Chapter 15

Ding Lanlan had been a cultivation prodigy since childhood, the precious jewel of her family, coddled her whole life. Never once had she been scolded like this; her eyes went red, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry.
“Answer me. Stay silent, and you’ll taste the ruler.” Kong Ji banged his ruler heavily on Ding Lanlan’s desk.
The smack made her jump. In her panic, her gaze flicked to Mu Xue. She seriously considered selling her out right then and there.
But seeing her little junior’s much smaller frame, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Gnashing her teeth, she silently held out her hand to Kong Ji, trembling all the while.
Kong Ji only got angrier at her refusal to talk.
He raised the ruler and brought it down with a vicious crack on her palm.
Ding Lanlan clamped her lips together, letting a few silent tears splash onto her desk.
“I was the one who told her.” A childish voice, laced with reluctance, spoke up.
Mu Xue slowly stood up.
Honestly, her senior had been so hopelessly clumsy, Mu Xue could barely watch.
If you want mercy, you need to be quick to plead, not stiffen up and make the punishment worse.
Mu Xue had forgotten Demonic Spirit Realm and Immortal Spirit Realm called some spirit beasts by different names. Now she had to step up for Ding Lanlan. Compared to a pampered princess, a few strikes of the ruler was no big deal for her anyway.
Once upon a time, she and Honglian would always cover for each other and find little ways to cheat. Back then, if their Master caught them, they’d get a real verbal lashing, and a beating to match.
The whip was snakeskin, barbed and ruthless. After a session with that thing, you’d be lucky to have half a life left.
Every time, she and Honglian would cling to their Master’s legs, sobbing and begging for mercy, pinky-swearing it’d never happen again.
Of course, next time, they’d still dare.
“You?” Kong Ji looked down at the tiny six-year-old dumpling standing before him, skepticism all over his face.
“A few days ago, I was in the library and happened to find a copy of ‘Comprehensive Study of Beasts.’ It says right here: There’s a fish called ‘Fuhao Fish,’ human face, fish body, eating it makes one insatiable. Its bones are blue, taste is pungent, nature is hot and dry, nourishes kidney water and boosts one’s yang, can be used in medicine.” Mu Xue rattled off, sincerely. The library really did have that book, though she’d barely even skimmed it.
Kong Ji’s brow furrowed. The Huayu Hall had a library open to disciples; among the tomes, a few stray volumes from the Demon Spirit Realm, like that ‘Comprehensive Study of Beasts’, gathered dust. In the peaceful Immortal Spirit Realm, demon beasts were rare, so such “heretical” books had long been shelved and forgotten, but who’d have imagined a little disciple would go browsing?
“You’re studying alchemy, not even finished with the Pharmacopoeia, so why waste time on demonic trash?”
Mu Xue scratched her head, abashed. “I just started learning alchemy from the master these past few days, and I got so excited that I wanted to see how those so-called ‘medical cultivators’ from the Demon Spirit Realm stack up against our own alchemists.”
Kong Ji: “And? Did you spot anything different?”
“I’m just a beginner, so I can’t say for sure. But, if you ask me, our Pharmacopoeia divides things into three main categories and eighteen subfields, everything organized and righteous, the Dao passed down pure and true. Their Demon Realm books, though, are a mess: random, disjointed, zero system at all. No contest, really.” She pressed her little palms together and bowed, all humility. “I won’t do it again, Master, please forgive me.”
She was laying it on thick, and it was exactly what Kong Ji wanted to hear.
Kong Ji’s stern face softened a little. He snorted, “You’ve mixed up what matters and what doesn’t.”
In the end, the punishment wasn’t too harsh. Each got a palm strike and was sent outside to stand as penance.
Ding Lanlan stood outside the classroom, tears clinging to her lashes as she blew on her red, swollen hand. Every so often she’d sneak a glance at Mu Xue, whose hand was just as pink.
Mu Xue was perfectly calm, didn’t say much, just stood there like it was nothing at all.
Ding Lanlan wanted to thank the little rascal, but she couldn’t quite swallow her pride.
In the end, she reached out and gently squeezed Mu Xue’s uninjured hand.
Inside the classroom, Kong Ji glanced out the window at the two tiny figures standing side by side. He folded his hands behind his back and nodded, approvingly.
So that’s the one who blooms like a flower in the snow?
Smart and sharp as ice. Maybe she really does deserve a spot in my Xuandan Peak, he thought, rather magnanimously.
