Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

At the Outer Gate of Lingyun Sect, Mount Jiwei.

A winding mountain path led straight to the mist-shrouded Heavenly Gate. Countless pilgrims seeking immortality at Lingyun Sect struggled along the path, climbing with all their might. Even when utterly exhausted, they gritted their teeth and persisted, for only those who reached the summit and passed the test at the Heavenly Gate could become outer disciples of Lingyun Sect.

Among the vast number of outer disciples, many would never become inner disciples throughout their lives, never truly stepping into the path of cultivation. Yet the status of an outer disciple, along with the modest monthly allotment of inferior spirit stones and basic cultivation manuals, was enough for them to be revered as Immortal Masters among the mundane folk.

Ning Yin’s envy-provoking distinction lay in the fact that, despite being merely an outer disciple, she had become a direct disciple of the Jade Micro Immortal Lord of the Twilight Cloud Peak. Moreover, she lacked humility, bearing herself arrogantly and domineeringly, making countless enemies.

Mo Dashan was one of those who came to the Heavenly Gate to seek apprenticeship and embark on the path of cultivation.

Unlike the richly dressed scions around him—some accompanied by spirit pets or exotic beasts—he came from a poor farming family, toiling day after day between the fields and their dilapidated straw hut. On the day his spiritual root was tested, his entire family’s belongings amounted to a tattered bundle, a few worn-out changes of clothes, some baked cakes, and a pair of cloth shoes saved for his future bride.

Those cloth shoes were now worn to tatters.

All who registered hoped to become outer disciples and enter the cultivation world, but Mo Dashan cared little for cultivation itself; simply entering the outer gate was enough for him.

An inferior spirit stone’s worth in silver could support his family of five for over three years. More importantly, upon discovering his awakened spiritual root, his parents began to look upon him differently. If he truly became an outer disciple, his parents would no longer have to endure such hardship, and his younger siblings could find better prospects.

Fueled by this hope, Mo Dashan endured countless days and nights, finally reaching the summit with bleeding, blistered feet.

Before him stood a majestic hall, awe-inspiring and magnificent—far beyond the grandest mansion he had ever seen in the city. The outer disciples guarding the hall wore uniform robes, their expressions stern and proud as they maintained order.

Overwhelmed by the spectacle, Mo Dashan froze, looking around in daze, unaware that he had stepped on the foot of a nearby person.

“Tsk! Didn’t see where you were going? You dirtied my shoes!” the young master in fine clothes snapped.

Mo Dashan immediately snapped to attention, bowing hurriedly. “Pardon me, young master! I will clean them right away!”

Several outer disciples glanced over.

The disdainful young master frowned but then waved a hand. “Forget it, I’m just unlucky.” He brushed his sleeve and stepped aside.

The line moved forward.

Before entering the grand hall of Lingyun Sect, each candidate had to place a palm on a spirit-testing stone, which detected the awakening and quality of their spiritual roots. Those without awakened roots or with weak talent were eliminated.

Lingyun Sect, one of the seven great sects, allowed no frauds to pass.

It was Mo Dashan’s turn.

Of the ten people before him in line, seven had already failed the test, complaining fiercely before being thrown off the mountain by outer disciples.

So many prestigious heirs had failed—could a humble farmer like him truly have the potential for cultivation?

Mo Dashan’s heart trembled as he placed his palm on the stone, unable to stop shaking.

An outer disciple beside the stone glanced at him; the stone showed no unusual reaction.

“No spiritual root.”

Mo Dashan stammered, “No spiritual root? How... how can that be? I was tested before—”

“Many spirit stones in the mortal world are inaccurate. The sect’s stone is the final authority.”

The rich young master behind Mo Dashan pushed him aside with a sneer. “Another fraud trying to cheat the system. Get lost!”

Mo Dashan clumsily tried to explain, “No, there’s a venerable Immortal Master who examined me—he said I have great potential and talent—”

“Ha! A rootless waste claiming great talent? Go look in a mirror!” Laughter rang out.

“Master, please let me try again! I’m sure I have a spiritual root!”

But the outer disciples paid no heed, grabbing him roughly and tossing him down the mountain.

