1.100 In which Ning has fun~
For Ling Yinran, the past few days had been an absolute bore.
Her junior brother was off in the tower. Her aunt had locked herself in the observation hall days ago, and the last thing Ling Yinran had heard out of her was some rambling about being a genius at teaching disciples. Hearing that alone told her everything she needed to know: her master was almost certainly making herself insufferable in front of the other elders again.
"There are quite a lot of people gathered near the tower today, don't you think, Yinran?" Zheng Mengqi asked, practically bouncing on her toes as she peered over the edge of the peak's outer terrace.
"Yes," Ling Yinran said, not looking up from the ledger in her hands. Supply counts. Spirit herb inventories. The small, tedious work of keeping a peak running while its two residents were both otherwise occupied. It was for this reason she'd called her friend Zheng Mengqi to accompany her.
"So are we finally going to meet this fabled junior brother of yours?" Zheng Mengqi asked. "I've got a few words for him, you know. Taking up so much of my dear Yinran's time."
"Please don't."
"You telling me not to only makes me want to do it more." Zheng Mengqi grinned. "Especially after everything you've said about how ridiculous his ideas are. I want to pick his brain myself."
"You're welcome to, if he allows it." Ling Yinran finally looked up. "Honestly, I think my junior brother deserves some credit. He's the only person who keeps Aunt in check and drags her out of her worst habits. Though the explosion count hasn't gone down much."
"Elder Ling Xin, kept in check?" Zheng Mengqi's eyes lit up. "You're only making me more curious by the second."
"Mm." Privately, Ling Yinran thought her junior brother was good for her aunt, the same way her aunt was good for him. Both of them radiated a particular kind of unhinged energy, and somehow that energy fed off itself rather than causing outright disaster. Well. Mostly.
After she'd learned Ning had once devised a way to use a storage bag to make off with someone else's clothes, she'd quietly filed him under people who required close supervision, right alongside her aunt.
But he was still her junior brother, and she still worried.
She was halfway through turning a page in the ledger when the front gate of Spiritual Flower Peak shuddered violently.
"What's happening? Did the earth dragon turn over?" Zheng Mengqi jumped to her feet as the ground shook beneath her.
An earthquake?
"This doesn't feel like the aftermath of two Foundation Establishment elders fighting at full strength," Ling Yinran muttered. "If that happened inside the sect, they'd be punished."
How she knew that was best left unasked. Her master had exploited that very rule more than once to discourage people from challenging her over one invention or another.
"So, it's natural? But if that's the case, then the earth path masters in the sect should have announced it beforehand." Zheng Mengqi added. "Maybe they are all busy sleeping or something; it would be pretty funny if that was the case."
"Probably." Both of them weren't worried; the buildings in the sect were reinforced, especially the spiritual flower peak's buildings, due to the sheer number of explosions they'd had to endure because of her aunt.
It was then, suddenly, both of them felt a presence.
Ling Yinran's head snapped up.
A man stood just inside the outer boundary, robes torn and filthy, chains still dangling broken from both wrists. His eyes were wild, darting across the peak's storage buildings with a hungry look.
"Oh?" He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "A little peak, all alone, practically begging to be picked clean. Don't mind me, girls. I'll just be taking whatever's valuable and be on my way."
Zheng Mengqi's mouth fell open. "Who let you onto the peak? Yinran, the boundary formation should have-"
She didn't get to finish.
A shape unfolded from beside the front step, silver light flashing as a jade puppet with a narrow, needle-fingered hand seized the man by the throat before he'd taken two more steps. He gagged, clawing uselessly at the grip, and White Thread simply held him there, patient and unmoving, until his struggling slowed to nothing.
Ling Yinran hadn't even reached for a talisman. She hadn't needed to.
"That answers that," she said flatly. She set the ledger down and walked toward the gate, eyes narrowing as she took in the man's chains, the state of his robes, the particular stupidity of a man who'd dare come and try to rob the lair of someone like Ling Xin. "You are not a disciple of the sect."
"W-wait, I can explain-"
"You don't need to." She flicked two fingers, and White Thread dragged him off toward the peak's holding shed. Then her gaze moved past the gate, toward the boundary array that should have screamed the moment anyone with his aura crossed it.
It hadn't done so at all.
Her expression went cold. "The early warning formation didn't trigger."
"What?" Zheng Mengqi hurried over. "That's impossible."
Ling Yinran crouched by the boundary stake and pressed two fingers to the formation plate embedded in the stone. There was no response at all. "It's not damaged. It's just off. As if someone cut the connection somewhere upstream."
The two of them exchanged a look.
"Let's go see what's happening," Ling Yinran said, already moving.
They didn't have to go far. The moment they cleared the tree line at the edge of the peak, the sound reached them first: a rolling wave of alarm bells, shouting, and something that might have been a beast's roar layered underneath it all. Smoke rose from at least three different directions across the mountain. Somewhere below, a formation flare burst red against the night sky and didn't fade.
"Is someone attacking the sect?" Zheng Mengqi asked, all her earlier bounce gone.
"Seems like it." Ling Yinran then used a token to activate the second-tier puppet at the peak. This puppet wasn't connected to the formation and worked just fine.
She always knew asking her aunt to invest in one would have its uses. It was totally not because she was drooling to examine a second-tier puppet firsthand or anything. Truly.
Above the square before the Heavenly Origin Tower, far in the distance but visible even from the peak, two enormous water-mirror screens hung suspended in the air, their surfaces flickering with unstable light.
"Screens? Are those showing people fighting?" Zheng Mengqi squinted at the floating projections. Her gaze landed on the one to the left. "Who's that? He's getting absolutely demolished."
Ling Yinran's expression changed instantly.
On the nearer screen, within a scorched corridor streaked with blood, stood a familiar figure. His robes were torn in several places, and blood ran down one side of his face as he faced an enemy far stronger than himself.
Her breath caught.
"That's Ning," she said, her voice tightening. "That's my junior brother."
She stared at the projection, her thoughts racing.
Why is he inside the Heavenly Origin Tower? Why is he fighting? And... why is all of this being shown outside?
The Heavenly Origin Tower had never publicly displayed its first five-floor trials before. Yet now, the entire sect was watching as though someone wanted every disciple and elder to witness what was happening inside.
Without another word, Ling Yinran broke into a run.
Zheng Mengqi hurried after her as they made their way toward the central square, where the crowd had already swollen into a sea of disciples. Shoulder pressed against shoulder, countless necks craned upward toward the enormous projections suspended above the plaza.
Ling Yinran pushed through the crowd without hesitation. The closer she drew, the clearer both screens became, and with them came the anxious murmurs spreading through the gathering.
"This looks like the screen from the tower trial. But where is that? I've never seen that floor."
"That looks like the lower sect prison."
"The lower prison? Impossible. Why would a trial disciple be there?"
Then someone near the back of the crowd shouted, voice cracking.
"That's Mei Long! I recognize him; my grandfather was a steward when they brought him in!"
Heads turned. The young disciple kept talking anyway to give all of the people information, as it was the norm among the disciples.
"He was a disciple of the Blood Fang Sect, decades ago. There was some kind of border dispute, and he ended up massacring three mortal villages trying to force a breakthrough. My grandfather said the death toll was in the hundreds."
"But that's not what makes him dangerous."
"Then what does?"
The young disciple's throat worked before he answered, like he didn't much like saying it out loud. "His supernatural ability. Wolf Devouring the Moon. It lets him shift into something between man and beast. My grandfather said the sect nearly lost three elders capturing him the first time."
A former Foundation Establishment cultivator?
Ling Yinran felt her heart tighten as she watched the battle unfold. Ning unleashed one talisman after another: fire, lightning, wind, each one carefully timed to slow Mei Long's advance or force him off balance. The attacks were clever, and under normal circumstances, more than enough to overwhelm an ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator. Yet against someone who had once stood in Foundation Establishment, they achieved almost nothing. Mei Long simply tore through them, each step carrying him inexorably closer.
Her fingers clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
Junior Brother. A terrifying thought surfaced despite every instinct telling her to reject it. The difference in strength was simply too great. If this continued...
No.
She bit down on her lip, her eyes refusing to leave the projection.
No, he won't die. He can't.
"Snap out of it, Yinran." Zheng Mengqi brought her out of her thinking.
"W-why is my junior brother fighting such a man? What the hell is happening?" Ling Yinran said. Her composure was cracking fast.
