Vessel of Worlds

Moon Pillar Peak was the tallest mountain on West Star Island, rising two thousand zhang—and the island's sole peak-grade spirit vein, its finest by far. Legend held that a Spirit Eye Spring that had never run dry in ten thousand years lay at its summit.

Conditions so superb naturally made it the island's main peak, and there the island lord, Hermit Tianhe, had established his dwelling.

On this day, in a hidden cave dwelling somewhere on Moon Pillar Peak, two men were speaking in low voices: a refined, scholarly-looking middle-aged cultivator with a handsome black beard half a chi long, and a burly man eight chi tall, coarse-featured and heavily whiskered.

"Brother Min, I hear that the ancient sealed space your gate labored so painfully to open has been taken over jointly by the three great powers—and is to be opened to the public besides. Is it true? All those years of your fellow cultivators' toil, wasted for nothing!" the long-bearded cultivator asked.

"Brother Tianhe, my humble gate had no choice. Word leaked—how, we still don't know—and several other sects of the Heaven-Defying Alliance learned of it first, and then the Orthodox Dao Alliance and the Hundred Sects Alliance thrust themselves in as well. To keep our footing in the Star Sea, we dared not offend so many sects at once, and could only consent to joint control. Fortunately our gate master argued hard and kept the teleportation formation in our own hands. Every cultivator sent in means spirit stones collected—so we'll turn a profit at least. Otherwise it would truly have been bitter labor for another's wedding clothes!" The big man sighed, plainly resentful of the three powers' methods.

"Heh—only to be expected. The three powers could hardly sit and watch your gate rise on such a find. You lost the chance to monopolize the treasures, yes—but you escaped the peril of being swept away by all three, and you'll fatten your sect's coffers in the bargain. All told, your gate hasn't come out behind!" The long-bearded cultivator laughed.

The big man cupped his hands and smiled along. "For which we owe Brother Tianhe thanks—it was you who found us Yun Leixiao, a formation grandmaster such as appears once in a century. Without him, we could never have opened the space so quickly."

"A trifle, a trifle. Yun Leixiao was a mere early-stage Core Formation cultivator—hardly beyond reach. As it happens, his grandfather and this hermit shared a certain history; the man was the descendant of an old acquaintance, in a manner of speaking. How fares he now—still laboring for your gate?" The middle-aged cultivator stroked his glossy beard, his tone easy.

"Ah—that is precisely my errand. My gate owes Brother Tianhe an apology. Yun Leixiao's temperament proved iron to the end. Not long ago the gate directed him to refine the sealed space's restriction arrays—and rather than comply, he found his moment, detonated his own true essence, and scattered soul and spirit into nothing!" The big man shook his head apologetically.

The middle-aged cultivator went on stroking his beard, nodded, and said flatly: "I see. When this hermit bound him and delivered him to your gate, I foresaw such a day might come. Having agreed to hand the man over, I'll hardly quibble now over his life or death—no apology was needed. But surely Brother Min didn't come all this way for that alone?"

"Ha ha! Brother Tianhe knows me well! Indeed—I come with another matter to entrust to you. One more favor for my humble gate—and the compensation already promised will be increased by half!" The big man laughed and laid out terms designed to be irrefusable.

"Oh? What service can this hermit render? Another operation within Penglai's jurisdiction, I presume—for with your gate's strength, you'd hardly need me otherwise!" the long-bearded cultivator asked, smiling.

"Sharp as ever, Brother Tianhe. Just so. Our inquiries tell us Yun Leixiao raised a daughter who inherited the true essence of his formation arts. When we seized the Yun family all those years ago, that girl—then merely early-stage Foundation Establishment—escaped the pursuit of several of our mid-stage cultivators. Decades have passed, and word has it she has actually formed her golden core. Is it true?" the big man asked, suddenly grave.

Stolen story; please report.

The middle-aged cultivator's face darkened. He stroked his beard and did not answer at once. At length he said slowly: "Heh. Your gate's ears are long indeed—I suspect you keep spies even on this hermit's own West Star Island." He flicked a casual glance at the big man, smiled thinly, and continued: "It's true. The girl is almost certainly a Core Formation cultivator now. And more—one of this hermit's beloved disciples very likely died at her hand."

