The sun dipped low over the Yun and Yang Unity Sect, painting the skies in streaks of gold and crimson. The air was serene, filled with the rhythmic sounds of cultivation life.
Disciples gathered in clusters—some gossiped by the Clarity Pond, laughter echoing over the rippling water; others practiced stances with unwavering focus, the thud of their feet pressing into the ground in steady rhythm, a few swung their weapons in arcs of gleaming steel, perfecting their battle arts under the fading light of the sky.
But in the quiet of the reserved quarters, the atmosphere was very different. Maria, drained of strength, had already collapsed into sleep, her breathing soft and steady.
Jian sat cross-legged nearby, his eyes closed, drawing in the lingering energy left behind from their heated session. His aura pulsed faintly as he guided the flow of Qi through his meridians, refining and balancing what he could.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was sharp against the door. Jian's eyes snapped open. His expression tightened as he rose fluidly to his feet.
He moved to the door with steady steps, spiritual sense sweeping out instinctively, but what he felt left him unsettled—emptiness.
When he pulled the door open, no figure greeted him. The path outside was silent, the evening air carrying only the soft chirps of insects.
But at his feet sat a small box, neatly wrapped with a strip of green delivery linen.
Looking around, Jian found no trace of anyone in the vicinity. The path was quiet, the soft glow of lanterns flickering in the distance. He shrugged lightly, scooped up the box, and carried it back inside.
Meanwhile, not too far away, Fei Ling stepped out from behind a building, her sharp eyes following Jian's retreating figure.
So this is the disciple that's caught Fairy Mei Lian's attention? she mused inwardly. From where she stood, there was nothing extraordinary about him. His looks were above average, yes, but that was hardly impressive in a sect overflowing with handsome and beautiful cultivators.
Shaking her head lightly, she slipped away from the reserved area, her curiosity burning but her face unreadable.
Inside, Jian placed the box carefully on the wooden table. With deliberate slowness, he loosened the green linen strips and lifted the lid.
His gaze sharpened.
Inside the box, neatly arranged into compartments, were the very ingredients he had requested. Each was properly preserved—some sealed within retention containers, ensuring their volatile essence would not degrade, others wrapped in protective silk layers. The sight alone confirmed the hand of someone who knew what they were doing.
Nestled among the ingredients lay a folded slip of paper. Jian plucked it out and read.
"I don't know what you intend to do with all this, but if you kill yourself then that's on you.
Your time given to settle into the sect has expired; starting tomorrow, you will have to participate in sect activities to earn points.
Our next meeting will be in a week's time."
The corners of Jian's lips curved upward, a glint flashing in his eyes.
"Perfect." He smirked, folding the note between his fingers.
Jian returned to his room and resumed cultivation, this time focusing entirely on tempering his meridians. He had advanced too quickly, breaking through several minor realms in a short span of time. For most disciples, such leaps were celebrated, but he knew better—every skipped refinement was a crack in the foundation, a weakness that would one day cripple progress. If he was starting anew, then he would walk the flawless path, no matter how much time it demanded.
After several cycles of breathing, qi circulating like rivers through his body, he slowly opened his eyes. His aura was steady, firm, unshaken.
By then, Maria had stirred awake. She sat quietly by the bedding, her face turned away. Her shoulders stiffened, her eyes flitting everywhere but at him. The memory of what she had done earlier clearly weighed on her, embarrassment burning her ears red.
Jian caught the look and couldn't resist. A low chuckle slipped past his lips, which quickly grew into full laughter.
Maria instantly hid her face in her hands, her cheeks glowing crimson.
"Haha… that look on your face—priceless." Jian wiped the corner of his eye, still grinning.
"Stop laughing," she muttered into her palms, her voice muffled, more flustered than angry.
"It's fine," Jian said, his tone softening as his smile curved into something genuine. "If it makes you feel any better—I enjoyed every bit of it. In fact, I like the boldness you show in that state."
Maria peeked at him between her fingers, still flushed but clearly relieved at his words.
"But," Jian continued, his voice firm now, "you'll need to learn how to control it." He flicked his wrist and tossed the parchment he had scribed earlier onto her lap. "Follow me."
She nodded timidly, her heart still thumping, and together they entered the cultivation chamber.
Jian guided her step by step, correcting her posture, showing her how to circulate energy without resistance.
Maria soon sat cross-legged in a lotus position on top the slab in the cultivation chamber, with the paper spread across her lap. She closed her eyes, reading the incantation inwardly, trying to carve each line into her memory.
But after several attempts, she frowned. Her mind could only cling to the first two sentences, the rest slipping away like sand through her fingers, blurring into nothingness no matter how hard she tried.
Jian wasn't surprised. Techniques were not just words. They were the distilled essence of cultivation, rules of heaven and earth compressed into scripture. As such, they resisted comprehension from the unworthy or the unprepared.
He watched her try again, sweat beading on her brow. "Don't force it," Jian said at last, his voice calm but instructive. "If you push too hard, the backlash will scatter your spirit. Techniques reveal themselves only when the mind is steady enough to bear them."
Jian then sat across from her, legs folded into a lotus position, and gently took her hands into his. Meeting her eyes for a moment, he began to chant the technique line by line, his calm voice steady as flowing water.
Maria followed along, repeating every syllable. At first, the words slipped away from her no matter how she tried to hold on, but with Jian's voice serving as an anchor, her mind slowly grasped them. His tone carved clarity into her thoughts, guiding her like a lantern in fog.
Again and again they recited, their voices merging into rhythm. Countless tries passed before the resistance began to crack. Slowly, Maria found herself remembering more than just the first two lines—each verse fell into place, lodging in her memory.
If Jian's cultivation had been higher, this process would have been much simpler. He could have employed the same technique Yun Ji once used, directly imprinting the scripture into his mind, sparing her the grueling repetition. But at his current stage, that was impossible.
So they persisted the hard way.
Hours passed within the chamber, time marked only by their breaths and the faint hum of the formation that gathered qi around them. At last, Maria's lips moved on their own, whispering the scripture without hesitation. She had fully assimilated it.
Almost immediately, her body began to respond. Spiritual energy in the chamber stirred faintly, threads of qi coiling toward her, drawn as if by unseen gravity. Her physique resonated, absorbing the energy with newfound ease.
Watching the faint glow that now outlined her form, Jian exhaled slowly. She was ready. Without a sound, he released her hands and rose to his feet, leaving her undisturbed in meditati
on. Quietly, he slipped out of the cultivation chamber, a faint smile tugging at his lips.