On the second one, two young men stood in some vast underground chamber, chains as thick as tree roots buried in the walls around them. Golden qi and dark lightning collided again and again, shaking the chamber walls with every clash.
Ling Yinran recognized one of them, Xiao Fan, though not because they were close. Because Ji Ning had mentioned him. Repeatedly. And in increasingly strange terms.
"Senior Sister," Ning had once told her, with the solemnity of a man reporting a natural disaster, "if you ever meet a disciple named Xiao Fan, please just leave immediately. That guy is a trouble magnet, so if you ever see him, run."
Ling Yinran didn't know what to say to that; she had never seen her junior brother so serious.
If it had been her aunt who was cautioned like that, she would have tried to meet this fellow out of sheer curiosity, but Ling Yinran understood there must be a deeper reason for this, and never really sought the guy out.
She hadn't fully understood it then. Watching the second screen now, she was starting to.
"Lei Dong!" Xiao Fan's voice rang through the mirror, a little distorted but still clear enough to understand. "What are you doing?"
She quickly understood that this was the name of the boy standing before Xiao Fan.
On the screen, Lei Dong stood near the central seal, his expression twisted between triumph and pain. Purple-black lightning crawled over his body, and beneath it, ancient chains of light had wrapped around his arms, sinking into his flesh.
"What am I doing?" Lei Dong laughed. "This is why I entered the tower. This is why I endured the trials. This is why all of this was arranged."
"You betrayed the sect."
Ling Yinran narrowed her eyes at the accusation. She had a feeling that everything would become clear in a few seconds.
"Betrayed?" His smile grew uglier. "This sect betrayed us first. The tower, the elders, the seat of sect master, the so-called righteous rules, all of it was stolen from my bloodline."
The tower spirit shouted, "Idiot! You don't understand what you're touching. That seal is meant to restrain Lei Shen."
"Hahahaha! You can't stop me. I know my purpose." With another talisman, Lei Dong broke the seal.
What happened next terrified even the stoic Ling Yinran.
"W-what's that?" Zheng Mengqi came closer to her.
Suddenly, a scream started as Lei Dong's body began to bloom with dark blood-red lines. "Wha-? Grand-Uncle? What are you doing?"
It was as if Lei Dong was losing control; half his face resembled the young boy from before, while the other had taken on a serene look.
"I am just doing what was planned. You did your job well, little Lei Dong. Leave it all to me. Your everything." Then, amid Lei Dong's scream and confusion, the muscles beneath his skin shifted. His eyes rolled back and opened again, filled with a deep purple aura far older and colder than his own.
When he spoke again, the voice no longer belonged to Lei Dong.
"Hehe... AHAHAHAHA! I'm back! I, Lei Shen, have returned!" Lei Shen threw his head back, laughing as ecstasy spread across his face. "Ah... spiritual qi. How long I've missed you."
The moment his name left his lips, the square outside the Heavenly Origin Tower erupted into chaos.
"Lei Shen?"
"The Purple Mansion traitor?"
"Impossible! Wasn't he sealed in the deepest prison?"
"How is he outside?"
Cold ran through Ling Yinran's fingers. Lei Shen, Lei Fu's brother, the old rebel sealed beneath the Heavenly Origin Tower, one of the Pure Qi Sect's biggest betrayals.
In the mirror, Lei Shen lifted Lei Dong's hand and looked at it with mild distaste. "A poor vessel, but useful enough. My descendant carried my blood, my mark, and the key Lei Fu prepared."
"For decades this sect kept me sealed beneath a formation that fed on the prison's own suppression field," Lei Shen said, almost conversational despite what he had just done. "So my brother and I built a plan. A second ritual, layered beneath the first, waiting for a night when the tower's authority would loosen on its own. Every time a disciple enters for trial, the formation opens itself just enough to test them. Every time it opens, my ritual drinks a little more from that gap."
The golden-eyed young man on the screen bared his teeth. "You used the trial itself."
"I used everything. The beasts loosed across your sect aren't chaos for its own sake; they're a drain, forcing every spare cultivator above to fight instead of reinforcing the tower. Every formation node my brother's people cut is one less thread holding the suppression array together. Piece by piece, this entire sect's protective formation is being unwound from the inside."
The chains ignited fully, purple light pouring down into the stone.
"When the last thread goes, I will not merely be free within this prison; the entire formation in the sect will go down. After that, you will see true horror, being besieged by others in the years to come." His smile stretched too wide for his borrowed face. "That is the ritual, little ant. A resurrection and the upcoming fall. And you are watching its final stage."
Xiao Fan stepped forward, golden qi rising around him. "Then I'll stop you before that happens."
Lei Shen's smile widened. "Well, do your best. Outside, Lei Fu should have already begun the plan. I won't kill you; I want to see your face upon witnessing the destruction of this sect you're defending."
As if answering those words, a roar split the sky outside the tower.
Ling Yinran turned sharply. Across the sect, alarms erupted, formation bells ringing from the inner mountain, smoke rising near the Beast Hall. A great shadow leapt over one of the distant courtyards, wings spread wide beneath the night sky, and several disciples screamed as a scaled beast crashed through a line of buildings, its body covered in binding brands that had clearly just been shattered. More roars followed, one from the eastern gardens, another from the outer training fields, another near the General Affairs Hall.
The crowd around Ling Yinran had gone eerily quiet, and then all at once, it wasn't. Several inner disciples drew swords and rushed toward the nearest roar. Others tried to reach their masters through transmission talismans, only to find them flickering uselessly in their hands.
Ling Yinran was one of them as she took out her own transmission jade. "Aunt."
Nothing answered but spiritual static.
"Aunt Ling Xin," she tried again.
The jade stayed dark.
That was impossible unless something was blocking communication, or her aunt was trapped somewhere and unable to answer.
"Then I can't wait for my aunt." Her voice didn't waver at the revelation; instead, her face became determined. "I'm going to the sect prison. My junior brother is down there fighting someone who outclasses him in every way, and I'm not going to stand here and just take it. No one bullies my junior brother."
"Alright! Let's kick some butt. I am with you."
Zheng Mengqi fell into step beside her without another word of protest, and the two of them ran through the burning square toward the Heavenly Origin Tower.
...
Lei Fu was a beast tamer, known for singlehandedly rearing several of the beasts in the sect.
In the past, it was a good thing to have such an accomplished beast tamer, but now, facing a riot of beasts, it was not so much a blessing.
At the northern gardens, a three-eyed black ape smashed through a medicine field wall, broken beast-taming chains still hanging from its neck, its body covered in shattered control brands, crushing spirit herbs that outer disciples had spent months raising. Several disciples screamed and scattered.
Then a sword light descended.
A young inner disciple in blue robes landed atop a stone lantern, sword held behind him, face pale but eyes steady. "Everyone run. We are the guards in charge of the inner sect. Formation A! Don't fight it alone; bind its legs first!"
Three younger disciples reacted at once. One threw a vine-binding talisman. Another struck the ground with a frost one. A third, trembling badly enough that his sleeves shook, still managed to activate a golden net formation. The ape charged, tore through all three in a single breath, but that breath was enough.
The blue-robed disciple's sword descended, and though the strike was nothing special, it was aimed very well. The sword light pierced the beast's third eye, and it staggered and crashed into the ground hard enough to shake the medicine fields.
The youngest disciple stared at him in awe. It was his first day serving with the Inner Sect Guard. "S-Senior Brother... that was incredible."
The blue-robed disciple sheathed his sword and gave the younger disciple a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You gave me the opening. Without those few moments, I couldn't have landed that strike."
The young disciple's eyes immediately lit up.
Before he could say another word, another deafening roar echoed from beyond the shattered wall.
The blue-robed disciple's smile disappeared.
"Save the excitement for later," he said, already turning toward the sound. "We still have much to do."
On the western side of the inner sect, the situation was stranger. A group of escaped criminals had burst from one of the underground prison exits, expecting panic, easy hostages, and a chance to take revenge on the sect before fleeing into the night. Unfortunately for them, they emerged beside the kitchen courtyard.
The kitchen courtyard wasn't as famous as some other factions, but it was still recognized as the foremost place for spiritual cooking in the sect. Plus, it did have twenty-seven outer and inner disciples preparing late-night medicinal meals for those waiting near the Heavenly Origin Tower, three cauldrons of boiling spirit-oil, seven cleavers, and a head cook who'd once served in a border garrison before deciding that cooking was less stressful. Which, in hindsight, couldn't have been more wrong.
