While Xuefeng managed to survive his first day in another world, far away, someone he held dear was busy rewriting her fate—ripping apart the threads of destiny with her own hands.
That day in the Central Region was supposed to be immortalized in history. The union of two of the most powerful families was meant to forge an alliance unshakable for centuries. But instead of celebration, the Xiao Family awoke to chaos. The Xiao princess—prized jewel of the family—was found half-dead in her bed, blood soaking the sheets like a macabre wedding gift.
The halls of the Xiao mansion were thick with panic. Guests were ushered away under thinly veiled excuses while Xiao Fang, patriarch of the family, stormed into his study. His hands trembled as he read the physician's report: no assassins, no poisons. The truth was a blade far sharper—his daughter had staged her own death to escape an unwanted marriage.
Later, in the judgment hall, the air was heavy with murmurs. Elders whispered behind their sleeves, their words slithering like snakes, until Xiao Fang's arrival silenced them. He sat on his throne-like chair, his fingers drumming against the cold wood as Tianshi entered, her face a mask of calm. She moved with a deliberate grace, her every step a quiet rebellion.
Xiao Fang's eyes narrowed as he studied her. The girl before him was a stranger—gone was the gentle, obedient daughter he'd raised. "Tianshi," he began, his voice low but taut. "Can you explain what happened? I thought you liked the Tang boy."
She didn't flinch, didn't so much as blink. Her gaze was sharp, unyielding. "I never said I liked him," she replied evenly. "You decided everything without asking me."
The words hit him harder than a slap. Her voice, once soft and melodic, now carried a steel edge that made his stomach churn. For the first time, Xiao Fang saw something in his daughter he hadn't before—defiance.
"And why," he asked, his tone growing colder, "did you not tell me this earlier? Why go to such extremes? Do you realize the grief you've caused your mother?"
Tianshi's composure cracked. A single tear streaked down her cheek, and then the floodgates opened. "I did tell you! I told you so many times, but you never listened!" Her voice shook, but it was underpinned by a fury that scorched the air. "I said I wanted to choose my own future, but you dismissed me. You said I was too young to decide! You care about nothing but profits and alliances. Have you ever thought about what I want?"
Her words poured out like a dam breaking, every sentence an accusation, every syllable a wound. Xiao Fang tried to speak, but each time he opened his mouth, her voice drowned him out. She stood there, fiery and unrelenting, exposing every crack in the foundation of his authority.
It was his wife's voice, soft yet firm, that finally broke the storm. "Let her go, husband. A bird must leave the nest eventually."
Xiao Fang turned to her, his jaw tight, but her gaze held steady. Slowly, he exhaled, the tension bleeding out of him. "Elder Yang," he barked, his voice echoing through the hall. "Announce to the public that the wedding is canceled. Apologize to our guests and offer the Tang family a treasure as compensation."
Gasps erupted from the elders. "Leader Xiao, please reconsider!" Elder Yang pleaded, his face ashen. "The consequences—"
"Are you deaf?" Xiao Fang roared, his voice a cannon blast that rattled the walls. The sheer force of it left the elders visibly trembling. "My daughter does not want to marry that boy. The wedding is canceled. If the Tang family has an issue, they can take it up with me directly."
No one dared challenge him further. The elders shuffled out, their protests muted, leaving only the Xiao family in the hall's oppressive silence.
"Thank you, Father!" Tianshi's voice, warm and trembling, shattered the stillness. She flung herself into his arms, her embrace fierce. For a moment, Xiao Fang felt the weight of the world lift—his daughter's joy a rare balm to his soul.
He patted her head, his smile weary but genuine. "Go with your mother. I have work to do."
Tianshi and her mother left, their footsteps echoing down the hall. But in the privacy of her quarters, the warmth between them cooled. Her mother's voice turned sharp, her worry spilling out in a scolding tone. "Do you have any idea what you put us through? I thought I'd lost you, Tianshi. Swear to me you'll never try something like that again."
"I'm sorry," Tianshi whispered, her arms wrapping around her mother. "I promise."
Her mother sighed, stroking Tianshi's hair. "If not the Tang boy, is there someone else? Someone you'd rather marry?"
Tianshi tilted her head toward the window, her eyes fixed on the stars. "There is someone," she said softly. "Someone I can't stop thinking about. I dream of him often, and I know he's the one."
