Chapter 18

On Huayu Peak, little Mu Xue was meditating quietly in her room.
Half a month ago she’d been seriously ill. Yet since recovering, every cultivation session left her blood and qi running brighter, her meridians clearer. The sickness had swept away the sluggishness in her body, scouring out even the hidden filth in her organs. Instead of growing weak, she only felt lighter, looser, as if some heaviness had lifted from within her.
But due to that delay, most of the disciples who’d entered with her had already breezed past the early bottlenecks, achieving stillness and focus with ease. Some geniuses among them had even pushed past the Qi Refining stage altogether.
After lessons, she’d watch a handful of little disciples walking together, trading cultivation tips as they went.
“The teacher said not to force it, when the time comes, you’ll understand on your own. Last night, it just clicked for me out of nowhere.”
“Same here! At first I was just following the breathing instruction, then, bam, it just happened one day. There’s no way to describe it; now I get why the teacher said it’s beyond words.”
Countless cultivation methods were widely spread across the human realm, but what Mu Xue had practiced before, sitting meditation, breathing, clearing the mind, amounted to little more than the exercises ordinary folks did to stay healthy.
Even commoners could master it with effort. The bright ones took a dozen days; the clumsy, maybe a year or two. Almost everyone managed the Qi Refining basics eventually. This introductory phase of cultivating, drawing qi into the body, was known as the “Qi Refining Stage.”
Disciples admitted to Huayu Hall had been handpicked from thousands by the sect, using the Xiumu Butterfly’s guidance. Every one of them was exceptional.
And because they were all young, without worries or baggage, it was even easier for them to clear their minds and focus their breath, finding stillness more swiftly than adults. Some were already sensing the first hints of the Foundation Establishment barrier.
In her past life, Mu Xue had completed qi induction on day one and reached Foundation Establishment’s edge within a week. She’d truly been a prodigy.
But this time, over two months after joining, she was still stuck at the Qi Refining stage, barely considered an initiate at all. Watching even the tiniest kids whiz past her made her secretly, quietly ask around for advice.
On the training square one morning, Ye Hangzhou grinned. “No rush, no rush! Back in my batch, I was the slowest of all. Now none of them can beat me.”
At the cafeteria, Ding Lanlan shoved a drumstick onto Mu Xue’s plate while munching on her own. “My family has a few basic mind-calming methods, but since you’ve just recovered, focus on getting strong first. Later, I’ll teach you.”
After class, Su Xingtin hugged his Mirage Terrace lantern, laughing as he reached out to tweak the two little hair tufts atop Mu Xue’s head. “You’ve got the best potential of us all, trust me, you’re fine. Your only problem is you overthink everything. Right now, what matters is mental cultivation. Be patient; take it slow. When the time is right, progress will come naturally.”
With such “brilliant talent,” even the teachers insisted she was the best. How could she not laugh?
Mu Xue plopped down atop the mountain, resigned, watching lazy wisps of fog drift between the peaks, glancing at the rowdy kids laughing and sparring in the plaza.
Honestly, nothing felt urgent anymore. All the pressures and responsibilities that chased her in her last life were gone. There was no one she needed to take care of. Why not loosen up? Maybe she could let things go this time. Just take it easy, live for herself.
So, she followed Su Xingtin’s simple breathing method, practiced Nine Palaces Grappling Form in the mornings with Ye Hangzhou, and meditated at night. Each breath drew qi up her spine, piercing the remnants of chaos, flowing straight to her life core, everything in balance. Again and again, the cycle became steady, her body strengthening, energy growing, her mind and heart filling with calm and quiet health.
That day, Mu Xue sat practicing as usual. True qi flowed comfortably through her body, smooth and effortless. Then, at the very edge of stillness, something subtle and strange happened: it was as if a new pair of eyes had opened deep inside her.
Those eyes snapped open, both within her and impossibly far away, surveying from high above, seeing through all illusion, turning inward with perfect clarity.
Inside her, a vivid world: streams of colorful spiritual energy flowed along her meridians, neat and orderly.
In the silent darkness, a strange space appeared, at once vast and boundless as nothingness, yet also secretive and close, shut off from the world. Shape and color faded, all lines blurred, as if it were formless and void. It felt endless, yet somehow fit within the palm of a hand.