The first criminal climbed out laughing wildly. "I am free!"
A reinforced iron ladle, the kind used to stir bone-marrow soup in a spiritual cauldron, caught him full in the face. He fell back into the hole with a scream.
The second criminal emerged right after, only to be greeted by a wave of boiling spirit-oil. He howled, rolled across the ground, and got hit by three chopping boards, two fire-control talismans, and a thrown jar of pickled thunder peppers for his trouble.
The head cook raised his cleaver. "Kitchen disciples!"
Twenty-six voices answered in panic and fury. "Yes, Senior Brother!"
"Protect the soup!"
"For the sect?"
"For the soup!"
The escaped criminals, men who'd committed innumerable crimes, found themselves being beaten back into the prison exit with wok lids, spice jars, and terrifyingly accurate vegetable knives. One old criminal, hair white, his aura still faintly at peak Qi Condensation, stared in disbelief as a young kitchen disciple, Fatty Li, threw something into his face and shouted, "Blindness Powder!"
The criminal quickly covered his eyes, but his lips had already tasted it. "Damn you! This is just flour."
"Brother Ning said, if it works, then it works."
"Not bad, little Li. You're crushing it." The head cook said, using his cleaver to injure the cultivator in one stroke.
"Hehe. I'm just using what I've learned." Fatty Li said, then looked up at the screen where Ning and Xiao Fan were doing everything they could to fight.
Brother Ning and Brother Xiao Fan would definitely survive. With such thoughts, Fatty Li moved, ready to attack other criminals for daring to target his friends.
Near the Beast Hall, the fighting was less amusing. Several enclosures had been opened from the inside, their control brands tampered with, and spirit wolves, armored lizards, horned cranes, and other creatures rampaged through the courtyards, attacking anyone who came near. But the Beast Hall disciples weren't helpless.
For heaven's sake, their whole schtick was taming unruly beasts with the power of their fists, then winning them over with love and friendship.
A tall female disciple with a whip stood atop the head of a blue-scaled bull, her hair flying wildly in the wind as she shouted commands across the courtyard. "Don't kill the young ones! Their control marks were tampered with! Subdue them first. Kill only if they can't be restrained!"
Around her, Beast Hall disciples broke off in pairs and trios, each flanked by their own bonded beasts, moving to meet the rampaging creatures head-on rather than simply defend.
A stocky red lizard, its claws digging into the stone, slammed shoulder-first into a charging spirit wolf's front legs before it could reach a fleeing steward. The wolf yelped and toppled sideways into a flowerbed, and before it could scramble upright, the lizard's tail whipped twice around its snout, cinching its jaws shut. It thrashed and muffled to no avail.
"Nicely done!" the whip-wielding disciple called, already turning toward the next threat. A horned crane circled in from the side, murder in its eyes. She raised her arm, and a hulking iron-feathered crane dropped out of the sky to meet it, wings striking wings and driving the wild crane sideways into a wall hard enough to crack the stone.
"Senior Sister," the junior disciple said, ducking as a loose feather flew past his face, "that's terrible strategy. If they know each other's tricks, doesn't that mean they're evenly matched?"
She blinked. "...Huh."
Before she could think too hard about it, the iron-feathered crane slammed the wild crane out of the air with a triumphant screech.
"...See?" she said immediately, pointing at the result. "It worked. My strategy isn't stupid."
"Senior Sister, if it's stupid and it works, then it's still stupid. It's just a miracle that it worked," the junior disciple said blandly.
"Y-You shut up!" she shot back, puffing out her cheeks. "I was simply demonstrating that my crane is stronger through overwhelming force. Beasts respect strength above all else. Once they realize they can't win, they'll naturally lose the will to resist and surrender."
She stumbled through the first half of the explanation, but by the end, she sounded so confident that even she seemed convinced.
The junior disciple considered her words for a moment before giving a slow nod.
"...You know what? That's actually not a terrible strategy."
Whether or not it had been her original intention hardly mattered anymore. Against beasts, overwhelming them into submission really was a valid approach.
Deciding there were better uses of his time than debating with his Senior Sister, he wisely let the matter rest.
"Mwahaha! Exactly!" Yangyang threw her hands onto her hips and laughed triumphantly. "At last, someone recognizes my genius!"
Elsewhere across the courtyard, the pattern repeated itself. A disciple with a scarred jaw sent his hawk shrieking after a half-demonic bat, the two of them wheeling and diving through the smoke until the bat, disoriented and exhausted, dropped low enough for a thrown net to catch it. Another disciple simply stood her ground as her own armored serpent coiled around a wild one twice its size, squeezing until the wild beast stopped struggling.
One by one, the beasts fell, pinned, exhausted, or muzzled shut by their own kind. This was the difference between beasts that were wild and those that had bonded with a beast tamer. The strength of a beast and its beast tamer was not a simple one plus one equals two. Rather, it was multiplicative in nature.
"Bind them!" the senior sister shouted, already crouched beside the half-strangled wolf and slapping a talisman across its brow. Golden characters flared, then dimmed into a faint, steady glow. Two more disciples moved in with coils of spirit rope, looping them tightly around the beast's legs before it could recover its wits.
Across the courtyard, the same scene played out again and again: beast pressed down by beast, talisman pressed to brow, spirit rope cinched tight, until one by one the escaped creatures were dragged, growling and bound, back toward the holding pens.
The junior disciple wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at his senior sister, who was now admiring her handiwork with entirely too much pride for someone who had nearly been trampled twice. He decided, not for the first time, that it wasn't worth the argument.
Elsewhere, the Formation Hall had become a battlefield of its own. Normally, the formation masters spent their days arguing over spirit veins and array geometry. Today, they were being escorted across the sect by the Discipline Committee.
A blood-crazed criminal lunged from an alley, but three sword flashes later, he was no more.
"Keep moving!"
An Iron-Tusk Boar burst through a courtyard wall. The escort met it head-on. Sword lights crisscrossed the boar, and moments later the beast crashed to the ground, dead.
The formation masters never slowed, even as they watched the screen in the sky.
On the screen beside Xiao Fan, a ritual was continuing. In the ritual, one could see a miniature version of the sect's core formation. The normally golden threads making up the formation were being dyed blood red; when the whole miniature formation turned completely red, Lei Shen would win.
One formation master pointed at the projection. "Trace every blood thread. We don't have time to repair the entire formation. Untangle whatever Lei Shen and his group tampered with and reverse it section by section."
Dozens of formation disks lit up.
Calculations began immediately.
One younger formation master clenched his fists. "...Please hold on."
Xiao Fan was sent flying yet again by Lei Shen. Even though he was using Fist Intent and everything else, he still appeared to be no match.
"We only need more time."
Every moment Xiao Fan stayed alive was another section of the formation they could reclaim.
"Faster!" an elder barked. "Ignore everything else! Solve it. As long as we can take control of the central formation, we can use it to safeguard this entire place."
They were not joking. The reason the formation being disrupted was such a big deal was that it was the thing that protected the sect the most. As long as the formation ran smoothly, unless a Nascent Soul cultivator attacked head-on, the Pure Qi Sect would remain standing; formations were just that powerful.
On the other hand, at the alchemist peaks, the alchemists didn't share the same worry as the formation masters.
One of them happily dragged over a half-conscious criminal cultivator, whose robes had long since burned away, leaving his body covered in blackened scorch marks.
"Got another one!" Li Wei announced with a grin.
Another alchemist looked over with mild concern. "Um... Junior Brother Li, isn't this a little inappropriate?"
"Eh?" Li Wei blinked. "When else are we going to find so many criminal cultivators to test our newly developed pills on?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before looking toward the older alchemist. "Plus, there's no law against experimenting on criminal cultivators, senior... right?"
Suffice it to say, neither the escaped prisoners nor the rampaging spirit beasts that wandered into the Alchemy Peaks had a particularly pleasant experience.
Foundation Establishment Cultivators were also not idle.
On a stone bridge above a river of spiritual mist, two Foundation Establishment cultivators clashed, one in the dark green robes of the Discipline Hall, the other in the Lei faction's silver-edged uniform. Their sword lights struck again and again, waves of qi rolling across the bridge while inner disciples fought in scattered groups below, none of them daring to approach the center.
The Lei cultivator laughed coldly. "Give up. Elder Lei Fu has planned this for years. By the time the elders who were trapped break free, Lei Shen will already have returned."