"What? At most she formed her core only recently—how could she have slain a disciple of Brother Tianhe's? Even armed with strange treasures and secret arts, your disciple could surely have fled!" The big man's expression shifted.

"The particulars escape even this hermit. Why—has your gate now set its designs on this newly advanced Core Formation woman?" the middle-aged cultivator asked with a smile.

"Ha ha—I'll hide nothing from Brother Tianhe. We do indeed want her formation arts. The sealed space's restriction arrays still need refinement, and with a few cultivators deeply versed in the ancient formations, the work might finish quickly. So we come to Brother Tianhe for aid: capture the girl alive and deliver her bound to us, as you did her father, and our gate master gives his personal word—your labors will not be forgotten, and a further consignment of choice furnace-cauldrons will be added to your reward." The big man smiled as he laid out his true purpose.

"Mm. When your gate master speaks in person, how could this hermit refuse? Besides—the girl killed my disciple; I'd never have let her go regardless. Handing her to your gate suits me well. I accept. Only—she is cautious beyond the ordinary, her movements drifting and traceless. Even with many hands deployed, finding her will take time. This is not like the seizure of Yun Leixiao—no single sudden stroke will land it." The middle-aged cultivator lifted the teacup at his elbow, sipped his spirit tea, and agreed as lightly as discussing the weather.

"Good! With Brother Tianhe's hand in it, the matter is as good as done! As for time—no urgency at all. Find her within thirty years, fifty—that will serve perfectly well!" the big man said, well pleased.

"Thirty or fifty years? Easily done. The girl dares not show her face at the great islands' teleportation formations—she can't have run far," the long-bearded cultivator said, unhurried, with the air of a man whose plans were already complete.

"Then I leave it in Brother Tianhe's hands! As a cultivator of the Heaven-Defying Alliance, it's ill-advised for me to linger here. Our business concluded, I'll take my leave and return to Yingzhou!" His task accomplished, the big man moved at once to depart. Remote as West Star Island was, it lay within the Orthodox Dao Alliance's sphere—and he, a Nascent Soul cultivator of the Heaven-Defying Alliance, could not afford to loiter. If the orthodox Nascent Soul monsters discovered him, there would be words at the least—and no small trouble for his sect at worst.

"As you will. Forgive me if I don't see you far," the middle-aged cultivator said, rising with a salute.

"Not at all, not at all—please." The big man returned the barest salute, his form swayed once or twice—and he was already beyond the dwelling, dissolving into a thread of yellow escape-light too fine to see, gone from the skies over Moon Pillar Peak.

Moments later, out from the dwelling's inner rooms came a bewitching girl of sixteen or seventeen, her eyes silken with charm, dressed in a short jacket of pale green over a gauze skirt that bared a supple waist—gliding gracefully toward the middle-aged cultivator. By her aura, she was, astonishingly, a cultivator of the Core Formation rank.

At the sight of her, the middle-aged cultivator's long beard fairly floated. All the poise and easy wit of the earlier conference dropped away, and open, unmistakable lechery crept into his eyes. "Precious," he said softly, "what brings you out?"

"I hear Uncle-Master Min just paid a visit. What—has my husband tired of me, and commissioned Uncle-Master Min to find him another concubine?" The girl's lips pushed into a small pout, her lovely eyes reproachful, her voice thick with wounded sweetness.

"What nonsense, precious! With you at my side, why would I glance at common rouge and powder?" The middle-aged cultivator smiled, opened his arm, and drew her into his embrace. His hand wandered freely along her exquisite curves as he chuckled: "If not for a beauty like you, would I ever have lowered myself to consort with your Yingzhou Heaven-Defying cultivators—and raise my hand against an old acquaintance's descendants?"

"Why—does my husband think it a poor bargain?" The girl nestled against his chest, her breath soft as orchids.

"Ha ha! A fine bargain—the finest!" The long-bearded cultivator laughed loud and long, swollen with satisfaction.