The Starlit Trial, with its radiant orbs and piercing celestial judgment, had left Li Wei with a fortified spirit, his belief in the Dao strengthened despite the toll on his frail body. The hidden valley, with its shimmering pool, ancient tree, and glowing blossoms, pulsed with an energy that seemed to affirm the warmth in his dantian—a warmth he believed was his nascent Golden Core, nurturing a fledgling Nascent Soul. Azure Dragon, his scruffy spirit beast, remained a loyal companion, curled by the stone altar as Li Wei pored over the scroll, its worn bamboo slats a sacred guide through his trials. The scroll's latest passage unveiled a transcendent new challenge: "The Celestial Chorus, where the cultivator joins the voices of the heavens, their qi harmonizing with the eternal song of the Dao."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had devoured in Beijing, celestial choruses were divine symphonies—harmonies of spiritual energy that connected cultivators to the cosmos, amplifying their qi or revealing cosmic truths. The scroll's description was more poetic but equally compelling: "Listen to the heavens' song, let the soul's qi join its melody, and sing with the Dao's eternal voice. Purity binds the chorus, but discord silences the spirit." Li Wei, tempered by lightning, betrayal, and moments of clarity, felt a surge of awe. The valley's whispers, ever-present in his meditations, had grown more melodic, forming what he believed were voices of ancient cultivators or celestial spirits. Could this be the chorus? His body, ravaged by hunger, fever, and the throbbing infections in his hand and arm, ached with every movement, but the valley's mystical aura and the scroll's promise fueled his determination.
Li Wei prepared with the reverence of a bard joining a divine choir. He reinforced his altar with smooth stones, their surfaces carved with star-like patterns inspired by the Starstone to channel the valley's qi. He placed the scroll, jade slip, Starstone, and stolen booklet at the altar's center, surrounded by the ancient tree's glowing blossoms, their light pulsing like notes in a celestial melody. Azure Dragon watched, head tilted, as Li Wei sipped the valley's crystal-clear water, its coolness a fleeting relief against his persistent fever. The scroll suggested a meditative trance to "join the chorus," so he chose a clear night, when the valley's sky was a tapestry of stars and its whispers sang most vividly, to begin.
As midnight cloaked the valley in starlight, Li Wei sat by the altar, the Starstone in one hand, the jade slip pressed to his chest. He chanted the scroll's incantations, their rhythmic tones blending with the valley's whispers, which seemed to form a haunting melody, rising and falling like a celestial song. He focused on his dantian, visualizing his Golden Core as a radiant star, his Nascent Soul a glowing figure ready to sing with the heavens. The scroll urged him to "harmonize with the Dao," so he listened intently, letting the valley's whispers guide his voice. The warmth in his dantian pulsed, and he began to hum, his voice weaving into the melody, as if joining an unseen choir.
Hours passed, his body trembling from the strain, his fever intensifying, the pain in his infected wounds throbbing with each heartbeat. The valley's whispers grew louder, forming distinct voices—ancient, resonant, singing of eternity. In his trance, the valley faded, replaced by a starry expanse where glowing figures danced, their voices a chorus of light and sound. His Nascent Soul joined them, singing with a melody that felt like the Dao itself, each note amplifying his qi. A voice, resonant and commanding, echoed: "Is your song pure?" Li Wei's heart raced, doubts flickering—the scroll's jest, the betrayals, his frail body—but he sang louder, his voice hoarse but resolute, his qi surging in harmony. The figures glowed brighter, but his body faltered, the fever spiking as dizziness gripped him. He collapsed by the altar, gasping, Azure Dragon whining and nudging his face.
The Starstone felt warmer, as if infused with the chorus's melody, and the warmth in his dantian pulsed stronger, clearer, as if the song had refined his qi. Had he truly joined the Celestial Chorus, or was it another fevered vision? The scroll promised harmony but warned of discord, and Li Wei chose to believe he'd passed the test, even at a cost. He scribbled in his notebook, hands trembling: "Celestial Chorus joined. Qi sings, soul harmonizes. Body falters, melody endures." The valley's whispers seemed to approve, their murmurs blending with the starlight, the ancient tree's blossoms glowing brighter.
During the next video call with the Order of the Jade Dawn, Li Wei shared the experience, describing the glowing figures and their celestial song. Zhang Wei, eyes wide, called it a "divine symphony," urging him to brew an elixir with the valley's water to solidify the harmony. Liu Mei, her serene face lit by moonlight, praised his connection but insisted he seek medical care: "The chorus lifts the soul, but the body must endure." Chen Xiu saw it as proof of ascension, while Zhao Feng, skeptical, suggested it was delirium, sparking a heated debate that tested Li Wei's leadership. He hid his worsening fever and the throbbing pain in his wounds, fearing their concern might fracture the sect's unity.
As dawn broke, Li Wei sat by the pool, the Starstone warm in his hands, Azure Dragon snoring softly. The scroll promised that the Celestial Chorus bound the soul to the Dao, but also warned of greater trials. The valley's energy, his sect's support, and the scroll's guidance bolstered him, even as his body weakened. With his Golden Core and Nascent Soul pulsing as beacons, Li Wei felt ready to face the next challenge, his spirit singing with the heavens, one melodic note at a time toward immortality.