"Dao of Heaven, please bless my son and let him recover soon."
"Dao of Heaven above, my family is about to arrange a marriage for me. I ask for nothing else, only that he be upright in character and appearance, with only me in his heart..."
Perhaps because cultivators had such sharp ears and eyes, Song Zhizhi stood by the river yet clearly heard the prayers within a ten-meter radius.
This was a Cultivation World without myths or legends. The people here did not worship gods, but the Dao of Heaven, and they were far more devout than ordinary believers.
Song Zhizhi bent slightly and set the lotus-shaped river lantern in her hand onto the water. The current carried it rushing away. She watched it for a while, then thought, If the Dao of Heaven can truly hear me, could it send me back to the twenty-first century?
To Song Zhizhi, this world was utterly unfamiliar and devoid of any sense of security. She missed twenty-first-century Earth, with its good public safety and convenient, efficient life.
A gust of wind swept by, and Song Zhizhi saw that her river lantern—had gone out.
Song Zhizhi: ...
Refusing to believe it, she ran back to buy several more river lanterns. Then she found a secluded spot, lit one with spiritual power, and set it afloat. "I want to return to Earth."
—It went out.
She set down another. "I want to transmigrate again."
—It went out.
"Things never happen more than three times. Fine, I want to get rich overnight!"
—It went out.
Song Zhizhi gritted her teeth. Since every lantern went out the moment she set it down, she might as well make an even more outrageous wish. She released the last lantern in her hand. "I want to become the strongest woman in this Cultivation World!"
The lantern flickered. Sure enough, it went out ag—"Hm?"
Song Zhizhi blinked. She saw the flame at the heart of the lantern she had just released flicker, its candlelight swaying from side to side in the river. It was on the verge of dwindling to a faint flame no larger than a mung bean when another gust of wind blew past. Yet that weak candle flame struggled and swayed in the wind, stubbornly continuing to cast its faint light over the pitch-black river surface before gradually drifting farther away.
Song Zhizhi: "...What does that mean?"
This was absurd, okay? Why had the lantern gone out when she wished to return to Earth, yet stayed lit for this wish? Becoming the strongest in the Cultivation World had to be even less likely than transmigrating again, right?
Song Zhizhi did have some self-awareness. She feared death, and feared pain even more. She was timid and useless—completely not cut out to become the strongest in the Cultivation World.
"Forget it. These river lanterns aren't spiritual at all. I'm done setting them afloat. I should go back and cultivate." Song Zhizhi stood and rubbed her numb calves, intending to return the way she came. Suddenly, she heard an ethereal, hollow voice rise from the center of the moat.
"You've finally returned."
"We've waited for you for so long."
"Finally... we waited until now."
Song Zhizhi halted, scenes from the ghost movies she had watched in her previous life flashing through her mind.
Pitch-black wilderness with no one around, an empty and lonely voice, a girl alone outside...
Song Zhizhi shuddered and quickly looked around. As far as her eyes could see, there was not a single person. Only the broad river surface had somehow become covered in a thin mist, the air saturated with the damp vapor of dense fog.
Every hair on Song Zhizhi's body stood on end. If someone filmed this with a camera, there would be no need for color grading or special effects, no need for creepy music either—it could be released as a gloomy, terrifying ghost movie scene just like this.
This was a Cultivation World where science did not apply. There might really be ghosts here. She was fainthearted, so don't scare her!
Song Zhizhi nervously swallowed. Then, catching them off guard, she turned and bolted for the city gate. She was so fast that others only felt a gust of wind sweep past.
The voice behind Song Zhizhi paused.
Only after returning to the bustling crowd and feeling the lively human warmth around her did Song Zhizhi let out a breath. She had nearly been scared to death just now.
On Red Cloud Peak, not far from Ten Thousand Swords City, Sword Venerable Mingxiao, who had been healing his injuries, opened his eyes. His cool, detached brows furrowed.
"What is it, Mingxiao?" asked the elder from Medicine Peak, who was treating Mingxiao's injuries.
Sword Venerable Mingxiao said uncertainly, "I seemed to sense demonic aura just now. It was at the foot of the mountain."
"Could your senses be mistaken? I don't think any demon would be bold enough to appear at the Sword Sect."
Sword Venerable Mingxiao was not blindly optimistic. He frowned and pondered for a moment before saying, "No, I still need to take a look. If there truly is a demon capable of evading my Divine Sense and appearing here, that would not be good news for the Sword Sect."
For some reason, he had a faint premonition that if he remained on Red Cloud Peak, he might miss something important.
Sword Venerable Mingxiao's cultivation had already entered the Mahayana Stage, and his premonitions had always been accurate. Seeing this, the elder from Medicine Peak merely told him not to fight anyone and worsen his injuries. As for the rest, he let him do as he pleased.
Song Zhizhi cultivated for quite a while, then unknowingly grew sleepy again. She yawned and rubbed her eyes before lying down and falling asleep without realizing it.
Half asleep and half awake, she seemed to hear a shrill scream from outside. Dazed, she climbed up and stood by the window to look out.
Ten Thousand Swords City was very quiet at night. She was staying on the top floor of the inn, and perhaps because the moonlight was so bright, she could vaguely see through the towering city walls that outside Ten Thousand Swords City, a young man in white stood suspended in midair with his back to the city. He held a sword gleaming with cold light as he fought someone with a silver fish tail.
Hm? A person with a fish tail? Song Zhizhi immediately woke up. Without blinking, she stared fixedly in that direction.
The Merfolk controlled the moat's water, forming a towering tidal wave that slammed toward the young man with lightning speed. In that instant between sparks and flint, the young man raised his sword. The motion seemed light and casual, yet carried the weight of a thousand jun; with one strike, he split the thousand-foot wave in two.
It was an extraordinarily dazzling and breathtaking sword strike. It was the first time Song Zhizhi had faced such immense power in the Cultivation World. The surging waves and the white-robed cultivator holding his sword etched themselves into her heart.
The inn was located in the center of Ten Thousand Swords City, too far away for Song Zhizhi to see the young man's face. Only then did she belatedly feel that his robes and build seemed familiar. But for some reason, male cultivators in the Cultivation World were obsessed with white clothing—six out of every ten men dressed that way—so Song Zhizhi could not recall where she had seen him before.