Chapter 260

Chapter 260: Meditation Peak

After Fang He finished speaking, every gaze swung to Wang Jie.

He was alive. Whatever else anyone wanted to accuse him of, that single fact blew a hole through it all.

Wang Jie chuckled and took out a small boat. “This is how I made it back.”

People stared, murmurs rippling outward.

“What is that?”

“A supreme treasure from the Zhi Vault,” Wang Jie said, lifting his chin. “I chose it.”

Fang He’s face twitched. The Zhi Vault was the Zhi family’s treasury. How could this man possibly have something from there?

Elder Wu and Elder Mo studied the boat, then looked up sharply.

“Don’t tell me that thing can float on the cloudstream,” Elder Wu said.

“Of course it can,” Wang Jie replied. “Elder, you’re welcome to try.”

Elder Wu took the boat and stepped into the cloudstream.

Everyone waited.

Shuang Jin watched the direction he’d gone. In the distance, Elder Wu set the boat down on the cloudstream—and it rose, steady as if on water. It actually floated.

Shuang Jin turned back, surprise flickering through her eyes. “It floats on the cloudstream.”

Fang He’s expression darkened. “Even if it floats, that doesn’t prove Wang Jie isn’t a mole. Back then, how did he escape Edge Gate’s blockade?”

Wang Jie laughed like he’d heard a joke. “Would Edge Gate bother blockading a dead man? Senior Brother, weren’t you the one who decided I was dead?”

Fang He opened his mouth, then shut it again, speechless.

Elder Wu returned and handed the boat back, genuine amazement in his voice. “Not bad. In all these years, I’ve never seen anything float on the cloudstream besides planet fragments.”

His eyes narrowed at Wang Jie. “So you used this to slip out of Edge Gate’s sight?”

Wang Jie nodded. “Yes. Edge Gate thought I was dead, so no one investigated. I used it to get away. I got lucky—hid on an uninhabited planet fragment to recover. The trip was rough, but I made it back.”

It was true. He only left out the later part—his bad luck, and being captured again.

As for the boat’s secret, if he wanted to return, he had no choice but to reveal it. And to someone at the roaming-star realm, a boat that could float on the cloudstream might not even count as irreplaceable.

“Impossible,” Fang He snapped. “He couldn’t have come back alive. The battlefield is close to Edge Gate. How could he not be discovered?”

Wang Jie’s smile turned sharp. “So Senior Brother thinks I should’ve died?”

Fang He’s fist tightened. He turned and bowed to Shuang Jin. “Chief Huntsman, please decide. Examine him. Confirm whether he’s a mole.”

Wang Jie bowed as well. “Chief Huntsman, please decide. There were others who saw Fang He abandon the line back then.”

Fang He’s heart sank. There had been witnesses—plenty of them.

If Wang Jie were dead, those people would keep their mouths shut. But Wang Jie wasn’t dead.

Worse—this Wang Jie had somehow drawn the attention of lord-level figures, not just ordinary disciples.

Elder Wu and Elder Mo exchanged a glance, then both looked to Shuang Jin.

Shuang Jin’s gaze settled on Fang He. “I’m certain of one thing: Wang Jie has not been controlled by Edge Gate.”

Edge Gate’s control methods only worked as long as a mole remained undiscovered. Once someone was exposed, you could always find the telltale “drop of mercury” they used.

The problem was removing it.

Edge Gate didn’t care whether a mole was exposed. They only cared that the mole didn’t die on their side.

Only Wang Jie himself knew the truth—there was no control in him at all.

If word ever reached Edge Gate, they might even grow suspicious. But making it back alive was already a victory. Edge Gate never expected him to accomplish anything more.

Fang He’s face went ashen. Suspicion meant nothing without proof—especially now that the boat itself explained how Wang Jie survived.

And Fang He’s abandonment had witnesses.

One by one, people’s gazes slid toward Fang He.

His expression stiffened. He bowed deeply. “This disciple did not deliberately abandon Junior Brother Wang. Circumstances were urgent. This disciple had elders and other senior brothers to save. Compared to a lockforce cultivator, starforce cultivators were more important. I beg the Chief Huntsman to judge fairly.”

A confession, dressed up with ribbon.

He hadn’t said “fled,” but no one here was naive.

Wang Jie didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Shuang Jin watched Fang He for a long moment, eyes unreadable, then said calmly, “Fang He, in light of your conduct, your Zhi Affairs Token is confiscated. You will remain in the Cloudstream Domain for ten years under supervision. You are not permitted to leave.”

Fang He clenched his jaw and accepted the order through his teeth.

“Dismissed.”

Fang He left. At the edge of the crowd, he shot Wang Jie a venomous look.

Wang Jie met it coldly. This wasn’t finished. Fang He had nearly gotten him killed. Ten years and a token didn’t even begin to balance the scales.

“Wang Jie,” Shuang Jin said.

Wang Jie stepped forward and bowed. “I’m here.”

Her expression softened. “The mission to reinforce Fang He was mine. I forced it on you. Do you blame me?”

Blame her? Even if he did, he wouldn’t dare say it.

Wang Jie answered smoothly, “I’m on the battlefield. Serving the sect is my duty. It is the mission of a Black-White Heaven disciple—and the fate of all cultivators.”

Elder Wu and Elder Mo both blinked. The kid really knew how to talk.

Shuang Jin smiled. “Well said. Those words should be spoken to every Black-White Heaven disciple—especially the ones hiding in the sect who refuse to come to war.”

Elder Wu rolled his eyes under his breath. If anyone had a choice, who would choose the battlefield?

Shuang Jin continued, “Your mission succeeded. You also broke an array. You will receive one hundred million battle merit points.”

