While Mike remained sealed inside the cave, refining pill after pill, Jian Wu stayed submerged within the frozen lake.
The melted essence of the three flowers their energies already dissolved and stabilized and spread through the water like invisible tides. Jian Wu absorbed it completely. The energy entered her meridians smoothly, nourishing her dantian and soul alike.
Once the absorption was complete, she did not move for fifteen full days, Jian Wu remained in the same position beneath the lake, eyes closed, breath steady. The water around her was unnaturally calm, as if the lake itself had fallen into meditation. During this time, her consciousness drifted deep into comprehension of ice and water.
Cold was not merely freezing.
Water was not merely flowing.
She understood restraint, gentleness, and overwhelming force all at once.
When that understanding reached its natural peak, Jian Wu did not force anything. She waited. She waited until her foundation was perfectly aligned, until her spirit, body, and comprehension resonated as one.
Only then did she move.
The breakthrough came naturally.
Her cultivation surged forward, shattering the boundary of Dou ba Realm and stepping cleanly into Jing Ying First Step, as she condensed her True Core. The process was flawless.
At that moment, the lake trembled.
A vast surge of power erupted upward, tearing through the surface of the water like a pillar, soaring straight into the sky. The heavens rippled briefly as cold-blue light expanded outward before slowly fading.
A perfect breakthrough.
Inside the cave, Mike was calmly arranging the thirty pills he had refined, placing them one by one into his storage ring with practiced care.
Then, he froze.
The surge of energy rushed past the cave entrance, unmistakable.
Mike straightened immediately, eyes lighting up as he turned toward the lake. Good, he said, a genuine smile breaking across his face. This is a rare thing… witnessing someone else's breakthrough.
He paused, then added quietly, She may only be Jing Ying First Step now… but she's already beyond the ordinary Jing Ying Realm. Images flashed in his mind, Jian Wu fighting the Ice Heart Serpent, her calm under pressure, her instinctive control. This was bound to happen.
Back in the lake, the turbulence slowly settled. The water returned to stillness as Jian Wu opened her eyes. Her state stabilized quickly. She began moving upward, intending to leave the lake.
Then she stopped. Her gaze turned downward, toward the depths. What's inside…? she murmured softly. Why did Brother Mike tell me to go there?
Doubt crossed her face. Should I go? Or not? At that moment, a blink of light flashed deep below, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared. Jian Wu's heart skipped. What was that? she whispered. Her brows furrowed. I felt it… someone is calling me.
The hesitation lasted only a breath. Then, instead of rising, Jian Wu turned back toward the depths of the lake and descended. She dove deeper. The water grew denser the farther she descended, pressure wrapping around her body like invisible hands. Soon, the lakebed vanished beneath her feet, and something solid emerged from the darkness. There is something, she murmured. She reached out.
The instant her fingers brushed against it, the world shifted. There was no violent rejection. No expulsion. No force pushing her away. Instead, She was inside.
Jian Wu found herself standing within a vast, silent place. The first thing she felt was suppression, heavy, ancient, and absolute. It was the same feeling Mike had felt too. A pressure not aimed at the body, but at the soul.
Before her stretched a bridge, cracked and scarred, its surface etched with fractures as though countless battles had once torn through this place. Not that she saw such battles but the scars spoke for themselves.
Behind her nothing. Only white mist, endless and impenetrable. Ahead of her the same mist. The only visible area was the bridge itself.
Above, jagged broken rock hung like the remains of a collapsed cavern or a ruined hall that had long forgotten its original form. Below the bridge, mist churned quietly, concealing whatever lay beneath. Depth was meaningless here.
Jian Wu stood still for a moment, steadying her breath. Then she began to walk. Fear never crossed her mind. She moved forward with intent. Hours passed.
The bridge continued endlessly, stretching far beyond what logic would allow. Eventually, she noticed something new: pillars, standing along the edges of the bridge. At first, they were modest in size, worn and fractured like the bridge itself.
But the farther she walked, the larger they became. Taller. Thicker. More imposing.
Each step forward made her feel smaller. Then the bridge ended and stairs appeared.
Stone stairs, ascending upward into mist so thick that the top was completely invisible.