This story originates from NovelPhoenix. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The Discipline Hall cultivator's face was pale, blood running from one corner of his mouth, but his sword didn't lower. "Then I only need to hold you here until someone better arrives."
"Someone better? Who?"
A beam of sword light dropped out of the sky. The Lei cultivator barely blocked it in time, the impact driving him back three steps, as a woman in white robes landed on the bridge with her sword humming.
The Discipline Hall cultivator coughed once and smiled. "Someone better."
The Lei cultivator's face went ugly.
Similar battles erupted across the mountain, one after another. But despite everything, it showed one thing: the Pure Qi Sect was not going down without a fight.
Yet while disciples and elders fought across the mountain, one man wasn't fighting for the sect at all.
Zhou Chen was looting.
He moved through a restricted side hall near the eastern formation district, one hand pressed against a storage bracelet, the other flipping through jade boxes behind a broken formation.
Zhou Chen's face was dark with irritation. Things had gone worse than expected. The elders had been trapped, yes. The tower's authority had been shaken, yes. Lei Fu's people had moved, yes. But there'd been too much noise, too many beasts released at once, too many prisoners waking early, too many disciples resisting harder than expected.
Worse, Xiao Fan, that rat was still alive.
Zhou Chen had watched the water mirror. He'd watched that little beast enter the deepest layer and face Lei Dong, or rather Lei Shen now, and somehow survive exchanges that should have crushed a normal Qi Condensation disciple into paste.
Xiao Fan again. Always Xiao Fan. His son Zhou Sheng had been humiliated because of Xiao Fan. His plans had been obstructed because of Xiao Fan. Even now, with the sect collapsing into rebellion, the brat somehow stood at the center of it.
"Pest of a brat," Zhou Chen muttered coldly, without quite understanding why the phrase irritated him so much.
He forced open another jade box. A small vial of spirit marrow liquid sat inside. His eyes brightened. "Good." He slipped it into his bracelet.
Then a voice came from behind him.
"Elder Zhou."
Zhou Chen froze.
The voice calling out to him was soft, almost gentle.
He turned slowly.
A young woman stood at the entrance of the hall, pale blue robes edged in white, hair as white as winter snow falling past her shoulders in smooth waves, features delicate enough to seem carved from jade. She was a jade beauty who could make the moon blush with how perfect she looked.
"Xiao Qing," he said.
Xiao Qing, the first Foundation Establishment cultivator to emerge from the recent batch. A genius said to rival the sect leader. A talent that was already making waves.
If Xiao Fan and Ning were considered prospective talents, Xiao Qing had already begun to bloom.
And worst of all, she was Xiao Fan's adopted sister.
She stepped into the hall, water vapor gathering around her feet and spreading across the floor in thin silver mist, a slender sword resting in her hand, its blade pale blue and nearly transparent. Outside, the distant sounds of battle continued. Inside, everything went quiet.
Zhou Chen's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"
She looked past him at the jade boxes, the broken formation, the bracelet at his wrist, then back at his face. "That's what I want to ask you. Everyone is fighting, but you're here taking things without joining the fight."
"The sect is collapsing. Resources must be preserved."
"In your storage bracelet?" Xiao Qing asked calmly.
"I am an elder; it is my duty to preserve such resources. In fact, it is me who is thinking deeply for the sect." Zhou Chen regained his composure and answered confidently.
"Well, for a thief, you sure know how to spin a tale."
"What did you say?" Zhou Chen's expression darkened. "You should watch your words."
Xiao Qing's hand tightened around her sword. "I've watched enough."
Through the open doors, the water mirror still showed Xiao Fan's fight in the distance, golden qi erupting around him again as, for the umpteenth time, he charged in once more, his Final Star Break in tow.
Xiao Qing looked toward it. The coldness in her eyes didn't soften at the scene at all. "My brother is fighting below. I know you're one of the conspirators."
Zhou Chen's face went blank as he tried to find a hint of doubt in Xiao Qing's expression, but the sheer coldness in it made him understand she believed it fully. So he dropped his act and laughed. "Well, I won't confirm or deny it. Also, don't you think you should try to reach your brother instead? He's going to die at this rate, you know."
Zhou Chen continued to speak without pause.
"Do you truly think a low-grade-root brat can stand against Lei Shen? Against a Purple Mansion master, even if he's only at Qi Condensation now? Xiao Fan was lucky for a while. Luck ends."
"My brother's luck isn't what bothers people like you," she said. "It's that he keeps standing up after you decide he should stay down."
For the first time, real anger crossed Zhou Chen's face. "You siblings truly share the same arrogance."
She walked forward slowly, water mist trailing each step. "I have wanted to kill you for a long time."
He stared, then laughed. "You? You're in early Foundation Establishment, and I am in mid-stage Foundation Establishment and have decades of experience. I don't think you understand the situation here."
"I do, but you are the one mistaken." She stopped ten steps away. "I didn't act before because my brother wouldn't have wanted it. He's the type who gets stronger through adversity. If I killed every fool who obstructed him, he'd only complain I was interfering with his path." Her gaze sharpened. "But today you have gone a bit too far."
"I have no interest in wasting time with a little girl," Zhou Chen said. "Back off, and I might pretend I didn't hear that."
"Are you afraid?"
His aura surged, cracking shelves and rattling jade boxes as a mid-stage Foundation Establishment pressure filled the hall like a heavy tide. "You need discipline."
Her white hair shifted in the cold wind gathering around her, and her sword hummed. "Many people have tried. None were qualified."
He attacked without holding back, a palm wrapped in dense earth-yellow qi compressing into the shape of a stone hand large enough to crush half the hall, heavy and tyrannical, a dense wave of qi behind it.
Xiao Qing simply stepped forward. Water rose beneath her feet, thin streams spiraling up from the floor and carrying the edge of sword qi, and her blade drew a single line through the air.
The stone palm split with a single slice.
Zhou Chen's expression paled at having his attack broken, and the sword-water slash continued to reach him. But it was already too late. His earth armor formed across his chest, too shallow, and the sword light passed through all of it.
Blood sprayed. He flew backward into the shelves, jade boxes exploding around him, spirit herbs and pills and broken talisman cases scattering across the floor. He landed on one knee, his right arm hanging useless, a deep wound crossing from shoulder to ribs so cold that frost gathered at its edges instead of steam.
He stared at the blood dripping from his body. "Th-this is impossible."
A single attack to end all opposition.
Xiao Qing lowered her sword slightly, mist curling around the blade. "Impossible is for rotten people like you."
Zhou Chen gulped.
She appeared before him, silent, carried by water, the tip of her sword resting against his throat.
Her face was still beautiful, still calm, but the look in her eyes had gone past cold into something possessive, protective, and terrifyingly gentle.
"You made my brother suffer," she said softly. "Do you know how many times I told myself it was fine? That he needed tempering, that enemies sharpened him, that if I killed you he'd only frown and tell me he had it handled?"
He swallowed. The sword tip pressed lightly into his skin, a single bead of blood forming.
She smiled, small and almost tender to look at. "That was very mature of me."
His face went pale. "Xiao Qing, wait-"
"I'm done being mature."
She didn't kill him. That would have been too quick. Water threads rose from the floor and wrapped around his limbs, entering his wounds as cold streams of sword qi, freezing meridians, sealing acupoints, cutting just deep enough to make every movement agony without ending his life.
Each time he moved, the threads would cut him, and even without moving, the threads pierced through his nerves, making the pain even more unbearable.
Outside, Xiao Fan's Fist Intent erupted again against Lei Shen's lightning, and her eyes softened by the smallest amount. "Hold on, Brother. I will come get you."
"Y-you demon..." Zhou Chen felt the pain through his body as the threads pierced deeper.
He looked up, seeing Xiao Qing, and what he saw terrified him.
"It seems you can still talk." The sheer madness swirling in Xiao Qing's eyes as she suddenly looked at him and fed him a pill was the stuff of nightmares. "This is a pill for increasing sensitivity. Elder Zhou, it seems that this much isn't enough."
Zhou Chen's eyes grew dark, and then, amid Xiao Qing's laughter, he started to scream like a pig.
Elsewhere in the chaos, a group of escaped criminals rushed into a quiet bamboo courtyard and never came out again.
No screams lasted longer than a breath.
A figure stood among the dead criminals.
"Intriguing," the figure murmured. "One is only mid-stage Qi Condensation, yet he can comprehend Fist Intent and survive against a possessed purple mansion cultivator. The other turned external objects into internal strength and can handle a former Foundation Establishment cultivator."
