Chapter 13

That night, Mu Xue began her first cultivation session since entering the sect.
The only homework Su Xingtin assigned in class was for everyone to learn “watching the mind, silencing thoughts.” Simply put: learn to enter stillness.
This is a fundamental lesson taught in nearly every cultivation sect.
It sounds easy, but it’s actually much harder than it seems.
After all, as soon as a person is born, their mind is a storm of thoughts, some call it the mind, others call it delusion. Achieving clarity and banishing these distracting notions is no easy feat, especially for a bunch of jumpy, energetic kids.
After just a short time trying, Xia Tong threw herself down on the sleeping mats and groaned, “What do I do? I can’t do what Teacher said at all, I can’t stop my brain from thinking about stuff.”
“What were you thinking about?” Mu Xue, just back from washing up with a basin in her hands, asked.
“I accidentally started thinking about the roast quail at breakfast, it was so good! I wonder if we’ll have it again tomorrow.” Xia Tong buried her face in her hands. “I know I’m not supposed to think, but the harder I try not to, the more I can’t help it! Now all I can see are oily, sizzling quails flying around my brain. Ugh!”
Mu Xue laughed and tried to comfort her. “Don’t stress, just take it slow.”
“But look, Yuanzi seems to have already done it!”
Yuanzi was another girl in the room, plump and pale with a cherubic face, hence the nickname “Yuanzi.”
Right now, round little Yuanzi was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fingers forming a dharma seal, eyes closed in deep concentration. Her face was so calm, it was as if the chaos around her didn’t exist, she had apparently achieved meditation.
“Wow, Yuanzi’s amazing!”
“She really nailed it!”
The girls in the room gasped in admiration, sneaking glances.
The sight: a chubby-cheeked girl, breathing soft and even, chest gently rising and falling, until, suddenly, she started to snore. She’d actually fallen asleep.
“Hahaha!”
They all burst out laughing and shook the dazed Yuanzi awake.
The art of stillness isn’t about purposely forcing yourself not to think, but it’s also not about blanking your mind completely. Drift too far, and you end up like Yuanzi, napping, not cultivating.
Mu Xue settled cross-legged onto her mat, hands relaxed and lightly folded, thumbs touching, eyelashes lowered, she let her mind unwind.
She started silently reciting the mantra Su Xingtin had taught:
“To reach the profound, first be mindful, then release.”
Soon, she slipped into a mysterious state: eyes open, aware that people moved around her, yet she seemed not to see; voices rose and fell, yet she heard nothing at all.
Her mind was clear and tranquil, like a tiny boat on a vast sea. When thoughts rippled, the boat rocked; when thoughts faded, the boat stilled. The tides could toss as they pleased, her vessel drifted at ease.
As she held that state, her breathing deepened, becoming slow and rhythmic. Bit by bit, she could sense the world’s energy converging into her body.
Mu Xue opened her eyes. She needed to stop before she went any further.
Su Xingtin had only taught them how to calm their minds; the actual cultivation techniques were yet to come.
For Mu Xue, achieving stillness was never the challenge, it was avoiding slipping too deep, too fast. Years of habitual practice had carved muscle memory into her bones: the moment she let go, her body would automatically start drawing in spiritual energy.
Guiyuan Sect’s technique was about refining essence into qi in meditation, transforming acquired energy into vital qi to strengthen the body and the spirit.
This was the very opposite of demonic cultivation methods. Take her own path, for example: she used her focus in artifact refinement to absorb spiritual energy and channel it into her creations. Over time, she’d even learned to draw pure energy straight into herself, refining it automatically. In a way, her method and Guiyuan Sect’s path could not have been more different.
Besides Mu Xue, a few other kids seemed to be getting the hang of things, sitting upright and finding their way into meditation.
They were, after all, handpicked from thousands by Xiumu Butterflies, most of them were exceptionally gifted.
Of course, there were those who just couldn’t sit still and were already up and wandering around. Some had given up entirely and simply sprawled out, sound asleep.
