Chapter 10

Mu Xue climbed the stone steps, the trail winding up through the deep mountains. The altitude here was high, and whenever the wind blew, it sent waves of pine needles whispering all around her.
Between the pines below, you could catch a glimpse of a great river, wide and silent, snaking around the mountain’s foot.
Tonight was a full moon. The luminous disk hovered over the water, scattering a shimmering drizzle of silver light across the river’s surface.
Step by quiet step along this mountain path, her restless thoughts slowly untangled, settling into stillness.
Every few flights of stairs, she came upon a wide landing, each marked by a perfectly drawn array on the ground. Sometimes, the formation would flare with light and, out of thin air, a door would open. Children of all ages would file out, some robed in silks, some in rags, all wandering out into the world.
A few wept as they walked, tear-streaked faces sniffling their way up the slope. Others had fire in their eyes, heads held high, practically running up the mountain with sheer excitement.
At the top, the stone steps came to a halt before an imposing old Daoist temple. Its gate soared above, grand halls rearing skyward. Hung high overhead, a wide plaque bore three gold characters: “Chongxu Temple.”
Chongxu Temple was Guiyuan Sect’s stronghold in the mortal world. Many towns had their own Chongxu Temple, big or small. These temples handed out charity, performed rituals, and opened their doors to thousands who came to pray.
But as Ye Hangzhou had explained, if a family wished to visit a newly initiated child, they could bring a letter here, to the Chongxu Temple of Jiulian Mountain. This was the very place.
Tonight, the gates were flung wide, the main hall glowing with a hundred lanterns.
A woman in blue sat at the entrance, logging names and collecting paper butterflies from each child as they arrived. She handed out slim nameplates engraved with each child’s name, “spirit tokens,” she called them, then waved the wide-eyed carrots-in-human-form toward the plaza in front of the main hall to wait.
Centuries-old temple, pavilions like giants, lacquered with intricate paintings, grave and dignified.
The new disciples eyed everything with awe, unable to hide their trembling curiosity.
But Mu Xue’s attention was caught by the little token in her hand, her spirit jade. Her name, gilded bright on the front, was etched into the gold finish, while the back was veined with a lattice of tiny spirit sigils.
She rubbed her thumb gently along it, the intricate lines seemed alive, spiritual power pulsing through their delicate runes.
It wasn’t crafted from rare metal, but the workmanship was exquisite, absolute: an artifact so carefully made it would be almost impossible to copy or fake.
With so many excitable kids packed together, it was inevitable someone would drop theirs, only for the unassuming token to flutter up, drift through the air, and slip right back into its owner’s pocket. From the moment it was given, the spirit token would never leave you, unless you destroyed it yourself.
For even the most junior disciple to be issued one, clearly the Guiyuan Sect had some eminent artifact forgers in their ranks.
The mere thought made Mu Xue’s fingers itch. She couldn’t wait to see the sect’s artifact-crafting firsthand, and match her own skills against the best of the spiritual world.
A burly man strode in from outside, children slung over both arms, both sound asleep. He grinned at the woman at the gate. “Found these two passed out on the steps, cried themselves to sleep. Looks like the rest made it up alright.”
The woman nodded, checked her list, and sighed. “So much work for just one hundred and twenty-three kids.”
Mu Xue glanced over. The man was a mountain of muscle, dark-skinned, thick-browed, sharp-eyed, he looked exactly like a body cultivator from the Demon Spirit Realm, someone who found enlightenment through strength of body.
The woman by the door, on the other hand, was graceful and ethereal, her robes faintly perfumed with medicine, clearly a healer, someone who spent every day among herbs and elixirs.
So Guiyuan Sect had all kinds of cultivation arts, not just stuffy righteous techniques.
The female cultivator propped up the butterfly bell jar in one hand, then flipped out a delicate silk fan. With a flick, the fan spun wide and hovered at her feet, growing as it caught the wind.
Gathering her skirt, she stepped lightly onto the fan. “I’ll go report in,” she called back.
Her dress fluttered behind her as she soared into the sky on her fan, disappearing in seconds.
The burly man was busy closing the mountain gate, but turned to shout after her, “Senior sister, you’re so impatient! Wait up!”
He didn’t even bother with a flying tool, he just bolted toward the back mountain, bounding over roofs, leaping walls, vanishing in a flash like a startled wild goose.
As he called out, he was still by the main gate for the first syllable, but by the last, his voice already echoed down from halfway up the mountainside.
He and that soaring fan seemed neck and neck.
The children stood dumbstruck, jaws dangling, no one had ever seen anything like that.