Mu Xue opened her eyes in delight.
The younger disciples might not realize it, but she knew exactly what this realm meant.
There were thousands upon thousands of cultivation techniques in the world, and each sect had its own name for this space, some called it the "Gate of Unity," or the "Void Treasury," or "Pure Lands"; others named it the "Spirit Chamber," "Spirit Chamber," "Ancestral Niche," or "Mystic Womb." Titles varied, but all pointed to the true root of any cultivator's practice.
No matter if you trained in Buddhist stillness, Daoist alchemy, Confucian constancy, or the innate nature of the Demonic Path, everything led back to this space.
Now that she’d joined Guiyuan Sect to study, all the future steps, refining, merging, balancing fire and cauldron, would happen here. To nurture her golden core or even reach the nascent soul, everything depended on this realm.
For every cultivator, only by opening the "inner sight" and finding this space could you lay your foundation. Only then could you truly call yourself a member of the mystic arts, the moment most knew as entering "Foundation Establishment."
Mu Xue spent several days keeping her mind anchored in this state, and during morning practice, she couldn’t wait to share the news with Senior Brother Ye Hangzhou.
"Nice! You’ve opened the Spirit Chamber and found your ancestral gate. Told you, there was no reason to rush." Ye Hangzhou grinned, then glanced at her. "Aside from that spell of illness you had last time, you haven't felt anything else weird lately, right?"
"Actually... there is one strange thing." Mu Xue remembered the odd incident during her last meditation. "The other day, while I was in inner contemplation, I heard this bell, almost like a monastery chime, soft and distant. I couldn’t tell where it came from, somehow both far away and right next to my ear, so clear I can still hear it now. I asked the other senior sisters, but none of them heard a thing. Any idea why?"
"A bell? Why would there be a bell?" Ye Hangzhou blinked, just as puzzled. "Could it be you accidentally developed a Buddhist ear-passing technique?"
He looked a bit vexed. "Anyway, it’s bad timing, apparently some big secret realm got uncovered lately, and every major sect is in an uproar. Both Master and the sect leader are away investigating. Just keep an eye out. If it doesn’t get any worse, wait until Master’s back and I’ll help dig into it for you."
Mu Xue nodded. The sound was mysterious, but listening to it filled her with a profound calm, not the least hint of demonic mischief. She decided it wasn’t worth stressing over.
That night, Mu Xue lay on her bunk, hands pillowing her head, eyes wandering to where snowglow sifted through her window lattice. She drifted between dreams, half-awake and thinking:
"At last, I’m back on the cultivation path. If I do reach the realm of the Golden Core one day, maybe I’ll really get to visit the Demon Spirit Realm. Though... I bet it’s changed beyond all recognition by now."
She floated in and out of sleep, when suddenly, a bell rang out, impossibly clear, right next to her ear.
Mu Xue’s mind wavered, and before she knew it, she was standing at the foot of her own bed.
She looked around in bewilderment, the six children in the dorm still fast asleep, with Yuanzi and Xia Tong snoring happily, and there she was too: lying there, hands under her head, eyes shut beside Xia Tong.
So the one standing was not her physical body, it was her primordial spirit, drawn out by a dream.
On her very first day at Huayu Hall, she’d experienced something like this, her spirit drifting in sleep from a flood of mountain energy. Back then, her spiritual palace hadn't opened. She didn’t even realize she was dreaming, wandered out dazed and nearly startled the poor senior brother on night watch right off the roof.
But now, she’d taken her first real step. Her mind was clear. She knew with perfect clarity: this was her spirit, leaving her sleeping body behind.
It must be the sound of that bell!
The bell chimed again, high and pure, like a secret resonance from time immemorial. It sounded almost like a distant voice from home, calling her back, note after note, calling her name, urging her forward.
Mu Xue hesitated, trying to resist, but her spirit was already floating up, weightless, drifting out the frost-edged window.
That night in the snowy dark, the disciple on night watch was a senior sister she didn’t recognize. She lounged on the roof’s ridge beneath a wide-brimmed hat, idly munching from a bag of dried broad beans.
Mu Xue drifted past, tried to cry out, but no sound came.
The senior sister could not see her, kept crunching beans, oblivious as Mu Xue’s soul floated through, inexorably tugged by that bell into the unknown.
