Chapter 22
Chapter 22: Fortune and Misfortune
“That Sun-Swapping Spirit-Stealing Grand Art is monstrous,” Meng Han said, voice hoarse. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Liao siblings. If Yue Zuan had used that technique on them…
His jaw tightened. “Thank goodness we killed him today. If something like this got out, who knows what kind of disaster it would cause.”
Then he looked at Zhao Chun, expression turning serious. “Are you all right?”
Zhao Chun pressed a hand to her dantian. She hesitated, then admitted quietly, “He took my wood spirit root. I don’t know what it’ll do to my cultivation.”
Meng Han’s face darkened. He’d never heard of anything like this either. “When we get back to the sect, I’ll take you to the elders. Let them examine you and decide what it means.”
That was all they could do.
Oddly, Zhao Chun wasn’t panicking—not yet. When she circulated spiritual energy to absorb the pill earlier, she couldn’t sense wood-aspected qi at all. But the metal and fire in her meridians felt… stronger, not weaker.
A dangerous, hopeful thought tried to rise.
She shoved it down. She would know the truth once the sect tested her.
Yue Zuan had once been an Essence Condensation Stage great cultivator, but his life had been half wandering, half hiding, spending everything he had to claw his way back up. Most of his wealth had been burned away.
Still, even a starving camel outweighed a horse.
When they finished splitting, they each had 20 spirit jades and over 1,000 Cui Stones.
There was also a bag of imitation Flameburst Pellets—useful against early Qi Refining Stage cultivators, nearly useless against mid to late stage.
Meng Han glanced at them and tossed the entire bag to Zhao Chun without a second thought.
As for the Storage Brocade Pouch, it was an Essence Condensation Stage-level item. Zhao Chun could keep it, but she couldn’t be sure she could protect it. In the end, she offered it up as thanks—and Meng Han, in return, handed over his share of spirit jades and Cui Stones as well.
They left the cave, searched through the surrounding tunnels, and eventually found a hidden chamber deeper inside.
There, they discovered a Spiked Bronze Pagoda.
It was Yue Zuan’s life-bound magic tool. Now that he was dead, the pagoda had lost its power.
Meng Han opened it.
The captives tumbled out, dazed, staring at the stone as if they’d forgotten what solid ground felt like. When they saw Zhao Chun and Meng Han, realization hit them all at once.
They had been saved.
Feng San Chu rushed forward, bowing repeatedly, words tumbling out in breathless thanks. Then he learned what had happened to the Liao siblings, and his face crumpled. Grief knocked the air from him.
He asked after Hong Qian next—and only then did he learn the truth.
Madam Hong had been terrified inside the pagoda until something snapped. She had gone mad, eyes empty, muttering nonsense.
Hong Qian supported her mother with both arms. Her face was pale, but her gaze had hardened into something Zhao Chun didn’t recognize. She bowed deeply to Zhao Chun and Meng Han, gratitude raw and fierce.
Overnight, she was no longer the girl Zhao Chun remembered.
They made their way back to Ji City.
The Hong Family estate had already been stripped clean. The place looked as if it had been turned inside out—drawers emptied, rooms ransacked, wreckage scattered across the floors.
A tall, round-faced man stood watch by the front gate.
Steward Little Shuang.
He had stayed behind. When he saw Hong Qian and Madam Hong return alive, his face lit with disbelief and relief. He ran toward them. “Miss! Madam!”
Madam Hong didn’t respond. Her eyes were dull, unfocused. She leaned into her daughter, trembling faintly.
“So… only you’re left,” Hong Qian murmured. Grief shadowed her eyes, but she didn’t explain. She guided them inside.
Hong Qi Sheng’s remains had already been gathered by Little Shuang, and the inner rooms had been roughly cleaned.
Hong Qian had suspected her father was dead long before this. Still, now that it was real, her hands shook. She forced herself to speak through the tightness in her throat. “Father is gone. Our home has been looted. The payment we promised the Immortal Masters… I can’t produce it right away.”
“But please don’t worry,” she added quickly, voice firm. “Once I settle matters here, I will deliver every last coin to the Ling Zhen Sect. Not a fraction less.”
Zhao Chun, Meng Han, and Feng San Chu had no interest in pressing her. When Hong Qian insisted, they agreed to take only the two shares that had belonged to the Liao siblings and deliver them to their parents.
Hong Qian drew a long breath. “My father made too many enemies in Ji City. I plan to sell this estate and go to his mortal clan. I need to take care of Mother.”
“If I do that… there’s something I must ask the Immortal Masters to handle.”
She reached up and removed a Jeweled Torque from her neck, then handed it to Meng Han. “There’s a gemstone set in it. Under moonlight, it reveals words. That’s the immortal Dao technique—the source of the calamity that struck my Hong Family.”
“My mother and I are mortals. We tried to recruit a son-in-law, but everyone fled. Keeping this will only invite more disaster.” She bowed again, deep and unwavering. “Please accept it, Immortal Master. Consider it both apology and thanks.”