The next class’s instructor happened to be Su Xingtin, Lord of Xiaoyao Peak.
When Su Xingtin strolled by, he saw the two little girls standing outside, hands red from discipline.
“What happened here?” He looked down at their palms, then gently summoned a touch of healing spell. Like dewdrops on a spring breeze, the girls’ minor wounds vanished in a blink.
Mu Xue found the overprotectiveness of these elders exasperating, but there was nothing for it, she put on her best guilty-little-girl act and bowed her head. “Sorry for troubling you, Master. My senior sister and I got a bit out of hand, so we deserved our punishment from Peak Lord Kong.”
Look at her, not even knee-high, yet already so sensible. Clearly, it was that old relic Kong Ji’s fault, being stubborn as always.
Su Xingtin was displeased. Did that stick-in-the-mud not realize this was his own Xiaoyao Peak’s future little disciple?
Everyone in Guiyuan Sect knew the one who seemed most carefree and ethereal, lord of Xiaoyao Peak, was actually the pettiest, most vindictive old hen alive, especially when it came to his own disciples.
If you were under Xiaoyao Peak, Su Xingtin would clutch you beneath his wing, nobody dared touch you lightly.
Kong Ji stepped out of the classroom, only to be intercepted by a beaming Su Xingtin.
“Brother Kong Ji, for the next period, I want to teach the kids a bit of body technique, need a sparring partner. Since you’re here, help me out, so the little ones get a clearer demonstration.”
Kong Ji glared at him. “Since when is teaching body technique your business? Isn’t that Tiezhu Peak’s thing?”
“Come on, who in Guiyuan Sect can beat me in body arts? If not me, then who?” Su Xingtin slung an arm around him and herded him inside. “What, locked away in the alchemy labs for so long you’re scared of even the basics now?”
“Nonsense, since when have I ever been afraid of you, Su Xingtin?”
So it was that the burly, broad-shouldered Kong Ji got tossed to the ground several times by the seemingly gentle, refined Peak Lord Su.
Kong Ji’s face was like thunder as he stomped away, fuming.
The students were hyped; they started rolling up sleeves and tightening sashes, full of anticipation.
“Sir, are we learning real body techniques this class?”
“Who told you that? If you want to become a martial master, that’s Tiezhu Peak’s affair,” Su Xingtin replied, smoothing the creases from his sleeve. “But, I hear many of you have already learned how to ‘enter stillness.’ So today, I’ll teach you the correct way to ‘breathe.’”
Breathing, who doesn’t breathe? From the moment you’re born, every person breathes all day, every day.
When the kids found out they weren’t learning some dazzling martial art, but boring old ‘breathing’, disappointment spread through the room.
Su Xingtin opened the Sea-Light Lantern. In the three-sided crystal’s glow, a model of a seated human figure appeared, cross-legged.
The figure was life-sized, with skin rendered half-transparent; organs and bones clearly visible inside. Blue light traced the flows of qi through the meridians.
“The Ancients said: the reason people can live long is because they can harness the pure qi of heaven and earth. But how do we actually take in this vital energy? The key lies in breathing itself.”
Su Xingtin pointed at different parts of the model, throat, heart, kidneys, the root of the nose, spine, identifying organs and major acupoints one by one.
“Normally, we breathe through the throat into the chest, and out again. The essence of heaven and earth goes in, but we immediately lose it on the exhale, and worse, we end up leaking out some of our own innate vitality, too. Keep losing it drop by drop, and soon your life is spent. So, learning to regulate the breath and nurture your root is the first step to alchemical cultivation, what people call ‘qi training.’”
Su Xingtin’s lectures had a way of making even the most daunting alchemy topics crystal clear, he could turn labyrinthine theory into something anyone could grasp.
Even the littlest kids seemed to pick it up easily and follow along with his cultivation techniques.
That night, Mu Xue settled into meditation, following the breathing method Su Xingtin had taught. First, she focused her mind’s eye between her brows, then guided her breath, sending vital energy up from the bridge of her nose. It flowed gently along her spine, then slowly down into her dantian.
After a few cycles, a subtle warmth began to bloom deep in her belly, a comforting current that threaded itself through her breathing, spreading softly, naturally, to every corner of her body.
In that state of calm, it was as if she glimpsed a gentle, luminous light, moonlight on still water. All her worries and stray thoughts faded in that moment; her spirit seemed to grow hands and feet, letting her sense every tiny change in her body, utterly at ease, impossibly comfortable.