Her mother frowned. "Who is he? Which family does he belong to?"
"He told me his name was Liu Xuefeng," Tianshi murmured. "But I don't even know if that's real. I'll find him, though. If I can't, I'll search every corner of the continent. I'll know it's him the moment I see him."
Her mother studied her daughter's determined face, unsure whether to be impressed or terrified. "And if he doesn't come?"
Tianshi's smile was small but certain. "He will. He's the kind of man who would die to protect me."
Her mother didn't reply. Outside, the night stretched long and cold, the stars distant and uncaring. But in Tianshi's chest burned a fire that would not be extinguished, no matter the odds.
***
Xuefeng woke to the sun slicing through his curtains, its golden rays feeling almost accusatory as they poured into the room. Noon already. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so deeply—or dreamed so vividly. The fragments of his dreams lingered at the edges of his mind, whispering half-formed images he couldn't quite grasp.
He stretched and dressed quickly, his movements brisk, almost defensive, as if trying to shake off the weight of a lazy morning. He didn't bother calling for Wuying; instead, he went looking for her, his stomach growling with the demand for breakfast.
He found her in the small training grounds of his courtyard, her body a blur of motion. She was wielding a pair of daggers, the blades flashing like trapped lightning as she moved through a series of intricate strikes and counters. Each swing was precise, each step fluid and deadly, as if her body had been forged specifically for the dance of combat. Sweat gleamed on her skin, catching the light like tiny jewels.
He stood in the shadows, mesmerized, until her voice cut through his trance like the edge of a blade.
"How long are you going to stand there spying on me?" she teased, her tone light but with a sharp edge of amusement.
Xuefeng stepped into the open, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't know you were this skilled with blades. Now I know who my teacher's going to be." His eyes flicked over her, taking in the sheen of sweat on her toned abs and the way her loose skirt shifted with each movement. He forced himself to focus on her face. "Do you want to bathe before we eat breakfast?"
Wuying smirked, clearly aware of his effort not to stare. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and stepped closer. "Why? Do you plan to join me, Xuefeng?"
Her boldness caught him off guard, and he chuckled nervously. "Since when did you get so cheeky? Yesterday you could barely handle a hug without turning red."
She shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk as she sheathed her daggers. "Yesterday you were my Young Master. Today, you're my Xuefeng."
"Your Xuefeng, huh?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow as she brushed past him toward the bathhouse.
The words hung in the air, charged with an implication he wasn't ready to address. He wanted to correct her, but her teasing smile and the sway of her figure as she walked away left him rooted to the spot.
"I'll be waiting inside," Wuying called over her shoulder, a wink punctuating her words as she disappeared behind the door. "You're free to join me if you change your mind."
Xuefeng exhaled sharply and rubbed his face, trying to scrub away the thoughts racing through his mind. Focus, he told himself. You're here to survive, not get distracted by beautiful women offering themselves like a trap baited with honey.
But as he walked toward the kitchen, he couldn't help the gnawing suspicion that Wuying's newfound boldness wasn't random. His mind replayed her reaction from the day before when he'd mentioned Tianshi. Does she think I have another girl? Is that why she's ramping up the flirting?
The thought unsettled him. He'd already been wrestling with his old feelings for her, and if she kept pushing, his control might slip. The stakes in this world were too high to risk entangling himself further. Thankfully, Elder Ming's arrival offered him a reprieve.
The elder's presence was as unassuming as ever, but there was a sharpness to his eyes, like he saw more than he let on. He greeted Xuefeng without a hint of judgment for his late breakfast. "Eat," he said, waving a hand. "I'll explain the basics of cultivation while you do."
The explanation was surprisingly straightforward, yet it carried profound implications. Cultivation began with awakening the Spirit—a vital process that required him to split his consciousness into two distinct portions. One part would remain his own, while the other had to be imprinted onto the Spirit residing within his dantian. This bond between his consciousness and the Spirit was the cornerstone of cultivation. Only after forming this connection could he draw Spirit Essence from the air and refine it into Spirit Qi, the life force that powered a cultivator's abilities. Without this step, no progress could be made on the path of cultivation.