Similar to this unknown man, another unknown woman looked at the screen; in her hands was a peak Qi Condensation beast that had escaped, made as docile as possible. "That's not something you see every day."
Farther away, atop the broken roof of a hall, another nameless disciple sat with one knee raised, utterly engrossed in Ning's water mirror.
Only when Mei Long burst apart from within did his eyes finally brighten.
"How interesting," he murmured. "Did he calculate everything from the beginning just to force that final opening? He's the type of opponent I'd like to fight."
His gaze then shifted to the other water mirror.
Xiao Fan stood before Lei Shen despite the overwhelming difference in cultivation, refusing to take even a single step back. The nameless disciple let out a faint chuckle as he watched.
"Charging straight at an enemy you know you can't defeat..." He slowly shook his head, yet the smile on his face only grew wider. "It's a foolish way to fight."
He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes never leaving the screen.
"I like it."
Below him, more prisoners rushed through the alley.
The disciple stood, still smiling.
"This newer batch of disciples is more interesting than expected."
...
To Qi Condensation disciples, Foundation Establishment was already a mountain.
To Foundation Establishment cultivators, Purple Mansion could be considered the sky above that mountain.
The gap was not merely more spiritual energy. It was a transformation of the inner world and the outer one. A Foundation Establishment cultivator built their foundation, shaped their qi, and turned accumulated cultivation into true power. A Purple Mansion cultivator, however, had opened the inner mansion above the foundation, condensed vast spiritual reserves, and begun to make heaven and earth answer to a single thought.
Below Golden Core, they were the pillars of a sect.
And within the Pure Qi Sect, aside from Sect Master Ge Xuan, they were the strongest people alive.
Today, two such pillars faced each other above the inner mountain.
Lei Fu stood on the back of a great black-feathered crane, his long robes whipping violently in the wind. His hair was white, his face old, but his eyes still burned with storm-light. Beast shadows roared around him: wolf, serpent, crane, tiger, ape, each condensed from his spiritual energy, beast-taming techniques, and the deep mark of his Purple Mansion.
Opposite him stood Elder Yun Feifei.
Her plain white robes were stained with dust and blood at the sleeves. Her hair was tied with a blue ribbon, and a round jade pendant glowed faintly at her waist. She did not look as imposing as Lei Fu. But every beast shadow that lunged at her was swallowed by falling rain, slowed by moonlit water, and cut apart by thin strands of blue-white qi.
"Teacher," Yun Feifei said, her voice carrying through the storm, "stop this."
Lei Fu's expression tightened. That one word struck him hard. For one breath, the beast shadows around him slowed.
Below them, the sect was burning. Beasts ran through courtyards. Prisoners fled through broken seal exits. Foundation Establishment cultivators loyal to him fought against elders and stewards still holding the line. Disciples gathered into formations, some terrified, some bleeding, some barely old enough to have seen a true death battle before tonight.
Yun Feifei looked down at all of it, and grief sharpened her voice. "Disciples are dying. Is this what you wanted?"
His lips pressed together, and the black crane beneath him let out a low cry. "What I wanted?" For a moment the fury in his eyes dimmed, leaving something older beneath it. Tiredness and pain. A wound that had never closed. "You think I wanted this?"
She held her hand out, rain gathering around her fingers into a curved blade of water. "Then stop."
Lei Shen looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "You've always been too kind, Feifei."
"You taught me to be."
A faint, almost self-mocking smile crossed his face. "No. I taught you how to survive."
Yun Feifei met his gaze without wavering. "You taught me that a sect isn't its mountains, its halls, or its techniques." Her grip tightened around the water blade. "It's the people who inherit them. You were the one who told me that."
His face twitched. The words were his own, spoken years ago to a young girl standing in the rain with scraped palms and stubborn eyes. She'd been his disciple once, not officially recorded, but close enough that everyone had known. He'd guided her through Foundation Establishment, corrected her water arts, found resources for her breakthrough, protected her from factional pressure, even scolded elders who'd wanted to use her as a bargaining chip.
She owed him much. That was why this hurt.
Lei Fu closed his eyes briefly. "When I was young, I wasn't the talented one." The beast shadows lowered slightly. "My brother was. Lei Shen was the storm of our generation. I was only his shadow. When others mocked me for slow comprehension, he beat them until they apologized. When I failed to break through, he stole spirit herbs from our family storehouse and sat outside my cave for three days to make sure no one interrupted me. When I wanted to give up, he dragged me to the training field and told me that if heaven didn't favor me, then he'd make heaven regret its blindness."
A complicated expression crossed Yun Feifei's face.
Lei Fu let out a bitter laugh. "He was arrogant. Violent. Proud beyond reason. But he was also my brother... the first person who truly believed I had a place in this world."
Thunder rumbled across the sky.
"Then Ge Xuan appeared," Lei Fu continued, his voice growing colder. "He was everything my brother wasn't. Carefree. Irresponsible. He'd disappear for months, then stroll back into the sect with a wineskin in one hand and his sword in the other, acting as though the world owed him nothing. My brother devoted everything to this sect, yet when the opportunity to advance to Core Formation arrived..." His eyes hardened. "It was Ge Xuan who received it."
"Sect Master Ge earned it," Yun Feifei spoke.
"Perhaps." The word came out bitter. "Perhaps he did. Perhaps my brother's heart was too fierce. Perhaps his methods were too ruthless. Perhaps the elders were right to fear what he'd become with more power. But tell me, Feifei. If the sect truly feared him so much, why didn't they kill him?"
She didn't answer.
"Because even after rebellion, he was still useful. Because killing him would have broken the Lei faction beyond repair. Because his knowledge, his bloodline, his thunder arts, his name, all of it still had weight. So they sealed him. Buried him under the tower, and called it mercy." His voice lowered. "For decades I listened to my brother breathe beneath this mountain. For decades I tried to get him out, searching old records, studying the tower's formation nodes, bribing guards, raising beasts, building influence. I waited. Again and again, I failed."
Yun Feifei's gaze softened despite herself. "Teacher..."
"Then someone came to me."
Her eyes sharpened. "Who?"
Lei Fu looked toward the tower in the distance. "Years ago. Someone who knew too much. Not only about me, but also Lei Fu, as well as the Heavenly Origin Tower."
"Who?" she asked again, colder this time.
Lei Fu smiled sadly. "At this point... does it even matter?"
"Yes," Yun Feifei answered without hesitation. "Tell me who it is."
If she could uncover the mastermind behind everything, perhaps the sect would see that Lei Fu had not acted alone. Perhaps... there was still room for mercy.
It was a slim hope. But it was hope nonetheless.
Lei Fu slowly shook his head as his aura began to rise once more. "No. It's already too late."
Yun Feifei tightened her grip on the water blade.
"It isn't too late while the sect still stands."
Lei Fu looked down at the burning courtyards below, his eyes trembling. He loved the Pure Qi Sect. That was the cruelest part of it. He'd grown here, cultivated here, taught disciples here, buried friends here, watched generations enter as trembling outer disciples and leave as elders, stewards, wanderers, or corpses.
This was his home. But Lei Shen was his brother, and that old debt had never been repaid.
"I love the sect," Lei Fu said quietly. "But I loved him first."
Yun Feifei's expression was the very definition of grief. "Then you're willing to sacrifice all of us for him?"
He didn't answer directly. He lifted one hand instead, and the beast shadows roared.
Yun Feifei moved, and the battle resumed.
A storm-wolf shadow lunged first.
It was not a simple beast-shaped technique. At Foundation Establishment, a cultivator could condense qi into form, shaping flames into birds, water into dragons, and sword qi into blades. But Lei Fu's wolf was different. Its yellow eyes held a trace of savage intelligence, as though a real beast soul had been dragged out of memory and given a temporary body through spiritual power.
This was Purple Mansion.
Lei Fu stood upon the back of the black-feathered crane and pointed once. The storm-wolf crossed a hundred feet in a blink, carrying with it not only beast qi, but the pressure of a whole spiritual mansion. The clouds above shifted with its charge. The wind below bent toward its claws. Even the loose roof tiles on distant halls rattled, pulled by the momentum of the battle.
Yun Feifei raised her palm in answer.
Rain fell upward. Droplets appeared from the space around her, from the moisture hidden in the air, from the spiritual energy gathering beneath her will. Each drop reflected a pale moon that could not possibly exist normally. In the next breath, those droplets stretched thin and became blades.
