rising to retrieve her spear. The weapon’s weight settled into her palm.

“What else can I do to help?” Zhang Wei clenched his small fists with determination.

“Stay here and keep quiet.” Xiulan gripped his shoulder. “If you hear any commotion, shout for help. Draw as many people to you as possible and demand they protect you.”

Zhang Wei’s jaw set with fierce resolve. “I’ll do my best, Sister!”

Xiulan slipped through the darkened corridors, following Zhang Wei’s directions. Two guards blocked the entrance to the storage area, their postures relaxed as they chatted in low voices.

Her qi surged through her muscles. Xiulan launched forward, striking precise points on their necks. She caught their falling bodies to muffle any sound, lowering them gently.

No breath stirred their chests. No pulse thrummed beneath her fingers.

Bile rose in her throat. The cultivation enhancement had made her strikes lethal instead of incapacitating. Blood roared in her ears as her hands trembled.

Mei Chen needs me. The thought steadied her racing pulse. She forced herself to breathe, to focus on the mission ahead.

The heavy rice barrels scraped against the floor as she shifted them aside, the wooden trapdoor emerging from the dark beneath. Stale air wafted up as she eased it open, carrying the unmistakable stench of decay and human waste.

Blackness swallowed the narrow stone staircase. A single torch flickered at the bottom, casting writhing shadows across damp walls. Each step downward intensified the putrid smell.

Iron bars lined the corridor. The first cell gaped empty, its door hanging askew. Rusted chains dangled from the ceiling like skeletal fingers.

The second cell contained only moldering straw. The third—

Xiulan stumbled to a halt. Official Bo Qin’s mutilated corpse hung suspended from chains, skin peeled away in methodical strips. A crimson pool spread beneath him, trickling toward a central drain. His severed fingers lay arranged on a nearby table amid gleaming tools.

Acid burned the back of her throat. Xiulan spun away, jogging past more empty cells. At the corridor’s end, in the last cell, a small figure huddled in the corner.

“Mei Chen!” Xiulan gripped the cell bars. The metal refused to yield despite her enhanced strength. Frustration and rage boiled inside her.

The bars snapped with a sharp crack at the floor and ceiling.

Standard Antagonist Confrontation

In the face of true betrayal, even the most enlightened soul may find peace only through violence. Yet we must remember that each drop of blood shed leaves a stain not just on our blades but on our very essence. The path to immortality demands sacrifice, but choose carefully what you offer upon its altar.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside Mei Chen’s crumpled form. Relief flooded through her as she counted fingers, toes, limbs—all intact. The momentary comfort evaporated when she pulled Mei Chen into her lap.

Blood saturated the once-pristine servant’s robes, now reduced to filthy tatters. Mei Chen’s face bore the worst: swollen beyond recognition with crusted blood sealing her eyes shut. Raw, torn flesh marked systematic torture across her features.

“Mei Chen?” Xiulan pressed trembling fingers against Mei Chen’s neck. The pulse flickered weakly beneath her touch, each beat separated by terrifying pauses. “Please wake up. Please.”

Ice gripped Xiulan’s spine. They’d meant for Mei Chen to die here, abandoned in this putrid cell. The thought sent rage coursing through her core.

Xiulan fumbled through her robes, fingers closing around Jin Wei’s emergency pills. The small item nearly slipped from her blood-slicked hands.

“Mei Chen, you need to take this.” Xiulan tapped Mei Chen’s shoulder. “Please wake up enough to swallow.”

A pained groan escaped Mei Chen’s split lips—the only response to increasingly desperate attempts to rouse her.

Xiulan lifted the pill to Mei Chen’s mouth, sliding it beneath her tongue. It wasn’t meant to work that way, but maybe it could help somehow…

Still, she needed something else. Xiulan set Mei Chen down gently and exited, bounding up stone steps two at a time. A clean water urn presented itself. She snatched it, along with a wooden bowl.

Back in the cell, Mei Chen remained motionless on the filthy floor. The unchanged pill still sat uselessly under her tongue. Xiulan pulled the second emergency pill from her robe. Drawing upon her qi, she channeled the energy into her palm and squeezed with all her might. The fragments sparkled as they fell into the wooden bowl.

“Stupid,” Xiulan muttered while removing the intact pill from Mei Chen’s mouth. Her servants had already proven how resilient the pills were—they’d survived being covered in gunk and smacked around with sticks without a scratch.

Of course it wouldn’t dissolve naturally in the mouth.

She cradled Mei Chen against her chest, positioning her head with a slight tilt. Xiulan dipped her finger into the medicine-infused water and carefully dripped the solution between Mei Chen’s cracked lips.

Drop by drop, she fed the healing mixture to her friend. Each precious bead carried hope for recovery.

Xiulan’s hands shook as she dripped more medicine between Mei Chen’s lips.

Each drop rolled down without response.

The shallow rise and fall of Mei Chen’s chest grew weaker. The erratic pulse beneath Xiulan’s fingertips skipped and faltered.

A wet gurgle broke the dungeon’s silence. Mei Chen’s body shifted against the stone floor. Xiulan’s breath caught.

“Mei Chen? Mei Chen!”

Trembling fingers clutched at Xiulan’s black robes. The fabric bunched in Mei Chen’s weak grip.

“Can you understand me?” Xiulan leaned closer, searching the battered face for signs of consciousness.

The slightest nod answered, barely perceptible in the dim light.

“Listen carefully. You need to swallow this healing pill.” Xiulan pulled out the remaining emergency medicine pill. “Here, open your mouth.” She pressed the pill past Mei Chen’s split lips and lifted the wooden bowl. “Small sips. Please.”

Mei Chen choked violently on the water. Her body convulsed, desperate wheezes echoing off stone walls. Xiulan’s stomach lurched as Mei Chen struggled for air.

The coughing subsided, but no healing glow spread through Mei Chen’s body. No color returned to her grey-tinged skin. Instead, her breathing grew more labored, each inhale a painful rasp.

“Please.” Xiulan clutched Mei Chen’s hand. “Please get better. Don’t leave me here alone.” The words tumbled out in desperate whispers. “I need you. Please.”

The rasping breaths stopped.

Xiulan counted the seconds of silence. One. Three. Ten.

Too many.

“No!” She pinched Mei Chen’s nose closed, sealed their mouths together, and exhaled hard.

Mei Chen’s chest rose with the forced breath. She convulsed, coughing weakly, then drew a shallow breath on her own.

But a few moments later, Mei Chen’s chest stilled again. The silence screamed louder than any torture could.

Xiulan pressed their mouths together again, forcing air into unresponsive lungs. One breath. Two breaths. Three.

A weak cough rewarded her efforts. Mei Chen drew shallow, rattling breaths, each one a desperate fight against inevitability.

Xiulan fumbled through her robes, fingers closing around the Golden Meridian Opening Pill. The sphere gleamed dully in the dim light, too large for Mei Chen to swallow in her current state. But Xiulan remembered the sensation: how it had dissolved almost immediately, spreading warmth through her body.

Tears blurred her vision as she tilted Mei Chen’s head back. The pill slid past broken lips, and Xiulan guided it down as far as she could. Massaging the other girl’s throat, she willed the medicine to work.

Nothing changed. The shallow breaths stopped.

Xiulan’s fingers probed Mei Chen’s mouth, searching for the pill—but it had vanished. She sealed their lips together once more, desperately trying to force life back into her friend’s body. One breath. Two breaths. Three.

No response.

Xiulan sagged against the cold stone wall. The reality crashed over her like arctic water. Mei Chen lay dead in her arms—the bright, loyal girl who had stood by her side through everything… gone.

The tears dried on Xiulan’s face as rage crystallized in her chest. They hadn’t just killed a servant. They’d murdered her closest friend.

Xiulan gathered Mei Chen’s broken body into her arms. The girl weighed almost nothing as Xiulan stood, turning toward the dungeon stairs.

She strode through the dim corridors. Blood dripped from Mei Chen’s robes, marking their path across polished wooden floors.

A guard rounded the corner, spear leveled. “Halt! Identify yourself!”

Xiulan channeled qi into her leg. The wooden floor splintered beneath her boot heel, sending a wave of deadly fragments forward. The guard’s eyes widened a moment before hundreds of wooden shards impaled him. His body flew back, pinned to the far wall like a grotesque decoration.

A familiar scream pierced the night air from across the compound. “Help! Assassin! Save me!”

“Protect Young Master Lin!” Guards shouted from every direction.

Tears welled in Xiulan’s eyes at Zhang Wei’s perfect distraction. The sound of armored footsteps thundered through adjacent corridors as guards rushed toward his voice. Several ran past without sparing her a glance, their attention fixed on reaching their young master.

Xiulan pressed forward, each step leaving bloody footprints on the previously immaculate floors. The main gate loomed. She pushed through, emerging into the cool night air. Lantern light spilled across the square from her father’s ongoing banquet.

The crowd gathered outside the hall only noticed her approach when she was on top of them. Gasps rippled through the gathered servants. They scrambled backward, creating a path toward the stairs. Golden light from overhead lanterns cast dancing shadows across Mei Chen’s battered face.

The warm glow of the banquet hall beckoned. Xiulan ascended, her enhanced muscles making the burden of her precious cargo feel weightless.

She stepped into the banquet hall. Soldiers filled half the seats, their armor gleaming beneath paper lanterns.

The celebrations died as she advanced. Whispers faded to silence. The scent of spilled wine and rich food mixed with the metallic tang of blood dripping from Mei Chen’s lifeless form.

Noble faces turned ashen. Several guests stumbled back from their seats. Xiulan’s gaze fixed on the high table where her family sat in resplendent silks. Lord Lin’s stern disapproval. Madam Zhang’s smug satisfaction. Lin Jin’s barely concealed hatred. Qian and Fei’s matching sneers. Only Suyin showed genuine horror at the sight before them.

Xiulan shoved the nearest guests aside. Their chairs clattered across the polished floor. Dishes crashed as she swept a table clear with one arm, laying Mei Chen’s broken body across the lacquered surface. Blood pooled beneath her, staining elaborate carvings of phoenixes and dragons.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Lin’s shout echoed through the hall.

“You tortured and murdered her!” The words tore from Xiulan’s throat.

Madam Zhang’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “See how belligerent she has become? This is because you coddle her and that woman.”

Lord Lin shot to his feet, jabbing a finger at Xiulan. “You are no longer the second daughter—you are a concubine’s brat! You’ve shamed this family!”

Ice crystallized in Xiulan’s chest. “It would have been fine if you had just let things be.” Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper that somehow still carried across the entire hall. “But you killed her!”

“You dare?” Lord Lin’s face purpled with rage.

“I... dare?” The words hissed through Xiulan’s clenched teeth. Her hand flexed, missing the familiar weight of her spear.

A guard stood frozen nearby, weapon loose in his grip. Xiulan crossed the distance in a single qi-enhanced step. The spear tore free as she backhanded him. His body crumpled.

Xiulan spun toward the high table, weapon raised. The spear left her hand like lightning.

Wood splintered. Steel flashed. Sister Qian’s head separated from her shoulders in a spray of crimson. Her body slumped forward as arterial blood painted elaborate robes and delicate dishes. The headless corpse twitched, heart still pumping frantically.

Screams erupted through the hall. Guests scrambled over each other in panic.

“GUARDS! KILL HER!” Lord Lin’s command thundered above the chaos.

Xiulan kicked the ornate banquet table. It spun through the air, scattering dishes and wine as it crashed into the approaching guards. Their armored bodies tumbled like scattered pins. She snatched a fallen spear from the chaos, testing its familiar weight.

The remaining guards moved with practiced efficiency—Lord Lin spared no expense on their equipment or training. Their polished armor gleamed beneath the paper lanterns as they formed a coordinated attack pattern.

Each face showed grim determination, having witnessed her earlier display of lethal force. They surged forward as one unit.

Instructor Han’s training took over. Xiulan’s enhanced muscles responded with fluid grace. Her heart maintained a steady rhythm as she regulated her breathing. The world slowed to a crystalline focus.

Steel flashed through the air. Xiulan weaved between thrusting spears like water flowing around stones. The shaft of her weapon bent with a resounding crack as it connected with a guard’s temple. His unconscious form catapulted into two others, sending them sprawling.

Three more guards lunged forward. Xiulan side-stepped their coordinated attack. Her boot swept the lead attacker’s leg, toppling him forward. In the same motion, her spear pierced through the second and third guards’ breastplates. Hot blood sprayed across her black robes.

The spear stuck fast in cooling flesh. Xiulan released it, grabbing another guard’s weapon mid-thrust. She spun, using his own momentum to launch him through the air. He crashed into a pillar with a sickening crunch.

Her gaze locked onto the high table. Madam Zhang’s smug expression faltered as understanding dawned: these guards couldn’t stop what was coming. Raw fear replaced her stepmother’s usual contempt.

Xiulan sprinted forward. Guards moved to intercept, weapons raised. She leaped, muscles coiling with qi-enhanced power. Her fingers caught the overhead beam. She flexed, kicked off the wooden support, and soared through the air.

Her boots slammed into the high table. Expensive wood splintered beneath the impact, splitting the elaborate furniture in two. Dishes shattered. Wine splashed across silk robes.

Madam Zhang grabbed Fei’s arm with desperate strength. Both women turned to flee.

Xiulan surged forward. Her spear hummed through the air, finding its mark between Sister Fei’s shoulder blades with surgical precision. Steel parted flesh and bone, severing her spine.

Fei dropped like a puppet with cut strings, dragging Madam Zhang down. Zhang tugged at her daughter’s limp form.

“Get up! Keep moving!” Zhang’s shrill commands echoed through the hall.

Xiulan advanced. Blood dripped from her spear’s tip, each crimson drop marking her approach. Madam Zhang pulled Fei’s motionless body into an embrace, tears streaming down her painted face as she stared up at Xiulan.

“Feels terrible, doesn’t it?” Xiulan’s words cut like ice.

The spear whistled through the air toward Zhang’s throat. Steel rang against steel as a sword intercepted the strike. Another slash forced Xiulan to redirect her weapon.

Brother Lin Jin pressed forward, his blade weaving an intricate dance of death. Each strike flowed with practiced precision, testing her defenses from multiple angles. Xiulan backpedaled, recognizing the gulf between his mastery and her basic training.

Her enhanced muscles strained to match his speed. While she relied on raw power and reflexes, Jin’s attacks demonstrated years of refined technique. His sword found gaps in her defense she hadn’t known existed.

But he still couldn’t touch her.

He committed to an overhead strike, putting his full weight behind the blow. Xiulan recognized the opening and countered with everything she had. Their weapons met with devastating force. Jin’s sword spiraled away into the darkness.

“No!” Lord Lin’s desperate shout pierced the air.

Xiulan’s concealed dagger slid into her palm. She drove the blade up under Jin’s chin before tossing his body aside like discarded waste.

A metallic glint caught her eye. Madam Zhang’s arm swept outward. Pain erupted across Xiulan’s chest and arm as hidden needles found their mark.

She plucked the needles from her flesh with methodical precision, letting each one clatter against the wooden floor. Blood trickled from the tiny wounds.

“At least we’ll all die here together!” Madam Zhang spat the words through clenched teeth.

A cold smile spread across Xiulan’s face as she leaned close enough to smell the expensive perfume on Zhang’s neck.

“That poison can’t touch me anymore. I’ve taken the first step on the path to immortality.”

Madam Zhang’s eyes widened in recognition. The implication hit home a moment before Xiulan’s blade opened her throat. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as Zhang collapsed.

A choked sob drew Xiulan’s attention. Suyin huddled in the corner, shoulders shaking as she pressed herself against the wall. Her elaborate robes spread around her like fallen petals.

Xiulan’s spear tip carved a meandering line through polished floorboards as she approached. She squatted before her sister, studying the tear-streaked face she’d once trusted.

“Why did you have to be like them, Sister Suyin?” The words dripped with acid. “Ming Hua fell over herself telling everything. Did you know your little game with the scroll would get Mei Chen arrested? Killed?”

The sharp scent of urine filled the air as Suyin dissolved into fresh sobs.

Xiulan stood, adjusting her grip on the spear. The weapon pierced through silk and flesh with equal ease, pinning Suyin to the wall like a butterfly in a collection. Her sister’s eyes went wide, then vacant.

A shuffle of armored boots drew her attention. Lord Lin stood rigid behind the ruins of the high table, surrounded by a protective ring of guards. Their weapons gleamed in the lantern light as they advanced.

Xiulan gripped the edge of a nearby table. The polished wood creaked under her fingers before she launched it through the air. Guards scattered like leaves, their formation breaking as they dove to avoid the projectile. Several tangled in their own spears, armor clanking against the floor.

She turned to Suyin’s corpse, yanking the blood-slicked spear from flesh and wood. The weapon came free with a wet sound that echoed through the hall.

The remaining guards regrouped, falling into a practiced spear formation as they advanced in lockstep. Xiulan dropped into a low stance, angling her spear parallel to the ground. The guards thrust as one—just as she’d anticipated.

Her weapon caught their spears from below. She twisted, channeling qi through her arms. The guards’ weapons flew upward, leaving them exposed. Xiulan struck like lightning. The spear blurred as she pierced throats and joints, finding gaps between armor plates. Each thrust met flesh with surgical precision.

Armored bodies thudded against the wooden dais.

A bead of sweat rolled down Xiulan’s temple. The needle wounds across her chest burned with increasing intensity. The poison was actually doing something, even if it wasn’t much.

Lord Lin took a step back, his elaborate robes rustling against the floor. Fear replaced his usual stern countenance.

Xiulan raised her chin, meeting his gaze. Blood dripped from her spear onto polished wood as she planted it firmly.

“I guess I dare, Father.”

“How could you murder your family?” Lord Lin’s words echoed through the blood-soaked hall.

Xiulan barked out a harsh laugh. “Family? The same family that wanted me dead? Tried to poison me? The same family that murdered my maid?” Her spear traced idle patterns in the pooling blood. “Seems fair to me.”

Lord Lin’s teeth ground audibly. He thrust a finger toward the carnage. “That woman was a commoner! You slaughter your own blood over a servant?”

“That commoner meant more to me than all your pathetic lives combined.” Xiulan spat blood onto the polished floor. “Maybe you should have considered that before handing her to a sadist for torture and murder.”

Steel sang through the air as Lord Lin drew his sword. The blade caught lantern light, reflecting crimson from the bloodstained floors. He lunged forward with devastating speed.

Xiulan thrust her spear outward, maintaining critical distance. The difference between Jin’s sword work and her father’s mastery struck her immediately. Each of his attacks flowed with lethal precision, forcing her into a desperate retreat.

Raw power emanated from Lord Lin’s form as he pressed forward. His sword became a silver arc of death. Xiulan deflected a thrust aimed at her throat, then barely parried a slash that would have opened her belly. She countered with a desperate thrust that drove him back half a step.

The railing beckoned behind her. Xiulan leaped onto the narrow wooden beam, twisting over Lord Lin’s horizontal slash. She somersaulted through the air, striking at his exposed back—but his blade was already there, steel ringing against steel.

Their weapons clashed in a deadly dance. An invisible force pulsed through Lord Lin’s movements, lending supernatural speed and power to each strike. His sword technique spoke of decades of refinement.

Xiulan caught Lord Lin’s next thrust. Her enhanced muscles tensed as she twisted the spear shaft. Steel flashed. Blood sprayed across polished floors as his severed hand dropped with a wet thud, still clutching the ornate sword.

The difference crystallized at that moment. He fought with mortal strength against her cultivator’s might; decades of martial mastery meant nothing against the fundamental gap between their existences.

Even as the youngest sapling on the mountain, she towered above the earthbound trees below.

Lord Lin snatched a concealed knife from his robes with his remaining hand. Xiulan’s boot connected with his wrist. The blade clattered across bloodstained wood. She planted her foot against his chest and shoved. His body crashed to the floor.

He pushed up to his knees, blood pooling beneath his maimed arm.

She pressed her boot against Lord Lin’s leg. The crunch of bone beneath her heel brought a primal shriek from his throat.

“Rejoice, Father.” Xiulan twisted her foot. Another crack punctuated his scream. “Your daughter walks the path to immortality now. The Lin family name will echo through the ages.”

Lord Lin writhed beneath her boot. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought against the pain.

“And Zhang Wei—” A genuine smile touched Xiulan’s lips. “That precious boy somehow grew up pure despite the rot surrounding him. He’ll make an excellent young master and heir with my help.”

Lord Lin snarled. His maimed arm swept upward in a desperate arc. Hot blood splashed across Xiulan’s face, metallic droplets stinging her eyes.

“Ungrateful wretch! After everything this family gave you—”

“It’s a two-way street, Dad.”

The spear plunged down. Steel parted flesh and bone as the blade drove through his mouth and out the back of his neck. His eyes widened, then dimmed as life drained away.

The thundering in Xiulan’s ears settled to silence. She wiped her face with her sleeve, but there was so much blood that all it did was smear and prevent the drips from entering her eyes.

The cold emptiness that had filled her since finding Mei Chen’s broken body remained unchanged.

Sorrow crashed over her like a wave. All the death, all the blood—none of it would bring Mei Chen back. Rage burned out, leaving only ashes and grief.

Xiulan turned toward the entrance. Bodies littered the hall like fallen leaves. The guards who had chosen not to flee lay cooling in expanding pools of crimson.

Her boots left bloody footprints across polished wood as she trudged toward the entrance.

The lacquered table where she’d placed Mei Chen’s body came into view.

Xiulan’s steps faltered.

Dark liquid roiled off her body and cascaded off the wood’s edge, pooling on the floor below.

“Mei Chen?” The name escaped as barely a whisper.

Muted Airs

The cold that accompanies spiritual awakening is not the chill of death but the frost of transformation. As winter precedes spring, so too must the body's warmth yield to the spirit's ice before new growth can begin.
—Sage Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

Incense smoke curled through the morning air, mingling with the earthy scent of rain-soaked earth. Xiulan’s white silk robes whispered against stone as she led a procession toward the Lin family’s ancestor hall. Each step echoed against cobblestones worn smooth by generations of mourners.

Monks flanked the path, their yellow and crimson robes stark against the misty gray backdrop. Bronze bells chimed softly as they waved smoking joss sticks in practiced motions. The sweet, heavy scent of sandalwood drifted past.

Behind Xiulan, the steady thud of ceremonial drums marked time with funeral dirges. Mourners dressed in coarse hemp shuffled forward, heads bowed in respect or fear—perhaps both. Their quiet sobs punctuated the monks’ rhythmic chanting.

Each careful step brought her closer to the carved dragons guarded by ancient tablets. The weight of tradition pressed down like the heavy clouds overhead.

Smoke stung Xiulan’s eyes as she passed another group of monks. Their low voices rose and fell in sutras, prayers for the dead echoing off stone walls. The bitter scent of medicinal herbs mixed with the incense—purification rituals for the departed souls.

Zhao Lian sat straight-backed near the altar in pristine white, accepting condolences from a steady stream of visitors with practiced grace. Her perfect composure befitted her new status as regent for Zhang Wei. Each bow and murmured response followed the exact dictates of propriety—no more, no less.

The wooden floorboards creaked under Xiulan’s feet as she stepped into the hall. A sudden gust of wind swept through the space, extinguishing every candle in rapid succession.

The temperature plummeted. An invisible weight pressed against her chest, making each breath shallow and sharp.

Two monks shot accusatory glares at her from beside the altar. They waved their ceremonial sticks in frantic patterns while chanting.

She ignored the suspicious stares that trained upon her. But Zhang Wei’s tear-stained face struck deeper than any prayer. His red-rimmed eyes fixed on her along with every other gaze in the hall: a collective weight of judgment and fear.

Xiulan plucked an incense stick from the bronze holder. The familiar motions carried her through lighting it and performing the ritual bow.

“May the ancestors guide and protect our family through this time of transition.” The formal words fell from her lips without emotion.

She spun on her heel and strode from the suffocating hall, leaving the whispers and stares behind.

Xiulan quickened her pace as soon as she was outside, only for a procession of officials to block the main path. Their silk robes rustled against the cobblestones while servants scurried around them like mice. She cut through a side garden instead, crushing dew-laden grass beneath her feet.

The morning air carried whispers that stung worse than the incense smoke.

Despite her mother’s careful misdirection about a vengeful cultivator’s attack, truth proved more enticing to wagging tongues. The real story spread like wildfire: how the rebellious Lin daughter had cleared her path to power with ruthless efficiency.

Xiulan lifted her chin as she crossed the central courtyard.

Let them whisper. Let them stare.

Servants scattered before her, averting their eyes. A group of wives huddled near the moon gate pressed their fans to their lips, but their judgment radiated clearly. The “proper” meek young lady they’d known existed only in memory now.

The thought brought a bitter smile to her lips. She’d never wanted to be their kind of lady anyway.

The doors to her new pavilion—Madam Zhang’s former residence—stood open. Fresh paint gleamed on the carved panels where servants had spent days scrubbing away old stains.

Inside, stacks of ledgers and letters provided ample evidence of her family’s corruption. The papers formed a shield against the officials who’d descended like vultures on the estate.

Xiulan bit her lip. Her mother bore the heaviest burden, fielding endless questions while she remained largely untouched. The thought soured in her stomach as she approached the gate guard.

They bowed low. “Miss Lin.”

“Any disturbances?” Xiulan asked.

“All quiet, miss.” The guard straightened. “No problems to report.”

Xiulan stepped into the courtyard, her feet carrying her past blooming spring floors and carefully tended rock gardens.

New servants bowed deeply as she passed, their unfamiliar faces a constant reminder of how much had changed. The expansion from her modest three-building courtyard to the sprawling residence had required dozens of additional staff.

She hadn’t dared keep any of the old.

The Main Pavilion rose before her, its sweeping eaves casting long shadows across the stone path. While the space ranked second only to the Lord’s Pavilion and Great Hall in size, the grandeur felt hollow. Each polished wooden beam and ornate carving served as a reminder of what she’d done to acquire it.

Taking the carved stairs two at a time, Xiulan turned down a hallway leading to the guest quarters. Lan Zhao stood guard at the door, offering a respectful bow as Xiulan approached.

“Has there been any change?” Xiulan kept her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her chest.

“No, miss.” Lan Zhao shook her head. “But the room grows colder, still. Several maids spoke of evil spirits lurking within. I’ve restricted access to only our most trusted.”

“Thank you for your diligence.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “I’ll be taking tea with Doctor Jin Wei shortly. Please arrange something suitable.”

“At once, miss.” Lan Zhao bowed again before hurrying off to prepare the tea service.

The paper door slid open with a soft whisper, and a wave of cold air brushed against Xiulan’s skin as she stepped into the dim room. The temperature dropped several degrees compared to the hallway—an unnatural chill.

In the center of the room, Mei Chen lay motionless on a simple wooden bed, her hands rested peacefully on her chest, fingers interlaced as if in prayer. The white silk bedding emphasized her pallid complexion.

Xiulan crossed the polished wooden floor and sank onto the cushion beside the bed. The familiar scent of jasmine oil lingered in the air, the same fragrance Mei Chen had always used to scent her hair.

Xiulan wrapped her fingers around Mei Chen’s delicate wrist, searching for any sign of life.

Qi pulsed beneath the surface of Mei Chen’s skin, flowing through meridians in steady streams. The energy felt wrong somehow—too cold, yet too fast. Mei Chen’s chest rose and fell in tiny movements, each breath barely visible. The air stirred so slightly that a flame wouldn’t have flickered.

But no matter how long Xiulan pressed her fingers against the critical points, she detected no pulse. Mei Chen’s heart remained still and silent in her chest.

Yet she lived. Somehow, impossibly, she continued to exist in this strange state between life and death.

Xiulan traced her fingers along Mei Chen’s arm, noting the softness of her skin—no sign of rigor mortis or decay. The hundreds of status effects and spiritual ailments she remembered from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles offered no explanation for this condition.

The game didn’t allow you to be attacked while using a Meridian Opening Pill. Heck, the “mortal” characters taking them only existed as a spreadsheet of numbers until after the process was complete! The game world didn’t even affect them…

Xiulan released Mei Chen’s wrist and straightened her spine.

The need for an expert gnawed, but the aftermath of the massacre had consumed every moment. Even if the manor housed such specialists, which it didn’t, the constant stream of officials and mourners would have prevented any meaningful consultation.

But now…

The formal funeral proceedings would finally conclude.

A sharp knock echoed through the cold room.

“Enter,” Xiulan called.

Doctor Jin Wei stepped inside. The temperature shift made him shiver as he offered a deep bow. “Miss Lin.”

“Have you discovered anything?” Xiulan watched his face for any hint of hope.

“My deepest apologies.” Jin Wei shook his head. “This condition lies far beyond my expertise. I have no knowledge of immortal ailments. From a mortal perspective, I would say a spirit possesses her body, moving it despite the absence of a heartbeat.”

“The room grows colder each day.” Xiulan gestured to the frost forming on the window frame.

“The phenomenon must relate to her qi.” Jin Wei studied Mei Chen’s still form. “Without proper understanding, I fear her condition could deteriorate further.”

“I lack the necessary expertise to help her.” Xiulan clenched her fists.

“Perhaps Blackmere City holds someone with the knowledge we seek.” Jin Wei straightened his robes. “If not, the ducal capital of Aeris might provide answers.”

“Yes.” Xiulan nodded. “I’ll travel to our family manor in the city. Further if needed.”

Jin Wei adjusted his sleeves. “Travel poses significant risks, Miss Lin. The roads hold many who would harm you, especially given recent events.”

He produced a lacquered box from his robes and placed it on the low table. The lid creaked open to reveal twelve perfectly formed pills nestled in silk. “These may not match cultivator medicine in potency, but they should aid recovery when needed. Your immortal constitution should minimize any toxic effects and allow unlimited use.”

Xiulan leaned forward to examine the pills. Half shimmered with a deep blue sheen, while the others maintained a rich brown color. “What’s the difference?”

“The blue ones contain a higher dosage, potentially lethal to mortals. The brown are safe for anyone.” Jin Wei straightened. “I cannot guarantee enhanced effects for the blue, but they should be more potent. I can’t be sure without testing—I’ve never worked with someone on the path before.”

“Thank you.” Xiulan touched the smooth surface of a brown pill. “For everything. Without your care after the carriage accident, I likely wouldn’t have survived the fall from the cliff. Or all the other times…”

“I merely performed my duty.” Jin Wei bowed deeply. “Your recovery brings me satisfaction despite the dark cloud recent events have cast over us all.”

A sharp pain shot through Xiulan’s chest. “Yes, everything has been... unfortunate. I hope circumstances improve.”

Jin Wei departed just as Lan Zhao entered with a tea service, missing the offered refreshment. Steam rose in a cloud from the porcelain pot as Lan Zhao arranged the cups with practiced efficiency.

Xiulan poured herself a cup, letting the fragrant steam wash over her face. The empty room pressed in around her as she sat beside Mei Chen’s still form.

Recent events had solved nothing. Some things had gotten worse.

There was blood on her hands that could never be washed away, no matter how justified it had been.

Regretful Stream

In our pursuit of power, we often forget that the greatest wounds are not those inflicted by blade or spell but by the severing of bonds between those we hold dear. A child's trust, once broken, becomes harder to mend than any physical injury.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Spring air whipped through the training grounds as Xiulan adjusted her grip on the horse’s reins. The dappled mare shifted beneath her, muscles tensing. Balancing required precise control of her newfound strength—too much pressure from her thighs would crush the poor beast.

“More speed, Miss Lin! Keep your back straight!” Instructor Han’s voice cut through the morning air.

“On it!” Xiulan leaned forward and gave the reins a gentle snap. The mare responded instantly, hooves thundering against the packed earth as they accelerated around the pen’s perimeter.

“Now halt!”

Xiulan pulled back smoothly. The mare slowed to a trot before stopping at the pen’s center, snorting softly.

“A natural talent for horsemanship, Miss Lin.” Instructor Han nodded approvingly.

“Thank you.” Xiulan patted the mare’s neck. “Should we venture outside?”

Instructor Han studied them for a moment before striding to the gate. The wooden barrier creaked open, and Xiulan guided her mount through.

The connection between rider and horse felt oddly natural, though Xiulan couldn’t determine if her cultivator abilities enhanced the bond. Her memories provided no reference—Li Mei had only seen horses in pictures and videos, while the original Xiulan remained confined to carriages.

Freedom tasted sweeter from horseback. Her black martial dress split perfectly along hidden seams, the dark fabric stark against the mare’s light coat.

Instructor Han appeared at her side, taking hold of the lead rein. They proceeded through the estate’s western sector, circling the military grounds where soldiers snapped to attention, saluting as they passed.

“I need to visit the Lord’s Pavilion.” Xiulan patted the mare’s neck. “We can head there before you return her to the stables.”

“Of course, Miss Lin.” Instructor Han adjusted his grip on the lead rein.

They steered away from the military grounds toward Lord Lin’s former residence, the spring breeze carrying whispers and shuffling feet as merchants and officials scattered from their path.

Xiulan’s qi rippled through her meridians, disrupted by their obvious avoidance. She drew a steadying breath, focusing inward to smooth the energy flow coursing through her body. She still hadn’t mastered making such things completely reflexive, and her roiling emotions made the process much more difficult.

The rising pavilion emerged ahead, its curved roof stretching toward the sky. Xiulan swung down from the saddle, boots landing softly on the packed earth.

“Thank you for the lesson.” She straightened her martial dress. “Remember, we depart for Blackmere tomorrow. The men should be prepared.”

“They will be ready, Miss Lin.” Instructor Han saluted crisply before leading the mare back toward the stables.

The gate guards snapped to attention as Xiulan approached. She passed through the entrance—a boundary that once marked forbidden territory now opened freely before her. The courtyard opened wide, decorated with carefully arranged stone paths and flowering shrubs.

“Miss Lin.” An elderly servant bowed low. “How may I assist you?”

“I wish to see my mother.”

“This way, please.” The servant guided her to a sheltered gazebo where a tea service awaited. “She will join you shortly.”

The gentle rustle of silk announced Zhao Lian’s arrival; Xiulan stood and bowed deeply. The familiar scent of jasmine wafted through the air as Lian approached.

“Mother.” Xiulan straightened from her bow.

“Sit with me, Daughter.” Lian settled onto the cushion across the table. “How are you faring?”

Xiulan sank down onto her own cushion, studying the intricate patterns on the teacups. “My heart wavers these past days. Each step feels uncertain, like walking through mist without a lantern.”

A weak smile crossed Lian’s face. “You chose a harsh river to navigate. The current runs swift—too late now to turn back to calmer waters.”

The words struck deep. Xiulan released a pained breath. “What I did... it wasn’t evil. They tried to destroy us first. Would have killed us both without hesitation.”

Lian lifted her teacup, steam curling around her fingers. “And yet you feel clouded?”

“Yes.” Xiulan traced the rim of her cup. “Sometimes, I imagine a different path. One where we might have found peace. Zhang Wei...” She swallowed hard.

“Your actions carried meaning.” Lian set down her cup with precise grace. “Stay firm in your resolve. Remember what drove you to fight. What you sought to protect. Hold fast to those treasures in your heart. That is a woman’s strength before all else.”

Xiulan lifted the porcelain cup to her lips. The jasmine tea spread warmth through her chest, its subtle floral notes dancing across her tongue.

Lian released a measured breath. “The rumors build outside our walls. They spread through the province like autumn leaves in the wind—yet things might turn to our favor.”

“What do you mean?” Xiulan set her cup down with practiced grace.

“House Chao posted bounties across the region.” Lian traced the rim of her cup. “They seek a ‘ruthless cultivator’ who massacred the hall over some unnamed grudge. Your name remains absent from their proclamations. The deception shields us. For now.”

“Have there been any other developments?” Xiulan straightened her spine, qi flowing steadier through her meridians.

“Your grandfather agreed to send aid from Aeris.” A ghost of a smile crossed Lian’s face. “He dispatches your Cousin Min to assist us. He’s a martial expert, though not an immortal.”

Xiulan blinked. “Cousin Min? I don’t recall meeting anyone on your mother’s side of the family.”

“They never ventured to our humble Blackmere.” Lian shook her head. “And your father avoided the provincial capital’s celebrations. Such gatherings held little appeal for him.”

“I hope they can help,” Xiulan said. “Managing the estate will require more hands while I’m away. He's coming as an official investigator for the prefect?”

Lian nodded. "You know that your great grandfather holds the ducal title, and his son and my uncle is the provincial prefect. Your cousin will come to sort matters out and discuss the replacement for the county magistrate position. Zhang Wei is too young."

Xiulan frowned. "I won't be able to teach him. I'll have to be away too often."

“I’m not so decrepit that I can’t guide another child.” Lian poured more tea with practiced grace. “Zhang Wei shows both promise and talent.”

Xiulan traced the rim of her cup. “I plan to leave tomorrow with Instructor Han and Mei Chen. We need answers about her condition in Blackmere.”

“I have several official documents for you to carry to the city magistrate.” Lian withdrew a small sealed scroll from her sleeve. “The edicts require someone of rank to announce them. That duty falls to you now.”

“I’ll handle it.” Xiulan accepted the scroll, making sure the metal binding was bronze and not gold. Not that she didn’t trust her mother; it was just a mistake she’d never make again. Ever.

“House Chao will cause more trouble.” Lian set her cup down with precise movements. “Their current silence merely indicates confusion, not surrender.”

“Their county is nearly a province away,” Xiulan said. “The distance provides some buffer.”

“Distance only delays their response.” Lian’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Losing the stream of wealth from our family so suddenly will strike like a slap to the face.”

Xiulan clenched her fist. “They never deserved that income.”

“Obviously.” Lian released a measured sigh. “But facts won’t soften the blow. I’m recruiting more soldiers with our recovered funds. Their retaliation could prove harsh.”

“Invasion?” Xiulan frowned. “Provincial law—”

“They can’t justify annexation or invasion.” Lian cut in sharply. “But raids? Kidnapping Zhang Wei to seize control? Such schemes might succeed without proper preparation.”

Xiulan exhaled slowly. “Regardless of what they believe about the massacre, the rumors of a cultivator in the Lin family will make them cautious. They’ll likely seek something to balance that.”

“It’s worse than that. The Chao family reportedly sent someone to the Whispering Shadows Sect in their last generation.” Lian’s brow furrowed. “They likely maintain that connection.”

Anxiety coiled in Xiulan’s stomach. She leaned back and set her tea down, the porcelain clicking against wood.

The four major schools and sects in Arinthia flickered through her mind like a well-rehearsed strategy game.

The schools, formal institutions of learning, each offered distinct advantages. Skyward Institute’s mastery of qi control and air manipulation; Earth’s Embrace Academy’s focus on physical strength; Flameheart Sanctum’s fire affinity and alchemical prowess; and Aqua Seraph Academy’s water manipulation and healing arts.

These were places where young cultivators went to learn the foundations of their arts, typically spending years in structured education. Independents flocked to them and formed loosely bound alliances that sprawled across the entire kingdom.

But the sects were different beasts entirely.

While schools taught, sects lived their philosophies. The Celestial Lotus Sect in their pursuit of enlightenment; the Iron Fist Sect’s dedication to martial supremacy; the secretive Whispering Shadows Sect; and the fearsome Ember Dream Sect—they were not mere places of learning but lifelong commitments to a way of cultivation.

Aligning with any of them would bolster a family’s standing, but it would mean pledging loyalty to their cause.

Her gaze drifted to the scroll in her hand. Lord Lin’s actions began to make a twisted kind of sense.

Offending Zhang’s family, with their ties to the Whispering Shadows Sect, would have been disastrous. Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. Why had he let them sink their claws into the family in the first place?

She let out a sigh. The Whispering Shadows Sect posed the gravest threat. Their expertise in stealth, assassination, and espionage meant Zhang Wei’s safety hung by a thread. It would be difficult to protect him. Whether from assassination or kidnapping.

She couldn’t always be by his side. Even if she tried, it would weaken her ability to confront larger threats. She had crossed into a new realm of power, but maintaining that power required continuous cultivation.

Stagnation invited predation.

In her first attempts to form her own settlement in the game, she’d learned that well. It wasn’t until she had built up several characters to a pinnacle of power and used them to shepherd her lower-level ones that she actually made progress on her long-term goal of building her own settlement in a hidden valley.

Xiulan stared into her teacup, thoughts churning.

The kingdom’s guardian spiritual deities might enforce boundaries between mortal and Wulin communities, but those lines blurred easily near the roots.

A sect could dispatch a dozen Body Refinement disciples without drawing notice. The real question was Chao’s connection to Whispering Shadows. One family member might prove manageable, but deeper ties...

“Xiulan?” Lian tapped the table. “Are you well?”

“Things feel complicated.” Xiulan released a tense breath. “Just thinking through possibilities.”

Lian drained the last drops from her cup and set it down with a soft clink. “Visit Zhang Wei while you’re here. He needs his sister. The brightness has left his eyes these past days.”

“Of course.” Xiulan nodded.

“I’ll send updates when possible.” Lian straightened the teapot. “Consider purchasing messenger birds in Blackmere. The Treasure Pavilion should accommodate someone with your... connection.”

“You knew about that?” Xiulan’s eyes widened.

“A cart full of cultivation goods arrived at our door.” Lian’s lips curved upward. “I’m not blind. Though I still wonder how you established such a relationship.”

“Fate.” Xiulan offered a weak smile.

She stood and wrapped her arms around her mother. “I’ll find Zhang Wei now. Try to lift his spirits.” Lian squeezed Xiulan tight before releasing her.

Xiulan stepped away and headed toward the main building, looking to a servant for guidance.

“Young Master Wei takes his writing lessons in the east wing,” the servant said, bowing deeply.

The indicated room sat empty, scrolls scattered across the low table. Fresh ink stained the bamboo brush holder. Xiulan traced the still-damp characters on an abandoned practice sheet. The strokes showed promise but lacked confidence.

Spring sunlight filtered through the corridors as Xiulan searched. She checked the kitchens, the living areas, and even the storerooms. Each location yielded nothing but worried servants and guards.

A flash of movement caught her attention near the back gardens. Through gaps in the ornamental fence, she spotted Zhang Wei huddled beside a fishpond. He clutched his knees to his chest, staring at the rippling water where koi fish darted beneath lily pads.

Xiulan crept forward across the moss-covered stones. In one swift motion, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

“Sister Xiulan!” Zhang Wei yelped, jumping beneath her embrace.

“Thinking about catching dinner?” Xiulan chuckled softly.

Zhang Wei opened his mouth to respond but deflated instead. His gaze drifted back to the pond, where golden scales flickered beneath the surface.

Xiulan held him close but remained silent, letting him process his thoughts. The spring breeze rustled through bamboo leaves overhead.

“Why did you kill them?” His small voice cracked.

The question hit like a physical blow.

Xiulan tightened her arms around him as he gripped her sleeve. He leaned back against her chest, trembling slightly.

“They...” Xiulan swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “They tried to kill me. They tried to kill Mei Chen. They wouldn’t have stopped until they succeeded.”

“Even Father and Suyin?”

Questing Drift

In times of crisis, authority flows not from titles alone but from the courage to act decisively. A true leader must sometimes break down gates to build bridges, for the walls we erect in fear often become the chains that bind us. Remember that power wielded with wisdom can transform destruction into creation; sometimes the greatest act of leadership is to shatter the very barriers we once thought protected us.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

The southern gate hummed with activity as soldiers formed neat rows alongside two ornate carriages and a supply wagon. Servants scurried between them, making final preparations.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Xiulan approached the lead carriage. A thin layer of frost coated the metal handle, crackling beneath her touch as she pulled the door open. A wisp of cold air escaped, carrying the faintest scent of winter despite the spring warmth.

Inside, Mei Chen lay motionless on the plush seat, wrapped in layers of thick blankets—a pretense of comfort that did nothing to warm her unnaturally cold body.

Xiulan reached out, pressing two fingers against Mei Chen’s neck. No pulse. Her qi remained rapid and cold as before, neither advancing nor retreating from that strange threshold between life and death.

The carriage door clicked shut with quiet finality. Xiulan turned toward the mounted escort where Instructor Han waited beside her saddled horse. The leather of her new riding boots creaked as she approached.

“We stand ready, Miss Lin.” Instructor Han bowed from his saddle.

Xiulan swung herself onto her horse with ease. The weight of two new daggers pressed against her sides as she settled into position. Her short spear tugged at her back in its new sheathe.

This time, she faced the road as a rider rather than a passenger, now with a commanding view of everything.

“Let’s go.” Xiulan nudged her horse forward, and the convoy lurched into motion behind her.

The mountain path winded through stands of ancient pines and cypress trees. Xiulan breathed in the crisp air, savoring the freedom of horseback rather than being confined to a stuffy carriage. Each hoofbeat carried them further from the estate’s suffocating politics.

The sun climbed overhead as they approached a familiar clearing. Xiulan’s stomach twisted at the sight of the abandoned campsite where they’d helped the woodsmen. Empty.

Just like every search party’s report on the missing woodcutters; more victims of her father’s machinations and Madam Zhang’s cruelty. At least her mother would be dealing with the snakes.

“Instructor Han.” Xiulan turned in her saddle. “Can we reach the bottom before sunset?”

“With this weather and our pace?” Instructor Han nodded. “The path ahead runs clear.”

“Then let’s press on.” Xiulan spurred her horse past the clearing. The sooner they left the ghosts behind, the better. “We’ll make camp in the forest below.”

Orange sunlight filtered through the canopy as they reached the valley floor and the convoy spread out to establish their campsite among the trees.

“Deer!” The crossbowman’s excited shout drew Xiulan toward the edge of camp.

A sharp twang split the air. Xiulan joined the men checking behind the targeted bush. A small deer lay motionless, the bolt placed with surprising accuracy.

The guards gathered wood and soon had a fire crackling. The aroma of roasting venison filled the clearing as they shared stories and laughter. Xiulan sat at the edge of their circle, watching their easy companionship with an uncertain distance.

She ate slowly while listening to their chatter. When she was done, she set aside her empty bowl and stood. “Time to retire for the night.”

“Your tent stands ready, Miss Lin.” Instructor Han gestured toward a spacious pavilion tent.

“The men can use it. Three or four should fit in there comfortably.” Xiulan brushed the dust from her robes.

Confused glances passed between the soldiers. Instructor Han cleared his throat. “Miss, can I ask where you intend to rest?”

“On top of Mei Chen’s carriage.”

The campfire crackled in the ensuing silence. Worry etched across some of the men’s faces, but none dared question her decision.

Xiulan strode to the carriage and climbed the wooden side panels, the surface radiating an unnatural chill that seeped through her clothing. Once on the roof, she crossed her legs and settled into a comfortable position. The forest’s gentle quiet embraced her—a welcome contrast to the suffocating hum of overlapping qi signatures back at the estate that drowned out any chance of focus.

Even with a few guards nearby and the icy knot whirling below her seat, the air felt clear and calm. Her own energy was distinct and sharp, unhindered by the overwhelming presence of others.

Perhaps, Xiulan mused, I should search for one of those hidden mystical locations from the game.

The night air brushed cool against her skin as she closed her eyes and drew steady breaths. A persistent tug pulled at her qi—subtle but constant, like a thread caught on a nail.

She pressed two fingers against her wrist, following the energy path up her arm. The meridian flowed smoothly until it hit a knot near her elbow.

With precise pressure, she pressed her qi flow there until it released with a satisfying pop. The sensation reminded her of cracking joints after sitting too long at her old retail job.

Her qi pooled in her dantian, a warm sphere of power centered below her navel. From there, channels branched outward like rivers across a map. Some paths matched her memories from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles—the energetic flow through her heart center and the clear passage through her crown.

She sensed a steady flow of energy extending through the key pathways: the Ren Mai rising along her front, the Du Mai coursing up her spine.

The game had taught her that each cultivator’s network developed uniquely, though certain core pathways remained constant. Understanding the personal variations meant the difference between efficient cultivation and wasted effort.

Xiulan traced each channel methodically, working to learn herself. Body Refinement’s first stage demanded careful preparation. Rushing into strength training or purification techniques without this fundamental knowledge invited disaster. She knew that much, at least.

In the game, players who skipped the step often crippled their cultivation permanently.

Xiulan pulled her wandering thoughts back to center. A slight persistent tug on her qi grew more noticeable as she focused. It flowed in a steady direction. Something about Mei Chen?

She snapped her eyes open and leapt from the carriage roof.

A guard startled backwards. “Miss Lin!”

Xiulan waved off his concern and yanked open the carriage door. Frigid air billowed out in visible clouds around her face. The cold bit through her robes as she stepped inside, but she ignored the discomfort and settled onto the seat across from Mei Chen’s still form.

Cross-legged once more, Xiulan steadied her breathing and sank back into meditation. The pull on her qi intensified—stronger and more insistent than before. A frown creased her brow.

Moving carefully, Xiulan reached beneath the layers of blankets wrapping Mei Chen. She grasped the girl’s icy hand and gently propped her upright on the seat, their shoulders pressing together as Xiulan resumed her meditation.

The skin contact made a difference. A jolt shocked through her system. Qi surged out of the meridian in her palm, bleeding away like water through a crack. Xiulan’s eyes widened.

Is my qi flowing into Mei Chen?

Xiulan relaxed her grip on the meridian gates, allowing her qi to flow freely. The energy poured through their connected palms like water breaking through a dam. Despite the drain, the reservoir of power in her dantian remained deep and steady.

The carriage’s confined space amplified the hum of flowing qi. Frost patterns on the windows caught moonlight in crystalline fractals. A minute passed as Xiulan monitored the transfer, counting breaths to maintain precise timing.

When it felt like she should stop and assess, she closed the meridian gates and opened her eyes. Disappointment settled in her stomach at Mei Chen’s unchanged state. The young maid remained motionless, skin pale as fresh snow.

A heavy sigh escaped her—then Xiulan froze. The air in front of her face remained clear. No cloud of condensation.

Xiulan pressed her free hand against the carriage wall. The wood felt cool rather than bitingly cold. The oppressive chill that had permeated the space dissipated, replaced by merely cool night air.

The negative yin energy... Xiulan studied Mei Chen’s face intently. Had her qi somehow counteracted whatever gripped her friend?

Relief flooded through Xiulan as she studied the warming carriage interior. The supernatural cold that had threatened to turn Mei Chen’s transport into an ice tomb was fully retreating.

At least they wouldn’t need to explain why their carriage left frost trails once they reached Blackmere City.

Xiulan traced the smooth wood paneling with her fingertips, marveling at how the temperature had normalized. No more terrified servants jumping back from the death-cold touch of the door handle. No more whispered rumors of evil spirits and cursed cargo.

It was surprising at just how much a relief it was to have a reprieve or how those whispers had hurt.

I could keep sharing my qi with her... Xiulan studied Mei Chen’s still face in the moonlight filtering through the window. The possibility of awakening her friend through continued qi transfer tempted her, but uncertainty held her back.

Too much energy might harm rather than heal—like overcharging a delicate device.

“Please get better soon, Mei Chen.” Xiulan squeezed the cold hand beneath her palm.

Without proper guidance from a cultivation expert, she dared not risk experimenting further with the mysterious connection between them.

Instead of returning to the carriage roof, she leaned her head on Mei Chen’s blankets and closed her eyes.

Maybe she was insane, sleeping beside what the servants had considered a corpse, but the cold didn’t bother her now.

And maybe her warmth would help her friend, just like the shared qi.

Dawn painted the sky in muted oranges as the convoy prepared to depart. Xiulan adjusted her riding posture atop her horse. The morning air carried a crisp bite that helped clear her head.

The city walls emerged on the horizon well before noon. A mass of people crowded the road leading to the main gate: merchants with loaded carts, farmers hauling produce, and travelers seeking entrance.

The crowd parted before the convoy’s approach, but the heavy wooden gates remained firmly shut.

“Why are the gates closed?” Xiulan projected her voice toward the guards stationed outside. The gleam of their polished armor caught the midday sun.

One guard stepped forward. “By order of the city magistrate, the gates will remain sealed for one month to honor the passing of our beloved Lord Lin.”

“A month?” Instructor Han’s incredulous tone matched Xiulan’s own disbelief.

“These incompetent fools.” Xiulan gripped her reins tighter. “The entire city would starve before the month ends.” She straightened in her saddle. “Open these gates immediately!”

The guards exchanged uncertain glances. “Apologies, but the city magistrate’s seal blocks your path.”

Xiulan reached into her robe and withdrew the bronze scroll. The metal caught the sunlight, its official seal glinting with authority. A surge of gratitude for her mother’s foresight warmed her chest.

“I am the sister of Lord Lin and the previous lord’s daughter!” The words rang across the crowded street. “I bear an official scroll from the lady regent! Open these gates at once!”

The gathered crowd fell silent. Guards whispered among themselves, boots shuffling against stone as they passed messages back and forth. Minutes stretched like hours until a deep groan echoed from the gates. Ancient hinges protested as the heavy wooden doors swung inward.

A guard captain strode forward and bowed. “Lady Lin’s convoy may enter, but according to the city magistrate’s orders, the common folk must remain—”

“My mother issued no such order.” Xiulan cut through his words. “Tell me, captain. Do you serve House Lin, or does the city magistrate stand in rebellion against the county magistrate’s seat?”

The captain’s gaze darted between the spear strapped to Xiulan’s back and her assembled guards. Calculations flickered behind his eyes before he dropped into a deep bow.

“We’ve heard no word of the appointment of a new County Magistrate, but the city’s guard has long been loyal to House Lin. Long live Lord Lin!” The captain’s voice carried across the gathered crowd. “The city gate will remain open.”

He lowered his voice so only she and those nearby could hear. “This humble servant suggests the lord’s sister consult with the city’s magistrate to ensure he follows the lord’s will and not his own.”

The warning and support were duly noted, and Xiulan saluted the man. “Thank you, captain.”

Xiulan nudged her horse forward, leading the convoy through the massive gates. Another task added to her growing list—first secure the manor house and settle Mei Chen, then deal with the overzealous magistrate.

The convoy rolled through nearly empty streets. An unnatural hush blanketed the city, broken only by the clip-clop of hooves against stone.

Small processions of monks waved incense sticks, their mourning chants echoing off shuttered buildings. Faces peered from behind partially closed doors and windows, disappearing at the convoy’s approach.

“What the hell happened here?” The words escaped before Xiulan could stop them.

Instructor Han guided his horse closer. “News of the massacre must have horrified them.”

A cold weight settled in Xiulan’s stomach. She hadn’t considered how the common folk would react to news of her actions. Or the rumors that had spread.

The Lin family city manor’s imposing gates came into view, offering a brief respite from her dark thoughts.

Instructor Han leaped from his horse and strode to the gate. His fists hammered against the wood. “Open these gates in the name of House Lin!”

But repeated pounding against the thick wood yielded nothing but silence; the gates remained locked tight. Several others joined him in rousing those inside.

“Go away!” A trembling voice called from within. “No one is allowed entry!”

Xiulan swung down from her mount, boots striking the cobblestones. “The sister of Lord Lin demands entry to her family’s home!”

Muffled whispers and shuffling feet sounded from behind the gate, but silence answered her command. The postern gate caught her attention—a smaller door built into the main gate for pedestrian traffic. Though reinforced with iron bands, it presented a more manageable target than the main gates.

“Anyone behind that door needs to clear away. Now!” The qi stirred within her chest as she counted heartbeats. One. Two. Three...

At ten, Xiulan channeled energy through her arms. Her palms struck the door opposite its hinges with explosive force. Wood splintered and metal shrieked as the postern gate burst inward.

She stepped through the wreckage into the courtyard. Instructor Han and her guards rushed in behind her, weapons glinting in the sunlight.

Six house guards huddled near the wall while servants clutched an assortment of kitchen knives and farming tools.

“Where is the house manager?” Xiulan planted her feet. “Who dares block my path?”

Rebellious Ebb

In times of strife, the wise warrior watches for the jester's blade. For while a fool may dance and prate, his movements often mask a deeper purpose, and his words may hold encrypted meaning. The greatest deceptions often wear the mask of incompetence.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan pressed the double doors open and strode into the lord’s hall. The sight before her stopped her dead: the house manager lounged upon the throne, surrounded by a dozen servants engaged in hushed discussion.

“What is the meaning of this disrespect and usurpation?” Her words thundered through the chamber.

The whispered conversations died instantly. Faces snapped toward her, eyes widening in shock. The servants scattered like startled birds, and the officials backed away from the throne as Xiulan’s guards filed into the room behind her.

The house manager’s face drained of color. “Who dares break into the Lin family’s city manor? You’ll be arrested!”

“Hah?” Xiulan barked out a laugh. “I am Lord Lin’s sister, and this is my family’s house.” She took a step forward. “It seems you believe it belongs to you now that my father has passed.”

A glint of gold caught her attention. The house manager’s hand trembled, and there on his finger sat the golden signet ring of the city manor.

Her family’s ring.

Qi surged through her meridians like a broken dam, flooding her system with raw power. Another corrupt bastard was stealing from her family.

In one fluid motion, Xiulan reached over and yanked Instructor Han’s sword from its scabbard. The steel sang as she advanced toward the throne.

The house manager stumbled as he stood, nearly falling in his haste to escape the seat he’d stolen. “Guards! Guards!”

Xiulan’s blade whistled through the air. A spray of arterial blood painted the walls crimson as the house manager’s head separated from his shoulders.

She knelt beside the headless corpse and pried the golden signet ring from its stiffening fingers. The metal felt warm against her skin—a warmth that belonged to her family, not this thief.

She stood and wiped the ring clean on her sleeve before kicking the corpse off the throne’s raised dais. The body rolled out into the hall, coming to a stop in front of the terrified officials.

The wooden throne creaked under her weight as she settled into its curves. Blood dripped steadily onto the polished floor while her guards maintained their positions.

The remaining officials huddled together like frightened sheep, sweat gleaming on their faces.

“You.” Xiulan pointed at a trembling servant. “Get some others, clean this mess, and bring me a velvet box for the ring. Now.”

The servant bolted from the room. Others scrambled to gather cleaning supplies, their movements frantic.

“Listen well.” Xiulan’s words cut through the panicked atmosphere. “I am Lin Xiulan, daughter of your previous lord. My brother Zhang Wei now leads House Lin, with our mother, Lady Zhao Lian, serving as regent. They have granted me authority to act on behalf of our family when needed.”

The officials dropped to their knees in perfect unison, foreheads pressed against the blood-spattered floor.

“We pledge our undying loyalty to Miss Lin and House Lin!” Their voices echoed through the chamber.

Snakes, the lot of them. Xiulan watched their display of submission with cold calculation. She’d need to root them out, replace them—but that would come later.

“Instructor Han Shun, present yourself!”

Instructor Han stepped forward and dropped into a formal bow. “This humble servant awaits the decree of Lord Lin’s Honored Sister.”

Xiulan rose from the throne, each step deliberate across the blood-stained marble. The sword gleamed in her grip as she extended it toward him. He accepted the blade with steady hands, his weathered face betraying no emotion.

“From this moment forward, you will serve as house manager of Lin Manor.”

The proclamation echoed through the silent chamber. Not a single breath disturbed the stillness—even the cowering officials dared not twitch.

“Miss Lin, I—” Han Shun straightened. “I have no experience as an official.”

“You do now.” Xiulan lifted her chin. “There’s no one I trust more for this position, and no other candidate would be acceptable. You’ll adapt.”

Han Shun’s sword slid home into its scabbard with a crisp snap. He dropped into another formal salute. “I am honored to serve.”

Xiulan returned to the throne, settling back against the carved wood. Her gaze swept over the officials still prostrated before her, their fine robes soaking up the cooling blood on the floor.

“Now then.” She drummed her fingers against the armrest. “Who would like to explain the treason I witnessed earlier?”

The officials scrambled up like desperate puppies, each trying to speak over the others in their haste to confess.

Xiulan pulled Mei Chen’s chamber door shut with a soft click. The second qi transfer had worked—the supernatural cold retreated from the girl’s body, buying precious time to handle other matters.

“No one enters without a good reason.” Xiulan addressed the servant who stood rigid beside the doorframe.

She turned to the two guards flanking the entrance. “Watch anyone who enters the chamber. Have someone stay present at all times. No one is to be left alone in there.”

“Yes, Miss Lin.” The guards thumped their fists against their chests in salute.

The wooden stairs creaked under her feet as she descended. Halfway down, Xiulan paused to examine her robes. Blood soaked the bottom hem, with arterial spray decorating the front in dark patches against the black fabric. The red sash highlighted the macabre pattern.

Change, or go straight to the magistrate?

The blood would send a message. If the city magistrate shared the house manager’s corruption—and Xiulan suspected he did—seeing the consequences of betrayal might loosen his tongue.

Xiulan strode through the manor’s corridors toward the city court. In the courtyard, Han Shun stood between two officials, their heated discussion cutting off at her approach. All three men dropped into hasty bows.

“Miss Lin!”

“What brings such heated debate?” Xiulan kept her blood-stained robes visible as she addressed the men.

Han Shun straightened. “The city borrowed half our guard force for security duties. There is resistance in the thought of recalling them.”

Xiulan turned toward the shorter official. His ornate blue robes marked him as a member of the Treasury Department. “You object to the return of our guards?”

“Miss Lin.” The official bowed low. “The guard deployment came with substantial payments to the manor treasury.”

A cold weight settled in Xiulan’s stomach. “And the funds are missing to cancel this agreement?”

Sweat beaded on the official’s forehead. He dabbed at it with an embroidered handkerchief. “The treasury maintains its reserves, but losing this income would strain our business operations.”

“Explain how our family enterprises became so fragile that a single setback threatens ruin.” Xiulan glared.

He couldn’t even look her in the face, his shoulders slumped as he stared at the courtyard stones. “The... the loan for the soldiers totaled five hundred thousand taels.”

That much? It was far more than she had expected.

She shook her head. “How long was this contract arranged for?”

The man dabbed fresh sweat from his brow. “Two years, Miss Lin. Lord Lin authorized the agreement roughly six months ago.”

The tension eased from Xiulan’s shoulders. Father arranged this before the current troubles. Not part of the usurpation, after all. The knowledge settled some of the rage burning in her chest.

“We should recall our men, regardless. Recent events demand a full complement of guards.” Xiulan turned to Manager Han. “I’ll discuss the matter with the city magistrate during my visit.”

The officials bowed deeply. “As you command, Miss Lin.”

“Han.” Xiulan adjusted the blood-stained sleeve of her robe. “I will require a replacement for the captain of my personal guard. You can’t manage both sets of duties at the same time.”

“I know of several candidates that would show promise.” Han Shun straightened. “Would you prefer selections from the manor guard or the city contingent?”

She really didn’t have much to go on to have a preference. “Either. Review their capabilities. Present me with the three most promising for evaluation.”

“At once, Miss Lin.” Han Shun thumped his fist against his chest.

Xiulan nodded and then strode toward the main entrance.

The rhythmic bang of hammers echoed through the courtyard as workers struggled to repair the postern gate. Metal groaned as they wrestled with the bent frame, preparing to mount a new door reinforced with iron bands.

Xiulan scanned the courtyard, settling on two guards who stood straighter than their companions. She pointed at them directly. “You two, with me.” Their weapons clinked as they fell into step behind her.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets as she navigated through the city’s winding paths. Merchants hawked their wares from wooden stalls, their voices competing with the clatter of cart wheels and the bleating of livestock. The familiar scent of roasted sweet potatoes wafted from a nearby vendor.

It was better than when they had arrived and the streets had been deserted.

The Magistrate’s Pavilion pierced the sky ahead—a five-story dedication to bureaucratic authority. Though it fell short of Lin Manor’s grandeur, its green-tiled roof caught the sunlight, marking it as one of the city’s three primary landmarks, along with the Treasure Pavilion and religious temple.

Xiulan rounded the final corner and stopped. A wall of shields blocked the pavilion’s entrance. Spearheads glinted above the barrier as a full platoon of city guards stood ready, their armor gleaming with fresh polish. The blood on Xiulan’s robes seemed to harden their response.

“Wait by the wall.” Xiulan gestured to her guards without looking back. Their boots scuffed against stone as they retreated, eager to distance themselves from whatever was about to unfold.

A figure in polished armor stepped through the shield wall. The city guard captain’s cape snapped in the morning breeze as he approached, hand resting on his sword hilt. It was a different man than had manned the gate.

Xiulan pulled her mother’s scroll case into view. “I bring an official message for the city magistrate.”

“For breaking city law, you’re under arrest!” The captain’s shout echoed across the courtyard.

Xiulan exhaled slowly. Of course they’d abandon subtlety now. The direct approach would simplify matters. “Neither you nor the magistrate possess authority to arrest me.”

Metal scraped against leather as the captain drew his sword, pointing the polished blade at her chest. “Lin Xiulan! We’ll take you into custody here and now!”

A sharp clatter drew Xiulan’s attention upward. Sunlight glinted off blue silk as a figure launched from the nearby rooftop. The man spun through the air in an elaborate somersault before landing—with impossible precision—atop the captain’s extended blade. The captain crumpled under the sudden weight.

The newcomer struck an exaggerated pose, his embroidered martial arts outfit rippling in the morning breeze. “I, Ren Chun, disciple of the great Hong Bi, shall prevent today’s massacre!”

He drew his sword with an unnecessary flourish, the blade describing elaborate patterns in the air before settling into a formal salute.

“Draw your weapon, villain! I’ll protect the city and capture the rogue cultivator who slaughtered the county lord and claim eternal glory!”

Xiulan stared at the posturing figure.

Who is this idiot?

Useful Flows

When navigating the treacherous waters of power, remember that not all who oppose you are enemies, and not all who aid you are friends. The true art lies in recognizing which is which.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan brushed her sleeve. “Massacred the county lord? On what evidence do you make such claims?”

“The proof drips from your very robes!” Ren Chun flourished his sword in an elaborate pattern. “Your guilt stains you crimson!”

“The county lord was my father.” Xiulan’s words cut through his theatrical display. “And that happened a week ago. This blood?” She lifted her stained sleeve. “It’s so fresh it hasn’t even dried properly.”

Ren Chun’s dramatic pose faltered. The tip of his sword dipped toward the ground as confusion spread across his features.

“Our house manager decided the family signet ring would look better on his finger.” Xiulan’s lips curved into a cold smile. “He thought to claim our city manor for himself. I corrected his misconception.”

The martial artist’s blade wavered further, uncertainty completely replacing his earlier bravado.

Xiulan swept her arm toward the assembled guards and their captain. “And now we find the city magistrate acting in a manner most peculiar.”

She tilted her head. “How interesting that he orders my arrest immediately after I executed the conspirator. Almost as if...” She paused for effect. “He stands in open rebellion against House Lin.”

The guard captain stumbled to his feet, though Ren Chun remained standing on his sword, pinning it to the ground.

“Seize the criminal!” The captain jabbed a finger toward Xiulan.

“How can I trust your words?” Ren Chun asked. “Tales spread of a cultivator murdering the county lord’s family. I tracked these rumors here and now find you—another cultivator—claiming to be of that same house!”

Xiulan stared at him. “Hah?”

The bronze scroll case clicked open beneath her fingers. She extracted the official mandate, its bronze metallic sheen catching the morning light. The familiar weight of House Lin’s seal pressed against her palm as she held it aloft.

“I bear House Lin’s seal and on an official mandate for the city magistrate.” She raised her chin. “Prepare to receive the mandate.”

A solid thud echoed behind her. Xiulan glanced back to see her two guards drop to their knees, fists pressed to their hearts in formal salute.

A dozen guards broke from the platoon’s formation, creating a smaller group to the side. They dropped to their knees in perfect unison, armor clinking against the stone.

“We guards from House Lin remain loyal! We receive the lord’s mandate!” The front guard pressed his fist against his chest.

Xiulan turned to Ren Chun. She gestured toward the remaining guards still following the captain. “See? They’re the traitors.”

A frown crossed her lips. “Did they hire you to help them?”

“Of course not!” Ren Chun’s face twisted in horror. “I merely passed through and witnessed what appeared to be injustice!”

Before Xiulan could respond, Ren Chun spun and struck the guard captain square in the jaw. He crumpled without a sound.

Xiulan watched in disbelief as Ren Chun bounded between the remaining men. He moved with inhuman speed, striking precise points that dropped each guard unconscious. His movements flowed like a dance—punch, dodge, weave, strike—leaving groaning bodies in his wake.

Seriously? Xiulan stared as the self-proclaimed justice seeker continued his non-lethal rampage across the courtyard.

When he finished, Ren Chun dropped into a bow before Xiulan. “My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding, Miss Lin. I shall resume my search for the true rogue cultivator elsewhere.”

He turned to leave, but Xiulan’s mind raced. The game knowledge she had didn’t really translate into politics, events, and people five years before the game even began. And a wandering martial artist might know things I’d never learn on my own without guidance.

“Wait.” The command rang across the courtyard.

Ren Chun froze mid-step, pivoting to face her.

“You’ve caused me quite the inconvenience.” Xiulan gestured at the unconscious guards scattered across the stones. “How am I supposed to question them now?”

“Inconvenience?” Ren Chun blinked.

“Indeed.” Xiulan tapped the bronze scroll case. “You forced me to reveal both mandate and seal before their proper time. Such matters require... precise handling.” She squared her shoulders. “Since you’ve disrupted my plans, you’ll accompany me to the city magistrate to witness the consequences.”

There probably weren’t any. She was just being melodramatic… but he didn’t need to know that.

“But I helped you!” Ren Chun pointed at the scattered unconscious guards. “Besides, we’re both merely at the Body Refinement stage, taking our first steps. Shouldn’t we work to separate ourselves from worldly concerns?”

The morning breeze rustled through the courtyard as Ren Chun adopted a more serene expression. “I understand that, as the lord’s sister, you’re more deeply entangled in these matters than I am. But I’ve already freed myself from such trivial bindings!”

Is he serious? Xiulan suppressed an eye roll. “Hah? You just knocked out half the guard force. If you leave now, won’t that cause me even more trouble?” She crossed her arms. “You’ll owe me quite the debt when I have to work to clear your name.”

“Clear my name?” Ren Chun’s eyebrows shot up.

“Of course.” Xiulan gestured at the unconscious bodies littering the courtyard stones. “You attacked city guards. Some might even label you a criminal if the wrong version of events spreads.”

Horror spread across Ren Chun’s face. “But I fight for justice!”

“Yes, yes. Justice.” Xiulan nodded with exaggerated patience. “And now you owe me two or three favors. So you’ll accompany me to the city magistrate.”

The city magistrate’s great gates slumped against the compound walls, the massive wooden structures knocked off their hinges.

That’ll take a hundred men with pulleys to fix.

Xiulan traced the splintered edges with her gaze. The replacement magistrate—a minor official she’d promoted with the same method as she used in her family manor for the house manager—would have to deal with the mess. She would need to write a letter to her mother explaining everything, but she'd do that when she had some free time.

At least Mother’s orders remained clear: maintain existing laws, take no drastic actions. The scroll in Xiulan’s sleeve confirmed her authority as a deputy house member. Simple, straightforward, and exactly what she needed right now.

Ren Chun’s back drew her attention as he walked ahead. His movements spoke of years of training, each step measured and balanced. His master, Hong Bi—whoever that was—had molded him into a weapon far beyond her current capabilities.

If he decided to fight me now... She suppressed a shudder. Her few days of cultivation wouldn’t stand against his experience.

But his earnest proclamations about justice revealed a different kind of weakness—one she could use.

Why let all that strength chase abstract ideals when it could serve concrete purposes?

Her two guards fell into formation as they passed through the broken gates, their boots crunching on scattered splinters.

Ren Chun turned and pressed his fist to his palm in a formal salute. “This has been most interesting, Miss Lin. I trust justice has been served.” He pivoted to leave.

Xiulan reached out and grabbed Ren Chun’s shoulder. The muscles beneath her fingers turned to stone.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

He turned to look at her. “Isn’t our business complete?”

A laugh bubbled up from Xiulan’s chest. “You helped with the gate and guards—tasks I could have handled myself. By my count, you still owe me two favors.”

“Tw-two?” Ren Chun’s eyes widened. “But why?”

“Simple arithmetic.” Xiulan tapped her fingers against her sleeve. “You started with three. I still had to deal with the city magistrate alone, plus clear your name from that mess. One favor down, two to go.”

The morning sun caught the gilded roof of the Treasure Pavilion as Xiulan pointed toward it. “I need to visit there. Let’s go, and I will consider how you can repay me.”

“I can’t!” Ren Chun stepped back, shaking his head. “I have a quest, I have to—”

Xiulan raised her hand. “Stop. How long will this quest take?”

“Uh...” Ren Chun shifted his weight. “Two days?”

Xiulan nodded. “Two days works perfectly. Return to the city manor then—after your quest.”

Confusion flickered across Ren Chun’s features. The morning sunlight cast shadows beneath his furrowed brows.

Xiulan stepped forward and slapped his back with an open palm. “What are you waiting for? Isn’t your quest important? Something needing justice?”

“Oh! Yes!” Ren Chun brightened. “I should hurry if I want to return in time.”

He crouched, muscles tensing, then launched himself upward. His form sailed through the air, landing gracefully on the nearest rooftop. In three quick bounds, he disappeared over the curved tiles.

Could I learn to move like that? Xiulan studied the path he’d taken, mapping the angles and distances in her mind. The qinggong technique would prove invaluable for both combat and stealth. Perhaps I’ll convince him to teach me when he returns.

The busy morning crowds parted as Xiulan strode toward the Treasure Pavilion.

Merchants called their wares from wooden stalls while the scent of steamed buns wafted through the narrow streets. Her boots clicked against the worn cobblestones, echoing off the closely packed buildings.

The Treasure Pavilion’s outer wall gleamed as they approached. Xiulan passed through the iron-bound gate into the serene garden courtyard. Carefully trimmed bushes lined stone paths while a small stream burbled beneath a decorative bridge. The main building cast long shadows across the precisely raked gravel.

A servant in blue silk robes bowed. “Welcome to the Treasure Pavilion.”

“Please inform Master Qingfeng that Lin Xiulan requests an audience.”

Movement caught her eye. In the courtyard’s corner, two cultivators hunched over a Go board, the same pair she’d noticed on her previous visit—the pavilion’s security team. Their matching indigo robes marked them as martial brothers from the same sect.

Xiulan pressed her right fist against her left palm and bowed, offering a formal cultivator’s greeting. The pair exchanged glances before returning shallow nods. Black and white stones clicked against the board as they resumed their game.

A different servant appeared and gestured toward the main building’s entrance. “Master Qingfeng will see you now in the tea room.”

Xiulan followed the servant through polished double doors into the pavilion’s main hall, her boots whispering against smooth floorboards as they approached an ornate staircase. The wood creaked beneath their feet, marking their progress to the second floor as they passed through a hallway lined with paper screens, the morning sunlight filtering through delicate patterns of birds and flowers.

A sliding door scraped open, revealing Master Qingfeng seated behind a low table. Steam rose from an elegant tea service, carrying the distinct sweet-herb scent of Heaven Grass tea. The aroma brought back memories of her first visit when she’d desperately needed help.

“Please, sit.” Master Qingfeng gestured to an embroidered cushion.

Xiulan lowered herself onto the cushion and bowed. “Thank you for receiving me, Master Qingfeng.”

“My investment appears to have yielded promising returns already.” Master Qingfeng’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Your qi speaks volumes about recent changes.”

“As promised.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “Though new circumstances bring new challenges. I hoped you might assist.”

Master Qingfeng poured the tea with practiced grace. A warm smile spread across his features. “Isn’t that why everyone comes to the Treasure Pavilion?”

Standard Mentor Conversation

The weight of debt binds tighter than chains, yet some burdens we must bear willingly for those we cherish.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan lifted the delicate porcelain cup to her lips, savoring the sweet-herb aroma. The silence stretched across the room like an invisible thread pulling tighter with each passing moment.

Why isn’t he saying anything else?

The tea heated a path down her throat, doing little to calm her mounting tension. She placed the cup onto the polished table with a soft click.

“The alchemy proved successful.”

Master Qingfeng stroked his pointed beard, one eyebrow lifting toward his hairline. “Indeed. You’ve managed to open all your meridians as well, though the qi eddies suggest quite a rough process.” He leaned forward, studying her with sharp eyes. “Most remarkable, considering your benefactor’s apparent lack of guidance.”

The steam from her tea cup swirled in intricate patterns. Xiulan stared into its depths. “You’re right. I received no explanation about the process before taking the pill.”

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention. Master Qingfeng’s cup hung suspended halfway to his mouth, his previous genial expression replaced by deep furrows across his brow.

“Such irresponsibility could have cost your life.” He set his cup down with deliberate care. “I question whether this benefactor truly has your interests at heart. Troubling rumors have reached my ears…” He paused, studying her face. “Perhaps this explains your visit today?”

“Hah...” Pain lanced through Xiulan’s chest. “The rumors about my family have reached you already? They’re true. Father, Madam Zhang, my half-siblings—all dead. Only Zhang Wei remains as the new lord, with Mother serving as regent.”

Master Qingfeng’s fingers tightened around his teacup. “Your benefactor’s work as well?”

“No.” Xiulan traced the rim of her cup. “Though I doubt his guidance will continue. My cultivation success came from making two Golden Meridian Opening Pills with those ingredients, not from any advice.” She glanced up. “That’s part of my current dilemma.”

Qingfeng’s eyebrows shot upward. “Your master created two golden pills without failure from those supplies?” He shook his head in amazement. “That explains your meridians’ condition—opening them that way without guidance would produce such results. I am surprised he abandoned you after that effort.”

“I have no master.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “I made the pills myself, in a single batch.”

The teacup froze halfway to Qingfeng’s mouth. Though he recovered quickly, the momentary shock blazed across his features. “You made them? Both pills in one batch?” He set his cup back down with careful precision. “Are you perhaps a hidden alchemy genius?”

Xiulan sipped her tea, memories from her gaming days flooding back. The cultivation recipes she knew could prove invaluable. They aren’t just limited to one school or sect. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

The basic formulas required minimal equipment, though the advanced ones needed specialized pill furnaces and complex procedures she wasn’t ready to attempt.

“The process for lower-level items proved straightforward enough.” Xiulan explained. “I merely got lucky.”

Master Qingfeng tested the word “straightforward” on his tongue like a suspicious wine. He lifted his cup for another measured sip. “Perhaps you’d consider selling the other golden pill? Such an item would fetch quite the fortune.”

“Hah...” Xiulan shook her head. “That’s impossible. I’ve already used it, which leads to why I need your help.”

“This isn’t what I expected.” Qingfeng straightened. “I assumed you sought aid regarding your family’s situation.” He studied her face intently. “At first, I theorized your benefactor orchestrated everything, either to help you escape or to control House Lin through you.”

The silence stretched taut between them. Qingfeng leaned forward. “But I must ask—did you kill them? That particular rumor circulated briefly before drowning under a suspicious flood of alternate stories.” His eyes narrowed. “Rather telling how certain House Lin members fought so vigorously to promote specific versions, wouldn’t you say?”

The teacup trembled in Xiulan’s grip. She set it down before the liquid could spill, considering her next words carefully. A slight nod preceded her whispered admission.

“I was forced to act.”

Master Qingfeng’s brow furrowed deep. “Young lady, the karma and outrage of your ancestors will follow you for life.”

The words struck like sparks against tinder.

Xiulan’s hands clenched into fists. “Save your reprimands for my father!”

Heat blazed through her meridians. “He forced me into this corner after breaking his word to spare my friend! He had me whipped, and then—” The words caught in her throat. “If he hadn’t been such a weak...” She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to continue.

Qi surged through her body like storm waves crashing against rocks. The room spun as spiritual energy raged unchecked through her meridians, threatening to tear her apart from within.

Master Qingfeng’s fingers danced through the air in precise patterns. Two invisible forces pressed against Xiulan’s chest, and the chaotic energy inside smoothed into a steady flow. She slumped forward, drawing in deep breaths as the emotional tempest subsided.

Cold realization trickled down her spine. He controlled my qi without touching me.

The casual display of power revealed depths she hadn’t suspected. Unlike Ren Chun’s obvious cultivation presence, she detected nothing from Qingfeng—a mastery suggesting cultivation at least two or three stages above her own.

“The scars run deep and fresh.” Qingfeng’s words cut through her thoughts.

Xiulan bowed her head. “Yes.” The admission tasted bitter on her tongue.

“I notice your young maid isn’t with you this time.” Master Qingfeng’s eyes narrowed.

Xiulan’s fingers curled around a freshly poured cup. “That’s why I need your help.” The porcelain burned against her skin, grounding her. “After Father handed Mei Chen to my stepmother for torture, I tried everything. Regular medicine failed.”

She swallowed hard. “I gave her the Meridian Opening Pill in desperation.” The memory of that moment twisted inside her chest. “Her heart stopped beating soon after, but she still broke through to Body Refinement. Now qi flows through her meridians, and she breathes, but...” Xiulan stared into her tea. “Her heart remains silent. She won’t wake up.”

Master Qingfeng lifted his cup with practiced grace. “Are there other signs?”

“The air around her grows cold over time,” Xiulan admitted. “When I infuse her body with my qi, the chill recedes, but it always returns.”

“You infuse qi?” Qingfeng’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s an advanced technique for someone barely starting Body Refinement.”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck, and she shook her head. “I just hold her hand and focus on letting my qi flow there.” She flexed her fingers, remembering the sensation. “It transfers on its own.”

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard in slow, methodical movements.

Xiulan’s stomach churned. Fear coiled tight in her chest. She hadn’t meant to spill everything so directly. It felt like she was sitting naked before Master Qingfeng, exposed and vulnerable. He held her life—and Mei Chen’s—in his hands, able to twist their fates with a single decision.

She was just a leaf trying to stay afloat on an angry stream winding down the mountain.

Master Qingfeng leaned back, eyes narrowing. “You need guidance on many things.”

Xiulan bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching the floor. “Please, Master Qingfeng, I ask for your guidance and aid.”

He studied her for a moment, then sighed. “With rumors spreading so quickly, young cultivators will flock to this region. Rogue cultivators are rare, and subduing one brings great face. It’s also a chance to test their martial arts.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “You must begin to distance yourself immediately. Though I suspect you need to remain close to help your family adjust for now, if possible, I’d send you away to another province entirely. The truth will surely get out in time.”

Xiulan straightened, the enormity of his advice pressing down on her. “I understand.” The words felt heavy on her tongue.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Leaving isn’t an option right now,” she admitted. “My stepmother’s family will hold a grudge for the deaths. They’ll likely retaliate. They have connections to the Whispering Shadows Sect.”

Master Qingfeng’s eyes darkened. “That complicates matters.”

“Indeed.” Xiulan nodded. “I need to stay and ensure my mother and brother are secure. Once things settle, I’ll work on avoiding mortal entanglements and politics.”

Qingfeng tapped the table with a thoughtful rhythm. “Your reasoning is sound, but be cautious. The longer you stay, the deeper you will sink. A young cultivator is a chess piece to some.”

She froze for a second before finishing her sip of tea. Had he somehow noticed her interaction with Ren Chun? There was no way…

Xiulan sighed. “I must strengthen them so they don’t need to lean on me.”

Qingfeng’s fingers stilled. “And your maid’s situation? It’s troubling. I’ll need to inspect her myself. Do you intend to owe the Treasure Pavilion another favor, or do you have the funds to hire a master’s time?”

Xiulan’s heart sank. She glanced at the delicate porcelain cup, then back at Qingfeng. “I...”

The words caught in her throat.

Xiulan released a slow breath. The weight of owing one favor to the Treasure Pavilion already pressed down on her shoulders like a mountain. Such debts carried more weight than mere money—they demanded absolute compliance when called in. The only ways out led through death or complete dishonor.

Honor. The word tasted different now than it had in her past life. She didn’t worship at its altar like Ren Chun and his obsession with justice, but...

Xiulan bowed deeply, her forehead almost pressing against the table. “Please offer this young leaf some job for Treasure Pavilion that is suitable to her status and can pay for Master Qingfeng’s benevolence in this matter.”

Master Qingfeng tapped his fingers against the table in a slow rhythm. “I may have something in mind.”

She maintained her bow. Incense smoke curled through the air, carrying hints of sandalwood and jasmine.

“You could create another Golden Meridian Opening Pill.” Master Qingfeng’s words cut through the silence. “Such an item would hold significant value.” He sighed. “However, I cannot procure the ingredients this time. Your previous purchase drove regional prices to astronomical levels.” The tapping stopped. “Five million taels for a complete set.”

Xiulan let out a breath and sat up. From fifty thousand to five million. That made some sense. It wasn’t like ingredients were super common, and such a bulk purchase would indeed drive the price up.

It’d be like that for just about anything that couldn’t be farmed in a spiritual garden and required harvesting from the wild.

“So you want me to collect blood lotus, thunder root, and dawn serpent scales and make a golden pill for you?” Xiulan asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling beneath. “And in return, you’ll inspect Mei Chen and do your best to help her condition?”

Master Qingfeng’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Indeed. Such a task is intriguing enough for me to agree.”

Xiulan bowed her head again. “I would be very grateful.”

“Very well, it will be done,” Qingfeng said. “Now that the deal is struck, we will spend the rest of the day training and discussing the specifics.”

Xiulan blinked. “What?”

Qingfeng chuckled. “Do you think you could collect the items in your current state? Do you even know where they might be found? And you lack even the most basic qi control and martial arts.”

Xiulan’s mind raced. He could see all that?

She saluted, hand on palm. “Teacher, please enlighten this unlearned one so she can succeed.”

Master Qingfeng stood, his robes flowing like water around him. “Tomorrow I will visit young Mei Chen, but first, we must address your conditioning. Without a firm foundation, no amount of qi or strength will sustain you in the wild.”

Xiulan followed him to an open courtyard behind the pavilion. The space was serene, bordered by meticulously pruned bonsai trees and a small koi pond reflecting the afternoon sun.

“We begin with the horse stance,” Qingfeng instructed, demonstrating the position.

Xiulan mimicked his stance, legs spread wide and knees bent as if sitting on an invisible horse. Her thighs burned almost immediately.

“Hold,” Qingfeng commanded, circling her like a hawk. “This stance builds strength and stability—essential for any martial artist.”

Minutes felt like hours as Xiulan’s muscles screamed in protest. Sweat trickled down her face, but she held firm.

Was… was he doing something to her with qi? If she had not reached the Body Refinement stage, she would have been crushed.

“Good,” Qingfeng said finally. “Now, basic punches.”

He demonstrated a series of fluid movements, each punch precise and controlled. Xiulan mirrored him, her strikes lacking the same grace but filled with determination.

“Focus on your breathing,” Qingfeng advised. “Inhale as you draw back, exhale as you strike.”

Xiulan adjusted her rhythm, feeling a slight improvement in her form.

After an hour of rigorous training, Qingfeng called for a break. Xiulan collapsed onto a nearby bench, gulping water from a bamboo flask.

“Your endurance needs work,” Qingfeng noted, sitting beside her. “But you have potential.”

Xiulan nodded, too exhausted to speak.

“Next, we discuss the locations of these ingredients,” Qingfeng continued. “blood lotus grows in the swamps of Blackmere. Thunder root can be found in the Storm Peaks, and dawn serpent scales are harvested from the serpents in the Dawn Forest.”

Xiulan’s heart sank at the thought of traversing such dangerous terrains. More importantly, other than blood lotus, those places sounded like they were far away. But she steeled herself. Mei Chen’s life depended on it.

“Prepare yourself mentally and physically,” Qingfeng said, standing up. “This journey will test every aspect of your being.”

Xiulan rose to her feet, determination burning in her eyes.

“I will not fail.”

Wraith’s Breath

When qi flows between two beings, trust must flow first. The spirit knows friend from foe, even when consciousness sleeps. This is why the greatest healers must first heal themselves of doubt.
—Sage Master Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

Xiulan shifted her weight from foot to foot at the city manor’s main gate. Workers bustled past with carts piled high with lacquered furniture and ornate vases. The newly repaired postern gate gleamed with fresh paint and polished metal fixtures.

A twinge of satisfaction eased through her chest at the sight of the manor’s luxuries being carted away. Collecting the three-hundred seventy-five thousand taels to pay the prorated refund for the return of the Lin guard from the city garrison had not been simple.

But selling off excess furnishings—particularly from the now-empty family chambers—had covered the cost. Let the gossips wag their tongues; dead people had no use for silk cushions and jade screens.

The morning sun climbed higher as she scanned the street for Master Qingfeng’s approach.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Xiulan spun around. Master Qingfeng stood behind her, immaculate in his dark blue robes despite having apparently scaled the manor wall. Not a single footstep had betrayed his approach.

“Master Qingfeng.” Xiulan dropped into a formal bow. “Welcome to the Lin city manor.”

“Miss Lin.” Master Qingfeng inclined his head. “How fares your young friend?”

Xiulan let out a tense breath. “Mei Chen remains stable. The qi transfers seem to sustain her, though she hasn’t shown signs of waking.”

“Very well. I am ready to see the patient.” Master Qingfeng’s words carried a clinical precision.

Xiulan nodded. “Please follow me.” She led him across the sun-warmed courtyard stones and through the main residence. Servants paused in their duties to bow as they passed.

The wooden stairs creaked under their feet as they climbed to the second floor. Two guards flanked Mei Chen’s door, stepping aside with crisp bows.

“There’s a slight chill,” Xiulan warned.

A wave of cold air rushed out as she slid the door open. Xiulan stepped inside and turned—Master Qingfeng remained frozen at the threshold, staring at Mei Chen’s still form on the bed.

“Master Qingfeng?”

He stepped into the room. “Everything is exactly as you described.”

The implied doubt in his tone pricked at Xiulan’s pride. She closed the door with a soft click.

Master Qingfeng approached the bed and wrapped his fingers around Mei Chen’s wrist. The steady focus of his examination made Xiulan’s hands clench and unclench at her sides.

He lifted his palm to hover before Mei Chen’s face, keeping it steady as seconds stretched into a full minute.

Master Qingfeng straightened from his examination. “Have you kept records of your qi transfer timing?”

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s face. “I—no.” The admission stung. How could I be so careless? Back in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, she’d filled notebooks analyzing combat patterns and quest triggers. “I should have documented everything.”

“Miss Lin.” Master Qingfeng stepped back from the bed. “Your friend’s condition is grave.” He shook his head. “I am not sure she can be saved.”

The room spun. Xiulan gripped the bedpost as memories crashed through her: Mei Chen’s broken body, the Meridian Opening Pill, that first spark of hope after everything had turned to ash. Air refused to fill her lungs.

“Please.” The word scratched past her throat. “Tell me what you know.”

“Mei Chen is dead.”

Xiulan’s fingernails bit into her palms. “But—”

“Let me finish.” Master Qingfeng raised a hand. “Though her physical form has expired, her spirit remains tethered to her corpse.”

“In cultivation circles, we call these wrathful spirits.” Master Qingfeng’s voice hardened. “They must be eliminated. Left unchecked, they prey upon both mortals and cultivators alike.”

“Wait—” Xiulan’s voice cracked with desperation.

Master Qingfeng shook his head and gestured to Mei Chen. “Was this her state when she died?”

Xiulan blinked, confusion mixing with fear. “Do you mean wounds? Those healed along with the rejection of impurities.”

Qingfeng nodded, his eyes narrowing in thought. “That is not normal. Wrathful spirits often form from tragic and gruesome deaths. They maintain that visage. Yet, Mei Chen’s body is restored to a perfect state. Her qi is very active.”

Xiulan’s gaze drifted to Mei Chen’s serene face. Worry gnawed at her insides. What does this mean for her?

Qingfeng stroked his beard, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “The Golden Meridian Opening Pill is truly remarkable. It works even if a person passes away during its activation.”

Xiulan moved closer to the bed and took Mei Chen’s cold hand. The chill seeped into her skin, a stark reminder of the unnatural state her friend was in.

“Normally,” Qingfeng continued, “the yin surrounding her corpse would become so concentrated that she would evolve into a wrathful spirit, wreaking havoc and devouring everything she touched. However, there is only a slight imbalance in the room and around her.”

Frost forming on the walls when unattended to for more than a day was only slight? She didn’t want to consider what facing an actual wrathful spirit would be like, then.

Qingfeng’s gaze met Xiulan’s. “Your qi transfers have been crucial. By feeding her yang energy, you’ve countered the yin that would otherwise transform her.”

Xiulan’s heart pounded. “So, I have to keep donating my qi, or she’ll turn into a monster? Is there no way to reverse this?”

Qingfeng considered her question. His expression turned grave. “Reversing death is beyond mortal means. Only a spiritual deity could easily reverse such a state. But they dwell so high in the heavens that meeting one is nearly impossible. Just the encounter would likely strip you bare of your bark.”

Xiulan clenched her fists, frustration boiling inside her. “But there’s hope, right?”

Qingfeng nodded slowly. “Indeed. The type of qi transfer you are performing requires consent. She must trust you deeply to allow your qi to flow through her spirit freely. This is a natural defense that all cultivators possess. It is not easy to press one’s qi through another’s soul forcibly.”

Xiulan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Watch,” Qingfeng said, taking Mei Chen’s hand. He closed his eyes, and Xiulan felt a faint pulse of energy.

Instead of Qingfeng’s qi merging with Mei Chen, the energy floated around her like oil on water. A few sparkles of it mixed in regardless, but they were devoured quickly by Mei Chen’s aura.

Qingfeng opened his eyes. “See? It might be subconscious, but she must trust you a great deal to accept your qi. This cannot be accidental; it requires purposeful acceptance. Thus, she retains her mind to some unknown degree.”

Xiulan’s eyes widened. “So she’s not just a wrathful spirit?”

“No,” Qingfeng said, shaking his head. “I’ve never encountered a state like hers. It makes her condition exceedingly rare.”

Xiulan’s stomach twisted. Rare conditions meant scarce solutions and even scarcer knowledge. The weight of Mei Chen’s fate pressed down on her shoulders like a mountain of stone.

“I will begin researching immediately,” Master Qingfeng said. “Though I must be discrete in consulting other masters. This room...” He gestured at the stark walls and furnishings. “The environment is inadequate for her current state.”

“What do you suggest?” Xiulan squeezed Mei Chen’s hand gently.

“The Treasure Pavilion contains specially crafted chambers resonating with pure yang energy—the item forge comes to mind.” Master Qingfeng traced a finger along the bedpost, frost melting beneath his touch. “Such an environment would significantly slow the accumulation of yin energy. The time between qi transfers would extend significantly without risk.”

The thought of moving Mei Chen sparked anxiety in Xiulan’s chest. “And if something goes wrong? If I can’t continue the qi transfers for some reason?”

“The pavilion maintains powerful protective arrays.” Master Qingfeng’s steady gaze met hers. “Should the worst occur, no innocent lives would be endangered.”

A sharp pain stabbed through Xiulan’s chest. She released a shaky breath and nodded, acknowledging the brutal practicality of his suggestion.

Xiulan brushed a strand of hair from Mei Chen’s cold forehead. “She would not want to hurt anyone. Even now—” She swallowed hard. “Even like this.”

“No doubt that’s part of her current state.” Master Qingfeng stepped closer to the bed. “Her kind nature wages war against the pain and suffering of those final moments.”

The memory slammed into Xiulan with brutal force. Blood had soaked through Mei Chen’s robes as she struggled for breath. Each desperate gurgle echoed in Xiulan’s mind—how she’d tried to keep her breathing...

Xiulan blinked back tears and bowed deeply to Master Qingfeng. “Thank you for your guidance and assistance.”

“I will handle preserving her state.” Master Qingfeng’s stern expression softened. “But you must maintain focus if you hope to create another Golden Meridian Opening Pill.”

“You’re right.” Xiulan stared at her hands. “I’ve been... off-balance. Wavering since—” The words stuck in her throat.

Since the night she’d killed her family.

“Deep scars leave permanent marks as evidence.” Master Qingfeng stated. “But picking at the scab only makes it worse. Maintain your flow rather than beating yourself on the rocks.”

Xiulan squared her shoulders and met his steady gaze.

“I think I understand.”

Xiulan adjusted the leather straps on her horse’s pack, double-checking the distribution of travel rations. The bag needed to remain spacious enough to transport the Blood Lotus without crushing them. She patted the horse’s flank, earning a soft snort.

“Halt! State your name!” A guard’s sharp command echoed from the gate.

“How could you not recognize the famous Ren Chun?” The booming response made Xiulan roll her eyes. “I’m a guest of the lady of the manor. Let me through!”

Famous? Guest? Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. Such proclamations would spark rumors throughout the entire county by nightfall.

She grabbed the reins of her two prepared horses and strode toward the gate. “Leave the guard alone. We’re departing immediately.”

Ren Chun’s mouth dropped open. “Without sharing tea first? Surely we should discuss—”

“No time.” Xiulan thrust the spare reins of the second horse into his hands. “Try to keep up.”

“But...” Ren Chun stumbled back a step. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Blackmere Swamp.”

The crowd parted before them as Xiulan led her horse through the city streets. Morning merchants pulled their carts aside, and children scampered between stalls to clear the path.

“Surely you mean the villages near the swamp?” Ren Chun’s boots scuffed against the cobblestones. “Not the actual swamp itself? That place crawls with all manner of beasts!”

Xiulan glanced sideways at him. “Don’t tell me the ‘great’ Ren Chun fears a few creatures? This mission will repay one of your favors, after all.”

“Ha! Fear? I am Ren Chun!” He puffed out his chest.

Xiulan bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. The market square opened up, the sun glinting off the central fountain’s spray.

Ren Chun darted forward, leaving her to catch the rein of his horse. In three bounds, he scaled the fountain’s edge and thrust his fist skyward.

“Listen, good people! I, the heroic Ren Chun, embark on a perilous mission to aid fairy Lin Xiu—”

Xiulan yanked his ankle hard. Ren Chun tumbled backward with a spectacular splash into the fountain basin. She glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh!” Water dripped from his hair as he stumbled to his feet. “Was this meant to be a secret mission?” His eyes widened. “But... the fame...”

“Idiot!” Xiulan grabbed his collar. “The mission isn’t secret, but I’m not advertising my movements or status as a cultivator. There are already too many rumors circulating!”

She shoved the reins back into Ren Chun’s hands. “And don’t abandon your horse! You need to care for her properly.”

What have I gotten myself into? A knot formed in her stomach. Are all cultivators this... theatrical?

Qingfeng fit her idea of a wise cultivator, but this guy… he reminded her of a monkey!

“Why do we even need horses?” Ren Chun bounced on his heels. “If we sprint, we could reach the swamp much faster!”

“Some of us lack the endurance for such feats.” Xiulan adjusted her pack. “We’ll ride to the edge village first, then continue on foot. Two days should suffice.” Better to rush than endure three days of this nonsense.

“I could carry you in my arms for half the journey!” Ren Chun stretched out his arms demonstratively.