"Most cultivators rely on the Spirit Awakening Pill to wake their spirits," Elder Ming explained, his tone tinged with disdain. "It's cheap and effective but offers no benefit beyond the bare minimum. Here in our Clan, we use something far superior—the Spirit Awakening Liquid. Not only does it awaken your spirit, but it also nourishes and enhances it, increasing its talent. With higher talent, you'll absorb more Spirit Essence into your dantian and progress through the cultivation stages much faster." His pride in the Clan's resources was unmistakable.
"How is talent measured?" Xuefeng asked, his curiosity piqued as he absently picked at the cold food Wuying had prepared earlier.
"You can tell your talent by the color of your Qi," Elder Ming began, his tone steady but measured. "There are nine levels of Spirit talent: golden, black, purple, dark blue, sky blue, dark green, light green, red, and orange. Golden is the highest and rarest, while orange is the lowest. If you have at least a sky-blue talent, you are almost guaranteed to become a well-known cultivator."
He paused, his gaze sharp, as if trying to temper Xuefeng's expectations. "Golden talents are the stuff of legends. There have only been a handful of such people in history, and they all became Emperors or Saints. The chances of anyone awakening with golden talent are astronomically small."
Xuefeng nodded, his attention unwavering as he processed the information.
"Now, let me tell you about the first major hurdle on your path," Elder Ming continued. "Once you awaken your spirit, your next task will be to fill your dantian with Spirit Qi. This stage is called the Spirit Gathering stage. It's a crucial process, but how long it takes depends entirely on your talent."
Xuefeng furrowed his brow. So everything hinges on talent, he thought grimly. "How long does it usually take?"
"The range varies widely," Elder Ming replied. "For those with orange talent, it could take up to a year. For golden talent, it takes just one day. Most cultivators fall somewhere in between—one to three months—which is likely where you'll be unless you turn out to be a genius." He gave Xuefeng a speculative glance. "Once your dantian is full, the real work begins. You'll need to expand its capacity by breaking through the walls surrounding it. Breaking the first wall elevates you to the rank of Spirit Master—a milestone that many with lower talents never surpass."
Xuefeng frowned, his discomfort evident. "So, the better your talent, the faster you gather Spirit Essence, the stronger your Qi, and the easier it is to climb the ranks. Doesn't that mean most people's futures are decided at birth? That's… unfair."
Elder Ming let out a sigh that carried the weight of experience. "Life as a cultivator is inherently unfair. Those with lower talent must rely on expensive pills and Spirit Herbs to improve their Qi quality and aid their breakthroughs. It's a constant struggle." He softened slightly. "But you don't need to worry too much. The Clan Leader will invest in raising your talent with the clan's resources."
Despite the reassurance, Xuefeng couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. The thought of awakening with a low talent sent a shiver down his spine. His survival depended on more than just effort—it depended on luck.
Let's hope that Fate Spirit I got in Middle Heaven will somehow improve my talent… he thought, finishing his meal. "Is there anything else I should know?"
Elder Ming nodded thoughtfully. "While the higher ranks won't matter to you for now, it's good to understand what lies ahead. Breaking the second wall in your dantian elevates you to Spirit Grandmaster, and the third wall makes you a Spirit King. The Clan Leader himself is a Spirit King, which should tell you how difficult it is to reach that level."
Xuefeng smirked internally. He had no intention of stopping at Spirit King. He was in a cultivation world, after all. Why aim for anything less than godhood?
"Tomorrow, you'll participate in the Spirit Awakening Ceremony," Elder Ming added. "You'll also get the chance to enter the Spirit Treasury. I've prepared a manual that explains everything you need to know about Spirit Artifacts." He placed a booklet on the table. "Read it carefully. If you have questions, you can call me, though I'd appreciate it if you didn't—I'm busy preparing for the ceremony."
Xuefeng flipped through the manual, impressed by its content. It not only detailed Spirit Artifacts but also provided a comprehensive guide to the cultivation system. His experience with studying on Earth made the material easy to digest.
"Thank you, Elder. This is more than enough for me," Xuefeng said sincerely, his eyes darting toward the bathroom. "If I have questions, I'll just ask Wuying. She's knowledgeable enough to help a newbie like me."
The words had barely left his mouth when Elder Ming froze, his composure faltering. He coughed awkwardly, retreating hastily. "Is that so? Well… I suppose I'll take my leave, then. Study well."
Xuefeng raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his mind as the elder all but fled the room.
"What's his deal?" he muttered, staring at the booklet before turning his attention to more pressing matters—like avoiding the temptation waiting behind the bathroom door.