Chapter 47

With a sudden turn, she grabbed Zhao Lei’s army belt and, in a coquettish voice, said, “Where are you going, darling? I won’t let you leave.” But let’s set aside how he pacified his concubine for now; just the matter of posting notices all over the county the following day, announcing the cancellation of the temple’s construction, was more than enough to keep him busy. Not only did he have to calm the populace, but he also had to explain the reasons behind it: the celestial maiden, compassionate toward the people’s hardships, was unwilling to burden them with unnecessary toil and expense. Such words indeed put an end to the temple plans, yet that did not stop many households from privately setting up altars at home.

Not knowing the celestial maiden’s true name, people let their imaginations run wild and named her the Fairy of the Mei River—a fitting image. Those who had seen her that night spread the tale, and the clay figurines they molded were remarkably lifelike.

Li Mengze remained oblivious to all this, but the artifact spirit, as her attendant and a creature born of heaven and earth, was acutely sensitive to merit and the power of faith. Overnight, receiving such a surge of devotion replenished what had been expended for her earlier cultivation, and this steady stream would prove greatly beneficial for her and for her pocket world in the long run.

With this matter resolved, Li Mengze felt relief wash over her. She returned to Peach Blossom Village just as the tide was rising. The villagers themselves rarely bothered with the bounty of the sea, but her interest was yet unsated, so she went out almost daily.

At home, she fetched her little basket, lined thickly with oiled paper so there was no worry of seawater seeping through. Every time she ventured out, she took this basket with her.

Upon reaching the back shore, she saw a few children gathering shellfish on the beach. She couldn’t tell whose children they were, so she simply chose a spot farther away and busied herself.

She had a particular fondness for shellfish, with a special liking for swimming crabs and mantis shrimp. She could subsist on these alone, so every time the tide came in, she would collect enough to fill her basket.

These delicacies were not easy to find—unlike kelp and ordinary shells, which the tide washed up onshore—but it posed no great challenge for her; after all, she was a cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage.

Li Mengze’s identity was that of an orphan girl. In Peach Blossom Village, all she possessed was a house and a small plot of land behind it, perhaps a few tenths of a mu—enough to plant rice. Coupled with some noodles, in others’ eyes, it was sufficient for a year’s rations.

In truth, what others saw was merely an illusion. She hadn’t planted anything in the backyard at all; the lush greenery was simply the effect of an array of illusions. It wasn’t laziness—rather, the spiritual energy here was too poor for spirit rice to grow, and she was accustomed to eating spirit rice. She had no desire to go back to plain white rice, so she saved herself the trouble. After all, every bit of spiritual energy now came from spirit stones, and, if calculated, was more costly than spirit rice itself.

That night, as she cultivated, a distant rumble reached her ears. The sound was all too familiar—gunfire and artillery, echoing from her previous life’s memories of television. But this was no television; this was reality. Where there is war, there is slaughter. Who knew how many would be driven from their homes and families by this conflict? Such was karma: as long as it did not involve cultivators, they could not interfere. She could only hope those in power would show mercy to their people.

She did not sleep that night. Peach Blossom Village was a true haven, with its narrow entrance road wedged between two cliffs—one misstep, and you’d tumble down. Few ever noticed this place, so it was quite secure. She had no concern for the villagers; they were gentle, honest, and industrious, rarely tempted by the outside world, which was why the village had known peace for centuries.

Though the spiritual energy was thin here, Li Mengze could feel her cultivation gradually improving. At first, she thought this was simply the effect of using spirit stones, but the rate of depletion in the array was not fast. Observing the spiritual energy within her own dantian, she realized that, as a single fire-root cultivator, her innate fire spirit body, after being transformed by the Ten Thousand Fires of Creation, now held spiritual liquid in the form of flames—mostly red tinged with purple. But recently, even when not cultivating, she saw tiny clusters of spiritual energy, aglow with white light, squeezing in from the air around her. She did not know why, but it was certainly a blessing.