Xiulan gripped her spear tighter, fighting the urge to whack him. One day of training with Master Qingfeng couldn’t match years of whatever instruction this fool had received.

He’ll probably challenge me to—

“Do you want to spar? We could compete on the way!”

“We haven’t even left the city gates.” Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Ah, true.” Ren Chun scratched his head. “It might disturb the people. Later, perhaps?”

The immediate “no” died on Xiulan’s tongue; her current skills wouldn’t suffice for what lay ahead.

And when will I get another chance to safely train with a more experienced cultivator?

“Sure.” Xiulan mounted her horse. “After we make camp for the night.”

Muddy Rain

The most profound discoveries often come not from learning new techniques but from seeing familiar ones in an entirely new light. True mastery begins when we cease to imitate and start to innovate.
—Sage Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

Xiulan’s temple throbbed with phantom pain as memories of last night’s duel flickered through her mind. The clash of metal against metal echoed in her thoughts—her spear meeting Ren Chun’s sword in four solid blocks.

Pride had swelled at how she’d maintained her stance, matching his strength. A fear she had silently held was that she’d be physically weaker than other cultivators, which would have made her future path bleak.

Still, she had managed it. His blows were heavier than any of those she had fought except for Master Qingfeng.

But not unsurmountable.

The remembered sensation of executing perfect thrusts brought a slight smile. Her spear had darted forward in quick succession, forcing him to dodge aside.

But then everything changed. Ren Chun slipped past her defenses like water through cupped hands. The world blurred into a storm of strikes, the flat of his blade cracking against her temple as his fist connected with her cheek. Though her cultivation had healed the wounds by morning, the memory stung sharper than the actual hits.

Hoofbeats approached from her left. Ren Chun guided his mount alongside hers on the dusty road.

“Fairy—Miss Lin, why won’t you talk to me? Surely you’re not still holding a grudge for losing, are you?”

Xiulan clicked her tongue. “What kind of idiot goes all out right away? You almost took my head off!”

“But I didn’t know Miss Lin was a novice!” Ren Chun spread his hands wide. “Besides, after that, I did go easy. I even did my best to help you train!”

Xiulan scoffed, and then her hands tightened on the reins. “Then why did you smack my ass on every exchange after that? Did you forget we needed to ride to the village today?”

Ren Chun’s mouth dropped open. “Such a crude word from a pretty fairy!”

Pretty? This idiot wanted her to hit him. She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, spurring it forward.

“Wait up!” Hoofbeats thundered behind as Ren Chun caught up.

Eventually, they slowed to a trot. He pulled back alongside and looked at her with a stupid grin. “About those favors—maybe we could call it even at one more? Those forty soldiers would have been more of a challenge for you than I thought.”

“I could have handled them easily.” Xiulan clenched her jaw. “I’ve dealt with more on my own before.”

“When did you—”

Xiulan thrust out her hand. “Shush. Look ahead.”

A wagon tilted at an awkward angle where the marshy ground had swallowed one side of the vehicle. The horses shifted restlessly in their traces while several figures struggled against the mired wheels.

“Just some mortals.” Ren Chun shrugged. “Path’s clear enough to pass.”

The travelers’ forms grew clearer as they approached—four men straining against the wagon’s weight, their clothes already splattered with mud from their efforts.

Xiulan pulled her horse’s reins, bringing it to a stop beside the tilted wagon. The marsh’s pungent odor of rotting vegetation and stagnant water filled the air.

“Aren’t you going to help?” She turned to Ren Chun, who sat atop his mount with a bemused expression.

The men lined up in front of their wagon and dropped to their knees.

Their leader pressed his mud-caked forehead to the ground and said, “My deepest apologies for blocking your path, noble ones. We wouldn’t dare expect you to soil yourselves for such lowly merchants.”

“See? We can keep going.” Ren Chun adjusted his sword belt.

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were all about justice?”

Ren Chun shook his head. “What justice? The cart fell into the mud—it wasn’t bandits. This might even be heaven’s will, restoring karma!”

“Blind justice proves more evil than blatant atrocity.” Xiulan swung down from her saddle. “At least one has the decency to be upfront about itself.”

The merchants scrambled backward as she approached. “Please, my lady! Don’t soil yourself for our sake!”

Xiulan ignored their protests and waded through the muck, thick mud sucking at her boots as she positioned herself beside the wagon.

She sank into a horse stance, channeling qi through her meridians just as Qingfeng had taught her. Power surged through her muscles as she gripped the wagon’s frame and heaved upward. The cart lifted free with minimal effort, settling back onto solid ground with a wet squelch.

The merchants prostrated themselves, faces pressed to the earth. “Thank you, fairy!”

“Be more careful staying on the road.” Xiulan wrung the sodden hem of her martial outfit.

“Now your dress is filthy.” Ren Chun wrinkled his nose as she remounted. “You don’t look like a fairy at all.”

“We’re going into a fucking swamp.” Xiulan adjusted her reins. “If we both aren’t covered head to toe in mud by the time we’re done, I’ll be shocked.”

The swamp village emerged from the mist one building at a time. Weathered wooden structures perched on stilts rose above the murky water, connected by rickety boardwalks. Xiulan scanned the shoreline for any sign of stables—they’d need somewhere dry to leave the horses before venturing deeper into the marsh.

Ren Chun broke the silence. “You could spend that second favor on something useful, you know. I could teach you Water Stepping Foot qinggong.”

Xiulan raised an eyebrow.

“Look, watching you get covered in swamp muck would be entertaining, but it won’t help us find the blood lotus.” Ren Chun gestured at the brackish water below the boardwalks. “Otherwise, only one of us ends up filthy.”

“You think you can teach me qinggong that quickly?” Xiulan turned in her saddle to study him.

“Well...” Ren Chun scratched his chin. “I’ve opened three meridians myself, but the qi rolling off you is something else. It should be simple enough.”

“I’ve opened all my meridians,” Xiulan said with a hint of pride. “My Ren Mai, Du Mai, and Chong Mai are clear of blockages, too.”

Ren Chun’s mount skittered sideways as he jerked the reins. “You unlocked all five major meridians?”

Xiulan shook her head. “No, I mean all of them. Major and minor.”

Ren Chun blinked rapidly, mouth working silently before breaking into a wide grin. “Hah... I understand now. Fairy Lin is an idiot savant! Absolutely unparalleled in meridian opening and absolutely useless at martial arts!”

“What?” The word slipped from Xiulan’s lips as heat crept up her neck.

Ren Chun’s laughter echoed across the marsh, startling a flock of birds from nearby reeds.

Xiulan pulled her horse to a stop, scanning the stilted buildings of the village before turning back to Ren Chun. “Teach me the Water Stepping Foot now. But it won’t count as a favor.”

“What!?” Ren Chun straightened in his saddle. “Passing on a technique is definitely a favor!”

“You could have helped with the wagon.” Xiulan crossed her arms. “Or taught me qinggong before we came to a swamp. You knew where we were heading.”

Ren Chun peered at her through narrowed eyes, unconvinced.

“And I won’t hold a grudge for yesterday’s sparring session.”

A snort escaped Ren Chun as he stifled another laugh. “Fine. Free lesson this time.”

Ren Chun gave Xiulan a dirty look as he glanced back over his shoulder, then pressed forward into the swamp. Both of them were covered in partially cleaned mud from head to toe as they walked on top of the soggy mess with Water Stepping Foot.

Learning the technique hadn’t been hard.

Ren Chun had demonstrated, then explained how she should expand her qi through the meridians in her feet to provide a wide surface to step on without breaking the water.

Her second and third attempts had worked flawlessly.

It was the first one that had detonated a small crater underneath her and vomited a ton of swamp goop on both of them that had been the problem.

The stables in the village had been kind enough to give them cloth to wipe down with and clean up the best they could, along with housing for her horses, but she wasn’t sure if their clothing would ever be recoverable. She’d sort of expected that. Maybe she’d buy poor Ren Chun a new outfit from one of Blackmere City’s better tailors.

She almost felt bad for manipulating him. A little.

Though, he sort of deserved it.

But she didn’t think he was entirely a bad person. Just…

Her first impression was right. He was very focused. But there was a little more there than she thought.

Ren Chun suddenly stopped as a thick fog bank billowed from the ground. “We’re entering the wilds now. Be on guard.”

Xiulan nodded, her senses sharpening. “The blood lotus will be deep.”

“Exactly.” Ren Chun’s voice held a note of caution. They both readied their weapons, and Xiulan followed at a closer distance.

The fog thickened around them. After a few minutes, it cleared to reveal twisted trees and dark water stretching endlessly in every direction. The qi density pressed against Xiulan’s skin, making her meridians tingle with an unfamiliar sensation.

“This feels strange.” Xiulan rubbed her arms.

Ren Chun turned to face her. “Wait— is this your first time in the wilds?” He shook his head. “Of course it is. With your martial arts skills, you’d never have survived out here before.”

Xiulan shot him an icy glare. “Just keep an eye out for our objective.”

“A ways for us to go still.” Ren Chun stepped carefully across the water’s surface.

They continued through the eerie landscape until Ren Chun stopped abruptly and said, “Ready your weapon.”

Xiulan scanned the murky waters but saw nothing beyond the rippling surface. Suddenly, a deafening roar shattered the silence as a massive scaled form erupted from beneath them, jaws wide and teeth gleaming. Xiulan’s muscles locked—too fast, too close.

Ren Chun’s sword flashed in an arc, splitting the creature’s head before it reached her. The beast burst into dark smoke with a thunderous crack. Qi surged through the air as a small crystalline object plummeted toward the water. Ren Chun snatched it mid-fall.

Xiulan’s eyes widened at the familiar glint: a spirit stone.

A second scaled form burst from the murky depths. Xiulan thrust her spear forward, but the weapon skidded off hardened scales with a metallic screech.

She darted backward, qi wavering beneath her feet. The water’s surface rippled dangerously as her Water Step technique faltered.

The beast’s massive jaws gaped wide, rows of yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light. Xiulan’s heart hammered against her ribs as death approached—

Ren Chun’s blade plunged through the creature’s skull. The monster exploded into dark smoke with a thunderous crack, leaving behind another glittering spirit stone.

“Is that all of them?” Xiulan steadied her breathing, scanning the murky waters.

“For now.” Ren Chun studied the two spirit stones in his palm. “You know, I planned to split these fifty-fifty, but considering your martial arts...” He clicked his tongue. “Well, they’re so lacking, it doesn’t seem right. I should keep them all.”

Xiulan narrowed her eyes. The spirit stones glowed with tempting power, but she hadn’t ventured into this dangerous swamp for them. And her poor display against the beast left her with little room to argue.

“Fine. Keep all the spirit stones from the beasts we fight. But I claim any blood lotus or spiritual plants we find.”

Ren Chun pocketed both stones with a satisfied shrug. “Deal.”

The qi grew denser as they pressed deeper into the swamp. Xiulan focused on the sensation, noting how Ren Chun adjusted their path based on the energy’s thickness. The technique made perfect sense—like following an invisible gradient into the swamp’s heart.

A splash of crimson pierced through the fog. A massive tree with blood-red leaves materialized, its branches twisting toward the sky like grasping fingers.

“Spiritual tree.” Ren Chun gripped his sword. “There’ll be a guardian. Stay back—I’ll handle it.”

“Ready.” Xiulan tightened her grip on her spear.

A dark shape descended from the canopy. Xiulan’s breath caught in her throat as recognition hit. The creature hovered above them: a mosquito the size of a horse. Its proboscis gleamed like a sword in the dim light.

No. Not mosquitos. Anything but mosquitos.

Ren Chun raised his blade, but the massive insect burst apart. Millions of tiny bodies filled the air, their collective buzz drowning out all other sounds. The swarm rushed toward them in a black wave.

Too many. He can’t possibly—

She yanked Ren Chun’s sash, pulling him backward. Qi surged through her meridians as she channeled everything into her right foot. The Water Stepping Foot technique detonated with explosive force as her foot struck the swamp’s surface.

A wall of water erupted around them. The liquid mass slammed into the mosquito swarm with devastating impact. Thunder cracked across the sky as water met insects, echoing through the swamp.

Qi flooded back into Xiulan’s depleted meridians from her dantian, making her limbs tingle with renewed energy. Each heartbeat pounded in her ears like a war drum.

Ren Chun’s jaw dropped. He stared at her wide-eyed, his sword forgotten at his side.

“I didn’t think you knew any techniques.” Ren Chun blinked rapidly, still staring at the aftermath of her explosion.

Xiulan smirked despite the exhaustion weighing on her limbs. “Water Step.”

“That was Water Step?” Ren Chun’s eyes widened.

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “Didn’t you recognize it? You taught me earlier today.”

“Lin Xiulan’s Water Stepping Foot is ferocious.” Ren Chun shook his head in disbelief.

The qi rippled around the blood-red spirit tree, drawing Xiulan’s attention back to her goal. She scanned the area where the mosquito swarm had dispersed. “There’s no spirit stone?”

“Because you didn’t defeat the guardian—just stopped its dirty trick.” Ren Chun pointed toward the tree’s canopy.

Xiulan focused her senses. The familiar buzz of wings filtered through the fog, setting her teeth on edge. The sound grew louder.

Ren Chun dropped into a fighting stance and gripped his blade. He sprinted forward across the water’s surface, each step creating perfect concentric ripples. Xiulan followed, keeping her spear positioned for a quick thrust.

The massive mosquito swooped from behind the spirit tree’s trunk. Ren Chun leaped skyward, his blade flashing in a precise arc. The creature’s wing separated with a wet snap. As it plummeted, Ren Chun drove his sword through its thorax. The entire exchange lasted mere seconds.

The mosquito’s corpse burst into dark smoke, leaving behind two gleaming spirit stones.

“Well, that was anti-climactic.” Xiulan lowered her spear.

Ren Chun nodded and collected the stones. He studied them for a moment before extending one toward her. “You did help.”

Xiulan shook her head. “A deal is a deal.”

“Hah, well, don’t be disappointed in your deal.” Ren Chun glanced up at the spirit tree’s branches. “There aren’t any fruits, so it doesn’t look like you have any luck.”

Bloody Spray

In the depths of nature's heart, we find that every creature, every plant holds its own wisdom. The greatest masters are not those who conquer through force, but those who understand the delicate balance of life and death, of giving and taking. A drop of blood freely given holds more power than an ocean taken by force.
—Sage Master Yu Ling, Speaker to the Wild

Xiulan thrust her spear through another serpentine creature. The spiritual beast—a two-headed water snake—thrashed before dissolving into mist. Its spirit stone clinked against the others in Ren Chun’s pouch.

“That’s the fourth one today.” Xiulan wiped the sweat from her brow.

A rustle in the reeds drew her attention before Ren Chun could respond. A pack of marsh wolves emerged, their bodies translucent like living water.

Xiulan spun her spear in a defensive arc as three bounded toward her. Her spear tip pierced through the first wolf’s chest. It burst into droplets before reforming, only to meet Xiulan’s follow-up strike. The second and third wolves fell just as quickly to precise thrusts.

Ren Chun dispatched two more with casual sword swings. “These beasts grow weaker the deeper we go.”

A screech echoed across the water. A crane-like creature swooped down, its wingspan twice Xiulan’s height, beak sparking with spiritual lightning. Xiulan ducked under its attack and drove her spear upward, catching it mid-flight. The beast crashed into the swamp with a thunderous splash.

“Watch out!” Ren Chun’s warning came just as a scaled tail whipped toward her legs.

Xiulan leaped backward. Another crocodilian beast surfaced, its eyes glowing with malevolent qi. Unlike the others, this one posed a real danger. The creature’s jaws snapped shut where she’d stood moments before.

Ren Chun’s blade flashed. The beast roared as steel bit into its flank. Xiulan seized the opening, driving her spear through its skull. The creature thrashed once before dissolving.

Xiulan watched as Ren Chun collected the spirit stones. He had gathered at least fifty already. Her earlier choice to reject the stones she contributed to after their deal started to chafe.

“There.” Xiulan pointed toward a raised section of land through the mist. “Solid ground ahead.”

They reached it quickly. She flexed her toes in her boots at the relief of releasing Water Stepping Foot. It wasn’t truly an issue, just a discomfort. At least as long as she wasn’t expected to sleep on top of the water…

Ren Chen continued forward, scanning the swamp’s murky horizon.

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a cluster of yellow growth near his path.

“Stop,” she said, her voice firm.

Ren Chun took another step. “What?”

“Stop!” Xiulan shouted, urgency cutting through the air.

He began to turn toward her.

“Freeze! Dammit, stop moving your fucking feet.”

Ren Chun froze, confusion etched across his face. He glanced down, then back at her. “Have you lost your senses from the qi density?”

The pressure from the qi in the swamp had been building, making breathing slightly more difficult. She had been releasing a small stream of energy to keep the pressure at bay.

But that wasn’t the problem.

She approached Ren Chun cautiously, kneeling beside him. Her pack thudded softly against the ground as she set it down.

Ren Chun smirked. “I know I’m amazing, and I know you’re grateful for my help, but this isn’t the time or place to kowtow to me!”

“Shut up.” She started digging through the muck. Her fingers brushed past the delicate yellow stalks mixed with swamp grass. The wet earth yielded to her probing hands, revealing a round tuber beneath the surface.

The potato-like growth pulsed with faint spiritual energy. Xiulan’s lips curved into a smile as she extracted it carefully from the swamp soil. Of course. The swamp biome always held earth-heart roots. Any experienced player knew to gather these for reinforcement pills.

“What is that?” Ren Chun peered down at the muddy tuber in her hands.

“Earth heart root.” Xiulan moved a few paces to the right and unearthed another one. More yellow stalks dotted the ground around Ren Chun’s feet, though several lay crushed from his earlier steps. The flattened plants had already lost their spiritual glow. “The ones you stepped on are ruined.”

“Wait.” Ren Chun’s eyes widened. “Are you an alchemist? Did I just stumble into a great relationship?” He grinned. “How much are these worth?”

Xiulan’s lips curled into a savage smile. “Oh? Is the price important to you? Each root will probably fetch five to ten spirit stones at market.” A playful giggle bubbled up from her throat. “Still think you’ll get the better end of our deal?”

Ren Chun shifted from foot to foot while Xiulan dug around him, her hands moving through the muck. The earth heart roots filled half her pack before Ren Chun broke his anxious silence.

“There won’t be any room for the blood lotus!”

“The lotus can go on top.” Xiulan patted the pack. “They’re light—won’t take much space.”

The harvested patch left her pack significantly heavier, each earth heart root adding substantial weight with its dense spiritual matter. She brushed the mud from her hands and looked up at Ren Chun.

“To answer your earlier question, I know some cultivation recipes. If I feel generous when we reach Blackmere, I might make you a reinforcement pill.” She tilted her head. “Do you need earth qi? These roots excel at developing early earth affinity.”

“It’s—it’s rude to ask about someone’s affinity!” Ren Chun puffed up his chest. “Such things should be learned through observation and competition!”

Xiulan stood and raised an eyebrow.

“Hah...” Ren Chun’s shoulders slumped. “Fairy Lin is so strange, so why not? I’m mostly water-aligned, but I aim to develop water-earth qi to follow my master’s Rising Stone River sword style. My water affinity is low, but earth is non-existent, and adding to it would help immensely.” He glanced away from her. “The Four-Element pills at the Treasure Pavilion cost too many spirit stones.”

A wide grin spread across Xiulan’s face.

“Please don’t look at me like that.” Sweat beaded on Ren Chun’s forehead.

“Like what?” Xiulan hummed. “You’d better be nice to me~”

“I’m already nice to—”

A thunderous roar cut through the swamp. They spun toward the sound, weapons at the ready.

A second roar erupted from the same direction as the first. The sound vibrated across the water, sending ripples through the murky surface.

“Should we investigate?” Xiulan adjusted her grip on her spear.

Ren Chun bounced on his toes. “Something that loud must be worth challenging! Think of the spirit stones!”

Xiulan winced. The blood lotus remained their primary goal, but the opportunity for getting more things…

“Fine. Let’s check it out.”

They crept through the mist-shrouded terrain toward the source of the commotion, the ground trembling beneath their feet as they went. Through gaps in the foliage, Xiulan spotted movement: a massive shape charging through the swamp.

A spirit boar crashed through the reeds, its tusks gleaming with spiritual energy. The beast stood taller than three men, its hide crackling with power. But what caught Xiulan’s attention made her blood freeze. She grabbed Ren Chun’s shoulder.

“What?” Ren Chun whispered.

“We’re staying out of this fight.” Xiulan pulled him back a step.

“Why? That boar would make an excellent—”

“Look what it’s fighting.” Xiulan pointed to the crimson form writhing in combat with the boar. “That’s a blood lotus.”

The plant-beast towered over the boar, its petals sharp as blades and stained with previous victories. Each movement released waves of blood-red qi into the air.

Ren Chun scanned the area and pointed to a withered tree. “We can observe from there.”

They retreated silently and leaped into the dead tree’s branches, settling into position to watch the battle unfold.

The giant spirit boar charged, but the lotus retaliated, its crimson petals slicing through the air. Each impact sent shockwaves through the swamp, churning the water into a frothy mess.

Xiulan watched intently from their perch in the dead tree. The boar landed a few solid hits, but the blood lotus wrapped its thorny vines around the beast’s legs. The boar struggled, roaring in defiance, but the vines tightened, drawing blood. With a final, desperate bellow, the boar collapsed, its life force drained by the relentless thorns.

The blood lotus dragged the boar’s carcass under the murky water. Ripples spread across the surface, then slowly subsided. Silence settled over the swamp once more.

Ren Chun shifted beside her, but Xiulan placed a silent hand on his arm. They waited as minutes ticked by. The water remained still until a new blood lotus floated to the surface. Its leaves glowed vivid crimson, a stark contrast against the dark water.

“That’s what we need,” Xiulan whispered. “Not the main plant—the new one.”

Ren Chun frowned. “So we have to attract many beasts? It will be hard to fill your pack. Why can’t we use the parent?”

“The parent is useless for blood lotus petals,” Xiulan explained. “Killing it might earn some spirit stones, but for value, it’s the small, ungrown flowers we need. I have a plan to get more.”

Ren Chun’s brow furrowed. “So you’ll just need me to protect you while you harvest?”

“Exactly,” Xiulan said. “You need to keep the parent at bay while I work. Then we can escape.”

Ren Chun looked skeptical. “And not slay it?”

“If we slay it, finding more blood lotus will be harder in the future,” Xiulan said.

Ren Chun shook his head. “That’s looking so far ahead. Why do you think like that?”

Xiulan smirked. “Because I’m smart.”

Ren Chun studied her for a moment. “I’ve never met a cultivator like you before.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Xiulan said, rolling her eyes. “Because there’s only one of me.”

Xiulan leaped from the tree, landing gracefully on the water’s surface and sending ripples spreading outward beneath her feet. Ren Chun followed, his sword drawn and eyes scanning.

Xiulan drew one of her daggers, its blade glinting in the dim light. She stopped two dozen paces away from the blood lotus, feeling the weight of the moment. She hadn’t been entirely sure how she’d handle this before learning Water Stepping Foot, but...

If she could channel qi through her foot to walk on water, what stopped her from using it to manipulate the wind, too?

She visualized the flow of her qi, imagining it extending beyond her body. While she lacked formal training in wind techniques, her extensive knowledge from collecting scroll fragments in the game provided a solid foundation for what was actually possible.

She probably better understood the highest levels of various schools than their lower members.

If anyone discovered she knew about Skyward Institute’s Heaven Shattering Sword, Celestial Lotus’s Divine Judgement Array, Whispering Shadow Sect’s 28 Night Blossom Cloud, or any of the others, they’d likely torture her to find out how she knew the information.

Although, perhaps there were already rumors about those techniques...

Ren Chun cleared his throat. “Fairy Lin? You aren’t panicking, are you?”

Xiulan snapped back to the present. “Of course not,” she replied, her voice steady. “Just... strategizing.”

She raised her knife and pressed it against her left palm. The blade bit into her flesh, creating a deep gash. Blood welled up, pooling in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Ren Chun’s eyes widened in alarm.

Xiulan ignored him, focusing on the sensation of her qi flowing through her meridians. She pulsed the energy into the wound, then swung her hand outward and into her qi with a vise-like pinch.

The blood splatter exploded into hundreds of qi-infused droplets, each one shimmering with power. They rained down onto the water, glowing softly before dozens of vines emerged from the depths to claim them.

The vines rapidly retreated, pulling the droplets beneath the surface.

Xiulan repeated the process. The droplets landed again, glowing brighter this time. More vines reached up, eager to absorb the energy.

Satisfied, Xiulan wrapped her hand with a bandage, tightening it to stem the bleeding. The second batch of blood sank into the water.

Ren Chun shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Just wait,” Xiulan replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

A minute later, the water began to ripple. A carpet of blood lotus plants rose to the surface, hundreds—no, thousands—of them covering the swamp in a crimson blanket.

“I infused the blood with much more qi than that beast had,” Xiulan explained.

Ren Chun stared at the spectacle. “The blood lotus doesn’t seem like it’s going to attack?”

Xiulan laughed. “It will as soon as I start collecting petals.” She turned to Ren Chun. “Are you ready?”

Ren Chun grinned and saluted her with his sword. “Not a single vine will pass me to reach you!”

Thunder God Splits the Sky and...

The wind does not ask permission to blow, nor does lightning announce its strike. True power flows naturally from understanding, not from rigid forms and shouted names.
—Sage Chen Feng, Voice of the Four Winds

Xiulan channeled additional qi through her meridians into her feet, strengthening her Water Stepping Foot technique. The water’s surface tensed beneath her stance as she slid her pack around.

Squatting low, she plucked the first blood lotus from the crimson carpet before her, its petals gleaming with spiritual energy.

“One down,” Xiulan muttered, tucking it safely away.

The central blood lotus exploded upward in a violent spray of water and rage. A thick vine whipped through the air toward her, but Ren Chun’s blade flashed by, severing it cleanly. The two halves splashed harmlessly into the dark water.

Xiulan focused on her task, snatching lotus after lotus while keeping her stance firm on the water’s surface.

More vines lashed out in angry arcs. Steel sang as Ren Chun’s sword danced, cutting down each attack with precise strikes.

“It’s working better than I thought!” Ren Chun called out between strikes.

The abundance of blood lotus made collection swift—she barely needed to move. A sharp crack beneath the water’s surface caught her attention.

A vine erupted directly under her feet but smashed against her qi-reinforced Water Stepping Foot. It writhed and twisted around the barrier of her technique, searching for weakness.

Xiulan drew her knife in a fluid motion and sliced through the probing tendril.

“It’s going to try tricks!” Xiulan shouted.

A dozen smaller blood lotus erupted from the murky water, their crimson vines whipping through the air like angry serpents. Ren Chun leaped skyward, his blade flashing in a perfect arc as he spun. The vines targeting him fell in neat segments, splashing back into the dark swamp.

Xiulan bounded sideways as multiple vines converged on her position. Her Water Stepping Foot technique held firm as she landed, but the vines curved in pursuit.

Channeling qi through her right foot, she stomped the surface. A massive spray of pressurized water erupted outward, shredding the pursuing tendrils.

“Get it together!” Xiulan shouted at Ren Chun. “If you can’t keep them distracted, just kill the parent!”

Ren Chun pivoted toward the central blood lotus. The massive plant launched a barrage of thorns that cut through the air like arrows. He wove between them with fluid grace before landing beside one of the smaller plants. His blade struck true, and it withered instantly.

Xiulan scooped another bundle of blood lotus into her pack. A vine lashed toward the precious cargo, but she twisted away in a fluid spin.

She launched herself airborne to escape, but two hidden vines shot up from beneath the water’s surface. Fear spiked through her chest.

Acting on pure instinct, Xiulan clapped her hands together and channeled every drop of qi she could muster. The air itself seemed to explode as a vortex formed, launching her into a wild spin. As water erupted upward, the attacking vines crumpled under the pressure wave, sending the remaining lotus bobbing chaotically across the disturbed surface.

The impact as she landed shattered Xiulan’s concentration. Dark water rushed over her head as she plunged beneath the murky surface. Her qi reserves drained, she flailed for a moment before finding purchase on the thick, silty bottom. Sharp thorns pierced through her ankle as a vine coiled tight around it.

Xiulan steadied herself, gripping her pack close to protect the precious blood lotus within. The thin qi barrier around the opening barely worked to prevent the contents from being soaked.

The thorns dug deeper into her ankle, but she pushed the pain aside. Deep in her core, her dantian surged with raw power—wild and untamed like that day with Qingfeng. The qi flooded her meridians in a chaotic rush that threatened to overwhelm her.

This time, I’ll let it all out.

Xiulan released her hold on the energy. Qi poured from every meridian, seeping through her skin in crackling waves.

The surrounding water lit up as electric arcs danced outward. The vine disintegrated, its grip reduced to ash. Several blood lotuses floating nearby vaporized in the discharge, but Xiulan couldn’t contain the flow enough to spare them.

The churning energy formed a barrier at the water’s surface. Xiulan gathered her remaining focus and executed Water Stepping Foot in reverse, pushing upward through her own qi field. Her knees found purchase on the supernatural surface tension as she emerged from the swamp.

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re supposed to—” Xiulan’s shout cut short as she spotted Ren Chun at the heart of a deadly dance.

Vines whirled around him in a lethal cage. Twenty—no, thirty, then forty attacks converged from every angle. His blade flashed in an endless steel arc, barely visible as he spun to counter each strike. The parent lotus towered above, directing its spawn in a relentless assault.

Fuck the collection. Ren Chun needed backup. Now.

Xiulan yanked her spear free and launched herself toward the nearest smaller lotus. The weapon’s tip pierced clean through its center, splitting the spiritual plant in a spray of crimson essence. Without pause, she channeled qi through her legs and leaped to the next target. Her spear found its mark again, reducing another blood lotus to withering fragments.

The Water Stepping Foot technique proved far trickier for combat landings than simple traversal, though. A third leap had her skidding across the water’s surface, and she nearly plunged headfirst into her target. At the last moment, her qi flared to stabilize her stance.

“River Stone Sundering Strike!” Ren Chun’s voice boomed across the swamp.

A crescent of pure qi erupted from his blade, carving through the air with thunderous force. The energy wave tore into the parent lotus, gouging deep into its flesh. Four smaller spawn split cleanly in half, their remnants dissolving into the dark water.

Xiulan bounded toward an untouched patch of blood lotus petals, her feet barely skimming the water’s surface. The crimson blooms glowed as she snatched them up by the handful, stuffing them into her pack.

Ren Chun charged at the parent lotus while she continued to collect, his blade singing through the air as he severed vines repeatedly. The massive plant’s maw gaped wide, revealing rows of thorn-like teeth. Sharp spikes whistled through the air toward him as he dodged and weaved.

Sweat trickled down Xiulan’s neck as she gathered another armful. The pack stretched tight, nearly full. A spike whizzed past her ear, embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk with a solid thunk.

“River Stone Sundering Strike!”

The water erupted as twelve more blood lotus burst from the depths in response to the attack. Dozens of vines lashed out like angry whips, their thorny surfaces glistening in the dim light.

Time to wrap this up.

Xiulan scooped one final armful into her pack and checked the contents: the quantity exceeded her requirements. She slapped the golden seal across the opening, watching it shimmer with protective qi.

“Crossed River Stone Sundering Strike!”

Twin crescents of pure qi sliced through the air. A wall of vines intercepted the attack, sacrificing themselves to protect the parent lotus. The energy waves curved, destroying only a few younger plants.

“I have enough!” Xiulan shouted. “Get out of there!”

“Ha! Easier said than done!” Ren Chun spun through a barrage of attacks, fighting toward her position.

Xiulan secured the pack tightly to her back and gripped her spear with both hands. She spun it in a tight arc, severing two vines that snapped at her face. More vines pursued Ren Chun as he retreated, forcing him to maintain a constant whirlwind of defensive strikes.

The dark water erupted as another wave of blood lotus burst through the surface—dozens more than before. Xiulan’s stomach dropped. Maybe she had used a bit too much qi in her blood? The second spray might have been excessive.

A thorny vine whipped past her face. She ducked and spun her spear in a defensive arc, buying precious seconds to think. The natural flow of qi cycled through her meridians in an endless loop, drawing power from her dantian to refill them. Each channel had limits—both in capacity and refill speed.

Ren Chun bounded across the water’s surface toward her position. He pivoted mid-stride and swept his blade in a familiar motion.

“River Stone Sundering Strike!”

The qi crescent carved through the air, but the energy wavered and distorted; the weakened attack scattered the pursuing vines without destroying them.

Ren Chun stumbled as he landed beside her, his breathing ragged.

“My qi reserves are almost gone.” Sweat dripped from his forehead. “We won’t make it at this rate.”

Xiulan studied the dissipating remnants of his qi crescent. They shared the same cultivation level, but he executed the technique with two major meridians blocked. If he managed that with such severe limitations...

The implications clicked into place. Her fully opened meridian network should allow for far more.

Xiulan’s mind raced as she deflected another thorny vine with her spear.

The basic principles of qi manipulation flashed through her thoughts. No one needed to show her exactly how to do something—she’d already proven that with Water Stepping Foot. The technique required nothing more than precise qi control through specific meridians at calculated pressures.

A quick sidestep saved her from a barrage of thorns as she analyzed the fundamentals. Qi existed as spiritual energy—positive and negative charges flowing through the meridian network like opposing rivers. Yin and yang and all that.

The destructive potential clicked into place as she watched Ren Chun execute another strike. His qi flowed seamlessly from his meridians through the steel of his blade, transforming raw energy into a deadly crescent. The physics… or metaphysics… made perfect sense—carefully controlled release, focused direction.

You could infuse an item with your qi.

The fighting had separated them as the vines sought to push them apart.

“Get to me!” Xiulan shouted at Ren Chun while batting aside another vine. “Now!”

Xiulan reached deep within, locating her fifth meridian among the complex network flowing through her body. With precise control, she pinched it shut, blocking the natural cycle back to the first meridian. Qi instantly began to pool, pressing against the artificial dam she created. Rather than ease the pressure, she forced more power from her dantian, deliberately overfilling the channel.

Raw spiritual energy cascaded through her secondary pathways, seeking any available outlet. The power surged through her like a flash flood across open terrain. Heat built beneath her skin as the qi saturated every channel to bursting.

“Here!” Xiulan called out through gritted teeth.

Ren Chun darted across the water’s surface toward her position. Xiulan drew her dagger with her free hand, balancing its familiar weight against her spear.

One by one, her meridians reached maximum capacity. The spiritual pressure built to unprecedented levels until her entire network threatened to rupture. At the critical moment, Xiulan opened the meridians in both palms while adding a simple filter.

The weapons suddenly felt different—more like extensions of her overflowing meridians than simple steel.

Yang energy rushed into her dagger while yin poured into her spear. The sudden transfer left her dizzy. Her meridians emptied so rapidly that she swayed on her feet, momentarily light-headed from the draining sensation.

The moment she released the pinched meridian, fresh qi began cycling from her dantian to restore balance. But the weapons in her hands pulsed with barely contained power, growing more unstable by the second.

Shit. The realization hit hard—these techniques required careful practice for a good reason. The weapons were about to explode.

Ren Chun’s boots skidded across the water’s surface as his eyes widened at the unstable weapons in her hands. He backpedaled frantically, sending ripples across the dark swamp water.

Xiulan pivoted and hurled the qi-charged dagger skyward. The weapon spun end over end, its blade crackling with contained yang energy as it arced high above the blood lotus. Without pause, she launched the spear in a lower trajectory, watching its yin-infused form slice through the humid air toward the massive plant.

Time seemed to slow as both weapons traced glowing paths through the dim swamp light. The dagger tumbled at the apex of its arc while the spear drove toward its target.

A ridiculous thought struck her—Ren Chun always called out his techniques. She glanced at his wide-eyed expression and grinned.

Something more dramatic than “River Stone Sundering”...

“Thunder God Splits the Sky and Fucks You Up!”

The dagger detonated overhead in a brilliant flash. Pure yang energy erupted outward in a devastating wave. Her spear struck the muddy earth beside the blood lotus parent a second later, missing its mark by mere inches.

But it didn’t matter.

A blinding pillar of lightning descended from above, bathing the swamp in brilliant yellow light.

Xiulan squinted against the searing brightness as a wall of super-heated vapor rushed toward them. Ren Chun materialized beside her, his hands flowing through practiced motions to form a protective qi barrier. Blue energy crackled around them as electricity arced through the steam, the barrier absorbing each deadly discharge.

The devastating display ended in a heartbeat. Where murky swamp water had stretched moments before, only scorched earth remained. A massive plate of fulgurite marked the lighting strike, replacing the swamp vegetation with glass-like formations.

Xiulan studied the destruction with a mix of awe and disappointment. So much for harvesting more blood lotus.

At least I already collected enough. I’ll just have to nail the Golden Meridian Opening Pill on the first attempt again.

“Thunder God Splits the Sky...?” Ren Chun stared at her with wide eyes as he lowered the barrier.

“And Fucks You Up.” Xiulan smirked at his shocked expression. The technique had worked better than she’d hoped—they’d even survived the blast wave.

“Are you sure you’re not... hiding your cultivation?” Ren Chun studied her intently. “You’re not a hidden master testing me, are you?”

Xiulan slapped his back with a broad grin. “No way! I haven’t even made a single step of progress in Body Refinement yet!”

“But... but that had to be an ancient art!” Ren Chun protested.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Xiulan tapped her temple. “I’m pretty smart!”

He looked like he wanted to cry. Poor puppy.

Tepid Healing Puff

In commerce, as in cultivation, the greatest profits often come not from driving the hardest bargain but from fostering trust that leads to lasting partnerships. A discount given freely today may return tenfold tomorrow.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

A scaled beast lunged from the murky water. Ren Chun’s blade flashed, opening a crimson gash across its snout. The creature retreated with a hiss, joining the others that prowled at the edges of their path.

Pain shot through Xiulan’s ankle, making her stumble. The phantom sensation of blood lotus barbs pierced deep into her flesh. She’d already checked twice—no thorns remained embedded in her skin, but the bloody puncture wounds around her ankle remained.

The dull throb intensified into sharp stabs with each step.

Qi refused to flow properly through her injured foot. The blockage forced her to compensate by channeling extra energy through her other leg to maintain the Water Stepping Foot technique. The uneven distribution drained her reserves faster than normal.

Exhaustion weighed on her limbs, each step requiring more concentration than the last. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool swamp air.

Ren Chun glanced back. “We can’t stop until we’re clear of the wilds.”

“I know.” Xiulan gripped her remaining dagger tighter. The loss of her other weapons left her virtually defenseless if the beasts decided to press their attack.

She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, leaving their mutual defense to Ren Chun. Just a little further.

The qi disc beneath Xiulan’s feet flickered and dissolved. She plunged downward, barely managing to solidify enough energy to catch herself on one knee before splashing into the fetid swamp water. The impact sent fresh waves of pain shooting through her ankle.

“What are you doing?” Ren Chun turned back.

“Hah... nothing.” Xiulan spotted a patch of solid ground nearby and dragged herself toward it. The grass-covered earth provided enough stability for her to settle down.

She pulled back her robe and examined her ankle. Blood seeped through several puncture holes in her boot leather. Neither Qingfeng nor the game had never mentioned blood lotus thorns containing poison, but the wound refused to heal.

A normal injury should have started mending by now.

“You can’t walk?” Ren Chun’s shadow fell across her.

Xiulan looked up at his impassive face, her heart rate accelerating. Stories of cultivators betraying their companions for precious resources flooded her mind. The blood lotus and earth heart Roots they’d harvested would fetch an astronomical price.

With her injured and vulnerable, what better opportunity for him to eliminate competition and claim all the spoils?

Xiulan traced the edges of the puncture wounds. “It’s not healing.”

“How much qi did you use?” Ren Chun’s question made her fingers tighten around the dagger hilt. The worn leather grip pressed reassuringly against her palm.

“Yes.” The word slipped out before she could stop it.

Ren Chun’s brow furrowed. “Yes what? I meant how much.”

The tension drained from Xiulan’s shoulders as she released a long breath. “All of it. Twice during the fight.” She prodded at the swollen flesh around her ankle. “The problem is this. It won’t heal—poisoned, maybe.”

“You used...” Ren Chun’s eyes widened. “All of your qi... twice? Once at the end, obviously, but in the middle of the fight, too… and you kept going? How can you—”

He shook his head, then dropped to one knee beside her, studying her ankle. His calloused fingers hovered over the wounds. “Are you sure you aren’t past Body Refinement, Miss Lin?”

Pain lanced through her foot at his light touch. Xiulan jerked back with a sharp intake of breath. “Very sure, thank you. That hurts.”

Ren Chun squatted and turned his back to her. “Well, we should get out of here. Hop on.”

Xiulan blinked at his broad back. “What?”

“Ride on my back.”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “You aren’t going to kill me and take my things?”

“That wouldn’t be very justice!” Ren Chun’s enthusiastic declaration echoed across the swamp.

She didn’t miss the hurt look on his face as he turned away. His palms waved her forward.

Xiulan shifted forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hand gripped her injured leg while maintaining a firm hold on his sword with the other one.

The world tilted as he stood. Each step jostled her ankle, but his steady grip prevented the worst of the pain. The methodical rhythm of his movement almost lulled her into relaxing.

“Plus, I know how you work now.” Ren Chun’s cheerful tone sparked immediate suspicion. “You’re definitely going to give me a discount on that reinforcement pill, right? Right, Miss Lin? A big discount?”

Xiulan tightened her arms around his neck, applying just enough pressure to make him squawk. She leaned close to his ear. “The very biggest discount, of course—if I don’t strangle you first!”

Ren Chun’s laugh rumbled through his back. He picked up speed, weaving between beasts rather than engaging them. The swift movements sent waves of dizziness through Xiulan’s head, but his grip remained secure as they raced through the darkening swamp.

It took a while, but eventually they made it to the dense fog wall. Pushing through it only took a few minutes more.

The other side revealed a clear sky.

“We’re out.” Ren Chun stepped onto solid ground and wiped his blade against his robe before sliding it back into its sheath with a metallic whisper.

Xiulan released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held. “We should head back to the stable in the village.”

“Need to find the road first. Get our bearings.” Ren Chun adjusted his grip on her legs.

“Right.”

Xiulan closed her eyes and focused inward. Her qi flowed smoothly through most meridians, a gentle energy current circulating through her body. She probed deeper, examining the injured area around her ankle. The chaotic disruption remained unchanged—neither spreading nor healing.

She pushed qi toward the wound. The energy hit an invisible wall, refusing to penetrate the affected area. Switching tactics, she tried redirecting the flow through smaller pathways, attempting to bypass her ankle and reach her toes directly. The qi followed these alternative routes but failed to breach the blockage.

The sensation felt alien, different from muscle strain or broken bones. Was this what cultivators meant by internal injuries?

In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, combat mechanics split damage between internal and external rather than using simplified hit points. The distinction made more sense now—her ankle bore both types of wounds.

The external punctures leaked blood while something deeper resisted her qi’s healing influence. At least cultivation meant she wouldn’t bleed out like a mortal.

“Surprising,” Ren Chun muttered as he carried her through the thinning swamp.

“What is?”

“Well...” Ren Chun adjusted his grip. “I read about this, but Miss Lin doesn’t smell like flowers or anything nice.”

Xiulan squeezed her arms around his neck and thwacked him on the head. “I doubt you can smell anything at all! We’re both covered in swamp shit from head to toe!”

“Ow...” Ren Chun rubbed the spot she’d struck while maintaining his balance. “There’s no need to hit me!”

“Let me give you some advice.” Xiulan relaxed her grip but kept her tone stern. “Don’t talk about how a girl smells unless she already likes you, or she’ll hate you.”

“I’m sure you like me though—you’re riding on my back after all!”

“Ren Chun, you’re losing your discount!” Xiulan tightened her grip around his neck. “Actually, I will charge you double!”

“Please, no! Not that!” Ren Chun quickened his pace.

They reached the village road as dusk approached. Despite the throbbing pain, she insisted on walking the final stretch. The horses nickered softly as she approached their stalls, ears pricking forward.

“Stable master?” Xiulan called out. The old man emerged from the feed room. “Could you spare two tubs of water for us?”

He tugged at his beard. “Sorry miss, we’re too small for an inn here. But I can get you water barrels meant for the animals. Won’t be hot, though.”

“That will do fine. We can manage.” Xiulan glanced around the stable. Ren Chun had vanished somewhere.

She limped to an empty stall and sank into a pile of fresh straw, the pack containing their prize sitting heavy in her lap. She wanted to inspect the haul, but breaking Qingfeng’s one-time protective seal would endanger the blood lotus. Instead, she set it aside carefully.

A clay pot of water sat near the straw. Xiulan pulled her leg closer and poured water over the crusted boot. Pain shot through her ankle as she tugged the leather free, dried blood cracking and peeling away from the puncture wounds.

“Dammit.” She tossed the ruined boot aside and examined her ankle. Blood seeped from the holes as she peeled away her shredded sock, more matted chunks of dried blood coming away with the fabric.

Xiulan flexed her toes experimentally. The movement sent fresh waves of pain up her leg. Her lack of immortal first aid knowledge bit at her. Qingfeng had known about Ren Chun helping her, otherwise she would have assumed he meant for her to die or something.

She sighed. No ambulances or hospitals existed in this world—she’d have to figure something out on her own.

Straw crunched in the stable hall. She glanced up to find Ren Chun studying her exposed ankle.

“Already took it off.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a spirit stone. The pale crystal caught the lantern light as he extended it toward her. “Here.”

Xiulan accepted the stone, its smooth surface pulsing against her palm with latent energy. “What’s it for?”

“Even if we split all the spirit stones to me, I can give you one to help with your injury without complaint, right?” Ren Chun grinned.

“I don’t know how to use it.” Xiulan rolled the stone between her fingers. “I need Heaven Grass tea or some kind of remedy?” The words lifted into a question at the end.

He gave her that look again. “Have you never been poisoned or hurt before?”

“Just minor things.” Xiulan prodded at the swollen flesh around the puncture wounds. “Never anything like this.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” Ren Chun knelt beside her and took back the spirit stone. He held it over her injury, his usual playfulness replaced by focus. “There’s corrupted qi from the blood lotus in your meridian there, effectively sealing it. The only way to fix that is to force it open with more qi—it will resist your own internal flows, so it needs something from outside to knock it loose.”

She peered at him. “Why didn’t we just do this earlier then, so I could walk?”

Ren Chun scratched his cheek and looked away. “I thought if I could carry you, you’d give me a—”

Xiulan’s good foot connected with his side. The impact sent him tumbling backward into a pile of hay. “Ren Chun!”

She snatched the tumbling spirit stone out of the air and waved it over her injury. The stupid thing remained inert in her grip.

“That’s going to leave a bruise.” Ren Chun rubbed his hip as he sat up.

Xiulan swallowed her retort. She couldn’t kill him until he showed her how to use the spirit stone first!

Interluding Cloud

In times of upheaval, rumors spread like wildfire through dry grass. The wise cultivator knows that perception shapes reality more than truth ever could. Your enemies will craft their narrative regardless of facts—your task is not to prevent their lies, but to ensure your truth proves more compelling in the end.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

The weather matched her mood.

Thunder cracked overhead as Blackmere’s city walls emerged through the misty distance. Light raindrops pattered against Xiulan’s already mud-stained robes.

“We should pick up the pace before this gets worse.” Xiulan adjusted her grip on the reins.

“Hmmm.” Ren Chun’s noncommittal response drew her attention.

A transparent dome of qi energy shimmered above his head, deflecting each raindrop. The martial artist sat dry and comfortable atop his mount while Xiulan endured the increasing drizzle.

“Want to use your last favor learning this one?” Ren Chun flashed a smug grin.

Xiulan kicked her horse into a trot. “Not interested!” The steady clip-clop of hooves splashed through forming puddles as she pulled ahead.

Despite the weather, the city gates thrummed with activity. Merchants haggled over goods while porters shouldered heavy loads between the walls. The new acting magistrate had maintained order on the surface at least—a pleasant surprise after the corruption of his predecessor.

Xiulan slowed her mount at the edge of the crowd, and Ren Chun caught up as she guided her horse through the gates. The guards snapped to attention with crisp salutes, recognition clear in their eyes despite her disheveled state. She nodded back to them.

Next time she ventured into the wilds, she needed spare robes—or perhaps some kind of mystical cleaning technique cultivators surely possessed. No one in the game ever got muddy.

The rain intensified as they passed beneath the city’s archways, turning the cobbled streets into shallow streams.

“Hey! Where are we going anyway?” Ren Chun called out from behind.

Xiulan steered her mount around a merchant’s cart. “First, we return these horses. Then I need to verify my family’s city manor hasn’t burned down in my absence.”

He continued to follow her. “Haaah, okay.”

The manor’s familiar stone walls emerged through sheets of rain. She hadn’t been entirely serious about it, but relief washed over Xiulan at the sight of the intact structure, its gates standing wide open. She guided her horse through the entrance.

“Halt—” A guard’s challenge cut short. Recognition flashed across his face. “Miss Lin has returned!”

Manager Han rushed out from beneath a covered walkway, his robes fluttering. “Did your expedition yield good results?”

Xiulan nodded, droplets falling from her sodden hair. “Thank you, Manager Han.” She turned to a nearby servant. “Please prepare a guest room for Mr. Ren with baths and fresh clothing.”

The servant’s eyes widened at their mud-caked appearance. She bowed deeply. “Right away, Miss Lin!”

“So we’re staying here?” Ren Chun asked.

Xiulan released a tense breath and turned toward Ren Chun. “You’re welcome to stay as a guest for as long as you like. Consider it thanks for your help.”

“Alright, but what about after that?” He returned his horse’s reins to a servant who led the animal into the stable to be cared for.

A knot of guilt pricked at Xiulan’s stomach and she bowed her head. “You hardly owed me any favor at all. You’ve done enough—you don’t owe me anything more.”

She adjusted her soaked sleeve. “Come by when you wish. I’ll see about making that Earth Reinforcement Pill without charge. That should repay you properly.”

She pivoted toward the manor entrance, but warm fingers wrapped around her wrist. The sudden contact sent a jolt through her qi meridians. She spun back, eyes widening at his stern expression.

“Aren’t you a bit full of yourself right now, Miss Lin?” Ren Chun’s grip remained firm but gentle. “Are you thinking I’m too stupid to know when and why I owe a favor? After how well the first one went, you think I’ll let you return the last favor like this?” He exhaled sharply and frowned. “I’ll pay for the pill, and still owe you a favor.”

“But—”

“Ah ah, no buts.” Ren Chun released her wrist. “Call on me for the last favor when you need it, and I’ll try to help. If you can make it as eventful as our adventure in the swamp, that would be great!”

A grin spread across his rain-streaked face. “And are you really in a position to turn it down? I don’t know the specifics, but Miss Lin always gives off the impression that she’s in some type of trouble.”

Xiulan studied the rain-soaked cobblestones beneath her feet. “I’m sorry, and thank you.”

Ren Chun tilted his head. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“Those four words! From you!” Ren Chun spread his arms wide. “Never thought I’d hear that from you! You’re such an aggressive person.”

“What!” Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks as she spun away from him.

Muddy water splashed beneath her boots. “The ingredients for your pill will be ready in a few days,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I need help with something, but right now, I just want a bath and to handle today’s business!”

“A wise choice.” Ren Chun nodded sagely. “As the great Hong Bi always says, a clean body and mind shall keep one ready!”

They trudged through puddles toward the residence.

“By the way,” Ren Chun said, “I can still get that discount, right?”

Xiulan’s foot slipped on the wet stone, but she caught herself.

It was impossible to not let out a tsk. “Yes, you can have a discount.”

Ren Chun’s laughter echoed through the courtyard.

Steam curled off Xiulan’s skin as she stepped from the bath. The hot water had worked wonders. She slipped into a light silk robe, savoring the smooth fabric against her clean skin.

The plush bed beckoned. Xiulan sank into its softness, releasing a long breath as tension melted away. A servant brought a plate of fresh fruit—sweet lychee and ripe peaches. The burst of flavor helped revive her somewhat.

“Please inform Manager Han and the officials to meet me in the court hall,” Xiulan told the hovering servant.

After finishing the fruit, she called for one of her fresh martial dresses. The servants helped her into it, securing each tie with practiced efficiency.

The golden signet ring of the city manor felt heavy in her palm as she walked to the court hall. Its weight carried the authority of generations. Not that she thought her ancestors would look kindly on her for possessing it.

She settled onto the carved wooden throne, adjusting her posture to project confidence.

Officials filed in, their robes rustling as they bowed in unison. “Greetings, Miss Lin.”

“Your reports?” Xiulan kept her tone crisp.

They launched into endless details: grain storehouse inventories, guard patrol schedules, tax collection figures. Xiulan directed some matters to her mother’s attention, assigned priorities, and gave clear instructions. The mundane administrative tasks proved more draining than the travel through the swamp.

A dull throb built behind her temples. Even pushing qi through her meridians failed to ease the headache. Isn’t it really unfair that cultivators can still get headaches?

“Continue your duties,” Xiulan dismissed them with a wave. “Manager Han, stay a moment.”

The former soldier remained, standing at attention.

“Watch them closely,” Xiulan said. “Report any suspicious activity from them or the city magistrate.”

Han Shun bowed stiffly. “I will do my best, Miss Lin, though I lack training in court politics.”

She shook her head. “Sometimes a soldier’s discipline serves better than a politician’s schemes.”

Xiulan retreated to her chambers, collected her travel pack, and headed for the armory.

Inside the building, she tested the weight of multiple spears, searching for one that matched her previous weapon’s balance. The fifth clicked perfectly into her back sheath—a standard issue weapon that would serve well enough until she could acquire something better.

A fresh dagger snapped into her belt sheathe. The weapons she’d lost in the swamp hadn’t been anything special, which eased the sting of their loss. Still, she needed to be better prepared next time.

The sleeve of her new martial outfit whispered against her skin as she ran her fingers along the intricate turquoise, black, and gold patterns. The fabric moved with far more grace than her hastily dyed black outfit, which had grown stiff from the rushed treatment.

She poked her head out the door, looking up into the sky as rain drummed against the roof tiles. She let out an annoyed breath.

Gathering qi into her palm, she attempted to form it into an umbrella shield. It mostly worked, but the energy pulsed bright and visible—too conspicuous for walking through the city streets. If she was using Ren Chun as a measuring stick, she certainly had a lot of qi. But fine control?

She’d probably need to wait until she reached the Qi Gathering or Qi Refinement stages… and that was still a ways away. But since Ren Chun could do it, there had to be a trick to the umbrella skill that she didn’t know.

With a frustrated huff, she reached back inside and grabbed a leather-wrapped umbrella. The sturdy construction put the flimsy paper parasols noble ladies carried to shame.

The weight of earth-heart root and blood lotus petals pressed against her back as she adjusted her pack. She would have visited Master Qingfeng first, but appearing at the Treasure Pavilion covered in swamp muck would have seemed either disrespectful or desperate.

Neither impression would serve her well.

Qi pulsed through her meridians in time with her growing anxiety. The bath had washed away the physical remnants of the expedition, but clean skin and fresh clothes had brought new worry for Mei Chen.

At least the leather-wrapped umbrella kept most of the rain off as she headed out.

“Miss Lin.” The gate guards snapped to attention. “Would you like an escort into the city?”

“No need.” Xiulan adjusted her pack. The less attention drawn to her movements, the better.

The streets proved oddly empty despite the light rain. The few citizens who spotted her darted into doorways or crossed to the other side. Whispered conversations and furtive glances followed in her wake.

Great. More rumors. At this rate, they probably thought she breathed fire or ate children for breakfast. The image almost made her laugh.

The Treasure Pavilion’s curved eaves came into view through the drizzle. Xiulan shook excess water from her umbrella before stepping under the gate. The familiar scent of incense and tea filled the beckoning courtyard.

A servant approached with a practiced bow. “Welcome to the Treasure Pavilion.”

She nodded politely. “Please inform Master Qingfeng that Lin Xiulan requests an audience. I’ve brought earth heart root to sell and wish to make additional purchases.”

“At once.” The servant bowed again and retreated.

Movement caught her attention. Two cultivators in indigo robes rose from their usual corner where a half-finished game of Go lay abandoned on the table.

The taller one stormed toward her with thunderous steps. “You better not be here to cause trouble, we’ve already had to—”

His companion grabbed his arm. “Wait, Martial Brother Long.” The shorter cultivator studied her face. “I recognize her. She’s come here before.”

Long stepped closer, squinting at Xiulan. “Martial Brother Mo, I think you’re right. Didn’t she speak with Master Qingfeng both times?”

Mo performed a crisp martial salute, the sleeves of his indigo robe rustling. “We serve as guards from Aqua Seraph Academy, contracted by the Treasure Pavilion.”

“Lin Xiulan, sister to Lord Lin.” Xiulan returned the salute with practiced grace.

“Remarkable.” Long scratched his chin. “Your first visit here showed no signs of cultivation. Yet now...”

Xiulan stretched her lips into a practiced smile. “Why such hostility upon my arrival today?”

A flush crept up Long’s neck. “My deepest apologies.” He shifted his weight. “We’ve dealt with numerous young cultivators lately. Many lack proper respect for the Treasure Pavilion’s customs.”

“Oh?” Xiulan arched an eyebrow.

“You haven’t heard?” Mo’s eyes widened. “A substantial bounty circulates for a rogue cultivator—the one who murdered your family. The notice brought many hunters to the city.”

House Chao moves faster than expected. Xiulan pressed her lips together. The rumors spreading through the city would only complicate matters. Perhaps it didn’t matter anymore; House Chao would construct whatever truth suited their agenda.

And the truth was a perfect excuse to pursue Zhang Wei. The trap had indeed set itself.

At least they seemed to lack evidence, otherwise the bounty would have specified her directly.

Her cultivation needed to strike a delicate balance—strong enough to protect her family, yet not so powerful she’d be forced to abandon them, at least until she dealt with House Chao. Her mother would need to secure House Min’s support, too.

“I heard about a small bounty,” Xiulan said.

Long shook his head. “It started small, but now exceeds a thousand spirit stones. Young masters and fairies flood into the county, drawn by the reward. Word is the culprit still lurks nearby.”

A thousand? No wonder. A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “I hope these visitors don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Such upheaval must weigh heavily on you.” Long’s tone softened. “Losing family while awakening as a cultivator... Perhaps catching the culprit will bring peace.”

A servant approached with quick steps and dropped into a bow. “Master Qingfeng awaits Fairy Lin on the second floor.”

“Thank you for sharing the information.” Xiulan bowed to the two martial brothers.

They returned her bow with matching precision. “Good health to you, Fairy Lin.”

The weight of their words settled in her stomach as she turned toward the stairs. Peace seemed an unlikely prospect.

Standard Reunion with Alchemical Shopping Spree

In the dance of commerce, true wisdom lies not in the price asked but in understanding the value exchanged. A skilled merchant sees beyond mere coins to the worth carried in each item's essence, for in this recognition lies the foundation of lasting prosperity.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Master Qingfeng waited outside the tea room, his hands clasped behind his back. Xiulan approached, giving a deep bow.

“Master Qingfeng,” she greeted him.

“Miss Lin,” he replied with a nod. “How did your venture fare?”

“I obtained the blood lotus and more,” Xiulan said. “I’d like to discuss everything with you, but if possible, I would like to see Mei Chen first.”

“Understandable.” Qingfeng nodded. “Follow me.”

Xiulan followed him along the polished wooden balcony. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the ornate railings that danced across their path. Each step brought a fresh wave of strengthening spiritual energy—more potent than anywhere else in the pavilion.

Master Qingfeng stopped at an elaborately carved door. “This is the pavilion’s item forge.”

The door swung open, releasing a rush of warm yang that tingled against Xiulan’s skin. Golden light spilled into the hallway, reflecting off the metallic surfaces within.

She stepped inside, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brilliant glow emanating from the walls. Ornate bronze fixtures and delicate golden talismans adorned every surface, each pulsing with spiritual power.

In the center of the room, Mei Chen rested motionless on a massive bronze table. Cushions cradled her body at precise angles, and the metal surface beneath her glistened with condensation. Unlike before, no frost crept across her skin or clung to the surrounding air.

“Were there any changes?” Xiulan asked, studying Mei Chen’s face.

“She has been peaceful,” Qingfeng said. “By my calculations from the growing yin, Mei Chen will remain stable for at least four weeks, possibly five or six, without intervention.”

She approached and pulled a pillow up to sit beside Mei Chen. The cool air surrounding her friend raised goosebumps, but it wasn’t unbearable. She slid Mei Chen’s hand out and squeezed it. Cold.

Qingfeng watched her intently as she closed her eyes and opened her palm meridian. The familiar pull of qi began, and she let it flow freely. Her dantian refilled the lost qi more easily now compared to when she first broke through.

Whether it was because she regularly used and drained qi repeatedly in the last few days, or just because her meridians and main line had been cleared out nearly perfectly, she had no idea.

Xiulan sank deeper into the familiar rhythm. Her dantian replenished the flowing energy without strain, making the process feel as natural as breathing. Time blurred at the edges of her awareness.

The peaceful flow shattered as icy energy crashed through her meridians. The reversal hit like plunging into a frozen lake.

Xiulan?

The ghostly whisper echoed through her mind. Xiulan broke the connection with a sharp gasp. Her eyes snapped open, focusing on Mei Chen’s still form. Frost crystals sparkled across her own skin where their hands connected, the air in front of her turning white with each rapid breath.

“Are you alright?” Master Qingfeng stood at her shoulder, closer than before.

“A bit chilled.” Xiulan suppressed another shiver. The cold burrowed deep into her bones.

“If you hadn’t stopped, I would have separated you myself.” Master Qingfeng stepped back. “Mei Chen’s qi overflowed into your channels. The overwhelming yin energy would do more harm to you than her.”

“I heard her voice.” Xiulan exhaled another cloud of frost. “In my mind, she called my name.”

“While unconventional for spirit communication, it suggests hope.” Master Qingfeng stroked his beard. “Unless the yin energy simply addled your senses.”

Xiulan wrapped her arms tight around herself as another violent shiver wracked her frame. “Perhaps we could discuss this over hot tea? Somewhere warmer?”

Master Qingfeng’s frown deepened as he studied her.

She followed him down the corridor to the familiar tea room, her limbs still trembling from the lingering cold.

A servant glided into the room carrying an ornate tea service. Steam curled from the spout of the jade teapot as the servant moved to pour, but Master Qingfeng raised his hand.

He pulled a tiny crimson pill from his sleeve and dropped it into the pot with a soft plop. The liquid inside swirled with hints of red.

“Master Qingfeng?” Xiulan straightened.

“I feel the need to try the tea with a bit of extra flavor today.” Master Qingfeng gestured to the pot. “Please, try it out.”

Xiulan frowned at the steaming pot. The red tint reminded her of blood lotus, but she couldn’t just outright refuse without insulting him. She lifted the delicate cup to her lips and sipped.

Heat exploded through her core. Qi surged through her meridians in waves of warmth that pulsed outward from her dantian. The sensation flooded every channel with liquid fire.

Across the table, Master Qingfeng calmly drank his tea as if it contained nothing more exotic than honey.

The frozen numbness in her extremities melted away, and the fog that had settled over her thoughts evaporated like morning dew. Xiulan flexed her fingers, noticing the stiffness had disappeared.

“Hah...” Xiulan released a long breath. “Master Qingfeng, I’m really afraid of what you will end up asking for in return for the favor. It seems to keep getting bigger.”

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard. “Weren’t you the one who encouraged me to get the most value from my investment?”

Xiulan suppressed a groan. She had said exactly that. The realization settled in her stomach like a lead weight—too late to back out now. This felt remarkably similar to climbing an endless incline, with no way to see what waited at the peak.

Master Qingfeng pointed at the forgotten pack beside Xiulan’s feet. “Let us inspect the blood lotus.”

Xiulan nodded and lifted the pack onto the polished table surface. Master Qingfeng tapped the preservation seal with practiced precision.

The seal broke with a soft hiss. A wave of putrid swamp stench filled the tea room, accompanied by a splash of murky water and dark muck that spilled across the pristine surface. The pungent odor of rotting vegetation assaulted Xiulan’s nose.

Master Qingfeng coughed delicately into his sleeve.

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. “We were in quite a hurry during collection. I didn’t consider how the preservation seal would affect everything inside and...” She trailed off, fighting the urge to sink into the floor.

“Your wisdom remains quite unbalanced.” Master Qingfeng sighed. “A bit of forewarning would have been ideal.” He flicked his wrist in a graceful motion. The muddy water and debris lifted into the air, condensing into a spinning orb before vanishing with a soft pop.

“I’ll do my best to even out my wrinkles,” Xiulan said as she reached into the pack and began arranging the blood lotus petals across the now-clean table. Each translucent red petal gleamed like a drop of fresh blood in the room's light.

The sorting took several minutes. Xiulan counted just under a thousand pristine petals spread before them in neat rows.

“There should be enough.” Xiulan smiled at the impressive display.

"I'll store the five hundred petals you need in the pavilion's vault in a qi-sealed container." Master Qingfeng raised an eyebrow. “You must be very confident if you only collected enough for one attempt.”

Xiulan grinned, placing her left hand over her right biceps and raising a fist. “If there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s making this particular pill!”

Master Qingfeng chuckled, the sound echoing off the polished walls. “I don’t know where such confidence stems from, but if you made two on your first attempt, I’ll accept your word.”

Xiulan released a measured breath and nodded. She reached for the earth heart root, its earthen scent mixing with the metallic tang of blood lotus. “Would the pavilion be interested in purchasing the excess blood lotus petals and roots? I need spirit stones for supplies: a pill furnace and ingredients for a reinforcement pill.”

“Of course. That’s a standard service we provide.” Master Qingfeng straightened the sleeve of his robe. “A pavilion merchandiser can handle the transaction after our discussion.”

“Thank you.” Xiulan bowed her head.

“Now, about the dawn serpent scales.” Master Qingfeng leaned forward. “That will be your next mission. I have arrangements in motion to assist you, but you’ll need to return in a few days once everything arrives.”

Xiulan blinked at the cryptic statement. “What sort of arrangements?”

He chuckled. “You’ll need a specialized tool to extract the scales while the beasts are still alive.”

A cold knot formed in Xiulan’s stomach. Wasn’t Master Qingfeng having too much fun with this?

The thought of harvesting scales from living serpents sounded significantly more dangerous than fighting a plant monster in a swamp.

The trade room gleamed with polished rosewood panels and intricate brass fixtures. A massive evaluation table dominated the center, its surface inlaid with precise measurement markings and protective seals. Brass scales hung from ceiling hooks, while glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls, displaying reference specimens in preserved clarity.

Xiulan arranged her collection on the table’s smooth surface.

She separated twelve blood lotuses and four earth heart roots for her personal use, setting them aside in a silk-wrapped bundle.

The remaining thirty-one bundles of petals still glistened with preserved moisture. Beside them, she arranged eighty-three earth heart roots in neat rows, their earthy aroma mixing with the room’s sandalwood incense.

The door opened with a soft click. A tall woman in purple robes entered, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun. Three golden pins marked her as a senior of the pavilion. Her amethyst eyes settled on Xiulan with keen interest.

“Welcome to the Treasure Pavilion’s trade hall.” The merchandiser bowed precisely. “I am Senior Appraiser Ming.”

Xiulan returned the bow. “Lin Xiulan. Thank you for evaluating my goods.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Appraiser Ming approached the table. “What price did you have in mind?”

“Four spirit stones per bundle of blood lotus.” Xiulan gestured to her arrangement. “These were harvested from the heart of Blackmere Swamp. The quality speaks for itself—each stalk contains maximum spiritual essence.”

Grown from my own blood, even.

Appraiser Ming produced a set of spectacles and leaned over the blood lotus bundles. Her fingers traced along a slightly bruised petal in the back row. “Two spirit stones per bundle would be fair. The rough handling during transport damaged several.”

Xiulan gave a dramatic sigh, though her eyes twinkled. “Rough handling? I used Master Qingfeng’s very own preservation pack for transporting them. You’re breaking my heart, Appraiser Ming.”

Ming’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “Two spirit stones.” She adjusted her spectacles, unperturbed. “The damage is clear.”

Xiulan leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about we settle at three and I promise to be extra gentle next time? Besides, I know there was a mass purchase of them recently. The price should be up, not down.”

Ming straightened and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with a hint of amusement. “Three. The market hasn’t shifted that dramatically, but I acknowledge the quality of most of the bundles.”

“Agreed.” Xiulan nodded, relieved to secure ninety-three spirit stones for the blood lotus—a fair compromise.

Ming shifted her attention to the earth heart roots, picking one up and examining its crystalline core. “These roots vary significantly in quality. Some barely maintain spiritual resonance. Two spirit stones per root would be generous, considering the inconsistency.”

Xiulan shook her head, clicking her tongue lightly. “Ming, you wound me again. Are you trying to make me leave with just enough to buy dinner?” She picked up an earth heart root and twirled it between her fingers.

“Four spirit stones per root. These were harvested yesterday—the qi resonance remains at peak potency.” She channeled a wisp of qi into the root, causing it to pulse with golden light. “The freshness commands premium value, and while some are smaller, there are several very large ones that could be considered special.”

Ming lifted another root, examining its translucent core against the sunlight. “Three spirit stones. The market can’t sustain higher prices, even for fresh specimens.” She set the root down with practiced precision. “The variation in size affects their cultivation utility.”

Xiulan pursed her lips and gave Ming a sideways glance. “Three spirit stones and I’ll even throw in a smile.” She flashed a grin.

Ming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she pulled out a jade abacus, fingers dancing across the beads. “Blood lotus at ninety-three spirit stones. Earth heart roots at two hundred and forty-nine.”

The beads clicked into place. “Total compensation: three hundred and forty-two spirit stones.”

Xiulan drummed her fingers against the polished table surface while calculating her next purchases. A basic alchemy setup required specific equipment and supplies—a pill furnace topped her list.

“Does the treasure pavilion stock cultivation equipment related to alchemy?” Xiulan kept her tone casual, masking her eagerness.

“Indeed.” Ming gestured toward a side door. “Please follow me to our equipment hall.”

The adjacent room housed rows of gleaming metal furnaces. Their surfaces rippled with engraved formation arrays, each pattern unique. Xiulan ran her fingers across a mid-sized furnace, sensing the refined spiritual metal beneath her touch.

“This standard cultivation furnace costs one hundred spirit stones.” Ming tapped the furnace’s rim. “Perfect for beginning alchemists.”

“Eighty.” Xiulan traced the formation arrays. “The spiritual resonance suggests moderate use.”

Ming shook her head. “These furnaces maintain their value. Ninety spirit stones—a fair price considering the quality of the metal.”

Xiulan tilted her head, giving Ming a mock pout. “You’re tough, Ming. But alright, ninety it is.”

After securing the furnace, Xiulan pointed to stacked boxes of spiritual charcoal. “I’ll need fuel.”

“Thirty spirit stones per box.” Ming lifted the lid, revealing densely packed black crystals.

“Twenty.” Xiulan picked up a crystal, testing its spiritual density. “They’re all misshapen and different sizes.”

Ming quirked an eyebrow. “You’re burning them, not making jewelry. Twenty-five.”

Xiulan gave a small laugh. “Fair enough. Twenty-five it is.”

Ming led her to a section filled with crystalline containers. Spiritual water glowed with ethereal light inside sealed jars, tiny bubbles inside pulsing with pure energy.

“Fifty spirit stones for a jar of spring water from the Duchy of Frosthelm.” Ming lifted a crystal container.

Xiulan studied the spiritual resonance through the crystal. “Forty. These look old. There are specks of dust on the backside of the container.”

Ming winced and rotated the jar herself, running a finger over the glass. She didn’t betray any emotion, but Xiulan figured someone was going to be in big trouble later.

“Forty-five.” Ming traced the jar’s seal. “The water maintains purity despite the collection timing.”

“Acceptable.” Xiulan nodded, calculating her remaining funds.

They moved to a shelf displaying rows of jade-inlaid containers. Spiritual formations carved into their surfaces promised perfect preservation of alchemical ingredients.

“Thirty-five spirit stones each for the qi-sealing containers.” Ming demonstrated the locking mechanism. “Triple-layered formations prevent essence loss.”

Xiulan inspected the formation work. “Twenty-five.”

Ming adjusted her spectacles. “Thirty. If you want, I can apply a normal discount to each item and we don’t have to haggle.”

Xiulan chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?” She selected three containers with the strongest qi resonance. “Done.”

A display of stone grinding tools caught her attention: various mortars and pestles arranged by size and material quality.

“Seventeen spirit stones for this spirit-imbued set.” Ming lifted a pestle carved from black stone shot through with silver veins.

Xiulan tested the pestle’s weight. “Agreed.”

She placed the tool with her other purchases and then spotted several shelves lined with dried herbs sealed in crystal jars. The purification herbs glowed with a faint spiritual resonance, their leaves perfectly preserved.

“Twenty-two spirit stones for the complete array.” Ming gestured to a set of twelve jars. “Each herb maintains peak potency through our preservation methods.”

“I’ll take it,” Xiulan said. Ming helped her carry the set to her growing pile of things.

A tray of iridescent sand caught the sunlight, each grain refracting rainbow hues. Ming scooped a handful, letting it flow between her fingers. “Twelve spirit stones for the grinding sand. Essential for breaking down spiritual materials.”

Xiulan tested the sand’s spiritual density. “Eight.”

Ming frowned. “I’ve already applied a substantial discount to this.”

“The qi saturation is uneven.” Xiulan picked up a pinch of the sand and pulsed a small amount of qi into her fingertip. It sparkled unevenly in little spots and lines. “It’ll take work to homogenize it.”

Ming finally nodded. “I can go down to ten spirit stones.”

“Done.” Xiulan nodded.

A row of bronze braziers lined the next shelf, their surfaces etched with flame-control arrays. Ming selected a compact model.

“Twenty spirit stones,” she said. “The formation work ensures precise temperature control.”

“Fifteen.” Xiulan traced the arrays. “The bronze shows minor oxidation.”

“Eighteen.” Ming demonstrated the temperature adjustment mechanism. “The patina doesn’t affect functionality.”

Xiulan added the brazier to her growing collection. Crystal vials caught her attention, their surfaces marked with precise measurement lines.

“Eight spirit stones for the set.” Ming held up a vial. “Spirit-reinforced glass prevents contamination.”

“Six.” Xiulan inspected the graduation marks. “The reinforcement is thin at the necks.”

“Seven.” Ming placed the vials in a padded case. “The markings compensate for any structural concerns.”

Xiulan smiled and nodded. “Deal. I think that’s everything I need.”

She counted up her purchases and the prices. She had eighteen spirit stones left—just enough for her cultivation and the alchemy tasks she had planned. Probably.

The flow of purchases and haggling might have gotten a little carried away.

She gestured to her selections. “Have everything delivered to the city manor as soon as possible, please.”

Ming smiled as she bowed. “The Treasure Pavilion is pleased to do business with another satisfied customer.”

Xiulan smiled back politely. “Well, you’d better be! You nearly robbed me of all my earnings.”

Ming raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a subtle smile. “You drove quite a hard bargain yourself, Miss Lin.”

Xiulan laughed. “I guess we both came out even then.”

Standard Fated Encounter in the Street

The strongest alliances form not from necessity or advantage but from the unexpected resonance of kindred spirits. When two hearts recognize their shared path, even the heavens must yield to their combined strength.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan strolled through Blackmere’s market district, humming to herself and taking in the scent of grilled meat wafting from nearby food stalls as she headed back to the Lin family’s city manor. She’d done a good job getting the items she needed.

A sharp turn around a tea shop’s corner resulted in a solid impact. Xiulan stumbled back, steadying herself against the wall. A young man in expensive silver-trimmed robes glared at her, his cultivation aura pulsing with irritation.

“Watch where you’re—” His eyes narrowed, focusing on her spiritual energy signature. “Wait. I don’t recognize you.”

Xiulan blinked. Uh… was he supposed to?

Six cultivators emerged from behind him, spreading out to block potential escape routes. Their spiritual energy seemed nothing special, not more than her own or Ren Chun’s—but that didn’t mean they didn’t pose a serious threat to her.

The young master’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “Could it be? The rogue cultivator everyone’s talking about?”

Xiulan said nothing.

“Boys, why rush to collect the bounty?” He adjusted his sleeve cuffs. “We should enjoy ourselves first.”

One of his followers thrust his hips forward with an exaggerated grunt. The group erupted in raucous laughter.

Seriously? Xiulan suppressed an exasperated eye roll. Do I have some cosmic sign floating above my head?

“I am Lin Xiulan, sister to Lord Lin and daughter of the regent.” Xiulan straightened her spine, projecting authority through her stance. “I have jurisdiction over this city. Such vulgar behavior reflects poorly on your houses.”

The young master snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “We aren’t nobles, brat. Capture her!”

Xiulan drew her spear from her back and held it in a ready stance. The cultivators skidded to an abrupt halt on the cobblestones, their boots scraping against stone. Metal sang as they drew their swords in unison, the afternoon sun glinting off polished steel.

“The bounty specified dead or alive.” The young master adjusted his grip on his blade. “Makes no difference to me.”

“You’re making a grave mistake.” Xiulan shifted into a defensive stance. “The bounty isn’t for me—I’m the victim’s daughter.”

Okay, that was sort of a lie. But there really wasn’t any point in admitting that.

“Doesn’t matter who you really are.” The young master’s lips twisted into an ugly smirk. “Someone will pay good money for you—or at least parts of you on the black market!”

“Stop!” A commanding female voice thundered from above.

Xiulan snapped her gaze upward. A figure soared through the air, performing a graceful somersault before landing on the cobblestones. Sunlight glinted off the woman’s ornate robes as she drew a curved saber from her back, the blade whistling through the air in an elegant flourish.

Was this Ren Chun’s sister or something?

“What do you think you’re doing?” The newcomer pointed her saber at the group, her stance radiating practiced confidence.

The seven men pivoted toward the woman. Xiulan blinked. They’d momentarily forgotten about her?

This is absurd. Xiulan studied her spear with a grimace. She had taken down mortals and beasts with it, but that was more a product of raw speed and strength. She was under no delusion that she’d beat anyone with more training.

And against cultivators at the same level, that was far from the case. Facing seven would end badly even with this mysterious ally—two against seven meant terrible odds.

Time for something decisive.

Xiulan dropped her spear. The metal clattered against stone as she surged qi through her meridians. The energy burned hotter than before, racing through her pathways like liquid fire. Master Qingfeng’s tea must have enhanced her spiritual energy somehow—the intensity threatened to overwhelm her.

No time to analyze it. Her meridians stretched to bursting as spiritual energy overflowed. Xiulan slammed her palms together, channeling the violent qi through the connecting pathways and releasing it forward.

The horizontal vortex erupted into a raging tornado. The six men launched off their feet, bodies ragdolling through the air before hitting stone.

Three bodies slammed into the wall with sickening cracks, necks snapping on impact. Two more crashed awkwardly, their legs twisting at unnatural angles. Only the young master and his crude friend managed to land in defensive crouches.

Screams of agony pierced the air as the metallic scent of blood filled Xiulan’s nostrils. Even the ones with broken necks didn’t die instantly. Well, they were cultivators, so that made sense. Sucked for them, though.

And she wasn’t done.

The young master’s mouth opened, likely to spew more threats. Xiulan clapped again. The qi-enhanced wind blast slammed them back against the wall a second time. While the young master anchored himself with his sword, his last companion convulsed, blood streaming from his eyes and ears before he crumpled to the ground.

Wasn’t she supposed to name these things? Xiulan tapped her chin. “Ah yes—Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters.”

“Are you going to kill him?” The mysterious woman’s tone carried mild curiosity.

Xiulan turned toward her. “Why? Would you like to?”

A casual shrug answered her question.

The young master staggered to his feet, sword wavering as he pointed it at Xiulan. Some people never learn.

Another thunderous clap sent him flying. The wall behind him crumbled inward, burying him and his companions under a cascade of bricks. All of their qi signatures vanished completely. Dead.

Xiulan turned to examine her unexpected ally.

Vivid amber eyes sparkled beneath sandy brown hair that framed an elegant face. Her ornate black and red martial robe trimmed in gold and jade spoke of wealth and status, while her bearing radiated quiet authority.

She’s beautiful. The thought caught Xiulan off guard as she admired the woman’s striking features. Everything about her screamed “protagonist”—from her graceful posture to the confident set of her shoulders.

Xiulan raised an eyebrow at her would-be savior. “Were you expecting to rescue a helpless damsel in distress?”

“I thought you needed assistance.” The woman sheathed her saber with practiced grace. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

“The gesture is appreciated nonetheless.” Xiulan offered a genuine smile.

The woman’s amber eyes sparkled as she smiled back. “I’m Feng Yu. I overheard the conversation earlier. You’re Miss Lin? Daughter of Lord Lin and sister to the new lord?”

Xiulan’s smile cooled to neutral politeness. “I am. Did you have business with me?”

“No, nothing like that.” Feng Yu shook her head, sandy hair swaying. “Like most others, I’m here searching for the rogue cultivator.”

She glanced at the rubble and wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, there are more idiots like him causing trouble than actual investigators.”

The thunder of boots announced the arrival of two dozen city guards. Xiulan beckoned their captain forward.

“Check the bodies.” Xiulan pointed at the debris. “Confirm they’re dead, then transport them to Lin Manor. I’ll deal with them there.”

From the corner of her eye, Xiulan caught Feng Yu’s disappointed frown. Did she really want to play hero for me?

“Would you care to join me for tea at my residence?” Xiulan gestured down the street. “Perhaps we could talk?”

Feng Yu’s face brightened instantly. “Yes, I’d love to!”

Interesting. Xiulan studied her eager response. So you do have ulterior motives after all.

The cobblestones clicked beneath their feet as Xiulan led Feng Yu through Blackmere’s winding streets. A cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine from nearby gardens.

“How is your family coping with the changes?” Feng Yu matched Xiulan’s pace.

Xiulan glanced at her appraisingly before deciding how to answer. “My brother Zhang Wei shows remarkable resilience for his age.” She stepped around a puddle. “Mother—Lady Zhao Lian—has taken control as regent. She’s adapting well to the responsibility.”

Feng Yu nodded politely. “That must be challenging for them both.”

“The provincial prefect promised support. My cousin arrives soon to help manage the aftermath.” Xiulan studied the subtle shifts in Feng Yu’s expression.

“Good, good.” Feng Yu nodded. “About what happened that night—”

Ah, there it is. Xiulan suppressed a smirk. Looking for information to catch the culprit? Unfortunately, I can’t help you there.

“It remains quite traumatic.” Xiulan offered an apologetic smile. “Perhaps we could discuss it another time, when I feel more... settled.”

“Oh!” Feng Yu’s cheeks flushed pink. “I apologize for my insensitivity.”

“Think nothing of it.” Xiulan waved off the apology as they approached the manor gates.

The doors swung open to reveal the main courtyard. Ren Chun stood in the center, his sword flashing in precise arcs as he worked through a complex form. Sweat gleamed on his bare chest as he pivoted and struck at invisible opponents.

“Ren Chun!” Xiulan called out. “Come meet my new friend who helped save me from some rapist asshole in the market district.”

Ren Chun’s practice sword clattered to the ground. Both he and Feng Yu stared at her with wide eyes and slack jaws.

“Ah... Miss Lin, you always have a way with words.” Ren Chun grabbed a nearby cloth to wipe the sweat from his face. He studied Feng Yu with renewed interest. “I am Ren Chun, disciple of Master Hong Bi.” He bowed slightly. “Where do you hail from?”

Feng Yu shifted her weight between feet as she eyed him warily. “I’m a wanderer, though I have family in the Ember Dream Sect.” She reached up to brush a strand of sandy hair behind an ear. “Currently seeking to advance my cultivation through travel and experience.”

Sunlight caught the amber flecks in her eyes as she turned to Xiulan. “I heard about the bounty. I plan to visit Lin Manor later to see if there’s any way to track down the culprit.”

A tight knot formed in Xiulan’s chest. She released an anxious breath, the sound barely audible over the courtyard fountain.

“But I didn’t know Miss Lin was a cultivator.” Feng Yu tilted her head. “How did that come about?”

Xiulan weighed her words carefully. “Master Qingfeng from Blackmere’s treasure pavilion provides me guidance. I am undertaking several important learning expeditions under his direction.”

“Treasure pavilion? Learning expeditions?” Ren Chun scratched his head. “Is that what the blood lotus was about?”

Xiulan nodded. “Next, I must wait a few days before collecting dawn serpent scales.” She paused for effect. “From living serpents.”

A broad grin spread across Ren Chun’s face. “Then you’ll be calling in that favor soon!”

Xiulan lifted her chin, meeting his eager expression with cool indifference. “Did you assume I would ask you?”

Confusion clouded Ren Chun’s features as his grin faltered.

Xiulan linked her arm through Feng Yu’s, the silk of their sleeves rustling together. “I have a new friend who will definitely help me!”

Perfect excuse to keep her close and away from investigating. The last thing I need is another cultivator snooping around and bothering mother.

“Oh...” Feng Yu glanced at her in confusion, neither pulling away nor returning the gesture.

Ren Chun studied Feng Yu with narrowed eyes. “Can she even help you?”

The question ignited something in Feng Yu. She slipped free from Xiulan’s grasp and squared her shoulders. “I assure you I can.” Her hand rested on her saber’s hilt. “I doubt anyone at our level surpasses my blade work!”

Ren Chun straightened, his eyes narrowing. “Master Hong Bi said I was the fastest learning swordsmen he has ever mentored!”

Xiulan’s mouth dropped open slightly. The courtyard’s tension thickened as she glanced between them.

Wait... are they actually competing over this?

Nourishing Flurry

In the pursuit of power, we often overlook the subtle threads of fate that bind us to our destined paths. The strongest cultivator may find their greatest strength not in their own abilities but in the connections they forge with others.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Xiulan signaled to the guards. “Move that brazier closer.” She pointed to the desired spot, watching them shuffle the metal container across the stone courtyard. “Now the wire rack—yes, right there.”

The makeshift grill looked ridiculous, but after adjusting the height of the rack over the coals, she nodded with satisfaction. This should work well enough.

Behind her, the borrowed table displayed the chaotic aftermath of her kitchen raid: various bowls, ingredients, and utensils scattered across its surface. All the kitchen staff except for the head cook had fled after her whirlwind of demands, leaving only their supplies behind.

Half the garrison packed the courtyard, their faces a mix of awe and terror as they watched the spectacle. Manager Han moved through the crowd, murmuring reassurances, while Xiulan focused on her improvised cooking setup.

The source of everyone’s fascination proved impossible to ignore.

Steel rang against steel as Feng Yu and Ren Chun clashed in the center of the yard. Their forms blurred with impossible speed, weapons singing through the air faster than most eyes could track. Each strike sparked and echoed across the stones.

“Remember your promises!” Xiulan called out as a particularly loud clash made several guards flinch. “No spiritual arts, no property damage!”

The duelists acknowledged with quick nods, never breaking their deadly dance. Their blades continued to flash and spin, testing each other’s limits without crossing into truly dangerous territory.

Xiulan stifled a yawn as she watched the two cultivators trade blows. The initial excitement of their duel had faded after an hour of repetitive clashing. Even their superhuman speed and precision failed to maintain her interest.

Who would have thought watching a duel could be so... dull?

The absurdity struck her—here stood two fighters demonstrating skills beyond mortal limits, and all she wanted was a proper burger. Her past life’s American tastes demanded satisfaction.

“Manager Han!” Xiulan waved the nervous man over. “I need ground beef prepared. Finely minced, not the usual chunks.”

The head cook failed to hide his bewildered look as she demonstrated the proper thickness for cutting potatoes. His confusion deepened when she fashioned a crude deep-fry basket from spare wire mesh.

“Honored Miss Lin...” The head cook stuttered at her next request. “That much salt would cost more than premium cuts of meat.”

Xiulan pulled out a heavy pouch of silver and clanked it on the improvised table top. “The cost is irrelevant. Bring me the salt!”

The cook’s eyes widened at the casual display of wealth. “Miss… you don’t actually need to pay me. The salt belongs to the house already.” He bowed deeply and scurried off to fulfill her request.

Xiulan rolled the seasoned meat between her palms, forming perfect spheres before pressing them flat into patties. The familiar motions transported her back to backyard barbecues with college friends before student debt had ruined her prospects.

The salt arrived, and she hurried to add it to the meat. Satisfied with the result, it was time. Each patty sizzled as it hit the heated rack above the glowing coals.

The pot of oil began to bubble. She lowered the heat under it a little by moving the coals. Then she dropped the cut potatoes into the makeshift fryer, stepping back as droplets popped and danced. The aroma of frying potatoes filled the courtyard, drawing curious looks from the guards still watching the ongoing duel.

Definitely not Five Guys quality, but it’ll do.

Her knife moved with practiced precision across the wooden cutting board. Onions fell into thin rings, tomatoes into perfect circles. The unfamiliar Chinese lettuce proved more challenging—its leaves broader and tougher than iceberg—but she managed decent-sized pieces.

“What manner of dish is this?” The head cook peered over her shoulder.

“Something from far away,” Xiulan said before turning to the jury-rigged deep-fryer. She lifted the wire basket, golden fries draining above the oil. After she set them out in a basket, she scattered salt across them while still hot, the crystals adhering to the crispy exterior.

The patties needed flipping. She slid the spatula beneath each one, revealing perfectly browned undersides. The bread—not quite right for burgers but passable—waited in neat slices on a clean cloth.

No mayonnaise, no cheese. The thought pained her, but she pushed ahead. Layer by layer, she assembled each burger: bread, lettuce, meat, tomato, onion, more bread. The finished products looked almost right.

Xiulan pointed at the finished burgers. “Make these for everyone.”

The head cook bowed deeply. “At once, Miss Lin.” He hurried inside, no doubt to round up the scattered kitchen staff.

“Ren Chun! Feng Yu! Fighting’s over—time to eat!” Xiulan shouted across the courtyard.

The clashing of steel intensified. Their forms blurred faster, each strike more ferocious than the last, the air crackling with competitive energy as both fighters pushed for a decisive victory.

“Stubborn idiots.” Xiulan waited another minute before shouting again. The only response came in the form of accelerated attacks and thunderous impacts.

Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.

Xiulan stepped away from her cooking station. Wind buffeted her face as she approached the dueling pair. The force of their strikes created visible ripples, distorting the space between them.

“Ren Chun! Feng Yu! Stop that right now!”

They remained lost in their battle-trance, oblivious to her commands. Well, not oblivious. They were both obviously working to make sure their fight didn’t slam into her.

Xiulan channeled qi into her palms, compressed it tight, then slammed her hands together above her head. The resulting thunderclap shot skyward in a visible shockwave.

The duelists froze mid-strike, weapons locked together as they turned to stare at her.

Xiulan crossed her arms and glared at them both. “Three hours. You’ve been at this for three hours, and I’m done cooking. Now put those away and come eat.”

“Y-you can’t just interrupt a duel like that!” Ren Chun lowered his blade, sweat dripping from his brow.

Feng Yu nodded in agreement, her amber eyes fixed on Xiulan.

Xiulan straightened her back and lifted her chin. “This is my family’s home, and you are both guests here.” She gestured at the surrounding courtyard. “Lin family traditions are quite strict about duels. They cannot last longer than an hour, and they must stop when dinner is served.” The lie flowed smoothly from her lips. “As guests, you need to respect our rules.”

Feng Yu’s amber eyes narrowed after a few seconds of silence. “Did you just make that up?”

“I spent over an hour cooking something special for you both.” Xiulan stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Now that the air calmed down, the scent of grilled meat and fried potatoes wafted between them.

Ren Chun pressed his hand against his mouth, but a snicker escaped anyway. His shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

A smile tugged at Feng Yu’s lips as she fought to maintain her composure.

“If you insist on continuing...” Xiulan raised her hands to the side of her face, ready to raise them and clap again. “I’ll keep doing this until you’re done.”

“No!” Feng Yu sheathed her sword in one fluid motion and raised her hands in surrender. “I’d rather not end up buried in the wall.”

Ren Chun sheathed his blade as well and then placed his fist in palm and saluted Feng Yu. “Your skill with the blade surpasses expectations. We should continue this match at a more... appropriate time and place.”

“Indeed.” Feng Yu returned the formal salute. “Best not to test family traditions—especially those involving spiritual art cultivators.” She glanced at Xiulan. “That Thunder God Claps technique proved quite fearsome.”

Did she just... Xiulan squinted at the casual way Feng Yu butchered the name.

“That?” Ren Chun snorted. “A little thing compared to Thunder God Splits the Sky.”

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. She planted her hands on her hips and fixed Ren Chun with an icy stare. “How would you feel if someone called your sword technique ‘Stone Sundering’ instead of ‘River Stone Sundering Strike’?”

Ren Chun blinked rapidly. “I’d think they got it wrong?”

“Exactly!” Xiulan jabbed a finger toward Feng Yu, whose amber eyes widened. “The proper name is ‘Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters!’”

The finger swung toward Ren Chun. “And it is ‘Thunder God Splits the Sky and Fucks You Up!’”

Xiulan lifted her chin. “Get it right!”

Feng Yu’s jaw dropped, her composed demeanor shattering for a brief moment. She turned to Ren Chun. “Are these names real?”

“They are.” Ren Chun nodded slowly. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

Feng Yu leaned forward, amber eyes bright with curiosity. “What other terrifying techniques does Master Qingfeng teach you?”

Xiulan frowned. “Qingfeng?”

“You mentioned he was your master,” Ren Chun said.

“Oh, no.” Xiulan shook her head. “I made those techniques up myself.”

The courtyard fell silent. Both cultivators stared at her with identical expressions of disbelief etched across their faces.

“Made it up...” Ren Chun started.

“...on your own?” Feng Yu finished.

The smell of cooling food snapped Xiulan’s attention back to the table. “Tsk. You’re wasting time with all this talking.” She gestured at the perfectly arranged burgers. “The food will get cold, and fries are best eaten hot. If you don’t want to ruin all my hard work, come eat now!”

Xiulan looked over her shoulder with satisfaction as both cultivators followed her to the table, too bewildered to argue further.

After everyone was seated, she lifted her burger with both hands. “Watch carefully. You hold it like this, and bite straight through all the layers.” She demonstrated, savoring the familiar taste of grilled beef, the crunch of fresh vegetables, and the fluffy bread.

Ren Chun studied the strange food arrangement before mimicking her grip. His first bite sent a tomato slice shooting out the back of his bun. “This is... messy.”

“That’s part of the appeal.” Xiulan gestured to the fries. “These you eat with your fingers.”

Feng Yu picked up a single fry with practiced grace, examining it before taking a delicate bite. Her amber eyes widened. “The salt brings out the taste of the potato.”

“Always strange.” Ren Chun shook his head while assembling his burger back together. “First those Thunder God techniques, now foreign dishes that require instructions to eat.”

Feng Yu dabbed at her lips with a napkin, fighting back a smile. “The combination proves quite innovative, though perhaps challenging to maintain proper etiquette.”

They ate and chatted for a while; the conversation flowing between safe topics. But there was something Xiulan wanted. She looked at Feng Yu.

“Your schedule permitting,” Xiulan set down her half-eaten burger, “would you consider helping with my next task? Ren Chun assisted with the blood lotus collection—we both benefited from that venture. The dawn serpent scales could offer similar opportunities.”

“Schedule...” Feng Yu paused mid-bite. “I lack specific commitments at present. Though hunting that bounty seemed promising—a thousand spirit stones might prove difficult to obtain helping you.”

“Something to consider.” Xiulan nodded.

“But—” Ren Chun started.

“Don’t worry.” Xiulan cut him off. “I plan to work on your Earth Reinforcement Pill tonight once the Treasure Pavilion delivers my supplies. If everything proceeds smoothly, you’ll have it tomorrow.”

Feng Yu paused mid-bite. “Fairy Lin is an alchemist too?”

“Ha!” Ren Chun swallowed his mouthful of burger. “She knows herbs and spiritual arts. The only thing she lacks is any skill at martial arts or techniques.”

“That sounds rather lopsided,” Feng Yu replied.

“You should have seen when I tried teaching her Water Stepping Foot. You know what she did...?” Ren Chun leaned forward.

“What...?” Feng Yu’s amber eyes sparkled with interest.

Xiulan glanced between them, a frown deepening on her face.

“Instead of doing it properly, she just used her monstrous qi to make a big disc twice her size to stand on!” Ren Chun slapped the table.

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. “What do you mean? What else was I supposed to do?”

Feng Yu pressed her hand to her mouth, but a soft laugh escaped anyway. She picked up another fry, studying it with renewed interest. “What other pills can you make? Maybe a Fire Reinforcement Pill?”

Xiulan tapped her chin, considering the ingredients and processes needed. “With the right materials, I could probably manage it.”

“Hmm.” Feng Yu held up the fry like a tiny wand. “I need one. If you could help me get one, I’d definitely come help with your mission.”

Ren Chun stopped eating and looked unhappy. “What! But the favor…”

Xiulan’s eyes lit up. The Treasure Pavilion would have any ingredients they couldn’t collect for the fire pill. The five basic elemental reinforcement pills were all made the same way and wouldn’t be a problem with the pill furnace.

“Hah, that sounds like a plan!” Xiulan grinned.

Pondering Wisp

The bonds between cultivators are like strands of silk—seemingly delicate, yet when woven together, they create a tapestry of unimaginable strength. Choose your allies with care, for they will shape your destiny as surely as any technique or treasure.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan studied the empty guest room with a critical eye. The bare wooden walls and stone floor provided an ideal neutral foundation for alchemy work. There were no lingering spiritual resonances to interfere with delicate processes.

“Remove everything.” Xiulan pointed to the remaining furniture. “Even the wall hangings need to go.”

The servants rushed to comply, carrying out tables and chairs while others carefully rolled expensive tapestries. Dust motes swirled in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Scrub the floors thoroughly.” Xiulan directed from the doorway. “And wipe down the walls. I need this room completely clean.”

After an hour of intense cleaning, the room stood empty and spotless. The stone floor gleamed with a dull sheen, and the wooden walls gave off a fresh scent from the cleaning. She waved in the servants with a new set of carefully selected tables, counters, and cabinets.

Xiulan unpacked her new supplies from the Treasure Pavilion, arranging each item with methodical precision. The pill furnace dominated the center of the room, its bronze surface etched with intricate spiritual arrays.

A box of refined spiritual charcoal sat ready beside the furnace.

The jar of spiritual water caught the light, its contents shimmering with ethereal energy.

Three qi-sealing containers lined up against the wall, their protective seals glowing faintly.

The mortar and pestle of spirit-imbued stone took its place on a low table, its smooth surface cool to the touch.