The rain-blades cut through the wolf's chest as its body scattered into mist.
But Lei Fu's finger had not yet lowered.
A serpent of black lightning coiled through the shattered wolf shadow, using the broken beast qi as cover. It moved along a path no ordinary attack should have had, curving behind Yun Feifei as if the air itself had become a tunnel for it.
Yun Feifei turned her sword; behind her, the faint image of a moonlit lake appeared.
It was the outer shadow of her Purple Mansion.
At Qi Condensation, spiritual energy flowed through meridians. At Foundation Establishment, qi gathered upon a Dao foundation and became dense enough to support true arts. But at Purple Mansion, the cultivator's inner world began to cast itself outward. The mansion within the dantian became a source, a residence of qi and intent, and when its gates opened, heaven and earth answered as if a small domain had descended.
For Yun Feifei, that domain was moonlit water.
The lightning serpent struck the water wall and vanished into its depths.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator might have blocked it with force, shattered it with a sword, or dodged it with movement. Yun Feifei did not merely defend. No, her Purple Mansion swallowed the attack, pulled it into the reflection of the lake, and changed the place where it could emerge.
Yet Lei Fu was prepared.
The black lightning burst out from beneath Yun Feifei's feet a breath later.
He had taught her water arts. He had seen her form the first outline of her Purple Mansion. He knew that she favored absorption over destruction, redirection over collision, defense that turned into counterattack, and much more about this not-disciple of his.
So he made the attack one she would instinctively swallow, having the serpent open its jaws wide and strike even as it was being swallowed.
Yun Feifei stepped onto a falling droplet.
The droplet beneath her foot reflected the moon behind her, and the moon reflected another drop thirty feet away. In that flicker of reflection, Yun Feifei crossed the distance as though walking across the surface of her own Purple Mansion.
The lightning serpent exploded where she had been.
Purple-black arcs slammed into the mountain below, cracking several roofs and sending disciples stumbling even hundreds of feet away.
Their battle was no longer a contest of single moves, spells, or even martial arts.
Domain against domain.
Inner world against Inner world.
Lei Fu spread his sleeves.
For an instant, the two Purple Mansions pressed against each other.
The sky seemed to change color due to the sheer aura the two of them exuded.
Below, the Foundation Establishment cultivators protecting the formation nodes felt the pressure fall upon their shoulders like a mountain. Several Qi Condensation disciples collapsed to their knees. Even the released beasts froze for a moment, instincts screaming that two higher predators had claimed the heavens above them.
After several exchanges, Lei Fu finally spoke. "Feifei, come with me."
Yun Feifei's sword paused for a fraction of a breath.
"Ge Xuan won't save this sect forever. You know his nature. A sect master who leaves the mountain more than he guards it."
"Sect Master has protected us many times." Yun Feifei was not to be outdone by the psychological warfare. A battle was as much about the mind as the body.
"And disappeared many times." Lei Fu's voice softened. "You are talented, Feifei. But not enough."
The words landed heavy as Yun Feifei clutched her sword harder.
"You know it too. Your Purple Mansion is stable, but not exceptional. Your water art is refined, but lacks the killing edge. You may live two hundred more years and still not touch Golden Core."
Yun FeiFei's face paled slightly.
"When the next great resource appears, do you think they'll give it to you? No. They'll save it for some younger seed, some disciple with greater talent, some rising genius who makes the elders dream again. You'll become another pillar holding the sect upright until your lifespan thins, and when you die, they'll praise your loyalty and move on." His voice went almost gentle. "Come with me. Help my brother rise. When Lei Shen regains his strength, we'll reshape this sect. Those who deserve resources will finally receive them. I can still make a path for you."
She lowered her eyes. For a moment, she wavered, not from any desire to betray, but because he'd spoken the truth. She knew her own talent. She knew how difficult Golden Core was. She knew she might never advance another realm in her lifetime.
He'd seen that fear long before anyone else. He'd been her teacher, after all.
Then below, a disciple shouted, "Hold the line!"
Another voice answered, "Don't let the beasts pass!"
A crooked formation of Qi Condensation disciples held their ground near the base of the inner mountain, sword lights uneven, talismans cheap, one disciple bleeding from the head while still dragging an injured junior behind him. They were terribly weak. But they still stood between the released beasts and the outer residential courtyards.
Lei Fu watched her silently. "Look at them," he said. "They're loyal to the sect. But tell me, would the sect be just as loyal to them?"
Yun Feifei found herself unable to answer immediately.
She had lived within the sect long enough to know that reality was rarely so simple. Disciples died every year. Some names were remembered, most quietly faded away. The sect mourned them, rewarded their families when it could, and then continued onward.
It was simply the way a sect survived.
Her grip on her sword tightened ever so slightly.
Then the water mirrors hanging above the square suddenly rippled.
On one screen, Xiao Fan staggered beneath a torrent of purple lightning. His body was already covered in wounds, his incomplete Fist Intent shattered again and again, yet every time he was knocked down, he forced himself back to his feet and threw another punch.
On the other hand, scarlet-gold light erupted from within Mei Long's body. The former Foundation Establishment cultivator froze before bursting apart, blood spraying across the corridor as Ji Ning collapsed to one knee, barely able to remain conscious.
One disciple had refused to yield.
The other had accomplished the impossible.
The disciples hadn't given up yet. How dare she do otherwise?
Yun Feifei stared at the two water mirrors for a long moment before slowly raising her sword once more.
"No." Her voice was soft, but utterly unwavering. "The sect is my home."
Lei Fu's expression darkened. He had not expected her resolve to harden instead. The sect always stationed two Purple Mansion cultivators to guard the Heavenly Origin Tower, which was why he had chosen Yun Feifei to accompany him. He had believed their years as master and disciple would be enough to persuade her.
"Home?" His voice sharpened. "A home that will use you until your bones grow old?"
Rain gathered around Yun Feifei's blade.
"A home isn't measured by what it gives me." Her eyes never left him. "It's measured by what I choose to protect. There are disciples below me who cannot survive if I step aside. Elders risking their lives to hold the formation. Stewards refusing to abandon their posts."
She looked once more toward the water mirrors.
"And there are two Qi Condensation disciples fighting enemies they should never have faced because no one stronger reached them in time."
Her grip tightened around her sword.
"If they can still stand..." The rain around her blade surged. "Then so can I."
Lei Fu's expression remained blank. He knew there was no turning back. Once a Purple Mansion cultivator made up their mind, their will would not be changed easily.
He lifted his hand. Far below, at the heart of the inner sect gardens, something ancient moved. At first it looked like the mountain itself was shifting. Then roots burst through the earth, and a great willow tree rose from the ground, its trunk wider than a hall, its branches hanging like countless green curtains, a tree that had stood there for generations, worshipped as the guardian spirit, a symbol of the sect's long life and gentle fortune.
Its leaves now glowed with purple-black marks.
"The Great Spirit Willow?" Yun Feifei's face changed as its branches lifted, each hanging strand becoming a whip tearing through courtyards.
Every village in the Eastern Wilderness had the habit of enshrining a guardian spirit, and the willow tree was the one that protected the Pure Qi Sect. It was a mighty tree capable of rivaling a Purple Mansion cultivator.
She rounded on him. "You controlled the guardian plant? How?"
"I tended it for many years. Fed it. Cultivated it. Learned its root patterns." Lei Fu's eyes had gone cold. "Did you think my beasts were limited to those that walked?"
The willow lashed toward her. Before its branches could reach, several figures shot into the sky, Foundation Establishment cultivators, elders and stewards and hall masters who'd finally gathered from across the sect, some wounded, some in torn robes, one with beast blood streaked across half his face. Together they formed a ring around the tree.
"Bind the roots!" someone shouted.
"Use the Five Direction Locking Formation!"
"Don't destroy the trunk! It's still the sect's guardian!"
Five cultivators landed around the willow and struck the ground together, formation flags flying out, golden lines spreading across the earth to lock onto its roots. Then ten more joined it to contain it. The great tree shuddered, branches thrashing against the formation.
A steward with a bloody forehead looked up at Yun Feifei. "Elder Yun! We'll hold the willow! Stop Lei Fu!"
Another added, "The message has gone out. The other Purple Mansion elders have been contacted. Sect Master Ge Xuan has also been called back!"
Lei Fu's eyes narrowed.
The weight on Yun Feifei's shoulders eased, if only by a fraction. "It seems that despite everything, the guardian spirit you brought out won't play as major a role as you expected."