Even the crybabies forgot to cry, and the cocky ones dropped their pride for a moment. Every child now had only one burning hope: to learn a spell like that, and soar through the skies for themselves.
Inside, three or four older female cultivators appeared, lifting palace lanterns to lead the crowd of children indoors.
Their group followed a winding path through grand halls and flower-filled cloisters, climbing the steps along the rear mountain, higher and higher until they reached the very summit.
At the edge of this path stood a weathered stone marker. Its ancient characters had been almost worn away, as though the monument had weathered ten thousand years of wind and rain.
As they crossed the threshold, the children around her were still chattering without a care. Only Mu Xue felt her heart skip, her hand pressed protectively to the token in her robes.
“Beyond this marker lies the true gate of Guiyuan Sect,” their guide explained. “No one not issued a spirit token can pass this point. If anyone tries to force their way in... well, let’s just say their story ends right here. Remember that, little brothers and sisters.”
On the summit itself stood a sprawling nine-courtyard compound. Over the door hung a plaque inscribed, “Huayu Hall.” This, then, was the traditional dorm for every year’s batch of new disciples.
Compared to the splendor of Chongxu Temple, this was humble, almost plain.
The red paint was flaking from the outer walls, green moss crept between the flagstones. It was quiet, aged, and deeply serene in the mountain air.
From the summit, you could see forever: to the south, wide fertile plains, a great silver river curling like a dragon through the land; to the north, chain after chain of mountains, nine snow-capped peaks lost in clouds, their true faces hidden from view.
Now and then, flashes of rainbow light pierced the misty fairyland curled above the cloud-capped peaks, blazing like sunrise, arching like rainbows, bold enough to rival the moonlight.
“Senior sister, what are those lights? Are all those places part of our sect? When can we go over there and see for ourselves?” One of the wide-eyed kids couldn’t help but point excitedly at a passing streak of color, pestering the woman leading their group.
“That’s the inner sect territory. Ordinary disciples like us don’t get to set foot there.”
The older female cultivator looked out over her little flock of trembling, eager juniors. Their excitement reminded her of her own first time making the climb up the mountain. With a sigh, she added,
“If even a dozen or two of you catch the masters’ attention and make it into the inner sect, you’ll be considered lucky. The rest… well, you’ll be like me, learning a few practical techniques, living a longer, healthier life, maybe a little stronger than your average townsfolk, but that’s about it.”
The fresh-faced newcomers weren’t about to let their hopes be dashed. One boy, dressed in brocade robes and wearing his pride like a crown, protested loudly, “But we were chosen from millions! The heavens themselves picked us! If we work hard, how could any immortal not notice us? My mother said I was born to become a real immortal!”
The cultivator only smiled, unfazed. “Well then, I wish you every blessing along your path, junior brother. May you soar into the heights and knock on the Immortal’s door in no time. Just hope you don’t end up like your senior sister here, shuffling around the Foundation Hall for decades.”
Inside the Foundation Hall, the newcomers each received bedding, a fresh set of robes, and basic toiletries. Boys and girls were separated, with each large dorm sleeping six disciples side by side.
It had been a day of non-stop hustle, thrills, nerves, ups, and downs, not to mention two sets of steep stairs. Many kids, barely more than toddlers, were barely holding themselves together. The moment their heads hit the pillow, curiosity was no match for exhaustion, they fell asleep in an instant.
The mountain air was thick with cold mist, but inside, it felt neither damp nor chilly. The moon shone through the lattice-paper windows, scattering a gentle silver glow across the floor.
Mu Xue lay in her spot, wrapped in a heavy, warm quilt, eyes tracing the path of moonlight spilling through the window use.
She could feel it, the spirit energy on this peak was noticeably stronger than anywhere before.
And this was only the Guiyuan Sect’s outer court. Clearly this whole mountain sat atop some mighty spiritual vein, and the place was wrapped in powerful wardings to trap and nurture the qi. No wonder cultivators flocked here, it was a natural paradise for anyone chasing Dao.
Ever since her rebirth, Mu Xue knew: the spirit energy in this world was thin and watered down, nothing compared to the abundant currents in the Demon Spirit Realm.
Maybe that was why things here were so different, no wild monsters clawing their way to power like in the Demon Spirit Realm. Ordinary mortals lived their lives in peace, towns and kingdoms thriving, the world buzzing with people instead of monsters.
Around Mu Xue, the kids were dozing off. Soft breaths mingled with the faintest whisper of spirit energy, so delicate, like the caress of some fragrant breeze on bare skin.
It felt slippery and elusive, but at the same time achingly familiar and comforting, soaking into every pore and chasing away the last of her fatigue.