Twelve jars of purification herbs formed a neat array, each labeled with precise characters.

A pouch of spirit-infused grinding sand waited beside the mortar.

The small brazier for alchemical preparations stood ready near the furnace.

A set of spirit-reinforced measuring vials completed the basic setup.

Xiulan placed her precious blood lotus and earth heart roots into two of the qi-seal jars. I’ll need more storage containers soon if I plan to build a proper ingredient collection.

Finally, she arranged eighteen spirit stones on a wide ceramic plate, their soft glow casting gentle shadows across the room’s new workspace.

Xiulan frowned at the coarse spirit-infused sand. She was going to need to grind it before she could even start.

She settled cross-legged on the floor with the mortar and pestle, channeling qi into her hands. The stone tools felt cool against her palms as she began grinding. Each circular motion required precise pressure—too much would damage the sand, too little would fail to refine it.

“Definitely should have haggled harder,” Xiulan muttered, watching another patch of impurities burn away from the glowing grains. The repetitive motion made her shoulders ache, but she maintained the steady rhythm. The aching was probably all in her head, anyway.

An hour passed. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she poured continuous streams of qi into the grinding process. Finally, the last impure grains crumbled away, leaving behind a fine powder that sparkled like captured sunlight.

It was worth every moment of the tedious work.

She deposited her precious product into a small ceramic container without cleaning the mortar itself.

Now for the Earth Reinforcement Pill. Xiulan reached for fresh paper and an ink set. The recipe floated hazily in her memory, not as familiar as the Meridian Opening Pill she’d practiced countless times. Better to write it down properly.

She dipped her brush in ink and began recording each step, pausing occasionally to search her memories. Details surfaced slowly—she almost forgot a few things, too. Yeah, this was a good idea.

With the complete recipe in front of her, confidence replaced uncertainty. “Let’s do this right the first time,” Xiulan whispered, surveying her workspace.

She arranged the brazier first, positioning it beside the pill furnace. A clean cutting board came next, along with sharp kitchen knives she’d borrowed. The simple steel blades would suffice—earth-heart roots required crushing more than precise cutting.

Xiulan opened the jar containing the roots, selecting one with a crystalline core that vibrated with earthy energy. She carefully placed it on the cutting board.

The root pulsed with a soft emerald glow as she brought the knife down in precise, measured cuts. Each cube sparkled with concentrated earth essence as it separated from the whole.

She transferred the glowing cubes into the spirit-infused mortar. The leftover grinding sand from earlier sparkled against the dark stone—no need to add more.

The pestle moved in smooth, practiced motions as she ground the root into a fine powder. Earth essence mixed with the shimmering sand, creating an ethereal display of golden and emerald light that danced across her face.

When it was half processed, she turned to the array of purification herbs.

The ginseng root emanated steady earth qi, while the ironweed leaf carried traces of mineral essence. The stone orchid completed the trio with its grounding resonance. She measured each into a pot, along with exactly one liter of water.

That went atop the alchemical brazier to boil. A single spirit charcoal provided the steady flame at a measured rate.

While the hourglass measured time, Xiulan returned to her workstation. The knife cleaned easily under her practiced hands before she continued grinding the earth heart powder to an even finer consistency.

Two turns of the hourglass later, she carefully drained the purified liquid into a thick-walled container. Steam rose in lazy spirals as the mixture cooled on the side table.

Steam curled from the herb-infused water as it cooled in the pot. Xiulan settled into a light meditation stance, letting her qi settle after the intense grinding work. An hour passed in peaceful silence as the liquid’s temperature dropped.

A bittersweet memory flickered through her mind—Mei Chen eagerly helping with the tea. An image of her friend using her icy fingers to cool things off rapidly flashed by. The thought brought a painful mix of laughter and grief. I’m terrible.

Xiulan moved to test the water with a quick touch. Perfect. She retrieved a glass dropper, carefully measuring three drops of spirit-infused water into the herbal mixture. Blue energy blazed through the liquid, illuminating the workspace with ethereal light.

Taking one of the spirit stones, she placed it in the power slot of the furnace and activated its array. It lit up with blue energy along the golden formation inlays. The glowing mixture went in first. The earth heart root powder followed in a steady stream as she stirred methodically to prevent clumps from forming.

Spiritual charcoal clicked into place in a slide-out chamber beneath the furnace. Xiulan pressed her palms against the metal surface, channeling qi through the ancient formation arrays. Spirit stones would work faster, but they cost too much to waste when I can do this myself.

Energy flowed from her hands in a steady stream. The furnace hummed with power as heat built inside. Pure white steam escaped through the ventilation holes while the formation field contained the precious essence within.

Maintaining the precise flow rate demanded intense concentration. Each minute stretched as she focused on keeping the energy perfectly steady.

This makes excellent qi control practice.

The hourglass marked a full hour. Xiulan released her qi flow and opened the small access door. A single brown pill rolled out onto her palm. Success!

She activated the furnace’s purge function. A solid chunk of blackened waste dropped onto the table with a dull thud—all the spent and useless material separated cleanly.

She held up the Earth Reinforcement Pill toward one of the lantern lights. The pill looked utterly ordinary. Well, it was one of the most basic pills. What had she expected? She wasn’t even sure if there was a golden version of it.

That takes care of things for Ren Chun.

Xiulan adjusted her light silk robe and settled onto a cushion at the low table. Steam rose from her teacup, carrying hints of jasmine through her bedroom.

The familiar scent brought a moment of peace after the long day of taking care of Mei Chen, meeting with Qingfeng, clapping arrogant young masters, cooking, and alchemy work.

Ugh, it was the most loaded day so far, maybe. Enough to leave her head wooly, even with her cultivator’s endurance.

She unrolled a detailed map across the polished wood, securing the corners with small weights. The parchment displayed the territories between Blackmere and Dawn Valley in precise detail. Next to it, she placed a scroll about dawn serpents.

A surprised laugh escaped her lips. The creatures exactly matched what she remembered from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles: massive scaled beasts that players had to defeat for quests and experience—but harvesting their scales while the beasts were alive? That element never existed in the game.

Her finger traced eastward along the map, crossing through two counties before reaching Fershere. The territory sprawled across craggy mountains where mining operations dotted the landscape. Most of the region consisted of bare rock and steep cliffs, except for one notable feature—Dawn Forest.

It was nestled in a mountain valley, surrounding a permanent lake. Despite the abundant water source, no mortal settlements existed there. The territory was just inside the wilds, making it too dangerous for anyone without cultivation abilities to survive.

Xiulan sat back and took another sip of tea. The journey would require at least a week of travel, assuming perfect conditions. Then there remained the trek from Fershere’s city to the forest itself. Add in time to actually collect the scales...

Two to three weeks, minimum. She drummed her fingers on the table.

The timeline stayed within Mei Chen’s safe range, but anxiety still gnawed at Xiulan’s stomach. She traced the route again, calculating distances and potential delays.

Feng Yu’s help would make a significant difference, though the thought of bringing both her and Ren Chun flickered through her mind.

But she still didn’t know what it would take to acquire the thunder root. Qingfeng hadn’t offered her information on it, so that was difficult to plan. She didn’t have any other developed connections to advise her.

She’d probably need help with that, too. Better to keep Ren Chun in reserve, then.

Xiulan leaned back against the cushioned wall, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. The silk of her robe whispered against the fabric as she adjusted her posture.

The Treasure Pavilion missions served two purposes: strengthening vital relationships while working toward Mei Chen’s cure. But surviving the looming catastrophe would require more substantial backing. Her knowledge of future events remained frustratingly incomplete.

Four seals. One lawful kingdom deity spirit. A princess at the center of it all. Xiulan rubbed her temples as she recalled the game’s lore fragments. The broken seals had shattered the deity’s protection, leaving the kingdom defenseless against the swarm of evil cultivators who descended like locusts to devour everything in their path.

It was a bog standard tragedy tale just meant to be the background for the chaos players were shoved into.

She had no idea what the princess looked like, and a parchment listing all the imperial family members had no “Phoenix Princess” on it at all. She didn’t even bother going through the list of names because it was two pages long. The emperor had two dozen concubines and seemed to be very vigorous.

Unless something killed all the emperor’s sons in the next few years, there wasn’t even a crown princess.

Xiulan stared at the map, its carefully inked borders representing a realm that would cease to exist unless she found a way to change its fate.

She traced a finger along the map’s edge where one crucial detail burned in her mind. At least one seal lived inside the princess herself. The lore had made that clear—three broken seals, and then the death of the princess and the last seal inside of her had ended things.

Xiulan pressed her palms against the cool wooden table. Breaking past Body Refinement stood as just the first hurdle. Qi gathering would follow along with selecting an elemental path, and finally beginning Qi Refinement. Only then could she even contemplate addressing the seal situation.

Five years stretched ahead—an eternity in mortal terms, but barely a blink in cultivation time. The game’s lore painted a glacial progression through the stages, yet players advanced at an accelerated pace. If she could somehow mirror that progression...

A year or two at one of the major schools might accelerate her advancement, but entry posed its own challenges. The schools accepted only the most promising candidates through a single annual test. Worse, all four academies conducted their trials simultaneously, forcing applicants to make their choice.

“Ugh.” Xiulan tugged at her hair, twisting the strands between her fingers; the weight of future knowledge pressed against her skull like a vise.

At least she’d begun building a network. Master Qingfeng provided valuable guidance. Ren Chun offered martial expertise. And Feng Yu seemed like she’d be a potential friend, too.

And, of course, Mei Chen—when she was saved.

Four young heroes to challenge fate?

Xiulan shook her head sharply, dispersing the swirling thoughts. The cool night air drifted through her window, carrying the scent of blooming spring. She rolled the map with precise movements, tucking it away in its leather case.

One step at a time. The immediate challenges loomed large enough without drowning in far-future concerns. Dawn serpent scales and thunder roots posed deadly enough threats without adding the weight of kingdom-saving schemes.

Master Qingfeng’s promised tool would arrive within a day or two. That gave her time to focus on some more training. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet as she crossed to her bed.

Martial arts beckoned. It was a glaring blind spot, and she needed to at least be able to not get stabbed in three seconds, even if she focused on other things.

Maybe she could convince one of her new allies to properly teach her a qinggong skill? The silk sheets whispered against her skin as she slipped under the covers.

Xiulan grabbed her pillow and hugged it close. The memory of Feng Yu and Ren Chun’s laughter echoed in her mind—their shared amusement at Chun’s description of her clumsy attempts at Water Stepping Foot. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she buried her face in the pillow.

Just wait. She’d master as many techniques as she could learn or make up on her own. Then they’d see who laughed last.

Potential Clouds

True friendship in cultivation is as rare as phoenix feathers. When found, it must be treasured like the most precious spiritual pearl, for in the pursuit of the dao, having someone to share both victories and setbacks with can mean the difference between breakthrough and stagnation.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

The morning sun cast long shadows across the city manor’s courtyard as Ren Chun struck a dramatic pose.

“Did you think I’d sit around here and pine away for you to return? No! I have to go on a quest! For justice!” Ren Chun punched the air with enthusiasm.

Xiulan exchanged a bewildered glance with Feng Yu. The cool morning breeze rustled through the courtyard’s cherry blossoms, scattering pink petals around them. “I thought you’d stay around for at least a day or two to help me train.”

Ren Chun jabbed a finger toward Xiulan. “Ha! There you go, assuming other people’s time like the world revolves around you! Even if you are a county princess, you should know better now! If you had asked me yesterday, I would have made time, but I’ve had an epiphany and must go cultivate it!”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. “You’re right. I apologize for assuming.”

“I thought you wanted to finish our duel later,” Feng Yu said, adjusting her sleeves.

Ren Chun spun toward her, finger tracking the movement. “Ha! You replaced me in a single day. Just because you’re good with a sword and have a pretty face doesn’t mean you deceive me!”

A pink flush spread across Feng Yu’s cheeks as she stared at him in obvious confusion.

Xiulan pulled the earth pill from her sleeve pouch, its polished brown surface gleaming in the morning light. “This is yours regardless, according to our deal.”

Ren Chun snatched the pill and thrust it skyward. Sunlight sparkled off its surface as he examined it with wide eyes. “Amazing! So you aren’t a fraud!”

“So, about the training—” Xiulan started.

Ren Chun thrust his palm toward her face. “No way! I have my special quest now. I’ll come back and see if you’re around later.” The morning sunlight glinted off the pill in his other hand as he bounced on his heels.

Xiulan crossed her arms. “The dawn scale mission will take weeks.”

“Weeks? A mere breeze of time!” Ren Chun puffed out his chest. “Plus, my quest is pretty big. I’m going to finish my bone reinforcement!”

“I hope you prepared enough painkillers.” Feng Yu shifted beside Xiulan.

Ren Chun winced and studied the Earth Reinforcement Pill. “At least this will help some. But I’m not totally without resources—I’ll manage. Been planning this for a while, just didn’t have enough spirit stones before. Now I do!”

Cherry blossoms drifted around them as Xiulan smiled. “Thank you for helping with the blood lotus. When you’re done, I hope you’ll come back and show off your progress.”

“Ha ha. Of course!” Ren Chun spun on his heel and waved without looking back as he strode through the main gate.

Feng Yu turned to Xiulan. “Is he always like that?”

Xiulan watched the gate where Ren Chun had disappeared, considering her words carefully. “Sometimes. Though I suspect he’s not quite as naïve as he wants people to think.” She smiled. “But he’s okay.”

“Sometimes that might be a defense mechanism.” Feng Yu brushed a fallen petal from her sleeve.

Xiulan clasped her hands behind her back and stepped closer to Feng Yu, putting on her most winning smile. “So... about that training? We can’t leave until the scale collecting tool arrives anyway...” She batted her eyelashes for good measure.

“Hah...” Feng Yu sighed and shook her head, though a slight smile tugged at her lips. “Okay. I suppose we can spar?”

Xiulan nodded eagerly and turned toward the clear area near the residence entrance. The morning sun warmed her face as they walked away from the gate. “I’d love to practice sparring for sure, but I was also hoping you could help me with some qinggong?”

Feng Yu stopped abruptly, her boots scuffing against the stone path. “Qinggong?” Her brows drew together in a deep frown. “That’s a bit too much, isn’t it? Sparring is one thing, but qinggong and qi techniques?”

Xiulan spread her hands in a pleading gesture. “I only know Water Stepping Foot, and apparently, I’ve been doing that wrong this whole time.”

Feng Yu’s frown deepened, creating small creases between her brows.

“Besides, Ren Chun helped teach me without issue.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “And I’ll make you that Fire Reinforcement Pill as promised. We’re going to work together anyway—wouldn’t it be better if I’m skilled enough to not be a burden?”

A cool breeze swept across the courtyard as they settled onto the covered balcony outside the residence. Petals danced past their feet while sparrows chirped in the nearby trees.

“But...” Pink crept up Feng Yu’s neck. “We just met, and teaching qi techniques is... intimate.”

“Intimate?” Xiulan blinked rapidly. “What do you mean? Ren Chun taught me, and it seemed perfectly normal.”

The pink on Feng Yu’s neck blazed into a full crimson flush across her face. “I-I actually thought you two were a couple after hearing about it. I didn’t realize you were just quest companions.”

“C-couple?” Xiulan sputtered, nearly choking on air. “But Master Qingfeng taught me several things as well!”

Feng Yu shook her head, some of her composure returning. “That’s different—masters naturally teach their disciples. Their cultivation level towers so high above that we are just a mere raindrop to them. But between people of similar age and cultivation...” She smoothed her robes. “The connotations are entirely different.”

Heat blazed across Xiulan’s cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek, then sprang to her feet. “Ren Chun! I’ll show you some justice!”

The clatter of porcelain made her spin around. A wide-eyed servant stood frozen with a tea service, the cups rattling against their saucers. Xiulan cleared her throat and took the tray, focusing on the familiar motions of preparing tea to calm her racing pulse.

Feng Yu pressed delicate fingers against her lips, but couldn’t quite contain her musical laugh. After a deep breath, she lowered her hand. “Alright. I’ll teach you some qinggong. It would help the mission go smoother.”

“But you just said that it was—”

Feng Yu shook her head, sending ripples through her sandy brown hair. “It’s fine. You’re interesting enough already to be my martial sister.”

Ice crystallized in Xiulan’s veins. The word “sister” echoed through her mind like a death knell as cold sweat trickled down her neck. “S-sister.”

Feng Yu darted forward and clasped Xiulan’s hand between her warm palms. “I apologize! With everything happening, I forgot about... I shouldn’t have mentioned family.”

The gentle pressure of Feng Yu’s hands anchored Xiulan to the present moment. “No, no, it’s fine. That’s not...” The words died in her throat as memories flooded her mind.

Sister. The word sparked something dark and visceral inside her chest. Qian’s sneering face flashed through her thoughts, followed by Fei’s mocking smile. Even Suyin’s betrayal burned fresh in her memory. Each image carried a weight of bitterness that threatened to choke her.

Xiulan pulled her hand free and straightened her spine. “But martial sister? That seems rather intense. Do you make everyone you meet your sister after a single day?”

Feng Yu settled back onto her cushion, amber eyes studying Xiulan with keen interest. “You possess remarkable talent. Your meridian cultivation shows promise, and you create spiritual techniques with startling intuition. Not to mention your budding skills in alchemy.”

She lifted her tea cup, steam curling around her fingers. “Like Ren Chun’s martial prowess, your abilities stand out. Building connections with talented peers of our generation makes sense for the future.”

Xiulan suppressed a wince. Talent? The Golden Meridian Opening Pill had done all the work. Following the precise steps and timing to create it hadn’t required special skill—just expensive materials and careful attention to detail. And the memories of a certain game-obsessed Earth girl named Li Mei…

Xiulan traced the rim of her teacup with a finger. “I’d be honored to be your martial sister. Truth is, I don’t have any backing or...” The words caught in her throat. “Many friends. My knowledge of cultivation comes mainly from observation and trial and error.”

Steam curled between them as they sipped their tea. The gentle clinking of cups against saucers filled a brief lull.

“But… surely Master Qingfeng guided you through the fundamentals before your breakthrough?” Feng Yu set her cup down with practiced grace.

“I broke through on my own.” Xiulan stared into her tea. “Before that, Qingfeng didn’t teach me anything at all.”

The cup in Feng Yu’s hand froze halfway to her lips. Her amber eyes widened as she blinked rapidly. “On... your own?”

Xiulan nodded, her fingers tracing the delicate pattern on her teacup. “I took a Golden Meridian Opening Pill.”

The quiet rustle of Feng Yu’s robes accompanied her sharp intake of breath as she leaned back. Sunlight caught the amber flecks in her eyes. “How did you find a peerless treasure like that?”

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. “It was a bit of fate.”

Feng Yu tilted her head. “Does Ren Chun know?”

“It never really came up.” Xiulan shook her head.

Feng Yu hummed softly, a thoughtful sound that mixed with the gentle chirping of nearby sparrows. “Maybe he thinks you like him, then. Maybe he’s courting you for his future wife?”

Tea sprayed across the wooden planks as Xiulan choked mid-sip. “What!”

Feng Yu’s laughter rang across the courtyard like silver bells. “I’m just teasing!” She wiped tears from her eyes.

The mirth faded from her face as quickly as it appeared, replaced by an intense stare that made Xiulan’s skin prickle. “Or am I? Perhaps you’ll need to break his heart in the future.”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck as she gripped her teacup. “What... what? Why would I need to turn him down?” Not that she was considering accepting any advances, either!

A predatory smile spread across Feng Yu’s face. “Because I’m claiming you first!”

The teacup slipped from Xiulan’s fingers, clattering against the saucer. “Whaaaat?”

“As martial sister, of course!” Feng Yu bounced on her cushion. “I’ll teach you everything about cultivation, and you’ll make all the fire pills I need!”

Xiulan peered over the rim of her hastily recovered teacup. “I’m not your alchemy slave!”

“Of course not!” Feng Yu’s grin widened as cherry blossoms swirled between them on the morning breeze. “You’re my alchemy sister!”

Xiulan traced the rim of her teacup. “Aren’t you being a bit too greedy?”

Feng Yu tilted her head back and drained her tea in a single gulp. The empty cup clattered against the saucer as she set it down with a triumphant grin. “I’m the greediest person in the world! I want so much that my friends can have plenty, too.”

Feng Yu turned toward the sky. The playful energy drained from her eyes, replaced by a distant longing that made her seem older than her years.

“We’re just small roots climbing up an infinitely tall cliff.” Feng Yu’s words carried on the gentle breeze. “We won’t get far alone.”

The weight of those words settled in Xiulan’s chest as Feng Yu spun back around. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her clasped hands, amber eyes sparkling with renewed mischief. “Maybe I’ll go talk to Master Qingfeng myself after we finish training.”

The words sparked fresh anxiety. What did Feng Yu plan to discuss with Qingfeng? The morning sun suddenly felt less warm as unease settled in her stomach.

Something had shifted during their conversation, but Xiulan couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or how.

One moment they’d been equals, and now... now she felt like a stray kitten that had been scooped up by an overly enthusiastic mother cat.

Cultivating Flutter

True mastery comes not from perfect pathways, but from understanding the imperfections in our cultivation. Each blockage teaches us patience, each detour grants us wisdom, and each struggle shapes our destiny.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan sprawled across the packed dirt of the city manor courtyard, chest heaving as she stared at the drifting clouds overhead. Her spear lay just beyond her fingertips, the wooden shaft still warm. Sweat trickled down her temples despite the cool afternoon breeze.

Feng Yu’s face appeared above her, blocking out the sun. “I can’t believe how terrible your endurance is.”

“Aaaaah.” Xiulan expelled a long breath. “I haven’t exactly had time to work off a lifetime of idleness and easy living.”

“How old are you?” Feng Yu’s eyebrow arched skeptically.

“Uh, sixteen, I think?” Xiulan paused, mental calculations spinning. Twenty-four as Li Mei plus sixteen as Xiulan... twenty? Forty? The math made her head hurt worse than the training. Twenty seemed right, but her current body was definitely sixteen.

“Yes, sixteen.”

A predatory smile spread across Feng Yu’s face. “So I’m a year older than you, little martial sister. Just listen to your big sister now—every time you start moving, you forget to breathe properly. That’s ruining your endurance because it’s choking off your qi flow.”

Xiulan pushed herself up to sitting, muscles protesting. “I know that’s the problem! But how am I supposed to breathe when you’re swinging your sword at me nine hundred times per second while chasing me around? This isn’t training—you’re just torturing me!”

“But this is how I was taught.” Feng Yu scratched her chin thoughtfully. “And I’m not actually that fast yet!”

Yet? If she even gets close to that number, it’ll break the sound barrier and blow everything up.

Xiulan climbed to her feet, brushing dirt from her training clothes. “And how many years did it take before you got anywhere? We only have today before we leave.”

“Good point.” Feng Yu brightened. “How about we focus on qinggong instead? You can run away while I fight things.”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips as she contemplated more “training” with her enthusiastic new martial sister.

“I’d love to learn how to jump around and move faster,” Xiulan said. Her muscles still ached, but those pains flowed away quickly as her qi flowed better with her regained breath.

Feng Yu strode to the nearby table and snatched up two cushions. She placed them on the ground facing each other. “Sit.”

Xiulan settled onto one cushion, crossing her legs. The fabric felt cool against her sweaty skin. Feng Yu mirrored her position and reached across the space between them. Her hands clasped Xiulan’s, warm and soft despite years of sword training.

“You know basic cultivation meditation, right?” Feng Yu asked.

“Uh...” Xiulan hesitated.

“Oh, come on.” Feng Yu squeezed her hands. “You’ve been using qi techniques. You must know the basics. Close your eyes and focus on your meridian flow.”

The request clicked into place. Xiulan closed her eyes, sinking into the familiar meditation state. Her qi flowed smoothly in a continuous circuit through the five main meridians, each breath maintaining the harmony—inhale drawing energy in, exhale pushing any excess through the system and out of her body. The dantian pool in her core radiated warmth at her center.

“Exactly.” Pride colored Feng Yu’s words. “Good job.”

Heat bloomed in Xiulan’s palms, followed by an alien energy that crept through her hand meridians. The sensation burned red-hot against her own starry blue qi, making her skin tingle. She yanked her hands back, breaking contact.

“That was me.” Feng Yu tilted her head. “Did it startle you?”

“A bit.” Xiulan flexed her tingling fingers. “I’ve felt something similar with Mei Chen when—” She stopped short as Feng Yu leaned forward, amber eyes intent. The realization struck that she’d kept Mei Chen’s condition mostly private, sharing only with Master Qingfeng.

“My friend suffers from an illness.” Xiulan chose her words carefully. “She produces too much yin energy. I provide qi to help stabilize her condition.” The simplified explanation felt inadequate to describe Mei Chen’s state between life and death. “Master Qingfeng watches over her while I complete the missions to help her recover.”

“You have a lot going on, don’t you?” Feng Yu extended her hands again. “Sharing qi flow makes technique learning easier—you’ll feel everything through your own meridians.” A pink flush spread across her cheeks. “That’s what makes it intimate.”

“Ren Chun’s method differed.” Xiulan traced the memory of their training sessions. “He tracked my qi flow but only pointed out mistakes.”

“Huh.” Feng Yu’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Maybe he didn’t want you feeling what he felt? Seems rather one-sided.” She wiggled her outstretched fingers invitingly. “Ready to try again?”

Xiulan drew a steadying breath and reached out to clasp Feng Yu’s hands again. Her qi quivered within her meridians like ripples across a disturbed pond, betraying her nervousness.

“Relax.” Feng Yu’s amber eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m not going to eat you.”

Closing her eyes, Xiulan pictured her meridian network, starry blue lines tracing through her body in familiar patterns. The alien heat trickled into her palm again. Instead of pulling away, she tracked its progress as it followed her qi flow like a glowing thread, circling through her pathways before exiting through her other palm.

A gasp escaped her lips as some of her own qi slipped free, flowing unbidden into Feng Yu’s meridians. The sensation pulled her awareness along, revealing an intricate network unlike her own.

Feng Yu’s qi burned like contained fire, radiating intense warmth through four open meridians. Smaller pathways branched and wound between them in complex detours, creating an elaborate labyrinth for the energy to traverse.

The journey through Feng Yu’s system stretched far longer than her own direct routes. When their qi finally completed the circuit, the two distinct streams flowed between them—fire and starlight intertwined.

“Ha... ha...” Feng Yu’s eyes widened. “So, this is the power of the Golden Meridian Opening Pill. Your qi flows are truly peerless.”

Xiulan sensed the shift in Feng Yu’s qi—a darkening of the warm flames into something heavier, sharper. The other girl’s amber eyes flickered with naked envy. Xiulan instinctively pulled back, but Feng Yu’s grip tightened, holding their connection steady.

“I’m just human too.” Feng Yu drew a steadying breath. “Let me show you the Two Heavenly Steps technique.”

The fire-bright qi flowing between them changed, pooling at specific points along Xiulan’s meridians. The careful precision of each placement drew a map in her awareness—ankle, knee, hip, shoulder. Red energy pulsed through their joined hands, flooding Xiulan’s pathways with alien warmth that settled into those same critical junctions.

Each inhale brought Feng Yu’s essence deeper into her system. The qi burned like cinnamon and cloves across her tongue, spicy-sweet and impossibly intimate. Their breaths synchronized as the technique’s pattern etched itself into Xiulan’s mind with crystalline clarity. The precise arrangement of energy flows formed a template she could never forget.

“Open your eyes,” Feng Yu whispered.

Xiulan’s eyelids fluttered open. The training yard tilted oddly beneath them—because they hovered a foot above their cushions. Her stomach lurched at the strange sensation of weightlessness.

Feng Yu planted her feet on the packed earth, guiding Xiulan down with their still-clasped hands. A gentle squeeze preceded her nod toward the compound gate. “Heavenly Steps is about picking a spot and moving to it perfectly.”

“What do you mean?” The residual qi from their connection tingled through Xiulan’s meridians.

The answer came not in words but action.

The charged qi in Xiulan’s pathways activated with a snap. Everything blurred. Wind whipped past her face as they jolted toward the gate faster than her mind could process.

Before she could catch her breath, another surge of energy launched them sideways.

“Two steps.” Feng Yu released her hands.

Xiulan puffed out her cheeks, trying to settle her churning stomach from the instantaneous movement. The distance they’d covered in mere heartbeats would have taken dozens of normal steps.

“It goes a lot higher than two steps, but this is the first to learn.” Feng Yu brushed dirt from her robes. “You can use it while moving, falling, anything. But qi barriers or solid objects will stop you cold. Get it wrong, and you’ll smash yourself into things.”

“That’s still really...” Xiulan paused, searching for words to describe the incredible technique. “A lot better than I thought.”

A predatory grin spread across Feng Yu’s face. “Now it’s your turn.”

“What?” Xiulan’s eyes widened.

“Trying while I’m here to help is the best plan.” Feng Yu squeezed Xiulan’s hands encouragingly.

“Hah, okay.” Xiulan closed her eyes and concentrated on directing her qi flow. Tiny specks of red energy from Feng Yu guided her own starry blue qi, nudging it into precise configurations through her meridians. The foreign warmth tingled as it traced the correct pathways. “Is that right?”

“Yes, but you need to do mine too, or we’ll rip apart—and trust me, that would hurt.” Feng Yu’s amber eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Oh, right.” Xiulan focused on threading her qi through Feng Yu’s system.

The convoluted pathways twisted and turned like a maze, causing her energy to stutter and stall. Feng Yu attempted to guide the wandering thread, but it snagged on a dozen different blockages before reaching even the first point.

Frustration bubbled up in Xiulan’s chest. Why did these pathways need such complexity? Her qi bumped against another minor blockage. Instead of following the winding detour, she shoved her energy straight through.

“What...” Feng Yu gasped.

The second point filled. Xiulan pressed forward, forcing her qi through the obstacles. Pop. Pop. Pop. Her energy threaded rapidly between the designated points, ignoring the prescribed paths completely before returning to her own meridians.

Feng Yu’s fingers clenched around Xiulan’s hands. She released a sharp puff of air.

Xiulan frowned. “Is it wrong?”

“Try it out.” Feng Yu drew a measured breath. “Just focus on the two spots and release at once.”

The world blurred into streaks of color as Xiulan’s qi surged through the designated points. One heartbeat they stood by the gate, the next they materialized across the courtyard. The technique pulled at her meridians with each jump, leaving tingling aftershocks in its wake.

“Great job!” Feng Yu panted, doubling over slightly. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Are you okay?” Xiulan steadied her own breathing against the rush of movement.

Feng Yu nodded and released their joined hands. The connection between them unraveled like a loosened thread, her fiery qi dissolving into Xiulan’s cooler flow. Pink crept across Feng Yu’s cheeks as she straightened.

“I just didn’t expect...” Feng Yu dabbed at her forehead with her sleeve. “When you opened those blockages so suddenly...”

“They felt really bothersome.” Xiulan flexed her fingers where the phantom sensation of their shared qi still lingered. “We both seemed frustrated trying to work around them.”

“They were.” Feng Yu nodded again. “They definitely were.”

“Why so many blockages?” Xiulan rubbed her palms.

Feng Yu sighed. “Not everyone gets a Golden Meridian Opening Pill.”

She crossed her arms. “Most cultivators unlock their paths with a master’s help and inferior pills, or even manually with just their dantian and qi pressure. You started with everything pristine and perfect.”

A trace of envy crept into her voice. “The rest of us work through the body refining step by step—clearing meridians, strengthening ourselves. You only need to focus on your body.”

“Oh.” Xiulan frowned. “But if I could help clear those blockages, why didn’t your master do it for you?”

“They make us learn the hard way.” Feng Yu pouted at Xiulan. “And apparently that golden pill makes you an expert at that, too. What a cheat.”

“Also...” Pink bloomed across Feng Yu’s cheeks, spreading into a deep crimson. She waved her hands frantically. “Just... it’s... don’t do it with just anyone, okay? It’s intimate! There are connotations! Don’t do it!”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. “Okay, okay!” She cleared her throat. “But why doesn’t everyone just use a golden pill?”

Feng Yu’s jaw dropped. “Everyone use a—how would we get them?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I only know of one, traded for a heavenly dragon spirit sword years ago.”

Feng Yu peered at her. “Master alchemists spend centuries trying to recreate it. They go bankrupt before succeeding! Maybe Flameheart Sanctum knows the recipe, but they would keep it as one of their school treasures, hidden in a vault.”

Oh. Xiulan’s stomach clenched. Actually, that sounded familiar. Hadn’t she come on the recipe timing and method when looting fragments from that very school’s ruins?

Her game knowledge wasn’t just useful—it was priceless. Master Qingfeng’s request... was she in danger?

Feng Yu wrapped an arm around Xiulan’s shoulders. “You did great learning the technique. I’m sure this was better than that dumb Ren Chun’s attempt!”

Xiulan smiled and nodded, but her thoughts raced with concerns about the value of her modern memories.

She glanced around the courtyard, measuring the distance they’d covered. “The qinggong surprised me, though. It’s impressive, but different from what I imagined.”

“What do you mean?” Feng Yu tilted her head.

“I thought qinggong would let me jump across rooftops and float between things.” Xiulan gestured vaguely at the surrounding buildings. The instant-movement technique still left her meridians tingling with residual energy. “This teleporting step thing seems way more advanced than what I expected.”

Feng Yu pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but failed to contain her laughter. The sound rang across the courtyard like wind chimes.

“What?” Xiulan blinked. The qi in her meridians pulsed with uncertainty.

“That’s the most basic thing ever.” Feng Yu lowered her hand, amber eyes sparkling. “Just wrap qi around your body and push in whatever direction you want to go. Can that even count as qinggong?”

The blood drained from Xiulan’s face. Her mouth fell open as the implications sank in. “It’s that easy?”

“I need a drink.” Feng Yu shook her head, sandy brown hair swaying with the motion. “My new little martial sister stands so crooked with her skills and knowledge. Any more lopsided, and you’ll topple without touching a drop of liquor.”

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. “Hey!” She bit her lower lip, fighting back embarrassment.

A commotion erupted at the gates. They both turned toward the sound of creaking wagon wheels and clanking metal. Two guards escorted a cart bearing an enormous bronze bell—no, not quite a bell. The metallic construct resembled an oversized pill furnace, although it was strangely different.

“Is that the dawn serpent scale collection array?” Feng Yu bounced on her toes.

“I... guess so?” Xiulan scratched her head. “Nothing else should arrive today.”

A Treasure Pavilion servant approached with measured steps and offered a crisp salute. “Miss Lin, Master Qingfeng’s requested item has arrived.” He extended a wooden scroll case. “The usage methods are detailed within. The master wishes you and your companions good fortune in your endeavor.”

Feng Yu darted to the wagon before Xiulan could respond. She scaled the wooden sides with practiced grace and rapped her knuckles against the bronze surface. The hollow echo rang across the courtyard.

Xiulan gaped as her martial sister climbed atop the massive device. “What are you—”

“This will be awkward to carry.” Feng Yu balanced on the curved surface. “The size alone makes it top-heavy. It’ll throw off your balance when you’re wearing it.”

“Wearing it?” Xiulan’s stomach dropped. “How could anyone possibly—” The implications hit her like a hammer strike. They needed to haul this monstrosity up a mountain. Through a forest.

Master Qingfeng hadn’t mentioned a word about transporting such an enormous piece of equipment.

Why didn’t he warn me about this? Is everything a test? The thought echoed as she stared at the impractical collection device.

At least they could prepare and head for Fershere the next morning.

Violent Wash

Fire cleanses all, but those who wield it must take care not to burn what they meant to protect. The strongest cultivators know when to unleash their power and when to hold it in check.
—Sage Wei Huang, Keeper of the First Flame

Rain drummed against the barn’s wooden roof, each drop echoing through the musty air. Xiulan pulled her cloak tighter, water dripping from the edges of her hood and running cold trails down her neck as she watched the stablemen secure the wagon with thick hemp ropes.

Feng Yu strode forward once the men finished, producing a yellowed talisman paper from her sleeve. With a practiced motion, she channeled qi into her fingertip until it glowed like an ember. The paper crackled as she traced a burning symbol across its surface.

The talisman slapped against the metal with a wet thud. “Listen carefully.” Feng Yu’s amber eyes locked onto the stable hands. “Anyone who touches this wagon burns to death. Understand?”

The stablemen’s faces paled. They dropped into hurried bows, nearly stumbling over each other as they scrambled backward through puddles and hay.

Xiulan followed Feng Yu out into the downpour, their boots squelching in the mud. “What if it actually triggers?” Xiulan asked as the inn’s weathered walls poked through the gray curtain of rain. “A fire would destroy everything.”

Feng Yu’s laugh cut through the drumming raindrops. “Just a bluff. That talisman will just make a piercing shriek.” She shrugged, sending water cascading from her shoulders. “Enough to wake the whole inn, but no flames.”

“Smart.” Xiulan ducked under the inn’s covered entrance, shaking water from her cloak. “Talismans, though—could you teach me about those later?”

“Of course.” Feng Yu wrung water from her hair. “I have some cheap blank papers we can practice with. Fair warning, I only know a handful of basic forms.”

The inn’s common room buzzed with activity. Laborers hunched over bowls of steaming food, their clothes still damp from the rain outside. Xiulan noted how they pressed against the walls and tables, creating a clear path as she and Feng Yu approached the bar, the sharp scent of rice wine mixing with woodsmoke from the hearth.

The innkeeper bowed deeply, his weathered hands polishing a ceramic cup. “Your room awaits, honored guests. Would you prefer to dine in private or join us here? One tael covers both your meals.”

“In our room—”

“The common room—”

Xiulan turned to Feng Yu, who smiled at their synchronized response.

“The locals might have useful information.” Feng Yu gestured toward the crowded tables. “Even simple gossip can be useful.”

Xiulan eyed the packed room. Workers’ voices overlapped in a constant rumble, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

“Not sure we’ll catch anything useful through all this noise,” Xiulan said, “but I don’t mind staying.” She slapped down a single coin.

The innkeeper set down his cup, and the tael disappeared. “I’ll have your meal brought to your table right away.”

Feng Yu weaved between the crowded tables toward a quieter corner. She selected a small square table tucked against the wall, gesturing to the corner seat with an exaggerated flourish.

“The safest spot for my martial sister.”

“Hah.” Xiulan slid onto the wooden bench. “What dangers lurk in a simple roadside inn?”

A few minutes later, the floorboards creaked under approaching footsteps.

A server balanced a laden tray, setting down steaming plates of braised pork belly in dark sauce, stir-fried water spinach with garlic, and bowls of fragrant congee studded with preserved egg and strips of ginger. Two ceramic cups clinked against the table, followed by an earthenware pitcher of rice wine that smelled strongly fermented.

Xiulan breathed in the aroma of star anise and soy sauce from the dishes. The quality couldn’t match the refined cuisine from Lin Manor’s kitchens, but her stomach growled appreciatively. She retrieved her chopsticks from their cloth wrapping, the worn bamboo smooth against her fingers.

She savored each bite, observing the bustling common room through wisps of steam rising from her congee. Workers laughed and joked, sharing dishes and stories—a scene both foreign and achingly familiar.

Memories of fluorescent lights and plastic trays flickered through her mind. College cafeteria lunches with friends seemed like another lifetime now. In many ways, they were. Those carefree days had ended long before the truck had transported her into this world.

Feng Yu hummed softly while picking at the last bits of braised pork. Her chopsticks froze mid-motion. Xiulan glanced up, eyes sliding over her companion’s shoulder toward the entrance.

Five figures pushed through the door, rain dripping from their dark cloaks. As they lowered their hoods, Xiulan spotted the telltale cut of martial outfits beneath the wet fabric; the outline of sword hilts pressed against the cloth.

“Feng Yu, there—”

A slight shake of Feng Yu’s head silenced her.

The innkeeper scurried toward the newcomers, bowing repeatedly with promises of premium wine and fresh dishes. A serving girl passed by with a tray of empty bowls. One of the men reached out and grabbed her, making crude suggestions about “sampling the women” instead.

The innkeeper guided them to a nearby table, still bowing and scraping. Xiulan’s eyes narrowed as she detected the faint ripple of qi emanating from the group. Cultivators throwing their weight around like common thugs.

She suppressed a sigh. Another group of arrogant cultivators. The encounter with the arrogant young master earlier in the week still irritated her, and now this nonsense.

Across the table, Feng Yu’s hand drifted to her sword belt, loosening the tie before lifting her cup to take a measured sip.

The cultivators’ voices carried across the room, their words slicing through the ambient chatter. “That Blackmere bounty?”

“Waste of time.” Another cultivator snorted. “Too many dogs fighting over one bone.”

“House Chao wouldn’t pay anyway—greedy bastards.”

Their leader slammed his cup down. “Forget that. The real money’s in hunting the hunters.”

Every muscle in Xiulan’s body tensed. Her fingers tightened around her chopsticks as qi instinctively gathered in her meridians.

The cultivator nearest their table turned, his gaze sliding from Xiulan to Feng Yu and back again. A predatory grin split his face. “Hey... speaking of hunters, we’ve got two right here.”

“What?” Their leader pushed back from his table, wooden legs scraping against the floor. He fixed them with a glare that might have intimidated common folk. “Well, well. Quite rude of you ladies not to come say hello.”

Feng Yu raised her cup again, taking another unhurried sip. “Sit down. Trash like you don’t even come up to my knees.”

Ah, fuck. Xiulan exhaled slowly. So much for a quiet meal.

One of the men’s elbows crashed through their table. Splinters and ceramic shards exploded outward as he roared, “What did you just say?!”

Chairs scraped against wooden floorboards as patrons scrambled toward the exits. The acrid stench of fear mixed with spilled wine and food as Xiulan tracked the chaos through narrowed eyes, calculating angles and distances.

“Please, honored cultivators!” The innkeeper dropped to his knees, hands clasped. “My humble establishment cannot—”

The leader’s palm struck with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across wooden panels as the innkeeper sailed through the air, crashing into a rack of wine jugs. The ceramic shattered, dark liquid pooling beneath his motionless form.

Metal sang as Feng Yu drew her blade in one fluid motion. The nearest cultivator jerked backward, a thin red line appearing across his ear. His stumble knocked over another table, sending more bowls clattering across the floor.

Xiulan snatched her spear from its resting place, muscles coiling as she rose. The familiar weight settled into her grip, her qi crackling beneath her skin, begging for release—but the inn’s wooden beams wouldn’t survive that kind of power. The ceiling would collapse, crushing everyone inside.

A blur of motion drew her attention as Feng Yu’s foot connected with another cultivator’s chest. The impact launched him through the outer wall in an explosion of wooden splinters and torn paper. Feng Yu pirouetted, her sword arcing toward the leader’s face.

Two cultivators lunged at Feng Yu’s exposed flanks. Xiulan darted forward, pressing against Feng Yu’s back. Her spear flashed outward, forcing the one on the left to retreat. The weapon’s length kept him at bay while Feng Yu focused on her opponents to the front and right.

Steel clashed as Feng Yu’s blade danced between the three attackers. Each strike rang with precise force, deflecting their swords with masterful control. Xiulan thrust her spear at her own opponent, the weapon’s reach negating his shorter sword’s advantage. He cursed, unable to close the distance.

Movement flickered in her peripheral vision—the cultivator from outside charged through the ragged hole in the wall. Xiulan channeled qi into her foot, slamming it against the floorboards. Water Stepping Foot ripped through the wood floor, sending a jagged spike erupting outward. It impaled the charging cultivator and shredded what remained of the wall.

Feng Yu’s laughter rang out bright and clear, as if they were sharing tea rather than fighting for their lives.

“How can you laugh at a time like this?” Xiulan gritted her teeth, maintaining her defensive stance.

The leader stepped back, spreading his hands with exaggerated casualness. Feng Yu seized the opening, her blade flashing silver through the dim light. A red line appeared across one thug’s throat. He stumbled backward, hands clutching uselessly at the spurting wound.

Xiulan thrust her spear in quick succession, forcing her opponent to retreat. The cultivator circled left, boots crunching over broken pottery. She recognized the tactic—he wanted to flank her. Xiulan pressed back until she felt Feng Yu’s shoulder blades against her own.

Perfect. The idiot had positioned himself away from his allies and with no civilians behind him. Qi surged through Xiulan’s meridians, flooding her palms with swirling energy. She brought her hands together in a thunderous clap. The air itself seemed to compress before exploding outward in a devastating shockwave.

The blast caught her opponent square in the chest. His body sailed through the air like a rag doll, taking the corner of the building with him. Wood splintered and stone cracked; the inn’s frame groaned ominously but held steady.

Xiulan spun to face the remaining threats. A wave of crimson fire rolled toward her, distorting the air with its heat. Feng Yu stepped forward, left hand extended. The flames swirled into her palm like water down a drain. With a grunt of effort, she redirected the inferno upward.

The ceiling erupted into flames. Burning timber rained down as it ignited and spread across the wooden beams.

Ah, fuck.

The leader surged forward with his remaining companion, their blades glinting in the firelight. Feng Yu swept her hand across her sword in a fluid motion. The steel ignited, transforming into a ribbon of living flame.

Well, double fuck. The entire inn would burn at this rate. Heat pressed against Xiulan’s skin as smoke curled toward the ceiling.

The blazing sword proved more than a mere spectacle. Xiulan pivoted to guard Feng Yu’s flank as she swung at the second cultivator. Despite being well beyond striking distance, a crimson arc peeled away from the blade—the fiery afterimage sliced through the air, painting a burning line from the cultivator’s head to groin. His agonized screams pierced through the crackle of flames as he collapsed onto his knees.

Feng Yu’s burning blade intercepted the leader’s desperate charge. Xiulan darted through the opening, driving her spear deep into the kneeling man’s shoulder, impaling him.

Less than a minute had passed since the first blow.

Only the leader remained standing.

Feng Yu unleashed a relentless series of strikes. Each time the leader’s sword blocked her blade, waves of fire rushed past his guard to sear his flesh. A final sweep sent flames cascading across his face. His screams cut short as Feng Yu’s sword separated head from shoulders.

Xiulan couldn’t help but stare as flames backlit Feng Yu’s form, casting her in an otherworldly glow that spoke of power barely contained. One precise swing extinguished the flame on her blade before it disappeared into its sheath. The surrounding inferno seemed to bend away from her, creating a pocket of calm.

Fire raged around them, yet Feng Yu remained eerily composed. The inferno reflected off her amber eyes like distant stars. In an instant, her coldness vanished, replaced by her usual demeanor. She grabbed Xiulan’s hand, the touch startlingly cool despite the surrounding heat, and pulled her toward the exit.

Smoke billowed out behind them as they burst into the rain-soaked night. “Well, so much for resting at the inn...” Xiulan coughed, wiping soot from her face.

“Stay here.” Feng Yu released Xiulan’s hand. “Don’t follow me into the fire.” Before Xiulan could protest, Feng Yu spun and strode back into the blazing building.

“What are you doing?!” Panic surged through Xiulan’s chest as flames engulfed the doorway behind her companion.

“I’m immune to weak flames!” Feng Yu’s voice carried over the roar of the fire.

Xiulan bit her cheek. There wasn’t anything weak about the burning building’s fire!

The shifting orange glow illuminated the other woman’s silhouette as she knelt beside the fallen cultivators, methodically searching their bodies.

Xiulan blinked rapidly. “Looting the corpses?”

Through gaps in the burning walls, she spotted Feng Yu efficiently rifling through clothes and pouches. The fire spread upward, consuming the second and third floors in a terrifying display. Feng Yu emerged, making her way to the cultivator Xiulan had launched through the wall earlier.

Looting...

The concept clicked in Xiulan’s mind, but something about it felt wrong. They had likely planned worse for them—robbery, murder, or something even more deplorable. Yet watching Feng Yu strip resources from their cooling bodies made her stomach queasy.

She stared at the burning inn, raindrops sizzling as they hit the flames. The memory of her servants dragging bodies into Lin Manor surfaced—how she’d ordered them to search the corpses of the arrogant young master and his thugs. Her hands stayed clean then, but the result remained the same.

This world doesn’t care about clean hands. The thought settled like lead in her stomach. More fights would come, and more deaths would follow. Standing on moral high ground wouldn’t keep her alive. She’d already killed plenty of people herself; why was she suddenly worried about going through the pockets of men who had meant her and her friend harm?

Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. These thoughts were mere echoes from a more peaceful world.

Smoke and ash swirled through the rain as she stepped toward Feng Yu. Her boots splashed through puddles reflecting orange firelight. “Find anything worthwhile?”

Feng Yu straightened from her crouch, pocketing a small pouch. “Two dozen spirit stones between all of them.” She held up an oddly shaped ring. “This looks interesting. The rest?” She kicked a discarded sword, sending it skittering across wet stones. “Trash weapons. These idiots probably couldn’t even qualify as sect fodder. Got kicked out.”

Xiulan wiped the rain from her face, studying the burning inn. “I hoped we could sleep indoors tonight. Camping in this weather sounds miserable.”

Feng Yu glanced toward the adjacent structures, flames reflecting in her amber eyes. “We should extinguish the fire before it spreads to the barn.”

“The barn?” Xiulan’s heart skipped. Their wagon sat inside that barn—along with all their supplies and the massive dawn serpent scale collection device. She sprinted across the muddy ground, boots splashing through puddles.

“Wait!” Feng Yu’s shout cut through the crackle of flames. “Don’t use that thunderclap technique—the air burst will feed the fire!”

“Argh!” Xiulan stumbled to a halt, rainwater dripping from her hair. “Do something then!”

Foothills Lull

Every city must maintain a delicate balance between cultivator freedom and mortal safety. Too much restriction drives away talent, too little invites chaos. The most prosperous regions master this equilibrium through both force and incentive.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

The cart lurched over another rut, rattling Xiulan’s teeth. She adjusted her position against the rough wooden planks, trying to find a comfortable spot beside the collection device.

As they crested another hill, the county’s capital emerged against a towering cliff face—a cheerless sight of gray stone buildings surrounded by a wall hooked into the cliff on both ends.

Xiulan glanced up at the massive bronze bell shape that dominated the wagon. Feng Yu sat cross-legged atop it, maintaining perfect balance despite the constant swaying. She hadn’t moved in hours, not since they broke camp that morning.

How does she do that without falling?

The cart wheels squeaked as they rolled onward. Xiulan twisted to study their drivers. Both men stared straight ahead, maintaining their hours-long silence. The quiet felt heavy, unnatural. Were they truly that afraid of traveling with a noble and her companion?

A hard bump knocked Xiulan’s head against the wood. She rubbed the sore spot, wondering if walking might have been less painful than the bone-jarring ride. Either way, the journey wasn’t friendly; patches of bare rock dominated the sparse landscape where grass should have grown, and the air grew thinner with each mile toward Fershere City. However, the qi density seemed to increase, as Xiulan certainly didn’t feel any effects from the elevation.

The cart creaked around another bend in the hills. Feng Yu landed softly beside Xiulan on the wagon bench, sending a small puff of dust into the thin mountain air.

“It looks miserable, but Fershere counts among the richest counties in the province.” Feng Yu gestured toward the sprawling gray buildings. “The metal and jade mines ensure that.”

Xiulan studied the walls, noting the precise stonework and lack of weathering. “The defenses appear well-maintained, at least.”

“More than mere stone.” Feng Yu traced a pattern in the air. “Talismans line every section. No cultivator crosses those walls without permission. The guard force makes sure of that.”

“In Blackmere, only the Treasure Pavilion could afford that...” Xiulan frowned at the implications.

“Blackmere barely attracts a single cultivator—well, before your bounty stirred things up. I can only imagine it’s a punishment post.” Feng Yu adjusted her position as the wagon hit another bump. “Here? They swarm like locusts. We’ll need sharp eyes. Treasure hunters might see two lone fairies as easier marks than mining claims, regardless of the city guard’s cultivation level.”

“The magistrate pays guards in spirit stones?”

Feng Yu nodded. “The mountains shake loose plenty of wealth. With luck, we won’t face competition in the Dawn Forest, though. Most hunters prefer easier grounds. The valley offers nothing special beyond the serpents.”

Xiulan studied Feng Yu’s casual recitation of local facts. “You seem quite knowledgeable about Fershere. When did you research all this?”

“Ha!” Feng Yu’s laugh echoed bright and clear against the stone walls. “I maintain detailed knowledge of every major province. Such awareness comes with my calling.”

Before Xiulan could ask what that calling was, the wagon slowed to a halt behind a line of merchant carts. Two guards in polished armor approached, their cultivation levels radiating subtle pressure against Xiulan’s senses.

“Travel passes,” the first guard demanded, eyeing their elaborate robes.

Feng Yu produced an ivory token adorned with an elegant silk tassel. Xiulan retrieved her own pass—fresh ink still gleaming on the parchment beneath her family’s stamp.

The second guard squinted at the date. “This document appears newly issued, yet word reached us of Lord Lin’s death weeks ago.”

“I am Lin Xiulan, daughter of the previous lord.” Xiulan pulled a lacquered box from her sleeve and displayed her family’s seal nestled within. “My brother Zhang Wei now serves as Lord Lin.”

Both guards snapped into practiced bows. “Welcome to Fershere City, Miss Lin. May prosperity find you during your stay.”

“Thank you for your diligence.” Xiulan inclined her head in acknowledgment.

The guards waved them through the imposing gates, and the wagon wheels clattered against the cobblestones as they entered Fershere proper.

“Your noble status opens certain doors.” Feng Yu stretched languidly, one hand on the collection device for balance. “Though it makes us rather... noticeable.”

Xiulan studied her companion’s casual sprawl. “You enjoy the attention.”

A bright grin spread across Feng Yu’s face. “It cuts through tedious formalities. We just need to avoid angering anyone beyond the qi refining stage.”

Xiulan studied the street through narrowed eyes. Merchants hawked their wares from colorful stalls while well-dressed citizens haggled over prices. The prosperity of Fershere displayed itself in every gleaming storefront and jingling coin purse.

Anyone beyond qi refining? The words echoed in her mind as she considered the vast gulf between cultivation stages. Both she and Feng Yu remained at body refining—the lowest rung of power. Qi gathering followed; they would gather their elements and build their qi pool as much as possible with their newly reinforced bodies. Only after mastering that would they advance to qi refining, which would mainly be an exercise in control over their new power pools.

The implications of Feng Yu’s casual confidence struck her. Did her new companion truly believe she could handle cultivators two full stages above them? That seemed impossible, yet...

Xiulan recalled the fluid grace of Ren Chun’s movements, the devastating precision of Feng Yu’s attacks. And she knew they hadn’t shown her everything. They had always been holding back. Even her own progress had far exceeded normal limits thanks to the Golden Meridian Opening Pill. The three of them displayed various abilities that should have been beyond their cultivation level.

A merchant’s cart rattled past, loaded with gleaming ore. The sight sparked a realization—Blackmere’s isolation had skewed her perspective. Her backwater home hardly attracted talented cultivators. What were the odds of encountering two prodigies of her generation there?

In a way, perhaps the bounty had been helpful.

Movement caught her eye—a figure in pale blue stood motionless atop a nearby roof. Her muscles tensed. The cultivator’s white sash fluttered in the mountain breeze as he stared down at their wagon.

“Relax.” Feng Yu followed her gaze upward. “He’s one of the guards.”

“How can you tell?” Xiulan kept her eyes locked on the silent observer.

“Well, maybe he’s just wearing a clever disguise.” Feng Yu smirked. “But pale blue and white are Lord Fershere’s colors. Didn’t you notice the flag at the gate?”

“Ah...” Heat crept into Xiulan’s cheeks. “I focused on other details.”

“Fair enough.” Feng Yu stretched her arms above her head. “We shouldn’t face too many problems inside the city walls. It’s the journey out—and especially back—that concerns me.” She lowered her voice. “Those cultivators we fought on the road? That mindset isn’t uncommon. It gets worse when someone competent leads them.”

Xiulan nodded, studying her companion’s profile. Pure chance had brought Feng Yu into her life, yet already she counted both Feng Yu and Ren Chun as peers—perhaps even friends.

She just hoped she wasn’t trusting too easily.

“Where should we head, Miss Lin?” The driver twisted in his seat, keeping a firm grip on the reins.

“We need stables near the north gate.” Xiulan scanned the branching roads. “And close to the Treasure Pavilion if possible.”

“Smart thinking.” Feng Yu shifted her weight, causing the wagon to creak. “We’ll have plenty to sell after our mountain excursion. No point hauling this monstrosity up there in the wagon, either.”

Xiulan rubbed her temples. “Carrying it will be torture.”

“About that...” Feng Yu tapped the bronze surface. “I know I joked earlier, but it’s doable with the right harness.” She paused, studying the contraption. “A spatial ring or technique would be ideal, but finding something worthy of being a sect treasure...” Her gaze snapped to Xiulan, narrowing suspiciously.

The intensity of Feng Yu’s stare made Xiulan squirm. “What?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spatial ring tucked away somewhere?”

“Are you kidding?” Xiulan straightened her robes. “Why would I have anything like that?”

Feng Yu’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Well, you did snag that golden pill. Who knows what other lucky finds might fall into your lap?”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “A treasure like that would help immensely. Maybe we’ll find one at the bottom of the lake?”

“You think so?” Feng Yu leaned forward eagerly. “Nobody ever tries swimming down there...”

“Uh...” Xiulan’s stomach dropped. “If we spend time trying to swim in the lake—”

Feng Yu’s laughter rang out across the street, drawing curious stares. “Your face! So serious! I’m only teasing.”

Xiulan puffed her cheeks in annoyance.

The sun dipped toward the peaks as they trudged through Fershere’s winding streets. After two exhausting hours of searching, they found a stable willing to house their wagon and collection device, along with an inn that didn’t reek of stale beer and unwashed bodies.

Xiulan settled at the small table in their room, steam rising from bowls of rice and vegetables. This time, she had insisted on eating in private.

Feng Yu snatched a piece of bread from the spread, taking a quick bite as she strode toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to eat? Where are you going?” Xiulan lowered her chopsticks.

“Treasure pavilion.” Feng Yu spoke around her mouthful of bread. “Need to buy that harness. Should be cheap—the spirit stones we collected will cover it easily.”

“Don’t you want me to come along?”

“I’ll handle it.” Feng Yu smirked. “You should practice your qinggong. Unless you enjoy falling on your face?”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s cheeks. “Hah... okay.”

The door clicked shut behind Feng Yu, leaving Xiulan alone with her meal. She picked at the vegetables, noting how qi saturated the air—nothing like Blackmere’s spiritual emptiness. If her father had employed even a few cultivator guards...

Xiulan shook her head. No point dwelling on what-ifs.

She set down her empty bowl, considering her training options. The basic movement qinggong had proven far more challenging than anything she’d learned so far.

Until now, she’d relied on brute force—flooding techniques with raw qi thanks to her quick regeneration. It worked… but it left her vulnerable.

Running out of qi in combat created dangerous openings. So far, she’d been lucky; the bandits and cultivators she’d faced mainly relied on physical strength rather than spiritual attacks.

As long as qi flowed and pooled within her, it offered some natural resistance to spiritual techniques. But if drained to nothing, even a simple spiritual attack could strike through, leaving her exposed—if only for a second. A skilled opponent would exploit any weakness, no matter how brief.

She pushed the vegetables around with her chopsticks. Managing qi flow demanded her full attention. The thunder clap technique drained massive amounts of energy, while qinggong required precise control. She needed to master the latter to modulate and control the former.

Xiulan shoved her bowl aside and stared at her callused hands. Perhaps focusing on Body Refinement would yield better results than struggling with qi control. But…

She just wasn’t ready yet.

The thought of strengthening her bones made her wince—without proper cultivation aids and pills, the process would border on torture. She needed to advance her alchemy skills first.

Standard painkillers would dull her mind too much for cultivation. She also had to figure out which elements she’d want to focus on during qi gathering and prepare her body to accept those. Ren Chun had focused on earth and water… and Feng Yu was obviously aiming for a Fire Reinforcement Pill.

Xiulan frowned. What was she going to do? Nothing stood out.

Wood, fire, earth, metal, and water made up the five elements. Each contained yin and yang in equal measure. Nothing really stood out to her.

She hadn’t studied Ren Chun’s qi, but Feng Yu’s had felt full of yang and fire.

The other girl had called her qi a starry blue, like stars reflected on a clear river’s surface.

Stars…

Xiulan closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, balancing on the back legs. Stars represented all the elements in heaven. A little chuckle escaped her. Maybe she could try to reinforce herself for all the elements? With an equal balance of yin and yang?

That’d be complicated, but it was a legitimate build in the game, too. It just required more resources and a bit more effort. But nothing would be more versatile.

She let out a sigh and stood up.

At least my current fighting style works. Her techniques capitalized on her unusual qi capacity and regeneration rate. The fully opened meridians gave her advantages most cultivators wouldn’t gain until reaching the Qi Gathering stage.

Feng Yu’s earlier words echoed in her mind. She’d essentially skipped the gradual opening process entirely. There was no need for the typical meridian opening—she just needed to determine her elements, reinforce her body, step into the next stage, and start accumulating power to prepare for refining.

Xiulan cleared the remnants of her meal and settled cross-legged on the wooden floor. Time to practice.

She gathered her qi, focusing the energy through her meridians. The first attempt sent her stumbling backward. The second barely lifted her heels from the floor. On the third try, qi flowed evenly across her skin, creating a cushion of energy that pushed against the wooden planks.

Her feet lifted from the ground. The sensation of weightlessness triggered a flutter of excitement in her stomach as she hovered three inches above the floor. Sweat beaded on her forehead while she struggled to maintain the delicate energy balance.

A slight twitch of her shoulder sent her spinning left. She redistributed qi through her meridians, attempting to correct the rotation. The movement jerked too far upward instead, and she nearly hit the ceiling. The bed rushed up to meet her as she lost control, landing face-first on the lumpy mattress.

“Ugh.” Xiulan pushed herself up and resumed her starting position.

Small adjustments proved the most challenging—like pouring a single drop of water rather than emptying the whole cup. She managed a wobbly hover, experimentally shifting her weight forward. The movement sent her drifting toward the wall in fits and starts.

Her gaze fell on her spear propped in the corner. Well, learning qi control was easier than figuring that out.

She refocused on her current task, evening out her qi distribution. The gentle push and pull of energy through her meridians demanded absolute concentration.

She steadied her breathing and tried again.

Smackdown Gust

The strongest cultivator is not the one who can take the most but the one who knows precisely how much force to apply. Like a master physician administering medicine, your response to corruption should be carefully measured—enough to cure the disease without killing the patient.
—Master Bai Yue, Hand of Mortal Healing

Xiulan stared at Feng Yu, then shifted her gaze to the bell-shaped collection device. The contraption gleamed in the late morning light, its polished surface reflecting the rocky landscape.

They had brought the wagon with them—along with a group of six men plus their drivers—up into the mountain as far as the path allowed. The journey ended at a played-out gold mine, still within sight of the city.

The open ground provided a clear view of the dozens of small groups and solo miners combing the rock fields for loose valuables. Most of them worked their way higher up the mountain, driven by desperation. Their worn clothes and haggard faces spoke of long days spent searching for small lost pebbles that might offer days or weeks of succor.

Xiulan watched the hired laborers strain under the weight of the bronze bell. Their muscles bulged as they maneuvered it onto solid ground with grunts of effort.

Four taels well spent, she thought, even though she and Feng Yu possessed enough cultivation strength to move it themselves. The security of having eight men escort the empty wagon back to the city outweighed the minor expense.

Leaving with the bell and not the wagon would have been more suspicious, although she wasn’t exactly clear on who was suspicious of them. They’d certainly been watched by the light blue robe and white sashed guards in the city and while leaving, but she hadn’t seen anyone else paying them extra mind.

But Feng Yu said it was a good idea, and she was predisposed to listen to the other woman about these things; she had way more experience traveling and living in the world.

A leather harness sailed through the air toward Xiulan’s face. She caught it reflexively, staring at the intricate webbing of straps and metal buckles.

“What?”

“You’ll need one too—just in case you have to carry the bell,” Feng Yu said. She pulled two more harnesses from the cart and stuffed them into their oversized travel pack. “These are single-use only, and we’ve got just two spares.”

Xiulan examined the harness, methodically fastening the various buckles around her torso. The design sparked a memory from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles—players used identical gear to transport heavy items. But the game had always faded to black during the actual lifting sequence...

Feng Yu turned to look down the path and froze, eyes locked on the abandoned mine entrance. The weathered timber supports cast long shadows across the rocky ground.

“Is something the matter?” Xiulan asked.

“We’re being watched,” Feng Yu said, her gaze fixed.

Xiulan’s muscles tensed. “By who?”

“Not sure.” Feng Yu shifted her stance. “But whoever they are, I don’t sense any overwhelming strength from them.”

Xiulan closed her eyes and reached out with her qi sense—another skill she needed to master properly. At close range, her qi detection worked perfectly, and she could track individual meridian flows and pinpoint energy concentrations.

But Feng Yu operated on a completely different level, detecting things long before they became immediate dangers. And the only advice given was a frustrating “practice more,” which wasn’t super useful!

The background qi pulsed steadily around them, denser than usual due to the mineral-rich mountains. Beyond that... nothing. No distinct signatures or unusual patterns caught Xiulan’s attention. Maybe the elevated ambient energy was making it harder?

What am I missing that she can detect so easily?

Feng Yu exhaled sharply. “Well, let’s just see what comes out.”

Xiulan watched as Feng Yu backed up to the bronze bell and dropped into a perfect squat. A quick tug on a cord at her shoulder transformed the simple harness into something else entirely. Leather straps shot outward like striking snakes, wrapping around the massive collection device in fluid motions. The bindings cinched tight with a series of sharp clicks, securing the bell firmly against Feng Yu’s back.

Feng Yu straightened, lifting the collection device as if it weighed nothing. Xiulan focused on the qi flows rippling through the ground beneath Feng Yu’s feet. The energy pulsed subtly—not a massive drain, but active qi was definitely working to maintain her balance.

“Here they come.” Feng Yu nodded toward the abandoned mine entrance.

Three figures emerged from the shadowed tunnel. Two wore plain green robes with blue sashes, steel swords hanging at their sides. Their leader strutted ahead in more elaborate garments trimmed with gold thread, a heavy cudgel thrust through his waist sash.

“Earth’s Embrace Academy.” Feng Yu’s words carried a note of recognition.

Why now? Xiulan’s jaw tightened. The timing was far too convenient—waiting until after Feng Yu had strapped herself to their equipment before making an appearance. This was not a friendly visit.

Xiulan turned to the hired laborers, who shuffled their feet against the rocky ground. Their eyes darted between her and the approaching cultivators.

“You may return to the city now.” She kept her tone steady, projecting calm authority despite the tension crackling through the air. The men bowed deeply before urging the horses back down the mountain path.

The three cultivators advanced with measured steps, acting like they had all the time in the world. Xiulan blew a puff from her lips. Annoying.

Feng Yu eventually raised her hand, the bronze bell still strapped to her back. “That’s close enough. State your business.”

The leader stepped forward, gold thread on his robes catching the morning light. “I am Duan Wuji. You’re trespassing on our territory. There’s a fee for that.”

“We’re still on the public road.” Xiulan gestured to the worn path beneath their feet. The packed earth showed clear signs of use.

Duan Wuji smirked. “This road services the mine exclusively. Beyond this point, you’re trespassing.”

“We have no interest in the mine.” Xiulan squared her shoulders. “Our business lies elsewhere, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”

“How unfortunate you see it that way.” Duan Wuji’s fingers traced the length of his cudgel. “We’ll need to settle this with a duel, then. And I’m afraid the price just went up significantly.”

Xiulan crossed her arms. “And what if we don’t consent to a duel?”

Duan Wuji’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, and he shifted his stance. “That would be quite unfortunate. Then all three of us would need to fight—and with your friend so encumbered by whatever that is, it wouldn’t be very fair, would it?”

“Tsk.” Xiulan studied the trio’s positioning. The two lackeys had spread out slightly, hands resting on their sword hilts.

Duan Wuji chuckled, the sound echoing off the rocky cliff face. “You should have just paid the fee! Two spirit stones and you could have passed freely. Now when I win this duel, I’ll be taking all of them.”

“Haa.” Xiulan tilted her head. “And what if you lose? Will you offer up your gold mine?”

“We don’t even need to consider that possibility.” Duan Wuji puffed out his chest. “I won’t be losing!”

“So whatever I want, then?” Xiulan smiled sweetly.

Duan Wuji scoffed. “I don’t care.” He pulled a studded mace from his belt. One of his companions passed him a small buckler shield. “First hit decides it—unless you wish to court death?”

Xiulan reached for her spear, but Feng Yu’s arm shot out, blocking her.

“I’ll be his opponent,” Feng Yu declared firmly. “Not my younger martial sister.”

“What!” Duan Wuji exclaimed.

“The only one courting death here is you.” Feng Yu shifted the massive bronze bell on her back. “I won’t let my martial sister fight some toll monkey. Besides, explaining your corpse to the city guards would be troublesome.”

Blood rushed to Duan Wuji’s face, turning it scarlet. “You—!”

“Are you sure...?” Xiulan studied Feng Yu’s stance. The device was unwieldy…

Feng Yu drew her saber with her free hand and patted Xiulan’s shoulder. “One Thunder God Clap would probably kill all three of them. The guards watching us from the city walls might take issue with that.”

Xiulan squinted toward the distant walls. The city sprawled below them, buildings reduced to tiny blocks at this distance. No way to make out individual guards from here—but then again... If I was stuck on guard duty with enhanced sight, I’d probably watch anything interesting, too.

“Those guards aren’t even paying attention to us.” Duan Wuji spat on the ground.

A sharp whistle cut through the air as Feng Yu stepped forward and slashed. The force of her strike created visible ripples in the air between them. “You’re wasting our time. Run or fight.”

Xiulan backed away from the confrontation, giving Feng Yu space to maneuver despite the bell’s bulk.

Duan Wuji released a guttural growl and charged forward like an enraged bull, his cudgel raised high.

Xiulan held her breath as Duan Wuji skid to a halt, his charge a fake out as he switched directions to circle Feng Yu. The bronze bell restricted her friend’s movement, forcing precise, economical steps. Each pivot looked calculated, deliberate.

Duan Wuji darted in from the side, mace whistling through the air while his buckler stayed centered, protecting his core. Feng Yu’s saber flashed in response—a storm of steel despite her encumbrance. The weapons clashed in a series of clangs and clinks that echoed off the rocky ground.

The Earth’s Embrace cultivator retreated, reassessing. His footwork showed practiced discipline as he maintained distance. A sharp stomp sent qi coursing through the ground. Rock cracked and split, a fissure racing toward Feng Yu’s position.

Feng Yu’s saber struck downward in a horizontal arc. The blade ignited with crimson energy, carving a glowing line that intercepted the approaching fault line. Fire erupted from the intersection, forcing Duan Wuji back another step.

“Damned fire cultivator!” His mace swung downward viciously, qi-enhanced strength shattering the ground. Rock chunks flew toward Feng Yu in a deadly barrage.

Multiple slashes carved burning paths through the air as waves of super-heated qi reduced the projectiles to ash. The red mist continued onward, forcing Duan Wuji to leap aside. His green robes fluttered as he landed and tensed for another assault.

“Stop!” Xiulan’s shout cut through the tension.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward her. She pointed at Duan Wuji’s sleeve. Embers still smoldered on the fabric.

“The duel was to first hit. You’ve already lost.”

Xiulan tensed as Duan Wuji’s companions drew their swords. Qi surged through their meridians—the telltale sign of imminent attack. Three against two, and Feng Yu’s movement is limited by that bell.

She raised both hands skyward, channeling opposing qi streams through her meridians. The energy crackled between her palms before she released a controlled burst upward. Thunder boomed across the mountainside, echoing off the rocky slopes like a warning drum.

Duan Wuji’s team froze mid-step, weapons still raised. Their eyes darted between Xiulan and the dissipating energy above.

“Parlor tricks won’t save you.” Duan Wuji sneered, adjusting his grip on the cudgel. “We aren’t afraid of some sound.”

“Xiulan, don’t kill th—” Feng Yu started.

Xiulan shifted her stance and aimed both palms at the trio. Qi rushed through her meridians as she carefully modulated the flow—hopefully enough to teach a lesson without causing permanent damage. The energy streams collided between her hands, releasing a Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters.

The blast caught all three cultivators. They lifted off the ground, arms and legs flailing as they sailed backward through the air. They crashed into the gravelly dirt several a dozen feet away, weapons scattering.

“Hey, you’ve learned some control.” Feng Yu nodded approvingly.

“Thanks to your help with practicing.” Xiulan grinned at her.

Duan Wuji staggered to his feet, dust falling from his once-pristine robes. “Even if you can do that special move, you can’t possibly maintain it more than—”

Xiulan brought her palms together. The qi streams collided with precise control, sending another thunderclap through the morning air. Though weakened by distance, the blast still caught Duan Wuji square in the chest. He stumbled backward, boots scraping against loose rocks as he fought to maintain balance.

“I’m not even trying.” Xiulan channeled more qi between her hands, creating visible distortions in the air. “Want to see if you three can survive a trip back to the city? Over the wall? Test out how the defensive talismans work?”

Maybe that’s pushing it a bit far, she thought. But the threat had the desired effect—blood drained from Duan Wuji’s face, leaving him pale as morning frost.

“Now then.” Xiulan lowered her hands and smiled sweetly. “Since you never specified what I’d get when you lost the duel... I can take everything, right?”

Feng Yu leaned close, her breath tickling Xiulan’s ear as she whispered something that made Xiulan burst into laughter.

“Start stripping.” Xiulan gestured at the three cultivators. “If you hurry, I’ll let you keep your underclothes.”

Wilderness Sigh

In the untamed wilds, every step carries both danger and opportunity. The wise cultivator learns to see beyond the surface, to feel the pulse of qi that marks territorial boundaries, and to recognize that even the most fearsome beasts follow predictable patterns. Yet it is often our own rashness, not the wilderness itself, that poses the greatest threat to success.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan braced against the bronze collection device strapped to Feng Yu’s back. She forced qi through her entire body for support as her muscles strained to push upward. The valley path had deteriorated into a treacherous maze of broken stone and jutting rocks.

At least cultivators didn’t sweat easily unless their qi reserves were hard pressed. They hadn’t reached that point yet. The stupid climb was more of an annoyance.

The two-foot rocky steps earlier hadn’t slowed them down. Feng Yu’s enhanced strength made those look trivial, and Xiulan hadn’t needed to help with the balance of the device at all. But then, they’d faced a choice: a thirty-meter cliff drop or a knife-edge ledge that twisted down into fog-filled ravines.

They’d picked the latter and ended up going down the former, anyway.

Now they struggled up chest-high rock faces that demanded constant climbing.

No one in their right mind would call this a road. Only the verified directions Feng Yu had acquired from Fershere’s Treasure Pavilion gave her any confidence they were headed the right way.

They were almost there… just one more hump.

“Come on! Push!” Feng Yu encouraged.

Xiulan planted her feet and shoved hard against the collection device. The sudden force launched Feng Yu forward with an undignified squawk as she tumbled up and over the ledge.

A second later, Xiulan hauled herself over as well, her palms scraping against the rough stone as she rolled onto solid ground.

“We made it into the wilds.” Feng Yu sat cross-legged with the straps to the bronze bell still tugging at her back. She gestured toward the expanse ahead. “There’s the valley.”

Xiulan pushed to her feet and stared in awe. A massive trough stretched between the mountains that cupped it like two sheltering hands. A dense evergreen forest rimmed the scarp and surrounded a dominating, pristine blue lake in the center.

Sunlight danced across the crystal-blue water, creating diamond-like sparkles across its surface. Giant birds soared overhead, their wingspans casting fleeting shadows as they dove toward the water.

At the far end of the valley, creatures straight out of Earth’s prehistoric era lumbered between the trees. One beast, tall as a building and built like a mutated elephant, ripped up an entire tree trunk. The monster chomped through the wood and leaves with the casual ease of someone eating a sandwich.

It sparked her memories of Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles. The valley mirrored the perfect location she’d chosen for her sect—spacious enough for defensive walls, element-focused cultivation pagodas, and gathering grounds for inner and outer disciples. The lake would support a proper dock with leisure boats and a spiritual fishery.

Most importantly, the natural isolation would protect from common riffraff while the terrain’s shape would make the invasion-protection arrays much more energy efficient.

“Wow. Is this The Land Before Time or something?” The words slipped out before she could catch them.

“What?” Feng Yu frowned.

“Nothing.” Xiulan shook her head. “Just amazed how different it looks from the wastelands outside.”

“Well, we’re in the wilds now. The qi changed drastically.” Feng Yu stretched, the leather straps pulling against her. “Did you notice?”

Xiulan frowned and extended her qi sense outward, probing the surrounding air. The spiritual energy flowed with the same thickness and consistency she’d grown accustomed to in Fershere. “The density seems identical.”

A bright laugh escaped Feng Yu. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. Can’t you feel the pulse?”

Xiulan closed her eyes, blocking out the prehistoric valley’s distractions. She pushed her awareness deeper into the qi currents, past the surface-level energy. At first, nothing stood out beyond the usual ebb and flow.

Then—there. A subtle vibration threaded through the qi, so rapid she almost missed it. The sensation reminded her of touching a running engine, a nearly imperceptible hum of contained power.

“Maybe?” Xiulan opened her eyes. “I’ve never noticed anything like that before. I’d have to go back to Fershere to compare.”

“Every region has a different pulse.” Feng Yu adjusted the collection device’s straps and stood up. “That’s how you know you’ve crossed through a barrier. They don’t always announce themselves with dramatic fog or visible boundaries.”

“Right.” Xiulan absorbed the insight. The concept aligned perfectly with how Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles separated its regions. Different enemies, varied encounters, shifting qi densities, and elemental affinity bonuses—all changed at regional boundaries. She wasn’t sure how well that mirrored reality, but if the qi signature did, the rest stood to follow.

Would it kill the universe to give me a status interface? Xiulan sighed.

Feng Yu took a step forward and headed toward the tree line below. The broken platforms they’d crossed gave way to a long gravel slope stretching down to struggling grass skirting the trees.

“We should gather anything useful along the way,” Xiulan said, scanning the ground for resources.

Feng Yu extended her palm with a knowing smirk. Four fragments of translucent green stone sparkled in the sunlight, catching and refracting the rays like living crystal.

“Spiritual jade fragments?” Xiulan stared at the precious stones. “When did you—”

Feng Yu’s laugh echoed across the slope. “Keep your eyes sharp, martial sister! We’re here for a mission, but that doesn’t mean it’s not an adventure. Treasure lurks everywhere!”

Xiulan caught herself smiling as she scanned the tree line for spirit herbs. Great, now I’m infected with whatever madness drives Ren Chun and Feng Yu.

Still, the excitement sparked through her qi. Purple-stemmed plants dotted the grass near ancient tree trunks, their leaves shimmering with spiritual essence. She’d collect them later.

The gravel crunched beneath their boots as they picked their way down the slope. Feng Yu angled toward the crystalline lake.

“Should we really head toward the water?” Xiulan studied the shoreline for movement.

“Don’t know.” Feng Yu adjusted the bronze collection device. “But serpents probably need to drink, right?”

“Makes sense.” Xiulan kept her qi sense extended, trying to practice her ability to monitor their surroundings.

Life teemed around them everywhere: birds swooped through branches while insects buzzed in complex harmonies. The wilderness pulsed with natural energy, so very different from Blackmere’s tainted swamps. A six-winged creature soared overhead, casting prismatic shadows through translucent feathers.

“Last time I ventured into wild territory, the beasts attacked almost immediately,” Xiulan said.

“In Blackmere?” Feng Yu glanced back.

“The swamp, yeah.” Xiulan recalled the black-scaled creatures lurking beneath the murky waters.

“Places like that fill up with beasts over time.” Feng Yu swept her arm toward the valley. “This is more usual. Someone probably came through here in the last decade and cleared out the most hostile creatures. But Blackmere isn’t exactly prime real estate for cultivators. It’s likely that no one strong enough to deal with them has passed by in a long time.”

Xiulan studied her companion’s profile. “Was the bounty really why you came? A thousand spirit stones sort of feels inadequate.”

A flicker crossed the other woman’s face, so brief Xiulan almost missed it.

“No.” Feng Yu picked up the pace slightly. “The bounty provided a convenient excuse. I needed to lay low, avoid some... complications. Nothing that should cause you trouble, though.”

“Huh. Okay.” Xiulan absorbed this revelation while scanning the tree line. Everyone had secrets, and Feng Yu had already proven herself reliable. For the setting, anyway.

It wasn’t like Xiulan didn’t have a bunch of secrets she was holding herself.

Keeping those close seemed like the safest bet, but… Damn it. The longer they worked together, the more and more she wanted to lay everything out and get advice.

But… that also felt like shaking a tree without knowing if the fruits would be hard or soft as they landed on her head. Xiulan let out a sigh as the trees and water came closer.

The tree trunks grew larger, the distance no longer making a mirage of their size. Ancient branches formed a thick natural canopy while a fence of leafy underbrush ran along the perimeter.

Xiulan gestured toward it. “Should we set up the trap in the trees?”

Feng Yu glanced between the trees and the lake. There was a natural runway down to the water at the two ends of the valley, but they were still a bit high up on the slope. “Let’s keep going down until it’s level.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Xiulan replied.

They continued down without issue until they put the water on their left and the forest on their right.

Feng Yu turned and nodded toward the trees. “This should be good.”

It didn’t turn out to be good.

Xiulan hacked at the dense undergrowth with qi-enhanced strikes using her spear. Thick vines and branches moved out of the way grudgingly. Feng Yu followed behind, using her qi in heavy pulses that ran through the air to break through any snags.

It was worse than climbing the mountain!

Eventually, the forest floor transformed from a jungle-like thicket into a relatively thin open space between the thick tree trunks. Light fell down in weak dappled patterns as the wind sieved through the branches.

A thunderous crack split the air and Xiulan jumped. A giant squirrel—easily the size of a compact car—slammed into a nearby tree trunk. The impact shook leaves loose as the creature scrambled away, its bushy tail leaving destruction in its wake.

“There’s one!” Feng Yu pointed toward a clearing ahead.

Xiulan followed her gesture and froze. A dawn serpent coiled around a fallen log, its eight-meter length rippling with self-luminescent white scales. The ethereal glow pulsed in gentle waves along its body.

Xiulan studied the creature’s display. “How do they sneak up on anything glowing like that?”

“They probably just eat qi most of the time,” Feng Yu said. “And sleeping things, maybe?”

Impatience thrummed through Xiulan. “Let’s set the trap, grab it, and throw it in.”

Feng Yu chuckled. “Doesn’t that defeat the point of a trap?”

“Hmm.” Xiulan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Either way, we’ll get scales. One method is faster than waiting for it to come after the bait...”

She helped Feng Yu lower the bronze collection device to the ground. The bell shape settled onto four heavy feet that prevented the interior from being flush with the ground. The outer surface was etched with intricate patterns that reminded her of circuit boards.

Dropping to her hands and knees, Xiulan crawled beneath the bell’s rim. She positioned a small block at the center, creating a platform for a spirit stone to sit on. The stone’s faint light blue glow cast dancing shadows across the bronze interior.

She backed out and brushed the dirt from her robes. An elaborate control panel housed a second stone slot, and a weathered copper dial. She inserted a second spirit stone and turned on the mechanism. Qi channels lit up across the bell’s surface, following geometric grooves that pulsed with stored power.

“Finally!” Feng Yu stretched dramatically, rolling her shoulders. “That thing weighs more than ten people.”

“Maybe I could carry it back?” Xiulan suggested.

Feng Yu hummed thoughtfully. “Not sure little sister is ready for that level of weight training!”

“Hey, I’m not weak!” Heat rose to Xiulan’s cheeks.

“I know.” Feng Yu smiled warmly. “Should we find a suitable spot to watch from? The serpent will come investigate soon.”

Xiulan grinned and spun toward where they’d spotted the dawn serpent.

She’d go wrestle the creature into the trap personally.

Serpent Sough

Water holds memory deeper than any scroll, and wisdom vaster than any sage. Those who dive its depths must be prepared to face truths that have slumbered since the world's dawn.
—Sage Master Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Xiulan gripped the dawn serpent’s muscular body just behind its head, muscles straining against its thrashing coils. The creature’s luminescent scales flickered wildly as it twisted and writhed, angry hisses echoing off the trees.

“Ahhh!” Xiulan sprinted toward the bronze bell, fighting to maintain her hold. Each step brought fresh resistance as the creature fought against her grip.

“I can’t believe you caught one!” Feng Yu’s voice carried equal parts amazement and concern.

The serpent’s tail whipped violently as Xiulan reached the trap. She attempted to stuff its length inside tail-first, but it lashed back out at her. “Fuck!”

Feng Yu darted forward and seized the serpent’s tail. She pulled it taut, stretching the creature’s length. Once she was on the opposite side of the bell, she shouted, “Now!”

They released their grips simultaneously. The serpent coiled instantly, preparing to strike, but its defensive posture brought its entire form within the bell’s circumference. A grated ring slammed down into the dirt with a resonant clang. A piercing shriek alarm went off two seconds later in a two note pulse. Blue formations across the bronze surface shifted to pulsing green, sealing the trap.

“Oh my god, that was insane.” Xiulan’s breath came in quick gasps.

“Which god?” Feng Yu asked with genuine curiosity.

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. She crouched to peer beneath the bell’s rim.

A concentrated beam of light played across the trapped serpent’s form as it searched frantically for escape. Where the light touched, scales loosened and detached, floating upward into the beam. Even the creature’s hidden belly scales separated under the device’s influence.

Xiulan winced at the seemingly cruel process—until she noticed fresh scales beneath the harvested ones. The serpent showed no signs of injury or pain.

“Don’t just put your face up to it!” Feng Yu called out. “It’ll be furious when the trap opens!”

Xiulan scrambled backward to join her companion at a safe distance. The device continued its work for several minutes before chiming softly, its light shifting to yellow flashes. Soon after, red pulses signaled the end of the cycle. The grate retracted with a grinding sound.

The dawn serpent exploded from the trap in a blur of motion, its scaleless form no longer glowing as it slithered angrily into the underbrush.

Four big handfuls of scales popped out of a small container, and Xiulan dumped them in a collection bag inside their travel pack. When she bent down to check the bait, it was gone. “It snatched the bait anyway?”

Feng Yu pulled a spirit stone from her pouch and handed it over. Xiulan placed it on the little block underneath and then stood back up as the device’s qi channels turned a cheerful blue.

“Let’s find a good hiding spot. The glow should attract another one soon enough,” Feng Yu said.

They settled behind a fallen log near the underbrush, maintaining a clear view of the trap while staying beyond what they hoped was the serpent’s sensing range. The spirit stone’s pale blue radiance painted shifting shadows across the forest floor.

Minutes stretched into an hour. Xiulan shifted uncomfortably on the damp ground.

“Ugh.” Feng Yu nudged her shoulder. “Maybe you should catch another one?”

“Haha, no thanks.” Xiulan shook her hands emphatically. “Once was crazy enough.”

“Hmm.” Feng Yu stood abruptly and gazed toward the lake. “We should collect other materials while we wait.”

Xiulan followed her companion through the underbrush. A patch of multi-colored flowers caught her attention. “Look—these are like chromatic daisies. When crushed together, the powder works as an excellent elemental intensifier.”

“Lucky me,” Feng Yu patted Xiulan’s shoulder with a grin, “having such a skilled alchemist for a martial sister.”

Xiulan squinted at her suspiciously. “Is that my best trait? You and Ren Chun keep mentioning it.”

“Most cultivators focus purely on martial arts at our stage.” Feng Yu plucked another flower. “Having an alchemist as a peer is invaluable.”

“At least you’re honest about it.” Xiulan gathered the last of the flowers.

They discovered water roots near the shoreline, adding them to their travel pack. Xiulan frowned at the diminishing space. She had brought an extra pack that was still folded up, and it would double her carrying capacity, but even with that, storage might become an issue.

“I’m going for a swim,” Feng Yu announced suddenly, pointing at the lake.

“What!?” Xiulan bounced anxiously as Feng Yu untied her martial robes. “What are you doing?”

The outer robe fell to Feng Yu’s feet, revealing a thin chemise underneath. “How do you expect me to swim in these clothes?”

Xiulan slapped her hands over her eyes. “Someone could see you!”

“Who? We’re alone out here.”

Through splayed fingers, Xiulan peeked—and immediately regretted it as the chemise joined the pile at Feng Yu’s feet. Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. “You’re naked!”

“What’s wrong with that? Haven’t you seen another woman naked before?”

“Yes! But not—not outside!” Xiulan shifted from foot to foot. “What if someone has a spyglass?”

Feng Yu struck an exaggerated pose. “Then they’ll get quite a show.”

“Oh my god.” She couldn’t look anymore and stared at the ground.

“Relax, I’m not going completely bare.”

Xiulan glanced up to see Feng Yu retrieving her red sash. She wrapped it around her hips like a loincloth and belt, then attached her sword. “Never go anywhere without my weapon. Even swimming.”

“Are swords even waterproof?” Xiulan asked weakly.

Feng Yu laughed and waded into the lake. “With qi protection, it’s not even cold.” She turned back with a grin. “Watch my clothes like a good sister!”

“How long will—”

A splash cut off Xiulan’s question as Feng Yu dove beneath the surface.

“—you be in the water,” Xiulan finished to empty air.

The trap alarm pierced the silence with its two-note shriek.

“Aaagh!” Xiulan snatched up the discarded clothes and sprinted toward the sound. “Feng Yu!”

She sprinted back to the trap. The bronze bell pulsed with green light, signaling another successful capture. She bounced from foot to foot while counting down the required waiting period. The serpent inside thrashed against its prison, scales already detached and floating in the harvesting beam.

A minute later, the cycle was completed again. The grate retracted with a metallic groan and the scaleless serpent shot out like an arrow, vanishing into the underbrush. She quickly collected the scales and replaced the bait.

Back at the lakeshore, Xiulan settled onto a mossy log. The water’s surface remained undisturbed—no sign of Feng Yu. A cold knot formed in her stomach.

How long can cultivators hold their breath? The thought struck her with sudden force. They need air to cycle qi!

Xiulan sucked in a deep breath and held it. The familiar flow of energy through her meridians stuttered to a halt. Her lungs burned as seconds ticked by. Nothing worked right—the qi refused to move.

But shouldn’t there be some circulation? Even a little? Terror clawed at her chest. Feng Yu would be dead by now!

The surge of panic jolted her qi. It moved! Just a tiny bit, but definitely moved. Xiulan focused harder, manually pushing energy through its usual path. Another push. Then another. Like paddling through thick mud, her qi began circulating again. The burning in her lungs faded.

Relief flooded through her. So cultivators could hold their breath—it just took constant effort and drew from their reserves. Her expanded dantian held plenty of energy though, even if it wasn’t regenerating while she maintained the technique.

Xiulan pulled out their collection pouch and began sorting scales into neat dozens: nineteen full stacks plus seven extras, two hundred thirty-five scales total. Almost halfway to their goal—three more successful captures would do it.

She let herself breathe again, then glanced at the lake. The water remained perfectly still.

“Where are you?” Xiulan muttered. “This isn’t funny anymore!”

Xiulan drummed her fingers against the silk pouch. Their conversation the day before about the lake’s mysteries echoed in her thoughts.

“Nobody ever tries swimming down there...”

Feng Yu’s previous words were a hint.

“You’re not actually—” Xiulan shot to her feet. “Feng Yu!”

No response. Just the gentle lap of water against the shore.

“Ahhh!” Xiulan paced along the bank. “You better not be doing something stupid!”

She steadied her breathing and focused qi into her feet. The familiar tingle of Water Stepping Foot spread through her soles. Unlike the poor form she had been using before, Xiulan channeled a precise stream that covered only her feet.

The lake’s surface held firm beneath each careful step. Ripples spread from her footfalls as she ventured further from shore. Forty paces out, Xiulan peered into the depths. Murky green water obscured everything beyond a few feet. Deeper sections faded to absolute darkness.

A massive shape glided through the gloom below. Xiulan squinted at the water; the shadow stretched across half the lakebed.

That can’t be right.

She glanced up at the cloudless sky, seeing nothing that big flying around. So it wasn’t a silhouette.

The dawn serpent collection device alarm pierced through Xiulan’s worried thoughts.

“Not now!”

She sprinted off the lake and back through the forest, branches whipping past as she charged toward the sound.

Xiulan reached the bronze bell just as its harvesting cycle finished. The grate retracted with a grinding screech. The serpent shot out, scales stripped away, and lunged straight at her with fangs bared.

“Get out of my way, you stupid snake!” Xiulan’s frustrated scream echoed through the trees. The serpent froze mid-strike, muscles tensed. Its eyes locked with hers for a heartbeat before it twisted away and vanished into the underbrush.

She snatched the scattered scales from the collection tray and stuffed them haphazardly into her pack. The dead spirit stone could stay where it lay—finding Feng Yu took priority.

Just as she burst through the tree line toward the water, an enormous geyser erupted from the lake’s center, steam and water rocketing skyward in a massive mushroom cloud.

The peaceful surface shattered as something massive breached it.

A colossal white serpent emerged from the chaos, its scales gleaming like polished pearls in the sunlight. The creature’s massive head alone was the size of a building. It released a thunderous hiss that shook leaves from nearby trees.

A wall of water surged outward from the serpent’s emergence. Xiulan planted her feet and channeled qi through her meridians just before the tidal wave slammed into her with crushing force. She gritted her teeth as the water rushed past, leaving her soaked but unmoved.

Twin explosions drew her attention upward. Fireballs bloomed against the serpent’s pearl-white scales.

Between two massive fangs, each longer than Xiulan was tall, Feng Yu clung to the creature’s gums. Her red sash fluttered as she hacked at sensitive flesh with her sword, still half naked.

“Feng Yu!” Xiulan shouted a third time in exasperation.

Standard Unprepared Ancient Beast Encounter

The fiercest beast may spare those who possess what it values most, though they may not comprehend their fortune until long after danger has passed. Such mercy is not weakness but the deepest expression of protective instinct.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

Xiulan craned her neck upward at the towering serpent. Pearlescent scales reflected the sunlight like polished mirrors, each one the same size as the smaller serpents in the forest. The creature’s massive form loomed over her and blocked out part of the sky—a behemoth straight from the endgame raids of Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles.

“What the fuck, Feng Yu!” The words tore from Xiulan’s throat.

Why did they have to run into a world-boss-sized problem now? Gathering the scales from normal serpents had been easy!

The giant serpent whipped its head sideways as a wall of water surged across the lake. Another fireball exploded against its snout, drawing an earth-shaking hiss that rattled Xiulan’s bones. Feng Yu’s flames illuminated patches of scorched scales near its nostrils.

How did this thing even fit in the lake!?

The serpent twisted away, carrying a nearly naked Feng Yu in the opposite direction. Its massive body curved through the air before snapping back toward Xiulan. Another fireball burst overhead, its heat washing down as Feng Yu screamed something unintelligible.

Xiulan sprinted aside as the creature’s shadow fell over her again. She leapt over an incoming wave, her boots sliding on the muddy shore as she landed. Water dripped from her sodden clothes while she spun to face the monster.

Her mind raced through possible strategies, but nothing seemed adequate. Still, Feng Yu needed help—and fast.

The collection device might work against it.

What gave her confidence in it actually doing anything, she had no idea. But she had to try!

She sprinted back through the trees, her boots pounding against the soggy forest floor. The bronze collector came into sight. She grabbed the nearest handhold—one of its feet—and yanked. The device crashed onto its side with a resonant clang.

Bark and leaves scraped against the metal as she dragged it through the underbrush toward the churning lake, qi raging through her meridians to give her the strength to pull the thing through snags and dips.

Ahead, the massive serpent thrashed in the water, sending more waves crashing against the shore. Another of Feng Yu’s fireballs lit up the sky.

Prehistoric beasts thundered past through the forest. The ground trembled under their fleeing footsteps. Even the massive tree-eaters they’d spotted earlier crashed away from the chaos, snapping branches and toppling smaller trees in their wake.

Water sprayed down like storm rain, soaking through her already drenched clothes. The collection device’s weight dragged at her arms as reality sank in. She could probably haul it across the water using qi-enhanced strength, but the waves would sweep her away before she got close enough to use it.

Throwing it isn’t an option either.

A desperate idea struck her. Xiulan positioned herself behind the device and focused her qi. Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters built up in her palms.

The blast connected. A massive gong note reverberated through the air as arrays carved into the collector’s surface blazed with light. The sound repeated, multiplied, until a dozen thunderous rings made Xiulan’s vision swim.

The collector barely shifted, but she was knocked on her ass.

“Fuck.” Xiulan pressed her palms against her temples. What was I thinking? That was never going to work!

Heat blazed across the lake as a massive fireball erupted near the serpent’s head. Xiulan shielded her eyes against the inferno. The flames cascaded down the creature’s pearlescent scales in a torrent that would have incinerated a lesser beast.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Xiulan dropped her hand as the flames dissipated. The sheer magnitude of Feng Yu’s qi attack was stunning.

Ren Chun’s suspicious questions about her own cultivation rang through her mind. Now she knew how he felt.

But Feng Yu’s meridians weren’t even fully opened. The contradiction made no sense. Either she possessed some legendary artifact, or—

Spikes of flame shot from the fireball, peppering the serpent’s hide like burning arrows. The beast opened its maw in reply, blue qi coalescing into a sphere of pure water energy. The aqueous blast smashed through Feng Yu’s flames, extinguishing them in a burst of steam.

Xiulan’s breath caught. Had her friend just been roasted alive?

A blur of movement drew her attention as Feng Yu vaulted from the serpent’s mouth. Her flaming sword carved a burning line along the creature’s snout as she sprinted upward, the blade sparking against impenetrable scales.

The serpent thrashed violently. Feng Yu maintained her footing until she reached its eye—where everything went wrong. The protective lid slammed shut, pinning her leg beneath its crushing weight. Her fire-wreathed sword struck uselessly against the armored membrane.

“Fuck!” Xiulan glanced at the fallen collection device. There had to be a way to use it.

Xiulan snapped her gaze between the extra cargo harness she wore and the fallen collector. The way Feng Yu carried it...

A plan crystallized. Taking the two extra harnesses out first, she stashed their travel pack high in a nearby tree, securing it between two thick branches. The serpent’s roar added urgency as it thundered across the lake, spraying water droplets through the canopy—no time to waste.

Xiulan sprinted back. Her boots slipped in the mud as she heaved the bronze device into position. The metallic surface hummed beneath her fingers; residual energy from her failed thunder attack still lingered.

She ducked inside the bell-shaped container. The curved walls amplified every sound, from her rapid breathing to the distant battle.

Feng Yu’s scream pierced through the cacophony, spurring Xiulan to move faster.

