On the fourth morning, Jiang Muchen pushed open the door.
Sunlight flooded in—too bright at first.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes. His left shoulder moved freely now, the scab itching faintly.
It was the itch of flesh knitting itself back together.
In the courtyard, all three heads snapped up at once.
"Brother Jiang!"
Wang Duobao nearly dropped the bundle in his hands.
Jiang Muchen nodded and sat down at the stone table.
Everything had already been laid out:
rations wrapped neatly in oil paper, water skins lined up in a row, porcelain bottles of medicine carefully labeled.
"All set?" he asked.
"Three full kits, just like you said," Lu Hanshan replied, handing over a piece of sheepskin.
"Each of us also has ten transmission talismans—Senior Brother Liu Zhen sent them last night. Said they were 'inner-sect benefits.'"
The talismans were pale yellow, brushed with simple cloud patterns in cinnabar. Cheap things, really.
But in a secret realm, they were lifelines.
The courtyard gate creaked open.
Shi Gang strode in, hauling a wooden chest nearly as tall as a man. He dropped it with a heavy thud that made the stone slabs shudder.
"You're moving again?" he said, eyeing Jiang Muchen.
"Color's decent. Looks like Liu Ruyan didn't botch the job."
Jiang Muchen rose to greet him, but Shi Gang shoved him back down.
"Save the formalities."
He flipped the lid open. "Try this."
Inside lay a suit of jet-black leather armor.
Hundreds of dark scales were stitched together, drinking in the morning light with a muted sheen. It looked heavy—but when Jiang lifted it, it was astonishingly light.
"Black Python Armor," Shi Gang said, snapping it open.
"Spent seven days last year in the Mistwood Forest to kill a near-spirit python. The hide soaked in herbal solution for half a year, then refined over earthfire for forty-nine days."
He grinned.
"A full-strength strike from a Qi Refinement sixth layer cultivator—this sheds seventy percent of the force."
Jiang Muchen ran his hand across it.
The scales were sewn with a silver alloy thread; black iron plates reinforced the chest and back, while the joints were left flexible.
"This is too valuable."
Shi Gang raised an eyebrow.
"You wearing it or not? If not, I'll take it back and cut it into shoe insoles."
Jiang Muchen stopped arguing.
He shrugged off his outer robe.
The armor fit him perfectly—almost unsettlingly so. The shoulder piece supported his still-healing wound, and when the waist cinched tight, his posture straightened instinctively.
"That's more like it," Shi Gang laughed.
"By the way—your flute."
Jiang Muchen took out the jade flute.
Under the sun, cracks webbed across its entire body. The faint dark-gold glow within flickered weakly, like a candle in the wind.
"Maybe one more time," Jiang said softly.
Shi Gang stared at it for a long while before speaking.
"You really want to fix it?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll need Cold Jade Marrow and Spirit-Warming Wood," Shi Gang said.
"Treasures locked away by the Ice Palace and the Ten Thousand Beast Valley. Ordinary disciples won't even hear their names."
He paused.
"But the trial realm…"
"There might be clues."
The secret realm again.
Jiang Muchen put the flute away. The cracks pressed cold against his chest, like a countdown ticking away.
Pill Cauldron Peak's medicinal gardens were wrapped in morning mist.
With the guest token, Jiang passed two layers of restriction and stepped into lush greenery. The air was thick with layered scents—sweet, bitter, sharp—each whispering its own medicinal nature.
Following the Illustrated Compendium of Herbs, he harvested blood-activating grass and meridian-opening blossoms, then crouched to dig up a thumb-thick earth-dragon root.
"Junior Brother Jiang."
Liu Ruyan's voice came from the far end of the field.
She wasn't wearing a dress today, but fitted clothes and boots, a bamboo basket of dewgrass in her hand.
"Senior Sister."
She glanced at his harvest.
"Meridian-restoring pills?"
"Yes. My channels still need gentle nourishment."
"You memorized the formula after seeing it once?"
A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes. "Come."
She led him to a small tiled house deep in the garden.
Heat rushed out as she opened the door. At the center stood a bronze cauldron, earthfire roaring beneath it, runes glowing faintly along its body.
"Watch carefully."
She washed her hands, lit incense, and began.
Her movements were seamless: blood grass first, earth-dragon root next, and the blossoms at precisely the hottest moment. One hand controlled the flame, the other shaped seals—the fire obeyed her will with terrifying precision.
Half an incense stick later, the cauldron trembled.
Twelve streams of pale red light burst out, arcing neatly into a jade tray.
Each pill was smooth and perfect, three pill marks etched clearly on the surface.
"Top-grade Meridian Restoration Pills," Liu Ruyan said, pushing the bottle toward him.
"Thirty percent stronger, half the side effects."
Jiang Muchen closed his fingers around the warm jade.
"Senior Sister… this favor—"
"This isn't a favor," she interrupted. "It's a trade."
