A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt the first tendrils of Qi weave through her meridians. Anastasia, barely seventeen, stood within the tranquil Moonflower Pavilion, the scent of blooming jasmine heavy in the air. Her appearance was striking – a delicate oval face framed by long, raven hair that cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall. Her eyes, a deep violet hue rarely seen even amongst cultivators, held a quiet intensity, reflecting both youthful innocence and a nascent power.
She was considered exceptionally beautiful, even within the elite Azure Cloud Sect. Her features were finely sculpted; a slender nose, full lips often curved into a thoughtful expression, and skin as pale and flawless as moonlight on snow. She typically wore simple, flowing robes of sky blue silk, embroidered with silver cloud patterns – attire befitting her status as a promising disciple.
Anastasia's cultivation was formidable. She was a Celestial Weaver, capable of manipulating the very fabric of reality with threads of starlight. Her power pulsed beneath her skin, a warm hum that resonated with the rhythm of the cosmos. She had walked countless paths, mastered forgotten techniques, and witnessed the rise and fall of empires. Though she appeared outwardly serene, a quiet determination burned within her – a relentless pursuit of understanding and mastery. Currently, she hovered at the peak of the Golden Core realm, on the precipice of ascending to the Nascent Soul stage—a monumental leap that would reshape her abilities and responsibilities. A faint golden glow emanated from her fingertips as she subtly tested the flow of spiritual energy within her, a silent affirmation of her strength.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Anastasia's face, a barely perceptible tightening of her lips. The sensation of testing her Qi was… tedious. She found the meticulous focus required for cultivation tiresome, a necessary evil in this mortal realm. It was a far cry from the effortless creation she remembered from her previous lives, when shaping reality was as simple as a thought.
She sighed, the sound like the rustling of silk.
"Such painstaking effort," she murmured, her voice a low, melodious hum that seemed to vibrate with an ancient power.
"To ascend requires such… restraint." Her fingers stilled, the golden glow fading as she dismissed the exercise. She preferred to spend her time immersed in ancient texts, deciphering forgotten languages, or simply observing the world around her – activities that offered far more stimulation than endless Qi refinement.
A delicate frown creased Anastasia's brow as she surveyed the familiar landscape from the window. The Azure Cloud Sect, nestled amidst towering jade peaks and cascading waterfalls, was undeniably beautiful. Generations of cultivators had honed their skills within these hallowed grounds, their energies woven into the very fabric of the land. Yet, to Anastasia, it felt…stifling.
She meticulously folded the silk robes she'd been wearing for cultivation, placing them neatly on a nearby table. With a practiced ease born of countless lifetimes, she reached into her wardrobe and selected a more practical ensemble: dark grey leggings and a simple black hoodie. The outfit was unassuming, designed to blend in rather than draw attention – a deliberate choice reflecting her desire for anonymity.
As she pulled the hood over her head, partially obscuring her face, a wave of weariness washed over her.
Anastasia's fingers traced the cool, smooth surface of the silver hairpin, a subconscious gesture revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath her stoic facade. The relic, shaped like a coiled dragon with emerald eyes, felt strangely warm against her scalp – a subtle hum of ancient magic resonating with her own divine essence.
A faint smile touched her lips, a fleeting echo of memories long past. The Empress…a name lost to the mists of time. China…a land she'd wandered through countless lifetimes ago, experiencing joys and sorrows that now felt like distant dreams. It was difficult to reconcile the carefree girl she'd been then—receiving such a lavish gift—with the burdened goddess she was now.
The weight of millennia settled upon her shoulders, a familiar ache that never truly faded. She pushed the thought away, focusing on the present moment.
The sound of Luke's voice, high and clear, cut through Anastasia's reverie. She turned, her violet eyes focusing on the small boy standing in the doorway. Luke, all of seven years old, with a mop of unruly brown hair and wide, earnest eyes, radiated an innocent joy that was both disarming and…irritating.
She had taken him in years ago, a tiny bundle abandoned within the foster care system. At the time, she'd been barely more than a child herself – a mere ten years old in this mortal guise. A surge of protectiveness, an emotion she rarely allowed herself to feel, stirred within her. It was a remnant of her past lives countless instances where she'd found herself drawn to those who were vulnerable and helpless.
Anastasia regarded him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
A flicker of amusement danced in Anastasia's eyes as Luke protested, his small face scrunched up in a pout. She found his indignation endearing, a stark contrast to the calculated manipulations she often encountered in her dealings with others.
"Russia will provide you with invaluable skills, Luke," she said, her voice devoid of emotion despite the warmth she felt towards the boy.
"Hacking is a valuable asset in the modern world." She hoisted her suitcase, a sleek black leather affair that contained only the bare essentials – a few changes of clothes, some personal artifacts, and a collection of ancient scrolls.
Luke's retort about Senior Brother Benny earned another subtle smile. Anastasia had cultivated a network of contacts and allies throughout the world, each serving a specific purpose. Benny was one such individual – a charismatic and skilled hacker who operated within the shadows.
"And when I was three," Anastasia continued, her voice taking on a detached, almost clinical tone,
"They sent me to the Amazon Jungle." She allowed a brief pause, letting the absurdity of the statement sink in. "Survival training. Intensive combat exercises. Linguistic immersion with several indigenous tribes."
She watched Luke's expression shift from indignation to stunned silence. It was a familiar reaction. Most people struggled to comprehend the sheer breadth of her experiences, the countless lifetimes she'd lived. He simply stared, his mouth slightly agape, clearly conceding defeat in their little argument.
Anastasia offered a curt nod.
"Prepare yourself for Russia, Luke. It will be…educational." With that, she turned and headed towards the door, leaving the bewildered boy standing alone in the room.