For this basic stillness exercise, Su Xingtin gave them all the time they needed, reminding them there was no rush.
So, for these children, there was no real urgency or pressure at all.
Laughter and playful shouts from the courtyard drifted in through the paper windows.
Xia Tong was pulling a face, desperately trying to un-cramp her foot. “Ow, ugh, my leg’s asleep!” Yuanzi leaned sideways, playing cat’s cradle with a little girl from next door.
Faces full of silly grins, carefree and pure, truly innocent.
Mu Xue’s mind drifted to memories of faces about their age, but those faces had been etched with tension, anxiety, and suspicion. Eyes blazing with savagery. Wolf pups, starving, desperate to survive.
How many children had been bought along with her that time? Thirty? Maybe forty?
The first lesson her Master taught was merciless: dumping spiritual energy straight into all the children, forcing open their meridians. Not every kid could handle it. On that first day alone, several bodies literally burst apart and died on the spot.
Little Mu Xue had stood trembling amongst a field of corpses.
She’d never dared look back at the fallen. All she could do was throw herself desperately into practice.
Every child gave their all, fighting with everything they had, just to escape the shadow of death hanging over them at all times.
In that wild, relentless grind, Mu Xue finally broke through with her own methods and became an artifact refiner.
When she finally looked back, there were just a handful left. Of those forty kids, her age, all struggling to claw their way free, most had vanished.
At night, Mu Xue’s dreams were overrun with nightmares.
She always saw those pale-faced children crowding around her, as if they were still trapped together in that hellish sect, endlessly reliving the same darkness with no escape.
Mu Xue ran for her life through the darkness. Shadows fell all around her, one after another, but she didn’t dare stop, or spare a hand to help anyone up.
Honglian grabbed her and ran alongside, “Don’t look back. Keep moving. All that matters is making it out alive, just worry about yourself.”
“Under the moon, clarity rises; its light on the river, calm and keen. Cast off all doubts, guard your spirit, let stray fires die down, let no illusion invade. With steady mind, seek the Dao, let your heart be bright and clear.”
A clear, crystalline voice echoed by Mu Xue’s ear, like the gentle chime of a bell, ringing through her chest and scattering all the nightmares binding her heart.
Mu Xue woke.
Someone had used a secret voice transmission, drawing her out, saving her from falling into inner demons.
She sat up and nudged the window open; moonlight poured in through the gap, flooding the room with silver.
Across the courtyard, balanced casually on the eaves, sat a young fellow disciple, a senior brother.
She recognized him: the night she’d first arrived at the Huayu Hall, she’d been meditating, her spirit wandering, only to be startled back at the sight of this guy on guard by the courtyard.
This time, he just shot her an impatient look, motioning for her to go back to bed.
So it was a sect arrangement, senior brothers with deep cultivation keeping vigil, protecting new disciples just starting out (and prone to trouble).
Mu Xue lay back down, arm tucked under her head, and closed her eyes.
Her heart, slowly, gently, settled.
Clarity like moonlight on water, dissolving chaos, sheltering the heart and mind.
Dissolving chaos, sheltering the heart and mind.
So this is what a real sect feels like.
Meanwhile, Fu Yun, camped on the roof for days, was feeling rather fed up.
Whenever new disciples joined, the sect would assign top students to take turns on night watch at the Huayu Hall.
First night had been his turn. That night, he was sure he’d sensed a strange and powerful spiritual presence flash by, just for a second.
He couldn’t let it go, so he insisted on volunteering for several nights in a row.
Of course, he found no mysterious enemies with evil intentions; what he did get was nightly chaos, kids waking up crying, peeing the bed, or sobbing for their parents and driving him up the wall.
And now, another one: a panicked little bun, too eager in her practice and trapped in a nightmare. He’d had no choice but to break out the secret voice transmission technique to snap her out of it. At least she didn’t make him come in and comfort her in person.