The spiritual energy of heaven and earth wove together with the wisp of innate qi within her. Swirling, merging, it gradually pooled itself in a single point inside her.
She knew right away: that was her dantian.
This time around, there was no one forcefully channeling spiritual power into her to blast open her meridians. No one was pushing her to frantically gather energy and force herself strong in a day.
All she felt was a tranquil, soft contentment, a lazy, easy sense of peace.
It was as if nothing in heaven or earth needed rushing; everything could flow at its own sweet, leisurely pace.
Su Xingtin had set just one requirement: they had to reach a point where this method was as natural as breathing, a quiet, constant awareness. No striving, no strain, just always watching the breath, mind anchored at the dantian, thoughts empty, breath effortless.
So no matter if Mu Xue was sitting, lying down, walking, practicing forms, or just eating, she kept up the rhythm, always mindful, dantian-focused, working hard, every single day.
That day, she kept up her special breathing technique while practicing the Nine Palace Grappling Form out on the plaza.
She could feel stillness within motion, breath blending seamlessly with movement. Evil dampness and stiffness were chased out of her system by the swirling true qi; her organs flushed clean of every old trace of filth. She felt buoyant, gloriously light.
Sitting sprawled along the banister of the colonnade was a dark-skinned, thick-browed young man. This was the very same Tiezhu Peak disciple who’d welcomed new recruits at the mountain gate on her first day.
He sat with one knee up, stroking his chin. “Not bad! We’ve got ourselves a promising seedling, she’s already found stillness within movement and drawn qi into the body. Best of all, it’s a little junior sister. I say she belongs on our Tiezhu Peak!”
Ye Hangzhou, leaning against the railing nearby, smacked him with the back of his hand. “Yeah, keep dreaming! She’s already spoken for, Xiaoyao Peak has dibs.”
The young man scoffed. “Says who? Bet you anything that sweet girl wants nothing to do with your cold, desolate Xiaoyao Peak.”
“Oh please,” Ye Hangzhou shot back, suddenly frowning, “as if she’d trade us for a pack of muscle-heads on your Tiezhu Peak… But wait a sec. Something’s not right...”
Out on the plaza, Mu Xue’s cheeks had flushed bright red. She doubled over, panting, trying to straighten up for another round, but her legs went wobbly, her heart raced, a cold sweat broke out all over her skin.
The senior brother in charge of the martial arts rushed over and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Whoa, hang on! You’re burning up, are you sick?”
Mu Xue’s illness hit out of nowhere, knocking her flat, fever seeming to burn her up again and again. The sect gave her a tiny, quiet meditation room to rest and recover alone.
During that time, Su Xingtin came in person to check on her.
Mu Xue propped herself up, pale but dignified. “Forgive me, Master. I’m slow-witted, can’t believe I made you come all this way to see me.”
She really did feel down. Everything here was perfect, the resources, the patient teachers who broke everything into bite-sized pieces, even the other disciples had been helpful and never dragged her down.
And yet somehow, she’d managed to mess up her cultivation so badly she’d gotten herself sick, a legendary fail, clearly proof of just how terrible her aptitude must be. The thought made her miserable.
Su Xingtin pulled up a chair beside her bed, gently coaxing her to lie back and rest, speaking softly, “This isn’t your aptitude’s fault. You’re simply weathering your tribulation, that’s all.”
“Tri, tribulation? But I thought tribulations only showed up for cultivators at the Golden Core stage! I’m not even close!” Mu Xue stared at him, stunned.
In her last life, her talent had been extraordinary, her realm had soared with no obstacle, smooth as glass. Not until she reached peak Golden Core and tried for Nascent Soul did she ever face a tribulation, and the very first one, a bolt of heavenly lightning, killed her on the spot.
“Tribulations only at Golden Core? Where’d you get that idea?” Su Xingtin laughed, sweeping it away. “Every phase of cultivation comes with its own trials: heavenly tribulation, mortal tests, heart demons, false delusions, romance tribulations, desire tribulations, the list is endless. If you only face them all at Golden Core, each layer stacking up, nobody would survive. It’d be too much to bear.”
Mu Xue blinked, as if the secret to her past life’s death was finally clicking into place.
Su Xingtin went on, “Take this first step of purifying the heart, for example. It’s meant to force out old illness, break past stubborn fixations. It’s completely normal for new disciples to get sick at this stage, we call it the sickness tribulation. That’s why the sect has had your seniors taking shifts at your door, protecting you new students as you pass through this phase.”
