Chapter 8

Chapter 8: A Twist

Back in her room, Zhao Chun felt a headache blooming behind her eyes.

One sentence. That was all Steward Cao had said, yet she’d felt the atmosphere in the hall shift. Several gazes had swept toward her like blades.

The secret method must have left subtle traces on her—changes Steward Cao could see. Zhao Chun didn’t like being singled out.

And yet if she could do it again, she would still cultivate the same way.

If she let other people’s jealousy cut off her chance, she would deserve to lose it.

Zhao Chun wasn’t someone who excelled at scheming. She simply lived with her eyes open. Power and status were built on strength. She believed one thing above all: in the face of absolute strength, any obstacle would be crushed.

So the only answer was to become strong enough that no one dared move against her without weighing the cost.

But once she latched onto that thought, impatience crept in. Her breathing grew uneven. Her mind refused to settle.

She had to stop.

She rose, pushed open the window, and found the night deep and still.

Late spring was sliding into early summer. The courtyard was lush with life. She leaned on the sill and studied the place she’d lived for a month and still barely knew.

The others slept. The only light in the yard came from the moon, soft and pale. Compared to Sun Ga Te’s harsh sting, moonlight was gentle—like gauze draped across the world.

Sun and moon hung somewhere in the universe. Zhao Chun didn’t know if this universe was the same as the one she’d left behind.

If it was… were her family, impossibly far away, looking at the same moon? Feeling the same light?

In the courtyard, flowers she couldn’t name bloomed riot-red, like a wildfire that refused to leave any corner untouched.

Almost any corner.

One spot stayed stubbornly bare. Zhao Chun’s lips quirked.

The flower vines had climbed walls, wrapped pillars, spilled over door frames—yet the dry well stood clean as if scrubbed, its surrounding ground untouched by even a single weed.

No wonder she hadn’t realized it was a dry well. What dry well looked this tidy?

She threw on an outer robe and slipped outside, careful not to wake anyone. At the well, she bent over the rim.

Cold. Rough. No moss even in the cracks.

The darkness below swallowed her gaze. In her old world, dry wells belonged in ghost stories. Zhao Chun didn’t fear easily, but she’d learned not to scoff at the unknown.

A chill draft breathed up from the well mouth. After a moment, her skin prickled.

She was about to step back when something flashed below—so quick she nearly doubted it.

Zhao Chun narrowed her eyes, forcing focus.

It flashed again, right at the edge of her sight near the bottom.

She couldn’t describe the light, only the feeling it gave off: heat. Hunger. Like thirst after a long drought.

It grew brighter and brighter. At first it was no bigger than a grain of rice. Then it became a flame that nearly lit the entire bottom of the well.

Now she could see it clearly—an oval bead, its color strange beyond words. It was the purest red, and at the same time brilliant gold.

It reminded her of the gold-red she’d seen in her mind on the day of selection.

Desire surged in Zhao Chun’s chest, sudden and fierce.

The well wasn’t deep, and the walls were dry and clean. She climbed down slowly, careful with each foothold.

By instinct, she didn’t touch the bead with her bare hand at first. She stripped off her outer robe, wrapped it around her fingers, and lifted the bead gently.

Nothing happened.

She dared to touch it with her other hand.

Warm—almost alive. And hard as a gemstone. When it sat in her palm, it looked like something the world itself had no right to hold. No jewel she’d ever seen could compare for clarity and radiance.

The bead flickered once more, then its light faded until it became dim and nearly transparent.

But Zhao Chun could feel it: the power inside hadn’t vanished. It had only gone still, like a sleeping beast.

She tucked the bead into her clothes and climbed back out.

Whatever it was, she didn’t trust leaving it behind.

By the time she returned to bed, she guessed the night was nearing the fourth watch. She slept with the single thought that any rest was better than none.

At dawn, they were led outside the hall.

Steward Cao confirmed everyone was present, then flicked a talisman into the air. White smoke spilled out, swelling and curling until it formed a Mist Skiff.

He stepped on first. Wang Fang followed. Only after seeing the skiff hold weight did the children climb aboard one by one.

With a lift of Steward Cao’s hand, the Mist Skiff rose and shot forward, fast as a fleeing arrow, vanishing into the sky.

Zhao Chun had flown in her past life, but that had been in a steel machine driven by fuel. This was different. The Mist Skiff looked like fog made solid, yet it bore them without shaking. Clouds streamed past like river water, but the deck beneath her feet felt steady as ground.

Wang Fang explained as they flew. “This is made by a talisman cultivator—a Travel-Boat Talisman. In Heng Yun World it’s common for short trips. For long journeys, it isn’t enough.”

A talisman cultivator—someone whose craft was making talismans.

Zhao Chun couldn’t help marveling. Even in a cultivation world, people still divided labor. Mortals were people; cultivators were people. Different strengths created different roles, and roles shaped society. The structure might change, but the pattern repeated.

