Tens of thousands of miles away.
Tiandang Mountain.
The mountain range stretched for a hundred miles, its main peak vanishing above the Cloud Sea.
The morning mist was so thick it seemed impossible to dispel, wrapping the entire mountain in a gray-white veil.
Above the mountainside, ancient trees towered into the sky, their branches and leaves so dense that barely a sliver of sunlight filtered through.
Higher up, the trees grew sparse, giving way to jagged rocks and winding streams. The water was icy and crystal clear, and little fish of unknown species swam close to the stony bed.
The summit of the main peak.
Taixu Temple.
It was no grand complex of buildings.
There were three Stone Halls, a Bell Tower, and a flagstone path winding from the mountain gate to the Alchemy Room in the rear courtyard.
The temple walls were mottled, moss grew between the roof tiles, and centuries of wind and rain had worn the edges of the stone steps smooth.
But the spiritual energy was so dense that ordinary cultivators would never have dared imagine such a thing.
With every breath, it felt as if one's internal organs were being washed clean.
The spiritual energy of heaven and earth converged here from every direction. It neither dispersed nor escaped, held within a hundred-zhang radius by some invisible force.
Deep in the rear mountain.
A Stone Chamber.
Its door had been carved from a single block of blue rock, three feet thick, its surface covered in intricate Daoist markings.
The markings were ancient, some already blurred, but the parts that remained still slowly circulated with a faint purple glow, completely sealing the Stone Chamber off from the outside world.
Inside the Stone Chamber.
Shen Yichen sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion.
White robes.
Immaculately white, without a speck of dust or stain. From collar to sleeve, not a single wrinkle marred them.
His hair was tied atop his head and held in place by a plain white jade hairpin, with a few loose strands falling at his temples.
His features were refined, their lines clean but not severe.
His complexion was fair, his jaw sharply defined.
His eyes were closed. His breathing was long and steady, his chest barely rising.
He sat there in perfect stillness. Not a trace of Soul Power escaped him, nor did any spiritual light Entanglement coil around him—but the dense spiritual energy of heaven and earth, so thick it was almost liquid, all revolved around his body.
He wasn't absorbing the spiritual energy. The spiritual energy itself was submitting to him.
"Heh heh heh~ heh heh~"
On the mountain path outside the Stone Chamber.
An eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl carried a wooden bucket as she climbed the flagstone steps.
Her steps were light. She hummed an off-key tune, and the water in the bucket sloshed with every step, splashing a couple of drops onto the stone stairs.
Ye Lingling.
The only maid at Taixu Temple.
A successor of the Nine-Heart Begonia lineage.
Though calling her a successor was a bit much. She was only a thirty-second-level Soul Elder, not even enough to make a ripple in the Soul Master world outside.
But the Nine-Heart Begonia bloodline in her body naturally leaned toward healing and nourishment. She was much better suited than an ordinary person to chores like cleaning the Seclusion Chamber, maintaining the formation markings, and tending to spiritual herbs.
Her ancestors had once received a great kindness from the Celestial Master.
That had happened over a hundred years ago.
Her great-grandmother had been hunted down and fled to Tiandang Mountain. She was on the verge of death when the Celestial Master casually saved her—and wiped out the people pursuing her while he was at it.
From then on, the Ye family had stayed at Taixu Temple. The first generation had served for thirty years, the second for forty, and Ye Lingling was the third.
Three generations had guarded an empty mountain and served a tightly shut stone door.
"Heh heh heh~"
Her tune broke off halfway through.
Ye Lingling stopped in front of the Seclusion Chamber's stone door, set the bucket down, and shook out her aching, numb wrist.
She came to wipe this door every day. The Daoist markings had to be regularly soaked with spiritual spring water, or they would gradually grow dim.
She had been doing this since she was thirteen. Five whole years, without missing a day.
She crouched, fished a rag out of the bucket, and wrung it out. Just as she was about to wipe the door—
Her hand stopped.
The Daoist markings had gone dark.
The faint purple lines that had slowly flowed across the door for over a hundred years dimmed one after another before her eyes.
Silently, they went out in sequence from top to bottom.
The instant the last marking vanished, the three-foot-thick stone door gave a soft click.
A crack.
The door had opened a sliver.
Ye Lingling froze.
The rag was still clutched in her hand. Water trickled through her fingers, drop by drop onto the stone steps.
Five years.
She had stood in front of this door for five years. Before her grandmother died, she had told her, "The Celestial Master will emerge from seclusion one day. You must wait patiently."
Only when that day came would the Ye family's debt of gratitude truly be repaid.
She had waited all this time.
Sometimes, she thought that day would never come.
Now the door had opened.
Ye Lingling's hands trembled.
She tossed the rag into the bucket, raised a hand to straighten the stray hairs over her forehead, then glanced down at her clothes—a faded blue cotton dress.
There was no time to change.
She wiped her hands on her skirt, then gently pushed the stone door open.
The Stone Chamber was dim. A thin shaft of daylight fell through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.
A man sat on the meditation cushion.
White robes, a jade hairpin, refined features.
He had his eyes open and was looking at her.
His gaze was unnervingly calm. There was no daze from a century of seclusion, no wariness at seeing a stranger for the first time.
He simply looked at her, composed and unhurried, with a hint of warmth.
Ye Lingling's knees gave way. She dropped to the ground with a thud.
Her skirt caught the wooden bucket and knocked it over. Water spilled out and ran down the stone steps.
"Ce... Celestial Master!"
Her voice shook, and she could barely get the words out.
"You've finally emerged from seclusion?"
Shen Yichen didn't move. He remained in the same pose, one leg resting over the other, a hand on his knee.
His gaze swept over her face, then did so again.
"Get up."
Three words, spoken in a cool voice with a languid, just-woken-up drawl.
Ye Lingling got shakily to her feet, not daring to raise her head. She stared at the tips of her shoes.
The overturned bucket was still spilling water beside her foot, soaking part of her skirt.
"Your name is Ye Lingling, right?"
She jerked her head up.
Shen Yichen tilted his head, studying her with utter nonchalance—chin resting on the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded.
"When you were born, your mother brought you to see me."
Ye Lingling's mind went blank.
The Celestial Master remembered her name.
The Celestial Master had been in seclusion for a hundred years, and he remembered her?
Her nose stung, and tears nearly welled up.
She bit her lower lip hard, swallowing the ache.
"Celestial Master... You still remember..."
Shen Yichen gave a quiet "Mm."
A very short syllable, its tail drawn out slightly.
He turned his head, his gaze lingering on her for two breaths.
Thirty-second level, Soul Elder. Her Nine-Heart Begonia bloodline was pure enough, but she had far too few cultivation resources, and her foundation was terribly unstable.
Three points in her spiritual meridians were blocked. No one had helped clear them in years, and it had already slowed the circulation of her Soul Power.
No wonder her cultivation had been so slow all these years.
Shen Yichen said nothing. He reached into his robe with his right hand and took something from the inside of his collar.
A White Jade Pendant.
Small, about two finger joints wide.
The jade was clear and warm, with faint traces of light slowly flowing within it.
It had no ornate carvings, only a ring of extremely fine markings along the edge, so subtle they were impossible to notice without looking closely.
He flicked his fingers. The White Jade Pendant traced an arc through the air and flew straight toward Ye Lingling.
"Just a little trinket. It's yours."
Before you continue