She met his eyes.
"You have talent. You copied seventy percent of my technique after one viewing. Pill Cauldron Peak hasn't seen insight like that in ten years."
He said nothing.
"I know what you're thinking," she continued lightly.
"Smithing. Sound arts. Mechanisms. Body refinement. Now alchemy too. Too much, too scattered."
She opened the window. The mist outside was thinning, revealing layered mountains beyond.
"But cultivation was never meant to be a single road," she said quietly.
"Pills save lives. Artifacts protect you. Sound attacks the heart. Traps decide battles."
She turned back, gaze sharp.
"Every skill you add is one more reason you might survive."
After a pause, she spoke again.
"When you return from the secret realm—if you return—come to Pill Cauldron Peak. I'll introduce you to my master."
"A fourth-rank alchemist," she said.
"There are fewer than ten in the entire southern domain."
Jiang Muchen's breath caught.
"What's the price?"
She produced a scroll and unrolled it.
A lotus bloomed on the page—seven colors shifting across its petals, roots half red, half blue, growing at the boundary of ice and fire.
"Seven-Colored Lotus," she said.
"It grows where the Lava Lake meets the Ice Ruins. The area is guarded by Flame-Ice Beasts—at least seventh layer."
She rolled the scroll back up.
"Bring it back, and it's your initiation gift."
"If you don't…"
She didn't finish.
"I will," Jiang Muchen said, bowing.
"I'll bring it back alive."
"Not 'try,'" Liu Ruyan said evenly.
"You must come back alive. Dead people bring nothing."
By dusk, Jiang Muchen visited the Hundred-Knowledge Pavilion.
The old shopkeeper adjusted his crystal spectacles.
"Five hundred spirit stones."
Jiang placed five heavy pouches on the counter.
The man chuckled when he finally looked up.
"Black Python Armor. Pill Cauldron guest token… not bad, kid."
He unrolled a beast-hide map.
It was terrifyingly detailed—terrain, beasts, materials, danger zones, even suspected ruins circled in red.
"Three hundred steps east of the Lava Lake is an undercurrent leading to the Ice Ruins.
Seven-Colored Lotus grows on the north cliff of the central island—three Flame-Ice Beasts confirmed."
His finger tapped the center.
"The core area? No one's come back from there."
As Jiang memorized everything, the man added casually:
"Oh. Someone asked me to pass on a message."
"Speak."
"The three from Azure Nether Sword Sect—Zhao Wuji and his juniors—are entering through the same teleport point tomorrow."
He pushed his glasses up.
"Their task is simple. Make sure you don't come out."
The air went still.
"Who sent the message?" Jiang asked.
"Can't say," the old man replied, already looking back at his jade slip.
"Message delivered."
At the door, Jiang paused.
"Why help me?"
The old man glanced over his lenses.
"I was like you once. Wanted to cultivate everything. Master nothing."
He snorted softly.
"Funny thing is—people like us tend to be the ones who live."
Night fell over the menial courtyard.
Wang Duobao handed over an iron box from Chen Song. Inside lay three Purple Thunder Talismans, lightning patterns almost black with density.
"Senior Brother Chen said…" Wang swallowed.
"They can kill a seventh-layer cultivator."
Lu Hanshan passed him Su Qingwu's note.
Two lines only:
At dawn, enter with the team. If danger arises, crush the jade. I'll know where you are.
—Su
Jiang Muchen packed everything.
Armor on.
Staff at his waist.
Ink-jade sword on his back.
Pills, talismans, jade token close to the body.
Last, the map—studied until it burned into memory.
"I enter the realm tomorrow," he said quietly.
"You stay behind."
"If I don't return in a month—"
"Brother Jiang!" Zhou Xiaohuan's eyes reddened.
Jiang only smiled.
Back in his room, he closed the door.
He took out the jade flute.
The dark-gold light was barely visible now.
"One last stretch," he whispered.
The flute trembled.
Then the light flared—
not flickering, but burning.
The room was filled with gold.
And then—
Nothing.
No explosion. No sound.
The flute dissolved silently into a handful of dark-gold dust, slipping through his fingers and scattering across the floor.
Jiang Muchen stared at his empty hand.
Something hollow opened in his chest.
Carefully, he gathered the dust into a cloth pouch. It was still warm—carrying the final breath of the Dragon Soul.
He sealed it and tucked it away.
Then he drew his sword.
Cold steel. Warm grip.
He rested it across his knees and closed his eyes.
The flute was gone.
But the road remained.
Tomorrow, the devouring secret realm would open.
Inside waited lotus and jade, enemies and death—
—and a chance to live.
Jiang Muchen opened his eyes.
Then he rose.
Time to walk his own path.
Lick Dao Maxim · Fiftieth
The true road isn't paved by others.
It's carved out step by step through thorns—
and when you look back, those crooked, blood-stained footprints are what you call your Dao.