—

The world spun as he crashed heavily to the ground, every bone aching as if crushed. He struggled to stand but fell into a pitiful heap.

Lifting his head with difficulty, his gaze pierced through the dust to the lofty Heavenly Gate suspended in clouds—a realization dawning on him of how far he had climbed.

Climbing took days, but descending took only moments.

Suddenly, streaks of light cut through the sky and landed atop Mount Jiwei.

Si Heyu led a group of inner disciples onto the plaza before the hall, drawing a commotion. Outer disciples hurried forward, bowing respectfully.

“Greetings, Senior Brother. May I ask what business you have at Mount Jiwei today?”

Si Heyu scanned the surroundings without words, his gaze settling on the spirit-testing stone and frowning. “The stone is broken. Replace it.”

The rich young master who had just been declared rootless brightened instantly. “I told you my spirit root was awakened by guidance from Immortal Elder Qian! How could it suddenly be absent? Thank you, Senior Brother!”

Si Heyu said nothing, striding into the hall.

—

At the back mountain of Twilight Cloud Peak.

Ning Yin clutched her light blade, darting through the forest as a giant stone monster thundered after her. Each heavy step smashed down in her direction, echoing through the woods.

Agile as a cat, Ning Yin dodged each crushing blow, the sharp wind stinging her cheeks as the rock scraped close. Suddenly, the giant stone swung wildly overhead—no escape.

She swung her sword backward, blocking the blow with a sharp clang, pain flaring in her palm.

Without hesitation, she poured nearly half her spiritual power into the Light Blade. The sword sang as it moved with her will, splitting into multiple glowing phantoms that pierced through the stone monster.

The creature howled in agony, its massive form shaking violently as cracks spiderwebbed across its black rocky body, which then disintegrated into ash drifting in the air.

“The eighth way to kill a stone monster.”

In just two days, Ning Yin had learned to effortlessly slay these creatures in the illusion, her confidence swelling. Once fearful of the upcoming sect competition, she now felt eager to test herself.

The illusion faded.

She glanced at Yan Hanzhou sitting nearby in meditation, specks of slender bamboo leaves falling on his shoulders.

Ning Yin gently brushed the leaves away.

Yan Hanzhou had been secluded in cultivation for two days, deciding to refine the soul power inherited from the Lingxiao Immortal Sovereign to avoid distractions.

Ning Yin understood urgency and priority.

In the novel, after Shi Yun Zhao received the Lingxiao Immortal Sovereign’s inheritance, the sect leader personally guarded and aided her in refining the soul power. Without such help, Shi Yun Zhao could never have managed it alone.

Yan Hanzhou had just awakened a spiritual root and insisted on refining the soul power solo. Ning Yin wanted to warn him against recklessness, but this stubborn man sat in meditation without a word, indifferent to his own peril. She often saw him coughing blood or grimacing in pain, fearing he might burst from the strain.

Thankfully, Twilight Cloud Peak rarely saw visitors, so no one disturbed his refining process. Interruptions could be fatal.

Judging by the time, Yan Hanzhou should be waking soon.

Sure enough, he opened his eyes shortly after.

“How did it go? Successful?”

Yan Hanzhou shook his head. “The spiritual energy here is too thin. I can’t completely refine the soul power.”

“What now?”

“Without abundant spiritual energy, thorough refinement isn’t a matter of days.”

Abundant spiritual energy?

Ning Yin suddenly thought of the dense mist-like spiritual energy condensed within the Cangming Ring. Her eyes lit up as she lifted the ring for Yan Hanzhou to see.

“There’s rich spiritual energy in the Cangming Ring. It should help you fully refine the soul power.”

Yan Hanzhou was not unaware of this.

But—

“The Cangming Ring has already accepted you as its master. Only you can use the spiritual energy inside. This isn’t urgent. We’ll take it slow.”

“Slow? The sect competition is next month! Where’s the time to go slow?” Ning Yin lamented. “The spiritual energy in the ring is so dense that even I can’t use it. The moment I touch it, I feel like my meridians will burst.”

“Your foundation is too shallow. The energy inside the ring is too concentrated. Reckless use will be your death knell.”

“Is there a way to extract it for you to use?”