Her fingers fumbled with the first harness. She pressed it against the inner surface, just below the collector’s rim, positioning it to face outward. The second harness followed, aligned directly over the first but facing inward.

Xiulan activated the inward-facing device. Energy surged through the arrays as the harness expanded. Leather bands interlocked and tightened, securing both pieces to the collector’s frame. The resulting configuration created an anchor point that would let her—

Another thunderous crash from the lake interrupted her inspection. She needed to hurry!

She pulled her knife from its sheath and sliced through a few of the harness wrappings. The cut exposed crucial components, particularly the emission point of the collection beam.

Slipping back outside, she replaced the spirit stone power source. It was a relief when the qi channels flashed and then turned blue. Ready.

No time for further modifications. The distant sounds of battle pushed her forward.

Xiulan squatted with her back to the collector and activated her harness. Leather bands snaked out, latching onto the bronze surface. But the device yanked her backward, its weight pulling her down.

She toppled over.

Shit.

Qi surged through her meridians as she focused power into her feet. The energy gripped the sodden earth, giving her the leverage needed to fight against the collector’s mass. Her muscles strained as she pushed upright, mud and leaves clinging to her robes.

“How did Feng Yu make this look so damn easy?” Xiulan gritted her teeth.

The ground shuddered. Near the shore, the white serpent’s massive form slammed into the earth, knocking loose branches free and sending ripples through puddles of standing water. Its armored eyelid remained clamped shut, pinning Feng Yu’s leg despite her continued struggles.

Xiulan shifted her weight, adjusting to the collector’s bulk. Her qi-enhanced strength kept it manageable. Almost like wearing a massive turtle shell.

She planted her feet and channeled qi through her meridians, focusing the energy just as Feng Yu had taught her. The technique demanded perfect control—too much force would send her flying, too little would drop her into the lake or mud.

“Here goes nothing.”

Xiulan broke into a run. The collector’s weight threatened to topple her backward with each step, but she compensated by leaning forward. Water splashed beneath as she crossed onto the lake’s surface, her qi spread evenly through each footstep.

A massive wave rolled toward her, its crest rising higher than her family manor’s walls. Xiulan redirected her qi flow, pushing more power into her legs. She sprinted up the liquid slope before it could break.

She cleared the wave’s peak and sailed through the air, wind whipping at her robes as the lake stretched out below. Her stomach lurched at the height—far higher than any of her practice attempts.

The collector’s mass pulled her into a controlled fall. At this rate, she would crash through the water's surface, and there was no way she could swim with a bronze weight lashed to her…

Two Heavenly Step.

She focused, her qi rushing to fill the specific points. Her first step stopped just above the water, and the second went directly forward, converting all her vertical velocity into horizontal. The lake surface exploded behind her, trying to catch up as her legs flailed to keep the sprint moving forward.

Her boots barely touched the water’s surface as she somehow maintained the pace. The giant serpent turned toward her, its pearl-white scales gleaming as its massive body cut through the lake like a living dam.

Time to see if all those hours of “basic” qinggong practice paid off.

Feng Yu’s patient instruction echoed in her mind: proper breath control, precise qi distribution, maintaining perfect balance.

Despite the practice, none of it really worked. Her qi was surging like a river washing out of its banks.

So she abandoned all pretense of finesse.

Qi surged through her meridians in raw, uncontrolled bursts. The collector’s weight shifted, threatening to plunge her into the depths below.

“Feng Yu!” The name tore from her throat—half warning, half desperate curse.

The serpent’s thunderous roar responded, drowning out any possible response. Water churned below as its massive coils as it writhed, sending waves in every direction. Through the spray, Xiulan glimpsed Feng Yu still struggling against the creature’s armored eyelid.

Fuck subtle. Time to go up.

Xiulan gathered qi beneath her feet and launched herself skyward. The collector’s mass tried to drag her down, but raw power won out.

She formed a disk of pure energy above, like the platforms Ren Chun had taught her, but cruder and far less stable in midair. Her boots connected with the ephemeral surface just long enough to spring higher.

Another disk materialized above as the first dissipated into mist. Each jump carried her further up, following an erratic path through the air. She left nothing but scattered droplets in her wake.

The serpent’s pearlescent coils suddenly shifted, its colossal body redirecting straight toward her position. Xiulan’s heart hammered against her ribs as the beast’s shadow engulfed her.

Oh shit. Xiulan gritted her teeth. Now or never.

She released her harness with a sharp twist.

The collector’s weight pulled away as she flipped around, grabbing the rim of the bronze bell. The collection arrays hummed against her skin while she oriented the device toward the oncoming serpent.

Pulling herself forward without unbalancing things was a strain, but her fingers closed around the last unused harness cord. One sharp yank activated the mechanism.

Xiulan slid behind the collector’s bulk as momentum carried them through the air. The beast’s thunderous roar vibrated through the metal, making her teeth rattle.

The world became a blur of white scales and churning mist; she couldn’t tell if she was falling toward the serpent or if it rushed to meet her.

Suddenly, the harness bands shot outward with a snap of taught leather. They expanded impossibly, growing to match the serpent’s massive girth. They whipped through the air like living things seeking purchase—and they found it, wrapping all the way around the serpent’s torso.

Emerald light flooded the collector’s chamber. Xiulan’s heart soared—it worked! The arrays had locked onto their target.

The victory lasted exactly one breath.

Pearlescent scales filled her vision as the serpent’s massive body slammed into the collector. Xiulan braced her feet against the curved bronze surface, qi surging as she absorbed the crushing impact. The collision knocked the air from her lungs.

The world tilted. Wind whipped through her hair as she plummeted toward the lake, bouncing down the serpent like she was falling off a mountain.

Pure instinct took over. Xiulan channeled qi through her boots and hands, adhering them to the serpent’s scales. The technique saved her from being flung into the air, but now she faced a fresh problem as the distance to the water dwindled.

Shit. If this thing hits the water with me pinned beneath it...

Spray pelted her face as she sprinted up the serpent’s flank. Her boots found purchase on the slick scales through sheer determination and desperate qi control. Each step carried her higher along the creature’s undulating form while lake water churned below.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Her lungs burned from the exertion. The qi drain from maintaining her footing while running vertically threatened to empty her reserves.

“Come on, come on!” Xiulan panted as she raced the crush. Water droplets stung her eyes, but she didn’t dare slow down.

A piercing shriek cut through the chaos, rising above the serpent’s thunderous movements. Xiulan twisted to look behind her, nearly losing her footing.

The bronze collector glowed green, its surface pulsing with unstable energy and the harness bands writhed, their grip on the serpent’s massive form loosening with each violent movement. The device careened wildly, bouncing and sliding in an erratic dance.

Shit. The harness wasn’t meant for this.

Ancient runes flashed across the collector’s surface—warnings or activation signals, she couldn’t tell. The magical formations carved on the harnesses sparked and sputtered, clearly struggling against forces far beyond their design limits.

Suddenly, the harness snapped tight, and the device’s trajectory shifted, its mass drawn upward by some unseen force. Xiulan’s breath caught as the bronze bell rocketed straight toward her position, arrays blazing with uncontrolled power.

Xiulan jumped. The leather wraps whistled past beneath her boots, close enough to feel the disturbed air. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she twisted midair, reaching for the serpent.

Her fingers slipped across the smooth surface. Gravity yanked her down the creature’s flank and wind whipped at her robes while she scrambled for purchase.

Qi pulsed erratically through her meridians as she fought to regain control. After a dozen terrifying meters of freefall, her energy finally latched onto the scales. Her descent halted with a bone-jarring jolt.

Three brilliant fireballs erupted near the serpent’s head, painting the sky in crimson and gold. Relief flooded through Xiulan’s chest. Feng Yu was still alive!

The collector’s piercing shriek cut off abruptly. Xiulan snapped her head toward it. Emerald light flashed, so bright it left spots dancing across her vision. Something small and hard bounced off her shoulder.

More impacts peppered her head and shoulders as iridescent scales rained down from above, clinking against each other like falling coins.

Holy shit. The collector actually worked.

She steadied her stance and sprinted after the collector as it skidded across the serpent’s scales. The massive beast thrashed, coils rising from the lake in a devastating surge. Ancient trees splintered like kindling as the serpent’s bulk crashed onto land.

Why is the device sliding upward?

She guarded her face with her forearm, pearlescent scales pelting her body as she chased the runaway collector. The bronze device scraped a gleaming trail up the serpent’s form, leaving exposed pink flesh in its wake.

The serpent tapers—skinnier near the head, thicker at the middle. Understanding clicked. The collector’s bands kept tightening, forcing it to slide up the narrowing form like a shrinking ring pushed along a cone.

A familiar weight pressed against her back. My spear. She’d forgotten about the weapon until now. Xiulan yanked it free from its sheath, testing the edge against the serpent’s exposed flesh. The blade sank in easily, drawing thick rivulets of blood.

Keeping her grip on the embedded spear, Xiulan ran alongside the wound she carved. The serpent’s movements grew more erratic with each step. She glanced sideways and nearly stumbled.

The forest canopy stretched far below. The serpent hadn’t just risen from the lake—it soared through open air, its massive form cutting through clouds as it climbed higher into the sky.

It’s flying. The damned thing is actually flying.

“Aaaaaahhh!” The scream tore from Xiulan’s throat as vertigo slammed into her chest. She tore her eyes away and focused on chasing the path of missing scales wrapping around the serpent like a corkscrew.

A few seconds later, she slammed into the collection device as it ground to a sudden halt. Leather straps creaked and groaned, constricting tighter around the serpent’s massive form just below its head. Each squeeze drew an ear-splitting shriek from the beast.

She clung to the device as the serpent thrashed wildly. The world spun in dizzying arcs of sky and forest canopy, making her stomach lurch.

A wall of flames roared toward her position. The heat singed her eyebrows even from dozens of meters away.

“Feng Yu!” Xiulan ducked behind the collection device. “Are you trying to fry me too?”

Need to free her first. The thought crystallized through her panic. The serpent’s eye remained firmly shut, trapping her companion beneath its armored lid. What could force it open?

A memory flickered through her mind: the satisfying crackle of her old stun gun, back when she was Li Mei. The way electricity could make muscles spasm and contract...

Xiulan glanced at her spear, still embedded in the serpent’s flesh. One prong down. She yanked her dagger free and plunged it into the naked serpent skin an arm’s length from the spear.

Yin on one side, yang on the other. She’d created lightning before, but controlling the qi flow through both weapons proved challenging. The energy wanted to rush into the weapons from her palms all at once, but that would just cause an explosion.

I don’t need lightning. A stun gun delivered a continuous current. Xiulan forced the mental dam she had built to open the floodgates just a little.

The moment she gave an inch, electricity crackled between the blades. Blue-white arcs danced across the serpent’s skin and into its flesh.

Too late, Xiulan realized her mistake. The current raced through the beast’s nervous system—and straight into her hands, still gripping the metal weapons.

Electric current surged through Xiulan’s body, scrambling her qi pathways. Her muscles spasmed as lightning danced across her flesh, skin hissing while white spots danced in her vision.

Did I just stun myself with my own technique? Her limbs twitched with residual energy. This is why you don’t invent cultivation techniques on the fly.

She struggled to even open her hands to let go of her two blackened weapons.

“Xiulan!”

She blinked away the afterimages and looked up.

Feng Yu sprinted down the serpent’s flank toward her. Blood and dirt covered the other woman’s skin, leaving little to imagination.

Almost on cue, the collection device’s leather straps vibrated like plucked bowstrings before snapping with explosive force. The bronze bell launched into open air.

“What are you—” Xiulan’s lungs rasped.

Feng Yu scooped her up with one arm, flame sword blazing in the other. Without hesitation, Feng Yu plunged her burning blade deep into exposed flesh.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” Xiulan clutched Feng Yu’s shoulders as they plummeted. A geyser of serpent blood erupted above them while they slid down the creature’s massive form.

“We need to get back to the ground!” Feng Yu shouted.

Xiulan’s stomach lurched as she glanced down at the distant earth. The memory of her first helicopter ride at a summer festival flashed through her mind—but they soared even higher than that childhood adventure. The treetops below looked like a green carpet against the landscape.

Blood sprayed across her face, hot and thick with the scent of ozone. The wind whipped her robes against her skin, each gust threatening to tear them apart.

Their descent ended abruptly as they reached the end of the line the collection device had cleaned of scales. Feng Yu’s sword wrenched free, launching them into empty air. Xiulan’s stomach lurched again as gravity took hold.

She closed her eyes and clung to her companion. A roar above forced her to open them again.

The serpent twisted its massive form, its pearl-white scales gleaming in the sunlight. Its jaws gaped wide, aimed right at them.

“It’s coming back!” Xiulan tightened her grip.

Feng Yu glanced over her shoulder. A wild grin spread across her face. “We need cover!”

“In the fucking sky? Where is there any fucking cover?” Xiulan’s words turned shrill. “Feng Yu, why did you do this, you stupid protagonist person!”

“What are you talking about? It’s right there!”

Xiulan twisted her neck, following Feng Yu’s gaze. The bronze collection device tumbled through the air below them, its surface still crackling with flickering energy. Her heart skipped. “Being eaten by a serpent while inside that thing is not an improvement!”

The device grew larger. Too large, too fast—something felt off about their descent. Qi radiated from Feng Yu in controlled pulses, guiding their trajectory toward the bronze bell.

Blue light flashed in her peripheral vision. Xiulan snapped her attention upward. Azure energy coalesced in the serpent’s maw, building into a familiar glow.

“FASTER!” Xiulan screamed into Feng Yu’s ear.

The azure light coalesced into a brilliant sphere between the serpent’s crystalline fangs, pulsing with deadly intent; it reminded Xiulan of lightning trapped in a bottle. Her meridians thrummed as she gathered qi, though she doubted anything she could think of would withstand that power.

Before she could attempt any defense, Feng Yu yanked her sideways. The world spun as they tumbled. Feng Yu’s arm locked around her waist, pulling her into the bronze collection device.

Hundreds of pearlescent scales lined the interior like scattered coins stuck in a vending machine. The interior glowed with the faint spiritual energy.

“Help me form a barrier!” Feng Yu raised her palm in an unfamiliar gesture, eyes squeezing shut in concentration.

Golden light sparked between her fingers, spreading outward to seal the bell’s opening. Xiulan stared at the shimmering barrier.

Great idea, but have you forgotten that I don’t know these techniques yet?

The serpent’s attack resonated through the bronze as it washed over them. Blue energy thrummed against gold, flooding the chamber with blinding light.

The collection device rocketed downward with them inside it, spinning dizzyingly as trees and rocks below vaporized in the onslaught of spiritual power.

Bitter cold seeped through the bronze surface, biting into Xiulan’s skin and making her bones ache. Her gaze snapped to Feng Yu, who maintained the barrier with nothing but a makeshift loincloth fashioned from her torn sash.

Shit. The cold will kill her before we land.

Xiulan gritted her teeth and grabbed Feng Yu’s free hand. The meridians beneath her skin pulsed with untapped potential. She closed her eyes, focusing on directing her qi outward.

The energy trickled into Feng Yu’s palm like water searching for a path through stone. Each attempt to navigate the complex network met resistance. Her qi thread wavered, losing direction in the maze-like pathways.

Suddenly, Feng Yu was there, and her grip tightened around the small needle Xiulan offered. She pulled the qi through the intricate passages like a runner navigating a maze for the millionth time.

The ground rushed up to meet them. Less than ten meters.

The qi thread found its target—and erupted. Raw power ripped from Xiulan’s dantian in a violent surge. The force drove the air from her lungs and doubled her over, bile rising in her throat as her body registered the sudden emptiness where vital energy had resided a breath before.

The bronze bell’s descent slowed. Ice crystals falling around them suddenly hung suspended in the air. Their momentum bled away until the collection device settled onto the frost-covered ground with a gentle thud. The frozen mud burned at Xiulan’s skin as everything came to a stop.

Feng Yu’s breath turned into mist as she stood up and shoved the bell off them to reveal the sky.

Xiulan puffed, her abused body and meridians suddenly protesting all at once.

An enraged roar shook the air above. The serpent launched another azure sphere toward a distant peak. The mountain’s crown exploded in a shower of pulverized stone and spiritual energy.

It seemed to have lost interest in them.

But she didn’t think it would calm down for a while.

Standard Post-Trauma Sisterly Bonding

True friendship reveals itself in moments of shared vulnerability. When two cultivators trust enough to rest in each other's presence, their bond transcends mere alliance.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

The ancient dawn serpent’s roaring tirade echoed through the mountains, each blast of spiritual energy demolishing peak after peak until it vanished into the distant clouds. Xiulan stared across the lake, the entire valley writ with a trail of cataclysmic destruction.

Where pristine forest had stood, only splinters and crushed logs remained. The lake’s surface had dropped dramatically, exposing mud-slicked rocks along its banks.

Life crept back slowly. Massive tree-eaters lumbered through the destruction, claiming the few remaining stands of intact forest. Smaller creatures emerged from hiding places to scavenge through the wreckage. The surviving trees swayed in the spiritual-charged breeze, their leaves rustling with an almost metallic sound.

“Let’s get you dressed.” Xiulan supported Feng Yu as they made their way to the ancient oak that had somehow weathered the serpent’s rampage. Their travel pack still hung securely in its branches, protected by the tree’s surviving canopy.

Feng Yu remained oddly quiet while Xiulan helped her into fresh clothes. The spirit stones pulsed with healing energy as Xiulan pressed them against their injuries. Though the spiritual and physical damage faded, exhaustion weighed heavily on them.

Xiulan guided her companion back to their up-turned bell, but Feng Yu slumped against the bronze collection device, eyelids drooping.

“Rest here.” Xiulan squeezed Feng Yu’s shoulder. “I’ll gather what we can.”

Dawn serpent scales littered the ground like fallen leaves after an autumn storm. Each one gleamed with residual spiritual energy, creating a carpet of pearlescent light across the ravaged earth.

She moved methodically through the destruction, collecting scales one by one. Her secondary travel pack grew heavier with each addition. The sheer number of scales boggled her mind—thousands scattered in every direction.

Xiulan paused every few minutes, glancing toward the shore where Feng Yu slept against the bronze device.

After two hours of gathering, her pack couldn’t hold any more. She returned to Feng Yu’s side, pressing gentle fingers against the other girl’s wrist to check her pulse. Though weaker than usual, qi flowed steadily through Feng Yu’s meridians.

The massive fireballs must have drained her completely.

There were limits to how many times you could refill your dantian in a short time, although she had never reached hers. Feng Yu had likely pushed far beyond normal limits.

Xiulan shifted to sit, guiding her friend’s head onto her lap. The devastation stretched endlessly, scattered with countless more scales from the ancient serpent’s massive form.

A short while later, a movement caught her attention—a dawn serpent slithered past their position toward the lake, scales glinting in the light.

The air filled with a symphony of hisses. Xiulan stiffened as hundreds of dawn serpents emerged from the wreckage and tree lines, their scaled bodies flowing toward the water.

Was that ancient beast simply a little dawn serpent that grew massive over millennia? The thought sparked curiosity as she observed the smaller creatures dive into the lake—their ancestral home?

The implications twisted through her mind. In ten thousand years, would another monster emerge from the water? Would future cultivators face the same battle she and Feng Yu had barely survived?

Xiulan’s hand drifted to Feng Yu’s shoulder, gentle strokes meant to check on her companion’s wellbeing. Feng Yu responded by rolling closer, wrapping both arms around Xiulan’s waist in a vise-like grip.

“I’m not a pillow, Feng Yu.” Xiulan stiffened.

No response came except deeper breathing as Feng Yu burrowed closer, clearly claiming Xiulan as her personal cushion.

Okay, it turned out she was indeed a pillow.

The dawn serpents continued their procession toward the lake, but Xiulan found herself trapped by her sleeping friend’s determined cuddles.

How long does she plan to sleep? Xiulan shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position without disturbing Feng Yu. Still, the warmth of another person pressed against her slowly melted away the lingering tension from their battle, and her own exhaustion crept in, her eyelids growing heavy.

If we’re going to waste the day anyway...

Xiulan let her eyes drift closed, the comfort of human contact pushing back her usual worries. Sleep beckoned, promising respite from the chaos of the past hours.

Xiulan woke with a start. The song of insects filled the air, mingling with a brisk breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and crushed vegetation. Moonlight reflected off the lake, casting an eerie glow over the valley. The devastation from their earlier battle lay stark against the serene backdrop.

“Feng Yu?” Xiulan’s voice broke the silence. No answer. She scanned the area, heart pounding. The other girl was nowhere in sight.

The collection device had been turned open-side up. White sparkles shone as little white dawn serpent scales overflowed from inside it.

Wait. What?

Xiulan scrambled to her feet, her travel pack snagging on her ankle and nearly tripping her. She steadied herself and checked the pack—completely full of scales. She turned to the collection device. It, too, brimmed with scales. The entire area around them in the valley had been cleared out, leaving only a sparse scattering of scales in the distance.

Feng Yu must have collected them. Xiulan’s gaze darted around, searching for her friend.

“Feng Yu?” she called again, anxiety creeping into her voice.

Had she left her here alone? Gone?

“Xiulan.” Feng Yu’s voice came from the lake shore, hidden by a pile of crushed wood.

Instant relief washed over Xiulan. Not alone. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and headed toward her friend.

Feng Yu sat by the lake, her silhouette framed by the moonlit water. She looked up as Xiulan approached, a tired but satisfied smile on her face.

“You did all this?” Xiulan gestured to the overflowing collection device and her bulging travel pack.

Feng Yu nodded, brushing a strand of sandy brown hair from her face. “Couldn’t let you do all the work.”

Xiulan knelt beside her, the cool night air wrapping around them both. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Feng Yu wouldn’t look at her. Xiulan frowned.

“Is something wrong?” Xiulan studied Feng Yu’s profile against the water.

“We agreed to split everything fifty-fifty, but...” Feng Yu’s shoulders hunched inward. “What if we found something that couldn’t be split?”

The vulnerability in Feng Yu’s tone made Xiulan pause. Tales of cultivator friendships shattering over rare treasures echoed through her mind—a common tragedy in a ruthless world.

“Did you find something good in the lake?” Xiulan kept her voice gentle.

Feng Yu’s muscles locked tight. A faint tremor ran through her hands as wisps of qi leaked from her meridians, vibrating with an unmistakable fear. The powerful, more experienced Feng Yu—who could easily overpower her and take everything—sat paralyzed by terror.

Had something like this happened to her in the past? Was it a painful scar?

Xiulan shifted behind the other girl, wrapping her arms around Feng Yu’s shoulders and resting her chin in the crook of her neck. Feng Yu twisted to stare at her with wide, bewildered amber eyes.

“If my big martial sister found something amazing that she wants or needs, I’d be thrilled for her.” Xiulan squeezed her friend’s shoulders.

“But...” Feng Yu’s confusion radiated through her rigid posture.

The reaction made sense. In cultivation, advancement demanded ruthlessness; kill or be killed left little room for compassion. This belief permeated every corner of their world.

Yet, if pure ruthlessness ruled supreme, none would survive long enough to cultivate at all.

Xiulan gazed across the moonlit lake. The story of Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles surfaced: tales of sects and schools bound by ancient oaths and modern ambitions—a complex web of alliances and betrayals that shaped the fate of Arinthia.

“The guardian deity sacrificed everything to create the four seals.” Xiulan reached out with her left hand and traced patterns in the sand. “They protected the land from demonic cultivators who would drain everything dry. Gave everyone—mortal and immortal—a chance to make their own path.”

The sand shifted under her fingertips as she drew the ancient seal patterns from the game. Strange how clear those memories had become when she had only seen them on loading splash screens.

“I’ve thought about where I stand in all this.” Xiulan tilted her gaze to meet Feng Yu’s. “The innocent deserve protection and the freedom to live their lives. I want to help them when it is possible. But those who hurt my friends or family?” She clenched her fist, crushing the sand patterns. “Complete devastation awaits them. No mercy for those who threaten what I cherish.”

Moonlight reflected off the lake’s surface, casting rippling shadows across their faces. Xiulan leaned in and pressed closer.

“The people close to me deserve to be guarded, cherished, honored. Protected with everything I have.” She stared into the other girl’s eyes. “Does that sound too naïve?”

Feng Yu glanced at the ruined sand patterns. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t intend to die.” Xiulan traced another pattern in the sand. “And I won’t put myself last either. These dawn serpent scales will help Mei Chen, but the journey has also strengthened me. You taught me so much already—if you found something amazing too, isn’t that wonderful?”

Feng Yu twisted the fabric of her robes between her fingers. Moonlight caught the subtle tremor return to her hands at the mention of her discovery.

“Besides.” Xiulan brushed sand from her fingers. “Weren’t you the one who called me sister first?”

Feng Yu hunched forward, amber eyes fixed on the ground. “That was... I was...”

“Using me because an alchemist would be useful?” Xiulan kept her tone gentle. “Had ulterior motives from the start?”

A weak nod answered her question. Feng Yu’s shoulders drew even tighter, as if bracing for rejection or anger.

“Everyone uses each other in some way. That’s not wrong.” She squeezed Feng Yu’s shoulders. “But you’ll have to take responsibility.”

Feng Yu twisted around, amber eyes wide. “What?”

“You declared yourself my martial sister.” Xiulan brushed a stray hair from Feng Yu’s face. “My blood sisters hated me. They tried to kill me. But you—you treated me well. Protected me. Taught me.” She pressed closer. “So I claim you back.”

The night breeze whispered through the leaves as Xiulan tightened her embrace, leaning her cheek against Feng Yu’s. “And I will never let you go. You’re mine now.” Her words carried the weight of a vow. “Maybe it’s only been a little over a week, but I was very alone and in trouble, ripe for finding a family. So if my big sister finds something good, I’ll be overjoyed.”

They sat in silence for a while. The tension melted from Feng Yu’s muscles as she relaxed into Xiulan’s embrace. Both watched silver ripples chase across the dark water.

“Most of my blood sisters hate me, too.” Feng Yu shifted against Xiulan’s shoulder. “Only two of my brothers show any kindness. My oldest sister—she stays fair, at least.”

Xiulan remained still, letting Feng Yu find her words.

“That’s part of why I left.” Feng Yu traced her own little idle patterns in the sand surrounding Xiulan’s. “I couldn’t stand the constant fighting anymore. Seeing the world seemed like a perfect excuse to get away.”

“Seeing the world?” Xiulan blinked. “You must be from a cultivator family, then?”

A soft laugh escaped Feng Yu’s lips. “Something like that.”

The pieces clicked together in Xiulan’s mind. A noble family, perhaps? Duke Fang Liang ruled Stonehaven with his iron grip. Fang... Feng... The names sounded close enough. But no—this wasn’t the time to pry. The vulnerability in Feng Yu’s posture spoke volumes about her need for simple companionship, not interrogation.

But there was one little question that kept throttling her curiosity.

“Though I do wonder what it was you found.” Xiulan hummed thoughtfully. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Feng Yu shifted, conflict evident in her rigid posture. After several heartbeats, she exhaled softly. “I’ll tell you later. Not right now.”

“That’s great!” Xiulan brightened. “I can’t wait to find out what neat thing it will be. Maybe a spatial storage ring?”

A quiet chuckle escaped Feng Yu. “I wish. That would have been really useful.”

Standard Merchandiser Bullying

Justice flows like water—it may be delayed, but it cannot be denied. Those who think themselves clever enough to trap others often find themselves caught in webs of their own making.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan stared at the collection device overflowing with dawn serpent scales. The destroyed cargo harnesses left them with no choice but to carry it together. Scales spilled over the edges despite the hastily secured tarp, leaving a glowing trail that marked their descent from the valley.

“Careful with the next step.” Feng Yu braced against the device’s weight.

Xiulan’s muscles burned as they coordinated their movements. “Ready.” She slid the device to the ledge’s edge.

The metal groaned as Feng Yu supported the full weight. Xiulan leapt down to the next outcropping, raising her arms. “Now.”

They repeated the exhausting dance down countless ledges. Each movement drained more qi from Xiulan’s meridians. The shorter ledges near the bottom proved easier to navigate, though one of them still needed to descend first each time.

When Fershere’s distant outline finally emerged through the morning haze, Xiulan’s legs trembled.

“Let’s rest,” she said, sinking onto a boulder.

The quiet mountain air hummed with qi—different from the valley’s resonance. Xiulan closed her eyes, replenishing her depleted dantian while noting how the background energy had shifted.

Feng Yu had been right about the different regions having different frequencies. She had missed the hard dividing line, though. Lifting had taken too much concentration.

“We should move.” Feng Yu stood, brushing dirt from her robes. “Others will want to see what we collected.”

Xiulan nodded and pushed herself up. The dirt road leading to the abandoned gold mine beckoned ahead. “Should we retrieve the wagon at the gate?”

“One guards the scales while the other fetches it.” Feng Yu adjusted her grip on the device. “We can’t leave these unattended.”

“Agreed.” Xiulan repositioned herself, and they both lifted.

The descent proved less treacherous on the gentle slope, though Xiulan’s arms burned between every pulse of qi. Sweat dampened her robes as she matched Feng Yu’s careful steps.

A wagon rattled into view, kicking up dust as it approached. Xiulan squinted at the familiar figures—her two drivers waved from atop the bench. She stopped, signaling Feng Yu to set down their burden.

“How did you know to come?” Xiulan brushed dirt from her hands.

The lead driver straightened his worn leather vest. “We took shifts at the gate, Miss Lin. Soon as we spotted you, we readied everything and rode out.”

“That’s remarkably helpful.” Feng Yu stretched her shoulders.

Xiulan laughed. “Good initiative indeed.”

“You’ve treated us well, Miss Lin.” The driver scratched his stubbled chin. “The pay and tips have been generous. We considered hiring extra hands but weren’t certain you’d approve.”

“This is perfect.” Xiulan moved to the wagon’s side. “We can manage the loading ourselves.”

Together, they hoisted the device onto the wooden bed. Xiulan secured it with hemp ropes while Feng Yu tested the knots. After stowing their bulging travel packs, Xiulan sank onto the side of the wagon and exhaled deeply. Feng Yu scaled the wagon with practiced grace, settling cross-legged atop the tarp-covered scales.

“Why do you always like the high perch?” Xiulan tilted her head.

“Height enhances qi sensing range.” Feng Yu adjusted her position. “Gives a better view of potential threats.”

“That makes sense.” Xiulan nodded.

The drivers clicked their tongues, turning the horses toward Fershere. The wheels creaked as they started the journey back to the city gates.

Light blue and white sashes fluttered in the breeze as city guards scrutinized their wagon. Xiulan counted at least a dozen more patrolling the walls and gates than she remembered from their departure. The heightened security pricked at her awareness as they rolled through the crowded streets.

Once they arrived, they realized the stable’s weathered wooden walls offered little protection for their precious cargo.

Xiulan stepped down from the wagon, muscles protesting after the long ride. “We should visit the treasure pavilion once we’re presentable.”

“I planned to suggest the same.” Feng Yu jumped down beside her. “Valuables tend to sprout legs and walk away in places like this.”

The innkeeper bowed as they entered, dispatching servants who returned with steaming food trays and two wooden barrels of water. Back in their room, Feng Yu dipped her fingers into each barrel. Steam curled up from the surface as the water heated.

Xiulan plucked at her mud-caked sleeve. “These clothes are beyond saving. We’ll need to visit a tailor.”

“After the pavilion.” Feng Yu grabbed a clean cloth. “Safety first.”

The soap’s herbal scent filled the air as Xiulan scrubbed away layers of grime and dust. Hot water relaxed her muscles, washing away the evidence of their mountain adventure. Clean and refreshed, she pulled on her last unworn outfit: simple but serviceable dark blue robes.

While Feng Yu finished, Xiulan sorted through their packs. She separated the gathered flowers and stuffed them into jars. The roots went in right behind them. Her second pack bulged with dawn serpent scales, their white surfaces catching the light.

How many spirit stones would all these fetch? Xiulan wondered as she tied the bags closed.

Feng Yu emerged wearing a pristine white martial robe that highlighted her amber eyes. The torn red sash still wrapped around her waist drew Xiulan’s attention.

“What about your sash?” Xiulan pointed at the frayed edges.

“I’ll keep it.” Feng Yu touched the fabric with unusual gentleness. “It needs repair, but it’s important to me.”

“Fair enough.” Xiulan gestured to the organized packs on the floor. “I’ve sorted everything—flowers and roots in one, scales in the other. How do you want to handle the selling?”

“I already got what I needed.” Feng Yu waved dismissively. “Handle it however you want.”

“Huh... okay.” Xiulan blinked at the unexpected response.

“We should purchase supplies while we’re here.” Xiulan adjusted the pack straps. “I can get the things we need in Blackmere, but the prices would be higher, I think.”

“Definitely.” Feng Yu picked up one of the packs. “Did you make a list?”

“That depends on how much we make from the sales.”

“Oh, right.”

Xiulan shouldered her pack, distributing the weight evenly. The herbs and roots shifted inside as she adjusted the straps. “Ready?”

“Always.” Feng Yu hefted the second pack.

At the stable, their drivers jumped to attention. The collection device rattled as they guided the wagon into the street.

“We’ll walk,” Xiulan said. “Follow at a distance.”

Feng Yu strode ahead, and Xiulan matched her pace, observing the flow of people around them. Merchants haggled over prices while workers hauled crates between shops.

The guard station ahead broke the pattern. Two cultivators in ochre green and black uniforms stood watch instead of the typical city guard blues. Xiulan tensed at the unexpected change but maintained her pace behind Feng Yu.

Without breaking stride, Feng Yu pulled out an ivory travel pass with a red tassel. The guards studied it briefly before nodding them through.

The cramped, dusty streets transformed into wide, clean thoroughfares. Signs adorned the buildings, each declaring their specialized purpose: “Storage,” “Spiritual Ore,” “Spiritual Cloth,” “Junk Stone.”

Smoke billowed from a smithy’s chimney, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal accompanying the “Weapons” sign above its door. A steady stream of customers flowed in and out of a larger building marked simply as “Spiritual Plants and Pills.”

Xiulan glanced up, spotting an almost invisible dome of white spider webs stretching across the sky. A laugh bubbled up as recognition hit her. No one in the pavilion would need to worry about the weather.

Holy shit, it’s the Mall of America for cultivators.

Xiulan followed Feng Yu through winding streets that grew wider and more ornate. A tower pierced the sky ahead, its golden spires catching the morning light. The gaudy sign “SELL YOUR TREASURE HERE” blazed across its facade in a brilliant and steadily pulsing spiritual fire.

Below, a wide ramp descended beneath the tower where wagons formed neat lines. Workers in grey robes hustled between vehicles, checking manifests and directing traffic. Above, broad marble stairs swept upward to an elaborate second floor entrance where cultivators streamed in and out.

“Are these all treasure pavilion disciples?” Xiulan watched robed figures weave through the crowd.

“Outer disciples mostly.” Feng Yu nodded toward a group examining spiritual ores. “The craftspeople are inner disciples, except for their apprentices.”

Xiulan counted at least fifty cultivators visible from their position. “I’ve never seen so many gathered in one place.”

“Well, you’re from Blackmere.” Feng Yu shrugged. “Places like this exist all over, but Blackmere lacks... everything, really.”

“No need to drive that spike deeper into my heart.” Xiulan pressed a hand to her chest in mock pain.

Feng Yu gestured to their drivers, pointing toward the underground loading area. “Wait in line down there and watch the wagon. No one should interfere until we handle the paperwork.”

At the top of the stairs, Feng Yu indicated a smaller entrance set into the ornate facade. “That’s where we sell our things.”

Private selling booths lined the walls in an orderly fashion, each separated by wooden dividers that offered the illusion of privacy.

Feng Yu guided Xiulan to an empty booth. “Pull this golden cord when you’re ready.” She pointed to an ornate tassel hanging near the entrance. “A merchandiser will assist you.”

“You’re not staying?” Xiulan turned toward her companion.

“Business to handle.” Feng Yu smiled. “I’ll return shortly.” She placed the second travel pack beside Xiulan and slipped away through the curtains.

Xiulan surveyed the polished wooden counter that dominated the small space. The hall in the center of the room was wide open as multiple treasure pavilion staff moved back and forth, tending to business.

She shook her head. Focus on the task.

First, she needed to set aside supplies for herself. She counted out five hundred and sixty dawn serpent scales. Four water roots joined the pile, along with a glass jar packed with chromatic flowers. She tucked those precious resources into the corner.

The remaining inventory spread across the selling surface in neat rows. Forty-four water roots gleamed with residual spiritual energy. Twelve glass jars stuffed with chromatic flowers added splashes of shifting color to the display.

If only I had my mortar and pestle from home, Xiulan thought while eyeing the whole flowers. Ground ingredients would fetch a better price than raw materials.

She simply put the travel pack full of scales on the counter without taking them out except for a set of twenty. The biggest problem was she had so many of them, and that wasn’t even including the collection device stuffed full of them back at the stable—flooding the market would devastate their value.

She needed a way to sell them all at a good price.

Xiulan reached up and pulled the golden cord.

The cord swayed as a woman in purple merchandiser robes swept into the booth. Sharp green eyes assessed the displayed goods while she smoothed her black hair.

“I am Yu Pei. How may I assist you today?”

“Lin Xiulan.” Xiulan straightened her posture. “I’ve come to sell some of the things my friend and I acquired.”

Yu Pei’s fingers danced across the items. “Forty-four water roots, twelve sets of chromatic flowers...” Her gaze skimmed over the dawn serpent scales. “One hundred spirit stones for the lot, not including the scales.”

Xiulan blinked at the lowball offer. “The water roots alone should fetch three spirit stones each.”

Yu Pei’s nose wrinkled. “Ninety-four spirit stones then. The flowers are clearly worth half a stone, not one. I made a mistake in your favor initially.”

What? Xiulan’s jaw clenched at the merchant’s sudden shift. The negotiation spiraled away from any semblance of fairness.

Before Xiulan could protest, Yu Pei clicked her tongue. “Perhaps fifty spirit stones would be more appropriate? These water roots appear... substandard.”

“They’re not—” Xiulan cut off as Yu Pei stared down her nose. “Fine. Ninety-six for those items.” She gestured toward the pack. “But what about the scales?”

Yu Pei’s eyes narrowed. “Is the entire pack full? How many, exactly?”

“I haven’t counted precisely.” Xiulan kept her voice steady. “But they’re all premium quality—harvested just yesterday from dawn serpents.”

Yu Pei plucked one scale from the display, turning it under the spirit stone lights. The iridescent surface caught the glow, reflecting rainbow patterns across her face.

Xiulan forced her face to remain neutral despite the burning indignation at Yu Pei’s earlier lowball tactics. The scales would make up for it—they had to.

Yu Pei tapped the scale against the polished counter. “This is quite a collection to gather so quickly. Dawn serpent scales must be harvested while the beasts still live. How did you manage such a feat alone?”

“I had assistance.” Xiulan shrugged. “Though I handled them personally. The serpents proved quite... vigorous.” Not technically a lie—I did grab that one personally before throwing it in the trap.

“Ah.” Yu Pei set the scale down. “With so many flooding the market at once, I cannot offer premium pricing. You should have been more careful—or your group less enthusiastic in their collection.”

“Ha.” Xiulan leaned forward. “And what exactly is this ‘not so premium’ price?”

Yu Pei hummed, examining the bulging pack. “One spirit stone per hundred scales seems fair. This pack likely contains ten thousand or so. You could make approximately one hundred spirit stones for it.” She smiled thinly. “Though anyone else hoping to sell scales will curse your name for months after this price drop.”

“But how many will you purchase?” Xiulan asked carefully.

“What do you mean?” Yu Pei straightened. “I’m offering to buy all your scales today.”

Lightning sparked through Xiulan’s meridians at those words. She fought to keep her expression neutral. “That deal sounds perfectly acceptable. I’m quite pleased you’ll buy all of my scales today.”

Yu Pei frowned slightly but pulled out a sheet of parchment, carefully inking the agreement.

Xiulan read each line carefully when Yu Pei finished. She made sure the term she especially wanted was inked correctly. It was.

After confirming, Yu Pei placed her red stamp on the bottom. Xiulan sliced her thumb and sealed it with her blood.

“Congratulations. I’m sure you’re pleased with your newfound wealth.” Yu Pei spread the scales across the counter, fingers blurring as she counted.

“You should get some help,” Xiulan said. “This could take quite a while.”

“I assure you my cultivation allows me to count with extreme precision and speed.” Yu Pei’s hands continued their rapid movements. “I’ll have this pack done shortly.”

“No, I mean, you’ll need help counting all the rest of them.”

Yu Pei’s hands froze. “The... rest?”

“Yes.” Xiulan smiled sweetly. “I have the remainder waiting in the cargo area below.”

Yu Pei’s face twitched. The merchant drew a sharp breath through her nose before yanking at the golden cord. Two outer disciples in grey robes appeared instantly.

“Go to the loading area,” Yu Pei snapped. “Fetch Miss Lin’s cargo immediately.”

The disciples bowed and hurried away while Yu Pei resumed counting with renewed intensity. Her fingers moved even faster now, practically invisible as she sorted through the massive pile.

Xiulan settled back against her chair, unable to suppress a satisfied smirk. The contract specified all her scales, today, at one spirit stone per hundred. Yu Pei couldn’t back out now.

“How are things progressing?” Feng Yu stepped through the curtain.

Xiulan passed her the agreement. “Very well!”

Feng Yu scanned the document and smiled. “That’s great!”

The double doors burst open as six outer disciples staggered in, muscles straining under the weight of the bronze collection device. Their grey robes darkened with sweat while they maneuvered the massive bell through the entrance.

Yu Pei shot up from her counting position, knocking over a neat pile of scales. Her sharp green eyes widened at the sight of the device. She lunged forward, yanking the tarp free.

Iridescent scales cascaded onto the polished floor in a glittering avalanche. The rainbow shimmer caught in the spirit stone lights, casting dancing patterns across the wooden walls. More scales spilled out as Yu Pei tipped the bell, creating a mountain of precious materials that spread across the selling floor.

“You...!” Yu Pei stabbed a finger toward Xiulan.

The accumulated wealth drew every eye from the open side of the hall. Merchants abandoned their negotiations. Cultivators stopped mid-transaction. Even the outer disciples froze, staring at the fortune scattered across the floor.

“Guards!” Yu Pei’s shriek pierced the stunned silence. “We have a scammer! Arrest her!”

Two burly guards materialized from the crowd. Their iron grip locked around Xiulan’s arms before she could react. They yanked her backward and toward a set of metal doors.

Feng Yu stood frozen, mouth agape, contract still in her hand.

What the fuck!

“Feng Yu! Hire a lawyer!” Xiulan shouted.

Profitable Winds

In the game of power, masters move pieces with deliberate grace, each gesture carrying weight beyond mortal comprehension. The young often mistake their calculated movements for mere chance, failing to see the intricate web being woven around them. Remember: when ancient powers take notice, it is rarely by accident.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Polished marble floors lined the Treasure Pavilion’s prison hallway. It was distinctly at odds with the states of the cells lining the walls, which were rough stone and filthy.

Xiulan bristled at the rough treatment. She could walk on her own. There was no need to lay hands on her!

“Release me at once! I am Lin Xiulan, sister to Lord Lin of Blackmere County!”

The guards maintained their iron grip on her arms, their qi-enhanced strength making resistance futile. Their cultivation levels had to be at least Qi Refinement, possibly even Foundation Forming, based on how easily they overpowered her.

“Silence,” the left guard barked. “Or face additional punishment.”

Xiulan huffed indignantly as they dragged her past rows of cells. Unwashed prisoners pressed against the bars, their faces twisted with malicious glee.

“Look who got caught cheating the Treasure Pavilion!” a scarred man cackled. “Hope you enjoy the slave mines, pretty girl. That’s where they send all the scammers!”

“Better get used to breaking rocks!” another prisoner shouted.

She was relieved when the guards shoved her into an individual cell. But the heckling didn’t stop. The assholes in the mass lockup kept going on and on.

Xiulan spotted a small pebble near her foot. In one fluid motion, she scooped it up and flicked it with her thumb. The stone ricocheted off the cell bars, bouncing between prisoners who yelped in pain.

“You little—” A cultivator in tattered robes hurled a handful of stones back at her, bouncing off walls and into her cell.

More prisoners joined in. Small rocks pelted her from multiple directions. She gritted her teeth as the impacts stung against her skin.

“ENOUGH!” A guard’s voice thundered through the hall. He stormed down the corridor, slamming metal shutters closed on each cell. The solid panels clanged shut, cutting off the jeers and taunts.

Along with the light.

Darkness enveloped Xiulan as her own cell’s shutter slammed closed. She slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest. Cultivator prison. This is just perfect.

The shocked expression on Feng Yu’s face flashed through her mind. What happens now?

The darkness pressed against Xiulan’s eyes as minutes stretched into hours. She traced patterns on the cold stone floor, counting breaths until the numbers blurred together. Eventually, the metal shutter’s screech jolted her from a half-doze.

Light flooded the cell. Xiulan blinked rapidly, her heart hammering as Feng Yu’s silhouette materialized beyond the bars. They couldn’t have arrested her, too...

“Come on.” Feng Yu tapped her foot against the polished floor. “Or did you grow to like it in here?”

Relief surged through Xiulan’s chest. She sprang up and rushed forward as the cell door creaked open, barely stopping herself from throwing her arms around Feng Yu. Right. Noble decorum.

Her friend released a weak laugh as the guard sealed the cell behind them. The shuttered cells lining their path remained silent and dark.

“Did you get a lawyer?” Xiulan whispered as they followed the guard down the corridor.

Feng Yu’s eyebrow arched. “A lawyer? For what? Even with your contract, we couldn’t afford one.” She snorted. “What is this, the Golden Court settling sect disputes?”

“Then... how did I get out?”

Feng Yu lifted a bronze-gilded container, spiritual glass gleaming in the torchlight. The contract floated inside, pristine and official. “This, obviously. I protested to the pavilion master.”

Xiulan blinked at the contract. “Oh.”

The guards escorted them through winding corridors of polished stone and gleaming bronze fixtures. Feng Yu stayed close. “The pavilion master wants to speak with you directly.”

The qi density increased with each step upward, pressing against Xiulan’s skin like thick honey. When they reached an ornate door decorated with spirit beast carvings, the pressure doubled. The guards ushered them inside before pulling the doors shut with a resonant boom.

An elderly man stepped out from behind a carved screen. His white beard was impeccably groomed, his robes pristine and flowing with spiritual energy. The qi radiating from him struck Xiulan like a physical force—Golden Core, at minimum.

“This novice greets the Honorable Spiritual Master of the Treasure Pavilion!” Xiulan and Feng Yu saluted in perfect unison.

The pavilion master waved off their formality and gestured to two embroidered cushions beside a low table. “Sit. Take tea while we discuss matters.”

Sweet aromatics wafted up as he poured the tea for them with practiced motions. The scent reminded Xiulan of Heaven Grass tea, but the taste was slightly sweeter. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as he served them personally—a promising sign.

“You caused quite a commotion in my hall today, did you not?” The master fixed his gaze on Xiulan.

“Uh... Master, I did not intend—”

He sighed and shook his head. “Your friend explained the situation.”

The master’s hands moved with deliberate grace as he continued serving the tea. “My disciple’s lack of judgment and training has damaged our pavilion’s reputation. She even ensured we could not correct the transaction without losing even more face.”

He withdrew a roll of parchment from his sleeve and slid it across the lacquered table. “The spirit stones would prove impossible to transport. This promissory note, redeemable at any Treasure Pavilion, will serve instead.”

Xiulan accepted the roll with both hands, bowing deeply from her seated position. The paper crinkled softly between her fingers. She unfolded it slightly to read the amount.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Ninety-six stones for the roots and flowers. Nine thousand four hundred fifty-one scales in her pack turned into an additional ninety-five spirit stones.

And the bell…

Six hundred thirty-six thousand one hundred seventy-two scales turned into six thousand three hundred sixty-two spirit stones.

The note promised six thousand five hundred fifty-three stones.

It was… outrageous.

No wonder Yu Pei had panicked. They were probably torturing her or trying to figure out how to sell her soul to recoup the damage.

Xiulan lifted her head. “This humble one thanks the honorable master for upholding the Treasure Pavilion’s reputation. Despite today’s... misunderstanding, I will speak nothing but praise for the pavilion’s fair dealings.”

A rich chuckle rumbled from the master’s chest. “I should hope so.” He lifted his teacup, steam curling around his weathered features. “Especially given your connection to Master Qingfeng—or so your companion mentioned.”

Ice shot through Xiulan’s veins. Her gaze snapped to Feng Yu, who sat cross-legged on her cushion, sipping tea with perfect poise. Suddenly, it made a little more sense why they weren’t putting more effort into finding a way to remove her life so they could take back the deal somehow.

“I needed to resolve things quickly.” Feng Yu shrugged, setting down her cup with a soft clink. “The connection seemed relevant.”

Xiulan drew a steadying breath. “Yes, I work under Master Qingfeng’s guidance. The dawn serpent scales were collected as part of our agreement.”

“Fascinating.” The master stroked his beard, spiritual energy rippling through the silvery strands. “Dawn serpent scales have limited applications. Though they would create exceptional spiritual armor.” His eyes glinted over his teacup. “Perhaps Master Qingfeng has taken up alchemy in his spare time?”

Sweat trickled down Xiulan’s spine, her robes sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She bowed again, deeper this time. “I couldn’t possibly comment on the master’s personal pursuits without his presence.”

“Oh ho!” The master’s laugh boomed through the chamber. “So the prospective disciple who drives such lopsided bargains with her peers shows proper respect for her teacher.”

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks as she stared into her teacup. “The deal might have been... somewhat one-sided. I might have reacted badly to—”

“No need to continue.” The pavilion master lifted his hand. “The Treasure Pavilion records all negotiations. I reviewed your interaction personally.” He took another sip of tea, the steam curling around his face. “Yu Pei’s initial haggling created little harmony. She provoked the bear, as they say.”

Xiulan’s shoulders slumped, tension draining from her shoulders. “Hah... Master has seen through everything.”

The pavilion master reached into his flowing robes and withdrew a small lacquered box. The wood gleamed with spiritual inscriptions as he slid it across the table toward Feng Yu.

“Master?” Feng Yu blinked at the box, her teacup frozen halfway to her lips.

“I must reward you as well.” The master’s eyes crinkled with amusement as spiritual energy danced across the box’s surface.

The pavilion master turned to Xiulan. “Your companion proved quite loyal. She demanded an immediate audience despite risking her own freedom.” His gaze shifted to Feng Yu, eyes twinkling. “And despite risking some other... matters as well?”

Feng Yu shifted on her cushion, the embroidered silk rustling beneath her. “This humble one merely acted as duty required.” She bowed low, forehead nearly touching the lacquered table.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the master’s chest as he gestured to the box.

Feng Yu’s fingers trembled slightly while lifting the lid. Inside, a luminescent orb cast rainbow-hued light across her face. The qi emanating from it tickled Xiulan’s senses—pure, untamed power.

“A prismatic beast's essence.” The master’s words carried the weight of mountains. “Since I cannot divine your elemental preference, you may choose whichever suits you.”

Blood drained from Feng Yu’s face, leaving her complexion ashen. Her hands froze on the box’s edges.

“It will certainly prove useful for you.” The master stroked his beard. “Considering...?”

“Master, this—this is too generous.” Feng Yu’s bow deepened further, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If you believe so...” The master’s eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge. “Then it must be an appropriate reward indeed.”

Feng Yu’s shoulders tensed before relaxing. She straightened, clutching the box close. “This disciple humbly accepts master’s profound generosity.”

Feng Yu snapped the lacquered box shut. Spiritual inscriptions pulsed across its surface, sealing the precious contents from degradation. The abrupt absence of the essence’s power left an emptiness in the air.

Questions bubbled in Xiulan’s mind as she studied Feng Yu’s careful movements. Why would someone at Feng Yu’s level need such a specific cultivation tool? Unless...

Understanding struck like lightning. The massive ancient serpent’s peculiar behavior—turning away, focusing destruction on the mountaintops instead of them—suddenly made perfect sense.

Xiulan kept her face carefully neutral. Good job, Feng Yu! Good Job!

Master Yan cleared his throat, drawing Xiulan’s attention back to his weathered features. “Please inform Master Qingfeng that Yan Qingshi remembers him. Some of us would welcome his return to active circles.”

The master’s penetrating gaze fixed on Xiulan. “Perhaps he might share what promising young blood he discovered during his... isolation.”

A lump formed in Xiulan’s throat as the implications sank in. “This novice will convey your message faithfully.” Her stomach churned with sudden anxiety. Master Yan’s meaning couldn’t be clearer—and the weight of such attention sent chills down her spine.

Not great! Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to keep a low profile?

She glanced at Feng Yu. There was nothing subtle about her new martial sister.

A memory of Ren Chun raising his sword and shouting “Justice!” flashed.

Okay, maybe that hadn’t been realistic. Her own actions hadn’t been on the down-low either.

They needed to get back to Blackmere, and she needed to check on her family and Mei Chen. They’d been gone too long.

Xiulan set down her teacup and bowed deeply. “Honorable Master Yan, please forgive my rudeness, but I’ve lost track of time in your esteemed presence. Would the Treasure Pavilion still be open for purchases? I need thunder root and several other materials.”

“Oho. I believe thunder root should be in our stores. It’s valuable enough.” The spiritual energy in the room pulsed with his interest. “So I was correct about the alchemy, hmm?”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. Sweat beaded along her hairline as she stared at the intricate patterns woven into the cushion beneath her. Smooth. Real smooth.

“Do not worry.” He gestured toward the window. “Unlike sleepy Blackmere, commerce flows eternal in Fershere. Our Treasure Pavilion never rests—day or night. You’ll be able to complete your purchases before departing.”

“This humble one thanks Master Yan for his generosity.” Xiulan smiled and bowed again, relief flooding through her chest.

Luck was on her side… from being imprisoned to everything going right for once! Now that she had plenty of funds, what could go wrong?

Return Gust

The greatest treasures draw the darkest hearts, like moths to flame. A wise cultivator guards their fortune not through strength alone, but through discretion. For what remains hidden cannot be coveted, and what remains unknown cannot be stolen.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

How could things go so wrong?

Xiulan stared at the roll of half-finished talisman papers fluttering away behind the wagon as they dislodged themselves from the hasty placement under her travel pack.

An hour ago, she’d floated cross-legged atop the wagon while practicing basic formations under Feng Yu’s guidance. The gentle sway of the cart had made the delicate brush strokes challenging yet oddly enjoyable.

Now arrows whistled past her head as the wagon thundered down a forest path. Dust clouded behind them, rocks spraying from the wheels as their drivers pushed the straining horses to their limits.

“Faster, don’t stop for anything!” Feng Yu shouted from her position on top of the collection device.

The drivers cracked their whips. Sweat glistened on their foreheads as they urged the terrified horses forward.

An arrow streaked toward Xiulan’s chest. Feng Yu’s blade flashed with crimson light, incinerating the projectile mid-flight.

Two cultivators burst from the tree line, weapons drawn. Xiulan sprang to her feet, gathering qi in her palms. Her Thunder God Clap technique sent them flying backward, their bodies cracking against a massive oak trunk with a satisfying thud.

More arrows hissed through the air from mounted archers pursuing them. The bowmen stayed frustratingly outside the range of her thunder technique, their horses’ hooves drumming against the packed earth.

“Miss! In front!” One driver’s panicked voice cut through the chaos.

Xiulan spotted two cultivators ahead, making intricate hand gestures in the middle of the road. Those movements—they’re preparing a formation technique!

“Feng Yu! Road block in front!” Xiulan’s shout cut through the thundering of hooves and creaking wagon wheels.

Feng Yu spun toward the threat. Another volley of arrows streaked through the dust-filled air. Xiulan leaped to the back of the wagon, channeling qi through her meridians. The thunderclap technique burst from her palms, creating a vortex that scattered the arrows like twigs in a storm.

Damn it. Xiulan gritted her teeth. One middle range offensive technique wasn’t enough for this kind of fight. The limitations of her current abilities burned.

Above Feng Yu’s raised hands, a sphere of flame materialized—smaller than the inferno she’d unleashed against the ancient dawn serpent but still radiating intense heat. The orb pulsed once before launching a barrage of fire bolts. They streaked toward the road-blocking cultivators, leaving trails of super-heated air in their wake.

The horses shrieked and bucked against their reins as the waves of scorching heat passed over them. Both cultivators broke their formation stances and fled, their clothes and hair aflame. Their hastily constructed earthen barriers melted into smooth glass under the intense barrage.

The drivers screamed as their horses charged through the wall of flames. Heat seared Xiulan’s face. Smoke stung her eyes. The wagon wheels jolted against the newly formed glass beneath them, nearly throwing her off balance.

A fresh volley of arrows whistled through the dissipating inferno, all aimed at Feng Yu. Her blade danced in precise arcs, each movement deliberate and graceful. Steel rang against steel as her sword intercepted every projectile, sending them spinning harmlessly into the dust.

Xiulan braced against the wagon’s side, lungs burning from the smoke. “Are there more coming?”

“I think that—” Feng Yu started.

One of the pursuing archers raised his hands skyward. The air crystallized above him, forming a massive icicle that gleamed like polished crystal in the sunlight. The frozen spear launched forward with devastating speed.

Xiulan’s thunderclap technique burst from her palms, but the icicle plowed through the wave, undeterred. Feng Yu thrust her sword up into the hovering flame orb. Fire spiraled down the blade like a serpent, wreathing the steel in brilliant orange light. She pointed the blazing weapon at the incoming projectile, and the flames lashed out in a beam.

Ice met fire in an explosive collision. Steam erupted between them with a deafening hiss, enveloping the road in a scalding white cloud.

The steam billowed around the wagon as Xiulan steadied herself against the rocking motion.

“Really, this happens too often!” Xiulan shouted over the thundering hooves and creaking wheels.

“Everyone in Fershere probably heard about what happened in the trade hall before you even got out of jail!” Feng Yu deflected another arrow with a precise slash of her blade.

“Argh!” The shout burst from Xiulan’s throat.

Light from the flames glinted off another volley of arrows plummeting toward them. Feng Yu deflected them again and Xiulan positioned herself to defend the drivers’ exposed backs.

She spun her spear in a defensive pattern she’d learned during their training sessions—the weapon connected with an arrow, sending it spiraling to the side.

Heat radiated from Feng Yu’s blade as she drew another circle of flame. The sword swept horizontally behind the wagon, trailing fire like a burning brush stroke. A wall of fire erupted from the ground, spreading across the width of the road.

“What—” Xiulan stared at the blazing barrier.

Xiulan’s heart leaped into her throat as Feng Yu launched herself off the wagon, the sudden movement sending ripples through the wooden planks beneath her feet.

What the—should I stop the wagon!?

The thought barely registered before her attention locked onto Feng Yu sprinting toward the wall of flames. The fire cast dancing shadows across her friend’s determined face. Two mounted cultivators burst through the blazing barrier, their horses’ hooves striking sparks from the charred road.

Feng Yu met them at full sprint. Her sword flashed in a brutal arc, cleaving through both horse and rider on her right. In the same fluid motion, she jumped and twisted to drive her boot into the second rider’s chest. The impact launched him from his saddle with a satisfying crack.

Dust kicked up behind Feng Yu as she pivoted and raced back toward the wagon. Her legs blurred with impossible speed, outpacing even their galloping horses. The drivers shouted in amazement as she closed the distance.

Xiulan scrambled to the wagon’s edge and thrust out her hand. Their fingers locked together, and she pulled Feng Yu aboard with a sharp grunt. The wagon swayed from the added weight but held steady.

“That’s—” Feng Yu panted, brushing ash from her robes. “That’s all I could sense following us.”

“Will there be more?” Xiulan steadied herself against the rocking motion.

Feng Yu wiped sweat from her brow. “We shouldn’t risk stopping at any inns until we reach Blackmere.”

Xiulan stifled another yawn as she scanned the darkened road ahead. She and Feng Yu had taken turns keeping watch, neither willing to risk dropping their guard.

A broken stone marker emerged from the shadows, its weathered surface bearing the faded insignia of Blackmere County. Recognition sparked through her exhaustion.

The moment they crossed the boundary, Xiulan sensed the dramatic shift in the ambient qi. The energy thinned considerably—far more noticeable than the gradual changes between Fershere and Dawn Valley.

At least the attacks had stopped. Each mile between them and Fershere decreased the likelihood of another ambush. She hoped, anyway.

But the horses stumbled beneath them, their steps growing increasingly unsteady. Despite changing mounts at every opportunity along the road, a full day had passed since the last inn. Even in the cool night air, sweat matted their flanks.

Xiulan reached out and tapped Feng Yu’s shoulder. The other girl stretched, her joints popping as she twisted to face Xiulan.

“What is it?”

“We’re almost back to Blackmere proper,” Xiulan said. “But these horses won’t make it much further without rest.”

Feng Yu frowned and shook her head. “We shouldn’t stop now. Better to push through to the Treasure Pavilion and secure everything there first.”

Xiulan nodded decisively. “The drivers can take the horses to the manor stables. We’ll pull the wagon ourselves.”

Feng Yu froze, staring at Xiulan without blinking. The silence stretched for a full minute as moonlight cast shadows across her face. “You want us to pull the wagon? Like beasts of burden?”

“Yes.” Xiulan met her gaze steadily.

Feng Yu dropped her eyes to her crossed legs, lips pressed into a thin line as she processed the suggestion.

“It would be the safest way to keep moving,” Xiulan said.

A long breath escaped Feng Yu’s lips. “Okay. If you can suggest and do that, then so can I.”

Xiulan ordered the wagon to a halt. The drivers exchanged bewildered glances as she instructed them to unhitch the horses in the middle of the dark road.

“Take them to the Lin Manor stables,” Xiulan said, pointing toward the city. “Make sure they get proper care and rest.”

“But Miss Lin...” One driver stepped forward, eyes darting between her and Feng Yu. “What will you—”

The question died in his throat as Xiulan and Feng Yu positioned themselves where the horses had stood. Shock painted their faces as they opened their mouths to protest, but Xiulan had already gripped the harness. The wagon creaked forward as she and Feng Yu began to pull, leaving the dumbfounded drivers behind.

The wagon rolled steadily through the night as Xiulan and Feng Yu maintained their rhythmic pace. The physical effort blended with their qi circulation, creating an almost meditative state.

Except for her companion’s interruptions.

“Never speak of this to anyone.” Feng Yu muttered for the twentieth time. “A noble cultivator, pulling a wagon like an ox...”

“Your secret stays safe with me.” Xiulan smiled at the continued grumbling.

The thin qi density of Blackmere pressed against her senses. It didn’t really affect her much, considering she was still only at the first stages of cultivation, but she pondered how visitors like Master Qingfeng coped with the spiritual drought.

Pre-dawn light painted the sky in muted grays as they approached a familiar fork in the road. The right path led to the Lin Family Estate, while the left curved toward the city proper. A dark mass caught Xiulan’s attention at the junction.

“Hey, what’s that?” Xiulan squinted at the undefined shape.

“Not sure.” Feng Yu slowed her steps, forcing their pace to decrease.

The unmistakable stench of decay wafted across the road, the putrid smell hitting Xiulan’s nose before the shape became clear.

“That’s not good...” Xiulan’s muscles tensed as she stared into the gloom.

The pre-dawn shadows resolved into a grotesque tableau. Bodies lay stacked in careless heaps, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Her stomach churned at the sight of her fallen soldiers left to rot by the roadside.

“What happened?” The words escaped through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know.” Feng Yu stepped closer, studying the decomposing remains. “They’ve been here for days, at least. Should I do something about them?”

“Hah...” A bitter laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. “We can’t take the time to bury them, not when we don’t know what’s going on. But leaving them could cause disease, and it’s...”

“I can burn them.” Feng Yu’s quiet offer cut through Xiulan’s spiraling thoughts.

Xiulan unhooked the harness from her shoulders and pulled her sleeve across her nose and mouth. Each step toward the bodies amplified the nauseating stench.

She crouched beside the nearest corpse, examining the distinctive patterns etched into the armor plates. The familiar Lin family craftsmanship confirmed her fears. These men had served her family.

She returned to Feng Yu and the wagon, forcing steadiness into her voice. “I think you should burn them. I don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t just leave this here.”

Feng Yu nodded. A sphere of crimson flame materialized above her palm, pulsing with contained power. The orb drifted toward the bodies, expanding as it moved. When it reached the grisly pile, the flames descended. Heat flared and left nothing but bone and molten metal.

Thirty to forty soldiers were dead…

She’d been gone too long; left before things had stabilized. She had not stayed in contact with her mother and brother enough.

Considering how things were…

Were they even still alive? The world was not kind.

Xiulan let out a tense breath.

Feng Yu frowned at her. “Things might still be okay. We should hurry, and then we can find out.”

Xiulan nodded. “Let’s hope Master Qingfeng doesn’t want to sleep in today.”

Disconcerting Wave

In times of crisis, a cultivator must maintain three pillars: composure to weather the storm, wisdom to navigate troubled waters, and the courage to face what lies ahead. Yet even the mightiest tree bends before the tempest—it is not weakness to adapt, but strength to endure.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

As dawn lightened and the sun threatened to peek out over the eastern horizon, smoke trailed from Blackmere City in the distance. Xiulan squinted at the dark plume, her heart sinking.

“Look,” Feng Yu pointed. “Something’s burning.”

Xiulan nodded. “We need to hurry.”

“We can’t leave the wagon behind,” Feng Yu said, glancing at their load. “Let’s push through to the Treasure Pavilion without stopping.”

The gates stood open despite the early hour. People milled about aimlessly, their faces blank. Xiulan’s unease grew as they got closer. What had happened here?

City guards loitered near the gate, their usual vigilance replaced by indifference. They didn’t bother to check anyone or maintain order. She wanted to ask, but that would cost them time. Worse, it would get them noticed.

That turned out to be the case anyway—two cultivators pulling a wagon?

Everyone gawked at them.

Xiulan ignored the stares, hoping no one recognized her under the ash and soot. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and Feng Yu didn’t look much better.

“We missed our chance to shop for outfits because of that idiot Yu Pei,” Xiulan muttered.

Feng Yu grunted in agreement. “We’ll just have to present ourselves to Master Qingfeng like this.”

The source of the smoke became clear as they neared the Lin city manor. Anxiety twisted in Xiulan’s gut. The manor walls were charred, and it looked like the buildings inside had been torched as well. The rest of the city seemed untouched.

“It was targeted arson,” Xiulan said.

“Let’s hope everyone escaped before the fire took hold. It looks like it burned two or three days ago.” Feng Yu pulled harder on her side of the wagon.

Xiulan forced her attention away from the smoldering ruins. The sooner they reached the Treasure Pavilion, the sooner she’d learn what happened.

The pavilion’s main gates stood locked, but two familiar figures guarded the side entrance. Martial Brother Long’s indigo robes rippled as he stepped forward with a raised hand. Martial Brother Mo mirrored his stance.

“Halt!” Long’s voice echoed across the courtyard.

“Martial Brothers.” Xiulan bowed despite her exhaustion. “I apologize for our disheveled state, but we need to see Master Qingfeng urgently. We have cargo to deposit and hope to learn recent news.”

“Who addresses us?” Mo squinted through the morning haze.

“Lin Xiulan, with my martial sister, Feng Yu.”

Recognition flickered across their faces. Long rushed to unlock the gate while Mo ushered them inside.

“I’ll inform Master Qingfeng.” Long sprinted toward the main building.

Mo eyed their torn clothing and soot-stained skin. “You look like you ran through a forest fire.”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “Not far wrong. Cultivator bandits ambushed us multiple times on the road.”

His gaze shifted to the contents of their wagon. “The collection device has seen better days.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Feng Yu stretched her shoulders. “A few qi blasts from an ancient Golden Core dawn serpent couldn’t break it.”

Mo’s jaw dropped. “What?”

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. For once, it was someone else’s turn to be shocked.

Footsteps echoed across the courtyard. Martial Brother Long returned with six servants trailing behind him, two of which carried a stack of fresh clothing. The familiar purple-robed figure of Merchandiser Ming led the procession, her silver hair gleaming in its severe bun.

“Master Qingfeng will see you both,” Ming announced. “However, he suggests you take time to bathe and recuperate first. The servants will show you to—”

“No.” Xiulan stepped forward. “I need to check on Mei Chen immediately. And I must know what’s happening in the city right now.”

The urgency in her own voice surprised her, but the smoking ruins of her family manor still burned; every moment spent on pleasantries meant more time without answers.

“Master Qingfeng insists you cannot see Mei Chen until he discusses her condition with you directly,” Ming said. “Your current state and agitation suggest you need time to recuperate. Otherwise, rash heads might act brashly and regret it later.”

Blood rushed to Xiulan’s face. The exhaustion from pulling the wagon vanished under a surge of panic. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did something happen to Mei Chen?” Her fingers curled into fists. “If you did something to her, I’ll—”

Warm arms wrapped around her from behind. Feng Yu’s gentle embrace pinned Xiulan’s arms to her sides, stopping her advance toward Ming.

“Mei Chen’s condition remains stable for now and won’t change in the next few hours.” Ming adjusted one of her golden hairpins. “The county’s situation is equally unlikely to shift. There is still time. But the master’s assessment of your need for rest proves accurate, given your behavior.”

A tremor ran through Xiulan’s body. The weight of days spent fighting and running crashed over her. The image of the burning manor blurred with the pile of dead soldiers in her mind.

“It’s true.” Feng Yu’s breath tickled Xiulan’s ear. “We should accept their offer.”

Xiulan sagged in Feng Yu’s arms. “Fine.”

They followed the servants toward the guest building.

She scrubbed her skin raw under the warm water, barely noticing the lavender scent. The white silk robe clung to her damp skin as she yanked it on, not bothering to dry properly. Her fingers trembled while tying the sash.

Without Mei Chen’s practiced touch, her hair remained tangled as she wrestled it into a messy ponytail. The thought of her maid’s gentle hands brought a fresh wave of anxiety.

Five steps forward, five steps back—she paced across the polished wooden floor.

Steam curled around the privacy screen as Feng Yu emerged in matching white robes. She leaned against the wall, frowning. “Do you think Master Qingfeng or Ming lied about the situation?”

“No...” Xiulan continued pacing, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet.

“Then stop worrying yourself to death and calm down.” Feng Yu crossed her arms. “This isn’t like you.”

The words “What do you know about how I am?" burned on Xiulan’s tongue, but she bit them back, collapsing onto a cushioned bench. Her arms wrapped around her torso as tremors wracked her body.

Memories crashed through her: The stupid need for caffeine. The truck’s headlights. Darkness. Then awakening as someone else—as Lin Xiulan.

The silk cushions beneath her felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. She doubled over, chest tight. Images flashed rapid-fire: Lin Qian’s sneer, Lin Fei’s slap. Guards advancing with drawn swords. Zhang Wei’s bruised face. The scarecrow hanging in her residence hall. Mei Chen’s tortured body in that dark cell.

I killed them. The thought echoed. I killed my family.

Blood splattered across marble floors. Spear spinning between her fingers as she struck them down. Their screams. Lord Lin’s final gasp as she drove her weapon through his open mouth. Suyin’s terror as she was impaled.

Xiulan choked on the visuals as they rushed by. She’d become a monster. The pressure built behind her eyes. Her lungs refused to expand. The room spun as black spots danced in her vision.

“Breathe.” Feng Yu’s voice sounded distant, underwater.

But she couldn’t breathe. The walls pressed closer. Wet silk robes constricted like a serpent. Every heartbeat thundered in her ears.

What have I become? The question looped endlessly. What am I doing here?

She wasn’t Lin Xiulan. She was Li Mei—a retail worker who played too many video games. Who died on a neon-lit street. Who woke up in someone else’s life and destroyed it completely.

That’s not true. Some things are better.

The thought was weak against the raging torrent of trauma.

The cushions slipped away as she curled into herself on the floor, her forehead pressed against the cool wood as tremors wracked her body.

All the careful plans, the calculated moves, the desperate fights for survival—they crashed down at once, crushing her beneath their weight.

Warm arms wrapped around her from behind as Feng Yu pulled her close. The dam broke. Tears streamed down Xiulan’s face, soaking into her martial sister’s silk robes. Every suppressed emotion—fear, guilt, grief—poured out in wracking sobs until darkness claimed her.

Sunlight pierced through silk curtains when Xiulan opened her eyes. A soft bed cradled her aching body, but her head throbbed. She pushed herself up, squinting at the light.

“Feeling any better?”

Xiulan startled at Feng Yu’s voice from a shadowed corner.

“A little.” Xiulan rubbed her temples. “Did you get any rest? Learn anything?”

“Not much.” Feng Yu shifted in her seat. “Though Master Qingfeng sent word—you can see him whenever you’re ready.”

Xiulan ran fingers through her tangled hair. “Help me look presentable?”

“Hah. Okay.” Feng Yu stood. “The servants offered earlier, you know. You’re just like a princess.”

“Sorry.” Xiulan dropped her gaze.

“Don’t be.”

Feng Yu’s gentle hands smoothed Xiulan’s disheveled hair while she changed into fresh robes. The silk whispered against her skin, unmarred by wrinkles or stains.

“There.” Feng Yu stepped back. “Now we both look presentable.”

“Since becoming a cultivator, I forgot that a woman’s armor is her presentation.” Xiulan adjusted her sleeves.

“Personally, I prefer kicking ass.” Feng Yu shrugged. “Looking nice is just a bonus. Who doesn’t enjoy being clean?”

Xiulan nodded. Heat crept into her cheeks at the memory of her earlier breakdown, but Feng Yu tied on her red sash and secured her sword without comment. Xiulan checked her concealed daggers, ensuring each sat properly against her waist.

Together they left the guest house, stepping into the morning air.

A servant in blue robes bowed at the guest house entrance. “Master Qingfeng awaits. Please follow me.”

Xiulan recognized the familiar path through the Treasure Pavilion’s second floor. Polished wooden floors gleamed beneath her feet as they approached the tea room.

Master Qingfeng sat cross-legged at the low table, steam already rising from his teacup. He gestured to the cushions across from him.

Xiulan settled onto one, smoothing her robes. “Master Qingfeng, I bring a message from Master Yan. He said, ‘Please inform Master Qingfeng that Yan Qingshi remembers him. Some of us would welcome his return to active circles.’”

“Thank you for your precision.” Master Qingfeng chuckled lightly as he poured fresh tea into two cups. “Pay no mind to that senile master’s words.”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. “Master Qingfeng, forgive my impatience, but I must know about Mei Chen and what has been happening in Blackmere. What news?”

Master Qingfeng lifted the steaming cup to his lips, savoring each sip with infuriating slowness. Xiulan gripped her knees under the table.

“I’ve discovered information about Mei Chen’s condition.” Master Qingfeng set his cup down with practiced grace. “Though rare, a solution might exist for her deteriorating state.”

Xiulan’s fingers dug deeper into her knees. “That sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

“Indeed. Mei Chen’s condition worsens faster than anticipated.”

The words sparked inside Xiulan. She shot to her feet, sending her teacup spinning across the polished table. “Then why waste time here drinking tea?”

Silence filled the room as tea dripped onto the floor. Master Qingfeng remained motionless, studying her with unblinking eyes.

“Please forgive my companion.” Feng Yu dabbed at the spilled tea with her sleeve. She tugged at Xiulan’s robe. “We’ve endured much since leaving. The strain weighs heavily.”

A metallic taste filled Xiulan’s mouth as she bit her cheek. She dropped back onto the cushion, arms crossed.

“Youth experiences time differently.” Master Qingfeng traced the rim of his cup. “Each moment feels like an eternity, each setback like the end of everything.”

Master Qingfeng poured another cup of tea and slid it toward Xiulan. “Your next attempt to help Mei Chen will be your last. She’ll either transform into a wrathful spirit or wake up.”

“Wrathful spirit?” Feng Yu’s brows furrowed. “We’ve been on a mission to help someone already dead?”

The accusation stung. Xiulan straightened her spine. “She still breathes. Her qi still flows.”

Master Qingfeng set his cup down with a soft click. “The chances remain low, but ancient texts suggest her mind might endure. A treatise from beyond the Scorched Lands of Solterra speaks of similar cases—remnants of a long-lost empire to the east.”

Xiulan remained still. “That’s fascinating, but what do I need to do?”

“You must equalize your qi with hers.” Master Qingfeng’s expression hardened. “Without succumbing to the yin energy. If you fail, you’ll both become wrathful spirits.”

“What!” Feng Yu blurted. “That’s entirely too reckless—impossible! You can’t revive the dead!”

“No.” Master Qingfeng smiled thinly. “But you can wake the undead. Mei Chen’s spirit is tied to her corpse. She cultivates still. Whatever the result, it will depend on Miss Lin.”

Xiulan gripped her teacup. “What about the burning manor in the city? We found a platoon of soldiers slaughtered on the road outside the city, rotting.”

“Two black-robed cultivators arrived three days ago.” Master Qingfeng frowned, fingers tapping on the table. “They burned the manor, then executed the city magistrate.”

“The officials?”

“In complete disarray.” Master Qingfeng’s fingers stilled. “The pavilion’s eyes and ears suggest the Chao family orchestrated this. Their soldiers march toward the county as we speak. At least ten thousand strong.”

Cold sweat beaded on Xiulan’s forehead. She pressed her palm against her temple as the room spun. Mother. Zhang Wei. The manor. “They must have killed the rest of my family... The manor had no defense against cultivators—”

“No.” Master Qingfeng raised his hand. “Word arrived yesterday. The manor repelled an attack. Lady Zhao Lian sent word herself.”

“Repelled?” Xiulan blinked rapidly. “How? Did Cousin Min bring reinforcements? A cultivator?” She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “Why aren’t they restoring order to the city?”

Master Qingfeng shook his head. “The details remain unclear. The cultivators stumbled back into the city, looking battered before departing. More will come—the Chao family seems determined to eliminate the Lin family entirely. They’ve abandoned subtlety, using their daughter’s murder as justification. I’ve no word on how they’ve delayed the provincial prefect from intervening.”

Feng Yu straightened. “We need to reach Lin Manor and discover the truth.”

“It would be vital, yes.” Master Qingfeng nodded. “But Mei Chen’s condition takes priority.”

Xiulan pushed back from the table. “I’ll go now—”

Master Qingfeng raised his hand, cutting her off. “A day of preparation remains essential. And you’ve yet to fulfill your end of our bargain. Helping with this, to give it even a hope of working, will cost the Treasure Pavilion considerable resources.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Given the circumstances, I’ll accommodate you before receiving payment, but understand the risk.” He stared at Xiulan intently. “This procedure could kill you.”

“The pill won’t be a problem.” Xiulan met his gaze. “While you prepare, I can craft it.”

Master Qingfeng’s eyebrow arched upward.

“I acquired thunder root in Fershere in addition to the scales from Dawn Valley.” Xiulan allowed a small smile to play across her lips.

“I see.” Master Qingfeng folded his hands on the table. “You’ll need equipment and items to process the pill, since your manor in the city burned.”

A sharp pang shot through Xiulan’s chest. All those alchemy supplies. Everything I bought... ruined. She pushed aside the sting of loss—the Golden Meridian Opening Pill required minimal tools, anyway.

“I’ll be fine.” Xiulan straightened her shoulders. “I prefer privacy. No one should steal my secrets.”

Feng Yu shot her an incredulous look that screamed did you really just say that out loud?

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard, eyes glinting. “And what if I required those secrets as payment?”

“Haaah...” Xiulan drummed her fingers on the table, mimicking the master’s hand earlier. “I might consider it if you personally intervened to stop the Chao family and became my family’s patron and protector.”

“I would consider such an arrangement.” Master Qingfeng’s fingers stilled in his beard. “But the Treasure Pavilion elders have placed limitations on me. Interfering with mortal matters at my cultivation level would prove quite self-damaging.”

“The young bloods must handle their own affairs before they leave mortality behind...” Feng Yu’s words carried a weight of ancient wisdom.

“That is the concept, yes.” Master Qingfeng nodded. “The kingdom’s guardian spirit enforces this law. We’re fortunate such restrictions exist.”

Xiulan bowed from her seated position. “I will prepare the item for you at once.”

“Young lady.” Master Qingfeng’s tone sharpened. “Your loss of composure today remains understandable. But you do no favors for your efforts, your family, or those who rely on you by remaining unsettled. Calm is required for nobles and cultivators alike, unless they wish to become unbalanced.”

He tapped the table. “Not everyone proves as understanding as I.”

Xiulan bent forward into a deep bow. “I apologize for my earlier behavior.”

Master Qingfeng lifted his cup. “The pill will cover the pavilion’s assistance with Mei Chen. We’ll extend protection to you and any family members within these walls.”

He set the cup down with a soft click. “Beyond them, my hands remain tied.”

“Having a safe haven in a storm will always prove valuable.” Feng Yu smoothed her sleeves.

Xiulan shot a sidelong glance at her companion and winced. Really? Taking his side? Traitor.

“Speaking of debts.” Master Qingfeng’s fingers traced the rim of his cup. “You still owe the Treasure Pavilion a favor.”

“How could I ever forget such a burden?” Xiulan kept her tone light despite the weight in her chest.

A low chuckle rumbled from Master Qingfeng. “If some burdens prove hard to carry, others might become a blessing. When one floats off toward the sun, what more could they wish for than something to bring them back to safety?”

“We’re hardly on a hot-air balloon ride—” Xiulan snapped before catching herself. She pressed her lips together, forcing back the rest of her retort.

Master Qingfeng dismissed them with a casual wave. Xiulan stepped into the hall beside Feng Yu, her boots clicking against the floor.

“Here I thought I enjoyed danger.” Feng Yu nudged Xiulan’s shoulder. “But you—handling snakes and poking bears seems to be your specialty.”

“Haha.” Xiulan’s laugh echoed off the wooden walls.

Feng Yu tilted her head. “What’s a hot-air balloon?”

A wince crossed Xiulan’s face. “Just an idea. A way mortals might fly someday.”

“Huh.” Feng Yu studied her. “You always have such special ideas?”

“Maybe.” Xiulan adjusted her sleeve.

“So...” Feng Yu lowered her voice. “How do we make this special pill?”

Xiulan glanced around the empty hallway. “The Treasure Pavilion uses recording devices. We need somewhere private. Perhaps the manor?”

“You’ll need protection.” Feng Yu touched her sword hilt. “Sure you want to risk me learning and memorizing the method?”

“Better you than Master Qingfeng.”

“My naïve little martial sister.” Feng Yu patted Xiulan’s shoulder. “Your trust makes you adorable.”

Standard Pill and Trap

Victory often comes not from overwhelming power, but from understanding how elements interact. Fire melts metal, metal cuts wood, wood splits earth, earth dams water, and water extinguishes fire. Master these principles, and even a weaker cultivator may triumph over a stronger foe.
—Sage Master Liu Yue, Walker of the Midnight Path

Xiulan packed the ingredients with methodical precision. The dawn serpent scales were carefully contained in cloth bags. The blood lotus petals remained in the qi-containing jars provided by Master Qingfeng. She arranged fifty thunder roots in their own wrappings, their energy crackling faintly against her qi-enhanced senses.

Two travel packs absorbed the precious cargo, reinforced with extra padding to prevent any unfortunate bumps. She added a matched pair of razor-sharp preparation knives and a compact spiritual cauldron—simple but adequate for the task ahead.

Merchandiser Ming approached with silent steps across the storage room floor, extending a small metal tube toward Xiulan. The silver surface caught the light from nearby spirit stones.

Xiulan frowned. “What’s this?”

“If trouble finds you, launch it skyward.” Ming tapped the tube. “Long, Mo, and I will come extract you back to the pavilion.”

“Master Qingfeng said that—”

Ming cut her off with a sharp headshake. “The master can’t leave or intervene without risking tribulation. But we’re different—I’m only at Qi Refining, and Mo and Long are merely Qi Gathering cultivators. We won’t draw the same scrutiny.” She pressed the tube firmly into Xiulan’s palm. “He won’t stand idle while you and Fairy Feng risk death or capture.”

“Hah...” Xiulan stared at the signal tube. “I guess he knows what I’m doing even without being told.”

Ming smiled warmly. “The master’s age hasn’t dulled his perception. If anything, his insight grows sharper.”

Footsteps echoed against stone as Feng Yu strode into the storage room. “The manor’s perimeter is clear,” she said. “Two complete circuits and not a soul in sight.”

Xiulan’s stomach twisted. “Did you find any bodies?”

“A few scattered remains, but far fewer than expected. Most of the servants and soldiers must have fled in time.”

“I hope they made it.” Xiulan traced her fingers along the signal tube’s cool surface.

“Reports never mentioned mass casualties,” Ming said. “The survivors likely scattered to safety when the attack began.”

Xiulan secured the first pack across her shoulders, adjusting the straps until the weight settled evenly. Feng Yu hoisted the second pack.

The spiritual cauldron’s metallic surface gleamed as Xiulan lifted it. “Let’s go.”

She kept her steps measured as they blended into the sparse foot traffic outside the Treasure Pavilion. The weight of the ingredients pressed against her back, urging her to hurry.

“Are you certain about this?” Feng Yu matched her pace. “An attack could ruin the entire pill-making process.”

“I know.” Xiulan adjusted her pack strap. “Master Qingfeng will help if we fail. We’d need to gather ingredients again, but he’ll wait.”

She scanned the nearly empty streets. “If we avoid trouble, we complete the pill. If not, we might catch one of these Chao family cultivators. I want answers.”

Feng Yu glanced at her. “Is that why Ming gave you this?”

“Yes. If things turn ugly, they’ll extract us.”

“I’ll do my best then.”

“With luck, we’ll succeed at both.” Xiulan gestured with the spiritual cauldron. “But if the process breaks, we focus on capture.”

Feng Yu nodded.

The city streets were hushed. Xiulan studied each alley and rooftop but spotted no observers. Residents hurried past with downcast eyes, their usual energy replaced by tense silence.

The manor’s main gate hung askew on broken hinges, its surface blackened and peeled from intense heat. She stepped through the ruined entrance, her boots crunching on scattered debris.

Charred timbers and collapsed stone walls created a maze of destruction across what had once been pristine grounds. The acrid stench of burnt wood mixed with darker undertones that made her stomach clench.

Half-buried shapes beneath the rubble drew her gaze before she forced herself to look away. The courtyard—where just a week ago she’d shared laughter and food with Feng Yu and Ren Chun—lay buried under a thick blanket of gray ash.

“We’ll set up in the back.” Xiulan swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat.

“That won’t deter them.” Feng Yu scanned the area. “They’ll just climb over if they want in.”

“True. But it should keep civilians and curious onlookers from wandering through.”

“I’ll find a good vantage point to watch without seeing the pill-making process.” Feng Yu adjusted her saber.

“Just focus on capturing anyone who shows up.”

“They might not come at all if they took a good beating at your family’s manor.” Feng Yu passed the second pack to Xiulan. “Here.”

“Then we make the pill and return to the pavilion.” Xiulan accepted the pack, setting it beside hers on the ground.

Xiulan swept debris from a flat section of courtyard stone, creating a clean workspace beneath a partially intact wall. The spiritual cauldron settled onto its bronze legs with a solid thunk. She arranged her tools in precise rows: mortar, pestle, knives, and a set of hourglasses.

Perfect spot. Clear view of approaching threats while staying hidden from the street.

A quick scan of the perimeter showed Feng Yu perched on a section of intact roof, saber ready. Xiulan unpacked the ingredients with practiced efficiency, memory taking over from countless hours spent crafting pills in her previous life.

The familiar motions helped steady her nerves as she worked. Each step flowed into the next: processing scales, preparing roots, extracting essence from petals. The spirit stone pulsed with energy as she placed it.

Every few minutes she paused to survey the ruins, tracking shadows and listening for footsteps. The empty manor remained silent except for the crackle of flames beneath her cauldron. Even the city sounds seemed muted, as if the place were holding its breath.

The mixture thickened right on schedule. Xiulan reduced the heat and began the final stirring phase. The liquid shimmered as she poured it into the waiting mold.

“Now we wait.” She wiped her brow and settled back to watch the pills solidify.

One hour stood between success and failure.

Xiulan studied the pill mold. A heavy impact would ruin everything now.

She knelt and plunged her fingers into the packed earth, channeling qi to loosen the soil. A neat plug of dirt came free, and the pill mold nestled perfectly in the resulting hollow.

She gently tamped the earth back into place and drove her preparation knife deep beside it. The blade’s handle would mark the spot clearly against the ash-covered ground.

One by one, she packed away her tools. The spiritual cauldron required extra care—residual heat from the flames still radiated from its bronze surface. It would take hours to cool, so the safe bet would be to have Feng Yu carry it back.

“Xiulan!” her companion’s urgent shout cut through the air.

Xiulan twisted, following Feng Yu’s pointing finger. A figure in black scaled down the manor’s wall. Their outfit matched precisely what she imagined the Whispering Shadows Sect gear looked like: fitted dark cloth resembling a ninja’s garb.

A metallic glint flashed. Xiulan stepped sideways as a dart whistled past her ear. She snatched up her spear, scanning the attacker’s movements. Their qi pulsed fiercely, much higher than the common bandits they had faced on the road, making their true strength difficult to gauge.

She deflected another dart with her spear’s shaft. Feng Yu launched forward off the charred roof, saber drawn.

A second attacker emerged from the shadows. Their chain-sickle whirled through the air toward Feng Yu. She twisted away, but the weapon’s chain wrapped around her saber. She angled the blade, letting the chain slip free with a metallic shriek.

A dart streaked toward Feng Yu’s exposed side. Xiulan lunged forward, spear extended. The tip knocked the projectile from its path with surgical precision.

“Nice one!” Feng Yu called out.

“Remember—we need one alive!” Xiulan shifted her stance, keeping both attackers in view.

She tracked the hidden weapon expert’s movements as Feng Yu engaged the chain-sickle wielder. The black-clad cultivator darted through the rubble, launching a barrage of darts that forced her to constantly adjust her spear’s position.

A flash of metal caught her eye as he rushed toward her. She twisted sideways, deflecting three more darts with her spear shaft. The assassin slipped under her guard, closing the distance faster than she anticipated.

Steel glinted. Pain blazed across her side as she leaped backward. He pursued, pressing the advantage.

Xiulan planted her foot on a chunk of rubble, channeling qi through her meridians. “Water Stepping Foot!”

The ground exploded in a geyser of dirt and stone, catching the assassin full in the face. He staggered back, sputtering. Xiulan thrust her spear into the ground and gathered qi in her palms.

“Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters!”

The blast wave sent him spinning through the air, but he twisted to land in a graceful roll and immediately launched another volley of darts. The projectiles ricocheted off each other, causing them to flash toward her from multiple angles. She struggled to jump into a twist to avoid them.

Sharp pain bloomed in her arm as several darts grazed her, blood trickling down to her wrist. The earlier slash wound at her side continued bleeding steadily, the flow refusing to slow. Each cut burned with increasing intensity.

Poison. The bastard coated everything with some kind of anticoagulant.

Her opponent switched to maintaining his distance, well outside her technique range. More darts filled the air, forcing her to keep moving. Xiulan’s qi surged as she deflected another volley with a thunder clap.

She grit her teeth. Her condition was deteriorating; she could feel some of her outer meridians clogging as her physical condition worsened.

She released another offensive qi blast, but he danced away from it, the air only breezing his black outfit.

My qi might be stronger, but what good is that if I can’t fucking hit him?

A burst of orange light drew Xiulan’s attention. Feng Yu’s fire-wreathed sword carved blazing arcs through the air, forcing the chain-sickle cultivator backward. Each slash ignited wooden debris and scattered ash. The assassin kept trying to retreat, but Feng Yu pursued relentlessly.

Sharp pain exploded across Xiulan’s cheek as a dart struck home. Blood trickled down her face, burning like acid where the poison touched. She spun back toward her own opponent.

Focus, dammit! Distraction will get you killed.

Her spear felt clumsy against such a nimble opponent. She needed something faster, more precise. The twin daggers were her only alternative—though her skills with them remained rudimentary at best. But combined with the new lightning technique she’d used in Dawn Valley...

If I can get airborne while he stays grounded, the electricity will take the path of least resistance. Through him, not me.

Xiulan switched her grip on the spear, advancing with quick steps. She spun the weapon to create a shield of motion that deflected the next barrage of darts. The assassin retreated, but she pressed forward, forcing him to give ground.

Just need to get close enough...

Her spear blurred faster as she drove toward the shadowy cultivator. Blood dripped steadily from her wounds, but she ignored the burning sensation spreading through her meridians.

She forced him between fallen beams and crumbling walls. He darted sideways toward an exit, but her spear whistled through the air, slamming into the stone wall inches from his face. Stone chips exploded outward as he stumbled back and reversed course.

She drew her twin daggers in a smooth motion. Qi surged through her meridians as she channeled yin energy into the left blade and yang into the right, the metal growing hot and cold against her palms.

One second is all I need.

Xiulan gathered qi at the precise meridian points she needed to execute Heavenly Two Step. The world blurred as she flashed to the assassin’s right, then instantly reappeared on his left. His momentum carried him straight toward her.

Steel rang against steel as he produced twin daggers, barely blocking her strike. The blades locked together with a metallic screech.

Xiulan pushed qi through her meridians, lifting her feet from the ground as the yin and yang energies discharged through their joined weapons. Blue-white electricity arced between the blades with a thunderous crack. Ozone filled the air as the assassin flew backward, slamming into the wall and crumpling to the ground.

The qi drain made her stumble. She hit the floor hard but scrambled up, charging after him.

He started to rise. Her foot connected between his legs with brutal force.

He screamed and slashed wildly with blackened, smoking hands. She kicked him again and again, desperate to end the fight. He rolled away after a fifth strike, but she pounced, landing on his back.

Her fist drove into his spine. A sickening crack echoed through the ruins. His legs went limp, but his arms still flailed. She grabbed his wrists, yanking them behind his neck and shoving down hard until his struggles became ineffective.

With the assassin pinned beneath her, Xiulan looked up to check on the other fight.

The chain-sickle cultivator and Feng Yu spun through the air, their weapons locked together. Their legs kicked frantically as they twisted and turned, neither able to break free. Neither of them was willing to let go of the other’s weapons and the chain had wrapped around their wrists in a macabre binding.

Brilliant orange light blazed across Feng Yu’s skin in a sheen before her qi surged outward and flames erupted from her body.

The chain-sickle cultivator struggled to escape, but their weapons remained fused together. His qi pressed outward in a last ditch defense—Xiulan sensed the distinct resonance of metal element energy attempting to counter the flames.

A fatal mistake.

Even if he had superior meridians and qi force, that meant nothing against the overwhelming heat.

Fire controlled metal.

“Fire Cremation Palm!” Feng Yu’s shout rang across the courtyard.

Like an acetylene torch cutting through steel, the flames intensified to a searing white-blue. Xiulan turned away as the brilliant light became unbearable, a consuming roar whooshing through the air for a second before going silent.

Closing her eyes made the mental visualization of her meridian network painful. Black spots pulsed around the periphery. Blood soaked her robes and dripped onto the pinned cultivator. Her limbs grew heavy as the poison worked deeper into her system. She forced her qi to circulate faster, containing the spreading corruption but unable to eliminate it.

The blinding light faded, and she opened her eyes. Feng Yu dropped what remained of the chain sickle—now just a misshapen lump of cooling metal flowing off her saber. The other cultivator’s bones clattered to the ground, the rest of him dispersing as ash on the wind.

Well, it was a good thing she captured her opponent, because that one wasn’t going to be answering anything.

“Feng Yu!” Xiulan shouted.

Feng Yu strode over and pulled a shimmering golden rope from a hidden pocket. She bound the assassin’s hands and feet with practiced efficiency, allowing Xiulan to slump against a broken wall. Blood dripped steadily from her wounds onto the stone floor.

She couldn’t just let the exhaustion make her give up. She tore strips from her already ruined robe, trying to wrap the deepest cut on her side; the makeshift bandages soaked through almost instantly. Her fingers trembled as she pressed harder against the wound.

“You need help.” Feng Yu knelt beside her.

“No fucking shit I need help.” Xiulan gritted her teeth against another wave of burning pain.

Feng Yu grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, pushing her to sit. Warm fingers pressed against specific points along Xiulan’s spine—sharp heat lanced through her meridians like molten metal.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Xiulan squawked and tried to pull away.

“There’s spiritual poison preventing your wounds from healing.” Feng Yu’s fingers continued their methodical path.

More burning sensations pierced through Xiulan’s meridians. Each cut required multiple treatments, fire racing through her body with every touch. “Fuck! Shit! Mother-loving son of a—” She bit down on another curse as a particularly intense heat seared through her.

The burning gradually subsided, and the constant drip of blood slowed to a trickle. Xiulan sagged forward, exhaustion hitting harder than after their journey back from the road.

“You’ll need hours to recover from the internal damage,” Feng Yu said. “Lucky your main meridians weren’t touched. With that much poison, you’d have passed out otherwise.”

Xiulan panted and nodded.

“Where did you learn to curse like that?” Feng Yu asked. “I can’t imagine it was your family’s soldiers; they would end up throttled…”

Xiulan winced and let out a pained laugh. “Just… around.” She turned toward their captive, who lay bound nearby. “Got any experience with questioning?”

The assassin flopped like a fish, lower body dragging uselessly as he attempted to escape.

A dangerous smile spread across Feng Yu’s face. “I have some ideas.”

Xiulan glanced over to where she had made the pill.

The knife she had used for chopping the thunder root up was still standing.

So far so good…

The Ebb Before...

The balance between yin and yang is not merely philosophical—it is the fundamental rhythm of existence. When this balance falters, chaos ensues. The skilled healer must understand that restoration requires not just knowledge, but the courage to reach into the depths of darkness and guide the light back.
—Sage Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Xiulan knelt beside the bound assassin.

“Do you work for the Chao family?”

“No.” The cultivator spat blood onto the ground.

Feng Yu’s boot connected with his ribs. He wheezed but maintained his defiant glare.

Xiulan winced internally, but she had already steeled herself to adding torture to her list of crimes.

She rifled through the man’s robes, finding an embroidered symbol hidden in the inner lining. Madam Zhang’s beloved family crest stared back at her, written in black thread on black fabric.

“Interesting choice of tailor,” she said. “Their shop does quality work.”

The assassin’s eyes widened before narrowing to slits.

“How many more cultivators are with you?” Xiulan pressed.

“I work alone,” the lie fell from his lips.

Feng Yu knelt down and struck several points along his back. Lancing his meridians? The assassin screamed, body convulsing against his bonds.

“Try again.” Xiulan kept her voice level.

“I’m just—” Another precise strike cut him off. “Fine! I’m a scout. More are coming. You’ll all die like dogs!” He panted heavily.