Jian Wu stepped onto them. Time lost meaning because this one step feels a year. Then One day passed in real but Jian wu feels ten years. Then she continued but stairs did not end.
Each step grew heavier than the last. Her breathing became uneven. Her legs trembled. Her spiritual energy circulation slowed, strained by the suppressive pressure of this place.
Her will pushed her forward but her body began to resist.
Finally, Jian Wu stopped. She sat down on one of the steps, chest rising and falling as exhaustion overtook her. Sweat clung to her skin despite the cold, and her limbs felt hollow. She looked back. The bridge was gone. Only mist. Going back is impossible, she said quietly. She lifted her gaze forward , eyes narrowing as she stared into the endless ascent. But going forward… she exhaled, …is unpredictably vast but full of opportunities, I think.
She reached into her storage and took out a small bottle energy liquid essence. Clear, faintly glowing. Unlike pills, it required no refinement inside the body, no resistance. The moment she drank it, warmth spread through her veins. Her fatigue faded. Her breathing stabilized. Her spiritual energy surged back, gentle and smooth.
Jian Wu stood without another word, she continued climbing upward. But time lost its meaning long ago.
Step after step, her consciousness thinned, sustained only by will. The suppression never weakened, yet it no longer felt hostile only testing. As if the stairs themselves were observing her.
Then, she saw the final step. The moment her foot touched it, the world shifted. There was no explosion, no distortion of space. The mist vanished instantly, and the oppressive vastness collapsed into something… contained.
Jian Wu found herself in a small room. Simple. Deliberate. Everything was crafted from wood, smooth wooden floors, plain walls, a modest wooden table with two seats placed neatly at its center. The air carried a faint rose fragrance, soft and calming, completely at odds with the place she had just crossed.
Most striking of all, a simple wooden coffin rested quietly within the room.
Candles burned before it, their flames steady and unmoving, untouched by time. The wax never melted. The fire never flickered.
Jian Wu froze for a brief moment, shock flashing through her eyes.
Then she composed herself.
She stepped forward, brought her hands together, and bowed deeply toward the coffin.
Senior, she said respectfully, may I know where I am? And whose resting place this is? She raised her head slightly. This place looks simple… but I know it is not. Silence followed. Then, a soft laugh echoed through the room.
White energy seeped from the coffin, gathering in the air. It twisted and condensed, taking form with natural ease.
A beautiful white cat appeared.
Its white fur shimmered faintly, eyes sharp and intelligent, carrying an ageless calm. It circled Jian Wu slowly, its tail swaying lazily as if this were its domain as if it always had been.
Hah… the cat spoke, voice light yet carrying weight. People of this era are usually rude… and dull. It stopped in front of her, gaze locking onto Jian Wu's. But you are different. Polite. Observant. Sharp. The cat tilted its head slightly. Why are you here?"
Jian Wu hesitated for a heartbeat, then answered honestly. Senior, I entered a portal beneath the lake. I walked for nearly 100 years without knowing where I was going. Then… I arrived here. She lowered her gaze briefly. I do not know this place, nor how I came.
The white cat circled Jian Wu again, as if stripping away layers she herself did not know existed. Hm and thinks she felt 100 years but still she walk. Then that means… it said, you came here for my inheritance.
Jian Wu frowned slightly. Inheritance… senior, I…
No thinking, the cat cut in, tail flicking once. Do as I say. Three things. Its voice was unhurried, absolute. First. Light the candle and place it before the coffin. Then bow three times.
A candle appeared on the wooden table, its wick untouched by flame. Jian Wu hesitated only a breath. She stepped forward, lit the candle, and placed it carefully before the coffin. The flame burned steadily. She bowed once. Twice. Thrice.
Second, the cat continued, drink the tea. A porcelain cup now sat on the table, steam rising gently. The scent was faintly floral, tinged with something deeper, old, bitter, and unfamiliar.
Jian Wu picked it up and drank the tea in a single swallow. The liquid was warm almost gentle but the moment it slid down her throat, her heartbeat spiked.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The room wavered. Her vision blurred, the walls dissolving like mist, and when her senses steadied again, she was no longer inside the hall.