Their destination lay under a mass of heavy cloud. A deep rift yawned open in the sky, like a wound torn through the air. Fierce wind poured out with a roar.

When their Mist Skiff arrived, several others already hovered below the rift. Each was led by a robed Daoist dressed like Steward Cao. They cupped their hands in greeting; Steward Cao returned the salute.

“Brother Cheng,” he asked, “is everyone here?”

A short, stout Daoist answered, “Not yet. Sister Yuan and Brother Bao haven’t arrived.”

“Only those two left?” Steward Cao said. “Then I’m late as well.”

“Hah!” Brother Cheng—Cheng Tan—laughed loudly. “Not at all! We’re only ahead of you by a cup of tea.

“Some people were probably dragging everyone out of bed before dawn just to claim first place.”

The jab landed. A few of the other Daoists’ faces darkened. One snapped, “Not everyone sleeps like you do.”

Cheng Tan only grinned and kept talking with Steward Cao, clearly pleased with himself. The offended Daoist looked ready to explode—until Cheng Tan suddenly brightened.

“Sister Yuan and Brother Bao are here!”

Two Mist Skiffs approached side by side. On the left stood a beautiful woman with willow brows and clear eyes, her beauty striking and effortless. On the right was a tall man with straight posture and handsome features.

They exchanged polite greetings with the others. To keep Cheng Tan from provoking another quarrel, Steward Cao said, “Everyone is here. We shouldn’t delay. Let’s contact the guiding elder at once.”

They agreed. Steward Cao produced another talisman and sent it streaking into the rift as a beam of light.

“I wonder which elder will come,” the beautiful woman said with a smile. “If it’s Elder Qi, that would be best. I’d like to see a spell like Universe-in-the-Sleeve.”

“Master has been busy in recent years with disciples’ cultivation,” Steward Cao said. “He likely can’t spare attention. This time it should be Elder Lin.”

“Elder Lin has a fine wind-summoning art,” she replied warmly. “Sister can watch that too.”

The stewards chatted as if the gale didn’t exist.

Zhao Chun and the others weren’t so lucky. The Mist Skiff bucked in the wind. They had to grip the edge of the deck to keep from falling. Even Wang Fang steadied himself with both hands, feet sliding.

After a while, the wind grew harsher still. Zhao Chun nearly crouched to stay balanced.

Then she saw it.

A giant hand emerged from the rift above.

Slender. Pale. Gleaming like carved jade.

It reached down and, before Zhao Chun could even think to blink, clenched.

The Mist Skiff—and everyone on it—was seized and lifted as if they weighed nothing at all.

Darkness swallowed her vision. Time vanished.

Then, abruptly, daylight returned. Several Mist Skiffs floated above a forested mountain range as if nothing had happened.

Shock hit the group like a physical blow. Even the stewards fell silent, wary and shaken.

As the giant hand dispersed, a tall young woman appeared in its place. She had thick brows and large eyes, not particularly delicate—but there was a hard pride in her posture that made her stand apart. She wasn’t like a flower. She was like a mountain.

Zhao Chun’s chest tightened with a sudden, fierce envy.

That was what she wanted to become.

Steward Cao snapped to attention and bowed. “Elder Qiu has come in person. This one is Cao Wen Guan, an Outer Sect steward. Greetings, Elder!”

The other stewards hurried to bow as well. The preparatory disciples lowered their heads even further, not daring to look up.

Elder Qiu’s expression remained cold. “Recently, petty villains from other sects have repeatedly violated the rules. Foundation Establishment Stage cultivators may not be enough to handle it, so the sect master sent me to guide each Small World.

“You are already at the sect’s outer perimeter. Enter on your own. I still have other Small Worlds to guide. I will go.”

No one dared object. They watched her leave as swiftly as she’d arrived.

Only after she was gone did the beautiful woman exhale, eyes wide. “That was Elder Qiu!”

Cheng Tan still looked stunned. “An Essence Condensation Stage great cultivator… truly terrifying. That power—no one else can compare.”

Zhao Chun didn’t know exactly what Essence Condensation Stage meant. She only knew it was far beyond her.

Talismans and silver fish were borrowed power, tools that could be passed from hand to hand. Elder Qiu’s strength belonged to her alone.

If Zhao Chun wanted to walk this road to its end, she had to reach that kind of height—where the heavens and earth would bend beneath her grip.

Xie Bao Guang couldn’t stop staring into the distance. “Incredible,” he breathed. “I want to become someone like that.”

Wang Fang sighed, half warning, half weary. “Above Qi Refining Stage is Foundation Establishment Stage. Only after breaking through Foundation Establishment Stage can you reach Essence Condensation Stage. Many people spend their entire lives trapped in Qi Refining Stage.

“Don’t think about Essence Condensation Stage yet. Even Foundation Establishment Stage can suppress a whole region and found a sect.

“For now, focus on drawing qi into your bodies.”