“When? What’s the attack plan?”

“An army approaches.” The assassin choked through bloodied teeth. He tried to laugh but only ended up wheezing.

“Specifics. Now.” Xiulan leaned closer.

Silence answered. Feng Yu stepped back, shaking her head slightly.

“What cultivation levels should we expect?” The question hung in the air as the assassin choked and gasped.

“Don’t bother.” Feng Yu crossed her arms. “Your strike shattered his dantian along with his spine earlier. He won’t last much longer.”

Xiulan sat back on her heels. They’d learned nothing new, but at had at least confirmed a few things.

She drew her dagger and granted him a swift end.

Monster. Her teeth clenched. I’m not. He was an enemy.

“Did the pill survive all that?” Feng Yu asked.

“We still need thirty minutes.” Xiulan wiped her blade clean.

Xiulan watched Feng Yu brush soot from her singed robes. Her sword remained pristine, but everything else showed battle damage.

How did her clothes survive that inferno at all? There must be some cultivation technique for fire users to avoid burning through their wardrobe.

A glance at Feng Yu revealed not a single scratch despite the fiercer battle she’d fought. In contrast, Xiulan’s cuts stung and itched beneath her robes.

“I should meditate.” Xiulan settled into a cross-legged position, hoping meditation would heal her wounds and stave off the nervousness of waiting.

“I’ll keep watch.” Feng Yu moved to patrol the ruins.

Xiulan closed her eyes and directed her qi flow. Instead of the usual highways between main meridians, she attempted to wind the energy through the outer channels where the poison damage had accumulated. The qi fought against her the more complex the path she tried to force. A grunt escaped her lips as she struggled to maintain control.

Feng Yu made it look effortless—those precise turns her qi thread made, dancing exactly where she wanted it.

The realization struck hard.

Her shortcut to perfect meridians had left a crucial gap in her skills. The straightforward patterns she relied on worked fine for simple techniques involving twenty or thirty points. The Heavenly Two Step combined with her “Stun Gun” had pushed those limits.

Yet another thing she needed to practice…

The thought brought frustration. Since becoming a cultivator, time for practice, learning, and training had been in short supply. Crisis after crisis had stolen any chance.

There had never been time to breathe. Nor did it look like she would get any before things came to a head.

Was this karma finally catching up to her?

“It’s time.” Feng Yu’s touch broke through her thoughts.

Xiulan opened her eyes and nodded. Great, even the half hour of meditation had just turned into an unhelpful self-therapy session.

At least she had time-skipped the wait.

Xiulan gripped the earthen plug with steady fingers, the clay warm against her skin as she eased it free from the hole. She opened the mold with practiced precision.

Golden light spilled out from her fingers.

“You did it!” Feng Yu stepped closer, amber eyes reflecting the glow.

“Of course.” Xiulan held the large pill up, examining its perfectly smooth surface. “The real question was whether our little skirmish had ruined everything.”

Feng Yu laughed—a clear, bright sound that echoed off the manor’s walls.

The completed pill radiated power, but Xiulan’s excitement faded as she studied it.

The golden sphere represented more than just payment for the Treasure Pavilion’s aid. In the large scheme of things, she was nothing special. All her power had basically sprouted from this cheat item.

Now that she had made another, if someone took it, they would steal that uniqueness. Families that wanted the best for their scions—or old masters who wanted to give their students a head start—would stop at nothing for such an item.

A chill ran down her spine. Master Qingfeng’s eagerness took on a darker meaning. If word spread about her exclusive Golden Meridian Opening Pill-crafting abilities, she’d become a target. Without significant backing or power, she’d end up trapped—forced to produce pills for whoever held the most leverage.

It wasn’t like she had ignored that. The thought had sat in the back of her mind the entire time. But now that she had the pill in hand, that danger suddenly felt much more relevant. It was just that she didn’t really have much of a choice, did she?

Her cards weren’t great, and she couldn’t abandon Mei Chen. Not after so much had happened…

The golden light dimmed slightly as she slipped it into a silk pouch. Even Master Qingfeng, for all his polite merchant manners, might decide she was too valuable to let go.

Xiulan stared at the glowing silk. Her earlier breakdown at the Treasure Pavilion replayed in her mind: screaming at Master Qingfeng, demanding answers about Mei Chen. Heat crept up her neck. Such a display of weakness could prove fatal in this world of cultivation and intrigue.

Feng Yu smiled at her from across the room. The expression seemed genuine, but doubt suddenly gnawed at Xiulan’s thoughts. In the game—no, in this world—alliances shifted like desert sands. Today’s friend became tomorrow’s betrayer. The game’s open PvP nature and lore had taught her that lesson repeatedly.

I can’t trust anyone completely. The thought was active acid in her heart.

Shame burned in her chest. She’d taken shortcuts—exploited her “friends” to jumpstart her cultivation. A fraudulent feeling clung like poison. Monster.

Was it even enough?

Xiulan tucked the glowing silk container into a hidden pocket sewn beneath her outer robe. “Let’s hurry back. We’ve accomplished everything here.”

“Wait.” Feng Yu stepped forward. “I found something while you meditated.” She extended a wooden box coated in gray ash.

Recognition struck Xiulan like a physical blow—Jin Wei’s pill box. The healing pills he’d given her had sat forgotten through everything that happened. She lifted the lid with trembling fingers, revealing the small medicinal pills nestled inside.

The ones that had failed to save Mei Chen.

Images of Mei Chen’s still form flashed through her mind. The bitter taste of the medicine’s failure rose in her throat. Xiulan drew a sharp breath and forced the memories down, locking them away.

I can save her now. That’s what matters.

Xiulan snapped the box shut and stowed it in her pack. The pills might prove useful later—she’d blocked them from her mind entirely before, but that was just another weakness. Whether from trauma or foolishness, she couldn’t say.

It was a weakness to discard.

“Let’s go.” Xiulan stood up and strode toward the burnt manor’s destroyed gate, leading the way back to the Treasure Pavilion.

Instead of taking a quiet route back, Xiulan led them up to the rooftops.

The Heavenly Two Step technique made quick work of the distance, transforming what should have been a short walk into a mad rush.

If she couldn’t find time for training, what if she just turned everything into training? Using the technique was good practice.

Plus, if there were more assassins, they would have a hard time intercepting.

Martial Brothers Mo and Long spotted their approach, swinging open the postern gate before they touched down.

Inside the courtyard, Merchandiser Ming stood ready. The silver-haired woman had traded her merchant’s dignity for a more militant stance, twin knives gleaming at her waist. Behind her, a dozen Treasure Pavilion employees gripped an array of weapons.

Xiulan’s stomach twisted. The display of force spoke volumes about their expectations—whether that was because they were expecting to rush and rescue Feng Yu and her or in preparation for the incoming Chao family army, it wasn’t clear.

“Any success?” Ming’s fingers drummed against one knife hilt.

“We managed.” Xiulan pulled out her silk pouch to show off the golden light before returning it to her pocket. “Had some uninvited guests, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Excellent. Master Qingfeng awaits your arrival. Shall I escort you now?”

Xiulan glanced at Feng Yu’s battle-damaged attire. Soot and torn fabric wouldn’t help their concentration during the delicate procedure ahead. “A brief stop to clean up first.”

“The guest quarters and robes remain complimentary.” Ming smiled politely. “Though you might consider investing in your own wardrobe soon.”

“Once things settle down.” Xiulan brushed ash from her sleeve.

“I have several spiritually enhanced sets that would suit your needs perfectly.”

“Oh?” Feng Yu’s laugh echoed across the courtyard. “And how many spirit stones would those cost?”

“Much less than Miss Lin’s substantial account balance.” Ming’s eyes sparkled.

Xiulan released a weak laugh. The value of her promissory note must have filtered through the pavilion already. “Later, we’ll deal.”

Merchandiser Ming waved them on and Xiulan turned toward the guest quarters, Feng Yu falling into step beside her.

It only took half an hour for them to wash.

Xiulan studied her reflection in the polished bronze mirror, fresh robes draped perfectly across her shoulders. The borrowed clothing carried a subtle fragrance of mountain herbs—likely treated with preservation techniques.

She withdrew one of Jin Wei’s healing pills from the wooden box. The small sphere glowed with a faint blue tinge. She swallowed it without difficulty.

Unlike her previous experience with it, her qi sensitivity revealed the pill’s essence spreading through her meridians. She guided the healing energy with precise control, accelerating the natural process. Her cuts and bruises faded within minutes, leaving unmarred skin behind.

Maintaining the myth of spotless and unblemished fairies was fated to be an ongoing effort.

Xiulan glanced at the dressing table. An empty box with velvet lining waited for her. She removed the Golden Meridian Opening Pill from her silk pouch and placed it inside before snapping the box shut.

She traced the embroidered edges of the box before securing it within her robes. It settled with a purposeful weight as she adjusted her daggers into her sash.

Feng Yu finished adjusting her own borrowed attire. The pristine sword hanging at her side completed the image of an untouchable immortal. No trace remained of their earlier battle.

“Ready?” Feng Yu asked.

Xiulan nodded. It was time to face Master Qingfeng—and decide Mei Chen’s fate.

Xiulan slid the velvet box across Master Qingfeng’s tea table. The rich fabric caught the lantern light, casting subtle shadows across the carved surface.

Master Qingfeng opened the box with careful precision. The golden pill radiated a soft glow that reflected in his eyes as he examined it. “Remarkable.”

He returned the pill to its velvet nest and closed the box with a gentle click. “I suspected you spoke truth about your abilities, but seeing a third pill of this quality confirms your story beyond doubt.”

“Mei Chen?” Xiulan leaned forward, forcing herself to remain still despite the urgency burning through her.

Master Qingfeng reached beneath his desk and produced four items: a pair of thick golden bracelets that seemed to pulse with energy and two amber stones that gleamed with an inner fire. All of it radiated with intense yang.

He turned toward Feng Yu. “Would you be willing to assist as well?”

Feng Yu straightened her spine. “I will help for Xiulan.”

Master Qingfeng picked up one of the amber crystals and extended it to Feng Yu. “You and I will need to assist by channeling the yang crystal’s energy into her.”

He lifted the golden bracelets and turned toward Xiulan. “These will fortify your constitution against the yin energy. Without them, you’ll be overwhelmed—and I’d rather not deal with two wrathful spirits. I do not want to be forced to repair the forging room again.”

“Again?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow.

“Mei Chen woke once. The commotion was... substantial.”

Xiulan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t mentioned this before. What else hadn’t he mentioned?

She drew in a slow breath, forcing down the familiar surge of anxiety that had consumed their last meeting. Panic leads to mistakes. Stay focused. “I admit I would like to proceed immediately if that’s the case.”

“Indeed.” Master Qingfeng nodded. “We’ve faced enough delays. Come.”

Feng Yu and Xiulan followed him down the corridor toward the forging room.

“Master Qingfeng,” Feng Yu spoke up. “With your cultivation level, wouldn’t you be better suited to perform the qi exchange?”

“Mei Chen’s spirit accepts Xiulan’s qi willingly. For others, she resists. My intervention would only cause damage.”

Feng Yu cast a worried glance at Xiulan.

Xiulan kept her eyes locked on the approaching door. The concern was touching, but… No room for doubt now.

A chill crept through the air as they approached the doors. She suppressed a shiver.

Master Qingfeng pushed the golden doors wide. A frigid blast swept across Xiulan’s face, carrying the sharp scent of frost. The room beyond reeked of prior violence—shattered gilding and twisted bronze artifacts littered the floor; crystalline ice coated every surface, negating the yang energy that should have permeated the chamber.

It didn’t look like the repairs had been very thorough. The cost to restore everything would be… significant.

Xiulan’s fingers brushed the empty pocket where the Golden Meridian Opening Pill had rested. At least its value had bought them this chance.

Her gaze found Mei Chen and her breath caught. The peaceful repose she’d expected was replaced by brutal restraint—golden shackles encased both wrists and ankles, binding the young maid to float in the air.

“What...” The word escaped before Xiulan could stop it.

“A necessary precaution.” Master Qingfeng stepped forward. “We must begin immediately after releasing her, before she wakes again.”

Xiulan swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat.

Master Qingfeng flicked his wrist. Three cushions sailed through the doorway from the main pavilion, arranging themselves in a triangle that pointed toward Mei Chen. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them with a pulse of qi.

Master Qingfeng turned to Feng Yu. “You know how to join a formation?”

Feng Yu nodded.

“I’ve never...” Xiulan started.

“Less concerning.” Master Qingfeng cut her off. “You’ll form the center. We channel to you. Focus only on Mei Chen. There is no real guidance for what you must do. Follow what feels right.”

Yang surged through the golden bracelets as Xiulan slipped them onto her wrists. Warmth flooded her meridians, spreading through her entire body like liquid sunlight. The sensation reminded her of a summer afternoon.

A proper explanation would be nice. But time pressed against them like a physical weight.

Xiulan stepped toward Mei Chen’s suspended form. The shackles yielded with surprising ease—a simple press and click released each restraint. Xiulan caught Mei Chen’s descending body and guided her onto the stone slab.

Despite the supernatural cold radiating from her, Mei Chen’s skin remained oddly pliant beneath Xiulan’s touch, like freshly fallen snow that hadn’t yet crystallized.

Rapid breaths escaped the girl’s lips in visible puffs of frigid air. The surrounding temperature dropped further with each exhale.

“We’ll establish the array first.” Master Qingfeng’s words cut through the chill. “Then you should proceed as before, but maintain the connection until yang and yin equalize through both of you.”

Xiulan knelt on the cushion beside Mei Chen and wrapped her fingers around the girl’s left wrist. The vast reservoir of yin qi within nearly stole her breath—what leaked into the forging room was merely a drop compared to a frozen ocean. The sheer volume of energy felt like an entire continent of ice pressed into a human form.

Are we trying to melt Antarctica here? If we’d started sooner... no, focus on now.

“You can do this.” Feng Yu’s steady voice carried from behind. “Don’t worry.”

“Hah...” Xiulan managed a weak laugh. “With your belief in me, maybe it’s true.”

“Let us begin.” Master Qingfeng’s command rang through the chamber.

...the Ice Storm.

The strongest bonds are forged in moments of shared suffering. When we choose to bear another's pain, we create connections that transcend mere friendship or loyalty.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Xiulan closed her eyes, picturing Mei Chen’s qi as a frozen lake beneath her touch. The spiritual energy pulsed and swirled, vast and dangerous in its intensity.

A sudden warmth threaded into her. The yang qi flowed from outside, moving through her dantian in steady waves before cycling back out. The sensation differed from anything she’d experienced in cultivation before.

Would this external energy replenish me if I depleted my reserves?

The strength of the flow surpassed any qi exchange she’d attempted. With this much power at her disposal, perhaps...

Mei Chen, I’ll save you now.

She established the connection. Mei Chen’s frozen qi rushed into her meridians like an arctic river breaking through spring ice. She guided the torrent along her spiritual pathway before directing it back through Mei Chen’s wrist.

The flow stuttered and stalled. Panic seized Xiulan’s chest.

Mei Chen?

Spiritual pressure built rapidly, becoming a dam about to burst. The blocked energy rampaged out of her main meridians and into her outer ones, seeking any possible relief.

Xiulan gripped the stagnant qi flow and pushed it toward Mei Chen’s meridians with desperate force. Was this why Master Qingfeng couldn’t perform the exchange himself? Had they waited too long?

Mei Chen? Mei Chen!

Without warning, the energy pierced through the blockage like a needle through silk. Cold burned through Xiulan’s core as she guided the restored flow toward Mei Chen’s next meridian.

XiulanXiulanXiulanXiulan!

The wail slammed into her mind with frenzied force, scattering her concentration. Raw emotion poured through their connection—terror, confusion, betrayal.

Mei Chen? Xiulan projected the thought.

A tsunami of panic crashed against her mental barriers. Mei Chen’s spiritual presence radiated pure fear, her thoughts fragmenting into desperate pleas.

“I’m here now, Mei Chen. I’m here to help you.” Xiulan pushed reassurance through their connection.

No, you can’t be here! No, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t! It’s terrible—I don’t want you to suffer too!

The mental cry squeezed Xiulan’s heart, but it also solidified her earlier determination—like putting up boards against a window threatened by a storm.

She would do this. There was no question!

Mei Chen!

She focused on threading her qi. The task proved nearly impossible—Mei Chen’s qi had spread into a vast, stagnant lake with nowhere to flow. Every meridian brimmed with excess energy, leaving no channels for movement.

Worse, it didn’t want to move. It wanted to harden into something else. Something frozen.

Xiulan exhaled sharply, releasing the frigid energy before it could overwhelm her own system. Fresh warmth from Qingfeng and Feng Yu’s array flowed in to replace what she expelled, steadying her against the crushing tide of Mei Chen’s uncontrolled qi.

The benefit of the Golden Meridian Opening Pill showed itself again as the paths she had to take were straightforward: from one major meridian to the next, leading to the dantian. She plunged deeper into the network until she located Mei Chen’s dantian.

A perfect sphere of ice greeted her spiritual probe. Xiulan stabbed forward with a concentrated thread of qi, but it deflected off the frozen surface. She tried again and again, each attempt bouncing away from the crystalline barrier.

The surge of yin energy intensified, flooding into Xiulan’s system with crushing force. She exhaled rapidly, expelling the excess cold in quick bursts. The yang array struggled to replenish her reserves, warmth trickling in too slowly to match the overwhelming flow of yin.

Mei Chen... please let me in. Let me help you.

A piercing shriek split the air. Xiulan’s eyes snapped open to find Mei Chen bolt upright on the table. The young maid’s face shone ghost-white, features twisted into a mask of pure rage. She launched forward to attack.

Xiulan caught Mei Chen in her lap, wrapping her arms around the thrashing form. Sharp teeth sank into the side of her neck. Hot blood flowed down her shoulder as Mei Chen latched onto the wound, drinking deeply.

The qi thread wavered in Xiulan’s grasp.

“Xiulan!” Feng Yu shouted from somewhere behind her.

“It’s all right.” Xiulan choked out as she tightened her embrace around Mei Chen. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

She drove the qi thread forward once more. This time, it pierced through, plunging deep into the frozen dantian, cracks spider-webbing through the ice as yang energy swirled into the pure yin core. The frozen sphere finally shattered, transforming into a pulsing vortex of balanced power.

There was no time for relief. She needed to complete the loop. Xiulan guided the qi thread toward the final meridian, muscles trembling from the strain. Mei Chen’s teeth remained locked onto her neck, drawing deep pulls of blood. Each swallow sent waves of yin energy flooding the wound, strangling the qi flow.

Xiulan’s fifth major meridian throbbed, damage spreading through the spiritual pathway. She diverted her qi through smaller nodes, desperate to maintain the connection despite the choking pressure—the massive pool of yin energy built into a tumor with each breath.

Just one more connection.

She latched onto the spiritual cord with iron determination and pressed it home. The thread flared brilliant white, spiritual energy surging through the established path. Qi rushed into Mei Chen in a torrent, following the natural flow they’d reconstructed.

Arctic cold ripped through Xiulan worse than before. She exhaled streams of pure yin energy, but more flooded in to replace it just as fast.

The rhythm matched her cultivation exercises, but the stakes felt infinitely higher. Ice crystals formed around them, suspended in the air.

The crushing pressure threatened to tear her apart. The yang-infused bracelets burned against her wrists, their power barely noticeable within the overwhelming tide of yin.

I’m dying.

The thought crystallized as ice spread through Xiulan’s chest, yin energy consuming everything, drowning out the warmth that had sustained her.

Her heartbeat slowed to deep, thundering pulses that echoed through her frozen meridians. The world blurred into streaks of white and shadow. Shapes lost definition, merging into a frost-covered haze.

Only the steady pattern of breathing anchored her to consciousness.

“Xiulan?”

The voice cut through the fog. She blinked, forcing her vision to focus. Mei Chen stared back at her with pale-blue eyes wide in terror. Fresh blood painted the young maid’s mouth crimson, a stark contrast against skin as pale as new snow. Her gaze fixed on the wound she’d made.

Xiulan tightened her grip around Mei Chen’s shoulders. “It’s alright. Just hold on. It’s working.”

Xiulan, I’m scared. The thought echoed through their spiritual connection, raw with panic.

Without Mei Chen drinking from the wound, Xiulan found breathing easier. She maintained the steady rhythm—exhaling ice, inhaling warmth. The yin energy diminished with each cycle, draining away like water through countless newly-opened channels.

Mei Chen’s dantian pulsed in time with her breathing. Fresh yang energy sparked within the spiritual core, growing stronger with each beat, the balance shifting gradually but steadily.

It’s enough. Xiulan focused on the growing warmth. It has to be enough.

Mei Chen’s tongue darted across the wound on Xiulan’s neck. It stung but the bleeding stopped. Her sobs vibrated against Xiulan’s skin, each breath punctuated by a shuddering gasp.

Xiulan rubbed gentle circles on Mei Chen’s back. The qi flow shifted at the damaged meridian, unclogging like a frozen stream in spring. Spiritual energy rushed through the cleared pathway, no longer threatening to burst.

Xiulan hooked her chin over Mei Chen’s shoulder. Their breathing synchronized: inhale, exhale, a steady rhythm that guided the healing process.

Exhaustion pulled at her, but then—

The burning cold vanished so suddenly that Xiulan blinked in surprise. She’d lost herself in their shared breathing, in the careful balance of energies between them. Yang energy began to pool where yin had dominated.

“That’s enough.” Master Qingfeng’s voice cut through the room and the array’s power ceased.

Xiulan pulled back to examine Mei Chen. A healthy flush had replaced her ghostly pallor. Her chest rose and fell in steady, natural breaths.

The spiritual connection dissolved. Mei Chen shuddered.

“Mei Chen?”

Strong arms crushed Xiulan in an embrace that forced air from her lungs. “Careful—you might break me.”

Mei Chen released her grip and pulled back. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with dried blood.

“It’s okay.” Xiulan dabbed at the crimson stains with her sleeve, wiping away the evidence of their ordeal.

“Is she okay now?” Feng Yu stepped closer, her amber eyes filled with concern.

Mei Chen’s head snapped up. A feral hiss erupted from her throat as she pushed against Xiulan’s shoulders, rising to glare at Feng Yu. A second hostile hiss ripped through the air, echoing off the chamber walls.

Feng Yu stopped mid-step as Master Qingfeng sprang to his feet. “Be careful.”

Xiulan grabbed Mei Chen’s waist and yanked her back down. The young maid landed in her lap with a surprised yelp, eyes widening in shock.

“Mei Chen, don’t hiss at people.” Xiulan kept her grip firm but gentle. “This is Feng Yu—she helped save you.”

Mei Chen stared at Xiulan, mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “Xiulan Xiulan Xiulan Xiulan!” The words tumbled out in a desperate rush.

“Yes, it’s me.” Xiulan patted her back, feeling the tension drain from Mei Chen’s muscles.

Mei Chen seized fistfuls of Xiulan’s robe and buried her face against her chest. Hot tears soaked through the fabric as deep sobs wracked her small frame.

Xiulan stroked Mei Chen’s hair, letting her fingers glide through the dark strands. Each gentle touch seemed to release a little more of her friend’s distress.

Relief and Equipment

In the darkest night, even a ghost may find its way back to love. The bonds we forge transcend death itself, turning wrathful spirits into guardians of those they cherish. Yet we must remember that such transformations come with both blessing and curse, for the price of defying nature's laws is never small.
—Master Bai Yue, Hand of Mortal Healing

Master Qingfeng cleared his throat. “We must keep constant watch over her. Until we understand her behavior, she might harm others without meaning to.”

Mei Chen’s breaths slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep, each one tickling Xiulan’s collarbone as the young maid curled against her chest, fingers twisted into the fabric of Xiulan’s robes.

Xiulan nodded quietly. Being cautious was wise.

“Is it wise to allow her any freedom?” Feng Yu asked. “Wrathful spirits are hunted down and destroyed for good reason. Even if she’s not acting like a monster now, she’s far from normal.”

Xiulan’s eyes widened as she stared at Feng Yu. What betrayal is this?

She tightened her arms slightly around Mei Chen’s sleeping form. The protective gesture drew a contented sigh from the girl.

“I’ve erected barriers around the Treasure Pavilion.” Master Qingfeng straightened his robes. “She won’t be able to leave the grounds, but not all our staff possess sufficient cultivation to defend themselves.”

He fixed Xiulan with a stern look. “You’ll bear responsibility for her actions. If she turns malicious, we cannot allow her to remain free. If the worst was to happen, we’d need to return her to karma.”

A lump formed in Xiulan’s throat. “We’ll watch her carefully.”

Feng Yu frowned at Xiulan, concern etching across her face.

“Now, I must begin renovating this room.” Master Qingfeng gestured at the frost-covered walls. “This has occupied the forging chamber far too long.”

Xiulan winced at the thought of the damage. “The cost…”

“Do not worry on that.” Master Qingfeng waved off her concern. “You’ve paid your dues in full. I factored the possibility of such damage into our arrangement.” He turned toward the central slab. “You may go. I have work to do. We’ll discuss things tomorrow. Expect Ming Lihua to monitor the girl and situation.”

Ming Lihua… Merchandiser Ming?

Xiulan cradled Mei Chen against her chest as she led the way out of the chamber. Feng Yu’s boots clicked behind them in a steady rhythm.

“What was that?” Xiulan kept her voice low to avoid disturbing Mei Chen’s peaceful sleep.

“What?” Feng Yu matched her hushed tone.

“About Mei Chen.”

Feng Yu’s footsteps faltered. “I’ve never heard of a wrathful spirit that didn’t cause destruction on a wide scale. We need to be careful.”

“After everything—”

“I understand how precious she is to you,” Feng Yu cut in. “But being careful protects her, too. Qingfeng’s intentions remain unclear now that your deal is complete. This could be another test. Mei Chen’s condition is unprecedented—he might decide to capture or destroy her. We don’t know how she’ll behave. Yes, she shows attachment, but I didn’t think her behavior was normal. Didn’t you notice the changes in her?”

Xiulan’s breath caught in her throat. Of course she had noticed. The weight of Feng Yu’s words were heavier because they were true. She had focused so hard on the tree instead of the forest.

Mei Chen whimpered and clutched tighter to her robes, small fingers twisting into the fabric.

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“You’re exhausted and overwhelmed. I understand.” Feng Yu stepped closer. “But I’m not your enemy. I want Mei Chen to succeed, too. We just need time to understand this. Like Qingfeng said, nothing like this exists in the entire kingdom.”

They reached the guest room. Xiulan pushed the door open with her shoulder, careful not to jostle her precious cargo.

She headed toward the bed, adjusting Mei Chen’s weight in her arms. “Time isn’t something we have the luxury of right now,” she said. “I need to check on Mother and Brother at the manor, see what damage the Chao attack caused.” The words tumbled out faster with each breath. “We have to organize a resistance before their army arrives. I don’t even know if Cousin Min made it here, or if the provincial prefect sent orders.”

Moonlight filtered through the window, casting silver highlights across the floor. For the first time she realized just how long things had taken. The sun had been up when they had started.

“Without a writ from Brother, I can’t raise an army—if there’s even anything left of the city guard to organize. The family armory in the city burned with everything else.” Her chest tightened. “And we have no idea how many cultivators the Chao family plans to send.”

She turned to set Mei Chen down but stopped. The girl stared up at her with wide, alert eyes. The stress in Xiulan’s voice had stirred her from sleep.

“Mei Chen?”

Xiulan lowered her onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath the girl’s slight weight.

“Xiulan!” Mei Chen beamed up at her.

Xiulan suppressed a frown. If Mei Chen could only repeat names, how could she protect her? The weight of responsibility pressed down—

“Xiulan, everything will be okay.” Mei Chen wrapped her arms around Xiulan’s legs from her seated position.

The unexpected coherent response stunned Xiulan. She patted Mei Chen’s silky hair before settling onto the bed beside her. Across the room, Feng Yu knelt at the low table, organizing several scattered cups.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Xiulan kept her tone gentle.

Mei Chen gripped Xiulan’s arm and shot a suspicious glare at Feng Yu. “Someone tried to steal you.”

Xiulan’s jaw dropped. The accusation hung in the air like frozen qi.

“St-steal?” Feng Yu stammered.

“I can smell her all over you!” Mei Chen lifted her own sleeve to her nose and inhaled deeply, her eyes widening. “I can smell her inside me too!”

She snapped her attention back to Xiulan. “Was she inside of you?!”

A deep crimson flush spread across Feng Yu’s cheeks.

Xiulan’s cheeks heated as well, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Unfortunate phrasing aside, Mei Chen could detect their qi signatures through scent somehow.

“You can smell our qi? Our energy? Is that what you mean?” Xiulan asked.

Mei Chen darted another suspicious glance at Feng Yu before nodding emphatically. “It’s a smell. She smells like cinnamon.” Mei Chen turned to stare at Xiulan’s neck and then leaned in to take an awkwardly deep sniff. “You smell like peach! But she’s there too…” Mei Chen looked down at her sleeve and sniffed her arm again.

Feng Yu let out a weak laugh. “I’ve been teaching Xiulan some cultivation techniques. And I helped with the array to revive you.”

“Techniques? Reviving?” Mei Chen’s brow furrowed as she tested the words.

Xiulan drew a steadying breath. “You were hurt very badly, Mei Chen. You died.” She squeezed the girl’s cold hand. “Your spirit is attached to your body, but technically you’re a… uh… ghost. And now we’re both immortals—cultivators who use qi.”

Mei Chen opened her mouth, then closed it. She lifted her pale hands in front of her face, turning them back and forth. “Oh...”

Xiulan slipped her arm around Mei Chen and pulled her close. The gentle squeeze brought a bright smile to the girl’s pale face.

“A lot has happened, and we need to be careful. Especially about not hurting anyone.” Xiulan stroked Mei Chen’s hair. “Some people might use that against us.”

Mei Chen blinked up at her with wide eyes.

“Do you under—”

Mei Chen switched focus suddenly and sprang up from the bed. Her bare feet pattered across the wooden floor as she darted to the dressing table. She snatched up an ornate wooden comb and rushed back.

“Xiulan’s hair is a mess! I was sick too long!” The comb trembled in her eager grip.

Xiulan released a slow breath. “Do you want to comb my hair?”

Mei Chen nodded with such enthusiasm that her own brown locks bounced.

The sound of gentle laughter drew her attention. Feng Yu’s amused smirk was… annoying!

“How about you comb Feng Yu’s hair first?” Xiulan suggested. “It’s in even worse shape—someone tried to burn it all off.”

Mei Chen’s nose wrinkled as she peered at Feng Yu’s sandy brown hair. “Worse shape? Burned off?”

Feng Yu’s smirk vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock.

How’s that for turning the tables? Xiulan did not suppress her grin. “If you help Feng Yu first, you can take as many strokes as you want with mine after.”

Mei Chen clutched the comb to her chest and turned to Feng Yu. “Can I comb your hair?”

Feng Yu swallowed hard before nodding. “Of course.” The stare she turned on Xiulan was a loaded are you playing with my life!?

Xiulan erupted in melodic laughter.

Merchandiser Ming’s exaggerated smile set off warning bells in Xiulan’s mind as they stepped into the trade hall.

The space felt intimate compared to Fershere’s sprawling pavilion, yet retained the same level of meticulous organization. Shelves lined the walls in neat sections, each displaying carefully arranged cultivation supplies. The familiar layout brought back memories of her earlier shopping trip for alchemy ingredients.

“I need a Fire Reinforcement Pill.” Feng Yu cast a sideways glance at Xiulan.

Xiulan shook her head. “With the manor destroyed, I can’t craft one right now. We’re also pressed for time.” Both turned expectantly toward Ming Lihua.

Ming Lihua hummed a cheerful note. “A basic fire pill costs one hundred spirit stones.”

“Add it to our list.” At that price point, she didn’t even pause to consider it.

Feng Yu’s eyebrows lifted at the quick response.

“The money belongs to both of us.” Xiulan tapped the small spirit stone pouch in her robe’s hidden pocket. “You helped gather these, remember?”

“Your generosity exceeds reasonable bounds.” Feng Yu’s tone contained worry.

Xiulan chuckled. “Your concern warms my heart.”

That treasure from Dawn Valley put the scales in her favor; she’s right. Still, investing in Feng Yu’s strength served both their interests.

“Show us your spiritual gear selection.” Xiulan turned her attention to Ming Lihua.

Ming swept her arm toward a section of the trade hall filled with rows of martial attire. Dozens of outfits lined the walls—everything from practical combat gear to ornate Taoist robes and even official court dress. The subtle hum of protective enchantments resonated through the displays.

“For your upcoming confrontations, I recommend something with enhanced physical protection.” Ming Lihua walked to a specific display and pulled out a black and turquoise robe.

Xiulan froze. The style, the cut, the subtle pattern along the hem—it mirrored her favorite outfit from Lin Manor down to the last detail. But the fabric gleamed with newness.

“Did you have this made based on my old robes?” Xiulan narrowed her eyes at Ming Lihua.

Ming Lihua studied the ceiling with exaggerated interest. “The fabric is spirit-infused silk. It’ll turn aside any mortal blade and resist both acid and fire damage.”

The merchandiser’s obvious deflection confirmed Xiulan’s suspicions. Someone had been paying very close attention to her wardrobe choices weeks ago.

“This would pair nicely with a red sash.” Feng Yu ran her fingers along the fabric’s edge. “The contrast would be striking.”

Xiulan snapped her gaze to Feng Yu. “Are you trying to copy my style now?”

Ming Lihua pulled a second robe from the rack—nearly identical to the first but adorned with delicate gold trim along the edges. The enchanted silk shimmered under the pavilion’s spirit stone lights. “Both are available if you’re interested.”

“Is this some kind of setup?” Xiulan crossed her arms.

Ming Lihua straightened the robes on their hangers. “Two hundred spirit stones each.”

The price made Xiulan wince. She’d already spent several hundred stones on supplies in Fershere, plus the fire pill, and these robes would take another significant chunk from their funds. Still, the defensive enchantments woven into the fabric would prove invaluable; protection against blades and elemental damage alone justified the cost, especially with the wealth they’d acquired.

She needed to avoid her tendency to love to hoard things. She wasn’t here to fill a sect treasury vault.

“Add them to our list.” Xiulan nodded.

Ming Lihua hummed a cheerful tune while arranging the robes at the end of the rack for later packaging.

“Weapons.” Feng Yu fixed Xiulan with an appraising look. “Your current ones are inadequate. You need something that won’t shatter in your hands.”

“But I might lose it...” Xiulan laughed weakly.

Feng Yu’s stern stare brooked no argument.

“Fine.” Xiulan turned to Ming Lihua. “Show us your weapons.”

“Right this way.” Ming Lihua gestured toward another section of the hall.

Feng Yu strode toward the weapon racks with purpose, bypassing the standard swords and sabers. Her eyes locked onto a collection of spears. She lifted each one, testing the balance, the metal singing through the air as she spun and thrust.

Xiulan watched from beside Ming Lihua as Feng Yu’s attention shifted to an unusual weapon—a hybrid between a glaive and naginata. The curved blade gleamed with a polished sheen. Feng Yu extended it toward Xiulan.

The weapon settled in her grip with surprising lightness. The balance felt natural, almost extending her reach rather than weighing her down.

“Perfect for channeling lightning.” Feng Yu nodded with approval. “The metal composition will withstand intense heat without warping.”

Ming Lihua cleared her throat. “Severing Light—crafted by Treasure Pavilion Elder Lei Huoshan. Five hundred spirit stones.”

Xiulan almost dropped the weapon in shock. That was a lot. Yet something about the way it responded to her qi made her hesitate.

“The blade cuts through spiritual armor up to Qi Refining.” Ming Lihua traced a finger along the gleaming edge. “The specialized alloy allows for substantial qi channeling without degradation.”

“We’ll take it.” Feng Yu moved toward a display of shorter blades before Xiulan could protest.

Xiulan shot Ming Lihua a resigned nod. Perhaps giving Feng Yu free rein over their purchases wasn’t the wisest choice. Still, the weapon’s capabilities aligned perfectly with her needs.

They were going to war, after all…

Feng Yu lifted a pair of ornate daggers from their display case. The blades gleamed with five distinct patterns: earth-brown swirls near the hilt, crimson flame etchings along the spine, aqua ripples near the point, emerald leaf designs on the cross-guard, and silver geometric patterns woven throughout.

“The craftsmanship suggests Skyward Institute work.” Feng Yu traced the intricate patterns with her finger.

Ming nodded. “They are. Three hundred stones for the set.”

Xiulan winced before she said, “I’ll take them as well.”

Ming Lihua placed a wooden box of simple iron darts on the counter. “These serve well as disposable weapons. One stone for the lot.”

That was much easier. She had a few ideas for them after fighting the assassins, too.

Two sets of arm and shin guards caught Xiulan’s attention next. Spirit-infused metal plates connected by flexible leather straps promised additional protection without sacrificing mobility.

Another four hundred stones…

A full suit of armor dominated the far wall. The price tag made Xiulan’s eyes widen—enough spirit stones to bankrupt her. Maybe another time.

Ming Lihua presented sheets of talisman paper marked with precise calligraphy. “Both offensive and defensive formations, pre-drawn by our resident array master. Ten stones each.”

A stack of jade-green pills followed. “Superior to standard healing medications,” Ming Lihua explained. “Triple the potency of common remedies. Ten stones each as well.”

Xiulan paused at an elegant recurve bow. The weapon beckoned with possibility, but archery would demand time they didn’t have.

“We’ll take six of each talisman type, and ten of the recovery pills.” Xiulan stepped back from the displays. “That should do it. We’ll return if specific needs arise. Better to maintain our resources.”

“For hiring the bounty hunters?” Feng Yu raised an eyebrow.

Ming Lihua perked up. “The pavilion maintains extensive contacts. We could circulate notice of employment opportunities. Given that the bounty which drew them here remains unclaimed, many hunters might prefer guaranteed payment over uncertain prospects.”

“I’ll consider hiring hunters once we know more. Right now, we need this gear and to check the estate.” Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light, still marveling at its perfect balance.

“I’ll calculate your total.” Ming Lihua reached for her abacus.

“Wait.” Xiulan set the weapon down with deliberate care.

Ming Lihua’s eyebrow arched upward.

“Dear Ming.” Xiulan flashed her sweetest smile. “Given our wonderful relationship, my repeat business, and how I accepted so many of your excellent suggestions... wouldn’t a twenty percent discount be appropriate?”

Feng Yu pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you trying to get thrown in jail again?”

“Ten percent would be reasonable.” Ming Lihua’s professional smile remained fixed.

“But Ming...” Xiulan adopted her best wounded expression. “We get along so well. How about fifteen?”

Ming Lihua’s lips twitched. “Twelve and a half percent.”

“Thirteen percent and round down to the nearest stone?” Xiulan leaned forward. “Half numbers bring bad luck, after all.”

“I’ve never heard such a superstition.” Ming Lihua drummed her fingers on the counter.

“Thirteen is a lucky number.” Feng Yu grinned.

Xiulan high-fived her. “Good job!”

Feng Yu blinked in confusion at the high-five.

“Fine.” Ming accepted. “Thirteen percent, rounded down to the nearest full stone.”

Xiulan bowed with a flourish.

Ming rolled her eyes. “I’ll calculate your total immediately before you end up in jail.”

They all laughed.

Returning Zephyr

Family bonds transcend the boundaries of life and death. A loyal servant may rise as a fierce guardian, while a sister's love can bridge the gap between heaven and earth.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Mei Chen latched onto Xiulan’s sleeve with surprising strength as they moved down the Treasure Pavilion hallway. Xiulan patted her shoulder in gentle reassurance as they followed Feng Yu into Qingfeng’s study, where the scent of aged paper and sandalwood incense permeated the air.

Merchandiser Ming stood rigid beside Qingfeng’s ornate desk, clutching a leather-bound ledger. “No incidents during the night, master.”

Qingfeng nodded from behind his desk and gestured toward the chairs. The sunlight streaming through the window cast geometric shadows across the polished wood.

Xiulan guided Mei Chen to one of the cushioned seats before settling beside her. Feng Yu positioned herself against the far wall, arms crossed.

Mei Chen wrinkled her nose. “The air feels dense.”

“Dense?” Qingfeng leaned forward.

“I can’t smell anything except summer.” Mei Chen rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Like heated stones and dry grass.”

“Interesting.” Qingfeng drummed his fingers on the desk. He turned his gaze to Xiulan. “While I understand your need to visit your family, taking Mei Chen beyond these walls carries grave risks.”

“I must meet with my mother and brother.” Xiulan straightened in her seat. “We need to assess the situation and prepare accordingly. I would like to take Mei Chen with us.”

Mei Chen’s reached over to cling to Xiulan’s sleeve again. Her fingers dug into the cloth, bunching the fabric.

Qingfeng shook his head. “We lack adequate safety measures. Mei Chen awakened mere hours ago.”

Feng Yu stepped away from the wall. “Master Qingfeng, I spent the night observing Mei Chen. She’s shown remarkable awareness and control.”

Xiulan watched as Mei Chen traced patterns on her sleeve.

“She spoke coherently. Combed my hair.” Feng Yu gestured toward Mei Chen. “Asked questions about her surroundings. Followed basic instructions. These aren’t the actions of a mindless wraith.”

Mei Chen’s fingers stilled. “I want to stay with Miss Lin.”

Qingfeng rubbed one of his temples. “Noble intentions aside, if she lost control, could either of you stop her? The karma of releasing an uncontrolled wrathful spirit would haunt me through ten lifetimes. Think of the countless lives at risk.”

The words struck like knives.

“Two skilled cultivators should—” Feng Yu started.

“Should what?” Qingfeng settled his hands on the desk. “Die trying to subdue her? Or live knowing their failure cost innocent lives?”

Mei Chen released Xiulan’s sleeve, her fingers uncurling one by one.

“I won’t hurt anyone.” Mei Chen stared directly at Qingfeng. “I just want to stay close to Miss Lin.”

Qingfeng’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Lin travels toward danger. Others might attack her. What then?”

Mei Chen’s mouth dropped open. Her gaze darted to Xiulan, bringing a chill to the air that raised goosebumps along Xiulan’s arms. When Mei Chen turned back to Qingfeng, frost sparkled in her hair.

“I... I... I might hurt them.” Mei Chen twisted her fingers together. “But I wouldn’t hurt anyone else.”

“Well.” Qingfeng stroked his beard. “At least you can reason and speak honestly.”

“I’m not stupid.” Mei Chen’s shoulders hunched. “I’ve taken care of Miss Lin all my li... li... life.”

“And what,” Qingfeng leaned forward, “if they attacked and killed Miss Lin?”

The temperature plummeted. Frost crackled across Mei Chen’s chair, spreading in delicate patterns across the wood.

Mei Chen stared at her hands, the frost melting away as quickly as it had appeared. The warmth crept back into the room, leaving only damp spots on the wooden chair as evidence.

“Your control over qi remains unstable at best.” Qingfeng tapped his fingers on the desk.

“Well, after that question, I almost lost my temper, too.” Feng Yu scoffed. “What if Miss Lin died? Really? Have you no confidence in her abilities?”

Qingfeng fixed Feng Yu with a stern glare. “That wasn’t my intended point, as you well know.”

Feng Yu stepped behind Mei Chen’s chair and wrapped her arms around both chair and girl. “Look at this adorable thing. She’s as well-adjusted as any cultivator—better even.”

“I won’t be engaging in direct combat on the trip.” Xiulan straightened the wrinkles Mei Chen had left in her sleeve. “We’re visiting my family. We should have time before any forces arrive, and then we’ll return to prepare. The risk of death is minimal.”

“That argument lacks conviction.” Qingfeng sighed. “But if you’re determined, so be it. I’ll allow it and work on preparing a seal for Mei Chen—one that could prevent any catastrophic events. I’d hoped to have it ready before your departure.”

“I apologize for the trouble.” Xiulan bowed her head. “You’ve shown us tremendous consideration already.”

Xiulan pushed herself up from the chair. Mei Chen latched onto her arm before she finished standing, pressing close against her side.

“Exercise extreme caution.” Master Qingfeng’s weathered features creased with concern.

Feng Yu nodded toward Xiulan, and they stepped into the lantern-lit hall.

“The gear and supplies await us in the preparation room.” Xiulan adjusted her stance to better support Mei Chen’s grip. “We just need to change and equip everything.”

“What about horses?” Feng Yu glanced at the windows lining the corridor.

“Horses would slow us down.” Xiulan shook her head. “I planned to use qinggong—”

“But...” Feng Yu’s gaze drifted meaningfully to Mei Chen.

Xiulan studied Mei Chen’s pale features. “What do you think about trying your new legs?”

Mei Chen tilted her head. “Legs?”

Xiulan tracked Mei Chen’s joyful bounds through the mountain air. Each leap carried the girl higher, her pale form a blur against the morning sky as she landed only to spring forward again in an enthusiastic sprint.

The rocky path wound upward beneath their feet as they blazed across the terrain, qi-enhanced steps eating up the distance.

Feng Yu kept pace beside Xiulan. “I can’t believe this.”

A delighted shriek pierced the air as Mei Chen launched herself skyward again. This time she didn’t descend, instead hovering above them with her robes billowing in the wind. She twisted to face backward, drifting along as they ran.

“This is fun!” Mei Chen’s laughter echoed off the mountain slopes.

“Be careful!” Xiulan called up to her. “You’ll scare people to death if they spot you flying around like that.”

Mei Chen’s eyes widened. She wobbled in the air, qi fluctuating as she nearly lost her supernatural balance. With a quick recovery, she righted herself and dropped down to sprint alongside them, matching their pace step for step across the plateau leading to the family estate.

One thing was certain: Mei Chen was acclimatizing her new abilities very quickly.

Qi-enhanced steps carried them across the terrain much faster than a horse could have traveled, much less a carriage or wagon. The afternoon sun was only half spent by the time the familiar walls of the Lin Family Estate emerged in the distance. Beyond the walls, the outskirt fields stretched toward the horizon, brown and understated.

The three of them halted at the crest of the final hill.

“Mei Chen, we’re almost there.” Xiulan turned to face her companion. “You’ll need to blend in—no powers, no flying. Act normal.”

“Normal.” Mei Chen nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

“The manor is smaller than I expected.” Feng Yu scanned the modest estate.

“Blackmere ranks among the poorest counties—and not just in qi density. We’re essentially a backwater.” Xiulan gestured at the sparse landscape.

Feng Yu released a thoughtful hum. “I still look forward to meeting your mother and brother.”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. “You sound eager to join the family.”

“Well, I’m already your martial sister. That counts, right?” Feng Yu grinned.

“Sister!?” Mei Chen’s eyes widened. “But... but... but!!”

Laughter bubbled up between Xiulan and Feng Yu. They each captured one of Mei Chen’s arms, sandwiching her between them as they started down the path toward the manor.

“Don’t worry, Mei Chen. We aren’t leaving you out.” Xiulan squeezed her arm.

Mei Chen beamed and squeezed back. “This... I... this is amazing! I should have died sooner!”

Xiulan almost stumbled. “Don’t wish that,” she whispered, too soft for the others to hear.

The closer they approached, the more Xiulan noticed the subdued activity around the estate. Workers moved through the distant fields with practiced motions, and smoke drifted from the craft building chimneys.

Yet something felt off about the rhythm of daily life.

The main gates stood sealed—unusual for this time of day. Metal brackets and heavy wooden bars reinforced the thick doors. The recent attack must have triggered heightened security measures.

How did they fight off those two assassins? The question nagged at her. The two killers had nearly overwhelmed her and Feng Yu despite their combined strength. There certainly wasn’t anyone in the manor capable of that when she left…

“Let me handle any talking.” Xiulan kept her voice low.

“Sure?” Feng Yu shrugged.

As they drew within twenty paces of the entrance, Xiulan searched for signs of the usual guard. The small postern door remained shut tight, its post abandoned. No one looked down or signaled to them.

“We should climb over.” Xiulan pointed to a section of wall partially hidden by trees.

“Is that safe?” Feng Yu eyed the stone barrier.

“Unlike Fershere or the Treasure Pavilion, these walls don’t have defensive talismans.” Xiulan ran her fingers along the rough surface.

Feng Yu patted her travel pack. “Maybe we should use those ones we bought from the pavilion.”

“What does a talisman do?” Mei Chen bounced on her toes.

“They create barriers against intruders.” Xiulan traced the wall’s edge. “But they don’t last long, so we’ll save them.”

Xiulan gripped the rough stone and scaled the manor wall. Below, Mei Chen drifted upward like a leaf caught in a breeze, while Feng Yu vaulted over with a single qi-enhanced leap. They dropped into the narrow alley between the wall and storage buildings, landing softly on packed earth.

“Easy enough.” Feng Yu brushed the dust from her robes.

“Let’s head to my mother’s pavilion.” Xiulan pressed against the cool stone wall.

The inner courtyard bustled with more activity than the grounds outside: servants hurried past carrying stacks of scrolls while officials in formal robes discussed matters in hushed tones. Several people paused to stare at their group with puzzled expressions, but none showed a flash of recognition. Xiulan guided them through the winding back streets, avoiding the main pathways.

At the pavilion’s outer wall, Xiulan sprang up and balanced on the narrow ledge. Feng Yu and Mei Chen followed, their feet finding purchase on the weathered stone.

“Why are we still sneaking around?” Feng Yu whispered.

“Eh, we already came this far.” Xiulan shrugged.

They slipped into the garden, and Xiulan froze.

Zhang Wei darted across the grass, wooden practice sword whistling through the air as he sparred with Ren Chun. Her brother’s laughter rang pure and clear. Her mother perched on a moss-covered rock, sunlight catching the joy in her eyes as she watched them play.

Ren Chun’s gaze shifted toward their approach, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. Zhang Wei seized the opening and cracked his practice sword against Ren Chun’s shin.

“Ouch!” Ren Chun hopped on one foot but maintained his smug expression as they drew closer.

“Xiulan!” Zhao Lian sprang up from her seat, eyes wide.

Strategic Shift

The most dangerous enemies are not those who strike from shadows, but those whose grievances stem from blood spilled by our own hands. Each drop calls for an ocean in return.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan watched Ren Chun and Feng Yu across the garden, speaking in hushed tones while Zhang Wei practiced nearby, his wooden sword cutting through the air with determined swings.

The sweet scent of jasmine tea wafted from her mother’s cup as she poured. Behind Xiulan, Mei Chen knelt on an embroidered cushion with unnatural stillness—almost perfectly adapting her previous demeanor as her maid.

“The Chao family delivered their demands a few days ago,” Lian said as she set down the delicate pot. “They insist we surrender ourselves for trial in their domain regarding the deaths of Madam Zhang and her children.”

Xiulan gripped her teacup tighter. “What happened during the attack?”

“Two assassins breached our defenses. They cut down dozens of guards like wheat.” Lian‘s hands trembled. “If Ren Chun hadn’t arrived when he did...”

“He helped you escape?”

“Yes. He got Zhang Wei and me to safety, then faced both assassins alone outside the manor walls.” Lian ‘s eyes drifted to where Ren Chun stood. A subtle flush colored her cheeks.

No. Stop right there. Xiulan forced her thoughts away from that particular path. Her mother was a widow, yes, and Ren Chun... No. Absolutely not.

“What about Cousin Min?” Xiulan asked quickly.

Lian shook her head. “We’ve sent a dozen messengers. None have returned. The Chao family must be blocking communications within the prefecture. No word or reinforcements have arrived either.”

The tea cooled in Xiulan’s cup, untouched. She studied the rippling surface in thought.

“We need information from beyond the county borders.” Xiulan set her cup down with a sharp clink. “The Chao family wields far more influence than our current resources can match.” The admission tasted bitter. “Father understood their reach. He was right to be worried about what they could do, at least.”

Her fingernails dug into her palms. Despite everything she’d learned, she couldn’t excuse his choices, though—even if the threats had been real.

“I’ve sealed the estate,” Lian said. “But none of my messengers to the city returned either. After that, I sent a platoon of soldiers. Like the messengers, they did not return.”

“We encountered two of their cultivators yesterday. They were likely responsible.” Xiulan straightened. “Feng Yu and I eliminated them. For the soldiers… we cremated their bodies at the crossroads at the bottom of the mountain.”

Lian’s teacup froze halfway to her lips. “Then what happened in the city?”

“The city manor lies in ashes. Our people scattered—I don’t know where.” Xiulan’s jaw tightened. “The magistrate I appointed... they cut him down. The remaining officials hide like rats.”

“The Chao family musters an army.” Lian’s hands trembled as she set her cup down. “Our soldiers prepare here, but we lack the numbers to challenge them.”

“Ten thousand men march toward us.” Xiulan’s words fell like stones. “Plus an unknown force of cultivators.”

The color drained from Lian’s face. She glanced between Feng Yu and Ren Chun across the garden. “Perhaps... perhaps we should abandon the county. Even with three cultivators, the Lin family cannot—” Her voice cracked as worry etched deep lines around her eyes.

“Things aren’t hopeless.” Xiulan straightened her spine. “Feng Yu and I acquired substantial funds recently. The Chao family’s bounty on m—” She caught herself. “On that rogue cultivator attracted numerous mercenary cultivators to Blackmere. The Treasure Pavilion can help us hire them for battle.”

Lian frowned at her teacup. “Mercenary cultivators.”

“As long as our spiritual forces outnumber theirs, the number of regular soldiers won’t be decisive.” Xiulan traced the rim of her cup. “Even so, with the county seal and a writ from our family head, I can conscript forces from Blackmere City.”

She paused, considering the logistics. “Though we’ll need to transport the estate’s armory there first. The city’s weapon stores burned in the attack.”

Steam curled from Lian’s cup as she released a pained breath. The jasmine scent couldn’t mask the bitter undertone in her words. “I never expected any of this.”

Xiulan reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand, the familiar softness of her skin bringing back memories of childhood comfort. “We have to be strong now.”

“Of course you’re not alone.” Ren Chun strode across the garden with confident steps.

“Things aren’t as dire as they appear.” Feng Yu followed close behind.

Xiulan jumped at their sudden appearance. The garden’s ambient sounds must have masked their approach.

She studied Ren Chun’s relaxed stance. “How did you defeat those two cultivators by yourself? Feng Yu and I struggled against them together.”

“Ha! I’m a hero, obviously.” Ren Chun puffed out his chest. “After completing my bone reinforcement, I experienced an epiphany and broke through. You’re looking at your senior now—I’ve already begun Qi Gathering.”

Xiulan blinked rapidly. Such a breakthrough shifted everything. Qi Gathering represented a massive leap in power, especially for someone who achieved it through natural insight.

“It pains me to admit this.” Feng Yu crossed her arms and scowled. “But he’s significantly stronger now.”

“How did the Chao family present their demands? Did Lord Chao send a message directly?” Xiulan turned to her mother, the steam from her untouched tea swirling between them.

“Yes.” Lian turned toward a nearby servant. “Bring the missive.”

The servant bowed and hurried away. Within moments, they returned carrying an ornate wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl designs.

Lian lifted the lid and extracted a rolled parchment. The broken red wax seal caught the light as she passed it to Xiulan.

Xiulan’s fingers traced the cracked seal’s intricate pattern—definitely authentic. The Chao family’s distinctive mark stood out. She unrolled it, scanning the precise calligraphy.

Each word twisted like a knife in her gut. Lord Chao laid out his intentions with brutal clarity: Blackmere City would fall. The Lin estate would burn. She and her mother faced death or capture. Only Zhang Wei would be spared—to be molded into a puppet head of the family before the lands transferred to House Chao.

Xiulan rolled the parchment tight. This escalation defied noble tradition. Minor disputes between houses typically resolved through quiet negotiations or careful maneuvering. When conflicts erupted beyond private resolution, they moved to higher courts—the provincial magistrate or, in extreme cases, the Royal Court itself.

By all standard protocols, this dispute belonged before the prefect for proper arbitration.

Unless they know what really happened to Madam Zhang and her children, Xiulan thought.

Unless they have proof of what I did.

She rolled the scroll tighter, her knuckles whitening. Two critical details pierced through her racing thoughts.

The Min family controlled the Provincial Court and held the ducal seat. Her mother’s connections should have provided protection, yet those same ties gave House Chao legitimate grounds to bypass local authorities. They could push straight to the imperial courts, where the Min family held no sway.

Those courts worked slowly enough to give them plenty of time for the aggressive conquest they were pursuing.

A chill ran down her spine as the second realization struck. The murder of the Chao family members provided them perfect justification. But worse—her patricide of Lord Lin Tian would negate any complaints about their aggressive actions.

The revelation twisted in her gut like a poisoned blade.

Who would defend a daughter who murdered her own father?

Steam rose from her abandoned teacup as she stared unseeing at the garden. The rumors they’d spread provided temporary cover, but dozens of drunken witnesses had attended that celebration. The truth lurked beneath a thin veneer of confusion and conflicting accounts. House Chao needed only to produce evidence convincing enough to raise doubt.

Any imperial investigation would cut straight to the truth, regardless. Lying to an imperial court meant death—assuming they survived long enough to face such charges.

The scroll crackled under her tightening grip. Her mother dabbed at her tea with trembling hands while Zhang Wei’s practice sword whistled through the air behind them, each swing marking the passage of precious time.

“So?” Feng Yu brushed a strand of sandy hair from her face. “What’s your plan?”

Xiulan turned toward Ren Chun and Feng Yu. She raised three fingers.

“First, we must secure the estate’s defenses.” Xiulan lowered one finger. “Mother and Zhang Wei need constant protection, and the official treasury and government here holds all the critical documents of the county. Those must be preserved.”

The wooden practice sword whistled again.

“Second.” Another finger dropped. “We need a courier to reach House Min. Either to intercept my cousin on the road or go straight to the ducal seat.” Xiulan glanced at her mother. “Grandfather might intervene regardless of circumstances. He can apply force to make this go through proper courts rather than allowing armed conquest.”

Lian frowned, worry evident on her face. “The Min family name still carries weight.”

“Third.” Xiulan lowered her final finger. “I’ll return to Blackmere to raise our defense. The mountain pass creates a natural bottleneck—they’ll need to take the city before reaching the estate with their main force. Between the county funds and my recent windfall, we can hire mercenary cultivators.”

“A sound strategy.” Feng Yu straightened. “If we repel their military advance convincingly, House Chao must pursue official channels instead of force.”

Xiulan released a measured breath. “We’ll need to split our cultivators between locations. They might send their spiritual forces over the mountain while their army approaches through the pass.”

“So.” Feng Yu shifted her amber gaze between them. “That just leaves the question of who does what?” She fixed her stare on Ren Chun.

“I’ll stay here to protect the estate,” Ren Chun declared.

Xiulan noticed her mother’s cheeks flush pink as she looked away, suddenly fascinated by the garden’s flowering bushes. No. Absolutely not. I refuse to acknowledge this.

“Perfect.” Feng Yu adjusted the saber at her hip. “I believe I can help convince Lord Min to support our position.”

Xiulan released a heavy breath. “I don’t know how I can ever repay either of you.”

“Don’t be silly.” Feng Yu waved dismissively. “You’re my martial sister now—these trials make excellent training.”

“What!” Ren Chun’s eyes widened. “Martial sister?”

Mei Chen rose from her cushion in one fluid motion and settled next to Xiulan. “Neither of you get her.”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. Ren Chun and her mother stared at Mei Chen with matching expressions of bewilderment—this marked her first words since arriving.

“Didn’t we agree to share?” Feng Yu raised an eyebrow at Mei Chen.

“But now there’s another one.” Mei Chen glanced between Ren Chun and Lian. “Auntie doesn’t count though.”

Lian pressed her fingers to her mouth, suppressing laughter. “I’m relieved to hear that.” She softened her gaze. “And I’m so happy to see you recovering, Mei Chen. I feared the worst.”

A puff of frost escaped Mei Chen’s lips as she examined her pale hands. “I’m... different now.”

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s shoulders. “Even if you’ve changed, we still care for you just the same.”

A gentle smile spread across Mei Chen’s face. “I’ll stay with Xiulan.”

“Yes, that was the plan all along.” Feng Yu shifted her weight shaking her head with a smile.

“Good!” Mei Chen’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Xiulan turned to her mother. “I’ll need an official writ and the family seal to mobilize forces.” She rubbed her temples. “The city manor signet might still be in the ruins. Or someone might have managed to salvage it during the evacuation.”

“No!” Zhang Wei bounded across the garden, wooden practice sword clutched tight.

Every head turned toward him.

Zhang Wei planted his feet and lifted his chin. “You can’t have it.” He pointed the practice sword at Xiulan. “I’m the new lord of the family. Ren Chun should get it instead!”

The practice sword clattered against the stone path as Zhang Wei spun and sprinted away.

Xiulan released a pained breath.

“I’ll speak with him.” Lian rose from her cushion, smoothing her robes.

Xiulan nodded. The weight of Zhang Wei’s rejection pressed against her chest.

How could he ever forgive what I did to Father and Suyin?

After their footsteps faded, Ren Chun’s boots scraped against stone. “Now that we’re alone...”

Steel whispered against leather as he drew his sword. “We need to have a chat.”

Feng Yu’s amber eyes widened. Her hand darted to her saber’s hilt.

“Why have you brought a wrathful spirit here?” Ren Chun’s blade caught the sun. “What karma follows someone who murdered their own family, Lin Xiulan?”

Xiulan pushed to her feet. Every muscle tensed as her qi surged through meridians primed for combat.

A bone-chilling hiss erupted from Mei Chen. Frost crystals swirled through the air around them, transforming the nearby air into winter’s breath.

Karmic Sigh

True justice cannot exist without understanding, just as strength cannot exist without purpose. Those who wield either without wisdom become slaves to their own rigid beliefs.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s waist and pulled her close. Frost crystallized across the garden, coating nearby plants in ice patterns. The sweet scent of peach blossoms mixed with the sharp bite of winter air.

“It’s true. I killed them.” The words fell from Xiulan’s lips like stones into still water.

Ren Chun’s sword remained steady, sunlight glinting off the polished steel. “You won’t even deny it?”

“They tortured Mei Chen.” Xiulan tightened her grip as arctic wind whipped toward Ren Chun, carrying Mei Chen’s threatening hiss.

“My sisters helped Madam Zhang.” The memory of finding Mei Chen’s broken body flashed through Xiulan’s mind. “They did their best to torture me.”

“Lower your blade, Chun.” Feng Yu approached, amber eyes alert. “This situation needs understanding, not violence.”

“Understanding?” Ren Chun scoffed. “She murdered her own family!”

“After they tried to murder me first.” Xiulan hugged Mei Chen’s frost-covered shoulder. “They poisoned my food. Lin Jin attacked me unprovoked in Mother’s courtyard. I defended myself, which only made them more determined.”

Cold anger crept into her voice. “Father’s corruption let Madam Zhang take Mei Chen. They murdered an official, torturing him to death. They did the same to Mei Chen. The only reason she’s here now is because of a cultivation pill’s peculiar effects. Everything spiraled beyond control.”

Frost crackled across the stone path as Mei Chen shuddered against her.

“It’s a violent end—not black and white.” Feng Yu raised her hands. “House Chao’s army approaches. We need unity, not division. Would you doom Zhao Lian and Zhang Wei? The Chao family only wants to profit from the Lin family’s loss.”

Ren Chun’s sword wavered. “You’re defending a kin slayer?”

“I’m defending someone who protected the innocent.” Steel entered Feng Yu’s tone. “Would you rather she let Mei Chen die?”

The garden fell silent except for the soft crackle of spreading frost.

“Even so, Mei Chen is already dead!” Ren Chun jabbed his sword toward the frost-covered garden. “How can you pretend she’s not when it’s clear she’s a wrathful spirit? She’s unnatural—or do you think this frost is normal?”

Xiulan traced the crystalline patterns spreading across nearby stones. Master Qingfeng’s words echoed in her mind. “The Treasure Pavilion Master himself approved this. He helped revive her.”

Feng Yu nodded in agreement.

“Mei Chen’s spiritual core remained intact after death.” The technical details flowed from Xiulan more easily than emotional explanations. “The Golden Meridian Opening Pill preserved her consciousness. She has retained her original personality and memories… just with some... adjustments.”

“He will be creating safety seal for her.” Feng Yu added. “The only danger right now is you provoking her.”

Xiulan leaned in and whispered to Mei Chen, “It’s okay. Calm down.” The frost retreated as she stroked Mei Chen’s hair. “Master Qingfeng wouldn’t have released her otherwise. He’s too cautious for that.”

Ren Chun stared at them, sword tip wavering.

Feng Yu stepped toward Xiulan and Mei Chen, positioning herself between them and Ren Chun. “Even if you slayed Xiulan, it would just doom the Lin family. Or do you think you can actually fight Mei Chen without casualties? Did you jump to Golden Core and keep it hidden?”

“No, but—”

Feng Yu drew her saber and pointed at him. “So your ‘justice’ means everyone must die for some misguided belief that the world is black and white!”

Lines creased Ren Chun’s brow as he adjusted his stance. “You might have matched me before, but you can’t challenge me now.”

“Blind justice.” Feng Yu spat the words. “I despise nothing more. Such righteousness killed my mother. Fools like you who can’t see past their own rigid beliefs disgust me.”

Ren Chun retreated a step, sword tip lowering toward the frost-covered ground.

A flash of red caught Xiulan’s attention as Feng Yu pulled out a pill. The same Fire Reinforcement Pill they’d purchased from the Treasure Pavilion earlier.

“What are you doing?” Xiulan watched qi ripple around the pill’s surface.

“Not everyone lacks the wit of this brainless monkey cultivator!” Feng Yu tossed the massive fire pill into her mouth and swallowed.

“You’re insane!” Ren Chun stumbled back another step.

Feng Yu lifted her chin. “And not everyone possesses your pathetic lack of talent!”

Xiulan yanked Mei Chen backward as transparent flames erupted around Feng Yu. The sudden heat pressed against Xiulan’s skin while Feng Yu’s hair whipped upward in a violent thermal updraft.

“You absolute idiot!” Ren Chun shouted.

Waves of scorching qi rolled outward, flash-steaming the frosted garden.

Mei Chen buzzed with supernatural energy in Xiulan’s arms. A translucent blue shield materialized before them, deflecting the intense waves of heat.

Ren Chun lifted his arm to shield his face, his sleeve smoldering at the edges as nearby plants withered and browned. The sweet scent of icy peach blossoms transformed into acrid smoke.

The air crackled with a series of thunderous pops. Qi vibrations pulsed through Xiulan’s meridians like ripples in a pond. She’s opening her meridians just like that?

The flames surrounding Feng Yu contracted inward, compressing into her body. She planted her feet wider and raised her sword despite her heavy breathing.

Xiulan’s eyes widened as she sensed the change in Feng Yu’s qi signature. The energy settled into an organized thrum—she had advanced from Body Refinement to Qi Gathering in an instant. Had she already cleared the Body Refinement steps before they met?

Ren Chun stared at Feng Yu, his sword forgotten at his side.

Heat rippled through the garden as Feng Yu advanced on Ren Chun. “Want to test your strength against mine now?”

Ren Chun turned away. “I wouldn’t have attacked, regardless. I promised Lady Lian.” He lowered his blade. “I just needed to seek understanding.”

“Well, you freaked Mei Chen out, idiot,” Xiulan muttered.

A sharp crack split the air as Feng Yu swung her saber. Heat waves distorted the space around her, each exhale releasing shimmering ripples of superheated qi. “A sword drawn should never be sheathed without drawing blood.”

“Hah...” Ren Chun lifted his blade. The steel flashed as he drew it across his forearm. Blood welled from the shallow cut before he wiped the blade clean and sheathed it.

“That doesn’t mean cut yourself, idiot.” Xiulan rolled her eyes at his literal interpretation.

Mei Chen buzzed with supernatural energy. “I think he’s supposed to be a friend, but I don’t like him. He threatened Xiulan for nothing!”

The heat surrounding Feng Yu subsided as she put away her weapon and moved to pat Mei Chen’s shoulder. “I agree.” She looked at Xiulan with a frown. “Though I’m shocked that arrogant young master you blasted accidentally found the real culprit.”

Xiulan couldn’t prevent a wince. “The bounty is presumably still active. This knowledge becoming common would be... problematic. I need those same hunters working for me, not against us.”

“This really isn’t an honorable battle...” Ren Chun shook his head.

“Are you still going on about that?” Feng Yu’s qi flared hot enough to singe the grass beneath her feet.

Mei Chen squeaked and bounced. “Too hot! Too hot!” She patted frantically at Feng Yu’s arms, leaving trails of frost across the fabric; steam rose where ice met residual heat.

Feng Yu drew a deep breath and the scorching qi subsided. She reached out to ruffle Mei Chen’s hair. “Better?”

Ren Chun planted his feet. “I’ll stay and lead the estate’s defense.” His gaze locked onto Xiulan. “Even if Fairy Feng ignores it, even if you had your reasons, even if I look past it—nothing will wash away the karma of killing your father and sisters.”

The words struck deep, but Xiulan kept her expression neutral. Before she could respond, her mother emerged from behind a row of scorched bushes, followed by panicked servants who scattered to stomp out smoldering patches of grass.

Zhao Lian clutched an ornate lacquered box to her chest. “What happened here?”

“Ren Chun threatened Xiulan!”

“I was seeking answers—”

“I was putting an idiot in his—”

“Mother, I can explain—”

The overlapping voices echoed across the garden. Lian blinked at the cacophony. “Nevermind.” She stepped toward Xiulan. The box’s gold inlay caught the sunlight as she lifted the lid, revealing a jade seal nestled on white silk. A bronze gilded scroll was nestled beside it.

“Do what needs to be done,” she said before closing the box with a soft click.

Mei Chen darted forward to accept the container, then extended it toward Xiulan with both hands.

“You can hold it for me, Mei Chen.”

Mei Chen hugged the box close. A pleased hum vibrated through the air.

Zhao Lian’s gaze drifted from the scorched grass, and then to the main pavilion. “Focus on your cultivation, Xiulan. Your future lies there now.” Pain threaded through her words. “Despite my best efforts... your brother does not forgive easily.”

Fortification Wave

A city's strength lies not in its walls but in its organization. When the framework of authority crumbles, swift action must rebuild these structures before disorder takes root.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Feng Yu turned and waved before disappearing down the winding mountain path. Xiulan squeezed Mei Chen’s cold hand, studying the steep cliff face before them.

“Mei, we’re going down the hard way.” Xiulan gestured toward the sheer drop. “Can you float?”

Mei Chen tilted her head, dark eyes scanning the rocky descent. “Yes?”

“Great.” Xiulan released Mei Chen’s hand and stepped to the cliff’s edge. “I’ll go first—follow when it’s safe.”

The first outcropping jutted from the cliff face twenty feet below. Xiulan gathered qi in her legs and leapt, her boots striking the solid rock with a satisfying crunch. A second ledge beckoned another fifteen feet down. She pushed off again, landing in a crouch. Three more precise jumps brought her to a wider shelf.

Xiulan glanced up to check on Mei Chen—and nearly lost her balance. The “wrathful spirit” hovered just overhead, completely inverted.

Mei Chen’s brown ponytail dangled toward the ground as she gaped at Xiulan. “Xiulan, be careful! You could fall!”

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “You’ll catch me if I do.”

Determination transformed Mei Chen’s features. She held out her clenched fists and nodded firmly as she said, “Yes.”

Xiulan chuckled and continued her descent through a cluster of cypress and pine trees. The slope gradually leveled out, and Mei Chen touched down to walk beside her.

“Where are we going?” Mei Chen kicked at loose stones. “Why didn’t we stay on the road with Miss Feng?”

“We’re looking for a special spot.” Xiulan traced the flow of ambient qi through the mountainside. “Somewhere with strong spiritual energy.”

Feng Yu had extracted the location from Ren Chun, a rare qi-rich spot where he achieved his breakthrough.

Xiulan scanned the dense forest ahead. Blackmere suffered from spiritual drought, making cultivation spots as rare as diamonds in mud. The alternative meant venturing into monster-infested wilderness beyond the county borders.

She glanced at Mei Chen. No way would she risk that right now.

Still, she needed to find the place since her cultivation now lagged behind both Ren Chun and Feng Yu. The golden pill’s power helped, but she refused to fall behind so badly.

The forest thickened as they approached the area between estate and city, closer to where mist rose from the distant swamps. Untamed wilderness stretched in every direction.

Mei Chen sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything special.”

“Keep trying as we walk.” Xiulan stepped over a fallen log. “Your senses might detect it before we get there.”

“Yes!” Mei Chen straightened and lifted her nose higher, determination etched across her pale features.

Xiulan quickened her pace through the dense forest. Behind her, Mei Chen showed off her new supernatural agility, floating over fallen logs and darting between trees. Her delighted laughter echoed through the branches.

The sun climbed higher as they pressed deeper. Sweat dampened Xiulan’s robes while she maintained her enhanced speed for hours, scaling small ridges and navigating around thorny thickets.

“Xiulan! Xiulan!” Mei Chen bounced in the air. “I can smell it!”

Xiulan halted mid-stride. “What do you smell?”

“The forest scent grows thicker there.” Mei Chen pointed northeast. “Different from everywhere else.”

Following Mei Chen’s direction, Xiulan pressed forward until the ambient qi density shifted. The spiritual energy thickened like honey in her meridians with an entirely new resonance. Perfect.

A small clearing opened before them, ancient stones arranged in a perfect circle amid a small break in the forest canopy.

“I need to refine my muscles like Feng Yu explained.” Xiulan turned to Mei Chen. “It might take a while and... I’ll probably smell terrible. Could you patrol the area and keep watch?”

“Stinky?” Mei Chen tilted her head.

Xiulan reached out and flicked Mei Chen’s nose playfully. Mei Chen yelped and rubbed her nose.

“Yeah, but not as bad as the first time. Though with your sensitive nose, it might be... worse,” Xiulan said.

“I’ll guard you while you do it!” Mei Chen declared.

Xiulan nodded and began removing her gear and outer robes.

“Miss Xiulan, you’re getting naked!” Mei Chen squeaked and spun around.

“Yes.” Xiulan mimicked Mei Chen’s tone with a laugh.

Mei Chen moved to a safe distance and floated up to a tree branch to keep watch.

Xiulan finished disrobing completely, leaving nothing on to be ruined by whatever left her body. She settled at the center of the stone circle in a meditative lotus pose.

The air felt different, charged with potent qi that pulsed through her meridians. Thankfully, any remnants from Ren Chun’s breakthrough a few days earlier were completely absent. The qi flows likely dissolved any residual filth quickly, unlike the gunk that had marred her courtyard back at the estate.

She closed her eyes and focused inward. Muscle reinforcement, including my regular organs. The first step in the physical aspects of Body Refinement.

She visualized her meridians, tracing their paths through her body. Over time, she had roughly mapped out which meridians corresponded to which muscles.

Breathing deeply, she extended her qi thread through as many meridians as possible. She’d doubled the number of nodes she could reach simultaneously, now managing sixty to seventy at once.

That was nowhere near what she had seen Feng Yu perform with her muddied—well, previously muddied—meridians.

The task before her was deceptively simple: thread qi through every muscle in her body, reinforcing the tissue while flushing away impurities. It was grueling, yes, but still the “easiest” part of Body Refinement. The stages ahead—skin tempering and bone reinforcement—would only grow harder.

The last stage, she knew, would almost certainly require specialized alchemical drugs or a pain tolerance bordering on the inhuman. Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about that at the moment.

Xiulan took a steadying breath. She would approach this in ten stages, one part of her body at a time. Starting with her feet and lower legs was the most logical choice; a strong foundation was essential, both for cultivation and for life.

Or, well… if she fucked it up, she wouldn’t be brain dead, just crippled.

Her qi began to flow. Slowly, she directed it into her feet, coaxing the energy to spread through the muscles of her soles and arches, ensuring the qi reached every part. She felt resistance, the impurities clinging stubbornly to the tissues, but she persisted.

There was a subtle flush as the process finished. She moved on to her calves, focusing on the main muscles in the lower legs. Black droplets of impurity beaded on her skin, rolling down to join the growing puddle beneath her. The process burned—not with fire, but with the deep ache of transformation as qi flowed smoothly through the muscles.

She progressed methodically upward. Thighs tensed and released as qi threaded through the large muscles at the front and back of her thighs, ensuring strength and stability. Her core muscles trembled as the energy suffused her abdomen, targeting her stomach, liver, intestines, and other lower organs, purging toxins from them and reinforcing her center.

Each group required precise control to avoid damaging the tissues while expelling accumulated impurities.

Sweat mingled with the dark discharge as she worked through her torso. The qi coursed through her chest and back, strengthening her lungs and heart, pulsing rhythmically with the steady flow of energy. It surged through the rest of her internal organs like her kidneys, flushing toxins from the deepest parts of her being.

Her arms shook as she threaded energy through the muscles of her upper arms, forearms, and shoulders. By the time she reached her neck, every movement felt like pushing through mud. She focused on the muscles supporting her head, ensuring no tension or toxins remained.

A final push cleared the last impurities from her face, including the muscles used for expression and the organs of her senses, leaving her vision clearer and her mind unburdened. Her brain came last, and with it came a sudden release of tension and exhaustion.

Shit. She should have started there first…

Everything suddenly felt much clearer after the slog.

Opening her eyes, Xiulan looked up. The sun had shifted position; they were well within the later half of the day. She stood up, took a deep breath, and released it, the qi circulation rushing stronger than she had ever experienced before.

It felt like her new lungs could pull in a substantially larger amount of qi with each breath.

Fuck, why hadn’t she pushed toward doing this sooner?

Well… the place of power had been handy, but she could have found one herself, so that excuse felt weak. Perhaps she really had just failed to practice her qi thread capability…

Ugh.

She blinked and surveyed her surroundings. A pool of black ichor stained the stone beneath her, giving off a rancid odor. Ick.

Looking up, she spotted Mei Chen perched at the very top of a towering pine, pinching her nose dramatically while peering down at Xiulan.

“You really do stink!” Mei Chen called from her safe distance.

Xiulan flexed her fingers as they walked toward Blackmere City. Each movement felt amplified, precise—almost dangerous. She misjudged her strength twice, snapping small branches she meant to push aside.

When they finally arrived, it was already late, and there wasn’t much time to take care of the rest of the tasks she had planned for the day. At least, not with the help of the sun.

Her plans couldn’t wait. People were going to have to put up with a long work day this time.

The city’s muted atmosphere greeted them at the gates. Mei Chen stayed close, occasionally sniffing the air and pointing out different scents with childlike enthusiasm.

The Treasure Pavilion’s ornate entrance came into view, where Brothers Mo and Long stood at their usual posts, maintaining their vigilant watch.

“Miss Lin.” Brother Mo executed a formal martial salute.

Brother Long followed suit, his eyes tracking Mei Chen’s presence. “Welcome back.”

Inside the courtyard, Ming Lihua emerged from the main pavilion’s entrance hall, her purple robes catching the evening light. “Ah, Miss Lin. I hope your trip proved fruitful?”

“It did.” Xiulan placed a hand on Mei Chen’s shoulder. “Could you watch over Mei Chen while I attend to some business in the city?”

Mei Chen’s lips curved into a pout. “I want to go with you.”

“I know.” Xiulan gave her a squeeze around the shoulders. “But I need to speak with some military officials. How about we play Go tonight before bed?”

Mei Chen’s face brightened. “Promise?”

“Promise. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Ming Lihua beckoned to Mei Chen. “Come. I have some interesting artifacts you might enjoy examining.”

Xiulan watched Mei Chen follow Ming inside, then turned toward the merchant district. She had scattered military officials to track down.

The main watch building buzzed with disorganized activity. Junior soldiers rushed past each other without purpose or direction. Papers scattered across desks, and half-eaten meals sat abandoned.

“Where’s the captain?” Xiulan grabbed a passing soldier’s sleeve.

“Don’t know, miss. Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Three more soldiers gave similar answers. At the captain’s desk, Xiulan rifled through scattered reports. A hastily scrawled note caught her attention: orders for immediate transfer to a distant village, signed by the captain himself.

Coward.

A broad-shouldered sergeant hustled past, barking orders at two recruits. Xiulan stepped into his path. “Sergeant. Your name?”

“Liu Bao, Miss...?” He straightened his uniform.

“Miss Lin Xiulan. Your lord’s sister. Congratulations on your promotion to Acting Captain, Liu Bao.”

His weathered face paled. “But Miss Lin, I’m just a commoner. I can’t—”

“You can and will. Round up every soldier in the city. Appoint new unit leaders from your most capable men. I want everyone assembled at the government building within four hours.”

“The men won’t listen to a commoner’s orders.”

Xiulan grabbed Liu Bao’s arm and pulled him toward the officer’s quarters. Dust coated the abandoned room’s surfaces, along with papers scattered across desks and half-empty tea cups growing mold. She yanked open drawers until the glint of brass caught her eye.

“Here.” Xiulan pressed the officer’s seal into Liu Bao’s calloused palm. “Now it’s official. Your second task: locate Instructor Han Shun and gather information about our family’s soldiers.”

Liu Bao studied the seal. “Some Lin guards integrated with city patrols after the attack. The rest...” He shrugged.

“What a mess.” Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen carefully. Gather everyone—all one thousand guards—tonight. Anyone who refuses faces arrest, regardless of rank. They’ll hear a decree from me.”

“Yes, Miss Lin.” Liu Bao straightened his spine and hurried out.

Good. Xiulan hurried out of the building. Now, she had to take care of the hard part.

The city magistrate’s building came into view as Xiulan strode through Blackmere’s streets. The doors were abandoned. She pushed them open and froze.

The chaos inside surpassed even the watch building’s disorder.

Papers littered the inner courtyard. Inside, overturned desks and empty wine bottles painted a picture of abandonment and chaos. The scent of spilled ink and stale alcohol permeated the air.

How many days had it taken to devolve into absolute anarchy and utter abandonment of their duties?

The two assassin cultivators had truly destroyed all morale and discipline…

A snore drew Xiulan’s attention to a portly official sprawled across three cushions. She grabbed his collar and yanked him upright.

“Wake up!”

The man’s bleary eyes snapped open. “Wha—”

She released him and stormed through the building. Empty offices. Scattered documents. A trail of destruction that spoke of hasty looting rather than organized evacuation.

A flash of movement caught her eye—another official trying to slip out a side door. Xiulan crossed the room in three strides and seized his arm.

“Get everyone. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Twenty minutes later, two dozen trembling officials lined up before her—there should have been at least forty. Their wrinkled robes and unwashed faces betrayed days of neglect.

“Pathetic.” Xiulan paced before them. “You abandoned your posts when the city needed you most.”

Several shuffled their feet. One stared at the floor.

“Tell your missing colleagues they have until tomorrow to resume their duties. After that, they’ll be branded criminals.” She stopped pacing. “Spread the word.”

She stopped and looked at them, her gaze probing. “Who’s the highest-ranking official present?”

Silence answered.

“Dead or fled, Miss Lin,” someone mumbled.

Xiulan pointed at a middle-aged man with ink-stained fingers. “You. Congratulations on your promotion.”

The man stammered. “But I just handle tax records—”

“Not anymore. Listen carefully: Stock the granaries. Check the fire-fighting equipment. Fill every cistern. Keep the streets clear. These are the priorities to be taken care of immediately.”

She swept her gaze across the group. “Tomorrow, we begin the draft. Any official who fails their duties goes first on the list.”

The assembled bureaucrats straightened their spines and bowed.

“Yes, Miss Lin!”

Mastery Push

True friendship transcends social barriers and death itself. When two souls resonate in perfect harmony, neither heaven nor earth can tear them asunder.
—Sage Master Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Exhaustion dragged at Xiulan’s limbs as she made her way back to the Treasure Pavilion’s guest building near midnight, the endless parade of incompetent officials and disorganized soldiers having consumed her entire evening. Still, she’d promised Mei Chen a game of Go.

That extra hour stretched her already limited reserves, but Mei Chen’s excited smile made it worthwhile. The ghost girl proved surprisingly adept at the strategic board game, winning repeatedly.

Or maybe it was just Xiulan’s own lack of skill at the game…

When sleep finally beckoned, Xiulan tucked Mei Chen into the adjacent bed before collapsing into her own. The soft mattress welcomed her into immediate darkness.

Morning sunlight pierced through her eyelids far too soon. Something cold pressed against her side, and Xiulan reached out, patting the empty space beside her.

Strange.

A weight circled her middle. Xiulan blinked away sleep and lifted the blanket to find Mei Chen curled into a tight ball, arms locked around Xiulan’s waist. The ghost girl’s skin radiated a light chill akin to being wrapped in a cooling blanket.

Perfect for summer coming in a few months?

“Xiulan, Xiulan, Xiulan,” Mei Chen mumbled in her sleep, tightening her embrace.

“Hah...” Xiulan sighed and smoothed down Mei Chen’s tangled hair. After everything the girl endured—death, resurrection, transformation—such attachment made perfect sense.

She traced the cool skin beneath her fingers, memories flooding back. Mei Chen had shadowed her steps since they could barely walk, sharing every moment in Consort Lian’s cramped courtyard. The servant’s quarters—tight and drafty—had been their sanctuary.

An image surfaced: six-year-old Mei Chen chasing her through flowering osmanthus trees, their giggles drawing Lan Zhao’s fond smiles. Another flash—Mei Chen dabbing medicine on Xiulan’s scraped knee after a failed attempt to climb a courtyard wall. Winters passed as they huddled under shared blankets, whispering secrets into the dark.

Mei Chen at twelve, practicing calligraphy alongside her, ink staining their fingers black. Teaching each other to fold paper cranes, their clumsy attempts littering the wooden floor. Sneaking extra sweet buns from the kitchen, crumbs dusting their lips as they hid behind garden stones.

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s sleeping form and lifted her into a proper embrace. Mei Chen’s eyes fluttered open, wide and questioning in the morning light.

“Good morning, little ghost.”

“Don’t leave me alone.” Mei Chen pressed closer, fingers gripping Xiulan’s sleeve.

Xiulan squeezed her tight. “Never again.” The embrace lingered until nature called with increasing urgency. “I need to use the bathroom.”

When Xiulan returned, Mei Chen darted around the room like a winter breeze—straightening bedding, organizing clothes, dusting surfaces. She snatched up an ornate wooden comb. “Miss, your hair needs attention.”

Xiulan settled onto a cushion. “Go ahead, but we’ll need to see Master Qingfeng after breakfast.”

The comb glided through her dark strands as Mei Chen worked with practiced care. A servant knocked and entered with a laden tray: steaming congee, pickled vegetables, tea eggs, and hot tea.

They shared the meal in comfortable silence, Xiulan studying Mei Chen between bites. The ghost girl consumed the food with evident enjoyment, but…

As far as she could tell, she hadn’t produced any visible signs of metabolic processes. No sweat beaded her pale skin. Her chest rose and fell in the rhythmic pattern of qi circulation rather than respiratory need.

Does she even need to eat?

The food vanished without ill effect. Perhaps her spiritual form converted sustenance directly into energy—another mystery for Master Qingfeng’s expertise.

“Will we visit Mother today?” Mei Chen set down her bowl. “When does Fairy Feng return?”

“Do you understand what the Chao family threatens?” Xiulan asked.

Mei Chen’s gaze dropped to the floor as cool air swirled around them. “They bring an army?”

Xiulan nodded. “We need to prepare for what’s coming.”

“I’ll protect you!” Mei Chen’s declaration echoed with supernatural resonance.

“I know you will.” Rising from the remnants of breakfast, Xiulan stretched. “Let’s get ready.”

Mei Chen guided the spiritual martial robe over Xiulan’s shoulders, its black and turquoise fabric settling with familiar weight. Her fingers worked efficiently, securing ties and smoothing wrinkles before moving to Xiulan’s hair. The silver hairpin slid into place with practiced precision.

“Your turn.” Xiulan slid out a rack of fresh robes that were a bit smaller than her own.

Mei Chen glanced down at her faded servant’s garments. “But I’m already dressed?”

“A cultivator can’t wear servant’s robes.” Xiulan unfurled an emerald green silk robe trimmed with silver thread.

“No!” Mei Chen backed away. “Those are far too fine for someone like me! And—and the fastenings look complicated. I can’t do them on my own!”

“That’s why you have me.” Xiulan smiled.

A pink flush spread across Mei Chen’s pale cheeks. “Miss Xiulan can’t dress me! It’s improper!”

“Watch me.” Xiulan stepped forward.

Mei Chen’s fingers trembled as she removed her old clothes. Xiulan lifted the new robe, guiding Mei Chen’s arms through the sleeves. The silk whispered against her pale skin as Xiulan adjusted the layers, her movements deliberate and careful. Years of watching Mei Chen dress her made the reverse simple enough.

Mei Chen stood transfixed before the bronze mirror.

“I used to dream of wearing something like this.” Mei Chen’s whisper echoed with longing.

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen from behind, studying their reflection in the mirror. “You look stunning. Far better than dreams, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes.” Mei Chen traced the embroidered patterns along her sleeve. “I like it very much.”

Xiulan selected a jade hairpin from the vanity, its delicate flowers matching the robe’s design. She wove it through Mei Chen’s brown hair. “Perfect. Now we should see Master Qingfeng.”

Mei Chen fell into step behind Xiulan as they entered the Treasure Pavilion’s courtyard. Merchants and workers hauled crates of dried meat and grain across the flagstones. The activity painted a clear picture—preparations for the coming siege had begun.

The higher-ranked immortals like Qingfeng and Ming wouldn’t need physical sustenance, but the mortal staff and lower-level cultivators required food to survive.

Xiulan spotted Ming directing workers on the ground floor of the main pavilion.

“Master Qingfeng awaits you in the back garden,” Ming said without looking up from her ledger. “He’s expecting you.”

“Expecting us?” Xiulan blinked. She’d planned to seek his counsel, but hadn’t arranged a formal meeting.

Ming nodded. “Best not keep him waiting.”

The back garden revealed itself as they passed through the sole entrance—Xiulan’s first glimpse of the private sanctuary.

“I smell summer.” Mei Chen inhaled deeply.

Xiulan nodded. Based on Mei Chen’s previous reaction to Qingfeng’s qi signature, his presence lingered nearby. They walked toward the garden’s center.

They found him sitting cross-legged on an emerald cultivation mat beneath a gnarled plum tree. Two identical mats rested before him, positioned with precise symmetry. Xiulan eyed the arrangement with suspicion.

“Master Qingfeng.” Xiulan bowed respectfully and saluted. Mei Chen mirrored her movement, the emerald silk of her new robes rustling.

“Please, join me.” Qingfeng gestured to the empty mats.

Xiulan settled onto the right mat, folding her legs beneath her in the proper cultivation stance. Mei Chen knelt on the left mat, back straight and hands folded in her lap.

Qingfeng reached for a lacquered box on the low table beside him. The wood gleamed with subtle protective arrays as he placed it before Mei Chen. “Open it.”

Mei Chen lifted the lid. Inside, a bronze chain held a golden medallion no larger than a coin. She lifted it into the morning light, the metal catching the sun’s rays.

“What is that?” Xiulan leaned forward to study the intricate patterns etched into the medallion’s surface.

“A safety seal.” Qingfeng nodded toward the medallion. “This will reduce Mei Chen’s power below the Golden Core level to something more manageable. She won’t be able to remove it herself, and it will suppress and conceal her unique nature. The seal will effectively render her equivalent to a normal Qi Gathering cultivator.”

“What about—” Xiulan started to ask, but Mei Chen pulled the medallion around her throat.

The chain clicked shut around her neck. A resonant thump pulsed through the garden air as the medallion settled against her skin. A blue diamond crystal materialized on her forehead, glowing with the same intensity as a spirit stone.

“I can stay with Xiulan now, right?” Mei Chen bounced forward on her knees, emerald robes rustling.

Xiulan stared at her maid, mouth slightly open. The transformation happened so quickly that she barely processed it.

Master Qingfeng’s rich laugh echoed across the garden. “Yes, there should be no danger in her roaming outside the Treasure Pavilion now. Others won’t react as strongly to her demeanor. She appears as any practitioner of Lingdao Spirit Cultivation.”

Lingdao... different from... Xiandao? Xiulan frowned. The Chinese terms blurred in her mind—she hadn’t perfectly memorized all the game’s terminology.

Spirit Cultivation and Immortal Cultivation remained clear enough to be distinct in her memory. Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles focused almost exclusively on Immortal Cultivation, though, with only certain NPCs and beasts using other forms.

The eastern barbarians practiced Body Cultivation, while the imperial family specialized in Jiandao—Sword Cultivation.

And then there’s Modao. Xiulan suppressed a shiver at the thought of Demonic Cultivation. The practitioners from the north sparked the cataclysm that had destroyed the kingdom in their quest to achieve Moxiu—Devil Cultivation.

Xiulan gestured to Mei Chen’s cultivation mat. “Master, was there another reason for us to be out here?”

Master Qingfeng exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping. “Yes indeed. Despite your recent progress, you remain dreadfully short of the skills needed to advance to Qi Gathering. Your meditation focus and tranquility especially need work.” He smoothed his robes. “All night you spilled qi. I had Ming place spiritual talismans on the guest house to quell the black karma that escaped.”

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. The morning breeze did nothing to cool her embarrassment.

“It’s not Xiulan’s fault!” Mei Chen leaned forward on her mat. “She has been through a lot, and it stopped after—”

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen. Stopped after? The realization struck—after Mei Chen had crawled into her bed and hugged her while they slept. Xiulan winced. Had her nightmares truly manifested such spiritual filth that it required intervention? The thought of her uncontrolled qi affecting the surrounding area made her stomach twist.

Master Qingfeng turned his stern gaze toward Mei Chen. “And you must begin cultivating discipline and spirit immediately. Even if it goes against your new nature, this remains the only way to stay by Miss Lin Xiulan’s side. If you fail or refuse to learn, she will eventually leave you behind to continue on her path alone.”

Mei Chen straightened bolt upright, the medallion gleaming against her pale skin. “I’ll start right now! I promise to learn everything!”

A knot formed in Xiulan’s stomach. The thought of abandoning Mei Chen twisted like a blade between her ribs. She would slow or even halt her cultivation before leaving her friend behind, but that choice would only endanger them both in the end...

Xiulan studied Qingfeng’s weathered features. The old master’s eyes held a knowing glint. Perhaps he’d issued such a stark warning precisely to prevent her from making that sacrifice.

“You will both practice group meditation each morning while staying at the pavilion.” Qingfeng’s tone brooked no argument. “Refuse, and you’ll find these doors closed to you.”

Xiulan bowed deeply. “Yes, master, this humble one accepts guidance.”

Mei Chen copied the gesture, her emerald robes pooling around her knees.

“Close your eyes. Focus on your breath.” Qingfeng’s voice took on a measured cadence.

Xiulan tried to empty her mind, but thoughts crashed through like storm waves. The approaching army, defensive preparations, supply logistics—each concern demanded attention. While meditation might sharpen her judgment…

She feared only the release of blood would be enough to quell the violence on the horizon.

Five Elements Blade

When two paths merge into one, when past and present flow together like converging rivers, that is the moment of true awakening. We are not simply what we were or what we have become, but the sum of all our journeys.
—Master Mei Hua, Sage of Ten Thousand Brushstrokes

Xiulan guided Mei Chen back to the pavilion’s main hall. Her skull throbbed from the morning’s meditation—the exercise meant to clear her thoughts had instead left her mind feeling like overcooked pasta.

Mei Chen glided beside her with unusual grace. The former maid’s eyes remained half-closed, an air of tranquility surrounding her that seemed a bit too intense. Qingfeng’s warning about being left behind had struck deeper than expected.

Ming Lihua intercepted them at the hall’s entrance. “Miss Lin, do you require assistance?”

“We need to discuss the mercenary cultivators.” Xiulan massaged her temples.

“Ah, yes.” Ming pulled out a jade tablet. “Our intelligence suggests twenty remain in Blackmere. The others have either departed or... met unfortunate ends.”

“How much to secure their services?”

“Given the thousand-stone bounty, I’d suggest offering one hundred spirit stones for a week of combat. Plus one stone per day when idle.”

Xiulan’s stomach clenched as she calculated. Two thousand stones upfront, another hundred every five days of inaction—assuming all of them took the deal. Her remaining funds shrank with each mental tally. The weight of Severing Light at her back reminded her of resources already spent.

No choice. We need every cultivator we can get.

The prospect of a drawn-out siege gnawed at her. At what rate would her coffers empty? She pictured herself pawning her new robes, returning weapons—anything to maintain the defensive force.

Unless they attack quickly... With Feng Yu potentially bringing reinforcements, House Chao might prefer swift action.

“Agreed. Please send out the notices immediately.” Xiulan straightened her shoulders despite her exhaustion. “Charge it to my account.”

“Of course, Miss Lin.” Ming bowed and strode toward her office.

Xiulan stepped away from Ming’s retreating form and pressed her fingertips against her temples. The decisions ahead demanded her full attention.

Elements. Which path should I take?

She pictured Feng Yu’s blazing techniques: pure fire essence channeled with devastating precision. Next came images of Ren Chun’s fluid movements, water and earth elements working in perfect harmony through his sword forms despite their natural opposition.

Mei Chen stood silently behind her, radiating a cold serenity. The wrathful spirit’s yin energy carried distinct traces of water affinity, though Spiritual Cultivation often transcended traditional elemental bounds.

Wood. Fire. Earth. Metal. Water. Each element danced through her mind, presenting their strengths and limitations. None satisfied her completely.

Why choose just one? The thought sparked through her mind like lightning. Traditional wisdom preached specialization—master one path perfectly rather than stumble down many.

Fear not the man who learns one thousand strikes but the one who practices one a thousand times…

But the idea of limiting herself to a single element felt like trying to breathe with one lung. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. Pure cultivator greed drove her toward a more difficult path.

To hell with it.

She needed the flexibility of all five elements. Her alchemy required fire-wood mastery. The Thunder God’s Manual she had loved to use in the game required elemental balance in addition to harmony of yin and yang energies.

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen, who maintained her perfect servant’s posture. The irony struck her—her two closest allies embodied opposite forces. Feng Yu burned with fierce yang energy while Mei Chen radiated cold yin power.

The middle path, then. A challenging road stretched before her, but the prospect was energizing rather than daunting. She’d walk the line between all elements, between yin and yang, forging her own balanced way forward.

Ming Lihua emerged from her office and furrowed her brow at Xiulan. “Miss Lin? Is something amiss?”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. She’d been standing motionless in the hall, lost in elemental contemplation. “Just thinking.”

Ming looked at her like she expected more.

“I need additional assistance.” Xiulan straightened her robes. “Would the pavilion consider loaning alchemy equipment? And I require ingredients for elemental pills.”

“Which elements interest you?” Ming tapped her jade tablet.

“All of them.”