If they handed the technique to the sect, it would count as merit. Meng Han nodded and put the Jeweled Torque away.
And so the Ji City matter ended—loss and gain tangled together.
Zhao Chun bought a few small items for Zhou Pian Ran. She also entrusted Meng Han with five spirit jades and asked him to purchase a Storage Bag for her.
She had no background, little cultivation, and no stable channels. More than that, she understood the rule of survival: never reveal wealth.
Five days later, they returned to the Ling Zhen Sect.
After handing in the Hong Family technique, each of them received 500 Cui Stones. Only then did Zhao Chun realize how different value could be depending on where you stood. To rogue cultivators, that method was priceless. To the Ling Zhen Sect, it was ordinary—rated top-grade Mortal Rank and stored away in the Myriad Vault Pavilion.
Feng San Chu left to visit the Liao siblings’ parents.
Meng Han led Zhao Chun straight to an Outer Sect elder.
Elder Lin.
Meng Han walked in as if he’d done it a hundred times, bringing Zhao Chun with him.
“Weren’t you supposed to be going to Hui Ming Manor for spirit fruit?” Elder Lin asked, stroking his beard, brows lifting. “You’re back fast.”
“Something happened,” Meng Han said, settling into a seat and motioning for Zhao Chun to sit as well. “We nearly died. The spirit fruit can wait. I only just entered the ninth level. I’m not desperate for it.”
Elder Lin frowned. “You’re earth-aspected. Even cultivators at your realm can barely injure you, let alone kill you.” His gaze sharpened. “Did you run into a Foundation Establishment Stage?”
“We ran into a lunatic,” Meng Han said bluntly—and told him everything about Yue Zuan.
Elder Lin shot to his feet. “Heaven protected you two and took that vile devil’s life!”
“This must be reported. The Sect Master and the Inner Sect elders must know.”
He paced, then stopped in front of Zhao Chun and studied her. “A normal cultivator’s dantian would be ruined and their path would end. Yet you survived.” He shook his head, unsettled. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Only the wood spirit root was taken?” he asked. “Anything else unusual?”
Zhao Chun answered carefully, speaking only what was true. “When Yue Zuan tried to take another root, my metal and fire spirit roots reacted and burned him. Senior Brother Meng killed him after that.”
Elder Lin’s eyes narrowed. “A backlash…”
He leaned closer. “Has your cultivation changed? Anything you’ve felt?”
Zhao Chun hesitated, then said, “My metal and fire spiritual energy hasn’t weakened. If anything, it feels stronger. There are even signs the two are blending.”
Elder Lin considered it, then sighed. “Metal and fire are both aggressive. Perhaps without wood to temper them, they strengthened each other’s violent nature. That could be why the vile devil burned himself.”
“I can’t say what it means for you in the long term,” he added, then softened slightly. “But if this turns you into a dual spirit root cultivator… then perhaps it truly is misfortune becoming fortune.”
He led them to a Spirit-Illuminating Screen Wall. “Come. We’ll test you again.”
Zhao Chun placed her hand against it.
Gold and red flared across the surface—bright, even, balanced.
No green.
Elder Lin stared, then let out a long breath. “I’ll report this tomorrow.”
“By the rules, a dual spirit root disciple should enter the Inner Sect. But what happens next depends on the Sect Master. Don’t get your hopes too high.”
Zhao Chun nodded. The Inner Sect would be best. If it didn’t happen, she could still cultivate. Once she broke through to the Foundation Establishment Stage, she could become an Inner Sect disciple regardless.
Meng Han gave her a confident grin. “Dual spirit roots entering the Inner Sect has been a rule since the sect was founded. A rule is a rule. They can’t just ignore it.”
He lifted his brows. “I think you’ll make it, Junior Sister Zhao. When you do, you’ll have to look after me.”
Zhao Chun managed a faint smile. “I’ve shared life and death with Senior Brother Meng. When you reach the Foundation Establishment Stage, you’ll be a proper Inner Sect disciple yourself. If anything, I’ll be relying on your care.”
They spoke a little longer, then parted after thanking Elder Lin.
When Zhao Chun returned to the Daylily Garden, the others were already waiting for her, anxiety written all over their faces. The moment she stepped through the door, they surrounded her, demanding to know what had happened.
The news of the Liao siblings’ deaths had spread. Terrified, they had asked around for Zhao Chun’s whereabouts and only relaxed once they learned she was alive. Still, they feared she might be injured, so they requested leave and waited.
Zhao Chun told them what she could, omitting the worst and keeping the story clean.
It didn’t help. All four turned pale anyway. Even as they marveled at her new dual spirit roots, the fear lingered.
“Whether you enter the Inner Sect, whether you can reach the Foundation Establishment Stage—those are matters for later,” one of them said, voice shaking. “You can’t gamble your life again. Never.”
Zhao Chun nodded and agreed aloud.
Inside, she only sighed.
The path of cultivation was a fight against Heaven, a fight against people. If you didn’t fight, what future was left?