Mu Xue hesitated, then asked, “So, um…what if, theoretically, someone just skipped the qi-induction step? Would that mean no sickness tribulation?”
“You’re not wrong, there are all kinds of expedient tricks to ‘skip’ tribulations.” Su Xingtin gave her a patient look. “Say, if I infused you directly with my own true qi, blasting open your meridians, the process would skip right past the normal induction, no tribulation. But if you went on like that at every step, shortcutting past every trial, imagine when the real heavenly tribulation hit, all those skipped hardships bundled together! That force would be overwhelming. Nobody could survive.”
So that’s how it is...
No one had ever explained this to her before. Everyone just wanted her to go faster, grow stronger, reach the top as soon as possible.
Mu Xue looked up at this patient teacher before her, eyes shimmering. She dipped her head, thick lashes sweeping down to hide the storm within.
Su Xingtin’s tone turned firm: “Cultivation is about defying fate. Along the path, there will always be hardship. As disciples of Guiyuan Sect, we cannot cower or avoid what’s ahead. Don’t shrink back or fear, just face it, and move forward.”
Mu Xue was silent for a long while. She let out a soft breath and murmured, “Thank you, Peak Leader. Your guidance means a lot to me.”
This time, there was no joking, no clever quips, just genuine, heartfelt gratitude toward the elder who had shown her the way.
Su Xingtin, seeing that his words had reached her, pulled out a small bottle of pills from his robe and set it on her bedside. “These are fever-relief pills I got from Xuandan Peak. One pill per dose, three times a day.”
Mu Xue answered with a quiet “Mm.”
Su Xingtin went on, “Focus on getting better. There’s no rush to resume cultivation, be patient and heal.”
Mu Xue again replied softly.
With that, Su Xingtin stood to leave.
Looking back at the tiny figure curled up pale and fragile under her blanket, so obedient and quiet, he couldn’t help feeling moved.
This child, alone, far from home, never crying or complaining even when she’s ill, only worried about missing her lessons. Far too mature for her years.
Yet, why did her cleansing sickness strike so fiercely, and at such a young age?
Normally, older new disciples, burdened by worldly troubles and stubborn ills, might be plagued by a brutal onset of the cleansing fever. Younger ones would sometimes breeze through with nothing more than a few sneezes.
Who knows what this little girl has already lived through...
With a sigh, Su Xingtin clasped his hands behind him and left.
After Mu Xue fell ill, Xia Tong, Ding Lanlan, and a few other close friends dropped by every day to visit.
Ding Lanlan even copied down the notes from class, bringing them to Mu Xue to help her catch up.
“Today, Master Lou from Qingjing Peak gave a lecture. He introduced the major sects of the Immortal Spirit Realm, and talked about the leading families in the Demon Spirit Realm,” Ding Lanlan explained, laying her neat transcription across Mu Xue’s knees as she settled beside her, elaborating on the finer points.
“There’s something really funny here, it’s about the Yan family in the Demon Spirit Realm,” Ding Lanlan, always the eager explainer, was practically bouncing with excitement. “Did you know? Over there, there aren’t really sects, just powerful families. So their bloodlines are a really big deal.”
Mu Xue: “Yeah? The Yan family?”
“Yep! The Yan family’s run entirely by women, all to keep their bloodline pure. Every woman gets to bring home multiple husbands, and the men just get dolled up to stay inside and manage household chores. The daughters are treated like queens, and the boys? They’re raised just to be married off as alliances. Can you believe it? Tell me that’s not hilarious!”
Mu Xue secretly thought: What’s so funny about that? The Yan family’s always been this way. The matriarch almost tried to force her precious son onto me as a husband, back in the day.
Demon Spirit Realm, inside Fuwang City.
Snow drifted down in the old courtyard, dusting the timeworn mansion bathed in faint, golden light.
Inside, a single lamp cast a bean-sized glow. Beneath that light, a man worked quietly, using delicate tools to assemble a complex magical artifact.
From the doorway came a click-clacking sound,
A little tin puppet, no bigger than a teacup, strode up on spindly legs, raising its arms high beside the man.
“What is it?” The man didn’t even look up, focused on his task.
“Master, the Yan family matriarch sent her calling card. She requests your urgent assistance and promises the soul artifact left by the Ancient God Dongyue as reward.”
The man immediately looked up, eyes locking onto the little puppet.