Yet as time wore on, she grew anxious. What if she formed her core here, but upon returning to Kunlun, there were no celestial phenomena to mark her breakthrough? That would be hard to explain.

“Oh, I just went out for a stroll during closed-door cultivation, and when I got back, I formed my core!”

Or, “I don’t know how it happened—perhaps I’m just one of those rare cases with no celestial signs.”

Who would believe that? Even if no one asked questions, there would definitely be rumors. If it led to further complications, things could get troublesome.

So she had to find a way back. She had checked the portal several times; the door, long dim, now seemed to be growing brighter, though not yet enough to open. She had studied it but could not discern what energy the portal drew upon—definitely not spirit stones, for she had tried, and the portal had shown utter disdain. No, not even disdain; it was more ‘wealth cannot move me, but wealth I will still accept.’ One day, she left a large bag of spirit stones by the door. The next day, the portal was unchanged, but the stones had vanished. After that, she dared not try again—spirit stones were not easily come by, and were now a non-renewable resource. Conservation was key.

Because of her impending core formation, she was distracted in all she did, but she could not simply hide away—there were so few households in the village that if she stayed indoors for two days, someone would come knocking to check on her.

But such is life: the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen. As the saying goes, disaster strikes uninvited.

That evening, the village beauty, Xia Chun, came looking for her again. Xia Chun was not particularly pretty, but she perfectly matched the current standard of beauty—a sturdy build, about 1.6 meters tall by her estimate, and weighing perhaps 70 kilograms. She was the first choice for any farming family seeking a daughter-in-law, with suitors lining up at the door. That’s how she earned her title as the village flower.

Whether the young men liked her or not, Li Mengze didn’t know, but their mothers all adored her—that much was certain.

Xia Chun’s visit was for no particular reason; this year, the provincial capital had launched a so-called “Fairy Festival.” There was no temple, but the event was grand, and the villagers wanted to join the festivities. Xia Chun came to ask if Li Mengze wanted to come along.

Preoccupied as she’d been lately, Li Mengze had no interest in such matters. She declined, saying she had other things to attend to. Xia Chun left disappointed, lamenting that Li Mengze had missed out on a good time.

Because of her impatience, she hadn’t listened to all that Xia Chun wanted to say, and this caused her much anxiety later. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing, or she would have regretted it bitterly.

During this period, Li Mengze hardly dared to cultivate, yet her cultivation continued to grow steadily. Most of the villagers had gone out to join the festival, while she sat restlessly on her bed.

The weather was gloomy, thick clouds gathering overhead. She checked the portal yet again, and just as she resolved to find a place to undergo her tribulation, she was delighted to see the once-dim portal now shining brilliantly.

Her heart leaped—heaven never truly cuts off all paths.

She rushed through the portal at once. Seeing her familiar cultivation chamber again, she dashed out and made for the Kunlun Tribulation Platform. There, a complete array could increase her chances of weathering the tribulation, and the resulting surge of spiritual energy would benefit all the disciples of Kunlun—a win-win situation.

Of course, only those who broke through naturally were permitted to use this place; those who advanced by accident would never make it in time.

Li Mengze raced like the wind, her speed marked only by the swiftly moving thunderclouds above.

“Who’s about to face the tribulation?”

“Hurry, let’s go watch!”

“It’s coming from the direction of Cangjian Peak.”

“Is it the peak master of Cangjian?”

“That would be a Nascent Soul cultivator by now, wouldn’t it?”

“No, no, judging by the density of those clouds, it’s more likely a Golden Core tribulation.”

“Really? Then who’s forming their core?”

“I heard Uncle Mengze was in seclusion recently?”

“No way—Uncle Mengze has only been cultivating for a few years!”

Disciples flocked noisily toward the tribulation platform, and the peak masters of every summit sensed the spiritual fluctuations in the air.

When she arrived, Uncle Longbrow, who oversaw the platform, had already activated the array, and the other peak masters had gathered.