She stood in a garden. The air was warm, enough to slow her breathing without her realizing it. Tall leafy plants surrounded her, their greens deep and alive, veins faintly glowing as if nourished by unseen light. Vines climbed pale stone arches, and beneath them bloomed rows of roses, crimson and pale pink, full, flawless, heavy with fragrance.
Too perfect.
Butterflies drifted lazily through the air white, pale blue, almost translucent. Landing briefly on petals before lifting again. When their wings moved, they scattered faint motes of light, like dust caught in sunlight.
Jian Wu took a step forward. The roses closest to her leaned, ever so slightly, as if acknowledging her presence. A few petals loosened and fell, spinning gently before resting on the grass.
Her heart tightened. She didn't know why.
Another step.
The fragrance deepened. Only inviting. Comforting. It stirred something unfamiliar in her chest, something warm and dangerously soft. Her thoughts slowed, drawn toward the quiet promise hidden within the garden's stillness.
A butterfly drifted close. It hovered near her fingers, close enough that she could see the delicate patterns etched into its wings.
Instinctively, she reached out. The moment her fingers moved butterfly vanished. Not flying away. Gone.
The air where it had hovered felt suddenly hollow.
Jian Wu froze.
The garden remained unchanged. Roses still bloomed. Butterflies still drifted. Yet something invisible had shifted. The warmth no longer soothed her. The silence pressed closer, heavier.
A single rose petal fell at her feet. Then another. Her breath grew shallow. This isn't real, she whispered, though she wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince herself or the garden.
Suddenly, the roses collapsed.
Petals scattered violently across the ground, their pink and red darkening as if soaked in blood. The fragrance twisted, sweet dissolving into the sharp tang of iron and decay. Among the fallen petals lay a butterfly, crushed and motionless, its wings torn and lifeless.
Jian Wu staggered back.
Pain flared beneath her skin. Pale pink veins surfaced along her arms and neck, glowing faintly, spreading like cracks through porcelain.
No… she whispered.
She turned and ran.
The garden stretched endlessly before her, paths folding and reforming as she fled. Leaves brushed her sleeves. Butterflies scattered in sudden flurries, always close, always unreachable. Behind her, beauty decayed and rebuilt itself in cycles—bloom, collapse, bloom again.
The fragrance followed her.
Not fading.
Calling.
Then a voice reached her ears.
Not loud. Not commanding.
Soft. Clear. Ancient.
Layered, as if spoken by many mouths across time.
Lingyuan… Baihe.
Her steps faltered.
Lingyuan Baihe.
Jian Wu stumbled to a halt, breath ragged, heart pounding. She turned slowly.
The garden stood as it had before roses upright, butterflies drifting, light warm and gentle. No blood. No ruin.
Yet the name lingered in the air, tender and distant, like something remembered rather than heard.
Her heart beat hard.
Fear settled deep within her but quiet and heavy. This garden was not trying to trap her. It was inviting her.
Now her memories began to slide free.
Fragments spilled out childhood, cultivation, pain, resolve layer upon layer peeling away. The pressure was suffocating, merciless.
The cat's voice sounded again, softer now, tinged with surprise. Ah… her memories are flowing out. Little girl, stay strong. Endure it. Bear my inheritance.
Then, another presence surfaced. Memory of a boy who is Mike. A familiar aura and presence etched too deeply into cat soul.
Then cat froze. How is this possible? it muttered. No. And this white cat dissolved into light. In its place stood a woman.
Silver hair cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, catching the candle's glow. She reclined casually against the polished wooden floor, posture relaxed yet carrying an unmistakable authority. A simple, translucent white dress draped around her form, ethereal but restrained.
Behind her, the wooden coffin rested in silence. Candles burned without flicker. Pale butterflies hovered motionless in the air, suspended between motion and stillness.
Her eyes clear, ancient, piercing, fixed on Jian Wu's memory. He… the woman murmured slowly. Is he alive?
She tilted her head slightly, studying the fragment of memory still echoing in the space.
But he is not the same person.
The silver-haired woman's expression shifted something unreadable passing through it. Then she vanished. The room fell silent. The candle continued to burn.