Ming’s eyebrows shot up. “Ambitious. Where do you plan to conduct these experiments?”

“Here in the pavilion, if permitted.”

“Simple enough to arrange.” Ming nodded. “Anything else?”

Xiulan hesitated. “Some bone reinforcement powder.”

A knowing smile spread across Ming’s face. “I could assist with the crafting.”

“The costs are already mounting...”

“Let me be direct.” Ming lowered her voice. “I’m tasked with gathering intelligence on your capabilities. Helping you craft would make my job easier. Consider it a complimentary service.”

Xiulan’s jaw dropped at such brazen honesty. A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “Why not? Okay.”

“A practical choice.” Ming’s smile widened. “I’ll even include the water pill’s catalyst at no charge.”

“What? Why would you—”

Ming glanced at Mei Chen. “The forging room collected plenty of winter’s tears during your recent visit.”

“Hah...” Xiulan pressed her palm against her forehead.

Ming led them through the trading hall, pointing out ingredients and equipment. Mei Chen bounced along behind them, gathering items with supernatural enthusiasm. A jar of earth-heart roots floated past Xiulan’s head, followed by several bottles of spiritual water.

“Mei Chen!” Xiulan grabbed a wayward mortar from its aerial path.

Ming stared at the ghostly display of levitation. “Interesting. The seal appears... not to have effected some things.”

“She’s creative.” Xiulan snatched another floating container. “Mei Chen, please keep things grounded.”

“Yes, miss.” Mei’s lips puckered with feigned innocence.

The standard guest quarters proved unsuitable for alchemy, so Ming directed them to a specialized workshop. Polished stone counters lined the walls, and ventilation arrays glowed with protective enchantments.

“This is quite suitable.” Xiulan ran her hand across the smooth work surface.

“It should be, given the rental fees.” Ming smiled thinly.

Xiulan winced at the reminder of the expenses. She arranged her materials, considering the complex path ahead. Five elements meant five different pills, each requiring its own process and understanding.

Start with earth. At least I’ve worked with it before.

She began the process, grinding spirit-infused sand with careful applications of qi. The earth-heart roots glowed as she reduced them to powder, their essence preserved through each careful step. She mixed the herbal infusion, maintaining steady qi flow as she activated the furnace.

An hour passed in focused concentration. The completed pill gleamed with a satisfying earthen hue.

Ming observed the entire process with an increasingly pinched expression. “Who neglected your alchemical education so thoroughly?”

“What?”

“Your technique...” Ming shook her head. “You managed everything technically correct, but your form is atrocious. You relied entirely on the cauldron’s guidance. That golden pill for Master Qingfeng—how could you make it? This one barely counts as standard. I assumed you were a prodigy, but you’re clearly a novice.”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. “I... specialize in one specific formula. Since you’re here to help, perhaps you could explain what I did wrong?”

A predatory smile spread across Ming’s face. “Of course. I’ll teach you everything.”

Xiulan stumbled from the alchemy room, clutching a leather pouch filled with five elemental pills, bone reinforcement powder, and body numbing powder. Her focus ached from hours of precise qi manipulation; Ming’s lessons had proved more rigorous than a month of combat training.

Or whatever she assumed a month of combat training would feel like—she had yet to get that much free time without a crisis.

Mei Chen padded behind her with disheveled hair sticking out at odd angles. The ghost girl had dozed off during the endless lectures about proper qi circulation and crystallization temperatures, her soft snores providing the only entertainment during Ming’s relentless drilling on proper technique.

Who knew alchemy required such exact movements? Xiulan rubbed her temples. Okay, she had suspected it, but in the game it had been accompanied with the most basic mini-game of click a button and watch a bar fill up.

Game did not equal reality, once again, driving the point home. Maybe the spike would get deep enough in her head that she’d stop getting lulled by meta-game confidence.

Ming had transformed into a demonic instructor, correcting every minor flaw in stance and energy flow. The merchant’s cheerful facade had vanished, replaced by an exacting taskmaster who demanded perfection.

And now… the rest of the day stretched endlessly ahead.

Reports from the new Captain of the Guard, Liu Bao, awaited review. Officials needed investigating, arrests had to be organized, and conscription efforts required oversight. After five hours of Ming’s instruction on top of Qingfeng’s meditation training…

“Miss?” Mei Chen tugged at her sleeve. “Perhaps you should rest?”

“What?” Xiulan blinked at the ghost girl.

“You’ve stared at that wall for three minutes.” Mei Chen wrinkled her nose. “The scent of fatigue rolls off you like stale air.”

“We have too much to do.” Xiulan shook her head. “I can’t rest yet.”

Xiulan adjusted the leather pouch at her waist and stepped toward the pavilion exit. Each step echoed as she contemplated the long walk to the city watch building.

Master Qingfeng descended the ornate stairs from the second floor, his robes rustling against the polished wood as he positioned himself near the main entrance.

Xiulan dropped into a formal bow, with Mei Chen mirroring her movement. “Master Qingfeng.”

A leather-bound tome rested in Qingfeng’s weathered hands. The familiar shape and markings triggered a rush of recognition—it was identical to the icons for the skill manuals from the game. The worn edges and faded script spoke of ancient knowledge.

Qingfeng extended the book toward her. Xiulan accepted it with steady hands, tracing the embossed characters on the cover: Five Elements Blade.

“You’ve chosen to master all five elements rather than specialize.” Master Qingfeng straightened his posture. “Few attempt such a challenging path. This manual is a gift to you as a congratulations.”

Qingfeng vanished up the stairs before Xiulan could respond, leaving her staring at the manual in bewilderment. The worn leather cover pressed against her fingertips as questions raced through her mind.

A free manual? From the notoriously profit-minded Treasure Pavilion? How did he know?

The gesture made no sense. Masters never gave away valuable texts without expecting something in return. Choosing all five elements hardly seemed worthy of such generosity.

There must be more to this.

Xiulan cracked open the ancient tome—detailed diagrams sprawled across yellowed pages, depicting meridian pathways and martial stances. Intricate script filled the margins with explanations and warnings. The familiar layout triggered memories of countless hours spent solving manual puzzles in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles.

Back then, mastering a manual meant decoding the riddles and unlocking new abilities. A successful solution granted instant power—new meridian configurations, enhanced techniques, or powerful buffs. But reality probably operated differently…

How does this actually work?

She traced the pristine illustrations. The manual appeared complete, with no torn pages or missing sections. Five Elements Blade—the title aligned perfectly with her chosen path.

Movement caught her attention. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted Master Qingfeng watching intently from the second-floor balcony. His gaze tracked her every motion as she examined the book.

Xiulan grabbed Mei Chen’s sleeve and bolted through the Treasure Pavilion’s main doors. The late afternoon sun struck her eyes as they emerged onto the street.

“Keep this safe until we return.” Xiulan pressed the leather-bound manual into Mei Chen’s hands. “Don’t let anyone touch it.”

Mei Chen clutched the tome to her chest and nodded vigorously.

The rest of the day blurred into a whirlwind of activity. Captain Liu Bao directed guards to set up conscription stations throughout the city squares. Officials scurried between buildings with renewed purpose, their robes fluttering as they carried scrolls and documents.

Wooden wheels creaked under the weight of grain carts rolling through the gates. The outer granary stores—normally kept separate as insurance against disaster—now streamed into the city proper. Guards directed the steady flow of wagons toward the central storage facilities.

The streets pulsed with energy. Where yesterday brought only dead silence and frozen fear, today carried determination. News of the impending attack spread through the crowds like wildfire.

Not everyone stayed to face what approached—a stream of citizens filtered through the gates, belongings strapped to their backs or piled in carts. But most remained.

Blackmere bred resilience into its people. The meagerness of wealth had forged them into survivors. Parents taught children to weather storms together, to share what little they had when times grew lean.

The citizens who stayed moved with purpose. Merchants reinforced shop windows. Neighbors organized community kitchens. Children ran messages between households. This crisis became simply another challenge to overcome—made easier by seeing someone take charge.

That thought chilled her. The people looked to her now, their determination stemming from her leadership.

Their lives rested in her hands.

When did I become responsible for an entire city?

The answer was neither when she was born nor when she had become Xiulan.

It was when two young women had become one person. Quite literally, she’d died twice and been born thrice.

Two sets of memories ran through her mind. Her spirit swirled with two pools, orbiting each other: one hard like yang, the other soft as yin. The duality followed her everywhere, from her friends to her own dual-core existence.

Something clicked in her mind. She wasn’t living in a dream or someone else’s body. This was just who she was now. This was her reality.

Lin Xiulan was also Li Mei. If Li Mei’s presence pushed forward to steer the ship most of the time, it was Lin Xiulan’s circumstances that they navigated through, together.

It didn’t feel strange anymore. She felt… whole.

Conscription Whirl

The wise commander knows that resources, like spiritual energy, are finite. Victory belongs to those who can accomplish the most with the least.
—Master Lin Feng, Scale of Heaven and Earth

Xiulan spun Severing Light in a defensive arc, but Mei Chen darted through her guard with supernatural speed. The spear yanked free from her grip, clattering across the training yard’s stones.

Two ornate daggers materialized in Xiulan’s hands. Mei Chen prowled the perimeter of their makeshift arena, frost crystals spreading beneath each silent step.

Ming’s harsh laughter echoed off the courtyard walls. “If you can’t beat her how can you protect her? Mei Chen! Perhaps you should remain here at the pavilion where it’s safe!”

“Stop encouraging her!” Xiulan shifted her stance as Mei Chen’s eyes flashed a deeper shade of blue as she gained predatory focus. “She’s already—”

A feral hiss cut through the air. Mei Chen lunged forward, crystalline claws extending from her fingertips mid-strike. Xiulan barely managed to deflect the attack with crossed daggers. The weapons and claws froze together. Xiulan drew a dart and stabbed Mei Chen in the side, but a patch of ice sprouted like frozen armor, making the blow useless.

Her meager training was coming to nothing against raw supernatural power. She had learned this lesson painfully through three consecutive defeats. Mei Chen possessed no formal combat training, but her wrathful spirit nature granted her devastating instinctual abilities.

A blur of movement caught Xiulan’s attention. Mei Chen surged forward in an impossible rush, the impact sending vibrations through her arms. Before she could counter, Mei Chen twisted, using the weapons as leverage. A leg swept up and slammed into Xiulan’s ribs.

Pain exploded through her side, but Xiulan maintained her grip on the frozen daggers. She planted her feet and swung hard with both arms, attempting to throw Mei Chen off balance. Instead of fighting it, Mei Chen moved with the momentum. Her body spun with unnatural grace, applying brutal torque to Xiulan’s wrists. The daggers tore free despite Xiulan’s best efforts.

Fuck!

The daggers thudded into the dirt. Mei Chen pounced with predatory intent, slamming into Xiulan’s chest. They crashed to the ground together, Mei Chen’s weight pinning Xiulan at the waist.

Sharp claws—gently, somehow—dug into Xiulan’s shoulders as Mei Chen pinned her against the cold stone. A low, predatory growl rumbled from deep within Mei Chen’s chest.

“You win again.” Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s torso and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Mei Chen yelped in surprise, the crystalline claws dissolving into droplets and pattering against the courtyard stones. Xiulan shifted her weight, dragging Mei Chen into a sitting position without breaking the hug.

“Look at that—the fearsome wrathful spirit’s greatest weakness.” Xiulan’s laughter echoed across the training yard.

A deep crimson flush spread across Mei Chen’s pale features. “Miss, that’s not fair!”

Ming stared at them with an unimpressed expression. “I doubt hugging the enemy into submission will prove an effective battlefield tactic.”

“Let’s hope House Chao hasn’t recruited any wrathful spirits to their cause.” Xiulan brushed dirt from her robes as she and Mei stood.

“The likelihood approaches zero.” Ming crossed her arms.

Xiulan retrieved Severing Light from where it had fallen, then collected her scattered daggers. The ornate blades glinted in the afternoon sun. “I believe we’ve had enough combat practice for today...”

Earlier practice sessions had proven more productive, at least. Xiulan twirled two iron darts between her fingers, recalling the miniature lightning strikes she’d created. The thunderous cracks had echoed through Blackmere, sending startled shouts from the streets outside the Treasure Pavilion’s training grounds—a simplified yet effective version of Thunder God Splits the Sky and Fucks You Up.

The darts provided reliable range, and the area effect proved impressive, spanning from two to ten meters depending on how much qi she channeled into the paired weapons

It was exactly the type of improved technique she needed for what was coming.

Ming accepted a wooden tablet from a servant, scanning its contents. “Eleven cultivators have registered for hire.” She glanced up at Xiulan. “Would you prefer to interview them personally, or shall I handle the arrangements?”

Xiulan sheathed her remaining daggers. “Take care of it unless someone noteworthy appears.” She adjusted the weight of Severing Light across her back. “The city defenses need attention, and I should check on the draft preparations.”

Mei Chen smoothed the wrinkles from her emerald robes and fell into step beside Xiulan as the familiar streets of Blackmere opened up before them, now transformed by the organized chaos of military preparations.

The guard’s courtyard bustled with activity. Where merchants once haggled over goods, conscripts now formed ragged lines for basic training. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the air as instructors barked commands at their charges.

Xiulan studied the temporary camp taking shape. Her ultimatum to the city officials had produced swift results—either house the conscripts or welcome them into their own homes. The threat of unwashed soldiers sleeping in their private chambers had loosened purse strings with remarkable speed.

A rumbling drew her attention. A convoy of heavily-laden carts approached from the direction of the Lin Family Estate, their wooden wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Xiulan strode toward the lead cart, noting the Lin family crest emblazoned on the canvas covers.

“Report.” Xiulan addressed the cart driver.

“First shipment of weapons from the estate’s armory, Miss Lin.” The driver handed her a manifest. “Mostly ranged weapons—crossbows and bolts.”

Xiulan pulled back the canvas cover on the nearest cart to reveal rows of polished crossbows gleaming in the afternoon light. She lifted one, testing its weight and mechanism. The trigger pulled smooth, the construction solid. Perfect for inexperienced troops—simple to learn, deadly on impact.

Xiulan scanned the courtyard for Liu Bao’s broad-shouldered figure. Several sergeants directed groups of conscripts through basic formations, their voices carrying across the packed yard.

“Where’s Acting Captain Liu Bao?” Xiulan asked a passing sergeant.

“Conscription yard, Miss Lin.” The sergeant pointed toward the eastern section. “Organizing the new recruits.”

The conscription yard was a cordoned off city square. Lines of men waited to register, while scribes recorded names and family details in thick ledgers. Each conscript received a numbered wooden tag and basic equipment: a uniform, a rucksack, and supplies.

Once they were assigned to a unit, training, armor, and weapons would come.

Liu Bao stood at a wooden table surrounded by officers, gesturing at deployment charts. The daily stipend calculations sat in neat rows beside recruitment numbers. Tax relief documents waited for official seals—a gamble that would cut deep into county revenues unless the provincial prefect approved the mobilization.

Not that they had much choice with an enemy army approaching Blackmere. Considering the circumstances, it was unlikely to be denied.

“Captain Liu.” Xiulan approached the table. “Status report?”

Liu Bao straightened. “Three thousand registered so far, Miss Lin. At this rate, we’ll field ten thousand within three days.”

“Good.” Xiulan studied the recruitment charts.

“Miss Lin.” Liu Bao cleared his throat. “How many should we accept into service?”

Xiulan considered the logistics. The numbers would strain Blackmere’s resources, but with House Chao’s army bearing down on them...

Xiulan studied the recruitment charts while calculating the logistics in her mind. Blackmere’s nearly hundred thousand residents provided a substantial pool of potential defenders, but training and equipping them all would drain their resources. The real concern lay with the cultivators.

She traced her finger along the deployment diagrams. Regular troops would man the walls and siege equipment, providing crucial support. Even basic crossbow volleys could pose a threat to enemy cultivators, especially in Blackmere’s spiritually weak environment.

The county’s thin spiritual energy presented another strategic consideration. While it wouldn’t significantly impact lower-level cultivators like herself, the siege engines would suffer. Spiritual weapons required ambient qi to function at full capacity.

Xiulan drew a deep breath.

“Cap conscription at twelve thousand.” Xiulan traced her finger along the deployment chart. “That gives us enough numbers without breaking our supply lines.”

Liu Bao nodded and made a notation. “And the existing garrison?”

“Integrate the conscripts with our two thousand regular guards. Use the veterans to train the new recruits—they already know our protocols and formations.”

“What about the civil defense?”

“Keep five thousand in reserve for firefighting and damage control. We’ll need them when the siege starts.” Xiulan straightened from the table. “Has there been any word from my family’s city manor guards? Or House Manager Han Shun?”

Liu Bao’s shoulders tensed. “Only rumors. The guards reportedly fled while being pursued by the enemy cultivators. They split into smaller groups—” He hesitated. “One group was cut down. The others vanished. No confirmation if they found sanctuary or...”

The memory of discovering her mother’s butchered platoon flashed through Xiulan’s mind: the stench of death, the flies, the vacant eyes staring skyward. She pressed her palm against the rough wood of the table, steadying herself.

“Or if they’re lying dead in a ditch somewhere,” Xiulan finished quietly.

Liu Bao straightened his leather armor. “I can send scouts to search for Han Shun and the others. We have a few riders to spare—”

“No.” Xiulan shook her head. “We need every person focused on the defense. Just ensure the regular scouts know to watch for them during their patrols.”

“Understood, Miss Lin.” Liu Bao made a note in his ledger.

Xiulan rubbed her temples. The nagging sensation of a critical oversight gnawed at her thoughts. The cultivators. She’d left their recruitment entirely to Ming Lihua. That might have been a mistake.

It was by far the most crucial point of the defense.

Ming possessed years of experience evaluating people and negotiating contracts. The senior disciple knew how to spot deception, how to gauge character. Still, delegating such a crucial task...

Xiulan glanced over her shoulder. Mei Chen stood perfectly still, hands folded, the very picture of an attentive servant. Beneath that demure exterior lurked supernatural power and unwavering loyalty. True friends were rare.

So…

Trust Ming’s choices but observe and adjust if necessary. It was a plan.

“Captain Liu.” Xiulan straightened from the table. “Keep me informed of any developments with the defense preparations.”

Liu Bao snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes, Miss Lin!”

Xiulan turned back toward the Treasure Pavilion’s towering silhouette. “Come, Mei Chen. Let’s see which cultivators have answered our call.”

A short while later, they pushed open the doors to the Treasure Pavilion’s meeting hall. Ten cultivators sat in a semicircle before Ming, who stood at a polished wooden podium. Weren’t there supposed to be eleven?

“—expect full compliance with defensive protocols.” Ming gestured to a map of Blackmere spread across the wall. “The county faces an imminent attack from House Chao forces.”

The assembled cultivators presented a stark contrast in appearances and cultivation styles. A burly man with ritual scars traced across his arms sat next to a willowy woman in scholarly robes. Twin brothers in matching green tunics flanked a weathered veteran whose qi rippled with barely contained fire. The remaining cultivators ranged from a teenage girl with wind-tousled hair to a elderly man whose wooden staff thrummed with earth energy.

Several heads turned as Xiulan entered. Their gazes lingered on Mei Chen, who radiated yin despite the safety seal at her throat. A few hands drifted toward weapon hilts.

Ming stepped away from the podium. “Allow me to introduce Lin Xiulan, who commissioned this defensive force.”

“This slip of a girl?” The scarred cultivator spat on the floor. “We’re supposed to take orders from someone barely into Body Refinement?”

“The Treasure Pavilion guarantees our payment.” The scholarly woman adjusted her spectacles. “That’s what matters.”

Xiulan suppressed a sigh. She should have anticipated the reaction from mercenary cultivators. Their disdain rolled off them in waves of hostile qi.

Lulls Before

The frost that creeps across the battlefield serves not just to destroy but to contain and control. In the mastery of ice lies the power to shape the very flow of combat itself.
—Sage Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Xiulan had studied the assembled cultivators, putting names and Ming’s notes on the ledger to the person. Each one represented a crucial tactical asset for the coming siege.

Wei Kang flexed his scarred arms, earth qi pulsing through the ritual markings. His Mountain Stands Firm technique would prove invaluable for blocking siege equipment. Though his disdain showed clearly, his reliability in combat outweighed his attitude.

Liu Shui adjusted her scholarly robes with precise movements. Her water-based healing mists could keep defenders fighting longer. The potential insights gleaned from her Imperial Academy training would help coordinate their defense.

The twin brothers, Li Ren and Li Jan, exchanged knowing looks. Their synchronized fighting style would make them an effective rapid response unit when the walls faced multiple threats.

Zhang Huo’s weathered face betrayed years of military experience. His expertise in empowering archer and crossbow units by channeling fire qi into their projectiles would give their volleys and extra explosive punch.

Yang Mei sat cross-legged on the floor, her earth qi reaching out to sense vibrations. Her ability to detect tunneling operations would prevent underground attacks. Despite her youth, her talent showed promise.

Sun Gai stroked his beard thoughtfully, wooden staff humming with natural energy. His Living Wood Reinforcement technique would strengthen their fortifications and repair damage during the siege.

Wu Yan gripped her sword with barely contained intensity. Her fire-enhanced morale charges would rally troops during critical moments, while her passionate nature made her perfect for leading counterattacks.

More cultivators arrived over the next two days. Xiulan directed them toward the Lin estate, fulfilling her promise to protect Mother and Zhang Wei. Ren Chun would coordinate their defense there.

From the second floor of the Treasure Pavilion, Xiulan had spent time observing the cultivators sort themselves into an efficient unit.

The mercenaries weren’t the only ones to drill and prepare.

Each morning brought new lessons with Master Qingfeng, his steady guidance helping to refine her qi control. Mei Chen sat beside her, making meditation look effortless.

Midday meant rounds through the city, checking conscription numbers and troop readiness. The city watch grew stronger as Liu Bao transformed civilians into a proper defensive force.

Xiulan and Mei Chen climbed the worn stone steps to Blackmere’s eastern wall. The afternoon sun cast shadows across weathered battlements as crossbowmen lined the crenellations. Steel bowstrings twanged in sequence, launching volleys into the distant fields.

Below, workers scrambled between scattered boulders with buckets of white paint. Each stroke marked ranging distances for the defenders—simple but effective. The smell of fresh paint drifted up on the autumn breeze.

The wooden frames of six mangonels creaked as crews tightened the torsion ropes. Scattered stones clattered into the cups at the ends of the throwing arms. At the signal, the release mechanisms were triggered. The arms snapped forward with explosive force, hurling the stones toward their target.

The impact points were marked with splashes of red paint on the scattered shot.

Zhang Huo stood behind a line of wide-eyed crossbowmen, his scarred hands weaving patterns of fire qi. The specialized long-bolts in their weapons sparked and ignited. Several men flinched at the flames dancing inches from their faces.

“Steady. Fire as one,” Zhang Huo commanded.

The flaming bolts launched skyward. Where they struck, flames erupted in a cascading inferno that devoured the dry grass. The crossbowmen stared in awe at the devastation their enhanced weapons wrought.

After inspecting the walls and defensive positions, Xiulan spent evenings sparring with Mei Chen in the pavilion’s training yard. Her wrathful spirit nature made her attacks unpredictable—perfect practice for the chaos of real combat.

On the third day, Xiulan entered the main hall. Ming Lihua stood before the assembled cultivators, marking positions on a city map while explaining patrol rotations. The defenders listened intently, their earlier chaos replaced by disciplined attention.

No word had come from Instructor Han. The silence gnawed at her as she watched the preparations continue.

Yang Mei burst into the hall, her practical training clothes dusty from travel. “The enemy army approaches from the western road—two days’ march, three at most. Any cultivators could arrive sooner if they split from the main force.”

Ming Lihua turned expectantly toward Xiulan.

“Let’s move this to the strategy room.” Xiulan strode toward the converted chamber, footsteps echoing against polished wood. Ming and Yang Mei followed close behind, with Mei Chen prowling at Xiulan’s shoulder.

The strategic map dominated the room’s center, its detailed rendition of Blackmere city and the surrounding territories spread across a massive table. Tiny markers represented their defensive positions, from the city walls to the distant Lin Family Estate.

Yang Mei wasted no time positioning red enemy counters along the western approach. The markers clustered to the west. They’d have to skirt the city to make their way around the crossroads leading to the estate.

Just as I predicted.

“Did you discover anything about their cultivator strength and command structure?”

“Lord Chao leads personally, accompanied by two of his sons.” Ming glanced at Yang Mei.

“I detected at least twenty qi signatures through ground contact.” Yang Mei traced the enemy positions. “That number could be higher—I can only sense those who channel qi while touching the earth.”

“So we hope for equal numbers...” Xiulan drummed her fingers against the table. “But prepare for worse, given twenty detected already.”

Ming nodded gravely. “Our best advantage lies in maintaining a defensive posture.”

Yang Mei bowed and strode from the strategy room. Mei Chen tracked her movements with predatory focus, nostrils flaring.

Ming straightened the papers on the strategy table. “The Treasure Pavilion has provided substantial support, but with enemy forces approaching, we must relocate operations to Lin Manor. Our involvement needs to become less... conspicuous.”

Xiulan released a slow breath. The timing made sense—she’d expected this conversation much earlier. The pavilion’s assistance had proven far more extensive than seemed prudent for maintaining their supposed neutrality.

Qingfeng needs me alive to collect on that favor. The thought brought a wry smile to her lips. The merchant master played a longer game than most realized.

“Thank you for everything, Miss Ming.” Xiulan traced the manor’s position on the map. “The renovations should finish tomorrow. Five thousand laborers make quick work, especially with the city’s backing. My family’s city manor will serve perfectly as our command center.”

Ming smoothed her purple robes. “One more matter requires attention.”

“Yes?”

“We secured the final cultivator position.”

“Excellent news. Who accepted?”

Ming’s severe expression softened. “I did.”

Xiulan stared at the senior merchandiser. Master Qingfeng must have approved this personally. Ming’s organizational skills and tactical insight had proven invaluable—losing her support would have damaged their preparations. But now...

“Won’t that cause problems with the pavilion?” Xiulan studied Ming’s composed features in the spirit stone light.

“I’m taking a brief vacation.” Ming adjusted her silver hair pins with practiced precision. “As an independent cultivator during my leave, Master Qingfeng assured me it shouldn’t raise any concerns.”

Of course he did. Xiulan suppressed a knowing smile. The pieces fell neatly into place.

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen, who prowled near the door. “It’s been a long day. I should retire for the night.”

“Rest well.” Ming’s eyes held a hint of warning. “It might be your last chance for proper sleep.”

The corridors stretched quiet and empty as Xiulan walked toward the guest building. She caught Mei Chen watching the direction Yang Mei had departed. “You seemed interested in Yang Mei earlier. Any particular reason?”

Mei Chen’s eyes widened into perfect circles. “She has the same first name as me!”

“And?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow.

“That’s all.” Mei Chen tilted her head like a curious bird. “She smells like fresh earth. Since we share a name, perhaps we could become friends?”

A laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. “Maybe. We can speak with her later if you’d like.”

“Only if it won’t hinder you, miss!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes.

As they approached the guest building, movement caught Xiulan’s attention. Above the Treasure Pavilion, white strands materialized in the night air. The threads wove together, forming an intricate dome of spiritual webbing before it turned transparent.

Qingfeng was raising the array defenses.

Danger drew ever closer.

Xiulan leaned against the sun-warmed stone of Blackmere’s outer wall. Below, wagons creaked through the gates, loaded with spears, bolts, and preserved food. The steady flow of supplies had managed to keep the schedule—a small comfort given the approaching army.

Mei Chen perched on a crenellation, feet swinging in empty air as she hummed an off-key tune. Her newfound contentment provided a stark contrast to Xiulan’s growing frustration with the copied manual page in her hands.

The cryptic text swirled before her eyes:

“When spring winds whisper through summer leaves,

Nature’s dance reveals heaven’s gift.

Seek the pattern where branches meet sky.”

And below it:

“Still waters mirror floating petals,

While roots drink deep of earth’s embrace.

Three paths join where seasons change.”

A third passage detailed meridian alignments:

“The dantian flows through twelve gates,

Each must align with nature’s breath,

Until body, mind, and spirit form one.”

Xiulan recognized the technique offered from countless gaming hours—Tree Sigh Mind could expand her dantian significantly at her current cultivation level. If only she could decipher the actual method...

These riddles might be the death of me before the Chao army ever arrives, she thought, studying the passages again.

A sudden burst of activity erupted at the end of the wagon line. Several carts swerved around the orderly procession, kicking up dust as they rushed forward. Xiulan tucked the manual page into her robe.

“Blood. Fresh and old.” Mei Chen stood atop the crenellation, nose twitching.

“Let’s investigate.” Xiulan stepped off the wall, qi cushioning her descent. Mei Chen landed beside her with supernatural grace.

Two guards intercepted the approaching wagons. The drivers slumped over their reins, clothes torn and stained with soot and grime. Exhaustion etched deep lines across their faces.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Xiulan strode toward the lead wagon.

“Miss Xiulan!” The first driver straightened. “We escaped—we need help!”

“Identify yourselves.”

“Lin family guards, miss. We fled the fire.”

Xiulan studied their approach path. The east? Why come from that direction? That direction should have been safe…

“Instructor Han—” The driver pointed to the first cart’s cargo bed.

Han Shun lay unconscious among bloodied bandages. Angry red burns covered his exposed skin, and fresh wrappings circled his head and torso.

“Get the wounded through first.” Xiulan turned to the nearest guard. “Clear the eastern storage courtyard for triage.”

Missing for so long, only to appear from the wrong direction on the eve of battle. Everything about the situation raised questions she couldn’t yet answer.

Xiulan watched the wagons roll through the gates, wheels creaking against cobblestones. The injured soldiers swayed with each bump, their groans carrying across the street.

Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s silk sleeve and pressed close. “Miss...” Her nose twitched. “One of them smells like flowing qi.”

Xiulan’s muscles tensed. A cultivator spy had slipped in among the wounded—clever. Without Mei Chen’s supernatural senses, they might have succeeded in their infiltration. Such fortune to be at the right place when they arrived.

Xiulan turned to the nearest guard. “Take a message to the Treasure Pavilion for Ming Lihua.” She kept her voice low but clear. “A house sparrow has snuck in and looks to usurp the nest. Eastern storage courtyard.”

The guard snapped a crisp salute. “At once!”

“Let’s follow the wagons, Mei Chen.” Xiulan adjusted her stance to appear casual. “We wouldn’t want our guest to feel neglected.”

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen fell into step beside her.

They maintained a careful distance as the procession wound through Blackmere’s streets, the afternoon shadows providing perfect cover for trailing their target.

“Keep your senses sharp.” Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen. “Our enemy must not slip away.”

Almost as if they heard her, a dark shape burst from the wagon ahead, launching toward the nearest rooftop. Xiulan sprang into pursuit without hesitation, qi surging through her legs. The familiar weight of Severing Light bounced against her back as she bounded after the fleeing figure.

Ceramic tiles exploded beneath their feet, scattering fragments across the streets below. The spy darted across the rooftops toward Blackmere’s outer wall, maintaining a frustrating lead. Despite pushing her qi-enhanced muscles to their limit, she couldn’t catch up.

Mei Chen shot past in a blur of motion, running on all fours with predatory grace. Her wrathful spirit nature emerged in fluid, bestial movements as she closed the distance. The spy spun to face her final pounce, drawing a blade in a practiced arc.

Crystalline claws sprouted from Mei Chen’s fingers as she caught the weapon mid-swing. She vaulted over the spy’s head in a graceful flip, lashing out with an ice-armored leg. The spy’s sword plunged into the roof tiles, blocking the strike. Ice spread from Mei Chen’s shin armor, crawling along the blade. She kicked hard, sending the frozen weapon spinning away into the afternoon shadows.

“Take him alive!” Xiulan drew Severing Light. “We need answers!”

Mei Chen dropped into a feral crouch, frost crackling around her hands. A guttural hiss escaped through bared teeth as she stalked toward their prey.

Twin daggers flashed in the spy’s hands as he met Mei Chen’s assault. The crystalline claws sparked against steel as he blocked her relentless barrage, each swipe forcing him back another step across the rooftop.

Xiulan reached the fight and swept Severing Light at his head in a horizontal arc. The spy dropped low, the blade whistling overhead as he sidestepped to keep them in a line. Mei Chen pressed forward, her kicks connecting with devastating precision. Each impact left chunks of spreading ice across his arms and chest.

A deep, inhuman sound rumbled from Mei Chen’s throat. The temperature plummeted as moisture condensed from the air and swirling winds picked up loose snow in a spiraling vortex around them.

Xiulan stepped back, watching Mei Chen work. The spy’s daggers remained frozen to his hands, now encased in solid ice. Mei Chen struck with brutal efficiency, targeting his joints. A swift sweep took his legs out from under him.

The spy crashed onto his back. Ice crackled and grew around his body, forming a crystalline prison that left only his head exposed. Mei Chen settled onto his chest with predatory satisfaction, fog spreading into the air from where she perched.

“Well, looks like you handled it yourselves.”

Xiulan spun at Ming Lihua’s voice. The merchandiser stood atop the roof’s peak, purple robes rippling in the wind. How did she move so silently?

A sharp hiss of escaping air drew Xiulan’s attention. The spy expelled a cloud of sickly green mist directly at Mei Chen’s face. Crystalline claws flashed as Mei Chen slashed through the poison fog. The qi-infused vapor clung to her ice-formed weapons like magnets, staining them an eerie emerald green. She drove the contaminated claws into the tiles beside the spy’s head with enough force to crack the ceramic.

“We need to bind his qi abilities.” Xiulan kept her spear ready.

“Indeed.” Ming pulled a golden cord from her sleeve. The sight of the restraint sent a phantom ache through Xiulan’s wrists—identical to the bindings used during her arrest in Fershere.

“Mei Chen, come here.” Xiulan softened her tone. “You can relax now.”

Mei Chen bounded over with supernatural grace. “Did I do good, miss?”

“The best.” Xiulan squeezed her shoulder.

Ming struck the ice prison with her palm, shattering the crystalline structure into glittering shards. The spy attempted to roll away, but Ming’s second qi-enhanced strike caught him square in the chest. She flipped him onto his stomach, dazed, binding his wrists and ankles with practiced efficiency.

She hoisted him over her shoulder like a sack of grain.

“We need to question him about—”

A deep horn blast cut through the afternoon air from the western walls. Xiulan’s blood ran cold as she turned toward the sound.

Through the shimmer on the horizon, a dark line stretched across the plains, dust clouds rising in its wake.

The Chao army had arrived a day ahead of schedule.

Hostile Updraft

The simplest tactics often prove most effective. A single arrow, well-placed and well-timed, can disrupt an entire army's advance more effectively than a thousand arrows loosed in haste.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan expected chaos and immediate action—memories of siege warfare from Li Mei’s favorite historical films filled her mind with images of soldiers frantically scaling walls while arrows blackened the sky.

The reality proved far more mundane.

The Chao army crept forward across the plains like a dark serpent, then halted well beyond the range of the siege weapons. Soldiers milled about in organized formations, their weapons glinting in the late afternoon sun. The enemy began to set up a fortified camp.

Ming pressed a smooth crystal into Xiulan’s palm. The polished surface caught the light, refracting it in strange patterns.

“What’s this?”

“Look through it.” Ming pointed toward the distant army.

Xiulan raised the crystal to her eye. The world spun and blurred before snapping into sharp focus. The distant army jumped forward as if she stood mere yards away; each soldier’s face became clear enough to count their teeth.

The supply train stretched far beyond her initial estimates. Wagons loaded with provisions and ammunition rolled alongside siege equipment on wooden wheels. Trebuchets, mangonels, and battering rams advanced under the protection of skilled crews.

Ranks of archers and crossbowmen marched in formation, their weapons at the ready. Others carried wooden screens painted to match the terrain—mobile cover for their advance. The enemy matched every defensive preparation she had made, from ranged weapons to siege equipment.

They came prepared for a real fight, Xiulan thought as she lowered the crystal. The dizzying magnification left spots dancing in her vision.

Xiulan turned from the distant army to study Mei Chen’s alert posture before addressing Yang Mei and Wu Yan. “Yang Mei, monitor the northern flank. They might attempt to slip a large force around the city while we focus here.”

Yang Mei nodded, adjusting her dark hair tie.

“Wu Yan, take command of the three thousand reserve troops stationed there. Harass any attempt to bypass the city. If the western wall looks threatened, either sally out and hit them from behind or move across the wall to assist.”

“Understood.” Wu Yan gripped her sword hilt. Both women saluted before marching toward their positions.

Xiulan ran her hand along the wall’s stone surface. The fortifications stretched high above, built with thick stone around packed earth. Their defensive position and superior numbers should have brought comfort.

So why does my stomach twist into knots?

The array of siege equipment provided the answer. House Chao had brought enough weapons to threaten severe damage. Regardless, when the battle began, cultivator prowess would determine the outcome while mortal soldiers provided supporting fire and defense.

Xiulan studied the distant army through narrowed eyes. Without intelligence on their cultivator corps, she fought blind against an unknown force.

The silver medallion around Mei Chen’s throat caught the sunlight. No. There was no need to consider that desperate measure.

Xiulan gazed toward the eastern horizon. Somewhere out there, Feng Yu raced to bring reinforcements. But how far had she gotten? How long until help arrived?

Movement caught Xiulan’s attention along the distant enemy lines. A lone horseman emerged, bearing a white flag that snapped in the wind. The rider’s mount kicked up dust as it approached the city walls at a steady trot.

The messenger pulled his horse to a stop beneath their position. “Lord Chao demands the immediate surrender of Blackmere! Hand over the murderous daughter of Lord Lin and your people will be spared!”

Ming Lihua shifted closer. “Miss Lin?”

Xiulan stepped to the wall’s edge. “Return to your lands now and your army will survive this day!”

The messenger wheeled his horse around without another word, spurring it back toward the distant army.

“So.” Zhang Huo’s gruff voice broke the tense silence. “Does our pay begin now?”

“Not until actual combat starts.” Xiulan kept her eyes fixed on the retreating messenger.

Sparks danced around Zhang Huo’s weathered hands. “Is that right?” He unslung the massive bow from his shoulder.

“What are you—”

Heat radiated from the arrow as Zhang Huo nocked it, forcing everyone back. The bowstring thrummed and snapped, his fire-wreathed arrow streaking through the air far beyond normal bow range, racing toward the siege equipment.

A figure leaped skyward from the enemy lines. A massive arc of water materialized, extinguishing Zhang Huo’s arrow in a burst of steam.

Zhang Huo bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “Well then, I’d say combat has officially begun. Wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes locked onto Xiulan with clear challenge.

Xiulan turned to him with an icy stare. “Of course not.”

“What?” Zhang Huo’s muscles tensed beneath his battle-scarred armor. “Combat just started!”

Xiulan scoffed and strode toward him. Despite Zhang Huo towering over her, she lifted her chin and met his gaze with unwavering intensity. “Your little theatrics don’t count. You didn’t even hit the target.” She pulled a small silk purse from her robes. “If I wanted to hire a comedy troupe, it wouldn’t cost twenty spirit stones per day.”

Silver taels clinked between her fingers as she held them up to his face. One by one, she released them, each coin striking the stone floor with a sharp ping. “Twenty taels for my new jester.”

Heat radiated from Zhang Huo in waves, distorting the air around him as a deep growl rumbled from his chest.

Mei Chen answered with her own inhuman snarl from behind.

Zhang Huo stepped backward, his boots scraping against stone. He yanked his massive bow, twanging the string and then roared in rage. Instead of reaching for an arrow, flames erupted along the bowstring, spreading across the weapon until it blazed like a torch.

The gathered defenders scattered as the bow transformed into a mass of living fire. With a thunderous crack, the flame coalesced into a massive bolt that launched skyward.

The burning bolt arced through the sky, transforming into a blazing meteor. Three translucent barriers materialized in its path. The first shattered like glass, fragments of spiritual energy dissipating into the air. The second cracked but absorbed part of the flames before breaking apart. The third barrier caught at least half the fire yet still fractured under the assault.

A cultivator leaped skyward again, water streaming from outstretched hands. Instead of halting the attack, the water transformed into an explosive cloud of steam. The combined force smashed into the siege equipment below. Dust and vapor obscured the impact zone. When the cloud settled, three mangonels lay in splintered ruins.

Zhang Huo sagged against the battlements, sweat beading on his forehead. His chest heaved with labored breaths.

Out of breath? He should know how to cycle qi through breathing exercises by now. Xiulan studied the veteran archer’s poor stamina management with mild disappointment.

“That good enough for combat pay?” Zhang Huo wheezed.

A grin spread across Xiulan’s face. “Keep it up all day and you’ll earn every spirit stone.”

“New bow!” Zhang Huo bellowed. Guards scattered from their positions, rushing to fulfill his request.

“The strike succeeded because they weren’t prepared.” Ming stepped closer to Xiulan. “Their defensive formations will tighten now. Further attempts won’t break through without coordinated effort.”

“True.” Xiulan nodded toward Zhang Huo. “But he proved he has the range. Random attacks will keep their cultivators alert and waste their energy maintaining barriers.” She fixed Zhang with an appraising look. “Mix up your timing. Make them jump at shadows.”

Zhang Huo straightened and gave a firm nod.

Xiulan tracked Zhang Huo’s fiery assaults through Ming’s crystal throughout the rest of the evening. Each strike sparked chaos among the mortal enemy troops, sending them scrambling despite none of the follow-up attacks breaching their cultivator’s barriers.

The magnification revealed soldiers stumbling over each other at every fresh attack, officers shouting contradictory orders, and siege equipment left half-assembled as crews dove for cover. A waste of daylight they’d never recover.

The display served its purpose: keeping the enemy on edge and disrupting their siege preparations.

After confirming the pattern would hold, Xiulan passed the crystal to a senior guard. “Record any changes in their formations or responses.”

She arranged the cultivator watch schedule before leaving—three defenders at minimum would man the walls at all times, rotating in four-hour shifts.

The defensive talismans from the Treasure Pavilion now reinforced the main wall sections, one protecting each cardinal direction. The extra talismans she’d negotiated from Ming sat ready in reserve, enough to maintain the barrier for a week if needed.

As she and Mei Chen headed down off the wall, another of Zhang Huo’s arrows exploded against the enemy’s spiritual shields in a brilliant flash. The veteran archer had found his rhythm, spacing his attacks at irregular intervals to maximize disruption while conserving energy. Xiulan allowed herself a small smile at the effectiveness of such a simple tactic.

Xiulan strode through the central supply sector with Mei Chen at her side. Supply carts rumbled past on the cobblestones while civil defense officers directed streams of workers hauling crates and barrels. The scent of dried meat and grain filled the air.

Liu Bao snapped to attention and saluted as they approached. “Miss Lin.”

“Report on our stocks, captain.”

“Nine of the ten scheduled shipments arrived safely. We’ve secured enough provisions to feed Blackmere for a month at standard rations.” Liu Bao straightened his shoulders. “Two months if we implement rationing protocols. More if we restrict supplies to military personnel.”

“Standard rations will suffice.” Xiulan shook her head. “This engagement won’t stretch beyond a month.”

I’ll run out of spirit stones for the mercenaries long before we exhaust our food supplies.

The massive stone cistern caught her attention, its rim barely visible above the packed earth. Men utilized the pump to pour water out into pots to be used for fire fighting.

“What’s our water situation?”

“All five main cisterns stand full to capacity.” Liu Bao gestured toward the nearest water point. “We’ve topped off every minor reservoir and fire point in the city. One hundred fire-fighting wagons stand ready, each filled to the brim.”

Xiulan nodded at Liu Bao’s report. “The Chao forces won’t wait long. Tonight or tomorrow, they’ll strike, and fires will spread fast once those siege weapons start firing.” She crossed her arms. “Our array defenses can’t handle their artillery for long.”

Liu Bao’s face pinched, but he nodded in acceptance.

“Focus on fortifying positions that won’t crumble in the first volley,” Xiulan added.

Liu Bao frowned. “We’ve identified several reinforced sections for supply wagon storage. The distribution network spreads resources across multiple fallback points.” He rubbed his chin. “But against sustained artillery fire? There is no way to fully protect everything.”

“That’s what I feared.” Xiulan exhaled slowly. “Just optimize what you can. Make sure the civil service stands ready for tonight.” She met his eyes. “Getting through that first assault while maintaining organization—that’s our greatest challenge.”

“I’ll see to it at once.” Liu Bao turned toward a cluster of officers, already barking orders.

“Come on, Mei Chen.” Xiulan touched her companion’s shoulder. “We need to rest and check the new headquarters.”

They navigated through clusters of soldiers hauling fire-fighting equipment, the wooden wheels of their wagons creaking against cobblestones. Civil works teams rushed past with tools and supplies while platoons accepted weapons in formation nearby.

The Lin city manor’s new metal gate stood open, allowing a steady stream of officers and messengers through its reinforced frame. Inside the courtyard, military personnel crowded under makeshift tents sheltering planning tables covered in maps and dispatches.

A staff officer bowed. “Miss Lin.”

“Where are my quarters?” she asked.

“Right this way, miss.” He led them to a plain wooden building that bore signs of hasty construction—fresh-cut lumber and visible nail heads where ornamental covers should have been.

“My apologies for the simple accommodations.” The officer gestured to a sparse room. “Your belongings from the Treasure Pavilion haven’t arrived yet.”

“The room will suffice.” Xiulan stepped inside. A single bed occupied the otherwise empty space, its wooden frame unadorned except for a mattress and sheet.

“This is completely unacceptable!” Mei Chen stomped her foot, and the entire structure groaned in warning.

“I’ll check on the status of your possessions immediately.” The officer said in a hurry before backing out quickly with another bow.

Xiulan stretched her arms overhead. “We just need a few hours of rest before returning to preparations.”

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen’s shoulders slumped.

Xiulan sat on the bed’s edge, pulling back the simple blanket. She paused mid-motion as Mei Chen settled onto the hard floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mei Chen shifted on the floor. “I’ll sleep here to protect you, miss.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Xiulan patted the empty space beside her on the bed. “There’s plenty of room.”

A pink tinge spread across Mei Chen’s pale cheeks. “I shouldn’t... it wouldn’t be proper...”

“Oh, please.” Xiulan rolled her eyes. “You already snuck into my bed at the Treasure Pavilion.”

“That was—” Mei Chen stared at her feet, fidgeting with the hem of her robe. “That was different...”

“We’ve shared a bed countless times before.” Xiulan scooted closer to the wall, creating a wider space. She patted the mattress again with more emphasis.

“But things are... different now.” Mei Chen twisted the fabric between her fingers.

Xiulan kept her hand on the empty spot, waiting patiently. After several moments, Mei Chen crossed the room in small steps and slipped under the covers. Xiulan pulled the thin sheet over them both.

“Do I make it too cold?” Mei Chen whispered into the darkness.

Xiulan laughed softly. “You’re like an air conditioner permanently set to freezing.”

“A what?” Mei Chen turned her head on the pillow.

“Never mind that. I’m a hot sleeper, so it’s fine.” Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s cool form. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe, too.”

“Okay,” Mei Chen whispered, barely audible.

Xiulan closed her eyes, letting exhaustion pull her into sleep.

A few hours later, the building’s walls shuddered. Xiulan snapped awake as shouts and explosions thundered through the bamboo windows. The mattress shifted—Mei Chen had already slid toward the door with supernatural speed.

Xiulan rolled out of bed, muscles protesting the brief rest. Her robes clung awkwardly, wrinkled from sleeping in them. The wooden floor trembled beneath her feet as another impact rattled the building’s frame.

A few hours of sleep beats none at all. The thought offered little comfort as she grabbed Severing Light from its place against the wall. At least they hadn’t bothered changing clothes or taking baths—every second counted now.

“We need to reach the wall.” Xiulan secured her weapon harness. “The bombardment’s started.”

The dull orange glow through the window confirmed her fears—House Chao had launched their assault under cover of darkness.

Heavenly Tribulations

The heavens maintain order through divine law, enforced by immortal observers who watch from above. When those on the path to immortality violate these sacred boundaries, retribution comes swift and merciless. The tribulation serves as both warning and punishment—a reminder that even the mightiest must bow before heaven's mandate.
—Sage Master Wei Huang, Keeper of the First Flame

Flaming stones slammed against the talisman array protecting Blackmere’s western wall, sending white nets of energy rippling across the defensive barrier. A dozen stones bounced away harmlessly, but another six punched through the weakened ward and plummeted into the city below.

Xiulan clenched her teeth. The bastards aimed for the buildings inside rather than the walls themselves—a deliberate tactic to spread panic among the citizens. Smoke already billowed up through the city, visible against the pale glow of the defensive array.

She sprinted through the streets with Mei Chen close behind. A non-burning projectile crashed through a nearby building wall, sending debris scattering across their path. Up ahead, a fire-fighting wagon’s crew worked frantically to extinguish a small blaze, their silhouettes dancing in the firelight.

They rounded a corner onto the main avenue leading to the western gate. A cluster of civilians fled eastward: parents clutching children’s hands, elderly supported by younger relatives. A massive burning rock plummeted directly toward the fleeing family.

“Mei Chen!” Xiulan leapt upward, channeling qi through her meridians. She gathered yin energy in her left palm and yang in her right, sliding iron darts into each hand. With a practiced precision, she launched both projectiles.

Lightning crackled through the falling rock, shattering it into hundreds of smaller fragments. Mei Chen pressed her palms together and exhaled a long breath. A swirling vortex of icy wind materialized above the crowd, catching the burning pieces. The supernatural gust smothered their flames and guided them safely to the ground.

“It’s done, miss!”

Xiulan landed in a crouch on the cobblestones. “Everyone to the shelters! Move east, away from the gates!”

The gathered civilians snapped out of their stunned silence and rushed eastward as a squad of soldiers hustled past carrying clay water pots, their boots pounding against the stone street.

“This way.” Xiulan sprinted toward the western gate with Mei Chen matching her pace. They scaled the wall in three quick bounds, landing atop the battlements.

Two massive spiritual torches cast an eerie blue glow across the battlefield, illuminating the advancing Chao army. The enemy’s formations stretched into the darkness beyond the torchlight’s reach.

The siege engines creaked and groaned. Another volley of burning stones launched skyward, trailing smoke and flames as they arced toward the city.

Behind her, the defensive mangonels’ torsion mechanisms tightened and snapped forward. The throwing arms swung with explosive force, hurling their own barrage. The two volleys passed each other mid-flight—a deadly dance of fire and stone.

The enemy projectiles slammed into Blackmere’s array wards while their own crashed through the Chao army’s barriers. Purple and gold spiritual energy exploded across the night sky.

More burning stones punched through the city’s weakened barrier above, their flames casting wild shadows across the battlements. Xiulan shifted her stance and gathered qi into her arms, preparing to deflect the deadly projectiles from the soldiers around her.

A golden light erupted in front of them first. The massive ethereal form of a mountain materialized, its translucent surface rippling with earth-element qi. The flaming rocks bounced off the spiritual construct, tumbling harmlessly into the darkness beyond the wall.

“This is the mountain!” Wei Kang planted his feet wide on the stone battlements. Golden light pulsed through the ritual scars on his outstretched arms as he maintained the defensive technique.

Behind Xiulan, crossbowmen lined up along the wall. Their weapons clicked as bolts slid into place. Zhang Huo strode behind their ranks with a raised fist. Fire qi streamed from his palm, igniting each crossbow bolt until the entire line bristled with burning projectiles.

Through gaps in Wei Kang’s mountain barrier, Xiulan studied the enemy forces below. The Chao army spread out in practiced formations, soldiers advancing under the cover of wooden screens gleaming with protective talismans.

“Fire!” Zhang Huo’s command rang across the battlements.

Dozens of burning bolts launched simultaneously, tracing burning arcs through the night sky before plunging into the enemy ranks. Spiritual fire exploded outward on impact, turning the battlefield into a sea of golden flames.

Xiulan squinted through the smoke and was disappointed—minimal damage. The protective talismans flickered and held.

Enemy crossbowmen steadied their weapons behind their barriers. A wave of bolts whistled through the air toward Blackmere’s walls. The defensive ward sparked and crackled as it intercepted most projectiles, but hairline cracks spread across its white surface. Several bolts punched through.

“Down!” Xiulan dropped into a crouch.

A scream pierced the air to her left. A soldier clutched his shoulder where a bolt protruded, blood seeping between his fingers as he collapsed to the stones.

Zhang Huo bellowed another command. Blackmere’s crossbowmen launched a second volley, their burning projectiles painting streaks across the night sky. The impacts sparked larger explosions this time, spiritual fire catching wooden screens ablaze.

The enemy response came swiftly—another barrage of bolts accompanied by massive rocks from their siege engines. The talisman ward shattered with a sound like breaking glass, shards dissolving into mist.

Wei Kang roared. Ethereal mountains erupted from the stonework, deflecting the falling rocks. But the bolts ignored the defense, impacting the wall face below the battlements.

Xiulan leaned over the edge to assess the damage. “Shit.”

Where each bolt struck, twisted vines erupted from the stone. The unnatural growth writhed upward, a mass of creeping flora scaling the wall’s surface.

Sun Gai stepped beside Xiulan and struck his charm-laden staff against the stone battlements. The rhythmic impacts echoed through the night air as he chanted in ancient Taoist verse. Xiulan watched massive roots erupt from the earth before the wall, their wooden forms twisting upward before curving to strike the fortification halfway up its height.

Sharp spines erupted from Sun Gai’s controlled growth, forming a jagged belt across the wall’s surface. The defensive plants lashed downward with lethal force, shredding through the enemy’s creeping vines. Wood splintered against wood as the two supernatural growths clashed.

Xiulan looked up as the defensive mangonels released their payload with thunderous cracks. Instead of targeting the enemy siege engines, the stones arced lower toward the massed crossbowmen. Wooden screens splintered under the barrage. Hundreds of soldiers dispersed as their protective barriers shattered.

Almost on cue, Zhang Huo directed another volley from Blackmere’s crossbowmen. Burning bolts rained down on the disorganized troops, spreading further chaos through their ranks. Screams and shouts echoed across the battlefield as formations broke.

Xiulan tracked the casualties on both sides with cold calculation. Despite their successful counterattack, the broken talisman ward left Blackmere’s defenders increasingly vulnerable. Each exchange would exact a heavier toll on her forces.

These were just the opening acts, and they were already ferocious.

A figure among the enemy ranks raised a staff skyward. Golden light erupted around him, forming an intricate magical array in the air. The Chao siege engines fired simultaneously, their projectiles transforming into brilliant spheres of solid gold as they passed through the array’s pattern.

The orbs arced through the night sky, halting at their apex above Blackmere instead of crashing down. Each massive sphere pulsed with spiritual energy as they spread out before fracturing into hundreds of smaller orbs. The deadly rain of golden light illuminated the city below in an otherworldly glow.

Xiulan’s stomach clenched. The sheer number of projectiles would flatten entire districts. She gripped Severing Light tighter as the deadly spheres descended.

The orbs struck the Treasure Pavilion’s pagoda barrier first. White energy splintered like breaking ice across the dome’s surface, each impact sending ripples through the failing ward.

A blinding flash erupted from the pagoda’s peak. Lightning—pure white and crackling with raw power—exploded outward in a vast web. The electrical net engulfed every falling orb simultaneously. Golden spheres shattered like glass, their fragments dissolving into sparkles that rained harmlessly downward.

Xiulan squinted through the afterimage burned into her vision. A lone figure stood atop the pagoda tower, his robes whipping in the spiritual backlash.

“Master Qingfeng?” she whispered.

The night fell silent. No siege engines creaked. No soldiers shouted. Even the flames seemed to quiet their crackling.

Then lightning erupted from the pagoda’s peak again, a single golden bolt streaking across the battlefield. It struck the enemy cultivator who had launched the golden orb attack. The man’s barrier shattered in a shower of spiritual sparks as he was immolated instantly.

In a resounding response, thunder boomed overhead.

Dark clouds materialized from nowhere, writhing with blue energy. A massive bolt of tribulation lightning plummeted from the storm, smashing against a golden barrier that formed around the pagoda’s peak.

More strikes followed, relentless and devastating. Each impact sprayed sheets of golden sparks across the night sky. The magical display cast frantic shadows across the battlefield below.

Shouts erupted along the wall. Dozens of soldiers pointed toward the enemy lines with urgent cries.

Xiulan snapped her attention to the battlefield below. Through the raging fires that consumed the enemy’s wooden screens, twelve dark figures emerged. Their outlines twisted and blurred as they sprinted forward with inhuman speed. The spiritual pressure radiating from them confirmed her worst fear—enemy cultivators launching a direct assault.

Xiulan gripped Severing Light tightly and raised it overhead. “Defend the walls! All positions!” Her command carried across the battlements, echoing through the smoke-filled air.

“Crossbows!” Zhang Huo’s gruff voice boomed. “Staggered volleys!”

Lines of burning bolts streaked through the night in coordinated waves, golden explosions lighting the ground around the charging cultivators. The attackers twisted and spun between the blasts, their movements fluid and precise as they closed the distance. Not a single bolt found its mark despite the disciplined barrage.

Xiulan sprang onto the battlement’s edge, drawing her iron darts. Yin and yang qi flowed through her meridians and into the metal before she launched them in a practiced arc toward the advancing cultivators. Lightning crackled between the darts as they slid through the air, adding brilliant white flashes to the golden fire swirls from Zhang Huo’s arrows.

The display seemed almost insignificant beneath the massive tribulation storm above. More blue-white lightning hammered against the master’s barrier atop the pagoda with deafening force, the endless string of lightning strikes mixing with thunderous booms until the very air vibrated. The dissonance pressed against Xiulan’s ears as she readied another set of darts.

Sun Gai’s defensive branches erupted outward, the wooden spines and spikes detaching in an explosive burst. Wooden shrapnel filled the air like a blast from a hundred massive claymore mines.

The enemy cultivators spun and twisted through the barrage with supernatural grace. Their weapons flashed—sword, staff, and spear deflecting the wooden shards while protective qi fields shimmered around them. One cultivator failed to dodge completely. A wooden spike buried deep into his shoulder, but he yanked it free without breaking stride.

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen. Frost gathered around her ghostly claws as she crouched ready to spring, supernatural cold radiating from her altered form. A predatory focus burned in her glowing slate-blue eyes.

Ming Lihua appeared on the gate’s roof just above Xiulan’s head, her purple robes whipping in the spiritual backlash from the ongoing lightning storm.

“Time to fight.”

Xiulan scoffed. “Well, no shit.”

At least she didn’t need to worry about a lengthy siege anymore. The enemy seemed determined to end this quickly.

Spiritual Sunder

In desperate times, we discover that what we thought were limitations were merely guidelines. True power emerges when necessity breaks these self-imposed chains.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan stepped down from the crenellation. Mei Chen pressed close behind her, frost spreading beneath her feet across the stone. A deep, inhuman growl rumbled from her throat as she tracked the approaching cultivators.

“Easy.” Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s shoulder. The ghostly cold penetrated even through her spiritual robe.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the battlement as Wei Kang arrived, ritual scars pulsing with earth qi. Liu Shui glided beside him, her scholarly robes rippling with water energy. The Li twins materialized from the shadows, their matching green tunics making them near-identical in the darkness. Sun Gai hobbled forward, his charm-adorned staff clicking against the stone.

Ming Lihua’s purple robes caught the lightning flashes as she surveyed the assembled defenders. All eyes turned to her—at Foundation Forming, she had the highest cultivation among them.

“Listen carefully.” Ming’s voice cut through the thunder. “I’ll hold center position on the gate and engage whoever their center is.”

She pointed to Xiulan and Mei Chen. “You two form our front line.” She glanced at the others. “Liu Shui, Wei Kang, Sun Gai—support formation array behind them. Coordinate your elements.”

The Li twins straightened as she turned to them. “You two will act as a mobile unit. Go after anyone attempting to flank the group.”

The two men nodded.

“Zhang Huo.” Ming fixed the grizzled veteran with a stern look. “Coordinate archer support from the walls. You’re our last line to prevent infiltration into the city.”

Xiulan nodded, she couldn’t think of any better options. The formation leveraged their limited numbers effectively, though being at the front made her feel nervous.

Wind whipped at her robes as she leapt from the battlements. The impact sent vibrations through her body. Mei Chen landed beside her without a sound.

Above them, Ming’s talismans blazed to life. The papers spun around her, spiritual energy pulsing through the array like a heartbeat.

Xiulan took her position, Severing Light held ready with Mei Chen crouching at her side.

Behind them, the defensive formation took shape. Wei Kang planted his feet, earth qi flowing through his ritual scars. His power reached out to Liu Shui’s water techniques, compressing and directing her spiritual energy through carefully controlled pressure. The concentrated stream fed into Sun Gai’s wood element at the triangle’s apex, his staff glowing with amplified natural energy.

Blue-white bolts of qi streaked toward them through the darkness. A translucent barrier materialized inches from Xiulan’s face, dispersing the attack. Mei Chen darted forward, placing herself between Xiulan and the enemy cultivators. Looking back, Xiulan spotted Ming holding a crackling talisman aloft, her other hand tracing symbols in the air.

Flaming crossbow bolts from Zhang Huo’s position illuminated the night. In response, ethereal azure birds manifested from the enemy ranks, intercepting the arrows in a cascade of spiritual detonations.

“Ready your ice weapons,” Xiulan commanded.

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen’s inhuman growl carried the promise of violence as her fingers became claws.

An enemy cultivator glowing blue rose up into the air. Azure spheres of concentrated qi streaked from them toward Ming. She countered with crackling talismans, each impact releasing thunderous booms.

A second figure joined the first, cloaked in red and black. Blood-red mist snaked forward to breach Ming’s defenses, forcing her to leap backward as it corroded the stone where she stood. A gold pressure wave flung the red droplets away from the city.

Below, Sun Gai slammed his staff into the ground. Thick roots erupted from the earth, wrapping around the charging cultivators’ legs. A warrior wielding a flame spear burned through the entangling vegetation with sweeping arcs of fire while another spun a heavy wooden staff, crushing the growing tendrils.

Xiulan breathed deeply, drawing in opposing energies. Yin flowed cold and dark through her left side while yang blazed bright and hot through her right, each building until they threatened to tear her apart. She grabbed two iron darts from her belt, channeling the separated forces into each—positive into one, negative into the other.

“Thunder God Splits the Sky and Fucks You Up!” Xiulan hurled the positively charged dart high above the enemy formation. The negatively charged dart followed, striking the ground at their feet.

Metal spears burst from the earth around the enemy cultivators, forming a cage of steel. Lightning arced between the positive and negative focal points, using the metal as conductors. The enemy scattered from the cage after the discharge like startled birds through open bars, splitting into three groups.

Three of them charged directly at her and Mei Chen, weapons raised and qi flaring.

Another group moved to go around them. The flame spearman and heavy staff user angled directly for Sun Gai’s formation.

On the flank, two figures blurred through the shadows. One carried twin short swords that left trails of spiritual light, while the other seemed to melt between patches of darkness. The Li twins responded in perfect sync, green qi surging through their hands. Vines erupted, forcing their attackers into a deadly dance of blades and botanical barriers.

From his position on the wall, Zhang Huo directed volleys at a robed figure who conjured translucent azure beasts. Each spectral creature—bears, wolves, and tigers—intercepted arrows meant for the other enemy cultivators before dissipating into wisps of spiritual energy.

Frost crackled across Mei Chen’s skin as she thrust both hands forward. A wave of jagged ice erupted from the ground, rushing toward the three attackers aimed for her. Xiulan stepped up, channeling lightning through Severing Light as she stabbed it into the frozen barrier, sending blue electricity dancing across the crystalline surface.

As soon as the attack reached him, the enemy center spearman responded by plunging his own spear into the electrified ice. The weapon glowed with a blue pulse, and the frozen wall split like shattered glass, electricity dispersing harmlessly into the night air.

Xiulan cursed and adjusted her stance. Another spearman, and he had ice control to counter Mei Chen…

Metal screeched beneath her feet. Xiulan leapt backward as the metal spikes punched upward through the dirt, forming a deadly line that raced toward her position. Mei Chen bounded away in the opposite direction, her supernatural grace carrying her clear of danger.

A whisper of movement caught Xiulan’s attention. Moonlight glinted off a chain as it whipped through the air toward her, the curved sickle at its end spinning straight for her throat. Black robes marked another Whispering Shadows assassin emerging from the darkness.

Xiulan snapped Severing Light up to intercept, and the weapons connected with a metallic ring. She twisted her wrist, redirecting the chain’s momentum. The sickle spun harmlessly past her shoulder and dug into the earth.

A sharp yank on the chain forced her to dive sideways. The assassin whirled the weapon in tight circles, creating a deadly web of metal links that kept her dancing backward.

Each time she tried to close the distance to spear range, the chain snapped out in unpredictable patterns. Severing Light deflected the strikes, but the constant defensive maneuvers prevented her from mounting an effective counterattack.

Nearby, Mei Chen engaged the other two cultivators. The spearman jabbed and thrust with precise strikes, forcing her to stay beyond arm’s reach. Behind him, his partner manipulated streams of metallic qi that coalesced into deadly spikes. The projectiles pierced Mei Chen’s ghostly form, but her ice armor absorbed each impact in crystalline bursts.

“Damn it.” Xiulan ducked another chain sweep. The constant pressure left no opening to help Mei Chen.

She clapped her hands together. “Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters!”

A vortex of wind erupted between her palms. The assassin rolled beneath the attack, chain spinning to maintain momentum.

Xiulan repeated the technique but, this time, palmed two iron darts. Lightning crackled along the metal as she infused them with opposing charges before the projectiles disappeared into the wind vortex.

The assassin dodged again—but the electrically charged darts found his metal chain. Blue sparks raced along the links, his body convulsing as the current surged through him.

Xiulan lunged forward with Severing Light aimed at his throat, only to be halted as a sickly green cloud exploded in front of her face. The airborne poison burned her eyes and filled her lungs with each breath.

Almost immediately, a responding turquoise mist washed over Xiulan, clearing her fiery lungs. Liu Shui’s healing technique dispersed the poison cloud rapidly.

Through watering eyes, Xiulan saw the defensive triangle had broken apart, Sun Gai abandoning his root strategy against the flame spearman’s relentless attacks.

Instead, Wei Kang’s ritual scars blazed golden, mountain-shaped tattoos pulsing with earth qi. Each step slammed spiritual pressure into the ground, forcing the flame spearman to dodge and weave. Sun Gai spun his wooden staff in tight circles, matching the staff cultivator’s weapon strike for strike.

Xiulan lunged for the chain-wielding assassin as he staggered upright. Her fingers wrapped around the cold metal links. One sharp yank pulled him off balance.

Black orbs rolled from his sleeves. Xiulan’s eyes widened as spiritual energy surged within the spheres before the resulting explosion threw them both backward. Her shoulder slammed into the ground, skidding several feet across the stone.

A feral screech split the air. Mei Chen’s form arced overhead, frost trailing in her wake. She crashed onto the assassin like a predator claiming prey. Ice-covered claws ripped through flesh and cloth, blood spraying as she shredded him in a savage frenzy.

“Thanks—” Xiulan’s words died as she spotted the ice spearman materialize behind Mei Chen.

Thunder crackled overhead as Ming Lihua exchanged devastating blows with her two opponents. Their battle lit the night sky in strobes of crimson and gold.

The flashes illuminated a sight that froze Xiulan’s blood.

The ice spear protruded through Mei Chen’s chest, frost spreading across her body. Xiulan forced herself to her feet using Severing Light’s shaft and stumbled forward.

The spearman yanked his weapon free with a cruel twist. His next strike whistled through the air straight at Xiulan’s head. Mei Chen spun impossibly fast, catching the blade between frost-covered claws with an inhuman screech.

Xiulan pulled two iron darts, charging them with opposing qi. She launched them toward the spearman, but steel spikes intercepted the projectiles mid-flight. The metal manipulator leapt at her, twin steel poles whistling through the air.

His attack was thwarted as a massive azure tiger slammed into her side. Xiulan shoved her weapon’s shaft into its spiritual jaws, keeping razor-sharp fangs from her throat. Heat washed over her as a fire explosion lit up the night nearby. The beast’s spectral weight crushed down as the metal cultivator repositioned to swing two steel poles toward her head.

No time to think. Pure instinct drove her to slam her heels into the ground.

“Water Stepping Foot!”

The earth erupted beneath her, sending the steel user flying. Earth and stone sprayed outward from the impact and disintegrated the spirit beast.

She spun toward Mei Chen. The ice spear flashed in the thunderlight, opening Mei Chen’s throat and gliding down the front of her robes.

“No!” Xiulan screamed.

Qingfeng’s warning echoed through Xiulan’s mind as the golden medallion arced through the air and clattered to the ground.

She can’t remove it herself.

The ice spearman stepped back from Mei Chen’s form as it crumpled, pivoting toward Xiulan again.

Blue mist erupted from Mei Chen’s mouth and eyes like pressurized steam. The ethereal vapor coalesced into a spike that punched through the spearman’s back. His eyes widened as he stared at Xiulan, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Xiulan winced. Turning your back to the enemy twice in the same fight is a bad habit.

The blue mist expanded inside him with explosive force, rupturing flesh and bone outward in a violent spray.

Nearby, the steel user scrambled to his feet. A tendril of blue vapor shot out, wrapping around his torso. The mist lifted him skyward before slamming him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Steel qi swirled around him, forcing the vapor grip away, but more tendrils ensnared the makeshift armor. The mist hurled the steel cocoon in a massive arc that disappeared beyond the southern mountains.

Xiulan rushed to Mei Chen’s side. Deep gashes carved by the ice spear marred her body, but no blood flowed from the wounds. Something she had known, but not quite processed the entire time flashed—Mei Chen had been a corpse all along.

She pulled out a spirit stone, attempting the first aid technique Ren Chun taught her. The stone remained inert in her palm. Of course—healing couldn’t restore what was already dead.

The blue mist descended, enveloping Xiulan in its ethereal embrace. The vapor felt warm against her skin, not the biting cold she expected.

“Mei Chen?”

Xiulan. The thought resonated directly in her mind, clear as spoken words.

The mist spiraled around her body in a hypnotic dance. A glowing blue orb materialized beside her, hovering at shoulder height. Xiulan blinked at the luminescent sphere; Mei Chen’s core pulsed with gentle light.

Understanding washed over Xiulan as she stared. The physical form had merely housed Mei Chen’s true essence: this luminous spiritual core pulsing with energy.

She extended her palm and Mei Chen drifted down, settling against her skin with a warmth that radiated through her entire arm. It clung to her, sending waves of comfort through their connection.

Lightning split the sky above. Xiulan lifted her gaze to track Ming Lihua’s desperate battle. Golden talismans spun in diminishing circles around her—only half remained of her original array. Though Ming’s spiritual pressure still blazed strong, the blood cultivator and qi breaker pressed their advantage with increasing ferocity.

The Li twins stood locked in their standoff against the shadow walker and swordsman. All four cultivators showed signs of exhaustion—labored breathing, sluggish movements, depleted qi reserves.

Near the city wall, the support group had deteriorated. Wei Kang slumped against a broken section of stone, spiritual energy drained from overusing his golden mountain techniques. Liu Shui stood guard over him, launching crystalline water darts at the flame spearman, creating a rising steam cloud.

Sun Gai remained rooted in place, his wooden staff driven into the ground as thick roots wrestled with the enemy staff user’s root technique in an organic wrestling match.

Toxic green vapor rolled across the battlements. Zhang Huo’s flames cut swaths through the poison mist, preventing it from reaching the city proper. But spirit beasts scaled the walls unchecked—spectral claws and fangs tearing into the mortal defenders as they desperately sought to repel them.

Below the chaos, Xiulan spotted their summoner, who stood shoulder to shoulder with the poison master, both maintaining their techniques from a position of assumed safety.

Xiulan gripped Severing Light with both hands. The spectral orb of Mei Chen pulsed against her palm before flowing outward, wrapping the weapon in a corona of ethereal frost.

The Eye of the…

Physical forms are merely vessels for the spirit. In times of great need, the spirit may transcend its mortal shell, seeking new ways to protect what it holds dear.
—Sage Master Liu Yue, Walker of the Midnight Path

Xiulan charged across the battlefield toward the exposed spirit beast summoner and poison master, her boots pounding against the sundered earth.

Both cultivators snapped their attention toward her before she crossed half the space between them.

The poison master’s hands wove through the air. A noxious green cloud expanded outward, filling the space between them. The beast summoner’s fingers twisted into claws, manifesting ghostly swine that bounded into the venomous fog. The ethereal beasts absorbed the deadly miasma before exhaling it in focused jets of lethal vapor in Xiulan’s direction.

She was ready for something like that.

Severing Light blazed with Mei Chen’s ethereal frost as Xiulan swept the weapon in a wide arc. The blade carved through the air, trailing ribbons of yin and water qi that coalesced into a massive crescent. The pressurized energy wave slammed into the poisonous cloud, dispersing it backward—the spirit beasts dissolved on contact, their essence scattered by the overwhelming force.

The crescent continued its path, crashing into both cultivators. The impact launched them toward the city wall with bone-jarring force. Before they could recover, flaming arrows rained from above in deadly streams. The two cultivators scrambled to flee from the onslaught, abandoning their position.

Xiulan lunged forward to pursue the fleeing cultivators, but a sickening hiss filled the air above her head. Droplets of burning crimson liquid rained down, each drop sizzling with corrosive poison.

Xiulan, be careful!

Blue-tinged mist materialized above her, spreading into a protective dome. The acidic blood droplets crystallized mid-air, suspended in the ethereal barrier Mei Chen created. The nauseating stench of toxic qi burned Xiulan’s nose.

Above the battlefield, Ming Lihua advanced on her opponents. Her fingers danced through the air, scattering paper talismans that spun into intricate geometric patterns. The arrays pulsed with power, launching volleys of multicolored energy bolts at the blood qi user and his companion.

Rather than continue their clash, the enemy cultivators dove toward their allies below, extracting their two compatriots from their deadlock with the Li brothers before retreating across the battlefield.

Xiulan’s breath came in heavy pants as she watched the enemy forces fall back. The distinctive whistle of siege weapons drew her attention skyward, where a barrage of flaming projectiles arced through the air toward Blackmere’s walls.

She blinked in surprise—the artillery assault had continued unnoticed throughout. The tribulation storm above the Treasure Pavilion’s pagoda had dissipated at some point during the chaos.

A sharp pain lanced through her left side. She pressed her hand against the throbbing wound where the explosive bombs had thrown her away from the assassin. Blood seeped between her fingers.

Xiulan limped back to Mei Chen’s motionless form. The weight of her friend’s body settled across her shoulders as she lifted her. Each step sent fresh waves of pain through her injured side while she rejoined the other defenders.

Hundreds of city soldiers lay scattered across the wall, their bodies broken and bloodied by the spirit beast attack. The cultivator defenders remained standing, but exhaustion etched deep lines in their faces. Wei Kang nursed a bleeding arm while Liu Shui pressed a cloth against a gash on his forehead; even Zhang Huo’s usual energetic demeanor had dimmed to weary alertness.

Ming Lihua stood atop the gate, her purple robes whipping in the wind as she scanned the battlefield.

“I’m so sorry about Mei Chen.” Wei Kang bowed his head. “She fought bravely.”

The other defenders murmured similar condolences until ethereal blue mist streamed from Severing Light. The essence spiraled up Xiulan’s arm like a serpent, coalescing into a glowing orb that slid along her neck before finally settling atop Xiulan’s head like a crown.

I’m not dead! Mei Chen’s thoughts echoed out into the night air.

The gathered cultivators stared wide-eyed at the manifested spirit. Their weapons raised then dropped as confusion reigned.

“The low level spirit cultivator transcended mortality?” Liu Shui asked.

“Her body entered suspended animation and requires repairs.” Xiulan maintained a steady tone despite the absurdity. “Her spirit separated temporarily during the process.”

The defenders exchanged uncertain glances but nodded slowly, accepting the explanation despite their obvious bewilderment.

Xiulan suppressed a smile. The truth about Mei Chen—a protective wrathful spirit with an adorable personality—seemed far more difficult to explain.

Flaming projectiles continued to arc through the smoke-filled sky, but their frequency diminished with each volley. The impacts against Blackmere’s streets grew sporadic as exhaustion set in on both sides. Through the haze, Xiulan watched the enemy front line withdraw beyond the light of the burning line of wooden screens.

Xiulan pressed her hand against her side and exhaled. The night’s chaos had blurred together—how long had they fought? An hour? Two? The passage of time had lost meaning.

Wei Kang distributed spirit stones among the defending cultivators, the crystalline fragments pulsing with stored qi as each defender activated whatever healing techniques they had. Mortal medical teams darted between injured soldiers, administering healing pills to those who survived the battle.

Xiulan retrieved one of Jin Wei’s pills from her robe and swallowed it. Cool relief spread through her wounded side as the medicine took effect. She clutched a spirit stone in her palm, channeling its stored energy to accelerate her recovery.

Mei Chen swirled in response, merging with the healing qi. The combined energies knit flesh and cleared blood stains, leaving only torn fabric as evidence of injury.

Miss, you need clean robes.

“You need stitches and a new robe entirely...” Xiulan stared at Mei Chen’s physical form slumped against the wall. Worry gnawed at her thoughts. Would it be possible to restore Mei Chen’s spirit to her body?

Ming Lihua descended from her position atop the gate, her purple robes rippling in the smoke-laden breeze. She studied the ethereal orb circling Xiulan’s head with narrowed eyes.

“The safety seal didn’t even last a week.” Ming shook her head. “Master Qingfeng won’t be pleased.”

Xiulan frowned at the senior merchandiser. “She faced violent combat without reacting wrathfully. That counts for something.”

“Her qi density exceeds anyone else in the city right now.” Ming’s fingers traced patterns in the air. “But if that energy drains, she’ll lose control and turn violent.”

The glowing sphere rolled playfully along Xiulan’s head. Ming reached out and poked her fingers into the ethereal mass.

Oh! Mei Chen’s surprised thoughts echoed. The orb tumbled down Ming’s arm in a spiral before bouncing off and returning to orbit around Xiulan.

Ming exhaled sharply. “I don’t think anyone truly understands what Mei Chen is.”

“What about her physical form?” Xiulan glanced at the motionless body propped against the wall.

“The corpse remains sterile without decay.” Ming studied the preserved flesh. “She must have unconsciously done something to maintain it.”

I can’t comb Miss Xiulan’s hair like this. Mei Chen’s thoughts carried a distinct pout. I need it.

“Can you repair the damage and return to your body?” Xiulan watched the ethereal orb bob in the air.

Mei Chen drifted downward, hovering over her corpse before streaming through her own parted lips. Color flooded back into Mei Chen’s pale skin, transforming from powder white to simply deathly pale. Her eyes snapped open, reflecting an unnatural slate-blue glow in the darkness.

Mei Chen clutched at her throat where the spearman’s blade had carved through flesh and bone, her fingers trembling against the wound as she pressed her torn chest. “Miss... it hurts... it hurts a lot...”

Each labored breath sent fresh spasms of pain across Mei Chen’s face. The wounds pulsed with a sickly red light where corrupted qi lingered in the damaged tissue.

Ming Lihua knelt beside Mei Chen and pressed her palm against the gaping neck wound. Purple light flared beneath her fingers as she channeled qi into the injury.

Mei Chen’s eyes rolled back and she slumped unconscious against the wall.

“What!” Xiulan lurched forward.

“Calm down.” Ming maintained steady pressure on the wound. “She’s just unconscious—or rather, her body is. Actually, I’m not certain of the distinction anymore.”

Ming frowned at the unconscious girl. “But we must do something to help or she won’t be able to remain in this form. And if she can’t maintain a physical anchor...” Her expression darkened. “Her spiritual energy will likely burn out without something to tether it.”

Xiulan stared at Mei Chen’s unconscious form. Beast pets could cultivate and be sapient, but Mei Che was not one of those, either! Sure, there were spirit weapons and sentient artifacts at the highest levels of cultivation, but wrathful spirits? How were those related at all?

They existed purely as enemies to defeat for cultivation points and reputation gains. Her thoughts scattered as boots pounded against stone.

The game had never prepared her for this.

A messenger sprinted toward them, chest heaving with exertion. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead as he skidded to a stop.

“Report!” The messenger doubled over, gasping for breath. “Enemy force… broke through the north! Fairy Yang Mei took severe injuries!”

“Damn it.” Xiulan clenched her fists. The enemy had outmaneuvered them while they focused on the frontal assault. “Numbers?”

“Ten, maybe twelve cultivators.” The messenger straightened. “Plus a thousand troops. Wu Yan and Yang Mei eliminated the soldiers, but the cultivators pushed through.”

Xiulan turned toward the enemy siege line stretching across the horizon. Flames still dotted the battlefield where their earlier clashes had scorched the earth. Now she and the other defenders stood trapped here, preparing for another wave of attacks. How many more cultivators did House Chao hold in reserve? The uncertainty gnawed at her thoughts as she calculated their dwindling options.

Something didn’t add up. If they’d committed another ten cultivators to the frontal assault, her defenders would have crumbled. Instead, the enemy had divided their strength to attack the Lin estate.

The realization hit her like ice water. The estate housed every official document and record that legitimized control over Blackmere County. Whoever held those papers would be able to forge legal authority. Lord Chao didn’t want her dead as much as he wanted control.

Then… was he expecting more forces to show up and grant him legitimacy?

Had she and her mother expected House Min to help them, when they might side with Lord Chao? Were family ties not enough?

They weren’t enough to stop me from killing Father and my sisters.

Smoke billowed up from burning buildings throughout the city, the acrid scent stinging her nose as shouts echoed from the northern quarter. If they went after the flanking force, the city would be naked—protecting it was a duty she couldn’t just abandon.

Her gaze dropped to Mei Chen’s unconscious form. If Ming was right, by fighting, Mei was burning away not just her qi but her life force, too. Life force that couldn’t be restored without an anchor. If Mei Chen burned out completely trying to protect her...

Ming helped Xiulan stand, steadying her with a firm grip. Xiulan scooped up Mei Chen’s limp form, adjusting the weight in her arms. The girl’s skin felt cold—too cold for comfort. They hurried through Blackmere’s smoke-filled streets toward the Treasure Pavilion’s familiar gates.

Brother Mo and Long blocked their path at the entrance, weapons crossed. The polished metal of their spears gleamed in the torchlight.

“Master Qingfeng ordered no entry.” Long planted his feet. “For anyone.”

Mo bowed slightly to Ming. “That includes you, senior. He specifically mentioned reminding you about—” Mo cleared his throat “—the thin line you chose to walk.”

Xiulan studied Ming’s face. The senior appraiser’s neutral expression cracked for a moment, revealing something deeper. So helping them hadn’t been Qingfeng’s order at all—Ming had chosen this path herself.

“We’ll use the headquarters.” Ming gestured down a side street. “I can treat her there with whatever supplies we gather.”

A sharp cough drew their attention. Brother Long thrust a cloth bag into Ming’s hands, turning his head to stare fixedly at the wall. “Found these rolling around. Trash, obviously. Need disposing of.”

“Hah...” Xiulan’s lips curved upward. “I wonder if some person’s trash might be another’s treasure. Who could have such foresight?”

Xiulan shifted Mei Chen’s weight as she followed Ming. Chunks of stone and splintered wood littered the cobblestones in their path. The air reeked of smoke and ash, but the screams had subsided to sporadic shouts from fire crews.

Teams of citizens hauled water buckets in organized lines, dousing flames that still licked at damaged buildings. Others dug through debris, calling out whenever they found survivors. The preparations had paid off—most civilians had evacuated to the shelters of sturdy buildings on the city’s eastern side before the assault began.

A group of soldiers cleared fallen timbers from a major intersection, their faces determined despite being streaked with soot. Nearby, medics tended to the wounded in a makeshift aid station. The injuries looked painful but survivable.

Ming led them through the winding streets toward the military headquarters. The former city manor’s walls bore scorch marks, but the new structure remained intact. Two guards saluted as they approached the entrance.

Xiulan followed the path to her quarters, each step jostling Mei Chen’s limp form. The room had improved in the short time they had been away. Her personal effects from the Treasure Pavilion filled the space: scrolls stacked neatly on the desk, spare robes hung in a wardrobe, and her dressing table from the guest room was laid out properly.

Really? The officer had kept his promise despite the chaos. That was dutiful, but also…

Didn’t he have better things to do while the city was being set alight?

Still, she couldn’t complain. She set Mei Chen down gently on the bed while Ming emptied Brother Long’s cloth bag onto the desk.

Bandages, spirit-infused needles, brown pills, and healing salves tumbled out—standard cultivator medical supplies. Ming sorted through them with steady fingers. The needles and some silver thread were the first choice.

Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s hand. The girl’s skin felt like ice beneath her touch. The savage wounds across her throat and chest gaped open, edges ragged where the enemy’s blade had torn through. The dead flesh didn’t ooze or bleed at all, and it gave the unsettling feeling of handling raw meat…

Ming Lihua threaded the spirit-infused needle. The metal gleamed with an otherworldly sheen as she began stitching the wounds closed, each precise movement drawing the torn flesh together.

Ming pulled a weathered paper talisman and a spirit stone from her sleeve. Ancient characters covered its surface in precise brushstrokes that seemed to shift and dance in the lamplight.

Was she able to make the spirit stone heal the body? Xiulan’s eyes narrowed. Her earlier attempt had failed; if Ming made it work now, learning the technique would be essential.

“What kind of talisman is that?” Xiulan leaned closer to study it.

“Object repair charm.” Ming pressed the talisman against Mei Chen’s chest. “Used for mending damaged items.”

“Object repair...” Xiulan stared at Mei Chen’s corpse. The implications clicked into place with grim clarity.

Ming frowned, then clapped her hands and massaged Mei's chest and throat until a glowing orb emerged.

Mei Chen.

Xiulan! The thought rang out brightly, and the orb flowed past Ming to spin around Xiulan's head.

"Repair won't work while she's in there, so just keep her close for a few minutes," Ming said.

Xiulan reached out, and Mei settled into her palms, pulsing with warmth and acceptance. It made a gruesome sort of sense. Mei Chen’s body was a thing, now merely an object to store her spiritual essence.

The spirit stone in Ming's hand dimmed as the energy flowed into the talisman and then Mei Chen’s body.

Storm

The exchange of spiritual energy between cultivators is as intimate as the sharing of secrets between lovers. It requires absolute trust, for in that moment, two souls touch across the void that separates all beings.
—Sage Master Liu Yue, Walker of the Midnight Path

The third day of the siege brought relentless attacks, each impact sending tremors through the city’s ancient stones. Everyone had to work in synchronized shifts, each group using whatever method they had to deflect or block as much damage as possible.

Not all efforts were successful. Xiulan found her own techniques weren’t well suited to mass projectile stopping without using copious amounts of qi, so she ended up in a support role.

Between attacks, she rushed to check on Mei Chen. The sight of her companion sitting up in bed by the end of the day sent waves of relief through her tired brain.

Dark clouds of smoke stained the sunset crimson. The fires still burned, but fewer than before. The defenders found their rhythm before they were buried.

The fourth day settled into a grinding pattern of artillery exchanges. Zhang Huo’s precise shots prevented the enemy from resting. Every so often, he would score a critical hit, and an enemy engine would explode. Every time that happened, it sparked cheers from the tired defenders.

“Master Qingfeng lives.” Brother Long reported. “The lightning left its mark, but he endures.”

Xiulan spotted Yang Mei limping toward the Treasure Pavilion’s entrance. The sight of the empty space below her left knee twisted something in her chest. She rushed forward to support the earth scout.

“Miss Lin.” Yang Mei attempted a formal bow but stumbled.

“Don’t.” Xiulan steadied her. “You’ve done more than enough.”

The pouch of spirit stones felt heavy in her hands as she pressed them into Yang Mei’s palm. “I’m sorry. This doesn’t begin to cover what you sacrificed.”

“My earth sense still works.” Yang Mei grinned through obvious pain. “This is just a temporary setback.”

Two Treasure Pavilion servants emerged to escort Yang Mei inside for more extensive treatment. She’d remain inside the “neutral” compound for the rest of the siege, even if she managed to recuperate.

The earth scout’s optimism struck deeper than any arrow could.

On the northern wall, Xiulan stared at the empty roads leading to the Lin city manor. No scouts had returned—not a single message had made it through. The silence gnawed.

Feng Yu, wherever you are, please hurry.

She gripped Severing Light tighter, thoughts drifting to those she left behind. Ren Chun, keep them safe, no matter how much you might think what I did wrong. Keep my brother and mother alive.

Later that night, Xiulan hunched over the writing desk in her room, squinting at yet another failed talisman.

The complex object repair script from Ming’s example sprawled across dozens of practice sheets, each stroke demanding perfect precision. She crumpled another botched attempt and added it to the growing pile.

The brush trembled against the paper as she traced the intricate patterns for the hundredth time. Ink splattered where it shouldn’t, refusing to obey her will. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she reached for a fresh sheet.

Mei Chen bustled around the room, humming an off-key tune while adjusting already-straight blankets and reorganizing their meager possessions.

She picked up Xiulan’s travel pack, moved it three inches to the left, then back to its original spot. Next, she targeted the incense holder.

“It’s perfectly fine where it is,” Xiulan said without looking up from her work.

Mei Chen ignored the comment and shifted the holder anyway.

Xiulan rolled her eyes at the restless reorganizing and set down her brush. The failed talisman attempts could wait.

“We should practice cultivating together.”

Mei Chen blinked rapidly. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I helped clear your core?”

Mei Chen nodded but turned away, a rosy flush creeping across her pale cheeks. “Feng Yu told me that... that...” She fidgeted with her sleeve. “That sort of thing has... connotations.”

“Ugh, she said the same thing to me!” Xiulan threw up her hands. “But really, I need to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“You were completely out of your body. What if you lost some power? Or your yin energy got unbalanced again?” Xiulan smoothed her robes.

“I think I’m okay...” Mei Chen twisted the fabric of her sleeve. She looked away, refusing to meet Xiulan’s eyes. “But if you want to try, we can.”

Xiulan nodded and retrieved two meditation cloths from a chest, laying them carefully on the wooden floor. The familiar patterns of clouds and mountains adorned the white fabric.

She settled onto one of the meditation cloths, crossing her legs into a lotus position. Mei Chen mirrored her movements on the other cloth, though a bright pink flush spread across her pale features.

“Oh, come on.” Xiulan adjusted her robes.

“It’s just...” Mei Chen stared at the floor. “You have more experience than me... please treat me gently.”

Xiulan dropped her face into her palm. “I won’t be able to keep a straight face if you keep saying things like that.”

“I’m sorry!” Mei Chen squeaked.

Xiulan straightened her posture on the meditation cloth. “We’re just going to cultivate and exchange qi. I need to check your meridians and practice some qi threading techniques.”

She adjusted her sleeves with a casual shrug. “It’s not like we’re going to have sex or anything.”

Mei Chen wobbled sideways, barely catching herself before toppling over. “S-s-s...” Her face blazed crimson as she stammered. “Se-sex! That’s—that’s improper, Miss Lin! That’s not something ladies c-can... can do!”

“What do you mean?” Xiulan tilted her head. “It happens all the time.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t mentioned or broadcast out in the open in the world of Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, but Li Mei knew better than to think it never happened at all. It was just human nature, and she had seen a lot of dodgy erotic roleplay happen in certain areas of the game that had earned “that” reputation.

Mei Chen’s mouth opened and closed, incoherent squeaks escaping as she flailed her hands in front of her face. The poor girl looked ready to combust from embarrassment.

Xiulan closed her eyes and focused on breathing, settling into a meditative rhythm. The familiar sensation of qi flowing through her meridians helped tune out Mei Chen’s continued sputtering. She’d let her friend recover her composure in her own time.

After several minutes of blessed silence, Mei Chen cleared her throat softly. “Maybe... maybe we should sit back to back instead?”

“If that makes you more comfortable.” Xiulan smoothed her expression.

Mei Chen nodded quickly and turned around. Xiulan scooted backward until their shoulders pressed together. The familiar chill of Mei Chen’s spiritual energy tingled against her skin through their robes.

What am I even looking for? Xiulan wondered, but the need to verify Mei Chen’s wellbeing pushed her forward. She reached back and found Mei Chen’s cool fingers, gently clasping them in her warm ones.

“I’ll start now,” Xiulan said.

“Okay.” Mei Chen squeezed her hands in response.

Xiulan gathered her qi and threaded it carefully through her meridians, extending a delicate tendril toward Mei Chen’s palm meridian. The moment her qi touched Mei Chen’s skin, the energy whipped through Mei Chen’s entire system in a dizzying rush—far faster than Xiulan could track.

The qi thread snapped back through Mei Chen’s other palm. Xiulan barely caught it, steadying her breath against the sudden return. She guided it back through her own system at what felt like a snail’s pace, though she pushed herself to move as quickly as possible. The energy settled into her dantian, creating a circular flow between them.

Their combined qi accelerated, rushing through both dantians in an endless loop. Xiulan tried to map Mei Chen’s meridians but found herself baffled. The spiritual pathways seemed to float untethered except for the flow that had formed between them.

I really should study more cultivation texts. There was a severe gap in her theoretical knowledge.

At least nothing seemed wrong. While Mei Chen’s qi remained heavily yin-aligned, enough yang energy swirled in her core to maintain a flowing balance and prevent another frozen spiritual crisis.

Xiulan exhaled slowly. Her breath crystallized in the air between them.

“You’re like summer.” Mei Chen’s whisper carried a note of wonder.

“And you’re winter incarnate.” Xiulan chuckled softly.

Through their connected qi, concern radiated from Mei Chen—worry that her cold nature might harm. Xiulan focused on wrapping Mei Chen in warmth, like a protective embrace.

Mei Chen relaxed against her back, pure contentment flowing through their bond. The feeling spread through Xiulan as well, settling deep in her chest.

They drifted together in meditation, yang and yin energy exchanged between them in gentle waves. The peaceful sensation reminded Xiulan of floating in a calm pool—minus the chemical smell—suspended between sky and earth.

A thunderous boom shattered their peaceful meditation. The building shuddered beneath them as more explosions rocked the city.

“We need to move.” Xiulan sprang to her feet, breaking their qi connection. The lingering warmth of their cultivation session surged through her meridians—her body thrummed with more energy than she’d felt since before the siege began.

Mei Chen snatched up their medical supplies while Xiulan grabbed Severing Light. The familiar weight settled onto her shoulder as they burst out the door.

Flames painted the midnight sky in violent oranges and reds as burning projectiles arced overhead like deadly meteors. The constant impacts created a hellish percussion that drowned out screams and shouts from the defenders.

“Where are Sun Gai and Liu Shui? They should be maintaining the defensive arrays!” Xiulan scanned the chaos.

Tiles cracked and scattered under their feet as they sprinted across the rooftops toward the western wall. The acrid stench of smoke burned Xiulan’s lungs with each breath.

A blur of purple robes caught her attention—Ming Lihua bounded between buildings, outpacing them toward the city gate. The senior appraiser’s speed spoke volumes about the situation.

Blue spirit beasts slammed against the forming talisman barrier over the western wall. The translucent shield crackled with failing energy before shattering into sparks of dissipating qi.

“Fuck.” Xiulan gripped Severing Light tighter. Enemy cultivators had already reached the wall—far sooner than expected.

Zhang Huo's commanding voice rang out through the chaos of falling debris and scattered energy. The commander directed his crossbowmen with precise gestures, their formation shifting to meet the new threat.

Xiulan launched herself onto the wall beside Mei Chen. The height gave her a clear view of the approaching army—and the cultivators leading the charge.

She tracked their advance. They moved with supernatural speed across the field, leaving their mortal troops scrambling to keep pace behind them.

Ming Lihua stood atop the main gate. A hundred talismans floated around her in a series of arrays, each paper glowing with stored power. Energy lances erupted from the formation toward the enemy.

A massive metal sheet burst from the earth, providing cover. Green-tinged mist seeped around the makeshift shield, creeping toward the walls with lethal intent.

“Mei Chen!”

“Yes, miss!” Mei Chen darted to the wall’s edge. She drew in a deep breath, chest expanding, then exhaled a torrent of freezing wind. The blizzard tore across the battlefield, pushing the poison fog back toward the enemy’s mortal lines.

Frost crystallized across the ground, transforming the muddy field into a frozen wasteland. The poison master dismissed their technique rather than risk their own forces falling to the redirected toxins.

Xiulan studied the metal shield deflecting Ming Lihua’s energy bolts. The defense proved effective, but a plan crystallized in her mind. Four iron darts slid smoothly into her palms.

Qi flowed through her meridians as she channeled opposing energies into each pair; yang energy crackled with positive charge in her right hand while yin energy pooled like ice in her left. The darts vibrated against her skin, straining to contain the volatile forces.

She released them simultaneously—yang-charged darts soaring upward, yin-charged darts plummeting downward. No need to announce the technique. They had seen it before…

Just not doubled in capacity!

Lightning erupted between the darts, thick as her torso. Electricity connected heaven and earth through the metal shield. Thunder boomed, rattling her teeth and sending a wave of pressure through her chest.

“And fucks you up!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes, pumping both fists into the air.

A startled laugh caught in Xiulan’s throat.

A smoking figure stumbled from behind the ruined shield, electricity still arcing across their twitching form.

Six more cultivators leapt through the dissipating energy. Ming’s bolts slammed into their ranks, but they pressed forward. Blood-red spears materialized alongside wooden darts and razor-sharp metal shards while spheres of concentrated qi blazed toward the walls like angry stars.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the stone as Wei Kang sprinted along the wall. “The mountain! The mountain!”

Ming Lihua ceased her barrage. Golden light blazed from her hands as she traced intricate patterns in the air. Qi surged through ancient formations, and a translucent barrier materialized above the gate—its surface rippling like molten gold.

Wei Kang’s tattoos blazed, and behind the spiritual gate rose towering stone; the two formations sparkled in gold relief, merging into a gate atop a mountain. The entire defensive barrier widened until it covered the western wall.

A second later, the barrier absorbed hundreds of incoming projectiles, dropping them harmlessly to the ground in a scattered rain.

Xiulan’s muscles tensed as another wave of cultivators emerged from behind the ruined metal shield. These weren’t the same attackers from before—every face unfamiliar, every qi signature unknown. Somehow they’d shadowed the other’s while being invisible… or cloaked in shadow?

Fresh reinforcements meant the enemy had been holding back. And they had sent others to the estate?

Xiulan grit her teeth. They had been badly outnumbered from the start.

A massive crane materialized before the new arrivals, its spiritual form blazing with ethereal blue light. The cultivators leapt onto its back, and the beast launched skyward toward the walls.

Xiulan pointed toward the incoming threat. “Mei Chen!”

Arctic wind howled as Mei Chen unleashed her frozen breath again. The spiritual crane banked and rolled, its ghostly form twisting through the ice storm.