Wang Jie kept his face steady, though disappointment tugged at him. Not much.

“Additionally,” Shuang Jin said, “in recognition of your resolve—and as compensation for being abandoned—you are permitted to enter Meditation Peak for half a year.”

Wang Jie frowned. “Meditation Peak?”

Elder Wu’s eyes widened. “Kid, why aren’t you thanking the Chief Huntsman? Meditation Peak is a special place within the command hub. Once you enter, no matter what happens outside, you don’t have to respond.”

He lowered his voice. “Even if the command hub is breached, those inside Meditation Peak aren’t obligated to fight. You’ll have absolute freedom in the Cloudstream Domain—as long as you don’t leave.”

Wang Jie hadn’t expected such a place to exist. The reward landed like rain on parched earth. He bowed quickly, gratitude genuine.

It couldn’t have come at a better time. He had too much to work on—especially his workouts. They really did increase his strength. With time, he could push back up to eighty-nine times strength again—his current limit. He just needed a stretch where he wasn’t constantly being dragged into battle.

He also had the pattern he’d learned at skyport, Rain Sword Art, the mid tempered sword-thread, and more. Too many paths to pursue, too little peace.

Meditation Peak wasn’t far—five planets arranged in a ring.

With Elder Wu leading, Wang Jie arrived and looked out over five worlds, each with its own environment. In the distance, a lone figure sat cross-legged, back turned, cultivating.

“Two people are inside at the moment,” Elder Wu said. “One is allowed four months, one is allowed ten years.”

He pointed. “That one over there is the four-month occupant. It’s about time for him to leave.”

Wang Jie’s curiosity stirred. “Who gets ten years?”

Elder Wu laughed. “Ten years is nothing. If that person wanted, they could stay forever.”

He sobered slightly. “But they won’t.”

Wang Jie wanted to press, but Elder Wu was already turning away. “Your half-year ends, you come out. Don’t try to linger. They’ll hold you accountable.”

Once Elder Wu left, Wang Jie’s attention returned to the distant cultivator. He didn’t recognize the man’s face.

But he recognized his qi.

In Edge Gate’s underground prison, Wang Jie had seen certain prisoners dragged away. He’d remembered their qi signatures the way you remembered a voice.

For a qi refining expert, qi was mutable—another mask. But people who couldn’t truly refine qi couldn’t change it.

This man’s qi matched one of the prisoners taken out of Edge Gate’s dungeon.

Which meant one thing.

He’d been released.

He was a mole.

Wang Jie walked toward him.

When he reached a respectful distance behind, he bowed. “I’m Wang Jie. May I ask Senior Brother’s name?”

The man opened his eyes, irritation creasing his brow. “Junior Brother, don’t you know it’s rude to disturb someone’s cultivation?”

Wang Jie sounded apologetic. “This is my first time at Meditation Peak. I was afraid of disrupting Senior Brother, so I came to ask where I should settle to avoid interfering.”

“Wherever you like,” the man said, indifferent.

Wang Jie nodded. “Thank you, Senior Brother.”

He withdrew, but not before glancing back and memorizing the man’s face.

Then he went searching for the other occupant—the one who could remain indefinitely.

Someone who could stay at Meditation Peak forever had to be a lord-level figure. How could he not be curious?

He searched and found nothing. When he looked back again, the mole was gone too.

By his count, nearly four months had passed since he’d last seen that qi in Edge Gate’s prison. Even if the man entered Meditation Peak immediately upon returning, his time was about up.

What merit had earned him the right to enter? Wang Jie couldn’t guess. But if Edge Gate had a hand in it, that explained enough.

Now Meditation Peak held only Wang Jie and an unseen second figure.

If he couldn’t find the other one, fine.

He had cultivation to do.

First came his body—mid tempered sword-thread paired with the nameless method of grinding tendons and bones.

Pain arrived like an old enemy.

The sword threads entered his flesh. It felt as if his body were being sliced from within, agony so sharp it numbed him until his limbs barely felt like his own.

Day after day, he ground his tendons and bones. When it was time, he did his workouts. When the pain became too much and he needed to breathe, he walked the pattern. When he had even a sliver of space, he practiced Rain Sword Art.

Time vanished into routine.

He didn’t notice the gaze from afar.

If anyone had seen him, they would’ve found it strange. No one could tell what he was doing to his body—they only saw him sitting with a twisted, pained expression. They couldn’t understand the constant workouts, or the repeated stepping along that odd pattern.

The only recognizable thing was Rain Sword Art.

After all, it was chen art.

“A lockforce cultivator who knows chen art,” someone murmured to themselves, faintly amused. “Interesting.”

The voice didn’t carry. The gaze withdrew. The observer sat down not too far away—and Wang Jie, for all his senses, never detected him.

Half a year passed.

Wang Jie’s days were so full he lived on the edge of exhaustion. He never stopped. No one disturbed him. Meditation Peak kept its promise.

The workouts pushed his star-breaking realm strength to eighty-nine times—his second limit.

As long as workouts kept working, the climb would slow, but it would never stop.

Meanwhile, the sword threads forced his body to keep pace. His tendons and bones reached a limit that could withstand eighty-nine times strength.

The result was a different kind of thirst.

Not for water.

For lockforce.

Since coming to war, he’d burned lockforce through battle after battle. He had materials to replenish it, but it was a cup against the sea. Now, after six months of growth, his hunger became sharp, almost desperate—like a man searching for water in a desert.

Rain Sword Art advanced too. He could now stack four swords. Fourfold rain carried terrifying power.

Only the walking pattern remained stubbornly opaque.

But that didn’t surprise him. Even a wandering god cared about it. It was never going to be easy.

How strong was he now?

Curiosity finally pushed him to test it.