Recalling that pale, round face poking out from the window (dark circles under her eyes already!), Fu Yun sighed. He decided he was swapping shifts, let someone else wrangle the nursery tomorrow night.
Dawn broke with wisps of lingering mist; the sun poised on the horizon.
The Jiulian Mountains were washed in soft, interweaving shades of green.
Halfway up the slope, the distant toll of Chongxu Temple’s bell drifted over the morning air.
The mist-shrouded peaks revealed glimpses of palaces and pavilions, their golden roofs sparkling, it all looked like something out of a dream, tempting the heart with the promise of magic.
On a courtyard paved with blue stone, Ye Hangzhou was leading a pack of scrappy junior disciples through their morning drills.
They were practicing the Nine Palaces Grappling Form, eighty-one moves in total, each strike sharp and fierce, the routine flowing together nonstop. By the end, their qi hummed through their bodies and sweat shone on their faces. Pure exhilaration.
Compared to sitting in meditation, this kind of martial practice won the hearts of all the restless little kids.
After all, not every child can sit still and drop into deep meditation with ease.
Some kids just aren’t built for it, forcing them to sit still is torture (and pointless). But that doesn’t mean they’re not cut out for cultivation.
That was why Su Xingtin had arranged for martial-arts-gifted Ye Hangzhou to teach the lively ones a proper fist form.
Tailored training, guiding them into calm through movement, so everyone could reach the same mastery by different paths.
Ye Hangzhou’s only regret: of all the kids who signed up for classes, every single one was a boy, not a single girl. He knew girls had more delicate constitutions, so they should be learning martial arts young, to strengthen themselves.
Maybe it was his fault for picking a form with such an awful name. With a sigh, Ye Hangzhou wondered if calling it something like Orchid Leaf Twist or Catching Stars, Chasing Moon Fist would have convinced the junior sisters to show up.
“Senior Brother Ye! What are you up to out here?” piped a bright, familiar voice.
He turned, peeking through the stone balustrade was Mu Xue’s eager little face.
“Ah, Xiao Xue! I’m teaching everyone a fist form today.” Ye Hangzhou strode over, buddying up to the new favorite little disciple of Master himself.
“Why do we bother learning mortal martial arts, anyway? Is it for that ‘find calm through movement’ thing the elders always talk about?” Mu Xue asked, head tilted.
“Look at you, picking up all the fancy lingo! Not bad at all.”
Mu Xue grinned, “But honestly, isn’t it way easier to just sit quietly and meditate? Why go the long way round?”
Ye Hangzhou ruffled her double bun hair and launched into a mini-lecture for his little junior sister,
“Righteous cultivators like us are nothing like Buddhist or demonic cultivators. They seek to shed the flesh, set their soul free, transcend everything. Us? We cultivate body and spirit both. We treasure fortune, nurture our health, treat the body as our very own furnace.”
“Practicing martial arts from childhood not only channels calm through movement, but also tempers your body-furnace, and that’s a big help for your future cultivation. Just saying, everyone on Xiaoyao Peak has strong martial skills, not even the muscle-heads over at Tiezhu Peak can beat me.”
He crouched down in front of Mu Xue, hope shining in his eyes. “Hey, junior sister, want to practice with me?”
She seemed so quiet and gentle, he doubted she’d want anything to do with noisy combat.
To his surprise, Mu Xue thought for a moment, then nodded.
Breathwork, reverse hearing, internal regulation, those were as natural to Mu Xue as eating or drinking. But this ‘stilling the mind, watching thoughts drift by’ stumped her. She had to deliberately suppress old habits and hard-won instincts, and that only made her mind rebel with all sorts of restless, demonic thoughts.
She’d racked her brains for a solution, and at last, watching Ye Hangzhou demonstrate his fist routine, inspiration struck.
Find stillness within motion, enter tranquility through movement.
From that day on, at the end of the group practicing in the square, there appeared a tiny, petite figure. She struggled to swing her little arms and legs, earnestly copying every move, determined to learn.