Yan Hanzhou pondered briefly. “The ring has bonded to you with your blood. If you send a thread of your spirit into the ring and silently recite the incantation ‘Essence hidden, unseen across the worlds,’ the energy will flow out at your command and can even condense into spirit stones for your convenience.”

Before Yan Hanzhou could finish, Ning Yin closed her eyes, calming her spirit, directing a strand of consciousness into the ring, and silently chanting the incantation. Soon, a veil of dense, mist-like spiritual energy emerged, swirling around her like a living thing.

Her eyes brightened instantly, excitement nearly making her leap. “It worked! It really worked!”

A faint smile tugged at Yan Hanzhou’s lips.

Ning Yin moved her thoughts, guiding the energy into Yan Hanzhou’s spirit sea, eyes blazing as she asked, “Can you use it?”

“Yes.” Yan Hanzhou nodded, then his expression darkened. “But refining the soul power requires a vast amount of spiritual energy. You will need to continuously draw energy from the Cangming Ring. Every thread you summon consumes much spirit power—you won’t be able to sustain it.”

“How will I know if I can’t sustain it without trying? You can use your clone to help me increase my cultivation. Why can’t I help you refine the soul power?” Ning Yin spoke resolutely. “Even if I fail, helping you progress even a little is worth it. This soul power is the inheritance of the Lingxiao Immortal Sovereign. Do you know who helped Sister Shi refine it in the novel? The sect leader! If I can help you refine the soul power, doesn’t that mean I have the makings of a sect leader too?”

“Enough talk. Let’s just try. I’ll guide you. Tell me what to do after you draw out the energy.”

Before Yan Hanzhou could speak, Ning Yin closed her eyes, silently chanting the incantation.

A wispy, mist-like spiritual energy poured forth from the Cangming Ring.

Yan Hanzhou fell silent, reaching out to grasp Ning Yin’s right hand, the one wearing the ring.

The moment their fingers intertwined, Ning Yin was taken aback. Unaccustomed to such intimate contact with a man, she instinctively tried to pull away. But then she steadied herself and clasped his hand back firmly.

A thick, white mist of spiritual energy streamed from the ring, flowing continuously through their joined fingers into Yan Hanzhou’s body.

Yan Hanzhou closed his eyes, gathering his spirit. His consciousness moved along the minor cycles, circulating repeatedly, allowing the dense energy to surge through his meridians and acupoints. His frail spiritual root thrived under the stimulation, while the millennium-old soul power merged with his residual soul, sharing a common origin.

Yet, as Yan Hanzhou had said, drawing energy from the ring demanded a strong spirit.

Ning Yin’s cultivation was only at the Foundation Establishment stage; her spirit was weak. After just half an hour, cold sweat drenched her forehead, and her trembling hand gripped Yan Hanzhou’s tightly.

The flow of energy slowed, sensing her struggle. Yan Hanzhou tried to loosen his fingers, but Ning Yin squeezed harder.

Time slipped by silently as the mist circulated and Ning Yin’s spirit power waned.

Her body neared its limit. Every difficult pull felt as if her spirit sea was being torn apart. Sweat soaked her temples and cheeks, dripping onto Yan Hanzhou’s hand.

His closed eyes twitched slightly.

“Hold on! Just a little longer... almost done...” she encouraged herself silently, her nails digging crescent marks into his hand.

Just as she felt her spirit stretched to breaking, ready to plunge into boundless darkness, an indescribable force suddenly surged within her nearly depleted spirit sea. A pure, mighty torrent of spirit power erupted without warning.

The once sluggish, thin energy instantly became vibrant and smooth. The agonizing pain that almost tore her spirit vanished, replaced by a profound clarity and power that swept through her.

She could clearly feel her spirit growing stronger.

Two hours later, Yan Hanzhou opened his eyes.

The soul power inside him had fully merged with the residual soul. His lifelong sword cultivation insights, like sparks, were etched into his fragmented spiritual core.

Ning Yin’s clothes were soaked with cold sweat; her face pale and weak. Seeing Yan Hanzhou awaken, she forced a smile of pride and said, “See? I told you—I have the makings of a sect leader.”