Lei Fu grunted. "You seem to be mistaken. I don't need the tree to defeat you. I taught you everything you know, but not everything I know."
And so the battle continued.
...
Ning had never truly appreciated Alchemy Qi more than he did at that moment.
While he had used it to accelerate his cultivation by increasing the efficiency of pills, it was only today that he truly appreciated how much more it could do.
The only reason he won was that he'd been doping as much as possible.
Right now, Ning was grateful enough to build Ling Xin a shrine.
A small one, perhaps. Nothing too extravagant. His finances had already suffered enough tonight. But spiritually, at least, the intention was sincere.
He lay against the blood-slick stone wall for several breaths, trying to assess the injuries.
His arms were the worst.
Mei Long's Heaven-Crushing Wolf Bite had sunk through defensive talismans, his robe formation, Jade Skin, Icy Meridians, and still left deep fang wounds along both forearms. Some of his bones were definitely broken or on the verge of breaking, but that was only because every defensive layer he owned had done its very best to protect him.
His shoulder was torn open from one of Mei Long's claw strikes. His ribs were bruised, cracked in at least two places. His back had slammed into stone often enough that he was beginning to develop personal grudges against walls as a concept.
Stupid walls and their hardness. Ning grumbled.
But despite it all, he was healing. The second-tier healing pill given to him by his master- he really should build her a shrine- was working, the Alchemy Qi helping it heal him as much as possible.
"Thankfully, cultivators are built to take hits despite the worst of it." Ning took a deep breath, converging his spiritual energy as he assessed his situation.
First, after using the Alchemy Qi for this final pill, all the accumulated Alchemy Qi he had was gone. Months of work spent in an instant.
His trump cards were even worse.
His defensive robes were beyond saving; all his second-tier talismans and first-tier talismans had been used, not to mention how his Love and Friendship were both in worse condition.
"I can already feel poverty waving at me," Ning sighed.
Then, after feeling his qi recover enough, he raised one of his able hands.
Small Cloud Rain gathered weakly above him.
A thin drizzle fell over his body, washing blood from his face, hair, sleeves, and torn robes. The water turned red as it ran down onto the floor. Mei Long's blood had been hot when it first covered him. Now it cooled in the air, thick and sticky, clinging in places.
Having blood on your face and all looked cool during fights and would be intimidating as heck, but outside of battle, it was just yucky.
His exhausted body had no strength to waste on unnecessary movement, while his mind, emptied by the battle, settled into an unusual calm. For those few moments, there was nothing to think about.
There was only his breathing.
Only himself.
Only the world around him.
Without realizing it, Ning slipped into the culmination of everything he had practiced with the Turtle Breathing Art. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing became almost imperceptible, and his presence gradually faded into the surrounding world.
Then a thought surfaced.
Isn't this... exactly the state Phantom Veil requires?
He didn't hesitate.
Ning immediately circulated the Phantom Veil Art according to the inheritance. Perhaps it was the perfect state of mind, or perhaps the perfected Turtle Breathing had already laid the foundation. Whatever the reason, the technique progressed with astonishing smoothness.
The panel flickered.
[Martial Arts: Phantom Veil (Starting)]
Ning let out a long breath before opening his eyes.
"...Would've been really useful against Mei Long."
With this, Ning could have used Hidden Ice Mist to really hide himself from Mei Long's senses, and shown him the true terror of the hidden-fog silent archer, and in the process not gotten absolutely clobbered.
But Ning understood that not everything would always go his way.
He pondered on and on, about nothing and everything, and just chilled on the ground.
Suddenly, a golden flicker appeared beside his head.
"Ji Ning!"
Ning nearly punched on instinct.
The tower spirit hovered in the air, palm-sized, translucent. "Wow! Calm down, it's just me, the tower spirit. I know you're tired after killing Mei Long and all, but don't be so jumpy. I even took my time to appear since you were cleaning yourself."
Hearing that, Ning paused. "What do you mean after I finished cleaning? How did you even know my fight was finished?"
The tower spirit froze for a fraction of a breath. "I was showing it."
"Showing it?" Ning had a bad feeling about this.
"Yes." The tower spirit fidgeted.
"To whom?" Ning really dreaded the answer to this.
The spirit looked briefly guilty, which was an impressive feat for something made of light and who knows what. "To the sect."
Ning closed his eyes and opened them, confirming he wasn't hallucinating. He took a deep breath and asked once again, hoping he'd just gotten a concussion. "You streamed my fight."
"Streamed?" The tower spirit asked, confused about the word.
"I mean you broadcasted it to everyone in the sect." Ning corrected himself.
The spirit hesitated half a beat too long. "...Yes. But don't worry, I didn't show the part where you suddenly took a bath or tried to learn a new technique, which, mind you, is quite mad given your condition."
Ning opened his eyes. "If I had known I was being shown to the entire sect," he said gravely, "I would have made a pose or something at the end. I just laid down after the fight; it must have looked so uncool."
Aura farming is eternal, especially after beating an insurmountable enemy. It was the truth.
"Huh?" The tower spirit stared at him. "That's what you care about, of all things? I thought you were worried about something else."
Then Ning snapped at hearing that.
"Of course, I'm just kidding. I'm worried about everything else." What did he mean, he was being shown across the sect? Why the hell hadn't the tower spirit even warned him? Why was he here just to suffer?
"A-ah-" The spirit leaned back. It was very surprising to see the calm Ning, who'd even been able to outmaneuver Mei Long, be so distraught all of a sudden.
Ning leaned his head back against the stone. "I just defeated Mei Long in front of the entire sect. A former Foundation Establishment criminal. You know how big of a deal that is?"
"I-I thought most young disciples liked fame." The tower spirit spoke weakly.
"Tall trees attract wind," Ning said, pointing weakly upward. "So, what you did really put me on the radar."
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It would be so lame for him to pass out after fighting Mei Long just from hearing this news.
Anyway, this was always going to happen. The timing was just much faster than expected. Ning tried to console himself.
From the beginning, Ning had never truly insisted on staying low-key. With his talents, to go further, he needed resources. And only with fame and a reputation as a genius could he get them. Heck, that was how he'd gathered up his pot of spirit stones in the first place.
If he hid everything forever, he'd stay safe from envy and die quietly of mediocrity instead, a mid-grade root disciple with no fame, no backing, and no visible reason for anyone to hand him the techniques and pills that might actually keep him alive.
So he'd shown enough. Step by step. Clear progress, visible effort, a reasonable explanation trailing behind every gain. That was the whole difference.
He'd never understood the transmigrators in the stories he used to read, the ones who insisted they were staying low-key while defeating geniuses, uncovering ancient inheritances, refining impossible pills, saving young misses, killing elders' sons, and breaking sect records, then acting shocked when everyone noticed them anyway without any preparation about how to explain what they did and how they could do so. That wasn't low-key at all.
Ning had planned his own growth to leave an actual trail behind it. Techniques purchased. Time spent training. Teachers involved. Matches fought. Breakthroughs earned after visible effort. Even his performance in the tower had been shocking, but not rootless; people could credit it to comprehension and talent.
No one would be suspicious of him possessing some heaven-defying inheritance or something. After all, he was not Xiao Fan, who could keep showing abnormal growth without any rhyme or reason to the name.
Ning had always planned to gradually reveal more about himself as he continued to grow stronger. That was the path he wanted and took, not truly low-key, nor being absolutely always in the limelight.
But this was too much at once. A Qi Condensation disciple killing Mei Long, in public, was a bit too fast for his plan of showing himself in the sect.
The tower spirit's expression softened. "I understand your concern. But there were reasons."
"They'd better be good." Ning just spoke blankly.
"They are. Without the broadcast, Lei Fu's faction could claim the tower malfunctioned and bury the truth. The sect needed to know Lei Shen was waking. If your achievement stayed hidden, someone else could steal or suppress the credit later. And visible heroism helps morale; right now the sect is under attack, and seeing a disciple bring down Mei Long matters to the people watching."
Ning said nothing.
"Also," the spirit added, "if you die later, it will be useful for people to already know you died impressively."
"Alright." As he had said time and time again, Ning had just accepted that shit was going to happen, and would adjust accordingly. "So why are you here?"
The tower spirit then spoke hurriedly, "Oh right, I forgot, amid everything, Xiao Fan has a plan."
The spirit flew forward and slapped a small seal against Ning's forehead before Ning had time to object, and a flood of images poured into his mind at once: it was all about how Xiao Fan was fighting against Lei Shen, his plan, and the true conspiracy.