Higher and higher she rose. From above, the nine peaks unrolled like the petals of a massive lotus array, while a river to the south traced a shining chain around the lotus in blossom.
Snowflakes scattered through the air, a world of drifting silence; above her, the clouds swirled thick and gray and endless.
Mu Xue drifted into those dreamlike clouds, losing all sense of direction or time.
When clarity finally returned, she found herself standing in a courtyard filled with falling snow.
The place was achingly familiar, yet oddly changed.
This was home, the place she’d spent so many years. In her memory, it hadn’t been that long since it was her little nest, safe and warm.
But now, like a century had been stolen in a single night. The garden, lively and green just yesterday, was aged and shrunken. The lush trees twisted now with age, bark thick and limbs heavy with decay. Even the old bricks, once polished smooth, were cracked and worn, the patina of centuries upon them.
On the faded threshold of the house sat a young man, long legs stretched over the stone steps, head bowed, winding a bandage slowly around an injured arm. He seemed not to see the soul in the snow beside him.
It was Xiao Shan.
He’d really grown, towering, a man now.
Mu Xue stepped close and bent down, studying him.
Xiao Shan didn’t move. A thick cloak and dark, tousled bangs shadowed his face. Snowlight picked out the bridge of his nose, his skin pale above the dark folds, the only thing clearly visible a sharp, pale jaw and lips pressed in a tight, silent line.
"How did you end up so skinny? When Master left, you were the cutest, chubbiest thing."
Mu Xue let out a soft sigh, her gaze dropping to the bloodstained arm wrapped in white bandages before her.
The fingers, long, strong, sharply defined, were nothing like the slender hands she remembered from his youth.
“You’re hurt again. Please, be careful. Now that Master’s gone, you need to take even better care of yourself.”
Mu Xue mumbled to herself, feeling a raw sting at the corners of her eyes.
Her eyes burned, and something tight lodged in her chest.
What is this ache overflowing inside me? Mu Xue pressed her hand to where her heart would be, surprised by an emotion she could barely recognize.
From true childhood till now, after two lifetimes, she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to cry.
Trying to steady herself, Mu Xue craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, straightened, and walked into the room.
Inside, everything was just as she’d left it: rows of looming bookshelves and cluttered cabinets of jars, a narrow bed and hug pillow, a complicated transformation array, the roaring forge, and the floating cot suspended from the ceiling.
Countless strange tools lined her familiar workbench, and the half-finished artifact she’d left behind sat in the exact same spot, untouched, as if time had frozen the moment she vanished.
Mu Xue couldn’t help but sit at that desk. Though she couldn’t physically touch anything in her current form, she reached out, a ghostly left hand hovering over her trusty pointed tweezers, her right hand brushing the shapes of pliers she’d used a thousand times before.
The unfinished item, a necklace-shaped storage pouch. She’d meant to finish it for her disciple, Xiao Shan, who deserved something truly good.
Now, it seemed, she’d never have the chance to see it complete.
Suddenly, the sharp creak of a door hinge broke the silence.
Mu Xue turned her head.
A tall figure stood at the threshold, backlit by daylight. One arm gripped the door tight, the shape veiled in darkness, only his eyes flickered, bright embers in the gloom.
Can he see me?
As the thought flashed through Mu Xue’s mind, she was slammed by a wave of vertigo.
The next instant, she bolted upright in bed, with Xia Tong beside her, rubbing her eyes and shaking Mu Xue’s shoulder.
“Xiao Xue, what’s gotten into you? Even the rooster’s crowed three times. Not getting up to train?” Xia Tong grumbled, pulling on her padded jacket as she perched on the edge of the shared bunk.
Yuanzi yawned, eyes half-shut, fumbling for her shoes at the bedside.
The rest of the girls were already up and washing.
“It’s snowing again, always more snow up here in the mountains. So cold today,” Xia Tong sniffled, glancing out the window.
Mu Xue, still lost in that other world, dumbly followed her gaze.
Dawn’s early light crept in, and snowflakes drifted in the courtyard.
Somewhere far, far away, another courtyard was blanketed in heavy snow.
She’d left in such a hurry. In the end, she didn’t even know if Xiao Shan had sensed her presence.