She didn’t dare to draw the energy inside her body yet, so she simply let it ebb and flow with every breath. Her senses began drifting, following the current of spiritual energy almost unconsciously.
At first, she floated along the old stone floor, ancient as time itself. From there, she drifted under the paper window, gliding into a courtyard washed with moonlight.
Not a soul around, just the moon hanging high overhead.
Though Mu Xue’s body rested inside the room, her mind was out in that open space, scanning the night, when she noticed a figure seated atop the opposite rooftop.
That person sat in meditation, back to her, bathed head-to-toe in silver moonlight.
Someone was actually up there, gathering spirit energy, entering meditation?
Mu Xue didn’t want to alert anyone. She began to draw her senses back in, quietly and carefully.
But just as she started to retreat, the figure on the roof turned, cold eyes flicking downward from on high.
Her senses snapped back into her body, yanking Mu Xue wide awake in an instant.
Reincarnated and practically powerless, yes, but years of hard practice had forged her spiritual sense to steel. Here, where the spirit energy was thick, her mind wandered too easily, slipping out of her body to scout out the unfamiliar world.
Mu Xue stared into the darkness, replaying what she’d just seen. So the sect posted someone to keep watch over Foundation Hall… Was it to protect, or to keep these new disciples in check?
That patrolling cultivator seemed pretty strong. Still, I got away fast. They probably didn’t notice me…
“You… can’t sleep either?” came a small, timid voice nearby. The girl in the bed next to Mu Xue peeked out from under her quilt, just a tuft of dark hair sticking up.
“It’s so quiet here, I can’t sleep at all. I’m Xia Tong. What’s your name?” she whispered.
“Zhang… Zhang Er Ya,” Mu Xue replied, grudgingly mumbling her ‘official’ name. She finally relented: “But you can call me Xiao Xue. That’s my nickname.”
“Xiao Xue, I’m starving, when do you think they’ll feed us breakfast?” Xia Tong snuck her hand from under the blanket, palm carefully clutching a piece of light yellow rock sugar. “You want some? Good thing my mom packed it for me before I left.”
Mu Xue accepted it, murmuring, “Thanks.”
In reality, she quietly tucked that piece of candy up her sleeve, nowhere near her mouth.
Who in their right mind would eat food given by a rival at a time like this?
If only a dozen or twenty would make it through from this group of over a hundred, all these supposed ‘companions’ were really just competitors dressed as brothers and sisters.
The last time she’d joined a sect, Mu Xue had been an orphan, scrapping her way up from the gutter in Fuwang City.
Her master’s round of new recruits had all been street-raised wolf cubs, ruthless, hungry-eyed, and ready to fight tooth and nail just for a stale bun, let alone a chance to join the sect.
Back then, Mu Xue’s knack for artifact refining, and how hard she worked, only painted a target on her back. It wasn’t long before one of the senior sisters slipped poison into her food.
If a different kid hadn’t taken her share that meal, she’d have been reincarnated long ago.
She could still see it, the boy convulsing on the ground, foam on his lips and limbs twitching violently. That nightmare was forever etched in Mu Xue’s memory, a horror she could never outgrow.
She would never, in this lifetime or the next, eat anything offered by someone else unless she’d personally verified where it came from.
When Xia Tong saw Mu Xue accept her candy, a hush-hush camaraderie instantly sparked between them, like sharing a midnight prank together.
Chewing the sweet, Xia Tong edged closer, crunching noisily beside Mu Xue as they began whispering.
High on the tiled ridge of the courtyard roof, a man on night watch frowned deeply, eyes fixed intently on the courtyard below.
His spiritual sense swept across every inch of the Huayu Hall. In the courtyard, the new disciples were all sound asleep, not a thing out of place. And not a hint of anything shady in sight.
But just now, he’d unmistakably felt an unfamiliar gaze on his back,
That trace of spiritual sense was incredibly powerful and focused, a brush and it vanished, nowhere to be found.
This was the Huayu Hall, protected by the Mountain Guarding Grand Array. No one but inner sect disciples carrying their sect tokens could possibly sneak in here. Where could an outsider come from?
Or… could it have just been a mistake while meditating? A trick of the mind?
He swept his sense through the grounds again, nothing, except in one side room, where two very young junior sisters were quietly nibbling candy and giggling together under their blankets. Other than that, not a peep.
Meanwhile, on one of the great main peaks of the Guiyuan Sect: Xiaoyao Peak.
Su Xingtin, the Peak Lord, was lazily drinking alone by moonlight, toasting the night. His youngest disciple, Ye Hangzhou, soared up on his flying artifact to the grand hall, then dashed to stand by his side.
