Shi Yang sat upon the ledge for what felt like an eternity, the wind brushing across his bare chest, carrying with it the scents of incense, sweat, and distant cooking fires. Beneath the masquerade of laughter and chatter, he could feel the city breathing—like a beast that wore human skin, waiting for fools and heroes alike to step inside its maw.
Finally, he exhaled, pulling himself back into the room. Han Jie's silhouette was faint through the misted steam curling from the lotus cauldron. Her voice floated lightly over the sound of water.
"Finished stargazing, Brother Shi?"
He smirked faintly, but did not answer. Instead, he pulled on his robes, tying the sash with firm hands. "I'll be heading out for a bit," he said, tone casual, though his pulse thrummed with anticipation.
Han Jie's laugh rang from behind the screen, soft and teasing. "Mm. Don't get yourself killed. I'd hate to find out my partner is already a ghost after one night."
Shi Yang said nothing more. He stepped to the window, the wooden floor cool beneath his feet, and without hesitation vaulted outward.
The night air swallowed him whole. His body arced in freefall, robes snapping in the wind, then his feet touched lightly upon the next rooftop. Momentum carried him forward—he leapt, soared, and landed again, moving from tile to tile with the grace of an agile predator. The city stretched beneath him, lantern-lit veins winding through its streets.
And then something caught his eye.
A flicker of pale yellow, glowing faintly as it drifted through the night breeze. A sheet of paper, enchanted with the faintest trace of qi, tumbling between rooftops. Shi Yang reached out mid-leap, fingers snatching the flier from the wind before his feet touched down again.
Unfolding it beneath the starlight, his eyes scanned the ink.
"By decree of the City Lord—A Grand Tournament shall be held. All cultivators, local or foreign, are free to enter."
First Prize: an Earthly Treasure, a tool born of heaven and earth itself, bonded to its master until death.
Second & Third Prize: an official position under the City Lord's banner, authority and backing in the western territories.
Fourth Prize: silver taels, cultivation pills, and minor treasures.
Shi Yang's heart pounded. Even third place would be worth blood. But it was the Earthly Treasure that stirred a hunger deep within him.
His memories told him more than the flier did.
This world's Shi Yang had seen cultivators wield such artifacts: some nurtured cultivation like hidden springs, others unleashed fiery wrath or raised unyielding walls. There were treasures that made one swifter, stealthier, sharper—each bonded until death, never stolen once claimed.
He turned the flier over—and his eyes sharpened.
On the back was a list—twenty items, scrawled neatly. At first glance, it seemed like scattered curiosities: Moonlit Orchid Petals, Ashen Bone Fragments, Crimson Serpent's Fang, and stranger things still. Yet the more he read, the more unease coiled in his gut.
Phoenix-Tail Feather (Charred) – blackened remnants of a sacred bird's plume.Celestial Salt Crystals – dried tears of cultivators who died in meditation.Mandrake Whisper Root – which screams faintly when pulled from the ground.
Not random. Not at all.
His predecessor's fractured memories stirred uneasily. These weren't mere curiosities—they were ingredients. A recipe hidden in plain sight. And the proof lay at the bottom:
"Once five listed items have been acquired, deliver it directly to the City Lord's office for registration."
Shi Yang crouched low on the rooftop, parchment rustling in his grip.
A tournament baiting cultivators with treasures… but first demanding materials that reeked of blood, grave soil, and suffering? What was the City Lord concocting behind this farce?
For a heartbeat, suspicion coiled around him. Then his lips curved into a faint, hungry smile.
"No matter what game the City Lord is playing," he murmured, "if it leads me closer to power, then I'll play along."
He tucked the flier into his sleeve, eyes fixed on the distant glow of the City Lord's manor rising above the rooftops.
The path was clear. The hunt had begun.
His feet rattled rooftops as he speared through the wind, retracting his steps. "I wonder if Han Jie's interested in this," he murmured, heading back to the White Lotus Pavilion.
Shi Yang's mind was focused on the list of items. "If we worked together or found a group, I'm sure we could find a few of the less rare ingredients."
The streets flew by, and sooner than he had left, he returned to his windowsill.
Shi Yang slipped back through the window, landing silently on the polished wood.
Inside, the chamber was filled with the soft fragrance of herbs and steam. Han Jie sat upon a low stool, her long hair damp and spilling down her back in dark, glossy strands. A towel was wrapped snugly across her chest, the curve of her shoulders gleaming faintly in the candlelight as she slowly dried her hair with deliberate strokes.
Her eyes flicked up at him the moment he entered. The corner of her lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "Back so soon?" she asked, voice lilting with amusement.
"Were you thinking I'd vanish into the night, leaving my new daoist partner alone?"
Shi Yang smirked faintly, sliding the window shut behind him. "If anything, I feel like I missed out on watching your breathtaking silhouette emerging from the bath," he said, keeping his tone casual. His sleeve shifted slightly as he tucked the flier deeper within it. "But... I found something worth sharing, whilst I was out."
Han Jie arched a brow, tilting her head as she wrung the water from her hair. Droplets fell, darkening the towel clinging to her chest. "Hmm?"
Shi Yang hesitated only a breath before stepping closer, lowering his voice. "The City Lord is holding a tournament. Not a simple one either. They have quite a few gifts worth fighting for. An undisclosed Earthly Treasure, two positions of power, silver, and pills as prizes."
Han Jie's hands stilled for a moment, then continued running the towel through her hair. Her eyes glimmered with interest, sharp despite her relaxed posture. "Mm. Now you have my attention. But such bait surely needs a hook."
Shi Yang smirked. "Naturally. There's a list. Twenty items, rare ingredients. They're demanding them as proof of entry."
"Ingredients?" she repeated, brows furrowing slightly as her towel stilled again.
He nodded, his expression darkening. "Not valuables. Things like charred phoenix feathers, salt crystals formed from dead cultivators' tears, roots that scream when pulled from the earth."
For a heartbeat, silence hung between them. Then Han Jie laughed softly, almost too soft, the sound like water running over stone. "A recipe then. For what, I wonder…"
Shi Yang's smirk deepened, though his eyes stayed sharp. "That's what I intend to find out. But either way… there's something for us at the end of this road. Whether one of us makes it into the top three."
Han Jie leaned back slightly on the stool, her hair tumbling freely now, towel slipping just enough to tease. Her gaze settled on him—steady, assessing, and faintly hungry. "So, Brother Shi, are you suggesting what I think you are?"
He stepped closer, the parchment warm against his arm. "If we work together, we can claim at least some of the less rare ingredients. Gain entry into the tournament, and potentially seize a chance at opportunity."
The towel slipped lower, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Then it seems Heaven truly hasn't abandoned me."
She rose slowly from the stool, damp hair cascading down her back, her figure framed in the steam. "Show me this list."