Xiulan gathered qi, and her Thunder God Clap technique erupted from her hands, sending a spiraling vortex of wind toward the aerial attackers. The crane dissipated into motes of blue light, but its riders used the momentum to propel themselves forward.

They sailed through the air in perfect formation, their robes whipping in the wind as they descended toward the battlements.

Xiulan drew Severing Light from her shoulder, its blade gleaming in the firelight. Beside her, Mei Chen’s claws extended with a frosted whisper. Li Ren and Li Jan materialized beside them, their short swords ready.

The enemy landed as a group, a blast of qi knocking the nearby mortal soldiers into the air or crushing them into the stone. Both groups of cultivators faced each other and stared for a second.

Multiple explosions rocked Ming Lihua and Wei Kang’s mountain gate barrier, sending spiritual shockwaves across the battlements.

That served as the signal to fight.

The enemy cultivators launched forward in unison.

Mei Chen sprang into action with inhuman speed, frost trailing in her wake. The Li brothers matched her pace, their footwork precise and measured. Xiulan positioned herself behind Mei Chen, extending Severing Light to maximize its reach.

Stones blazed through the air like meteors straight at Mei Chen. Green vines whipped outward from the Li brothers’ hands, snatching the projectiles mid-flight and smashing them against the ground. More vines lashed toward the attackers.

An enemy cultivator wielding metal fans stepped forward. His weapons spun, qi crackling along their edges as they shredded through the brothers’ vines. Plant matter scattered like confetti in the wind.

Zhang Huo appeared suddenly, jumping to the front. His thunderous clap split the air and heat rolled outward in a suffocating wave as he extended his palms. The metal fans turned cherry-red, the blades warping and dissolving under the intense temperature.

A short, round figure emerged from the enemy ranks. His staff traced intricate patterns, summoning a barrier of water that neutralized Zhang Huo’s inferno. Steam hissed where the opposing forces met.

Mei Chen raged and raised her hands, forming the steam into ice shards perfectly poised to impale the enemy.

Sand erupted from the stone wall as bricks disintegrated; the resulting dust swirled around the shards, shredding them before binding and turning into a slop of mud that flowed toward Xiulan’s group.

Before it could reach them, grass began to sprout from it, solidifying the mass into a mat of green.

Full circle. Perfect counter to every move, Xiulan thought. She channeled yang energy into Severing Light until the blade blazed like a fallen star. Five iron darts materialized in her free hand, each one thrumming with concentrated yin energy.

The darts sailed toward their targets. The metal cultivator responded instantly, launching his own projectiles. They collided mid-air, reducing Xiulan’s darts to glittering dust.

A savage grin spread across Xiulan’s face. The metal cultivator had helped her—the yin energy remained active within the scattered particles.

She jumped forward to the very front, a hand pulling Mei Chen back behind her.

Severing Light plunged into the stone. Lightning erupted from the blade, transforming into a devastating wave. It surged toward the dust cloud surrounding their opponents, sending the mat of grass exploding outward off the wall.

Lightning cascaded through the dust, striking every enemy cultivator. The metal user shrieked—a sound that pierced through the thunder. Metal poles burst from the ground around his group, channeling the devastating energy into the wall. Smoke rose from his singed robes as he stumbled backward. His companions twitched and shuddered, electricity still dancing across their bodies.

Mei Chen darted forward. The Li brothers followed, their short swords gleaming as they pressed the advantage. Despite the lightning strike, the enemy cultivators raised their weapons.

Xiulan spun Severing Light in a defensive arc, moving to guard Mei Chen’s back.

Mei Chen pounced forward like a frost-wreathed predator. Her claws raked across a cultivator’s chest, leaving trails of ice spreading across his robes. His scream cut off as Xiulan moved in and slashed his throat before he could regain mobility.

Green vines erupted from the Li brothers’ hands, wrapping around the enemy group’s legs. The plants constricted with supernatural strength, preventing escape. More vines crept upward, pinning arms and weapons.

Xiulan swept Severing Light in a horizontal strike, channeling yin energy through the blade and releasing it in an icy crescent. The metal cultivator stumbled and fell as he blocked the strike with a steel staff.

Zhang Huo stepped forward, his weathered face illuminated by gathering flames. Heat rolled off him in suffocating waves as he thrust both palms outward again, and a column of fire engulfed the enemy’s only possible avenues of escape.

Mei Chen reached out to grab the vines, spreading ice across them like a virus, rapidly reaching and freezing the legs of the enemy group.

The metal user’s desperate attempt to raise another barrier shattered. His companion’s resistance followed a second later, overwhelmed by the synchronized attack. Their weapons clattered against the stone as Mei Chen’s frost spread up their bodies, transforming the battlefield into a garden of ice sculptures.

Ice spikes exploded through all of them—except the short enemy who channeled water qi. He struggled against the vines while focusing on preventing the ice from expanding to him.

He looked up as Xiulan stepped forward.

“Wait—”

She removed his head with a single, swift slash of Severing Light.

They did it! They had beat the enemy group.

Xiulan wiped sweat from her brow as she caught her breath. Her companions showed similar signs of exertion—Zhang Huo dabbed at his forehead while the Li brothers leaned against each other.

A whistling sound drew her attention upward. Red streaks cut through the night sky toward their position. Blood spears—dozens of them.

“Above!”

Mei Chen shrieked. Frost erupted from her hands, forming a crystalline dome over their group. The blood spears shattered against the barrier in crimson explosions. Other projectiles followed to hammer the shield, each impact sending vibrations through the frost.

Xiulan scanned the battlements for Ming Lihua’s purple robes. Nothing. The senior appraiser had vanished from her position. Did the enemy overwhelm her while we fought?

Her stomach twisted as realization struck. They’d taken too long with their group. Ming Lihua and Wei Kang had been defeated…

There was no time to grieve or panic.

The Li brothers pressed closer as another volley slammed into Mei Chen’s barrier. Xiulan gripped Severing Light tighter, muscles coiled and ready despite her exhaustion. Zhang Huo’s shoulders tensed as more projectiles arced toward them through gaps in the frost shield.

Suddenly, spirit beasts materialized around them from wisps of blue energy; spectral tigers prowled forward on massive paws while serpents weaved between their legs. Ethereal boars charged with crystalline tusks lowered, attacking from every direction.

“Guard the flanks!” Zhang Huo shouted.

Xiulan spun Severing Light through a precise arc. The blade hummed as it dispersed a serpent’s spiritual form into azure motes. More beasts pressed through the dissipating light, crowding beneath the dome.

“Behind you!” Xiulan called as a tiger lunged at Zhang Huo.

“Not today, beast.” Zhang Huo’s palm blazed with crimson energy as he struck, the tiger’s form exploding into scattered light.

“Brother, pattern three!” Li Ren called out. The twins moved in perfect synchronization, their short swords carving through the spirit creatures. This was definitely a task their twin short swords excelled at.

“They’re breaking through!” Li Jan’s warning preceded another wave of blood spears hammering the barrier. Metal darts whistled through gaps in the frost.

Xiulan pressed up against Mei Chen’s. “Take my energy—like before.”

“But miss—”

“Do it!”

Xiulan grabbed Mei Chen’s hand, extending her qi. Their energies merged instantly, familiar from their earlier connection. A metal spear sliced across Xiulan’s cheek, drawing blood, but she maintained focus on the qi bond.

“Die already!” Zhang Huo roared as his flames consumed another wave of beasts.

Mei Chen’s power surged, wild and untamed through their connection. The truth was, she didn’t need more energy—she already had a massive pool far greater than Xiulan’s small pond. But the ratio was off, and the extra yang let her pull more without risking a pure yin episode.

“I’ve got you.” Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen, channeling more energy into their defense. The frost crystallized into dense ice above them before ice spikes began to flash up into the air at their attackers in a furious exchange of projectiles.

Li Ren and Li Jan’s blades flashed in perfect harmony, shattering the last spirit beasts into scattered light.

Xiulan turned her head toward the enemy siege weapons. Her breath caught as she spotted a dozen more advancing cultivators—far too many for them to handle now.

And right behind them…

A man wearing the armor and insignia of a lord atop a warhorse, flanked by a Whispering Shadows assassin, and... Bai Chen? She thought her father’s head of the house guard had died during her family’s massacre.

It left no question as to who the lord was, or how he had known so much.

Lord Chao.

Standard Protagonist Moments

Victory comes not from the absence of doubt but from the decision to act despite it. The greatest warriors I have known were not those who felt no fear but those who trembled and fought anyway.
—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

The defensive barrier wasn’t going to hold, even with her supporting Mei Chen. Xiulan squeezed the other girl’s hand and decided they had to retreat.

“Everyone off the wall—now!”

The remaining guards screamed as blood spears tore through their ranks up and down the length of the wall. Bodies tumbled from the battlements, leaving crimson trails against the stone. Zhang Huo and the Li brothers sprinted toward the stairs.

Mei Chen maintained a protective frost barrier around their retreat. It was the only thing protecting them, so…

Xiulan picked up Mei Chen and slung her over her shoulder, eliciting a startled yelp. Their qi connection wavered but it managed to hold while they worked on two different things at once.

Metal screeched against stone as the enemy cultivators breached the gate. Their boots thundered across the wall-walk, claiming Blackmere’s defenses. Xiulan jumped off the wall, Severing Light in her free hand humming with accumulated spiritual energy.

“Miss Lin!” Liu Bao emerged from an alley, leading a contingent of guards. His armor bore fresh dents and scorches.

A hail of arrows whizzed overhead. Mei Chen’s frost shield expanded, catching the projectiles with crystalline chimes. The ice grew thicker as more volleys peppered their position.

“Form up!” Wu Yan charged into view, her fire sword blazing with crimson energy. “Push them back!”

Liu Bao raised his sword. “For Blackmere!”

The mortal army inside the city walls surged forward. Hundreds of crossbow bolts filled the air while the city’s siege engines unleashed their fury, sending stone and metal projectiles arcing toward the gate.

Two enemy cultivators disappeared in explosions of gore and masonry, and the gate collapsed as trebuchet shots demolished its support.

Lord Chao’s remaining forces responded with devastating spiritual attacks. Waves of elemental energy obliterated the mortal soldiers despite scattered defensive talismans flaring to life. Bodies flew apart as qi-enhanced explosions ripped through their formations.

Liu Bao vanished in a blast that painted the cobblestones red. Xiulan clenched her jaw until pain shot through her temples.

Enemy cultivators swarmed over the gate’s rubble like ants from a broken hill—Xiulan counted at least fifteen more emerging through the dust and debris.

She shifted Mei Chen’s weight against her shoulder, the frost shield flickering as Mei Chen strained to maintain protection while being carried.

Stand here. Fight. Die gloriously defending the city.

The thought tasted like ash in her mouth. All those lore book stories from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles flooded back to her: tales of heroic last stands, of noble sacrifices that saved kingdoms and earned eternal glory.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat. She’d charged into this defense thinking victory awaited, imagining accolades and revenge served cold to House Chao. Dreaming of everyone praising the brave defenders who’d held the line.

Had all of it had been to serve her stupid pride and arrogance?

Xiulan watched another wave of soldiers dissolve under a barrage of spiritual attacks. The screams of the dying echoed off blood-stained walls as the stench of burnt flesh and spilled viscera filled her nose.

This wasn’t about honor or heroism. She’d fought to protect what belonged to her—her family, her friend, her future.

The fantasy of righteous victory crumbled like the city walls.

How disgustingly naive.

Xiulan stared at the carnage. The blood-soaked streets mocked her.

She’d pulled everyone into this nightmare and gotten them killed—Ming Lihua, Wei Kang, the loyal soldiers who still fought. Yang Mei lost her leg defending a position Xiulan had assigned. The bloody banquet where she had pushed forward a massacre in her rage—all dead by her own hands.

She could have fled. Avoided playing the court games. Ren Chun’s accusatory words rang in her head.

Her black karma demanded payment in spades.

The truth stabbed deeper than any blade. She had not wanted any of this. All she wanted was to save Mei Chen. To protect what remained of her family.

She should have grabbed Mother, Zhang Wei, and Mei Chen, then vanished to the kingdom’s furthest reaches where their enemies couldn’t follow before things had slid down a path she couldn’t break free from.

But no. Her arrogance whispered they could overcome anything. Now, the consequences of that hubris lay scattered across Blackmere’s streets.

Zhang Huo’s fingers dug into her shoulder. He shook her roughly. “Miss Lin! Your orders?”

The Li brothers exchanged a critical glance with Zhang Huo. Their faces hardened as they watched her freeze beneath the weight of her failures.

“It looks like I showed up just in time.”

Xiulan’s head snapped toward the familiar voice. A robed figure leapt from the rooftop, landing gracefully beside their group. Relief flooded through her chest at the sight of Feng Yu.

The black turquoise robe with gold trim—the same one they’d purchased from Ming—draped elegantly around her martial sister’s frame. Golden pins secured her sandy hair beneath an ornate headdress that caught the light of nearby fires. The red sash at her waist bore battle scars, yet silver threads wove through the singed fabric, turning them into badges of honor. Her saber hung ready at her hip, and those striking amber eyes blazed with determination.

“Why such a devastated look?” Feng Yu stepped forward. “Feng Yu has joined the fray!”

Enemy projectiles pinged against Mei Chen’s frost shield in rapid succession. Screams and explosions continued to echo through the streets. But Xiulan barely registered the chaos; her focus remained fixed on Feng Yu’s presence, drinking in the sight of her friend like a lifeline thrown into drowning waters.

She came back. She actually came back.

Zhang Huo stepped forward. “Who exactly are you?”

Feng Yu raised an elegant eyebrow. “Did I stutter? I’m Feng Yu!” She spread her arms wide, gold-trimmed sleeves catching the firelight. “Remember that name—I’m here to save my martial sister and this city!”

“How can one girl stop that—” Zhang Huo gestured toward the breach where enemy cultivators poured through.

“Did you bring reinforcements?” Xiulan cut him off. “House Min’s support?”

“Ah...” Feng Yu scratched her cheek. “Those nobles drowned everything in endless debates and politics. I grew tired of their glacial pace and ran ahead.”

The spark of hope in Xiulan’s chest sputtered and died. Despite Feng Yu’s impressive cultivation, they faced an overwhelming force.

“We’ve already lost. We need to—”

“Did you hit your head?” Feng Yu stepped closer, amber eyes blazing. “Mei Chen still breathes! Yes, the walls suffered damage, but this night isn’t lost!”

Xiulan’s shoulders slumped. “Ming Lihua died defending the gate. We’re outnumbered by at least twenty more cultivators, and we’ve lost four defenders already.” She gripped Severing Light tighter. “Another dozen went after Ren Chun and the estate.”

“That monkey?” Feng Yu snorted. “He’ll carve through them like paper. Your family remains safe.” She patted Xiulan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for Ming and the others. Hopefully, they were just injured, and we can rescue them later.”

Feng Yu looked out at the forming enemy cultivators at the gate. “We must act now to save Blackmere.”

A bitter laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. “Ha! But how?”

Xiulan watched as Feng Yu reached into her robe pocket.

“Remember our adventure at the lake?” Feng Yu revealed a translucent white egg that pulsed with spiritual energy. “Since you helped me claim this treasure, you deserve to see what it truly is.”

Xiulan’s breath caught. She had suspected something like this when Master Yan had presented Feng Yu with a prismatic beast orb, but seeing it…

It was the ancient dawn serpent’s egg!

Feng Yu produced the prismatic beast orb in her other hand. Crimson flames erupted from her palm, engulfing the orb in scarlet light. She pressed the flaming orb against the egg’s surface, and the crystalline shell absorbed the sphere, transforming from white to a deep reddish gold. The egg trembled and rocked in her grip.

Golden light burst through spreading cracks. Shell fragments scattered as a miniature serpentine form emerged—a replica of the ancient dawn serpent they’d faced, but small enough to coil around Feng Yu’s arm.

The ancient serpent hadn’t unleashed its full power to destroy them because it recognized its own offspring was in Feng Yu’s possession.

The baby fire serpent drifted upward into the air, trailing wisps of golden flame. Feng Yu reached out and cradled it close to her face. Their eyes locked. She opened her mouth, releasing a stream of spiritual energy that the serpent eagerly absorbed.

Feng Yu lifted the creature skyward. It shot into rapid circles, filling the air with excited hisses and sparks.

“I name you Liuhuo!” Feng Yu’s declaration rang with pride. “Flowing Fire!”

The crystalline barrier around them flickered as Mei Chen sagged against Xiulan’s shoulder, sweat beading on her pale forehead from maintaining the protective shield. The qi flow from their connection was still normal, but maintaining the defensive technique was mentally draining, and… did spirits experience mental drain, too?

“We don’t have time for this!” Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light while supporting Mei Chen’s weight.

Zhang Huo lowered his bow and pointed at the tiny serpent. “How will that save us? It’s barely bigger than a garden snake!”

“Have some respect!” Feng Yu planted her hands on her hips. “This is the offspring of an ancient beast. Its cultivation already surpasses all of ours combined!”

A squeak of pain erupted from Feng Yu as Liuhuo’s tiny fangs sank into her finger. She shook her hand frantically.

“I know you just woke up!” Feng Yu glared at the serpentine creature. “But can’t you stop the enemy and save the city? I need to impress my martial sister and be a hero!”

Liuhuo twisted in the air and exhaled a perfect smoke ring directly into Feng Yu’s face. She coughed and waved it away.

“This is insane, even for cultivators!” Li Jan backed away. His brother grabbed his shoulder.

The air shimmered around Liuhuo as his form began to expand. Xiulan’s jaw dropped as the creature’s body stretched longer and wider as he rose, filling more of the sky. Golden scales gleamed red in the city’s fires as Liuhuo grew to massive proportions.

Xiulan craned her neck back, watching the serpentine form block out the clouds.

“Oh...” Zhang Huo whispered.

Waves of radiant qi poured off Liuhuo’s enormous body as it reached a quarter of its parent’s size. The serpent’s coils stretched across the city skyline, its scales deflecting siege projectiles meant to strike the city’s buildings.

Feng Yu’s laughter echoed through the streets, tinged with manic glee.

Most of the enemy redirected their attacks, abandoning their assault on what was left of the defenders. Arrows, spiritual weapons, and siege ammunition arced toward Liuhuo’s floating form in a desperate barrage.

Feng Yu stepped forward with fluid grace, her saber ringing as it cleared her scabbard. “The counter attack starts now!”

She brushed past Mei Chen with a confident stride. “Little sister, you can rest now!”

Her palm thrust forward, and the frost shield dissolved into superheated steam that rolled outward in a scorching wave. Enemy projectiles vaporized mid-flight—qi orbs dispersed into harmless sparks, metal darts sublimated into gas. The thermal blast slammed into the barrage with devastating force.

Xiulan surveyed what remained of Blackmere’s defenders. Blood stained the cobblestones where Liu Bao had fallen, leaving the remnants of the city guard huddled behind broken barricades. Ming Lihua’s sacrifice at the gate left an ache in her chest.

A tense breath escaped her lips. The realization struck hard: she definitely wasn’t the protagonist of this story.

“We follow Feng Yu’s lead!” Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light.

Zhang Huo released a deep laugh. “I’d be embarrassed not to!”

Above the city, Liuhuo’s massive form gathered spiritual energy into a colossal sphere of fire. Golden flames rained down on the enemy siege camp like divine retribution. The impacts shook the ground beneath their feet.

Xiulan reached for Mei Chen’s hand. “We should go.”

Mei Chen puffed out a breath. “I’m okay.”

Xiulan took a step forward, but Mei Chen remained rooted. The tug on her arm forced Xiulan to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Xiulan turned back.

Mei Chen’s pale blue eyes studied her face. “Didn’t you want to run away?” She pointed down the empty street leading away from the battle. “We should go that way.”

Ice spread through Xiulan’s veins. The weight of Severing Light dragged at her arm as her muscles locked up. Of course Mei Chen had sensed it—all the doubt, the self-loathing, the desperate urge to flee. Their spiritual connection left nowhere to hide such things.

The sounds of battle faded into a distant buzz. Feng Yu’s dramatic entrance played through her mind again. The way everyone’s spirits lifted at her arrival. The hope that bloomed in their eyes.

And here stood Xiulan, ready to charge back into the fight just because victory seemed possible again. Ready to play at being a hero now that reinforcements had arrived. The same pattern, the same delusions that got so many killed already.

The truth settled like lead in her stomach. She wasn’t brave or noble or righteous—just a scared young woman desperately pretending to be something more.

She was afraid of so many things, but most of all, she was afraid of what Mei thought of her now that she had seen her spirit break.

Mei Chen wrapped her arms around Xiulan’s waist, pressing close. “No matter where you go, I’ll follow, and I’ll never regret it or blame you, because that’s my choice.”

The simple declaration pierced through Xiulan’s doubts. She wrapped one arm around Mei Chen’s shoulders while Severing Light remained ready in her other hand.

Beyond their embrace, golden flames rained from the sky as Liuhuo’s massive form twisted through the clouds and he let out an angry hiss. The battle raged on without them.

Each explosion reminded her of her choices.

Rallying Blackmere to fight. The recruitment of cultivators. The refusal to surrender. She’d set these events in motion through pride, arrogance and anger. If retreat had been her plan, she should have yielded the city immediately—and saved countless lives lost in this senseless siege.

Cold sweat trickled down her spine as another blast shook the ground. Her legs trembled with the urge to flee. Raw terror clawed at her chest, threatening to overwhelm her resolve.

The admission burned like acid in her thoughts. She was afraid. Terrified of death, of failure, of watching more people die for her choices.

“I can’t run away.” Xiulan tightened her grip on Severing Light. “I chose to defend the city. That responsibility falls to us now.”

Mei Chen’s whisper brushed against her collar. “Yes, miss.”

They turned and sprinted after Feng Yu’s charging form.

Enemy cultivators lined the ruined gate and walls ahead. Spiritual attacks erupted from their position: arrows wreathed in qi, bolts of pure energy, and waves of deadly force, splitting their fire between Liuhuo and Xiulan’s charging group.

Feng Yu raised her palm skyward. A sphere of crimson flame coalesced above her head before she shoved it forward, the incoming barrage dissipating against its surface in harmless sparks. She gestured while still sprinting, launching the fiery orb toward the wall.

“Forward!” Feng Yu’s battle cry echoed across the battlefield.

Xiulan gripped Severing Light tighter as she followed in Feng Yu’s wake. The Li brothers flanked her left while Zhang Huo covered their right with precise arrow shots.

Movement caught Xiulan’s eye. Wu Yan emerged from a pile of broken stone, her sword trailing ribbons of fire as she raised it high. The blade’s crimson glow cast dancing shadows across her determined expression.

“Show those bastards who isn’t dead!” Wu Yan’s shout carried across the ruins.

An answering roar rose from the rubble around them. Soldiers emerged from their hiding spots throughout the city—some bloodied, others grimy, but all bearing weapons with fierce determination. They raised crossbows toward the walls as the few remaining siege engines swung into position.

The sound of hundreds of crossbows releasing filled the air as the army launched their counterattack. Xiulan watched the deadly rain arc toward the enemy position while Liuhuo’s golden flames continued to fall outside the city from above.

The enemy cultivators arranged themselves into a twelve-pointed star formation on the rubble of the gatehouse. Spiritual energy blazed between each point, flowing like liquid light toward the center where the spirit beast summoner stood. The qi coalesced into a massive blue tiger that rivaled Liuhuo in size, its ethereal form rippling with concentrated spiritual power as it launched skyward to engage the serpent.

The impact of their collision sent shockwaves across Blackmere. Azure and gold qi clashed in brilliant explosions overhead while Liuhuo’s serpentine form twisted to avoid the tiger’s claws.

Cultivators on the walls broke to intercept Feng Yu’s charge. An earth cultivator slammed his palms into the ground, and stone walls erupted around Feng Yu, forming a prison of solid rock.

“Too slow!” Feng Yu’s qi superheated the stone cage. The rocks glowed cherry-red before liquefying into magma. She spun in place, sending the molten projectiles hurtling back at her attacker.

The deadly dance continued until a water cultivator stepped forward alongside his metal-wielding companion. Their combined qi manifested in a united attack.

Feng Yu slashed her saber, releasing a wave of scorching heat—but the water cultivator’s technique coated the metallic eruption in a protective shell. The chill pushed back Feng Yu’s flames while focusing the water into a concentrated beam.

The enhanced attack surged down the avenue straight toward their group, the combined spiritual energy crackling with lethal intent as it closed the distance.

Feng Yu slammed her saber into the cobblestones. Fire qi erupted outward in a protective wall against the incoming water beam. The flames flickered and wavered, pushed back by the relentless aqueous assault.

The stress became clear on Feng Yu’s forehead.

Li Ren and Li Jan stepped forward in perfect synchronization, their hands waving intricate patterns as emerald wood qi poured from their palms into Feng Yu’s failing flames.

The fire surged dramatically into a beam of it’s own, transforming from orange to vibrant green where the energies merged. The ground crumbled and erupted where the two qi beams collided and struggled to push each other back.

Above them, Liuhuo’s massive form wrestled with the spiritual tiger. The serpent’s fangs sought purchase on the beast’s ethereal neck while spectral claws raked golden scales. Spheres of flame erupted from Liuhuo’s body, raining down toward the twelve-point cultivator formation, but the attacks splashed harmlessly against a dome of interwoven blue qi protecting the array.

The competing beams—wood-enhanced fire versus pressurized water—carved deeper trenches into the avenue. Stone melted and vaporized where the energies clashed. The air crackled with conflicting spiritual pressure.

“I can help!” Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s sleeve. “Throw me!”

Xiulan blinked in confusion. “What?”

Before she could protest further, Mei Chen leapt onto her shoulders with supernatural grace. Xiulan instinctively grabbed her friend’s ankles and launched her skyward, following the momentum of Mei Chen’s jump.

Frost radiated from Mei Chen’s airborne form as ethereal blue threads erupted from her palms. The qi manifestations twisted through the air like living silk, hundreds of delicate strands weaving an intricate pattern. A wave of arctic cold washed over Xiulan, crystallizing her breath into white puffs.

The threads plunged into the enemy’s water beam. Ice spread through the liquid attack in an instant, splitting it apart and transforming the concentrated stream into thousands of razor-sharp shards. The frozen projectiles curved away, redirecting toward the twelve-point formation with lethal precision.

Feng Yu’s emerald-tinged flames punched through the gap Mei Chen created. The combined spiritual attack obliterated the metal and water cultivators before they could react.

Feng Yu pulled her saber out of the cobblestone and swept it in an upward arc, directing the remaining flame beam toward the dome of blue qi protecting the beast summoner’s array. The fire surged skyward, and the combined ice shards and flame impacted the barrier with devastating force.

The remaining siege engines creaked as crews loaded fresh ammunition. Stone projectiles launched in coordinated volleys, adding to the assault on the weakening dome. Spiritual energy crackled across its surface as the protective barrier began to fail. Random gaps appeared in the shield’s matrix, allowing missiles to penetrate and strike at the cultivators maintaining the formation.

Feng Yu’s saber flashed in the morning light. “To me! Break their formation!”

A bone-rattling hiss shook the city, sending Xiulan stumbling as the ground trembled beneath her feet. Above, Liuhuo’s massive golden form wrapped around the spiritual tiger, his fangs clamped onto the beast’s ethereal throat. The serpent’s coils constricted, crushing the tiger’s form as they plummeted toward the earth.

The impact demolished half the city wall. Stone and mortar exploded outward in a devastating wave, dust clouds billowing skyward against the lightening sky while the two massive creatures rolled through the rubble in their death struggle.

Movement caught Xiulan’s eye—Mei Chen plummeted from above. Xiulan lunged forward and grabbed her friend before she hit the ground. The impact drove her to one knee.

“Mei Chen!”

Blue light pulsed from the previous wound in Mei Chen’s chest, cracks spreading across her torso like spiderwebs in glass. Each labored breath caused the fractures to spread further.

Tears streamed down Mei Chen’s face. “It hurts.”

Xiulan pulled out the object repair talisman Ming had given her. The paper crinkled between her fingers as she remembered Ming’s warning—the talisman wouldn’t work while Mei Chen remained bound to her physical form. She stared at the useless slip of paper while Mei Chen’s breathing grew more ragged.

“Come back out!” Xiulan brushed Mei Chen’s cold cheek.

“Yes, miss.” Mei Chen’s eyes dulled. Her jaw slackened and a luminous blue orb drifted from her parted lips. The spirit darted upward and settled onto Xiulan’s forehead with a cool tingle.

Xiulan pulled out the repair talisman and pressed it against Mei Chen’s fractured chest. The paper crumbled to ash as spiritual energy knitted the cracks together, though jagged seams remained visible beneath the torn robes.

Through the settling dust, two soldiers stumbled past, their faces blackened with soot. Xiulan gestured toward them. “You two! Come here!”

They snapped to attention and hustled over, boots crunching on scattered debris.

“I have a critical mission. Take this body to the Treasure Pavilion and ensure it remains undamaged. This is absolutely vital.”

The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances but lifted Mei Chen’s limp form between them. Their footsteps faded as they carried her toward safety.

I can apologize to Master Qingfeng later.

Mei Chen swirled around Xiulan’s head with urgent intensity. We are falling behind!

Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light and sprinted after her allies.

Ahead, Feng Yu’s form blazed with amber qi as she slammed through the array’s barrier. The impact sent ripples of golden light cascading across the dome’s surface.

At the same time, the massive ethereal tiger dissolved into motes of light as the twelve-point formation broke apart. Cultivators spread out in a deadly pattern, their weapons gleaming in the morning sun.

A swordsman darted forward, blade whistling through the air at Feng Yu. She pivoted smoothly, her saber meeting his sword in a shower of sparks. The clash of steel rang out as they exchanged lightning-fast strikes.

The Li brothers moved in perfect sync, intercepting two spearmen who charged toward Feng Yu’s flanks. Steel clashed against steel as they locked weapons.

“Rain of Fire!” Zhang Huo’s voice boomed across the battlefield. A dozen arrows erupted from his bow, each trailing streams of crimson qi. The remaining nine cultivators scattered, their half-formed techniques disrupted as they dodged the burning projectiles.

The protective dome above shattered with a thunderous crack; crystalline shards rained down as they dissolved into nothing. Xiulan channeled qi into her legs and leaped, the wind whipping past as she arced through the air with Severing Light extended. Her feet touched down on the broken gate’s highest point, giving her a perfect view of the unfolding battle below.

The ground bucked beneath Xiulan’s feet. She shifted her stance wider, redistributing her weight as Liuhuo rose up with another thunderous hiss. The massive serpent’s golden scales caught the morning light as he launched skyward, his sinuous form casting a shadow over the enemy camp.

The orderly military camp dissolved into chaos. Panicked shouts erupted from below as soldiers abandoned their posts, dropping weapons and shields as they fled. Siege engines stood forgotten, their wooden frames creaking in the morning breeze.

Two cultivators abandoned the enemy formation and darted away from the city walls, apparently deciding their contract was no longer worth it. Their qi signatures faded into the distance.

Xiulan drew a steadying breath. “We need to join the fight too, Mei Chen.”

Yes, miss! Mei Chen’s eager thought resonated through their connection. Cool energy flowed down Xiulan’s head and arm as Mei Chen’s essence merged with Severing Light, the weapon’s surface frosting over with delicate patterns.

Xiulan retrieved her final six iron darts, purchased what felt like ages ago at the Treasure Pavilion. She channeled yang qi into the metal, heating them until they glowed. The opposing energies created perfect balance—yin flooding Severing Light thanks to Mei Chen while yang suffused the darts.

Below, the enemy cultivators’ star formation began to break apart. Xiulan bent her knees and launched herself into the air.

She landed in a three-point stance at the formation’s heart. Seven cultivators pivoted toward her, their weapons gleaming with deadly intent. The morning sun cast shadows across their faces as they registered her presence.

She exploded into motion, sprinting left toward a burly cultivator. A yang-infused dart blazed golden as it left her fingers. The cultivator twisted aside, but Xiulan brought Severing Light down in an overhead strike. The weapon’s tip pierced the earth. Lightning erupted in a devastating circle, the discharge catching her target square in the chest. He flew backward, robes smoking.

All the elements flared behind her—earth, fire, water, metal, and wood energies converged in an uncoordinated barrage. Xiulan spun, sweeping Severing Light in a wide arc. Mei Chen’s essence flowed through the weapon, manifesting as a wall of crystalline fog. The freezing yin energy collided with the incoming techniques, negating them in a spectacular clash that exploded upward.

Xiulan maintained her momentum, pivoting into another swing that forced her opponents to guard themselves with qi barriers or special techniques. Her remaining yang darts sailed through the air in rapid succession, their golden light cutting through the mist. The cultivators raised their hands in unison, combining their qi to blast Mei Chen’s ice fog skyward.

The battlefield cleared for a perfect moment. Xiulan swung Severing Light overhead, slamming the blade into the ground again. Lightning arced horizontally from the impact point, splitting into a dozen deadly branches. The electricity found six targets, their bodies convulsing as the power surged through them.

Only two remained standing.

The survivors charged forward—one wielding a curved sword that hummed with metal qi, the other gripping a steel-tipped spear wreathed in earth. Both had managed a defense against the electricity.

Amber light flashed as Feng Yu appeared beside Xiulan, her saber already swinging toward the spearman, who shifted his stance to meet her charge.

While they squared off, the swordsman lunged at Xiulan. His curved blade wove intricate patterns through the air and each strike flowed seamlessly into the next. It forced her to backpedal. His technique far surpassed her own, but Severing Light’s reach kept him at bay.

But it wasn’t the type of fight she was good at. Playing his game was a losing tactic.

Steel rang against steel as Feng Yu hammered the spearman with brutal overhead strikes. Her saber blazed downward with crushing force, driving him to one knee. The impact shattered his weapon and sent him sprawling backward.

The swordsman paused as he gauged his companion’s impending death. Feng Yu’s saber flashed once, cleanly removing the spearman’s head from his shoulders.

The distraction was what Xiulan wanted.

She raised Severing Light high, channeling qi into a devastating slash. Crystalline shards extended from the blade as Mei Chen’s essence amplified the strike’s reach. The swordsman dove aside, rolling to his feet as metal shards erupted from his sleeve toward Xiulan.

The projectiles met a wall of ice needles mid-flight. Both shattered on impact, the fragments tinkling against stone. Ice grew from the dust and traveled across the ground, snaring the swordsman’s boot. He stumbled, losing his perfect stance.

Xiulan darted forward, driving Severing Light straight for his torso. His sword swept up to block, but frost spread instantly across the steel as the weapon’s collided. The ice crawled down his arm as he tried to wrench free.

Within seconds, a crystalline coffin encased him completely.

The ice exploded inward, razor-sharp spikes piercing through flesh and bone. Blood misted the air before freezing solid.

Cool energy flowed up Severing Light as Mei Chen’s essence retreated, settling against Xiulan’s shoulder with a familiar tingle.

Moans echoed across the battlefield from the electrified cultivators, the acrid scent of ozone mixing with scorched cloth and flesh. Xiulan scanned the area. More than just two enemy cultivators had fled during the chaos, but ten of the thirteen that had formed the array were dead.

In the distance, Liuhuo’s massive form rolled through the enemy formations. Golden fire bombs rained from his body, exploding against siege equipment and scattering soldiers. Each detonation sent another wave of troops fleeing in terror. There was hardly anything left other than destroyed terrain.

Blackmere soldiers poured over the broken walls, boots crunching on debris as they searched for the dead. The Li brothers dragged stunned cultivators to a central point, binding them with thick vines. Zhang Huo followed behind, reinforcing the restraints with shimmering golden qi.

Xiulan blinked at the scene. Had they actually—

We did it! We won! Mei Chen’s excited thoughts bubbled through their connection.

“We really did it!” Feng Yu slapped Xiulan’s shoulder with a bright laugh.

Yes! Mei Chen’s spiritual essence pulsed with joy.

Feng Yu leaned closer to the glowing blue orb hovering near Xiulan’s shoulder. “Mei... Chen?”

The spirit darted forward, landing on Feng Yu’s forehead. Yes! Hello, Miss Feng!

Feng Yu’s eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the luminous sphere. “Is this... normal?”

Mei Chen swirled playfully through Feng Yu’s sandy brown hair before bouncing back to settle against Xiulan’s neck with the familiar cool tingle.

“Mei Chen’s body sustained damage.” Xiulan brushed frost from her sleeve and then reached up and took Mei Chen into her palm. “You can maintain this spirit form temporarily, but you need to return and anchor yourself soon or risk weakening.”

Yes, miss. I understand. The blue orb pulsed softly.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen anything quite like—” Feng Yu stopped mid-sentence as a deep grinding sound rumbled through the rubble beneath their feet. Broken stones shifted and clattered. Xiulan stepped to maintain her balance, boots crunching on pulverized stone.

“Lord Chao escaped.” Xiulan squinted at the distant tree line where qi signatures flickered and faded.

“Ha!” Feng Yu twirled her saber. “Let him run. We can hunt him down now!”

The ground trembled again. Liuhuo’s massive golden form slithered toward them. The serpent halted outside the destroyed gate and lowered his head. His enormous jaws parted, releasing an avalanche of broken bodies and crushed horses that crashed to the ground in a grotesque heap.

Xiulan’s breath caught. Atop the mangled pile, a black-robed figure—the Whispering Shadows assassin—thrashed weakly. Beside him, Lord Chao struggled to free himself, his once-pristine robes now stained with dirt and blood as he fought to extract his legs from the gruesome tangle of bodies.

“Well!” Feng Yu grinned. “Looks like it will be easy!”

Routed Flame

Words paint the soul’s truth in moments of triumph and despair. Listen carefully to what remains unsaid, for there lies the deepest meaning.
—Master Mei Hua, Sage of Ten Thousand Brushstrokes

Xiulan watched the guards carry Lord Chao on a stretcher across the field and into the city. His legs twisted at unnatural angles, yet his face remained a mask of rigid composure.

He spoke only to declare his rank and demand medical attention, along with an audience with the prefect. The sight brought her no satisfaction—just a hollow emptiness.

Her gaze swept the carnage. Bodies littered the ground, but one notable absence gnawed at her thoughts: Bai Chen’s corpse remained lost among the dead. The implications bothered her despite Mei Chen’s comforting spiritual presence against her neck.

He knew too much. The only reason she could conclude that he was by Lord Chao’s side was that he had witnessed her actions on the massacre night. That he wanted revenge for his old master who he had served…

Or he was a spy for Lord Chao all along.

We’ll find him, Mei Chen whispered through their bond.

Smoke rose throughout the city where fires still raged. The western half of Blackmere lay in ruins—smashed walls, collapsed buildings, and scorched streets marked the cost of their victory. The damage would take years to fully repair.

A shout drew her attention to the western wall. Zhang Huo heaved massive chunks of stone aside, revealing Wei Kang sprawled protectively over Ming Lihua’s prone form. Both still breathed, though blood stained their robes and spiritual damage radiated from their bodies in waves of disrupted qi.

Wei Kang pushed himself up with trembling arms. He reached down to help Ming, who gripped his forearm, a fierce blush spreading across her face as Wei Kang lifted her. She pressed against his chest while he carried her toward the spirit stone medical care the Li Brothers were sharing.

Xiulan suppressed a smile. “Mountains and merchandisers indeed.”

They look nice together, Mei Chen observed, her spiritual essence swirling with amusement.

Xiulan turned from the pair. Wei Kang and Ming deserved their private moment without an audience gawking at their budding connection. The sight stirred memories of romance novels she’d read—though this held far more authenticity for her.

Feng Yu stood before Liuhuo. The dawn serpent’s massive towered over her, his scaled length stretching toward the scraps of the destroyed enemy encampment. The logistics of housing him within—or even near—Blackmere’s walls seemed impossible—

Golden light pulsed from Liuhuo’s form. His massive body condensed inward, scales shrinking and reforming until he diminished to the size of a common garden snake. He coiled himself around Feng Yu’s arm.

Xiulan crossed the blood-stained grass to reach them. Liuhuo’s eyes drooped as Feng Yu tugged her sleeve to shelter his now-tiny form.

“The prismatic orb burned out.” Feng Yu displayed the dulled crystal in her palm. “A shame to use all its power at once, but worth the cost to save Blackmere, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll keep your aid in mind and find a way to repay this debt.” Xiulan bowed her head slightly.

“What debt can there be between sisters?” Feng Yu stepped closer, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned in, warm breath tickling Xiulan’s ear. “But if we’re keeping score, then I’ve already saved you a whole lot!”

The words cracked something inside Xiulan. She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Feng Yu, burying her face against the other girl’s shoulder. The scent of cinnamon enveloped her as tears threatened to spill.

“There, there.” Feng Yu rubbed soothing circles across Xiulan’s back.

Mei Chen’s spiritual essence swirled around them in lazy loops, radiating protective warmth.

“I almost gave up.” Xiulan’s words caught in her throat. “And the estate—I still don’t know if—”

Feng Yu stepped back and gripped Xiulan’s shoulders firmly. “Ren Chun would have handled any attackers. Our encounter might not have been entirely positive, but he’s not inherently bad. He seemed invested in protecting them, and he has the skills to back it up.”

Xiulan straightened her shoulders and nodded. “I’ll send the Li Brothers as messengers this time.”

Feng Yu bobbed her head in agreement.

Xiulan turned toward the bound prisoners. Vines wrapped around their limbs while qi restraints glowed with suppressive energy. “What should we do with them?”

“The mercenaries? We can sell them to the Treasure Pavilion.” Feng Yu adjusted Liuhuo’s sleeping form on her arm.

“S-sell?” Xiulan’s mouth went dry. “Like slaves?”

Feng Yu raised an eyebrow at her. “It’ll help recover some costs from hiring the defenders.” She brushed a strand of sandy hair from her face. “The pavilion takes a substantial cut, but it beats managing ransoms and indentures yourself. Politics will consume enough of our time soon.”

Not slavery. Just pragmatism. Xiulan’s stomach still twisted, but she forced out the words. “Then we’ll do that.”

The next hours blurred together in a haze of activity. They organized rescue parties, posted guards over the prisoners, and helped with rescue efforts. Xiulan searched for her lost captain.

Liu Bao’s crushed body lay exactly where she’d seen him fall in that final cloud of dust and blood. The sight punched the air from her lungs. Without his steady leadership, the city might have collapsed into chaos long before the siege.

“A monument.” Xiulan’s words carried across the rubble-strewn street. “We’ll raise one in the central square. For him and all the defenders.”

Too many names to carve. Too many faces she’d condemned.

Her fingernails bit into her palm. Mei Chen’s spiritual essence pulsed against her neck.

As things settled, it came time to move the prisoners. Xiulan watched the guards finish securing them. “We need to get Mei Chen back to her body.” She glanced at Feng Yu. “And deal with these prisoners.”

Ming Lihua strode toward them, her purple robes sporting fresh stitches and patches. She gestured toward Treasure Pavilion. “This way.”

Xiulan studied the merchandiser’s stiff movements. “Your injuries—are they serious?”

“I might have lost some cultivation progress.” Ming adjusted her silver-pinned bun. “Nothing permanent. With the enemy routed, we can utilize the pavilion’s resources more openly now.”

“Mei Chen needs more body repairs.” Xiulan glanced at the spiritual essence coiled around her neck.

Ming’s brows drew together. “Each repair leaves permanent damage. The cracks will spread wider each time—you both must be more careful.”

A pulse of concern radiated from Mei Chen’s spiritual form. Xiulan shared the sentiment.

At the Treasure Pavilion, Xiulan was shocked to find the prisoners ushered underground into a mirror of Fershere’s prison; the similarity bothered her. Brother Mo marched the bound cultivators past the iron-barred cells lined with suppression arrays.

A cultivator prison. Right here in Blackmere. The thought of Master Qingfeng possessing such facilities sparked unwelcome scenarios in her mind. How easily she could have ended up behind those bars instead of working with the pavilion.

A servant promised to tabulate the treasure gained and provide her with a tally of her share once completed. Xiulan nodded numbly and then they followed Ming to the guest house.

Relief flooded through her at the sight of Mei Chen’s physical form laid out on a soft bed in a quiet repose. Ming produced a gleaming repair charm and passed it over the damaged areas. The charm’s light seeped into cracked flesh, smoothing jagged edges.

A servant brought tea. Feng Yu poured three cups of the fragrant osmanthus blend. Xiulan settled onto a cushion, Mei Chen’s orb pulsing contentedly nearby. The warm liquid spread through Xiulan’s chest, washing away the siege’s lingering tension. Ming joined them once the repairs finished, accepting her own steaming cup with a grateful nod.

Silence settled over the room as they sipped their tea; the quiet felt earned after the chaos of battle.

Mei Chen’s spiritual essence began to dart around the low table in agitated swoops. Her blue mist form spun past Ming, then zipped over Feng Yu’s shoulder before swirling around Xiulan’s cup.

“Mei Chen?” Xiulan watched the erratic movements of her friend’s spirit.

The essence pulsed with distress. “I can’t clean or serve properly like this!” Mei Chen’s spiritual form vibrated with anxious energy.

“Should you return to your body?” Xiulan gestured toward the still form on the bed.

Mei Chen’s essence shot upward in sudden realization. She streaked across the room toward her physical shell, diving through the nose. The body’s chest rose slightly as breathing resumed.

“The longer she remains unattached to anything, the more she risks losing herself.” Ming set down her teacup with a soft clink.

“While she might unattach from her body...” Feng Yu stroked Liuhuo’s sleeping form. “I don’t think Mei Chen is ever truly unattached.”

Ming released a soft chuckle. “That’s not quite what I meant—but you’re right. That connection almost certainly helps focus her. It explains why she remains so coherent as a spirit.”

Xiulan crossed to the bed where Mei Chen lay motionless. She placed a gentle hand on Mei Chen’s shoulder and gave a soft squeeze.

Mei Chen’s eyelids fluttered. “Miss?” She blinked drowsily at Xiulan.

“Would you like to join us for tea?”

Life sparked in Mei Chen’s eyes. “Yes!” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “I don’t know how I fell asleep...”

“Apparently that can happen when you return to your body.” Xiulan stepped back to give her space. “I didn’t want you to think we were trying to get rid of you.”

Mei Chen swung her legs over the bed’s edge and followed Xiulan back to the low table. Feng Yu lifted the delicate porcelain teapot and poured a fourth cup.

Mei accepted it gratefully, taking a polite sip.

Feng Yu set the teapot on its holder, then leaned forward over her teacup, amber eyes serious. “Your great grandfather supports you and your mother, but Cousin Min faces unexpected complications. Imperial Prince Sheng Hao—the Fifth Prince—has hobbled his efforts. The reinforcements should arrive soon, despite his interference.”

Xiulan set down her cup with a sharp clink. “The Fifth Prince?” Worry ran through her chest. “Could he be Lord Chao’s patron?” She pressed her fingers against her temples. “What political mire did Father drag House Lin into?”

Feng Yu adjusted the sleeping Liuhuo on her arm only moments before he would’ve fallen off. He settled for wrapping around her cup. “I am not sure. It looks like my—the prince’s support was not overt, or he would have been more forceful rather than simply coming along and demanding treatment.”

The slip caught Xiulan’s attention. Her gaze dropped to Feng Yu’s red sash, where a small piece of white ivory peeked out, its red tassel swaying against her side.

Xiulan glanced up and their eyes met across the table. Raw fear blazed in those amber depths.

Princess. The realization struck like lightning. Of course she’s a princess. The pieces clicked together—the noble bearing, the mysterious travel pass, the easy path they walked in Fershere. Xiulan wanted to kick herself for missing such obvious signs.

She deliberately shifted her gaze away from Feng Yu’s tense form. “Ming, will this situation cause problems for the Treasure Pavilion?”

The words passed through her lips without registering as her thoughts raced. Feng Yu clearly dreaded discovery. The fear in her sister’s eyes spoke volumes about the weight of her secret.

I can’t hurt her. Like Liuhuo, she can tell me when she’s ready. The decision crystallized instantly in Xiulan’s mind.

Excitement bubbled beneath her careful mask. A princess! Fate finally smiled upon her with this friendship. The path to finding the Phoenix Princess—her ultimate goal—suddenly seemed less impossible. Royal connections could unlock doors previously barred.

Ming’s analytical tone cut through her musings. “The pavilion should weather this storm without notice. Your greater concern should be the civil damage from this cultivator conflict. The Fifth Prince could censure both House Lin and House Chao for such destruction.”

“This region holds little political significance.” Feng Yu said. “With Lord Chao captured, negotiating his release should resolve these issues.”

The suggestion twisted Xiulan’s stomach. Release Lord Chao? After the devastation he brought to Blackmere? Her mother and brother would never be truly safe. Even if Lin Zhang Wei shared Chao blood—

“Miss.” Mei Chen’s soft voice drew her attention. “Everything will be okay. We made it through the worst of it.”

Xiulan smiled at her. She hoped it was true.

Future Insight

A spirit’s bond to its original flesh represents the last thread of humanity. Once severed, that thread cannot be rewoven. Each new vessel distances the spirit further from what it once was, until only the hunger remains.
—Demon Lord Sha Kong, Consumer of Ten Thousand Souls

Xiulan’s stomach twisted when the servant delivered Master Qingfeng’s summons. The weight of obligation pressed down on her shoulders as she walked with Mei Chen through the Treasure Pavilion’s polished hall.

Each footstep echoed her mounting anxiety. The accumulated debt loomed large in her mind—such imbalance stretched beyond normal bounds.

No amount of spirit stones or pills could restore equilibrium to their relationship. There was only one possible course of action that made sense to her.

At least, only one that wasn’t malicious or damaging to her.

The ornate door to the tea room slid open. Master Qingfeng sat behind a low table, steam rising from a fresh pot of tea. Angry red blisters covered the left side of his face, spreading down his neck to disappear beneath his collar. His left hand bore similar marks as he lifted his cup—stark evidence of the lightning ordeal he’d faced.

The image of him atop the pavilion flashed through Xiulan’s mind. Golden siege orbs had shattered under his power before he struck down their creator. Without his intervention, the battle might have ended differently.

Rather than take her place at the cushion, Xiulan dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor.

“Miss!” Mei Chen reached for her arm.

Xiulan pressed her forehead to the ground in a formal kowtow. Mei Chen tugged at her sleeve but failed to budge her. After a moment’s hesitation, Mei Chen sank to her knees beside Xiulan and mirrored the deep bow.

A gentle clink of porcelain echoed through the room.

“Please, I beg you not to place additional burdens upon me. The weight already threatens to overwhelm.” Xiulan kept her forehead pressed to the floor.

“The greatest burden we carry is often the one we place upon ourselves.” Master Qingfeng set his cup down. “Come, share tea with me. The floor offers poor comfort for discussion.”

Xiulan lifted her head and shifted to the cushion beside the low table. The aromatic steam from the tea carried notes of jasmine and something deeper—perhaps oolong. The familiar ritual of accepting the cup steadied her.

“Now, about Mei Chen.” Master Qingfeng touched the blistered skin on his neck. “I’ve read accounts of spirits leaving their vessels, but witnessing such an occurrence would prove educational.”

Xiulan’s eyes widened slightly. The simple request after her formal prostration was… not what she expected. She turned toward Mei Chen.

Mei Chen shrugged. “I don’t mind.” She looked to Xiulan. “Miss?”

Xiulan nodded. Without hesitation, Mei Chen settled her head onto Xiulan’s lap and closed her eyes. A soft blue mist seeped from her nose and mouth, coalescing into a luminous orb. The spiritual essence drifted upward in lazy spirals around Xiulan before floating toward Master Qingfeng.

“Ming’s assessment proves accurate.” Master Qingfeng studied the ethereal sphere. “The spirit demonstrates remarkable strength, yet the physical vessel remains inadequate. I erred in assuming natural adjustment would occur.”

The blue orb swooped down to dance around his teacup.

What can I do? I need my body! Mei Chen’s thoughts echoed with desperate intensity.

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard, contemplating the spiraling essence.

A frown creased Xiulan’s brow. She extended her hand—Mei Chen zipped back to her instantly. Xiulan lifted the orb up to her head and Mei Chen settled into playful swirls atop her hair.

Xiulan looked to Master Qingfeng. “What steps must we take?”

“Rapid cultivation advancement stands essential if she is to maintain her spirit on the earthly plane.” Master Qingfeng tapped his fingers against the table. “She must maintain regular interaction with others—not fixate solely on a single person. Such obsession breeds dangerous heart demons.”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck at the pointed observation.

I am not obsessed! Mei Chen’s indignant thoughts pulsed through the blue light.

Master Qingfeng raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, young spirit, how often have you separated from Miss Lin for any significant duration?”

The blue light dimmed, pulsing with a melancholic hue. Only once... when I died. Mei Chen’s thoughts rippled with distress.

Xiulan reached up and cupped Mei Chen in her palms, drawing the spirit orb close to her chest. The familiar warmth of Mei Chen’s spiritual essence seeped into her skin.

“As I suspected.” Master Qingfeng poured fresh tea. “It stands to reason that a Spirit Cultivator requires greater mental equilibrium than any other practitioner. While attachment provides an anchor, it becomes a dangerous crutch.”

He straightened, adopting the formal tone of a lecturer. “Master Song Lin wrote something relevant to this matter in Reflections on the Jade Path. His words ring particularly true for your situation: ‘The strongest bonds are those which enable growth rather than restrict it.’”

“But how can she maintain balance without losing herself?” Xiulan spun Mei Chen with a finger, eliciting a playful yelp and a gentle tugging at her fingers.

“Sage Liu Yue might have addressed this in her Moonlit Cultivation Method. She taught that spirits must flow like moonlight—touching all things while remaining untethered.” Master Qingfeng traced the rim of his teacup. “‘The moon does not shine for a single flower alone.’”

What if I fade away? Mei Chen’s essence flickered anxiously.

Xiulan voiced the concern. “Master Song Lin spoke of meaningful lives for mortals in Reflections, but does that apply to spirits?”

Master Qingfeng raised an eyebrow and stared at her. “I chose this piece of wisdom as I felt it related to Mei Chen’s situation.”

“I understand,” Xiulan said. “Interacting with others shouldn’t pose a problem. But what solid plan can we make to help her stabilize herself beyond that?”

“The solution lies with increasing your cultivation,” he said. “Mei Chen has more power than she has control and skill. What she does now comes by instinct, yet that can follow unwanted paths if provoked. Just socializing with you, Feng Yu, and others has muted the most feral tendencies in a few days.” Master Qingfeng set his cup down firmly.

“You both require proper instruction from an established school or sect. Blackmere and the frontier territories cannot provide what you need. The great institutions in the City of Aeris or Arinthia itself offer your best hope for advancement.”

Xiulan stared at Master Qingfeng, teacup frozen halfway to her lips. The suggestion struck discordant notes against her expectations. Every interaction, every lesson, every careful observation had pointed toward him taking her as a student. The weight of obligation had settled into quiet acceptance at the back of her mind.

Yet now he suggested other schools? Other sects?

The blue orb of Mei Chen’s essence pulsed questioningly against her palm.

“I don’t understand.” Xiulan set her cup down with precise control. “Are you suggesting we seek training elsewhere as your agents?”

Master Qingfeng’s laugh echoed through the tea room. “No, Miss Lin. Your path simply requires broader horizons than Blackmere can provide.”

He traced patterns in the air, sketching the emblems of the major institutions. “The Skyward Institute excels in qi control and air manipulation. Earth’s Embrace Academy builds unmatched physical foundations. Flameheart Sanctum specializes in fire techniques and alchemy, while Aqua Seraph Academy masters healing arts and water manipulation.”

Memories from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles flooded Xiulan’s mind. As Li Mei, she had collected countless technique manuals from these institutions’ ruins. Players built miniature versions of these schools, desperately trying to recapture lost greatness.

“But what about Mei Chen?” Xiulan pulled the spirit essence closer. “These prestigious institutions might react poorly to a wrathful spirit.”

Master Qingfeng shook his head. “Mei Chen doesn’t match the criteria for a wrathful spirit. Her condition resembles a spirit cultivator separated from their physical form.”

The blue orb of Mei Chen’s essence brightened.

Master Qingfeng fixed Xiulan with a penetrating stare. “You seemed aware of this distinction already. Curious, given how rare such knowledge proves to be. More curious is how you know of Master Song Lin’s Reflections. Copies are incredibly rare. I have the only one in the county, and I don’t believe I shared it with you.”

Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck as she stared into her cooling tea. “A lucky guess… Jade is related to… mortal wealth?” Her answer was pathetic at best.

The truth was that Qingfeng’s mention of the masters related to the loading screen messages in the game… and while she didn’t remember them exactly because they were all poetic and wisdomy… it did jog her memory a bit.

She traced the rim of her cup. “And for Mei Chen… Also a lucky guess? I didn’t want anyone labeling her incorrectly as a wrathful spirit. Before creating this... spirit cultivator disguise, she encountered someone who reacted poorly.”

“Hmm.” Master Qingfeng stroked his beard. “Preconceptions root deeply in people’s minds. Her spiritual state grants significant power but leaves her vulnerable. The safety seal aimed to conceal her nature and prevent self-harm, though it proved inadequate for its purpose.”

Was he dropping the issue of her unusual knowledge? She would happily accept that.

“The attackers removing her seal saved our lives,” she said, the memory of Mei Chen’s ice barrier protecting them from Lord Chao’s forces flashing through her mind. “Without that limitation, she turned the tide of battle.”

Master Qingfeng leaned forward, his blistered hands clasping his teacup. “And yet such premature usage of her powers has damaged her body. While not critical now, such damage accumulates. If her vessel breaks before she reaches sufficient cultivation to anchor herself and maintain her dantian core without it, she will dissolve into a true wrathful spirit—the very thing most fear.”

Anxiety crawled down Xiulan’s spine, and Mei Chen flickered and pulsed faster.

“She needs opportunity to advance and gain that foundation.” Master Qingfeng’s expression hardened. “And under no circumstances should she attempt to possess another body or corpse besides her own. Such practices mirror the demonic northerners. She would be hunted, and with good reason.”

The blue essence swirled up from Xiulan’s hands, expanding into a larger sphere. I wouldn’t hurt people like that! Mei Chen’s thoughts radiated distress. I wouldn’t do something so bad... I just want to protect her! The spiritual essence contracted, wrapping around Xiulan’s shoulders like a defensive cloak. Protect Miss Lin and my friends!

Xiulan reached up to stroke the ethereal essence. The familiar warmth of Mei Chen’s spirit pressed against her skin, now carrying an edge of desperation that made her heart ache.

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard, the motion drawing attention to the lightning burns across his neck. “The Skyward Institute stands as your best option. Their mastery of qi control would benefit both of you.” He paused to sip his tea. “They maintain a small contingent of spiritual cultivators in Aeris. Though rather insular, they might prove receptive to your situation. Of course, consider your other companions—they’ll likely accompany you.”

Xiulan blinked. The tea stopped halfway to her lips. “Feng Yu would attend as well?”

“And that young man.” Master Qingfeng nodded sagely.

Xiulan gripped her teacup tighter. “What about my mother and brother? Have you heard anything?”

Master Qingfeng smiled. “Your concerns appear unfounded. They’ve approached the city steadily and crossed through the gates moments ago.”

The teacup clattered against the table as Xiulan’s hands trembled, relief flooding through her chest. “They’re okay?”

Can we go see them? Mei Chen’s thoughts pulsed excitedly through her spiritual essence.

“You may.” Master Qingfeng set his cup down with practiced grace. “I expect you both for meditation tomorrow.”

The blue mist swirled down into Mei Chen’s still form, color returning to her pale cheeks. She opened her eyes. A bright smile spread across her face as Xiulan massaged her shoulders, helping ground her back into her physical form.

“I’m up, miss.”

They stood and bowed to Master Qingfeng.

“Miss Lin.” Master Qingfeng’s tone carried a note of warning. “You should prepare an explanation for your remarkable fortune. Such consistent luck draws attention, and others might seek either the truth, or its source for themselves.”

Oh. He hadn’t dropped it…

Xiulan bowed lower. “Master, I’ll seek to do better in the future. Thank you for your patience.”

Shifting Wind

Each step carries purpose, each gesture holds meaning. The wise cultivator learns to read these signs as clearly as their own meridians.
—Master Yan Hui, Teacher of Common Wisdom

Xiulan strode through Blackmere’s streets with Mei Chen padding silently beside her as they approached the city manor. A line of wagons stretched along the street outside, loaded with furniture and supplies.

Inside, servants scurried about like hurried mice, carrying boxes and directing movers. The organized chaos filled every corner of the entrance courtyard. Xiulan spotted Lan Zhao directing the placement of a carved wooden cabinet while Zhang Wei bounced between helping different servants.

I should have prepared proper noble quarters. Xiulan resisted the urge to smack her forehead. The city manor remained spartan compared to the estate’s luxuries.

Zhao Lian stood in the center of the commotion, radiating calm authority as she coordinated the efforts. Her eyes lit up at Xiulan’s approach.

“Mother.” Xiulan bowed formally.

“Xiulan!” Zhao Lian stepped forward and clasped Xiulan’s hands. The familiar scent of jasmine enveloped them.

“Are you alright? What happened at the estate?” Xiulan scanned her mother for signs of injury.

“The attackers damaged parts of the estate, but Ren Chun and the other cultivators drove them back.” Zhao Lian squeezed Xiulan’s hands. “We suffered only minor casualties.”

“Why travel here?”

“The damage was just minor.” Zhao Lian gestured to the wagons outside. “We brought supplies and assistance. And with Lord Chao’s capture, my presence here could prove beneficial. And… I thought you might need help.”

The servants bowed deeply as they passed. Xiulan nodded thoughtfully. Her mother’s diplomatic skills would indeed help navigate the aftermath of Lord Chao’s failed siege… or at least shift the burden to her.

Which, considering how she was supposed to be distancing herself from mortal affairs, seemed to be heading in the right direction.

However, with how involved cultivators were in the battle that had ravaged the city, it seemed premature to think they could extract themselves cleanly.

At the very least, Xiulan wouldn’t even consider leaving until things were settled.

Movement across the courtyard caught Xiulan’s attention. Zhang Wei walked alongside Ren Chun, laughing at something the young cultivator said. The moment Zhang Wei spotted her, his smile vanished. He turned away, shoulders stiff, and whispered something to Ren Chun.

A sharp ache bloomed in Xiulan’s chest. The cold dismissal stung worse than any blade. He used to run to greet me with such joy.

“I’ll see to our quarters and organize the household.” Zhao Lian touched Xiulan’s arm before following Zhang Wei into the manor.

Ren Chun approached with measured steps. “Congratulations.”

“For what?” Xiulan kept her tone neutral.

“The siege. Defeating Lord Chao. Protecting Blackmere.”

The words tasted like ash. Empty praise for bloodshed and death. “Thank you for protecting my family during the attack on the estate.”

Xiulan escaped with Mei Chen. Feng Yu could handle him for her…

Ren Chun watched them go with a frown.

The next week passed in a blur of activity. Her mother proved invaluable, taking command of the city officials and directing military matters with practiced grace. The relief of delegating those duties gave Xiulan precious time to focus on cultivation.

She and Mei Chen maintained their daily lessons at the Treasure Pavilion. Between training sessions, she crossed blades with Feng Yu and Ren Chun, testing her growing spear skills against their swords.

She was no expert, but at least she didn’t embarrass herself and trip over her own feet anymore…

The share of ransoms from the captured cultivators exceeded her expectations yet barely offset her expenses. The war had devoured two-thirds of her earnings from the dawn serpent scale venture with Feng Yu in Fershere. Her funds dwindled to just under two thousand spirit stones.

It was an incredible amount of wealth by mortal standards, but for a young aspirational cultivator, it was a meagre beginning.

By the end of the week, Xiulan had studied her collection of elemental pills and refining powder. Her progress felt sluggish; perhaps it was time to complete her Body Refinement and advance to the next stage of cultivation.

Xiulan arranged her cultivation supplies across the low table, frowning at the array of pills and powders.

“What troubles you?” Mei Chen leaned forward over her shoulder with a hug.

“I need to catch up to Feng Yu and Ren Chun. They’ve already reached Qi Gathering while I’m still stuck in Body Refinement.” Xiulan tapped her fingers against the wooden surface.

“Why not ask Fairy Feng for advice?” Mei Chen tilted her head.

Xiulan blinked. “That’s... actually brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you turned it into a competition?” Mei Chen grinned.

“You’re too smart for your own good.” Xiulan turned and hugged her back. The ghost girl preened under the praise, a soft purr rumbling in her chest.

They found Feng Yu in the manor’s kitchen, surrounded by bewildered cooks. She stood at a prep table, pressing ground meat into flat circles while asking questions about beef patties.

“What are you doing?” Xiulan stared at the unusual sight.

“Trying to recreate hamburgers.” Feng Yu shaped another patty. “The cooks think I’m mad.”

Xiulan burst into laughter. “I thought you’d be practicing sword forms or meditating. Aren’t you supposed to focus on cultivation?”

“Cultivation extends beyond meridians and dao.” Feng Yu flipped a patty onto a heated stone. “Hamburgers might be able to enrich the spirit.”

“Then let me help.” Xiulan rolled up her sleeves.

Xiulan watched Feng Yu work the meat.

Last time, I didn’t even consider mayonnaise...

“Chef Yao?” Xiulan turned to the puzzled head cook. “Could we create an egg sauce?”

The elderly chef stroked his wispy beard. “What kind of egg sauce, Miss Lin?”

Xiulan tapped her chin. “We need egg yolks, oil, and vinegar. Maybe some salt and mustard powder, too.”

“An interesting combination.” Chef Yao beckoned to his assistants. “Bring fresh eggs from this morning’s collection and the seasoned rice vinegar.”

Xiulan separated the yolks into a bowl while explaining the process to Chef Yao. “The key is whisking constantly while adding the oil drop by drop.”

“Like making an emulsion?” Chef Yao brightened. “Similar to our sesame paste preparation?”

“Exactly!” Xiulan grinned. The kitchen staff gathered around as she demonstrated, slowly incorporating the oil into the egg yolks.

Mei Chen sniffed at the developing sauce. “The scent changes as you whisk.”

Three failed attempts later, the sauce finally achieved the right consistency. Chef Yao examined the thick, creamy result with professional interest.

“Fascinating. The oil and egg bind completely.” He dipped a spoon to test. “And the vinegar adds brightness.”

Feng Yu assembled the first burger while Xiulan finished the sauce. Fresh lettuce leaves and sliced tomatoes from the supplies brought in after the siege complemented the seasoned meat patty.

“If only we had some cheese.” Xiulan sighed wistfully. “What kind of cheese do we have?” she asked Chef Yao.

“We produce several varieties from goat’s milk.” Chef Yao gestured to one of his assistants. “Bring the aged white cheese from storage.”

The assistant returned with a crumbly white mass wrapped in cloth. Xiulan sniffed it—the sharp, sour aroma reminded her more of yogurt than cheese.

“We age it in ceramic pots for three months.” Chef Yao cut a small piece. “The western traders taught us their methods generations ago.”

Xiulan tasted the sample. The texture felt dry and granular against her tongue, with none of the creamy richness she remembered from American cheddar. This wouldn’t melt right on a burger at all.

“I’ve never seen you so focused on cooking before.” Mei Chen leaned over the counter, sniffing at the ingredients.

Xiulan laughed. “In my—um, it’s a new enjoyment. A hobby!”

“We should skip the cheese.” Feng Yu shaped another patty. “It makes it taste different from what we had before. The mayonnaise seems fine, though.”

“Agreed.” Xiulan returned to whisking the mayonnaise. “The burgers will taste better without it.”

They worked together assembling the meals: Feng Yu grilling the meat, Xiulan spreading sauce, and Mei Chen arranging the vegetables. The kitchen filled with savory aromas that drew curious onlookers.

Zhao Lian appeared in the doorway, followed by a hesitant Zhang Wei.

Her mother smiled warmly. “Something smells wonderful.”

“Join us?” Xiulan gestured to the finished plates. “There’s plenty.”

Xiulan watched the group gathered around the kitchen table. No formal dining room, no servants standing at attention, no rigid etiquette—just people enjoying food together. A warm contentment spread through her chest. This casual gathering fulfilled something she’d longed for as Li Mei and never experienced as Lin Xiulan.

“Chef Yao, remember those crispy potato strips from earlier? We should make those, too.”

Chef Yao nodded and went to work slicing potatoes into thin strips while his assistants heated oil in large woks. The familiar sizzle brought a smile to Xiulan’s face.

“An excellent suggestion.” Chef Yao dropped the first batch into bubbling oil. “These foreign dishes intrigue me.”

The aroma of frying potatoes drew more curious onlookers. Servants poked their heads through doorways, and soon, the kitchen buzzed with activity. Everyone wanted to try the new foods.

Xiulan dipped a golden-brown fry into the mayonnaise. “We need something else too—a sauce made from tomatoes and spices.” She turned to Chef Yao. “Do you have any vinegar and sugar?”

The kitchen staff eagerly joined the experimentation. One cook suggested adding ginger, while another offered dried chilies. Servants rushed to fetch ingredients, staying to taste-test each attempt.

More people filtered in as word spread through the manor. Guards off-duty squeezed beside maids at the tables. Kitchen helpers passed plates of burgers and fries to the growing crowd. Laughter and chatter filled the space as everyone shared their opinions.

This feels like what home should have been, Xiulan thought, watching Zhang Wei demonstrate the proper way to assemble a burger to wide-eyed servants.

The rigid barriers of status dissolved in the steam and savory scents of good food shared among friends and family.

The sweet burn of rice wine slid down Xiulan’s throat. Lanterns dotted the streets of Blackmere, casting warm light over crowds of celebrating citizens. Drums thundered somewhere in the distance, mixing with drunken singing and laughter.

“Another round!” A guard slammed his cup on the wooden table.

“You’re just trying to get me drunk.” Xiulan accepted the refilled cup anyway. The wine tasted surprisingly good—smooth and fragrant rather than the harsh spirits she expected.

Feng Yu drained her third pitcher without pause. “Watch this.” She grabbed another, drawing cheers from the assembled guards.

Xiulan studied Feng Yu’s steady hands and clear eyes. The cultivation energy coursing through their meridians burned through alcohol faster than normal people. A smile tugged at her lips as she raised her own cup.

Feng Yu jumped onto the table, holding up the wine pitcher as she launched into a tale.

“And then—” Feng Yu gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over a lantern. “Xiulan called down lightning from the heavens! Thunder boomed as a hundred enemy cultivators exploded into ash!”

“That’s not what happened!” Xiulan protested through her laughter.

“Miss Lin!” Mei Chen hovered anxiously behind her chair. “You shouldn’t drink so much. What if—”

“Relax.” A guard raised his cup. “We’re celebrating not dying!”

The crowd roared agreement. More wine flowed. Someone started singing a bawdy victory song.

“To the Thunder Goddess!” Feng Yu proclaimed.

Xiulan tried to object but found herself floating pleasantly, the world soft around the edges. When did everything get so fuzzy?

The guards bellowed toasts, their voices carrying across the festivities. Mei Chen’s worried face blurred in and out of focus as Xiulan swayed gently in her seat.

A wave of shouts rippled through the nearby streets.

Xiulan turned toward the commotion as soldiers dropped to their knees in rapid succession, creating a ripple effect through the crowd. Through the wine-induced haze, she focused on a procession entering the courtyard: robed figures strode forward while servants carried flags that caught the lantern light.

The familiar pattern on the flag snapped Xiulan to attention. Gold thread on jade and white silk displayed the imperial sigil—five suns arranged in a circle. The words “Fifth Small Sun of the Kingdom” glinted beneath the embroidered design.

Xiulan stumbled to her feet alongside Feng Yu as two men in ornate robes approached. Their clothing sparkled with precious gems and intricate embroidery—one in white and gold, the other in blue and black.

“Kneel before His Highness, Sheng Hao, the Fifth Prince of the Kingdom!” A servant rushed ahead to announce.

The courtyard erupted in movement as everyone dropped to bow. Xiulan started to bend her knee but noticed Feng Yu remained standing tall beside her. Of course she wouldn’t kneel. I was right...

“Rise.” The prince in white and gold waved his hand dismissively. “What a crude establishment.” He wrinkled his nose and turned to his companion. “Is this truly where we had to come?”

The wine burned through Xiulan’s veins, loosening her tongue. “My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” She injected sweetness into her tone. “House Chao recently burned our manor to the ground. We’ve only just rebuilt. Perhaps the accommodations aren’t suitable for those accustomed to more... extravagant tastes.”

The prince’s gaze locked onto Xiulan, deliberately avoiding Feng Yu’s presence. “Is this the girl?”

The second man stepped forward, his robes rustling against the courtyard stones. “Are you Lin Xiulan?”

Xiulan clasped her hands and bowed formally, keeping her movements precise despite the wine. “This one is Lin Xiulan of Blackmere County.”

“Ha!” The prince’s laugh cut through the tense atmosphere. He turned to his companion with exaggerated dismay. “Why isn’t she in chains already?”

The man in black and blue smoothed his sleeve. “I am Min Tajin, your cousin.” He paused, studying her with calculating eyes. “You stand accused of causing catastrophic damage within the kingdom. You are under arrest.”

Silence descended over the courtyard. The celebrating crowds stilled, their earlier joy evaporating into the night air. Even the distant drums seemed to fade.

“Well?” The prince’s voice dripped with mockery as he addressed Tajin. “Where are the chains? Surely you don’t mean to leave such a dangerous criminal unbound?”

“She would break them.” Tajin spoke matter-of-factly.

Prince Sheng Hao scoffed. “You jest! What about my safety? This—this barbarian could strike me down where I stand!”

Tajin glanced meaningfully at Feng Yu before returning his attention to the prince. “Your Highness, there isn’t a soul present who could stop her from removing your head before you hit the ground. But rest assured, I would face severe punishment for such a failure.”

The prince rolled his eyes toward the dark sky. “Of course, of course.” He waved his hand in a dismissive circle. “Where is Lord Chao then? You’re having such a delightful celebration—have him come here at once.”

The wine buzzed pleasantly as Xiulan straightened her robes. “Lord Chao resides in my dungeon at present.” She didn’t break eye contact with the prince. “I had to remove his legs. They sustained too much damage during the battle, and sadly, my limited finances couldn’t cover the cost of healing pills.”

“That utter buffoon.” The prince pressed elegant fingers against his temple and released a dramatic sigh. “Fine! Since we must dine among common soldiers tonight, bring me whatever food and wine you’re serving at this...” He gestured vaguely at the celebrating crowd. “...festivity.”

Servants rushed forward with a lacquered table, setting it before the prince with practiced efficiency. The polished surface gleamed in the lantern light as they arranged cushions and placed an ornate wine service. A steaming hamburger arrived on a jade plate, garnished with fresh herbs.

The prince stared at the round creation. “What manner of peasant food is this?”

“A delicacy from distant lands, Your Highness.” Xiulan watched him prod the bun.

He lifted the burger with obvious reluctance and took a delicate bite. His eyebrows shot up. He devoured the remainder, then dabbed his mouth with an embroidered napkin.

“Interesting.” The prince sniffed dismissively while eyeing the remaining burgers across the courtyard.

The wooden doors creaked open. Zhao Lian hurried across the courtyard, her formal robes rustling against the stones. She dropped into a deep bow before the prince.

“Your Highness, please forgive our humble accommodations.” She turned to Tajin with a graceful nod. “Sir Min, welcome to Lin Manor.” She bowed to the prince again. “Your Highness, would you prefer to continue this discussion inside?”

“Absolutely not!” The prince sprawled on his seat, leaning back on its two rear legs and balancing himself while pointing at Feng Yu. “I wish to hear what fascinating tales float through these common gatherings.”

Xiulan’s head spun, and not just from the wine.

The prince’s moods shifted like quicksilver—disdain to curiosity to calculated interest. His true intentions remained maddeningly unclear.

Did he support House Chao? House Min? His gaze kept sliding toward Feng Yu, who maintained perfect composure throughout the exchange, face expressionless as a marble statue despite the prince’s obvious provocations.

Feng Yu finally cracked and moved so swiftly Xiulan thought she was actually taking the prince’s head off. But she stopped near his ear.

“First, we routed an ancient beast and stole it’s most precious treasure. That child turned into our strength, burning our enemies with golden-wreathed fire until they were nothing but ash… just like they planned to do with us,” she whispered loudly enough for those nearby to hear.

Liuhuo’s head emerged from her sleeve as if summoned and let out a warning hiss toward the prince’s cheek.

Prince Hao swallowed nervously. “Of course, it sounds terribly barbaric. I, for one, never had any love of fires, or anything to do with them. Everyone knows and remembers that, don’t they?”

Night Airs

The patterns of fate interweave like silk threads in moonlight—visible only to those who know where to look, yet binding all who touch them.
—Sage Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns

Xiulan directed servants to prepare the manor’s finest hall for Prince Hao. The prince’s theatrical complaints echoed through the corridors as he inspected every detail, from the jade-inlaid screens to the imported silk cushions. Each criticism rang hollow, delivered with practiced indifference rather than genuine displeasure. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d offered him the Imperial Palace itself—the complaints seemed more ritual than substance.

After the prince settled in, Xiulan met with Tajin, her mother, and Mei Chen in a private study. The scent of her mother’s tea wafted through the air as servants poured fresh cups.

Xiulan straightened her robes. “Why exactly am I under arrest?”

Tajin sipped his tea before setting the cup down with deliberate care. “Prince Hao serves as Lord Chao’s patron. For years, Chao has consolidated power throughout the region on behalf of the Ministry of Investigation.”

“So the prince intends to brand me a rogue cultivator?” Xiulan’s fingers tightened around her teacup.

“Not quite.” Tajin shook his head. “Initially, I believe he planned to negotiate—your innocence in exchange for Lord Chao’s release. But...”

“But?” Xiulan prompted, studying Tajin’s measured expression.

“Your ‘friend’ likely terrified him. Combined with such a decisive victory...” Tajin adjusted his turquoise robes. “Tell me truthfully—did you actually sever Lord Chao’s legs?”

“Yes.” Xiulan sipped her tea without hesitation.

A slight smile tugged at Tajin’s lips. “That could have been a rash decision, but it serves you well now. Lord Chao will be useless to the prince. He’ll likely discard him and relieve you of charges.”

Zhao Lian set down her cup. “There are many matters requiring attention.” She glanced at Xiulan. “Perhaps you should check on Feng Yu? She seemed upset earlier.”

“This meeting is important.” Xiulan frowned at the suggestion.

“You’ll be leaving soon. There’s no need to become more entangled here.” Zhao Lian smoothed her robes. “You should seek your own path.”

“When did you speak with Master Qingfeng?” Xiulan’s eyes narrowed.

“Only briefly.” Zhao Lian looked at Mei Chen. “You both must do your best. I’ll handle House Lin’s affairs—you needn’t worry.”

“I’m not certain I care if House Lin survives.” Xiulan stared into her teacup.

The sentiment settled cold and hard in her chest. The Lin name meant nothing to her—just empty characters devoid of significance. Only Zhang Wei and her mother stirred any warmth in her heart.

A sharp crack split the silence. Through a half-open door, Zhang Wei stood frozen, his wooden practice sword clattering against the floor. His small hands balled into tight fists before he spun and bolted down the hallway.

“Ah, fuck.” Xiulan pushed back from the table.

“That was not ideal nor proper to say, Xiulan.” Zhao Lian’s shoulders tensed beneath her silk robes.

“Yes, Mother, I shouldn’t have said that.” Xiulan rubbed her temples. “I’m afraid he’ll misunderstand...”

“I’ll speak with Lady Lian while you attend to the young lord.” Tajin adjusted his turquoise sleeves.

Xiulan strode into the hallway with Mei Chen shadowing her steps. The corridors stretched empty in both directions without a trace of Zhang Wei.

“This way.” Mei Chen tugged Xiulan’s sleeve and pointed toward the ceiling.

“The attic?”

Mei Chen nodded. “He’s up there.”

Of course she can sense him. Xiulan located the ladder and climbed into the musty space above to find Zhang Wei huddled in the corner, arms wrapped tight around his knees.

She crawled through the attic, fresh sawdust coating her palms and knees. Shafts of lantern light pierced through gaps in the floor boards, illuminating dancing motes in the air. Zhang Wei pressed himself further into the shadowed corner as she approached.

“Are you going to chase me down and kill me too?” Zhang Wei’s words cut through the dusty air.

“Of course not.” Xiulan sat cross-legged on the rough wooden boards. “I just want to talk.”

“You’ve talked enough.” Zhang Wei turned away. “And done too much already.”

Xiulan took a deep breath. “When Madam Zhang and the others tortured Mei Chen, something broke inside me. They’d already tried to kill me multiple times. I couldn’t let them hurt anyone else I cared about.”

“But Father—”

“Father stood by while they did horrible things. He knew about the poison attempts. He watched them hurt you.” Xiulan brushed sawdust from her sleeve. “I only truly care about you and Mother. The rest of House Lin meant nothing compared to keeping you both safe.”

Zhang Wei uncurled slightly, though he still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You didn’t have to kill them all.”

“Maybe not.” Xiulan shifted closer. “I’d do anything to protect you and Mother—even become a monster in everyone else’s eyes.”

Zhang Wei’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though anger still tightened his jaw. He picked at a splinter in the floorboard. “I don’t hate you. But I want you to leave.”

Xiulan settled onto the dusty floor, crossing her legs beneath her. “I’ll be leaving soon, Wei. I’ll visit when I can to check on you and Mother, but I won’t stay here anymore.”

Tears welled up in Zhang Wei’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks. “Why? If you’re just going to go like that, why?”

A soft blue glow illuminated the dim attic as Mei Chen’s spiritual form drifted up through the floorboards, casting dancing shadows across the wooden beams.

Young Master Wei! Mei Chen’s spirit circled Zhang Wei in playful spirals, her essence pulsing with a gentle radiance.

“I have to go with Mei Chen.” Xiulan gestured toward the floating spirit. “She really did die. We need special training to preserve her spirit properly.”

Zhang Wei rubbed his eyes, staring at Mei Chen’s spirit orb form. “I don’t understand... but...” He sniffled. “I hope you both end up okay.”

“Me too.” Xiulan’s shoulders slumped. “Things should calm down here once we’re gone. Less violence. Less death.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

They descended the ladder in silence. Zhang Wei trudged toward his room without looking back.

In the hallway, Xiulan spotted Mei Chen’s physical form sprawled on the floor.

“Mei Chen! You can’t just leave your body lying around like that.”

The spirit swooped down sheepishly and merged back into the corpse; a moment later, Mei Chen’s eyes fluttered open as Xiulan helped her stand.

“I need to speak with Feng Yu.” Xiulan straightened Mei Chen’s robes.

“Miss?”

“Could you prepare our room for sleep? I’d like some privacy for this conversation.”

“Of course, miss!” Mei Chen smiled brightly and bowed.

After a brief search, Xiulan found Feng Yu sitting alone by the ruined fish pond, its dry basin cracked and empty beneath the manor walls. A half-empty wine jug sat beside her on the weathered stones. Dead leaves skittered across the barren ground where koi once swam.

“Are you busy?” Xiulan approached.

Feng Yu lifted the wine jug and laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the garden walls. “No. Want to share a drink?”

“Of course.” Xiulan settled onto a smooth rock beside her companion. The stone felt cool through her robes as she tilted her head back. Stars dotted the evening sky, twinkling through wisps of cloud.

“So?” Feng Yu’s question cut through the night air.

“So what?”

“You should know what I mean.” The words spilled from Feng Yu in a despondent tone, barely above a whisper.

Xiulan shook her head. “I don’t.” She took a sip from the wine jug. “Aren’t you weak to alcohol? For a moment I thought you’d lose your head for disrespecting the prince and not kowtowing properly! Thankfully, he’s fickle and blind.”

Feng Yu blinked rapidly. “You... you’re not...?”

Xiulan leaned back, letting her hair cascade over Feng Yu’s leg as she stared up at the star-filled sky. “I’m not what? A good sister? A good daughter? I’m probably the worst.”

The moonlight caught Feng Yu’s amber eyes, making them glow brighter than the moon above. Xiulan’s breath caught at the intensity of that gaze bearing down on her.

“I... I...” Feng Yu stammered.

Xiulan reached up and pressed her palm against Feng Yu’s cheek, the skin warm beneath her touch. “Need to say something? You don’t. Not to me. I’m just here to support my sister when she needs it.”

Feng Yu parted her lips, hesitated, then lifted her gaze to the stars scattered across the inky sky. “My mother died in a fire.” The words fell soft yet sharp into the night air. “They meant to kill me too, but I turned out to be... special.” She traced circles on the weathered stone. “When the building burned, everyone who loved me burned with it. No one remained to care.”

Xiulan squeezed Feng Yu’s hand. “You survived. That shows incredible strength.”

Silence settled between them like a comfortable blanket. From the manor, muted voices and occasional laughter drifted through the garden as the celebration wound down. Guards called out the watch changes while servants extinguished lanterns one by one.

Something cool and smooth slithered across Xiulan’s forehead. Her eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the intruder. “Liuhuo!”

Feng Yu glanced down at Xiulan and burst into bright laughter. The small serpent coiled into a neat spiral atop Xiulan’s head, scales gleaming in the starlight.

“There’s a snake on my head!” Xiulan stared upward, frozen in place.

“He likes treats,” Feng Yu said, her eyes twinkling with amusement as Liuhuo remained coiled.

“I don’t—” Xiulan paused, feeling the serpent’s cool scales against her scalp. “I don’t have any treats. What does a spiritual beast even eat?”

“Little pieces of meat usually work.” Feng Yu stretched her arms above her head. “Since you lack proper bribes, you’ll need to wait for him to move.”

Liuhuo’s tongue flicked out, tasting the night air. A soft hiss of agreement echoed in the quiet garden.

Xiulan lifted her hand, extending one finger toward the serpent. She prodded his scales gently. The tiny dawn serpent responded by bumping his snout repeatedly against her fingertip.

“Hey!” Feng Yu straightened. “When I do that, you bite me! Why does she get special treatment?”

The serpent uncoiled from Xiulan’s head in a fluid motion. He darted back up Feng Yu’s leg and back to her hand. At her wrist, he wrapped himself into a tight spiral and settled in, pointedly ignoring her question.

“Are you trying to win?” Feng Yu twisted the wine jug between her palms.

Xiulan smiled, watching the moonlight dance across the empty pond. “I don’t think keeping score benefits either of us.”

“Because I’d win?” Feng Yu’s lips quirked upward.

“Because I want our relationship to stay pure.” Xiulan looked at her. “My family’s safety matters most—and that includes my martial sister. Keep your secrets until you’re ready. No pressure.”

Feng Yu exhaled deeply, shoulders dropping. “How can you not demand answers? Weren’t you angry when Liuhuo appeared without warning? A guardian spirit of this caliber...” She gestured at the serpent. “The odds are astronomical.”

“Hmm.” Xiulan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “By that logic, wouldn’t Mei Chen put me far ahead in our imaginary competition?”

Liuhuo released a strange hissing sound—almost like laughter—and flicked his tongue toward Feng Yu.

“You did not get ‘stuck’ with me!” Feng Yu jabbed her finger at the serpent.

The tiny golden dawn serpent lunged forward, clamping his teeth around her fingertip before beginning to gnaw.

Xiulan’s laughter echoed across the empty garden.

Far-flung Mission

The difference between wisdom and foolishness often lies not in our initial choices but in how we handle their unexpected outcomes. A wise person learns to navigate the chaos they create, while a fool drowns in it.
—Master Song Lin, Scholar of the Jade Path

The atmosphere of the execution grounds, the square in front of the city manor, was muted. Soldiers armed with spears stood at attention while the civilians gathered on the other side of the guard.

Xiulan watched Prince Hao draw his ornate sword, its polished surface catching the light. Lord Chao knelt on the wooden platform, hands bound behind his back.

“Lord Chao, your sentence is death.” Prince Hao’s voice rang clear across the courtyard.

Lord Chao lifted his chin. “Remember your promises.”

“I always keep my word.” Prince Hao adjusted his grip on the sword.

The blade whistled through the air. Lord Chao’s head thumped onto the ground, blood running between the cracks in the cobble. Prince Hao produced a silk cloth and methodically cleaned his blade before approaching Zhao Lian.

“I trust this settles matters?” His tone remained conversational, as if discussing the weather rather than a fresh execution.

“Provided the Chao family withdraws completely from Blackmere and ceases all pursuit against House Lin, yes.” Zhao Lian’s steady voice betrayed no emotion.

Prince Hao passed the bloodied cloth to Min Tajin with a dismissive flick. “Our business here is concluded.”

The morning breeze carried the metallic scent of blood across the square as Xiulan and Feng Yu observed Prince Hao’s departure. Curiously, he paused before Feng Yu, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“In a pit of vipers, a bird might think to fly free toward the heavens, but she’ll inevitably be torn down by those same vipers if she doesn’t fly fast enough.” His words cut through the air like ice, silencing the murmur of the crowd. “The ones who like to set feathers to flame might be spending time in Aeris. A certain bird might want to spend her time there instead of roaming the backwaters.”

The prince’s gaze shifted to Xiulan, lingering for a weighted moment. Without another word, he strode away, Min Tajin following in his wake. Her cousin offered a side wave without looking from the prince’s back.

Xiulan turned to Feng Yu as Prince Hao’s silhouette disappeared into the morning mist. “Did you understand his warning?”

“Yes.” Feng Yu adjusted her sleeve, sunlight glinting off the golden threads. “Have you decided between Aeris or Arinthia yet?”

“Mei Chen and I will go, but I haven’t chosen which,” Xiulan replied.

“I’m heading to Aeris.” Feng Yu straightened her back.

“Well, that settles it then. The three of us can travel together.”

“Four.” Ren Chun strode across the execution grounds toward them, careful to avoid the blood. “I need to join a school now that I have demonstrated my talent.”

Xiulan snorted. “Right. Maybe you just waited until you had an advantage? Were the entrance tests too difficult without leveling up first?”

“Leveling... up?” Ren Chun asked with a confused shake of his head. “I needed prestigious victories. Leading heroic warriors to save a noble family from mercenaries makes perfect credentials!”

“Are such deeds really required for school admission?” Xiulan furrowed her brow.

Feng Yu beamed. “Don’t worry—we defeated an ancient dawn serpent. That’s far more impressive.”

“Are you sure we defeated it?” Xiulan shot her a skeptical glance. “It seemed to lose interest and leave to avoid harming Liuhuo. I sort of wonder where it went after…”

“Pfft!” Feng Yu waved dismissively. “It fled from us. That counts as victory!”

Liuhuo appeared from under her collar and hissed at her chin. Someone didn’t agree.

“Ha!” Ren Chun crossed his arms. “Tell that story, and they’ll think you lack decisiveness!”

Okay, multiple someones.

“Doesn’t Bong Ki already teach you?” Xiulan brushed a stray leaf from her temple. “He might object to you joining another school.”

“Hong Bi.” Ren Chun emphasized each syllable with exaggerated patience. “And it’s expected for disciples to broaden their horizons. When a master sends their student to experience the world, joining a formal school follows naturally.”

Feng Yu shook her head, robes rustling. “Actually, that’s not universally true. Cultivation methods vary significantly between private instruction and formal institutions—”

Ren Chun cut in. “The traditional approach emphasizes individual growth through—”

Their voices faded into background noise as Xiulan spotted Mei Chen hovering behind. She reached back and gently captured Mei Chen’s waist, pulling her forward to stand alongside them.

“What do you think about all this?”

“Me... me, miss?” Mei Chen squeaked, fidgeting with her sleeve.

“Yes?”

“I’ll go wherever you go.” Mei Chen stared at the ground.

Xiulan studied her carefully. “You always agree with everything I say. Don’t you have your own thoughts on matters?”

Ren Chun and Feng Yu turned toward Mei Chen, their debate forgotten.

Mei Chen blinked in surprise and swallowed hard. “Well... Aeris sits closer to home than Arinthia. We could send messages to Auntie Lian more quickly from there.”

“Yes.” Xiulan smiled. “That’s true.”

Feng Yu spun toward Mei Chen, her amber eyes blazing with sudden intensity. “You need to be more assertive! Don’t let anyone walk all over you!”

Mei Chen yelped.

Xiulan suppressed a groan. Trust Feng Yu to bulldoze straight through any sense of tact or subtlety. The morning sun caught the nervous tremor in Mei Chen’s hands as she twisted her sleeves.

“Exactly!” Ren Chun planted his feet wide, gesturing emphatically. “Cultivators must always push forward. Stagnation and hesitation lead to weakness!”

“Um... um...” Mei Chen shrank back, her shoulders hunching inward.

A cool breeze rustled through her hair as Xiulan drew in a steadying breath. “Mei Chen, you’re brilliant and strong. If you’re content with how things are, that’s fine. But holding back your thoughts isn’t good for anyone. Being more assertive about sharing your opinion would help. You’re not a maid anymore.”

Mei Chen’s face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m... fired?”

Pure panic shot through Xiulan’s chest. “No! That’s not what I meant at all! You’re not fired—you’re just not a maid anymore. You’re a cultivator now, and a spirit. You’re not a servant, you’re... you’re...”

“She’s our new martial sister!” Feng Yu stepped between them, spreading her arms wide enough to capture both of them in a hug.

Mei Chen’s mouth dropped open. The morning sunlight caught the tears still glistening on her cheeks as she stared at Feng Yu.

Xiulan blinked rapidly. The declaration knocked the thoughts right out of her head.

Martial sister?

A sharp pain shot through Xiulan’s back as Feng Yu’s palm connected with enough force to make her stumble forward. “How can I not consider my younger martial sister’s childhood friend and close confidante as such? The three of us will go far!”

“Hey, what about me?” Ren Chun planted his feet wider, crossing his arms over his chest.

Feng Yu turned toward him with one elegant eyebrow raised. “I thought you were going for the title of grandpa or something?”

“Grand—grandpa!?” Red crept up Ren Chun’s neck. “I’m only a year older than you! How old do you think I am?”

“It’s not about age.” Feng Yu jabbed a finger toward his chest. “It’s about your behavior!”

Feng Yu detached and went after him directly. As their voices rose in pitch and volume, Xiulan seized her chance. She grabbed Mei Chen’s hand and pulled her toward the manor gates.

Escape!

Xiulan settled onto the meditation cushion beside Mei Chen in Master Qingfeng’s study, the familiar scent of sandalwood incense filling the air. Instead of beginning their usual routine, Qingfeng pulled a rolled parchment from his sleeve and extended it toward her.

“Master?” Xiulan accepted the scroll, noting the official seal.

“I have a mission for you to accomplish on your way from Blackmere.” Qingfeng straightened his robes.

Xiulan unrolled the parchment and her eyes widened at the contents. “A bounty? One thousand spirit stones for subjugating a wrathful spirit?” She traced the inked characters with her fingertip. “This seems far beyond our capabilities, even with Feng Yu and Ren Chun’s help.”

“The spirit slipped from an ancient soul prison that once contained it.” Qingfeng stroked his beard. “Though old, its power has waned considerably. A group of young cultivators should prove sufficient to prevent further harm to innocent people.”

“But why do you want us to do it?” Mei Chen spoke up.

Xiulan glanced at her companion. Yes! Good job speaking up, Mei Chen! The earlier encouragement was already working.

“I believe this will prove educational.” Qingfeng’s gaze settled on Mei Chen specifically. “Especially for you. It may demonstrate what a spirit could become.”

Xiulan frowned at the implication. “Isn’t that cruel to Mei Chen?”

“No, miss.” Mei Chen straightened her spine. “I would rather know what I’m fighting against. I don’t want to be blind to dangers.”

Well, that settled it then. Xiulan rolled the scroll carefully. “We’ll take the mission, Master Qingfeng.”

“Excellent. Now, both of you assume the lotus position.” Qingfeng lit another stick of sandalwood incense.

Xiulan suppressed a groan. Of course agreeing to hunt a dangerous spirit wouldn’t get them out of meditation practice. She straightened her back and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as Qingfeng’s measured voice guided them through the familiar routine.

An hour later, Xiulan’s legs felt cramped as she descended the pavilion stairs with Mei Chen. Of course, they weren’t really cramped, she didn’t get cramps as a cultivator any more, but the mental damage was still there.

Movement in the courtyard caught her attention—a flurry of activity as servants scurried about with boxes and parcels. Wei Kang stood shirtless in their midst, ritual scars gleaming as he hoisted a towering stack of crates over his head. The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed with each movement.

Was he… showing off?

Xiulan tore her gaze away and spotted Ming Lihua directing the organized chaos. She steered Mei Chen toward the senior merchandiser.

“What’s all this about?”

“Oh!” Ming’s usual composure slipped. “Master Qingfeng plans to travel soon. We’re just preparing the necessities.”

Xiulan exchanged a meaningful look with Mei Chen. “How often does Master Qingfeng usually travel?”

Ming avoided eye contact and released a weak laugh. “I... can’t actually recall the last time...”

Unease prickled along Xiulan’s spine. Something felt very wrong about this.

She thanked Ming and guided Mei Chen toward the manor gates. They needed to speak with Feng Yu and Ren Chun—there were preparations to make before departing.

Upon explaining the assignment, Xiulan watched their reactions unfold with growing disbelief.

Ren Chun thrust his fist skyward. “This will guarantee our acceptance as high-ranking outer disciples! No questions asked!”

Feng Yu turned toward Xiulan. “Master Qingfeng truly believes we can accomplish this?”

“He suggested Mei Chen and I ask for your help.” Xiulan gestured between them. “The location lies along the route to Aeris.”

A bright laugh burst from Feng Yu as she mirrored Ren Chun’s pose, raising her own fist. “We’ll be recognized instantly for our prowess!”

Mei Chen sidled closer to Xiulan, her breath tickling Xiulan’s ear. “Perhaps we should reconsider? Ming Lihua or the mercenaries might—”

“What?” Feng Yu’s enthusiastic expression froze as she stared at them. “This is a perfect opportunity!”

Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two must have come from the same cultivator hero fabrication line or something.”

“A... what?” Ren Chun’s face scrunched in confusion.

“No amount of karma could have engineered my association with you two.” Xiulan rubbed her temples. “How did this even happen?”

Feng Yu laughed and wrapped her arm around Xiulan’s shoulders. “You inherited the luck of the heavens, obviously! Isn’t your secret grandpa the ‘Thunder God’ or something like that?”

Xiulan groaned. Now even her sarcastic naming conventions were causing her grief!

Tracking Spirit

Xiulan adjusted the straps of her travel pack as dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of amber and rose. The cobblestones of Blackmere’s main street opened wide for their small group. Mei Chen walked close beside her, while Feng Yu and Ren Chun bickered about optimal travel formations a few paces ahead.