Li Mengze’s situation was urgent: spiritual energy was rampaging within her. As soon as she sat on the platform, before she could even retrieve her defensive artifacts, the first bolt of tribulation lightning struck.

Uncle Longbrow, standing to the side, felt his heart tremble. He knew this child—she was that lad’s niece from Cangjian Peak. Though this was merely a Golden Core tribulation, the lightning, thick as a barrel and tinged with black and purple, made him wonder if she could survive it.

The first bolt struck; the protective barrier of the array shuddered, and so did Li Mengze’s heart.

Uncle Longbrow’s voice sounded in her ear, and Li Mengze gave a subtle nod. The barrier slowly opened, and a violet bolt of lightning shot through the gap, striking her directly. Without a single defensive artifact, pain shot through her body as her spiritual energy rushed toward her dantian.

There is no better way to temper the body than tribulation lightning, so Li Mengze hadn’t used any defensive tools at first—and didn’t reach for them later, either. However, her calculations had been off. The Ten Thousand Fires of Creation within her, though a fire of life, resonated with the tribulation lightning, which was black tinged with purple, raising the difficulty by several degrees.

Ba Yicheng was in his cave residence, entertaining Wei Qingtong, who had been dropping by frequently for no obvious reason—just tea and small talk. It was strange. This day, Wei came again.

As they drank tea, both suddenly sensed the spiritual disturbance outside. They exchanged glances, and Ba Yicheng frowned. “This isn’t good. Other than Master, the only one in closed-door cultivation on Cangjian Peak is Ze’er.”

He caught only a glimpse of a retreating figure. After a moment’s pause, he also hurried to the tribulation platform. Though the distance wasn’t far, his mind raced with thoughts. It dawned on him that Wei’s recent attentiveness was not without motive—he had an eye on someone.

He wondered what Master intended. No wonder, during the last visit from the fairy of the Pill Cauldron Sect and the Misty Cloud Sect, Wei had been nowhere to be found—turns out he wanted to keep things “in the family.”

As for his little junior sister’s future dual cultivation partner, Ba Yicheng had no particular opinion. Though they were childhood friends, he had practically watched her grow up—if not for the cleansing process that eliminated impurities from a cultivator’s body, he might have changed her diapers himself. So he really had no romantic thoughts about her.

But when he thought of the “her” in his own heart, he scratched his head. Though nothing was settled yet, knowing his master’s character, there was an eighty percent chance it would work out. There would be obstacles, of course, but as for his own chances—there wasn’t even a hint of hope. Envy, jealousy, and resentment—he wondered if he’d ever be able to enjoy their friendship again.

Wei Qingtong, unaware of Ba Yicheng’s musings, had eyes only for the small figure on the tribulation platform, wishing he could take her place.

He knew this was best for her. Tempering the body with tribulation lightning would strengthen a Golden Core cultivator’s physique to the level of a body cultivator.

He hadn’t seen her duel often, but given the overall standard of Cangjian Peak, she couldn’t be lacking. If it were him, he would also choose to face the lightning head-on, and with so many people watching, the risk of mishap was minimal.

They say that concern breeds confusion, and that was certainly his state. As each black-and-purple bolt struck her tiny figure, he was more anxious than he had been during his own tribulation.

With one hand grasping a gathering-spirit pill and the other a defensive artifact, she was prepared for the possibility of being overwhelmed. She did not possess a lightning spirit root, so enduring all nine bolts was unlikely, but the more she could take, the better, so she made contingency plans.

After the third bolt struck, as Li Mengze looked inward, she suddenly noticed the small flickering flame in her dantian—and an idea sparked.

The Ten Thousand Fires of Creation, though an alien flame, could absorb other spiritual energies for its own enhancement. The tribulation lightning contained immense power; if she could absorb it, her cultivation would rise to new heights, and the alien flame would be strengthened as well.

She was always one to act on her thoughts—reckless to some degree, perhaps, but on the path of cultivation, fortune favors those with bold ideas.