Overall, he had meta-guessed parts of it, so he wasn't exactly surprised. He was, though, surprised by what Xiao Fan's plan actually was at the end.
Ning opened his eyes and said nothing for a moment.
"You also think it's stupid, right?" the spirit demanded, pointing at him. "The plan's obviously insane. You're not going to follow that plan, are you?"
Ning smiled faintly. "I would do it."
"You would what?" The tower spirit exclaimed aloud.
"I would do it." Ning's eyes shone a brilliant blue.
The tower spirit exclaimed. "You two are both insane."
"But I do have one concern," Ning suddenly said.
"Good. You're finally thinking sensibly. What's the concern?" the Tower Spirit asked.
"If I go through with this, you'll need to close the water mirrors outside." Ning glanced upward. "I'd rather not have the entire sect misunderstand what they're seeing."
The Tower Spirit sighed.
"That's what you're worried about? Don't be. What comes next can't be shown through the mirrors anyway." It shook its head helplessly. "If the two of you are really insane enough to follow through with this plan, then let's do it."
Ning nodded, and then slowly stood up despite his body crying with pain.
He was searching for an arrow. On the battlefield, most had been snapped in half; others were bent beyond repair.
After searching for a moment, Ning finally picked up an arrow whose shaft remained mostly intact. He checked the fletching, tested its balance with a light flick of his fingers, then gave a small nod.
"It'll do."
He wiped away the blood coating the shaft before taking out his bow.
Love.
The bow's once-pristine body was now marred by countless scratches, one limb slightly warped from the abuse it had suffered.
Ning reached for the string, only to wince.
The wrist that had blocked Mei Long's strike still throbbed relentlessly. Simply gripping the bow sent a sharp ache shooting up his forearm.
"Right..."
He tore a strip from the least-damaged part of his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around the swollen joint. The pressure dulled the pain just enough that he could still move it, though every flex of his fingers reminded him the injury was far from healed.
Satisfied, he brushed a thumb along Love's battered frame.
"One last shot."
The Tower Spirit floated beside him. "You get one chance."
"I know."
Ning slowly nocked the arrow.
His eyes gradually turned a brilliant blue as Phantom Veil silently circulated. Every trace of leaking qi vanished, his presence fading into the surroundings with each passing breath.
"I don't have much spiritual energy left," he said, steadying his breathing. "I'm pouring everything into this one arrow. Can you help?"
"I can." The Tower Spirit flew forward. "It's fortunate the Spiritual Energy Seal already faded from your palm. Otherwise, your body wouldn't be able to hold another."
A different seal settled into Ning's palm. Warmth spread through his meridians.
Ning blinked. "I didn't even notice the old seal disappearing."
"That's normal." The Tower Spirit shrugged. "Temporary seals gradually fade away. The human body simply isn't meant to bear seals for long." It glanced toward the black doorway. "Only the Original Seal is different. Without it, a person can only carry one seal at a time, and even that seal will eventually dissipate."
"The Original Seal." Ning's eyes narrowed. "The one Xiao Fan has?"
The spirit nodded.
"Exactly. That's why I was able to keep placing seal after seal on him before his fight with Lei Shen. The Original Seal stabilizes them. Without it, every seal I gave him would have faded quickly, and trying to stack them would've torn his body apart."
Ning finally understood how Xiao Fan was able to survive for so long.
Just like Ning was doping on pills, Xiao Fan was getting buffed to the very heavens by myriad seals.
Wait...
Ning's expression changed.
"What about the Heavenly Origin Orbs?" he asked suddenly, a bad feeling creeping into his chest.
The Tower Spirit's expression immediately soured. "Those?" It sighed heavily. "Without the Original Seal, the Heavenly Origin Tower can no longer condense Heavenly Origin Orbs."
Ning's eyelid twitched.
The spirit continued, "Fortunately, the other trials aren't affected too badly. Their seals can eventually be replaced with formations with little loss in function. The Origin Trial is the only exception. Condensing a Heavenly Origin Orb requires the Original Seal. There's no substitute for it." The Tower Spirit let out another weary sigh. "Looks like I'll have to rethink part of the tower's future."
"I suddenly got a lot more motivation for what I'm about to do next," Ning said. Stupid protagonists, and their rule of always taking the best thing and making it unusable for everyone else.
He'd had so many plans for the origin orb, if he could ever have acquired one.
Amid this rage, Ning began to charge the arrow.
Lightning Cry Arrow gathered first. Then came a thread of Crimson Flame Control, a line of crimson fire wrapping around the lightning without fighting it, circling instead like a burning serpent along the outer edge. Ning's control was rough, since this was the first time he'd tried to use the two techniques layered together.
Then came ice qi from Jade Skin and Icy Meridians, pale blue cold wrapping around the flame. Fire and ice should have clashed, and did; the arrow trembling violently enough that Ning nearly coughed up blood again.
The tower spirit flew forward, tiny hands forming seals faster than sight could follow, golden runes wrapping around the arrow, separating the layers further apart from each other. "Don't merge them. You can use that spiral arrow of yours to circle them around each other."
Ning's eyes sharpened, and the arrow began to turn: lightning at the center, crimson flame circling it, ice qi circling that, all three forces twisting together without blending, rotating along a single deadly path. The lightning pierced. The flame burned. The ice suppressed. The spiral held it all steady.
Finally, Ning drew from the Infinite Circle. The thin purple-gold thread in his dantian trembled, and with that, the last qi he had accumulated was gone too.
Purple-gold light sank into the arrow's core.
Ning exhaled slowly.
Then, carrying the fully charged arrow, he stepped through the black doorway.
Phantom Veil circulated silently.
His presence faded until it was scarcely distinguishable from the surrounding air, his aura so thoroughly concealed that even the flow of qi around him remained undisturbed. Keeping to the deepest shadows of the chamber, he moved without a sound, the drawn bow never wavering.
At the center of the chamber, Xiao Fan and Lei Shen remained locked in fierce combat.
As Lei Shen's fist came crashing down once more, the Tower Spirit's voice quietly echoed within Xiao Fan's mind.
He's here. Xiao Fan's eyes shifted for the briefest instant.
Hidden within the deepest shadows, he could barely make out the faint silhouette of a bow drawn to its absolute limit.
That was enough.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his bloodstained lips.
The subtle exchange didn't escape Lei Shen.
His eyes narrowed, and for the first time since the battle began, he spared a glance toward the darkness behind Xiao Fan.
"What are you smiling at?"
Xiao Fan only grinned wider. "Nothing."
Lei Shen's instincts screamed that something was wrong, and he hesitated for a moment.
It was all Xiao Fan needed.
Instead of meeting the incoming blow with Heaven-Shattering Fist as he had throughout the battle, he suddenly changed.
Lei Shen's lightning-wreathed fist shot toward his chest, but Xiao Fan twisted away with a flexibility no ordinary body cultivator should have possessed. His shoulders folded at an impossible angle, his spine bent like a serpent, and one arm slipped beneath Lei Shen's elbow while the other hooked across his shoulder.
"What?" Lei Shen's expression changed as Xiao Fan pulled him in close and held on.
He'd learned this against the puppet in the fifth trial: that his body didn't need to attack only with fists. His beast-derived flexibility, used properly, could turn his entire frame into a binding technique. His legs locked around Lei Shen's waist, one arm trapped his shoulder, the other forced his chest open against his own spine.
Lei Shen's lightning erupted around them both. Xiao Fan screamed through clenched teeth and did not let go.
"You mad little-"
"Now!" Xiao Fan roared. "Do it, Ning!"
Ning released the arrow.
The arrow crossed the chamber in silence, thunder arriving only after it, the spiral tearing through the air with purple lightning at its heart, crimson flame circling it, pale ice sealing the outer edge, and a single purple-gold thread hidden within the turning. It passed between hanging chains, cut straight through drifting smoke, and struck the two joined figures at the center of the chamber.
[One Shot, One Kill: Lightning Cry Arrow + Crimson Flame Control + Ice + Infinite Circle + Spiral Arrow]
It hit Xiao Fan first.
Then Lei Shen.
Straight through the heart line, and then both of them collapsed, blood painting the ground red.
They were dead.
...
A/N: Thanks for reading~
Xiao Fan ga shinda, or something like that. Anyway, ignoring the dead protagonist and main enemy, after his performance, despite not wanting it, Ning would absolutely get a title.