“We should maintain a diamond pattern,” Ren Chun insisted, sketching shapes in the air. “Maximum coverage for detecting threats.”

“A linear formation provides better mobility and speed.” Feng Yu pointed toward the distant mountains.

Xiulan breathed in the crisp morning air, savoring the familiar scents of fresh bread from nearby bakeries. Their departure drew curious onlookers—merchants setting up stalls paused their work to watch, while early risers whispered behind raised hands.

“Xiulan.” Mei Chen tugged at her sleeve, pointing toward a shadowy alley. “Someone watches.”

The group paused.

Ming Lihua emerged from the darkness, carrying a small wooden box. “A parting gift.” She pressed the container into Xiulan’s hands. “Extra talismans for emergencies.”

Xiulan stowed the box in her pack. “Thank you, Ming. I hope we see you again.”

Ming nodded, then slipped a small golden necklace out of her robe and offered it to Mei Chen. “This is from Master Qingfeng. He said to tell you this one is removable… by anyone.”

Mei Chen accepted it with a nod then slid it around her neck. There was a small wash of cool air that disappeared after a second… and that was all.

“Thank you,” she said. “Tell Master Qingfeng I appreciate his help.”

Ming nodded.

Xiulan thanked her again, and then the group was on its way once more. The extra weight in her pack didn’t settle her nerves; if anything, the box made her more anxious. If the talismans were a gift… they would probably need them. The journey to Aeris would be another test.

“If you two are done arguing about formations,” Xiulan said, “we should reach the foothill path before the merchants’ caravans clog the roads.”

Feng Yu and Ren Chun fell silent, falling into step beside her as they approached the city gates. The guards snapped to attention, pulling the heavy doors wide.

Xiulan led them out of Blackmere’s gates and onto the packed dirt road. The morning carts were already lurching to a start to enter the city and deliver the precious rebuilding supplies.

The morning dew dampened their boots as they walked through patches of long grass beside the path, merchants’ carts rattling past.

Once they were out of the rush, Ren Chun walked ahead, scanning the tree line. Feng Yu kept pace behind him while maintaining a careful distance.

Mei Chen sniffed the air and glanced over her shoulder. “Three merchants following us. They smell of silk and tea leaves.”

“Just traders headed to the mountain markets.” Xiulan adjusted her pack straps. The familiar weight of Severing Light pressed against her shoulder, its presence reassuring as they left the city’s protection behind.

The sun climbed higher as they walked, burning away the morning mist. After a few hours Xiulan pulled out her water skin, taking a measured sip before passing it to Mei Chen.

She breathed in the fresh mountain air as their group followed the well-worn path skirting the foothills. Wildflowers dotted the grasslands in splashes of purple and gold, their petals dancing in the gentle breeze.

“These mountain lilies smell like peaches.” Mei Chen crouched beside a patch of pink blooms.

“Those are clearly dawn roses.” Feng Yu crossed her arms. “The petal structure is completely different.”

“I can smell better than you.” Mei Chen stood, pointing at the flowers. “Mountain lilies have a sweet scent like Xiulan. Dawn roses smell like morning dew.” Mei Chen glanced at Feng Yu. “If you like her, you should at least know what she smells like!”

Xiulan blinked. What?

Feng Yu’s cheeks heated up and hurried down the path.

Did Mei Chen just rout Feng Yu?

They had been encouraging her to speak up, but… Seeing their fiery companion run away with red cheeks wasn’t an expected outcome.

Ren Chun looked just as perplexed as Xiulan felt as Feng Yu marched past him and to the front of the line.

Mei Chen let out a pleased sound before coming over to claim Xiulan’s arm.

Xiulan raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”

Mei Chen smiled. “Miss! Today’s really nice.”

“Did you absorb some cat qi or something?” Xiulan chuckled.

Mei Chen tilted her head. “I’m still mostly yin and water!”

“That’s not—” Xiulan shook her head. “Nevermind. Yes, it’s a nice day.”

They continued on. The road avoided going up into the mountains, preferring to stay at the foot and wind around them. They didn’t take a break at noon to eat—none of them needed it.

Later that afternoon, they came upon a merchant’s wagon, its wheel trapped in a deep rut. The scene triggered a memory for Xiulan: mud sucking at her boots as she helped free a similar cart from Blackmere’s notorious swamp roads. Ren Chun had watched from the sidelines then.

Now, he sprinted toward the stuck wagon without hesitation. “We need to lift while turning the wheel!” He positioned himself exactly as Xiulan had done, utilizing the most basic horse stance taught by Master Qingfeng.

The wagon rolled free, its merchant bowing repeatedly in thanks.

Maybe Ren Chun was capable of learning after all?

They reached a roadside tea house as the sun reached the horizon. The wooden structure offered welcome shelter, and the scent of steamed buns wafted through its open windows. Inside, worn tables hosted travelers sharing tales over steaming cups of jasmine tea.

“The soup smells wonderful.” Mei Chen inhaled deeply as they settled at a corner table.

“Everything smells wonderful to you lately.” Feng Yu smiled, picking up the menu.

Mei Chen hummed in response.

After ordering, a server placed steaming bowls of fragrant noodles before them.

“Did you hear about the Fang family’s cattle?” a merchant at the next table said between slurps of soup. “Found nothing but bones, picked clean.”

Xiulan paused with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

“That’s nothing,” another merchant added. “Three hunters vanished near White Pine Valley. Their camp looked like something massive tore through it.”

“The trees, too.” The first merchant leaned forward. “Whole trunks split open like something clawed right through them.”

Xiulan pulled the bounty scroll from her pack, spreading it carefully on the table between their bowls.

“Missing people.” Xiulan tapped the scroll. “Destroyed property.”

“Just like Master Qingfeng’s mission parameters.” Feng Yu spoke quietly.

Mei Chen nodded nervously.

The next two days brought an eerie silence to the mountain paths. Xiulan watched travelers hurry past with downcast eyes, their steps quick and nervous. No one stopped to trade news or share meals. Each day felt like they were growing closer to the source of the rumors… and their target.

Every crackle of branches in the forest made Ren Chun’s hand drift to his sword. Feng Yu maintained a constant flame ready in her palm, while Mei Chen sniffed the air so frequently she reminded Xiulan of a nervous rabbit.

The third day’s sunset painted the sky blood-red. Xiulan adjusted Severing Light across her back as they rounded another bend in the road.

Mei Chen stopped abruptly. “Something pulses beneath the earth.” She pointed into the darkening forest. “The qi feels wrong—twisted and angry.”

Xiulan studied the dense undergrowth. Master Qingfeng knew Mei Chen would sense it. That’s why he gave us this mission. We’d have run into it anyway.

“Perhaps you should stay here.” Feng Yu stepped closer to Mei Chen. “Your spiritual form might be vulnerable to it.”

“No.” Mei Chen squared her shoulders. “Master Qingfeng wanted me to see this. To understand what happens when wrathful spirits lose control.” She touched the safety seal at her neck. “I need to witness it.”

“We’ll protect you.” Ren Chun moved to flank Mei Chen’s other side. “All of us.”

Xiulan drew Severing Light and took point. Behind her, Feng Yu summoned a brilliant orb of flame that cast dancing shadows through the trees. They left the road behind, venturing into the darkening forest where ancient pines creaked in the late evening wind.

Xiulan stepped over fallen logs covered in phosphorescent fungi that cast an eerie blue glow across the forest floor. The twisted qi signature pulsed stronger the deeper they pushed into the woods, broken branches and deep gouges in tree trunks marking their quarry’s path of destruction.

“The scent grows stronger.” Mei Chen pointed northeast. “Like rotting meat mixed with lightning.”

Xiulan ducked under a low-hanging branch. “At least it’s not trying to hide.”

The trail led them to a rocky outcropping where the mountain’s granite bones thrust through the soil. Deep claw marks scored the stone, leading upward toward—

“Of course it’s a cave.” Xiulan sighed heavily. “Because apparently every monster thinks caves make the perfect evil lair.”

Feng Yu’s flame orb illuminated the jagged entrance. “Perhaps they enjoy the dramatic atmosphere.”

“Or the excellent acoustics for terrifying screams.” Xiulan pulled out a talisman. “Mei Chen, can you sense how deep it goes?”

“Two chambers connected by long narrow paths.” Mei Chen closed her eyes. “The qi concentrates in the furthest one.”

Ren Chun unsheathed his sword. “We should establish a formation before entering.”

Xiulan lowered Severing Light, studying the cave entrance. “I’ve only been the center position in formations before.”

“I haven’t participated in any.” Mei Chen fidgeted with her safety seal.

Feng Yu traced a glowing pattern in the air. “Standard formation arrays channel and amplify qi through elemental resonance. Each position feeds energy to strengthen the whole.”

“The elements flow in a specific order.” Ren Chun drew a circle in the dirt. “Wood feeds fire. Fire creates earth. Earth produces metal. Metal enriches water. Water nourishes wood.”

“Like the cycle of seasons.” Feng Yu pointed to each position. “My fire techniques would strengthen Ren Chun’s earth abilities.”

Xiulan watched Mei Chen study the diagram intently. The ghostly cultivator tilted her head, processing the information.

“But what about opposing elements?” Mei Chen crouched beside the dirt drawing. “Water extinguishes fire.”

“Exactly.” Ren Chun nodded. “Incorrect positioning creates destructive interference. The formation collapses.”

“With our abilities...” Feng Yu traced new connections. “I command fire. Ren Chun wields earth and water. Mei Chen focuses on water. Xiulan can channel all five.”

“And the multiplier effect?” Mei Chen sniffed at the glowing patterns.

“A properly aligned four-person array amplifies the anchor’s power sixfold.” Feng Yu sketched additional symbols. “With our elemental spread, we could achieve significant resonance.”

Xiulan studied the formation etched in the dirt. The interconnected lines of qi flow reminded her of a circuit diagram. “I’ll take wood position. It’s the only configuration that maintains balance.” She pointed to the center. “Ren Chun will need to anchor.”

Mei Chen bounced on her toes, pointing at each person in turn. “Water for me.” Her finger moved to Xiulan. “Wood.” To Feng Yu. “Fire.” Finally to Ren Chun. “Earth.”

“Exactly.” Feng Yu traced the connections in glowing qi. “A full circle would provide more power, but we lack a fifth member.”

Ren Chun nodded. “The terminated formation limits us to earth-based techniques. A circle would allow us to pass control between members.”

“True.” Feng Yu drew additional symbols. “That level of coordination requires extensive training together, though. Most teams spend years perfecting the transitions.”

Xiulan shifted her grip on Severing Light. “If they counter Ren Chun’s earth with wood techniques, we’ll need to break formation.”

“Then we pivot to support my fire.” Feng Yu nodded decisively. “Ren Chun and Mei Chen can combine water to boost your wood output. That feeds my flames—”

“And burns through their defenses.” Ren Chun stood, brushing dirt from his knees. “Good plan.”

Xiulan shifted her weight, gripping Severing Light tighter. “I should mention—I haven’t practiced much with elemental qi. My wood element will be particularly weak.”

Feng Yu shook her head. “Your contribution matters less than maintaining the flow.”

Xiulan nodded, but doubt gnawed at her. Despite her balance, she’d focused primarily on working with yin and yang and just… pure output through her meridians.

“Can you show me how it works?” Mei Chen asked.

Feng Yu and Ren Chun nodded.

“We’ll make a two person array,” Feng Yu said. Golden threads of qi stretched out of her palm toward Ren Chun who caught it in his own hand. “Channel your energy like this.”

Mei Chen copied the movements perfectly. A cool stream of water-aspected qi flowed from her right toward—

Xiulan caught it with a sharp intake of breath. The qi formed a connection, and she threaded it into her qi flow like an IV needle. “Hey, be careful! I wasn’t expecting that.

Mei Chen grinned sheepishly. “Then you’d have gotten wet.”

Oh, heaven’s above, she’d encouraged this! Not that Mei Chen’s shifting behavior was bad… Xiulan glanced at Feng Yu and Ren Chun and narrowed her eyes. Both of them blinked at her in confusion.

She didn’t need them to encourage certain heroic traits while Mei Chen was finding her new footing.

Xiulan turned her focus to the energy, pulling together trembling strands of wood qi and combining them with the water essence before passing the flow towards Feng Yu. The transfer felt clumsy, like trying to pour water through a sieve.

Feng Yu accepted the energy smoothly, transforming it into brilliant ribbons of fire qi that streamed effortlessly to Ren Chun. The formation pulsed and the thrum of earth qi in the air intensified dramatically.

The cave let out an angry rush of cool air.

Ah, yes, the wrathful spirit sensed they were right outside…

Four little lambs to the slaughter.

“Let’s deal with this thing and then get out of here,” Xiulan said.

The others nodded and they formed a tight circle, weapons ready.

Wrathful Spirit

In every ending lies the seed of a new beginning, though we may not live to see it bloom. This is the eternal dance of existence—to plant gardens whose flowers will grace tomorrow’s dawn.
—Sage Master Wei Huang, Keeper of the First Flame

Feng Yu’s flame orb cast dancing shadows across the damp cave walls, the soft glow illuminating patches of luminescent moss clinging to the rough stone surface. Xiulan inhaled the musty underground air, tasting minerals and decay on her tongue.

Ren Chun led the formation, his earth qi resonating with the surrounding stone. The rock seemed to part before them, revealing stable footing amid treacherous ground. Each step echoed in the confined space despite their careful movements.

Something rolled beneath Xiulan’s foot. She stumbled forward, colliding with Feng Yu’s back.

Looking down, bleached white bone gleamed in the firelight—a human femur. Mei Chen pressed in closer from behind, hand claiming a section of cloth from Xiulan’s robe.

The passage opened into a wider chamber. Feng Yu’s flame revealed more scattered bones across the floor, piled against walls, arranged in grotesque tableaus. Ribs jutted from the dirt like macabre fence posts; skulls gazed with empty sockets from crude pyramids of bone.

Their formation tightened instinctively, shoulders brushing as they navigated the narrow corridor beyond the bone chamber. The rough stone walls pressed close along with waves of frigid qi. Glowing motes of yin energy drifted through the air like spectral fireflies, casting an eerie blue-white illumination through the cave.

The narrow passage opened into a circular chamber carved from ice. Xiulan’s breath caught.

A luminescent figure hovered near the ceiling, her impossibly long hair winding around the chamber multiple times like frozen ribbons. Below her, a crude stone altar held scattered human remains as she frantically attempted to piece together a skeleton from mismatched parts.

“Ugh.” Feng Yu recoiled beside her.

Xiulan pulled her sleeve across her nose. The frozen air had masked most of the stench, but the putrid smell of decay still permeated the chamber.

“We found the wrathful spirit...” Ren Chun shifted into a defensive stance.

“What is she doing?” Xiulan studied the spirit’s desperate movements.

“Evil things!” Ren Chun gripped his weapon tighter.

The spectral woman wailed, her ethereal hands trembling as bone fragments slipped through her grasp and tears of yin energy streamed down her translucent face.

A flicker in the formation’s energy drew Xiulan’s attention. She turned to find Mei Chen staring at the scene with wide, haunted eyes.

“She’s trying to bring back her husband,” Mei Chen whispered.

The wrathful spirit’s head snapped up, milky eyes fixing on their group. An otherworldly shriek pierced the chamber, sending vibrations through Xiulan’s bones. The spirit’s hair writhed like serpents, spreading outward in threatening tendrils as frost crackled across the walls.

Xiulan sensed the surge of earth qi around them as Ren Chun traced a complex pattern in the air. The density of spiritual energy thickened, creating a protective barrier.

“She’s been a spirit for thousands of years at least!” Feng Yu shouted over the howling wind. “Her husband’s been dead longer than that!”

The spirit’s form twisted in rage. Spears of ice materialized from the frigid air, launching toward them in a deadly barrage. Chunks of stone ripped free from the floor, intercepting the ice projectiles in an explosive collision, sending crystalline shards and rocky debris raining down in a glittering cloud of dust and ice.

Xiulan blinked against the stinging particles, the dust obscuring her vision until she could barely see her own hands. Only Mei Chen’s small fingers gripping her sleeve anchored her in the chaos as the other girl pressed against her side. A familiar touch found her forearm—Feng Yu’s hand sliding down to grasp her fingers tightly.

“Don’t lose track of each other!” Ren Chun’s voice cut through the maelstrom.

The array wavered as the supernatural wind tore at their clothes and hair, threatening to separate them in the blinding storm.

Understanding blazed through Xiulan’s mind like lightning: earth qi anchored and modulated wind. It was a weird thought that wasn’t entirely relevant to her channeling the wood qi to Feng Yu.

Ren Chun’s earth qi surged outward, taming the supernatural storm. The dust settled, revealing empty space where the wrathful spirit had been. A perfect circular hole punctured the ceiling, tunneling straight up into the mountain’s heart.

“It’s escaping!” Feng Yu pointed toward the dark shaft above.

The chamber’s icy walls began to melt, sending rivulets of water cascading down the stone. Chunks of rotting flesh twitched and rolled across the floor, animated by some dark power.

A piece of meat lurched toward her and Mei Chen. Xiulan gripped Severing Light one-handed, stabbing through the writhing flesh and flicking it away. Their elemental array shattered with an audible crack.

“Well, that didn’t last long. What the fuck,” Xiulan muttered. She sensed water qi building inside of her and attempted to channel wood qi to do something… useful. Unlike the intuitive yin-yang shifts she’d practiced, nothing clicked. The gathered energy dissipated uselessly.

Her connection to Mei Chen broke.

Heat exploded outward as flames erupted around them. Feng Yu’s fire spread in an expanding circle, incinerating the animated flesh, the intense heat driving back the supernatural cold.

“Forget the array. We can’t let it escape!” Ren Chun shouted over the crackling flames.

Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s sleeve. “The tunnel leads to the mountain peak!”

Ren Chun launched himself upward, his qi propelling him toward the dark shaft. Earth qi surged through the tunnel walls, brick-like protrusions erupting in a spiraling pattern. He bounded from foothold to foothold, disappearing into the darkness above.

“Wait, you fool!” Feng Yu’s shout echoed off the chamber walls. “We need to stay together!”

Ren Chun’s footsteps faded into silence.

Feng Yu cursed and turned to Xiulan and Mei Chen. “Stay together. We can’t split up.”

Fire blazed around Feng Yu as she leaped toward the tunnel, following Ren Chun’s path upward. The orange glow of her flames diminished until only darkness remained.

Xiulan stared at the black void above. So much for planning. She shouldn’t have expected better from their group of young, headstrong idiots!

A few half-burnt pieces of flesh still twitched across the chamber floor.

Her gaze shifted to Mei Chen. If she went into her spirit form, it would be easy enough for her to go up. But for Xiulan to do so while carrying Mei Chen’s body... That would be harder. Leaving it behind amid the animated decay wasn’t an option.

“Miss?” Mei Chen’s voice quavered.

“What do you want to do?”

Mei Chen pressed against Xiulan’s side. “I’m afraid. I heard everything she screamed, even if you couldn’t.”

“What?” Xiulan’s muscles tensed.

Arms wrapped around her waist as Mei Chen buried her face in Xiulan’s robes. “I’m sorry.”

Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s back, her mind racing. Why the fuck did Qingfeng send us here?

Mei Chen straightened abruptly, tugging at Xiulan’s sleeve with trembling fingers. “Miss, wait—it’s a trick!”

“What?” Xiulan pivoted toward the tunnel entrance.

“She’ll return. The spirit didn’t flee—she tried to draw us away from here, from her husband.” Mei Chen pointed toward the scattered bones. “She wants to protect what remains.”

“What husband?” Xiulan scanned the bone fragments littering the chamber floor.

Mei Chen shuffled forward, indicating a particular bone that pulsed with a faint, ethereal glow. “That single immortal bone. It’s all that survived.”

She sniffled. “She’s spent millennia attempting to restore him. They were trapped for a long time. Both of them have faded so much. I couldn’t understand everything, but their story breaks my heart.”

“Pretty sure we don’t have time for a tragic ten-chapter flashback right now.” Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light.

Crystal tears sparkled with spiritual energy as they rolled down Mei Chen’s cheeks. “If you die, I won’t try to bring you back.”

Xiulan blinked, running gentle fingers through Mei Chen’s hair. “That’s fine. Instead, you can discover what brings you joy and share stories about what reminds you of me when you want to remember.”

Mei Chen shuddered against her, refusing to release her grip.

“Mei.” Xiulan kissed Mei’s cool forehead gently. “While I appreciate discussing my hypothetical death, I’d rather focus on staying alive. We should prepare some sort of trap before she returns.”

Mei Chen stepped back, staring up at Xiulan with wide, glistening eyes, and nodded.

Xiulan pulled her pack off her shoulder, the leather straps catching briefly on her robe. The talismans Ming gave us might actually be useful here.

She rifled through the contents, pushing aside packets of medicinal powder and cultivation pills. The stack of talismans glowed faintly in the dim light—barrier formations traced in black ink alongside the more numerous object repair scripts meant for Mei Chen.

“These barrier talismans should work against spiritual entities.” Xiulan handed the stack to Mei Chen. “Place them around the chamber in a containment pattern.”

Mei Chen darted off into the shadows, her footsteps light against the frost-covered stone. The soft rustle of paper and whisper of spiritual energy marked her progress around the chamber’s perimeter.

Xiulan turned to the grotesque bone display. She cleared away the scattered remains, leaving only the immortal bone untouched in the center. It pulsed, casting strange shadows across the chamber floor.

Something’s not right about this. Xiulan studied the bone from different angles without touching it. If this bone means so much to the spirit, why leave it behind? Unless...

A chill that had nothing to do with the chamber’s supernatural cold ran down her spine.

It must be trapped. No spirit this obsessed would abandon their treasure without protection.

“I have it done!” Mei Chen’s excited shout echoed off the chamber walls as she bounded back to Xiulan’s side.

Xiulan studied the chamber, calculating their options. “You’ll need to control the ice when she returns. We can’t rely on earth techniques here—it’ll have to be water-water cancellation rather than water-earth control.”

“I can manage it for a little while.” Mei Chen fidgeted with the safety seal at her neck. “But if I removed—”

“Stop right there.” Xiulan captured Mei Chen’s hand and held it still. “That’s strictly last-resort territory,” she said. “We don’t want you draining your power or getting hurt.” She met Mei Chen’s eyes with stern intensity. “Remember what Master Qingfeng said? That path leads straight to becoming like our friend up there.”

Mei Chen pulled her hand free, crossed her arms, and frowned. “I’m not stupid. I listened to everything he taught us.”

A grin spread across Xiulan’s face as she patted Mei Chen’s arm. “If you’d said that a week ago, I would’ve sworn you were possessed!”

Pink tinged Mei Chen’s pale cheeks. “I just... it was...” She stammered, looking down at her feet.

A frigid gust swept through the chamber from the entrance tunnel, carrying the sharp scent of supernatural frost. Xiulan raised Severing Light.

“Quiet. I think she’s coming back.”

Xiulan pressed the last barrier talisman against the cold stone behind the glowing bone. Her qi flowed into the paper, igniting the inked inscription lines with spiritual power. She grabbed Mei Chen’s wrist and pulled her toward the chamber wall, pressing them both flat against the frozen surface.

An invisibility technique would be really useful right about now. Xiulan held her breath as snowflakes swirled into the chamber like crystalline dancers.

The wrathful spirit entered with a second rush of supernatural frost. She flew straight to the bone, ethereal hands reaching for her treasure. The barrier flashed brilliant white, repelling her palms.

The screech of rage echoed off the chamber walls.

“Now!” Xiulan’s shout pierced the frigid air.

Spiritual energy surged as Xiulan activated her share of the barrier talismans. Mei Chen’s qi ignited the remaining scripts.

Webs of white light erupted from the glowing papers, intersecting and connecting in complex patterns. The barrier contracted inward, trapping the spirit in a shrinking cage of light.

The spirit’s piercing shriek assaulted Xiulan’s ears. Spectral hands clawed at the barrier while tendrils of frozen hair whipped against it.

Unfortunately, the barrier didn’t contain the ability to manipulate the qi already inside the chamber. Spears of ice materialized around them, launching toward Xiulan and Mei Chen in deadly volleys.

Mei Chen thrust both hands forward. The supernatural cold twisted away from them like water around stones in a stream, ice shattering against the chamber walls instead of their bodies.

Yang energy blazed through Xiulan’s meridians as she channeled it into Severing Light, the blade glowing with increasing intensity until it rivaled Feng Yu’s flames. She cleared the distance to the center of the chamber in a single zig-zag with Heavenly Two-Step.

“Yin Spirit Seeking Strike!” Xiulan lunged forward, driving Severing Light through the barrier. Though the blade stopped short of the spirit’s form, yang energy leaped from the weapon. Lightning-like tendrils of power arced through the air, striking the trapped spirit.

The spirit weathered the attack better than Xiulan expected. She jumped backward as the spirit’s frozen hair lashed out like whips. Mei Chen’s qi surged, redirecting the storm of ice and frost away, creating a tunnel-like effect.

Xiulan slashed Severing Light in a wide arc, the barrier’s luminescent walls containing the wrathful spirit’s retaliatory strikes—at least her physical ones. Ice shards slashed at her cheeks despite Mei Chen’s best efforts.

Severing Light blazed with spiritual energy, dissolving the spectral hair wherever it attempted to touch the weapon’s surface. Good job, Elder Lei! You crafted something incredible here.

Despite the advantage, the spirit’s core form remained frustratingly out of reach, dancing away from each strike. Xiulan’s gaze locked onto the glowing bone. She pivoted, bringing Severing Light down in a decisive strike.

The spirit reacted instantly, ripping stone from the chamber floor. A pillar of earth erupted between Xiulan and her target. The barrier’s web-like pattern stretched outward as pressure built inside, forcing Xiulan to retreat several steps.

“Hurry!” Mei Chen’s urgent shout echoed off the chamber walls.

Crimson light flooded the tunnel above. Feng Yu plummeted from the ceiling, flames trailing behind her like a comet. She hurled Liuhuo toward the spirit. The tiny serpent opened his mouth, releasing a small fireball that expanded into an inferno.

“The barrier—” Xiulan’s warning came too late.

The explosion shattered the spiritual cage. Yin energy burst outward in a freezing wave as flames engulfed the spirit’s form.

Feng Yu landed in a crouch, flames still dancing around her. She sprang forward without hesitation, weapon blazing with spiritual fire. Xiulan darted in beside her, Severing Light pulsing with yang energy.

The wrathful spirit’s hair writhed like frozen serpents, spreading outward in an arctic web, forcing them to dodge and weave.

New ice shards materialized from the frigid air. Xiulan ducked beneath the crystalline barrage as Feng Yu swept her hand upward.

A barrier of flames erupted between them and the spirit, melting the incoming projectiles into harmless steam. The supernatural cold fought with the intense heat radiating from Feng Yu’s techniques.

The spirit’s form twisted through the chamber like smoke, trailing tendrils of frozen hair. Xiulan reached for her darts. She charged one with yang energy, the projectile sparking between her fingers as she took aim.

Before she could release, a strand of spectral hair lashed out. The dart discharged prematurely, yang energy dissipating uselessly into the frozen air.

“Fucking bullshit!”

Footsteps echoed from the entrance tunnel. Ren Chun burst into the chamber, earth qi swirling around him. The spirit’s ice curved away from the energy, creating a path through the supernatural storm.

He charged forward, joining their assault.

Xiulan dropped low, slashing at the spirit’s trailing form. Above her, Feng Yu’s blazing weapon cut through the air where the spirit’s torso flickered while Ren Chun leaped high, his attack aimed at the spectral head.

The spirit twisted impossibly, evading all three strikes.

Frozen tendrils whipped toward them in a counterattack. Xiulan jumped over a sweeping length of hair as Feng Yu’s flames incinerated another. A wall of stone erupted from the ground as Ren Chun blocked a third attack. He punched forward, launching shards of rock through the air, but the spirit’s ice intercepted them in a crystalline explosion.

Xiulan adjusted her grip on Severing Light, preparing for another assault. The supernatural blizzard stopped abruptly as the wrathful spirit went rigid, spectral form turning toward the chamber’s center.

Xiulan followed the spirit’s gaze. Mei Chen stood in the middle of the room, holding up the glowing immortal bone.

Tears streamed down Mei Chen’s face, crystallizing into droplets of spiritual energy before they hit the ground. “Like this, you’ll never chance meeting again! Is that really what you want?”

The wrathful spirit froze, her strands of frozen hair hanging motionless around them like suspended icicles.

Mei Chen lifted the immortal bone above her head. Golden light pulsed from within, growing stronger with each beat. The bone crumbled into motes of spiritual energy, scattering upward like windblown seeds caught in a divine breeze.

The spirit shot toward the ascending light, her form trailing wisps of frost. All aggression vanished as she reached for the golden particles with desperate longing.

Xiulan sprinted to Mei Chen’s side, Severing Light held defensively. The chamber’s supernatural cold pressed against her skin as she positioned herself between Mei Chen and the spirit.

There was no need.

The wrathful spirit paid no attention to their movements. Her spectral form dissolved into points of blue-white light that swirled together with the golden motes and danced through the air like fireflies.

The chamber floor glittered with scattered spirit tears, their faint luminescence casting prismatic patterns across the ice-covered walls.

Feng Yu knelt, lifting one to examine the swirling energy trapped within. “Hey, aren’t these winter’s tears? Each one should fetch at least a spirit stone at the Treasure Pavilion.”

Ren Chun raised his sword toward the chamber ceiling. “We’ve saved the entire region from a dangerous wrathful spirit! Our names will—”

Xiulan’s boot connected with his shin. He hopped on one foot, clutching his leg.

“What was that for!?” he asked.

“Heroes don’t gloat over another’s tragedy.” Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s trembling shoulders, her quiet sobs echoing throughout the chamber.

The victory felt empty. No glory or triumph filled her chest—only a deep ache for the lovers separated by death and time.

Feng Yu gathered a handful of the crystallized tears and held them out to Mei Chen. “Here. You should keep these.” The forced cheerfulness in her voice fell flat against the chamber’s solemn atmosphere.

“We should...” Mei Chen’s words dissolved into fresh tears. “We should... I don’t know.”

Feng Yu gathered stones from around the chamber, stacking them carefully in the center where the immortal bone had rested. She pulled an incense stick from her pack and touched the tip with a finger. A tiny flame ignited the fragrant wood.

“All we can do is remember their grief.” Feng Yu planted the burning incense among the stones. “And hope they return to karma to find each other again.”

Relaxing Breeze

In my thousand years, I have seen countless promising disciples rush to their doom. They mistake speed for progress, forgetting that even the mightiest tree must first sink roots deep into the earth. Take time to strengthen your core, lest you become another cautionary tale.
—Sage Master Yu Ling, Speaker to the Wild

Xiulan dropped her travel pack onto the wooden floor of their rented rooms, the weight lifting from her shoulders bringing a welcome relief after the day’s journey.

The innkeeper had practically danced when they mentioned dealing with the wrathful spirit. Within minutes, the entire village erupted into impromptu festivities—drums beating, wine flowing, and children running through the streets with ribbons trailing behind them.

Early summer’s mist did nothing to mute the celebration, though a comforting quiet had settled within their group.

Square wooden beams crossed the ceiling of their common room. Two bedroom doors stood on opposite walls, one facing an enclosed garden visible through paper screens. The simple furnishings spoke of comfort rather than luxury—exactly what they needed.

“I’ll take the room by the garden.” Ren Chun stepped toward the screened door.

“Absolutely not.” Feng Yu planted herself between him and the door. “That’s our room. You get the other one all to yourself—plenty of space for one person.”

Ren Chun’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “The garden does look peaceful, though.”

“Nothing stops you from enjoying it except the rain.” Xiulan gestured toward the open screen doors where drops slowly strengthened to splatter against the wooden walkway.

A soft melody drifted through the room as Mei Chen sorted their travel packs. “I’ll wash everyone’s clothes if you bundle them together.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Xiulan frowned. “You’re not a servant anymore.”

“Yeah!” Feng Yu stepped forward. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“But I want to.” Mei Chen clutched a bundle of fabric to her chest. “It makes me happy.”

The simple statement caught Xiulan off guard. She exchanged glances with Feng Yu, who shrugged and began gathering her clothes. Ren Chun followed suit, passing his bundle to Mei Chen.

Mei Chen sorted the garments. A pang of guilt twisted in Xiulan’s chest as she realized they’d been pushing her; she deserved to choose her own path.

Xiulan moved forward and wrapped her arms around Mei Chen in a sudden embrace, eliciting a surprised squeak.

“What was that for?” Mei Chen tilted her head.

“Because you’re perfect exactly as you are.” Xiulan smiled. “However you want to be.”

Mei Chen blinked in confusion before a warm smile spread across her face. “Thank you, miss.”

The scent of braised pork and fried chicken wafted through the room as servants arranged lacquered trays on the low table. Steam rose from bowls of white rice and noodles, while plates of sauced vegetables added vibrant colors to the spread. The rich aroma made Xiulan’s stomach rumble.

Everyone settled onto cushions around the table. Xiulan watched Mei Chen expertly arrange chopsticks and spoons while Ren Chun poured soy milk into ceramic cups.

Halfway through the meal, Feng Yu lowered her chopsticks and studied Mei Chen. “Did anyone ever force the two of you to survive on the streets?”

Mei Chen froze mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from her mouth. She quickly dabbed her lips with a napkin. “What? No! We’ve always been provided care, even if it was a bit… improper...”

Feng Yu bit into a piece of chicken, her amber eyes fixed on Xiulan with laser focus.

The intense scrutiny made Xiulan squirm on her cushion. “Why are you thinking so hard? I swear I can see steam coming out of your ears.”

Feng Yu patted her head and ears in confusion. “What?”

The gesture broke the tension. Laughter erupted around the table, echoing off the wooden beams above.

Feng Yu crossed her arms and huffed. “I’ve been wondering where a noble daughter learned to curse like a common street rat.”

The accusation sparked a mix of amusement and indignation in Xiulan’s chest. She opened her mouth to defend herself but Mei Chen interrupted with a thoughtful “Oh...”

Mei Chen tapped her chin, staring at the ceiling beams. The gesture reminded Xiulan so much of her old self that she couldn’t help but smile.

Mei Chen’s eyes lit up. “I think it started when you hit your head falling off that cliff!”

Rice and broth caught in Xiulan’s throat. She coughed violently, pounding her chest while reaching for her cup of soy milk.

“Falling off a cliff teaches bad manners?” Feng Yu raised an eyebrow. “That’s an unusual education method.”

After clearing her throat, Xiulan straightened her spine. “I don’t have bad manners! That’s just...” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “That’s when I decided to fight back against my stepmother!”

Ren Chun stabbed at his rice with precise, measured movements. The silence stretched until he cleared his throat. “Miss Lin, you should complete your cultivation breakthrough before we reach Aeris.”

Xiulan paused with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

“The inn provides adequate privacy.” Ren Chun set his bowl down. “With our combined assistance, you shouldn’t encounter difficulties advancing to Qi Gathering.”

“Do you have the necessary materials?” Feng Yu leaned forward, amber eyes bright with interest.

Xiulan released a heavy sigh, recalling the elemental pills she had safely packed away. “Yes.”

Anxiety coiled in her stomach. Despite craving advancement, she’d delayed this moment. The transition to Qi Gathering would fundamentally alter her being.

The changes since awakening as Lin Xiulan seemed minor in comparison, like drifting down a gentle incline. This breakthrough loomed like a steep flight of stairs, the second step permanent and irreversible.

One wrong move during the breakthrough could snap her neck like a dried twig.

Her fingers trembled against the table.

Mei Chen pressed a warm hand against Xiulan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry! Xiulan can do it.”

“I’ll help stabilize your qi while you make the transition.” Feng Yu offered. “We are close enough that some dual cultivation will let me monitor your progress.”

Ren Chun sprayed rice across the table. He pounded his chest and grabbed his cup of soy milk, gulping it down. “It’s... it’s...” He coughed and wiped his mouth. “It’s a good idea to complete the breakthrough soon. It will improve your chances!”

He scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the door, nearly tripping over his own cushion.

“What’s his problem?” Xiulan watched him disappear around the corner.

Mei Chen dabbed at spilled soy milk with her sleeve. “He probably thinks you and Fairy Feng are lovers now, considering how things were explained to me.”

Rice caught in Xiulan’s throat. She choked and sputtered, face burning as she reached for her cup.

Feng Yu burst into bright peals of laughter, nearly knocking over her cup. “Maybe we should explain things to him.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Though watching his imagination run wild might be more entertaining.”

Xiulan rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I’ll spend tonight preparing mentally. We can attempt the breakthrough tomorrow morning.”

“A sound plan.” Feng Yu pushed herself up from the cushions. “I’ll arrange another day with the innkeeper. A small delay won’t hurt our journey.”

The thought of a hot bath eased some tension from Xiulan’s shoulders. She glanced at Mei Chen, who began folding napkins into precise triangles. “Perhaps we should visit the hot springs while we’re here?” A furrow creased her brow. “Would that be safe for… your body?”

Feng Yu tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t see why not.”

“It’s fine.” Mei Chen smoothed the last napkin flat. “I’ve already bathed in hot water since...” She gestured vaguely at herself. “The water doesn’t affect this body badly.”

The wooden floorboards creaked as Feng Yu strode toward the door. “I’ll arrange everything with the innkeeper. The hot springs will let us relax before the breakthrough. We can all visit in the morning.”

Xiulan watched her leave before entering their shared bedroom. Simple furnishings lined the walls: three sleeping mats, a low table, and a wooden chest for storage. She knelt beside her travel pack and began sorting through the contents.

The five elemental pills clinked against each other as she placed them on the table. Each one gleamed with a different hue—red for fire, blue for water, brown for earth, white for metal, and green for wood. Next came the bone refinement powder, wrapped in thick paper and tied with twine.

Everything’s ready. I’ve planned this out perfectly. She traced the edge of the powder packet.

So why do I feel so uncertain?

Cool arms wrapped around her shoulders as Mei Chen knelt behind her, the familiar scent of frost and jasmine filling the air. “Is Miss Xiulan happy with our path?”

Xiulan relaxed against Mei Chen’s embrace, letting out a long breath. “I think we found the best way forward, considering everything that’s happened.” She patted Mei Chen’s hand. “Though I wish you’d stop calling me ‘miss’ when we’re alone.”

Mei Chen squeezed tighter. “That’s not what I asked, Xiulan.”

Xiulan shifted back until her head rested on Mei Chen’s shoulder. The familiar cool pulse of Mei Chen’s spiritual energy seeped through her robes. “I’m happy with our little group. You, Feng Yu, even Ren Chun… seems redeemable.” A sigh escaped her lips. “The future just feels... uncertain.”

“You wouldn’t be the miss who drags us into trouble with all those clever plans if you weren’t happy.” Mei Chen’s words carried the hint of a smile.

A chuckle bubbled up from Xiulan’s chest. The tension in her shoulders melted away as they sat together in comfortable silence, the patter of rain against the garden screens mixing with distant sounds of celebration from the village.

It had to end eventually, though.

“I should take care of those clothes!” Mei Chen bounced to her feet, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm as she hurried away with the group’s dirty bundles.

Xiulan turned and continued to prepare the room. She unrolled the three futon-style sleeping mats against the wooden wall. The setup sparked amusement—she wasn’t sure that the Japanese style beds were normal in ancient China. One of the devs at Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles had probably binged too many anime shows.

She settled onto her mat, letting her mind drift between meditation and sleep.

Footsteps approached. Feng Yu slid open the door while Mei Chen followed with their freshly cleaned clothes. They all changed into sleeping robes, the fabric rustling in the dim light. Xiulan claimed the middle mat as Feng Yu and Mei Chen settled on either side.

“Good night,” Xiulan mumbled, already half-asleep.

A chorus of “good nights” echoed back before darkness claimed her consciousness.

Some time later, something tickled her shoulder.

Xiulan blinked awake in the moonlit room to find chaos had erupted during her slumber.

Feng Yu sprawled upside down, feet propped over Xiulan’s shoulder while maintaining a death grip on both Mei Chen’s and her legs. Mei Chen adhered to her side like a sea barnacle, arms locked around her back and face planted against her chest.

Xiulan shifted experimentally. Both cultivators tightened their holds.

Are they faking sleep? She studied their peaceful faces suspiciously.

“Xiulan... Xiulan... Xiulan...” Mei Chen’s quiet chant drifted through the darkness.

“Mmmm... steamed buns...” Feng Yu drooled slightly onto the mat.

From his perch on Feng Yu’s back, Liuhuo released a serpentine hiss that sounded suspiciously like laughter. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement at Xiulan’s predicament.

Instead of a guard dog or cat… they had a guard snake?

Xiulan sighed in resignation. At least they were all comfy.

She closed her eyes and let sleep reclaim her, surrounded by her peculiar family.

Double Refined, Double Capacity

The bones remember what the flesh forgets.
—Demon Lord Sha Kong, Consumer of Ten Thousand Souls

Skin reinforcement followed similar principles to muscle reinforcement, though the process stretched across a broader area and required constant pressure. The first challenge was finding a suitable location—somewhere private enough for Xiulan and Feng Yu to strip down without permanently damaging the surroundings.

After constructing a makeshift enclosure with two disposal holes and fence, they enlisted Mei Chen as their “guard spirit.” No one was going to sneak up on them and take a peek.

The process proved successful despite initial awkwardness.

The only true difficulty she had with it was the raging swirl of elements in her core from consuming the five elemental pills. But that subsided quickly under the pressure of her meridian network.

Feng Yu just looked at her and proclaimed, “As expected.”

Xiulan expelled a forceful breath as the last traces of impurities seeped from her pores. Dark, oily residue coated her skin like a film of midnight ink.

Channeling qi through her meridians, she directed the viscous substance toward the prepared pit. The filth slithered off her body in ribbons, pooling into the earthen hole.

Grabbing the nearby shovel, she scooped dirt over the contaminated pit. The pungent odor of purged impurities made her nose crinkle.

“Your control over meridian flow has improved a lot.” Feng Yu nodded approvingly.

“Let’s just get the bones over with.” Xiulan wiped the last traces of dark residue from her skin. “The other refinements proved simple enough.”

Feng Yu shook her head. “You’ll want to take that bone refining powder first. Trust me on this.”

“But muscle and skin refinement barely stung.” Xiulan stretched her newly purified skin.

“Just trust me.” Feng Yu’s amber eyes held a knowing glint.

A small knot formed in Xiulan’s stomach. She pulled out the powder packet and called over the fence. “Mei Chen, could you send some water this way?”

“Of course, miss!”

A sphere of water floated over the wooden barrier, hovering before Xiulan. She cupped a hand beneath it, using her qi to maintain its shape while emptying the powder packet into the floating orb. The mixture swirled into a murky gray as she spun it with her energy.

Xiulan took a deep breath and swallowed the concoction in one swift chug.

“I’ll support you through this, just like before.” Feng Yu placed a steadying hand on Xiulan’s shoulder.

Xiulan closed her eyes and focused. First things first, she reached out and drew Feng Yu’s offered qi thread through her meridians, weaving them into her own energy network. The support flowed like warm sunlight through her channels, steady and reassuring.

She inhaled deeply, centering herself. The task demanded her own mastery—Feng Yu could support but not complete the refinement for her.

Starting at her toes made sense, following the same methodical approach she’d used for skin and muscle. Qi condensed at the tips of her feet, pressing into the dense bone structure.

White-hot pain lanced through her. The sudden intensity would have shattered her focus if not for Feng Yu’s qi threads instantly hardening, providing crucial stability. Though the stumble proved minor, it demonstrated the value of having backup.

Gritting her teeth, Xiulan increased pressure on her toe bones. Dark spiritual filth leaked from her feet in steady rivulets, far more concentrated than the previous refinements; the bones’ spiritual density meant they harbored deeper impurities.

Black sludge pooled around her feet. The disposal pit’s capacity hadn’t seemed relevant moments ago, but feeling the thick stream of corruption pour out gave her second thoughts.

Xiulan forced qi through her toe bones methodically, working upward to her ankles and legs. Each push of energy burned like molten metal poured into her marrow. Her lungs struggled against the searing pain, every breath scorched her throat.

Moving to her fingers, she channeled qi through each delicate bone. The refinement spread up through her forearms in excruciating waves. Her heart thundered against her ribs, threatening to burst from the strain.

The bone powder must be working. She clung to that thought as another wave of agony crashed through her system. At least her opened meridians allowed qi to flow quickly—a small mercy. She focused on maintaining steady breaths despite the inferno raging inside her body.

Dark sludge oozed from her pores, thicker and fouler than before. Each section of bone yielded more spiritual filth, the corruption within far deeper than muscle or skin. Cool water suddenly washed over her skin, carrying away the viscous residue.

She dared not open her eyes or break concentration to see who helped. She didn’t need to, anyway.

Mei Chen.

The pain intensified beyond bearing. Xiulan shifted tactics, focusing on single vertebrae instead of whole sections. She worked up her spine methodically, each bone a fresh trial of blazing agony.

Feng Yu’s hands pressed firmly against her back, anchoring her trembling body. Without that support, she might have collapsed entirely.

Doubt crept into Xiulan’s mind as another wave of agony ripped through her. How could anyone endure this torment alone? The thought of attempting bone refinement without support seemed impossible.

The world dissolved into fragments of pain, each bone requiring more focus than the last. Minutes stretched into eternities as she pushed qi through her skeletal structure. Her consciousness narrowed to pinpoints of excruciating pressure.

She had to clamp down harder as she worked, each bone requiring more qi force to refine. The crushing force became so intense she feared they might splinter into dust. The corruption resisted, clinging stubbornly to marrow and calcium. She could feel the rivulets of spiritual filth trace patterns down her limbs.

At her neck, the refinement choked off her breath. Her qi flow sputtered like a dying flame. Just as panic threatened to overwhelm her, Feng Yu’s steady energy pulsed through their connection. The princess breathed for her, sustaining them both through sheer force of will.

Sister... The word floated through Xiulan’s mind, tender and grateful.

Tears cut clean tracks through the filth coating her face as she forced qi upward. The skull remained—one final challenge that sent her blood pressure skyrocketing. Each heartbeat pounded like a war drum in her ears.

Xiulan gathered every scrap of spiritual energy remaining in her system. The skull had to break—had to yield its corruption—or she’d die here with blood trickling from her ears.

No half measures remained.

She bore down with raw spiritual might, forcing qi through microscopic channels in her skull. The pressure built like a dam about to burst. Behind her, Feng Yu pressed closer, lending crucial support as their combined energy hammered against the bone’s resistance.

A thunderous pop reverberated through Xiulan’s head.

Her eyes snapped open involuntarily, vision swimming with dancing stars. Black sludge poured from her scalp in thick rivulets, joining the river of filth already coating her body. Every nerve felt deadened except for the blazing spiritual tether connecting her to Feng Yu, now hanging slack like a heavy rope between them.

Feng Yu’s labored breathing punctuated the silence.

How in hell did Ren Chun and Feng Yu manage this alone? The thought drifted as she struggled to remain upright. Even with their combined strength, the refinement had nearly broken her.

The realization struck hard—attempting this refinement alone would have killed her, or, at best, left her permanently crippled.

She drew in a shaky breath, noticing how different the qi felt flowing through her system. The energy stream connecting her to Feng Yu hitched and stuttered as her own breathing pattern rejoined the flow.

Her bones had transformed into endless spiritual voids, greedily devouring energy from her meridians and dantian. The sensation spread across her entire skeletal structure, each bone demanding more qi to fill its newly refined channels.

Xiulan lifted her trembling hands, studying her palms.

What she had been told about bone refinement seemed woefully inadequate. Something fundamental felt off about the entire process. Different. Wrong. Far more intense than any of the warnings had suggested. The powder should have helped manage the pain.

Why didn’t they warn me properly? The thought echoed through her mind as another wave of bone-deep exhaustion washed over her. Xiulan blinked through bloodshot eyes as her vision swam. The pressure slowly ebbed.

Through the haze, Mei Chen’s blurry form materialized. Cool water cascaded over Xiulan’s skin in a refreshing wave, twisting and rippling as Mei Chen pulled the dark sludge away from their bodies, separating the corruption from the clean liquid with precise control before splashing them again.

The disposal pit proved laughably inadequate for the sheer volume of spiritual waste. Black sludge overflowed its edges, spreading across the ground in viscous pools.

Xiulan slumped backward, lacking even the strength to hold herself upright. Feng Yu leaned heavily against her back, their combined exhaustion creating a precarious balance. Neither could move as Mei Chen continued washing away the seemingly endless layers of filth from their skin.

Feng Yu stirred first, breaking their spiritual connection as she pushed herself upright. Golden flames burst from her palms, not quite burning but intensely hot. The spiritual filth mixed with water evaporated under the concentrated heat.

Mei Chen’s qi control pulled the water vapor from the air, cooling and condensing into a pristine sphere. The cool water splashed across Xiulan’s skin, washing away the last traces of corruption.

A few minutes passed in what seemed like silence until Xiulan noticed Mei Chen’s mouth moving rapidly. The words filtered through slowly as her hearing returned.

“—so painful! Should I get healing pills?”

“We’re fine.” Xiulan blinked, adjusting to the return of her senses.

Feng Yu frowned thoughtfully. “Something was different about this refinement. The spiritual filth emerged at twice the normal density. The difficulty doubled too—I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Why would that happen?” Mei Chen tilted her head.

“I’m not certain.” Feng Yu’s amber eyes narrowed. “Perhaps Xiulan possesses some special cultivation root? Her meridian capacity appears doubled, and now her bones show similar traits.”

Understanding crashed through Xiulan like a thunderbolt. The bone refinement hadn’t just purified her system—it had processed double the normal spiritual capacity.

Double. The word echoed in her mind as pieces clicked into place.

She possessed two overlapping spiritual frameworks rather than the merged single system she’d assumed. Li Mei and Lin Xiulan’s souls hadn’t simply combined—they’d synchronized, creating parallel channels that worked in perfect harmony.

To the point where she didn’t notice, where Feng Yu hadn’t noticed. Nor Mei Chen.

Even Master Qingfeng—or had he? Was it part of why he was interested in her?

The realization brought clarity. She didn’t feel split or fractured. Her identity remained whole and unified, perhaps because her two souls proved so compatible from the start. Whether fate or circumstance had guided their merger hardly mattered now.

Her expanded spiritual capacity explained the brutal intensity of the bone refinement. The process targeted spiritual corruption as much as physical impurities. Cleansing twice the normal spiritual volume meant enduring double the strain.

Xiulan pushed herself up on trembling legs. “I’m okay.” Her body quivered with bone-deep exhaustion. “Just need rest.”

“Good thing we tackled this together,” Feng Yu said.

Mei Chen stepped out and came back into the fenced area with an armful of fresh robes. “Should we head to the hot springs as planned? Or would you prefer to rest?”

“Hot springs,” Feng Yu replied.

“Bed.” Xiulan rubbed her aching shoulders.

They locked eyes.

“Actually, bed sounds better.” Feng Yu slumped.

“No, you were right—hot springs.” Xiulan stretched.

“Oh, you two… I vote hot springs, then bed!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes.

Despite the bone-deep exhaustion, laughter bubbled up from Xiulan’s chest. Each step away from the refinement area lightened the weight in her limbs. The soreness remained, but the crushing fatigue ebbed.

“Maybe the hot spring is exactly what we need.”

Standard Training Montage

In the crucible of change, we forge our destiny. Yesterday's struggles become tomorrow's strength, melted and reformed by the fires of determination.
—Sage Master Wei Huang, Keeper of the First Flame

Xiulan and her companions continued along the road to the capital. Now that she had completed Body Refinement, she felt lighter than a feather. And because of the precise way the golden pill opened her meridians, Qi Gathering wasn’t so different from her previous state.

Qi flowed naturally through the expanded channels, responding to her will with the same familiar ease. Each breath drew in spiritual energy that settled into her dantian like drops of morning dew.

But her body was stronger. The bone refinement had transformed her frame and deepened her qi reservoir into a lake compared to a pond before. Muscles responded with lightning quickness, and impacts that would have bruised before barely registered now.

Which... really was a silly thing to be surprised about, considering. Cultivation techniques focused on strengthening the physical form first for a good reason.

Each day of the journey, she’d end up sparring for several hours with Feng Yu, Ren Chun, and Mei Chen. The routine emerged naturally—find a clearing off the road, set up a small camp in a deserted spot, then trade techniques until exhaustion set in; mastering precise control—they didn’t want to hurt each other—as they pushed their limits was the most difficult part.

Xiulan’s spear work got better. Severing Light sang through complex forms as she adapted to match supernatural speed and strength, the weapon responding to her qi like an extension of her arm.

The density on the road—of the villages—increased each day. Then came towns that qualified as small cities. Markets sprawled across town squares where merchants hawked everything from spirit herbs to mundane vegetables.

Endless fields of cropland separated them, and they followed the wide imperial road filled with carts carrying goods and produce. The steady stream of commerce flowed both directions—raw materials heading north, finished goods moving south.

Away from Blackmere, further north and out of the mountains, the climate shifted; it was warmer, and food could grow all year long. Rice paddies stretched to the horizon in neat geometric patterns. Workers in wide-brimmed hats tended the endless rows while water buffalo wallowed in muddy ditches.

Xiulan stared in awe as their group rounded the hillside. Aeris stretched before them, its towering pagodas piercing the sky long before the city walls came into view. When the full expanse of the provincial capital emerged, it reminded her of a modern-day metropolis in size.

The fact that they had reached their destination snuck up on her.

“So big, miss!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes, sniffing the air excitedly.

Feng Yu laughed. “Aeris is tiny compared to Arinthia!”

“So this is the provincial capital.” Ren Chun shielded his eyes against the sun. “Master Hong Bi described its size, but this...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Xiulan studied the sprawl of buildings and tents spreading beyond the city proper—an entire second city had sprouted outside the walls. Their group fell in behind a merchant wagon as it lumbered down the road toward the gates.

“How are we going to settle in?” Xiulan adjusted her pack.

“We’ll stay outside the walls tonight.” Feng Yu gestured toward the temporary settlements. “Get our bearings first.”

Xiulan and the others nodded.

“Tomorrow, we can enter the inner city and check the school recruitment schedule. We’re a month early, so there’s time to prepare.” Feng Yu tilted her head. “Unless someone prefers joining a sect instead?”

Silence answered her question.

“Skyward Institute, then?” Mei Chen sniffed the air.

“That’s where Master Qingfeng said you need to study Lingdao.” Xiulan watched a group of cultivators stride past in flowing robes. Aqua Seraph? They matched brothers Long and Mo.

“Their sword techniques are legendary.” Ren Chun’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“I considered Flameheart.” Feng Yu shrugged. “But alchemy doesn’t suit me, and Skyward has an excellent reputation.”

The inn’s balcony offered a perfect view of Aeris’s bustling eastern gate. Xiulan sat down and peeked through the wooden railing, watching merchants haggle with guards over entry fees while caravans inched forward in the afternoon sun. The scent of street food wafted up from vendors’ carts—spiced meat skewers and steaming buns.

How far she’d come from the night when Li Mei died. The memories felt distant now, like watching scenes from someone else’s life through frosted glass. Her degree, the retail job, the convenience store dinner, the truck—it all seemed trivial compared to what followed.

The violence at Lin Manor played through her mind. The betrayal and torture of Mei Chen. Rage that drove her to eliminate those who’d hurt them. She flexed her hands on the railing, remembering the weight of the simple soldier’s spear as she’d carved her path to freedom.

The desperate quest to save Mei Chen. Blood lotus gathering with Ren Chun. The dawn serpent hunt with Feng Yu. Mei Chen’s transformation into something special. Each challenge had shaped her into someone stronger.

A merchant’s cart creaked past below, loaded with spirit herbs bound for the inner city. The familiar scent of Heaven Grass brought back memories of Master Qingfeng’s tea and his guidance through those early days. The Treasure Pavilion had become a sanctuary when she needed it most.

She had blown in with the wind of her choices. Now, she needed to apply her own will to that stream to ensure her ship went where she desired.

Here she stood at the gates of Aeris, no longer the confused transmigrator—just one person with two souls who had accepted her new path.

…with the minor burden of probably needing to save the world or at least letting someone else know about it. Not for the first time, she thought about explaining everything to Feng Yu. She was a princess, after all, but something held her back from that.

Maybe it was the vulnerability she had seen in the other girl.

Either way, they were doing what needed to be done. They needed to advance and get stronger, and that’s what they’d do by joining the cultivation school.

Maybe that was a bit of hubris, expecting things to go well without telling anyone.

But she had never claimed to be perfect. Just…

She didn’t want things to change. She liked her relationship with the others the way it was now. If they could have traveled around saving villages from spirits, fighting for “good” things, and helping people… she would have loved that.

It wasn’t to be, though.

Soft footsteps approached from behind as she gazed over the city. The familiar scent of cinnamon preceded Feng Yu’s arrival at the balcony railing.

“What do you think, County Princess? Big city too big for you?” Feng Yu leaned against the wooden beam.

Xiulan stretched back, rolling her shoulders. “We need to stop at the Treasure Pavilion—collect our reward for the mission.”

“Ha!” Feng Yu gestured toward the gate. “The selection here will be incredible. Try not to turn it into a shopping spree.”

Xiulan turned toward her companion, studying the familiar profile. “Speaking of nicknames... if you’re going to call me County Princess, does that mean you’re ready to talk about it... princess?”

Feng Yu stiffened. Color drained from her face as panic flashed across her usually composed features. “I... I...”

A visible swallow preceded her next words. “The secret won’t last after we join the school, anyway. Can we just... wait until then?”

“Of course.” Xiulan nodded softly. “I can wait until you’re ready.”

Feng Yu released a weak laugh. Silence stretched between them as merchants haggled below. “When did you figure it out?”

“Ha!” Xiulan smirked. “If you want to know, you can find out when we talk about it.”

“Hey!” Feng Yu gaped at her.

Xiulan poked her ribs playfully. “No privilege for incognito people.”

“Fair...” Feng Yu sighed. “Fair...”

Feng Yu sprang onto the balcony railing in a single fluid motion, balancing with perfect cultivator grace. The setting sun painted her sandy brown hair in amber hues as she shielded her eyes against the golden light.

“I bet we can find something delicious for dinner.” She extended her hand toward Xiulan with a grin. “Come on.”

Xiulan grasped the offered hand. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about phoenixes or ancient deity seals kept in the imperial family, would you?”

Feng Yu pulled her up onto the railing with effortless strength. A puzzled frown crossed her face. “No?”

“Just checking.” Xiulan steadied herself on the wooden beam.

Of course Feng Yu didn’t know. The list of potential Phoenix Princesses stretched long—crossing one name off brought her marginally closer to identifying which royal daughter stood to die and doom them all. She wondered what name appeared on Feng Yu’s imperial record.

“Hey! Where are you going without me?” Mei Chen’s excited voice carried from inside their room.

Xiulan laughed. “We’re heading out for food!”

They returned from the market laden with steaming buns and skewered meats. The aroma of spiced lamb and garlic filled their room as they presented Ren Chun with his portion.

“You didn’t have to.” Ren Chun accepted the food with a grateful nod.

“Consider it payment for tomorrow’s sparring session.” Xiulan settled onto a cushion.

Morning brought them into the city and straight to the Treasure Pavilion, its marble halls bustling with cultivators. A merchandiser counted out their reward: two hundred and fifty spirit stones each for the wrathful spirit, plus an extra five hundred split between Xiulan and Mei Chen for the winter tears.

The streets teemed with other cultivators as they left. Every corner shop catered to cultivation needs—spirit herbs, talismans, weapons. Xiulan watched masters in flowing robes haggle over prices while disciples carried purchases. Some wore sect colors she recognized from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, others displayed unfamiliar emblems.

“So many!” Mei Chen bounced excitedly. “The qi makes my nose tickle.”

They found lodging in the cultivator district near Skyward Institute. The rooms cost more than standard inns but offered essential amenities—reinforced walls, meditation spaces, and proximity to training grounds.

A nearby building caught Xiulan’s attention. For one spirit stone per day, they could access sparring chambers with protective arrays. The investment seemed worthwhile, given their need to prepare for recruitment.

“One month.” Feng Yu examined the posted schedule for school ceremonies. “We should establish a routine.”

They fell into a rhythm. Mornings meant martial arts—Severing Light clashing against Feng Yu’s sword while Ren Chun offered pointers. Afternoons belonged to meditation with Mei Chen, who proved surprisingly adept at leading their joint sessions.

“Feel the qi flow like water.” Mei Chen guided Xiulan through breathing exercises. “Let it pool naturally.”

Evenings found Xiulan at the Treasure Pavilion’s alchemy section. Ming’s previous criticisms rang in her ears as she worked on cheap sets of healing pills while mastering the basic skills beyond a single perfectly memorized recipe.

The days blurred together in a whirlwind of training, study, and preparation. Each sunset brought them closer to the recruitment ceremonies, time slipping away faster than she could grasp.

Recruitment Challenges

The beast knows its master not through force, but through understanding. So too must we judge those who seek to join our ranks.
—Sage Master Yu Ling, Speaker to the Wild

Xiulan spent the night before recruitment meticulously cleaning her gear.

The black and turquoise robe shimmered under lantern light as she checked each stitch for imperfections, but the refined garment was as pristine as when she had bought it. Severing Light’s blade gleamed after a thorough polish, its edge catching the dim light.

Dawn brought an unexpected cacophony of sounds. Drums thundered through the streets. Bells chimed from temple towers. The scent of incense and cooking food wafted through their inn’s window.

Xiulan stepped onto their room’s balcony to find colorful banners stretched between buildings. Street vendors had transformed overnight, their stalls now festooned with ribbons and talismans. Children ran past wearing masks painted with cultivation symbols as street performers breathed multicolored flames into intricate patterns overhead.

“What in the world?” Xiulan watched a parade of dancers weave through the crowd below.

“Ready?” Ren Chun adjusted his formal robes behind her.

Their group merged into the festival crowd. Mei Chen bounced excitedly between market stalls while Ren Chun maintained a careful distance from the pressing throng.

“I didn’t expect this. Does it always turn into a festival?” Xiulan dodged a group of children chasing each other with paper talismans.

“Every year.” Feng Yu smiled at a young girl who gaped at her sword. “They see it as a celebration of magic entering the world.”

So much for staying separate. Xiulan followed along with a frown.

“Look there.” Feng Yu pointed toward massive banners hanging from the towering pagoda towers. Each school’s symbol dominated its district—Skyward’s wind-wrapped peaks, Earth Embrace’s mountain range, Flameheart’s burning flower, and Aqua Seraph’s cresting wave.

The schools hadn’t separated themselves at all; together, they’d claimed the heart of the city itself.

Xiulan stared at Skyward Institute’s gates. Her steps faltered as she took in the transformed entrance—where a simple square had stretched just a week ago, a two-tiered arena now dominated the space. A robed cultivator stood atop the ornate stone archway, observing the gathering crowd below.

“That wasn’t here before,” Xiulan muttered. The perfectly circular depression carved into the earth stretched sixty paces across on the bottom level, its surface lined with smooth stone with simple grooves cut at regular intervals to give texture.

Xiulan’s group pushed forward through the festival crowd. An invisible force pressed against her skin as they approached the arena’s edge. The pressure explained the crowd’s reluctance to venture closer.

Other cultivators filtered through the crowd toward the arena: a trio of young women in matching green robes strode past; two brothers sporting identical cultivation medals entered from the opposite side; a lone cultivator in weather-worn traveling clothes stepped into the circle.

Xiulan exchanged glances with her companions. The familiar presence of Feng Yu’s steady confidence, Ren Chun’s focused determination, and Mei Chen’s supernatural awareness strengthened her resolve.

The mounting pressure intensified. While not overwhelming, it demanded acknowledgment, like walking against a strong wind.

The elder atop the gate remained motionless, his blue and silver robes rippling in the morning breeze. A blue-tinted sword hung at his waist, catching the sunlight. The crowd swelled as more aspiring cultivators arrived from every direction.

“The qi pressure serves as our first test,” Ren Chun said. “Those too weak to withstand it won’t qualify.”

Xiulan watched several Body Refining cultivators strain against the invisible force. Their faces contorted with effort before they crumpled to the ground. Some crawled away, while others needed help from friends to retreat.

“Poor preparation.” Feng Yu shook her head. “They should have known better.”

“The qi feels wrong.” Mei Chen shifted uneasily beside Xiulan. “It pushes and pulls, trying to force us into rigid patterns.”

“That’s typical of schools and sects.” Feng Yu placed a reassuring hand on Mei Chen’s shoulder. “They prefer order and conformity. But don’t worry—Skyward Institute maintains one of the most righteous reputations. They’ll treat you fairly.”

Xiulan shifted her weight uneasily. Words about righteousness echoed. What defined righteousness in this world of cultivation? She had killed her own family members, justified their deaths through their actions. Would a righteous sect accept someone like her?

The morning sun climbed higher as they waited. A few more cultivators trickled into the arena, each carrying themselves with varying degrees of confidence. Some clutched spirit weapons, while others displayed talismans and protective gear.

Is this going to turn into a tournament arc? Anything but that.

Feng Yu explained the tests changed yearly according to the elders’ whims, though combat trials remained a common method for testing potential disciples.

A brilliant flash lit the air. White lines of pure qi stretched skyward, weaving into a translucent dome over the arena.

The elder launched himself from the gate, his blue robes billowing as he landed before them. Raw power rolled off him in waves, pressing against Xiulan’s senses.

Something felt off about his display. Master Qingfeng had never needed such obvious demonstrations of power. His presence alone commanded respect without ever revealing the depths of his strength.

This elder’s aggressive qi felt almost... compensatory.

A rhythmic drumbeat echoed across the arena as two dozen cultivators in Skyward’s blue and silver uniforms marched down toward them from behind the gate.

They moved with precision, boots striking the stone in perfect unison. Each outer disciple carried a different spirit weapon—swords, spears, and more exotic arms Xiulan didn’t recognize.

The elder stepped forward. “This year’s recruitment will be simple. Show us your skill by trading pointers with our outer disciples. Those who show sufficient potential shall join our ranks.”

So it’s not a formal test at all. Xiulan studied the lined-up disciples. They’ll judge us by feel during actual combat. The practical approach suited her—structured examinations often missed true talent.

Her confidence grew as she assessed the outer disciples. Their qi levels seemed manageable, and they had faced worse odds during Blackmere’s siege. Feng Yu could certainly handle herself, while Ren Chun’s foundation was solid. Even Mei Chen’s unique abilities would serve her well.

Movement caught Xiulan’s eye. Among the uniform ranks stood a distinctive figure—a cultivator with a softly glowing blue stone embedded in his forehead. His intense stare fixed on Mei Chen, studying her with unsettling focus.

A Lingdao cultivator. This was why they had come in here in the first place, so that was a good sign.

“Form ranks!” The elder’s command cracked through the morning air.

The applicants shuffled into rough lines. A young woman in Skyward robes stepped into the arena’s center, her silver-trimmed sleeves billowing. She pointed toward a burly cultivator near the front.

“You. Show me your skill.”

A tall man stepped into the arena, his plain steel sword held at the ready. He bowed deeply to the outer disciple, who returned the gesture with practiced grace.

The outer disciple’s blade flashed. A single silver arc of qi sliced through the air. The applicant flew backward, his sword clattering across cobblestones as he tumbled outside the arena’s boundary.

Another blue-robed disciple replaced his companion, adjusting steel-plated gauntlets. The pattern repeated. Applicants entered one by one, each facing devastating defeats. Some fell to precisely aimed martial strikes, while others crumpled under barrages of elemental techniques.

A few skilled cultivators earned their victories. They stood aside, proudly wearing newly granted silver tokens that marked their acceptance.

Ren Chun strode forward, the first of their group to enter the circle. The outer disciple launched forward with a spear thrust crackling with flame qi.

“Earth Sunders the Lake!” Ren Chun’s shout echoed across the arena.

A massive wave of qi-infused water erupted from the air, crashing against the barrier’s walls. Before the outer disciple could react, the cobblestones beneath him shifted. Stone wrapped around his limbs, encasing him in a floating coffin of earth.

Several disciples rushed to extract their trapped companion. The elder raised a glowing talisman, and the arena’s surface smoothed itself, erasing all evidence of the damage.

Ren Chun joined the small group of accepted applicants. He turned back toward Xiulan and the others, offering a confident wink as he waved.

Xiulan studied the next matches intently. Another cultivator sailed through the air, landing hard outside the arena’s boundary. His opponent hadn’t even drawn a weapon. A young woman in emerald robes fared better, deflecting three attacks before disarming her challenger. She joined the small cluster of victors, accepting a silver token with a deep bow.

How many spots remain? Xiulan counted the successful applicants. Eight tokens glinted in the morning sun. From what she had learned, the schools usually accepted between ten and twenty disciples per recruitment cycle. But would they face additional trials after this initial combat test?

“Next.” The outer disciple pointed at Mei Chen.

The Lingdao cultivator stepped forward, interrupting his fellow disciple. They conversed in hushed tones before approaching the elder. The blue stone in the Lingdao’s forehead pulsed as he spoke.

The elder nodded. The original opponent stepped back as the Lingdao cultivator took position across from Mei Chen.

Xiulan gripped Severing Light until her knuckles whitened. The weapon’s familiar weight offered little comfort as she watched Mei Chen enter the arena.

“She’ll be fine.” Feng Yu squeezed Xiulan’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t harm a potential student.”

I hope you’re right. Xiulan forced herself to breathe steadily as Mei Chen faced her opponent.

Unlike the previous matches filled with flashing blades and thunderous impacts, an eerie stillness descended over the arena. Mei Chen stood motionless, facing the Lingdao cultivator across the weathered stone circle. Wisps of yin-tinged qi rolled off her small frame in waves, colliding against her opponent’s spiritual energy.

The air grew thick with competing forces. Neither cultivator moved a muscle, yet Xiulan sensed the titanic struggle unfolding between them. Cracks spider-webbed through the stone beneath their feet, spreading outward from the point where their qi clashed. The translucent barrier above flickered and warped under the spiritual pressure.

Maybe we should have kept her seal on. Xiulan’s fingers tightened around Severing Light. They’d gambled on showing Mei Chen’s true nature, hoping it would impress the recruiters.

The temperature plummeted. A thin layer of frost crept across the fractured ground, spreading from Mei Chen toward the Lingdao disciple. The moment the frost touched the edge of his blue silk boot, all pressure vanished.

The Lingdao cultivator bowed deeply to Mei Chen. She returned the gesture before walking calmly to join Ren Chun among the victors. A small wave and bright smile flashed toward Xiulan, who raised her hand in response.

A senior outer disciple stepped forward to face Feng Yu. Their blue and silver robes rustled as they bowed in perfect synchronization. Liuhuo’s serpentine form coiled around Feng Yu’s shoulders, tongue flicking to taste the charged air.

Feng Yu drew her blade in one fluid motion. A sphere of fire erupted before her, blazing like a newborn star. The intense light painted stark shadows across the arena as the barrier above flared in response to the raw power.

Gasps and cheers erupted from the crowd of mortals beyond the arena’s edge. Children pointed excitedly at the miniature sun while adults shielded their eyes from its brilliance.

The outer disciple raised both arms, qi flowing visibly as they struggled to contain the expanding fireball. Sweat beaded on their forehead from the intense heat.

Feng Yu slashed her blade through the sphere. Flames cascaded down the steel, transforming the weapon into a massive burning whip that stretched across the arena. The blazing tendril lashed out with devastating force.

The disciple’s weapon rose to block, but the impact carried more than flame. Telekinetic force slammed into them, launching their body through the air. They barely caught themselves before crashing into the barrier wall.

Feng Yu’s flame whip cracked through the air again, leaving a blazing afterimage. The sound echoed like thunder across the arena.

“I yield!” The outer disciple dropped to one knee, lowering their weapon in surrender.

Xiulan suppressed a proud grin as Feng Yu strode toward the winners’ circle. Show-off. Still, the display deserved every cheer from the crowd.

One by one, the remaining applicants faced their trials. Some stumbled away in defeat, while others earned their tokens through clever techniques or raw power. Each victory thinned the crowd until Xiulan stood alone in the testing area.

The lingering heat from Feng Yu’s demonstration faded as the air grew heavy. Mei Chen, Ren Chun, and Feng Yu watched from their position among the victors. Their presence should have comforted her, but isolation gnawed at her confidence.

The elder stepped into the arena. His blue and silver robes rippled as he drew his sky-blue sword.

“I will judge your worth personally.”

A Favor Owed

When wind meets mountain, the mountain does not yield through force but teaches the wind new paths. This is the way of true wisdom.
—Sage Master Chen Feng, Voice of the Four Winds

Xiulan opened her mouth to question the departure from protocol but froze. Why single her out? The thought vanished as instinct screamed danger.

The elder’s blade whistled through the air. If not for countless hours sparring with her companions over the last month, the sword would have pierced her heart. She twisted Severing Light upward, deflecting the lightning-fast thrust with a hair’s breadth to spare.

Xiulan jumped backward as she spun Severing Light in a defensive spiral, the glaive’s blade leaving silver arcs through the air. She deflected a second strike. Despite her perfect form, the impact jarred through her arms.

The measured precision in his attacks suggested he tested rather than fought—but each blow threatened to shatter her guard. Her muscles strained against forces that would have crushed stone.

Raw qi slammed into her like a tidal wave. Xiulan threw open her meridians, releasing the energy stored within her core. The power flooded through her pathways, countering the elder’s spiritual pressure before it could lock her joints in place. The competing forces crackled across her skin.

She launched into a series of rapid thrusts with Severing Light, forcing the elder to maintain his distance. The weapon’s reach gave her an advantage—she could keep him from closing in, each strike probing for openings while denying him the chance to slip inside her guard.

The elder stepped forward through her attacks, his movements gaining subtle speed with each exchange. Xiulan’s deflections came a heartbeat too slow. Step by step, he pressed closer, shrinking the space she needed to wield her weapon effectively.

The elder finally broke through her defenses. Xiulan stomped the ground hard, channeling qi through her foot.

“Water Stepping Foot!”

The cobblestones erupted beneath them. A geyser of stone fragments burst upward in a defensive spray. Xiulan pulled two iron darts from her belt before the rock geyser even reached its peak. The elder’s form blurred around the eruption almost exactly as she expected.

She drove the darts into the ground and vaulted backward using Severing Light. Lightning crackled across the arena floor where she’d stood moments before.

The electrical discharge raced toward the elder but dispersed harmlessly around his body—his qi density proved too thick for the attack to penetrate.

Shit.

She maintained her distance while infusing her remaining darts with pure yin energy. Yang qi flowed into Severing Light’s blade, creating a perfect balance. The weapon hummed with power beneath her fingers.

If only Mei Chen could lend her spiritual strength right now. The thought flickered as she watched the elder’s calculated approach.

He burst into a blurred zig-zag across the arena. His speed exceeded her ability to follow, but she didn’t need to see him. In one fluid motion, she planted iron darts in a line before her and slashed Severing Light through the air.

The carefully balanced yin and yang energies did not like being suddenly separated. Lightning erupted between the planted darts, forming a crackling wall of pure electrical force directly in the elder’s path. The barrier illuminated his startled expression for a fraction of a second.

The elder’s sword traced intricate patterns through the air. A wave of yin-infused wind howled across the arena, so cold it crystallized moisture from the air. The frigid blast smothered her lightning wall, extinguishing the yang energy before surging forward like an avalanche.

Xiulan channeled qi into a hasty defensive barrier. The moment her focus shifted, he was suddenly far, far too close. A solid strike crashed into her side with enough force to launch her body through the air. She slammed against the arena’s boundary field, the impact driving the air from her lungs.

Blood filled her mouth as she rose up onto her knees, sharp pain stabbing through her ribcage with each shallow breath. The elder hadn’t held back at all—the precise strike had fractured at least two ribs.

Xiulan forced herself onto her feet despite the stabbing pain in her side. The elder’s sword whistled through the air in another lethal thrust. She twisted Severing Light to deflect the strike, metal screaming against metal.

He’s not testing anymore. This is an execution. The realization crystallized. Each strike targeted vital points with devastating force.

Xiulan spun around his next attack, her boots sliding across ice-slicked stone. She reached down and drew two shield talismans that crackled with energy as she activated them. Blue barriers of pure qi materialized just as the elder’s blade descended.

The first shield shattered with a thunderous crack. Fragments of spiritual energy scattered across the arena floor. The second barrier bought precious seconds as Xiulan pulled her qi inward, condensing it into a tight spiral within her core.

She brought her palms together directly before the elder’s face, raw energy pulsing between her hands.

“Thunder God Claps for Arrogant Young Masters!”

The compressed qi exploded outward in a devastating whirlwind. The blast caught the elder squarely, launching him skyward in a tight spiral. His blue robes whipped violently as he spun through the air.

But the fall turned into a graceful arc downward. He landed in a precise stance, robes settling around him with a practiced flourish.

Nearby, Xiulan caught glimpses through the barrier’s translucent surface. Feng Yu pounded against the white energy field, each impact sending ripples across its surface. Beyond her, Skyward disciples stood with swords drawn while Mei Chen and Ren Chun argued with them frantically.

Pain stabbed through Xiulan’s side with each labored breath, blood dripping from her split lip onto the cracked stone beneath her feet. As she shifted her stance, her ribs screamed in protest.

The elder’s hands moved to weave some complex pattern. Golden light coalesced between his palms, forming massive ethereal hands that radiated divine energy.

“Your evil taints the very earth beneath our feet,” he said. “Such darkness threatens the balance of the heavens themselves. I shall purge you from this world before your corruption can spread further.”

Huh? Xiulan looked down at her hands. Dark wisps rose from her palms, and a pool of black seeped into the fractured arena floor.

The elder stood unwinded, his robes pristine despite their battle. Not a single hair had fallen out of place.

What the fuck.

Two giant golden hands formed from the air on her left and right, slamming toward her. A deep gong resonated through the air as they closed in from both sides.

Xiulan raised Severing Light, channeling every scrap of qi she possessed into the weapon. The energy barrier felt pathetically weak against the elder’s overwhelming spiritual pressure; his Golden Core cultivation dwarfed her power completely.

The hands snapped shut, but a thunderous explosion rocked the arena as they detonated upward instead of crushing her.

The white barrier shattered with a sound like breaking glass. Screams erupted from the crowd as spiritual energy rained down around them. Her companions’ shouts finally reached her ears through the dissipating wall.

Master Qingfeng placed his hand on her shoulder, his sheathed sword extended. Raw power radiated from the weapon, having torn through the elder’s technique like paper.

She wanted to say something, but her throat had gone dry except for the taste of blood in her mouth.

Qingfeng stepped forward, each movement radiating controlled power. He positioned himself between Xiulan and the Skyward elder.

“The five elements flow through all things, yet you focus solely on the visible while ignoring the essential balance.” Master Qingfeng’s words cut through the tense air.

The Skyward elder bristled, thrusting a hand forward as a surge of golden qi erupted toward Qingfeng. With a flick of his wrist, Master Qingfeng’s sheath shimmered, sending a thin crescent of silvery energy slicing through the attack, dissipating it into harmless sparks.

“You dare—”

“When wind meets mountain, does the mountain yield? Or does the wind learn new paths?” Master Qingfeng traced a symbol in the air with the tip of his sword.

A spiraling vortex of green-tinted qi materialized and shot toward the Skyward elder. The elder’s fingers blurred into a series of intricate mudras, summoning a golden barrier. The vortex collided with the shield, sending energy rippling across the arena floor. Both defense and attack evaporated into colored motes.

Xiulan steadied herself against Severing Light’s shaft, watching the exchange intently.

“True destiny flows like water around stone, adapting rather than forcing its path.” Master Qingfeng’s blade shifted slightly, his voice calm yet unyielding.

He slashed, and another crescent strike shot forward, jagged and swift like a blade of lightning. The Skyward elder leapt back, his feet skimming the ground as he redirected the attack with a golden arc of his own.

“You attempt to dam the river with brute force?” Qingfeng’s blade moved seamlessly, channeling qi with every subtle motion.

The Skyward elder took a defensive stance, his qi now pulsing in visible waves. “This matter—”

“Karma marks all souls, but judgment belongs to heaven alone.” Master Qingfeng raised his left hand, tracing a vertical line in the air.

A cold blue light flared to life, forming a spear of pure yin energy that he thrust forward. The elder roared, unleashing a torrent of golden qi bolts to counter it. The two attacks clashed mid-air with a thunderous explosion, sending shards of energy scattering across the arena like fractured glass.

A chorus of screams erupted as people began to flee in earnest.

An icy wind swept through the arena and across the square. Frost crackled across the scattered puddles as Master Qingfeng advanced another step. His blade swept upward, releasing a crescent arc of frost-laced qi. The Skyward elder countered with a fiery surge, the two forces colliding in a violent hiss of steam.

“The strongest steel requires both fire and water, heat and cooling.” Master Qingfeng’s words carried the weight of centuries as his movements became faster.

His blade released a barrage of smaller, needle-like strikes of qi, forcing the elder to deflect and dodge in rapid succession. “One cannot forge greatness through persecution alone.”

The Skyward elder’s face darkened with each proclamation. His fingers tightened around his weapon’s hilt as he summoned a golden disk of qi, spinning it toward Qingfeng with a single wordless shout.

Master Qingfeng shifted his stance, stepping aside at the last possible moment. He thrust his blade in a seemingly casual motion, sending a beam of qi slicing through the elder’s disk, shattering it.

“Five elements in harmony create life itself. Five elements in conflict breed only destruction.” Qingfeng’s voice echoed as he advanced once more, his blade tracing another symbol.

A wave of earth-toned energy rippled out from his sword like a fissure splitting the ground. The Skyward elder leapt upward, but Qingfeng flicked his fingers, and the wave exploded into countless streams of energy that chased the elder’s retreat.

Sunlight filtered through dissipating clouds above the arena. The morning air grew thick with competing spiritual pressures. The Skyward elder landed, his steps now less certain, his breathing heavier.

“A true master sees the dao in all things, not merely what aligns with their preconceptions.” Master Qingfeng’s power pulsed outward, his form almost blurring as his energy merged seamlessly with his movements.

His blade flicked again, and another ranged strike—a whirling spiral of wind—forced the elder to his knees as he struggled to maintain his defense.

“Your blindness dishonors your position.” The words were quiet, but they reverberated like thunder.

The Skyward elder struggled to stand, his earlier confidence cracking. His golden aura flickered erratically as if straining under its own weight.

“The wind howls loudest before dying, while true power moves in silence.” Master Qingfeng advanced yet again, raising his blade one last time.

A crackling storm of energy coalesced around him, each element—fire, water, earth, wood, and metal—flowing in perfect harmony. He thrust the blade upward, unleashing a final, overwhelming qi strike that spiraled downward from the heavens toward the elder like an unrelenting tidal wave.

The Skyward elder gave into the pressure and placed his hands on the stone ground, a golden turtle shell forming to shield his back. The strike spent itself on the protection, eliminating both.

The elder slumped, his golden aura dimming.

“Perhaps it’s time you remembered the difference between authority and wisdom,” Master Qingfeng said, his blade held steady. His qi radiated calm power, like a mountain unshaken by the fiercest of storms.

The Skyward elder, silent and humbled, knelt in the shattered remnants of his pride.

Master Qingfeng lowered his blade and stepped forward. “I will take this one with me.”

The Skyward elder pushed himself back up onto his knees, teeth grinding audibly. “You have no right! The Treasure Pavilion breaks its tenets today!”

Movement drew Xiulan’s attention to the arena gates. Three more Skyward elders emerged from the morning mist, their blue and silver robes pristine. Her muscles tensed, anticipating another fight despite her broken ribs screaming in protest.

The new arrivals made no aggressive moves. They stood like ancient statues, watching the confrontation unfold with expressionless faces—witnesses rather than combatants.

Master Qingfeng gestured toward Xiulan. “This one owes me a debt greater than any applicant could owe your school. I require its return.”

He turned to face her directly. Blood dripped steadily from her split lip as she met his gaze. “Lin Xiulan, a profound favor you owe.”

“Dang lu shi dao zhi yi,” Master Qingfeng’s voice carried the weight of ancient power. “I invite you to repay your debt. Step forward into the shi tu zhi shen qi—the sacred bond of master and disciple.”

The spiritual pressure in the arena shifted, becoming thick enough to steal her breath. She gripped Severing Light tighter as each shallow inhale raised daggers of pain. The weight of Master Qingfeng’s declaration settled over her like lead.

Understanding flooded through her. The memory of that first sip of Heaven Grass tea in Master Qingfeng’s study flashed clearly, stretching across time to connect that moment to this one. Every step since then had led her here, inevitable as the tide.

How foolish to think I could simply join a school. The thought brought a smile despite her stinging split lip. She didn’t understand why he sent her here, though. Did he want her to get throttled just to learn these assholes would seek her death?

She couldn’t look at the blue-robed sect cultivators. Their presence faded into irrelevance, becoming nothing more than scattered clouds before the rising sun.

Only her companions mattered now—Feng Yu’s fierce protectiveness, Ren Chun’s protection of her family, and Mei Chen’s devoted spirit. Their faces reflected varying degrees of concern and confusion as they watched nearby.

Xiulan straightened and stepped forward, the weight of destiny settling around her shoulders like a cloak. She’d already chosen this path the moment she accepted that first cup of tea, even if she hadn’t known it then.

The invitation hung in the air: the sacred bond of master and disciple. Balance demanded restoration.

In front of Master Qingfeng, Xiulan lowered herself to her knees. Each breath burned, but the pain seemed distant now—irrelevant before the profound weight of this moment. She raised Severing Light horizontally above her head.

“Dizi yi chi xin gui yi.” The ancient words flowed from her lips with perfect clarity. She pressed her forehead to the fractured stone, completing the formal kowtow.

“With the heart of a disciple, I accept Master’s guidance.”

Epilogue

The end of one journey marks the beginning of another. Like a river flowing to the sea, we must embrace both the satisfaction of completion and the anticipation of new horizons. This is the eternal cycle.
—Sage Master Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Lantern light painted Aeris in warm hues, casting long shadows across cobblestone streets. The festive atmosphere persisted despite the dramatic events of the recruitment trials. Master Qingfeng’s stern voice drifted from where he conversed with the Skyward elders, their forms silhouetted against the illuminated pavilion steps.

Xiulan watched the other accepted disciples march up toward their initiation ceremony. Her friends were not with them.

Across the square, Ren Chun gestured animatedly while speaking with Feng Yu, their profiles sharp against the lantern glow.

She hoped that this wouldn’t cause them problems.

“No!” Mei Chen’s cry pulled Xiulan’s attention back. Tears streaked down Mei Chen’s pale cheeks. “I want to come with you!”

“You’ve already joined Skyward Institute.” Xiulan offered a weak smile, her split lip still stinging.

Mei Chen squeezed her fists tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “But that man tried to murder you!”

“It will be okay.” Xiulan patted Mei Chen’s back, careful not to aggravate her ribs. “Master Qingfeng and the other elders declared there won’t be any ramifications. No one will harm you or the others because of your association with me. Elder Fou will be watched closely and won’t be part of your training.”

Mei Chen shook her head frantically, more tears spilling. “That’s not the point! We’ll be apart for years!”

“We won’t be that far apart.” Xiulan smiled through the pain. “We can still see each other some days. We will make plans to meet since we’ll all be in Aeris, after all.”

“I’m not sure I can handle this...” Mei Chen’s shoulders slumped, her spiritual energy flickering erratically with distress.

Feng Yu appeared, placing a gentle hand on Mei Chen’s trembling back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you.”

Xiulan caught Feng Yu’s amber eyes in the lantern light. “I’m counting on you to protect Mei.”

“I don’t want protection!” Mei Chen stiffened under their touch, spiritual energy crackling with frustration.

Xiulan traced small circles across Mei Chen’s silk robes. “You’ll always have a place by my side. I’ll miss you terribly, but this separation isn’t forever. Think of all you’ll learn in the meantime.”

“Remember why we chose a school?” Feng Yu adjusted her saber at her hip. “Only permanent staff remain forever bound. Schools exist for independent cultivators to preserve their freedom while learning.”

“I’ll study hard too.” Xiulan straightened. “Maybe we’ll even get lifetime discounts at the Treasure Pavilion!”

“The Pavilion isn’t that generous with departing disciples.” Feng Yu’s lips quirked downward.

“You’re probably right.” Xiulan grinned. “Still, I can’t help feeling optimistic.”

“But we’ll be apart.” Mei Chen’s shoulders drooped.

Xiulan leaned back against the wooden bench, gazing up at the night sky where lantern light bled into the starry sky. “We’ve been together our whole lives. If our bond can’t survive a brief separation, how weak would that make it?”

Mei Chen wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I’ll study harder than anyone! I’ll graduate early and come right back to you!”

“If that’s how you want to focus your energy.” Xiulan smiled at Mei Chen’s renewed determination.

“Ha!” Feng Yu tossed her sandy brown hair. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. With my skills, I’ll graduate first and show you both how it’s done.”

Xiulan shook her head, her smile turning wistful. The endless competition never changed.

The scent of fresh steamed buns wafted through the air as Ren Chun approached, carrying a woven basket filled with pork buns and crystallized sugar sticks. “Everyone should eat something.”

“We should explore the festival while we can.” Xiulan stood carefully.

They snacked while wandering past countless stalls adorned with red lanterns. Children played traditional ring toss games while others attempted to catch goldfish with paper nets. The sweet scent of candied hawthorn berries mixed with the savory aroma of grilled meats.

“Look!” Feng Yu pointed toward a crowd gathering around floating lanterns. “Mei Chen, let’s try that one.” She grabbed Mei Chen’s hand and pulled her toward the stall.

Ren Chun watched them go, then turned to Xiulan. “I was wrong about her. Mei Chen may be a wrathful spirit, but after our experience—the difference is glaring.”

“Well, it’s obvious.” Xiulan bit into a warm pork bun, savoring the familiar taste.

“I think I was wrong about you too.” Ren Chun stared at his half-eaten pork bun.

Xiulan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

The lantern light caught the shadows under Ren Chun’s eyes as he shifted his weight. “When Elder Fou acted like that toward you... I realized I might have done the same thing.” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if what you did was right or wrong—that’s between you and the heavens.”

A group of laughing children darted past them, paper lanterns bobbing in their wake.

“What I do know, is that you care about the people close to you.” Ren Chun straightened his shoulders.

Xiulan nodded firmly. “That’s right.”

“I’ll help Feng Yu watch over Mei Chen.” Ren Chun glanced toward where Feng Yu and Mei Chen examined floating lanterns. “And I’ll keep an eye out for any grudges at Skyward Institute. The elders can say what they want, but sometimes outer disciples get treated roughly. I’ll help guard her.”

Xiulan frowned at the sugar stick in her hand. “Are you in a position to do that? Won’t that put a target on your back?”

Ren Chun laughed. “Don’t worry! She’ll have two excellent talents watching over her.”

Xiulan slowly rotated her sugar stick. “It’s not about weakness. Mei Chen’s spiritual energy could spiral out of control if she gets hurt or depleted.”

“The purpose of training is building resilience.” Ren Chun adjusted the straps of his cultivation robes. “That Lingdao cultivator showed some wisdom during their duel. I’ll speak with them later. Make sure everything is proper.”

A flash of blue silk caught Xiulan’s attention as Feng Yu and Mei Chen bounded back through the crowd. Paper lanterns bobbed in their hands, glowing with soft amber light. The delicate rice paper rustled as Mei Chen thrust one toward Xiulan.

“Release it with me?” Mei Chen bounced on her toes, spiritual energy pulsing with excitement.

Warmth spread through Xiulan’s chest. “Of course.”

The four of them wove through the festival crowds, their lanterns casting dancing shadows across cobblestone streets. Sweet osmanthus perfumed the air as they approached a garden pond nestled between ornate pavilions. Moonlight sparkled on the water’s surface where decorative bridges arched over the reflective pool.

Xiulan released her lantern alongside Mei Chen. The paper vessels caught the evening breeze, drifting upward like luminous jellyfish. Moonlight painted silver edges as they ascended into the star-studded sky.

Mei Chen bounced on her toes, clapping with unrestrained joy. “Look how high they’re going!”

Feng Yu laughed, pointing as their lanterns twirled together in an impromptu dance. The warm glow illuminated her amber eyes, reflecting genuine happiness.

Xiulan tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as the wind played through the garden. Spring flowers had given way to summer blooms since she’d first awakened in this world.

The memory felt distant now. So much had changed in mere months: the Lin family’s fall, Mei Chen’s transformation, battles won and lost, and now becoming a disciple.

She didn’t fully understand Master Qingfeng, but she felt like his actions spoke of a genuine interest in her growth. His intervention against Elder Fou proved that much, at least. Actually, he had saved her and helped her a lot already.

If she didn’t know his motives, shouldn’t she be patient and let him reveal them when he thought it was proper?

The lanterns dwindled to mere pinpricks of light against the darkening sky.

Xiulan watched them float toward the distant mountains, wondering which path would lead her to the Phoenix Princess.

Somewhere beyond those peaks, the wind blew, and with it, the answers she sought.

Steam curled from the porcelain cup as Qingfeng accepted the tea. The courtyard’s scars that marked Elder Fou’s defeat had been swiftly restored and the arena removed for another year. Five elders sat around the low table, their expressions tight with barely contained displeasure.

“You attacked a brother of Skyward Institute.” Elder Bai’s words cut through the morning air.

Qingfeng savored the tea’s delicate aroma. “A teacher guides his students toward harmony. Elder Fou chose dissonance instead.”

“And what of Lin Xiulan?” Elder Yong leaned forward. “Her path drips with blood.”

“Lin Xiulan takes her first steps on a long road. She requires guidance, not condemnation.”

“A path stained by such karma cannot find balance.” Elder Ping’s fingers drummed against the table.

“Light cannot exist without shadow.” Qingfeng set his cup down with precise movements. “The heavens may pass judgment, but we who walk the earth hold no such authority.”

Elder Wei shifted uncomfortably. “Your spiritual weight makes argument difficult.”

“One wonders if you’ve found enlightenment.” Elder Chen studied Qingfeng’s face. “Perhaps the mountain calls.”

“I’ve spent centuries in meditation.” Qingfeng poured another cup of tea. “Haste serves no purpose, especially with a new disciple to guide.”

“The heavens won’t permit delay once epiphany strikes.” Elder Liu’s voice carried a note of warning.

“Those who reach such states defy the heavens by their mere existence.” Qingfeng traced the cup’s rim. “A premature ascent guarantees failure. Did not your own founder teach this truth? Has the Skyward Path been lost?”

Silence descended over the courtyard. The elders exchanged uncomfortable glances, their earlier righteousness withering under the weight of their own teachings turned against them.

Qingfeng traced the rim of his teacup. “I trust you will moderate Elder Fou’s behavior. A feud between an elder and children would reflect poorly on Skyward Institute’s reputation.”

Elder Ping’s face reddened. “You overstep, Master Qingfeng. The Treasure Pavilion holds no authority over Skyward Institute’s elders!”

“Perhaps.” Qingfeng lifted his gaze to study the morning sky. “Though if you wish to pursue this argument, I could stir Grandmaster Han from his decades of isolation to seek his counsel.”

The color drained from five faces simultaneously. Elder Chen’s hand trembled as he set down his teacup. Elder Wei’s breath caught audibly. Even Elder Bai, normally stoic, shifted uncomfortably on his cushion.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine what the elders had been scheming during their leader’s absence. It had been an easy guess.

Qingfeng looked between them. He understood the discourtesy of such a threat. Yet Elder Fou’s reckless actions had nearly sparked disaster.

His thoughts turned toward Lin Xiulan’s peculiar nature. The merged souls within her burned bright—a phenomenon he’d never witnessed in many centuries of cultivation. Most transmigrated souls destroyed their hosts, yet these two had achieved perfect harmony.

The golden meridian opening pill had only amplified that unity. He traced the cup’s rim, recalling his astonishment at the profound changes it triggered. Such results surpassed his wildest expectations.

A pity about her talent compared to her companions. The princess was nearly peerless, and that Ren Chun boy showed thrice her potential martial prowess. If Xiulan had their skills, she would reach sainthood within a century. As it was, she would likely need ten times as long—if she survived the journey.

Even if her talent was lacking, her luck was boundless. She attracted powerful allies like a lodestone drew iron filings. Even in forgotten Blackmere, where he’d planned for centuries more peaceful meditation, she’d gathered remarkable companions.

The spirit girl, a hidden princess, and a prodigy—each drawn to her orbit.

The blood of her family stained her karma black. Elder Fou spoke truth there—those deaths would echo through eternity. But how many cultivators truly walked an unstained path? In five hundred years, he’d met countless who claimed purity. Most lied to themselves.

Mortal laws no longer held sway over her head. Cultivator society cared little for familial bonds, and while she had taken part in a war between mortal houses, she had not crossed that taboo of crushing those too far beneath her.

She was not yet tall enough to reach that metric. By the time she was, he hoped the mortal ripples she had stirred would have played themselves out.

In the end, the heavens alone would judge whether her good works outweighed her sins when tribulation lightning struck.

And if these elders were anything to go by, there had not been anyone to teach these brats proper manners or morals in a long time.

Their self-righteous posturing and quick resort to violence proved they’d forgotten the fundamental teachings of cultivation.

The elders waited for him to speak again.

Qingfeng set his empty teacup on the stone table. “The wind carries seeds across vast distances, yet we cannot predict where they will take root and flourish. Lin Xiulan grows like a peach tree in winter—defying expectations, finding strength in adversity. Some might call this a flaw. I see it as proof that the Dao manifests in unexpected ways.”

The princess radiated power like the vermillion bird of legend—her fire nature burned bright and pure despite her attempts to hide it. If Xiulan found peace with the darkness within her soul, if she could restore her harmony, she might transform into the Phoenix itself.

He’d seen too many fail at such things. But it wasn’t impossible to imagine for the girl who showed so much promise.

Ren Chun displayed the traits of an Azure Dragon cultivator—his qi moved with the quiet power of rivers and the steady rise of spring winds. Pure and controlled, it hinted at a talent that ran deeper than most.

Mei Chen presented a more complex puzzle. Her unique existence as a mindful spirit bound to a mortal form opened paths uncharted in the recorded history of Arinthia’s cultivation.

It was not unknown in other realms, as his research has suggested, but what form her advancement might take remained clouded.

Beyond the square, paper lanterns drifted skyward from the festival grounds.

The lights merged with the stars scattered across the inky expanse, creating new constellations that winked and shifted in the night breeze. Each flame represented a prayer, a wish, a dream rising toward the heavens.

The ancient ritual connected earth to sky, mortal to immortal, student to master in an unbroken chain stretching back through time.

The heavens would test them all soon enough. But tonight, he would make sure the young cultivators could celebrate together, their futures bright with possibility.

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