“Master, your disciple has returned!”
“Oh, it’s Hangzhou! Done with your errands? Perfect timing, come, have a drink with me.” He pulled the young disciple into a seat, didn’t bother with proper manners, and fished out an extra cup, filling it full of wine for his disciple.
Ye Hangzhou downed the drink in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and said, “All the other masters have gone to the sect leader’s place to see the results of the Gold-Seeking Dao. Why are you still here, Master?”
“Well, with a few of you bright faces in my ranks, that’s more than enough for show. Let your uncles fight over those promising seedlings, they have more energy for grooming them anyway.”
“No offense, Master, but honestly, you’re perfect everywhere except you’re way too laid back!” Ye Hangzhou launched straight into a familiar rant,
“Just look at Biyou Peak, look at Tiezhu Peak, talent everywhere, colors glowing, everyone fighting to get in. The Sect Leader’s own Qingjing Peak is so packed, there’s barely space to breathe, not enough cave dwellings to go around. And us? There’s only a handful of us brothers, echoes in the empty halls, kinda bleak, don’t you think?”
Su Xingtin swirled his wine, studying his disciple for a long moment. “Did you run into any peerless prodigies on this trip down the mountain? Someone with a ‘Gold-Born Soul’ or an ‘Entwined Dragon-Tiger’ aura? You’re making such a fuss, you must’ve seen something wild.”
Ye Hangzhou scratched his head. “Nothing escapes you, Master. Not exactly a peerless talent, just a six-year-old junior sister. I don’t know why, but when I saw her Inquiry vision, it had a gentle light to it, but for some reason, it also tugged at my heart. I just thought, it’s been ages since we’ve had a new disciple up here. Maybe having another junior sister around would liven things up, what do you think?”
On Qingjing Peak, where the Guiyuan Sect leader resided,
Inside a translucent glassy bell jar, hundreds of dazzling butterflies with jewel-like wings were fluttering and swirling up and down.
Around them stood a circle of cultivators, each one the picture of immortal grace, ethereal as clouds. These were the elders famed for their profound Dao and each hoping to take in a new disciple.
“This batch looks promising. See how many strong golden Dao scenes, how brilliant those radiances are? Quality seedlings for sure,” one elder said, stroking his beard with a nod.
“You can’t just judge by flashy light displays, the real test is in the heart. Remember that one prodigy, years back? Shot up in cultivation, but his mind couldn't keep up, and not long after, he took a dark turn. Ruined himself, even dragged several fellow disciples down with him. Brother, you’ve already forgotten?”
Another elder, a woman, smiled serenely. “My junior sister is right, no arguing that. We must call on the Guiyuan Mirror, just to be sure.”
With a sweep of her sleeve, a round table in the hall revealed a bronze mystical mirror, its surface like a deep, blue spring poured across stone.
A single butterfly fluttered from the bell jar, touched lightly onto the mirror, sending rings across the water-like surface. Instantly, a field of spring blossoms bloomed in its depths, a waving sea of petals, sweet grass shining, spring lush but tinged with quiet melancholy.
“Full of vitality, pure and unspoiled, very nice,” an immortal commented.
Another butterfly landed. Instantly, the mirrored spring showed clouds rolling, rain falling, nourishing all living things beneath heaven.
“Blessed with generous rain, nurturing the world. Excellent. This one’s mine, Xuandan Peak will take them.”
Then a Xiumu Butterfly flashed across, the mirror blazed with wild fire and rivers of molten lava, burning the land to a scorched wasteland.
“Ah, what a pity. It shines bright, such talent, but burns too fierce, lost in obsession, destined for trouble.”
Countless gold butterflies danced on by. The mirror’s scenes glowed bright or faded dim, showing all varieties of internal worlds.
The cultivators murmured their praise and regrets, one by one.
Finally, a less ostentatious, softly-glowing butterfly drifted above the mirror and tapped it gently.
Within the mirrored depths appeared a world of ice and snow. Moonlight washed across a garden swept with swirling white, and there, amidst the blizzard, a lone tree bloomed with radiant crystal flowers. The flowers blossomed more and more brightly, undaunted by the frozen storm, shining through wind and frost.
“Wait, is that…?”
“That’s the ‘Snowbloom in Winter’ vision!”
“That showed up? Really?”
“How could a six- or seven-year-old child already have that kind of inner world?”
The hall erupted with whispers.
Someone laughed warmly from outside, voice carrying: “At peace, alone, in the snowy courtyard, and everywhere the fabled blossoms elude the wandering eye. Remarkable! Ha! I’d say this year’s crop of disciples is anything but ordinary.”