Chapter 5

Li Mengze pondered for a while, then rummaged through the pile of treasures on the ground, picking out a few medium-grade spirit stones. Clutching them in her hand, she sat cross-legged, one hand resting on the pattern on her chest, the other gripping the spirit stones as she activated her cultivation technique to absorb the spiritual energy within.

With the addition of the medium-grade spirit stones and the continuous flow of energy from the Spirit Gathering Array, spiritual energy coursed through Li Mengze’s body and was absorbed by the jade talisman embedded in her chest. At this moment, Li Mengze herself was nothing but a conduit, letting the spiritual energy flow through her without retaining any for herself—a truly selfless act. If this thing turned out to be worthless, it would have thoroughly betrayed her good intentions.

Fortunately, as if in response to her inner grumbling, about half an hour later, Li Mengze felt her body lighten. She stopped absorbing spiritual energy, opened her eyes, and looked around.

Where was the legendary portable dimension, the blessed land hidden within her? All she saw was a patch of withered grass, taller than she was. Where were the spiritual herbs and treasures, the secret techniques and magical artifacts that were supposed to fill the reborn heroine’s space? Where was any of it?

A flood of information surged into Li Mengze’s mind, making her grit her teeth in frustration—it was almost enough to make her curse aloud. This was nothing but a bottomless pit! No wonder it had been abandoned by some great cultivator, and yet here she was, treasuring it like a priceless heirloom.

Why had she been so impulsive as to activate it? But then, recalling the information she’d just received, she realized she had little choice. If she didn’t provide it with enough spiritual energy, this thing would automatically siphon off any energy she cultivated. That would be even worse—a joke for the entire cultivation world! The prodigy with a pure fire spirit root, unable to break through the Qi Refining stage for a hundred years, dying of old age—she’d be a laughingstock even in her grave.

She rummaged through her entire storage pouch but couldn’t find a single spiritual plant. Although the soil here was barren and far from the legendary spiritual earth, according to inherited memories, there was a spring on a mountain further back, far superior to an ordinary spiritual spring. Over the centuries, all the spiritual energy originally in the space had been absorbed by this thing. As long as she could divert the spring water to irrigate the land, it wouldn’t be long before she could plant spiritual herbs. Once the herbs flourished, they would generate spiritual energy on their own, and the space would function automatically without her having to play the role of a toiling farmer.

Glancing at her small arms and legs, Li Mengze calmly steeled herself. So what if she couldn’t advance for a year or two? After all, those who build a strong foundation always surpass their peers in the end. Still, this meant she couldn’t afford to delay developing a secondary profession.

What was the most lucrative path? She didn’t even need to think: alchemy. Alchemists not only held high status but also made money quickly. Didn’t the white lotus heroine in the original novel rise to sixth-rank alchemist in no time, thanks to taming a strange flame gifted by the male lead?

Her chances of acquiring such a flame were slim. The protagonist’s strange flame was a gift from the male lead—unless her own parents or uncle dropped one in her lap, she’d better not dwell on it.

Besides, strange flames weren’t exactly cabbages growing everywhere. In fact, cabbages weren’t even common these days. In all her years, she’d rarely eaten cabbage; there was a spiritual jade vegetable that looked similar, but it wasn’t nearly as succulent.

Her mind beginning to wander, she dragged herself back to the task at hand. Li Mengze set off, her short legs carrying her toward the direction of the spiritual spring described in her inheritance. When spiritual energy was scarce in the space, she could only rely on herself. But once the energy density exceeded sixty percent, the space would function like the portable dimensions in the novels—though without ready-made techniques, everything would have to be built by her own efforts.

As for determining the density of spiritual energy, it wasn’t difficult. Once it reached thirty percent, the artifact spirit would appear. Until then, the spirit remained dormant to conserve energy.

Li Mengze snorted inwardly. “Conserve energy, huh? More like too weak from hunger to wake up.” The little voice in her mind that had been crying out for food was surely the artifact spirit—a pitiful, perpetually famished infant.

She sighed deeply. Fortunately, there was no one else in the space to see her, and even the only artifact spirit had fainted from hunger. Otherwise, they’d surely laugh at the sight—a chubby baby with hands too short to meet behind its back, sighing like a little old man.

On she went, trudging and resting in turns, unsure whether to be grateful for this space at all. None of its legendary functions worked, but at least the flow of time was favorable: a month inside was only a day outside. That meant she could linger here without arousing suspicion; if she didn’t emerge for a day, others would simply assume she was cultivating in her room.

She didn’t know how long she’d been walking—each fasting pill lasted three days, and she’d taken two. Only after this length of time did she finally hear the sound of running water. The further she walked, the more she could sense the increased humidity and spiritual energy in the air. Soon, she even saw patches of color—a few plants. She couldn’t tell spiritual herbs from weeds, nor whether they were poisonous, so she ignored them for now. She resolved that, once she got out, she’d find a book on spiritual plants, to avoid discarding any rare herbs as useless weeds in the future.

From the moment she heard the water, Li Mengze walked for another half a day before finally catching sight of the so-called spiritual spring.

The scene before her left Li Mengze unsure whether to laugh or cry. She really shouldn’t have put so much faith in the so-called inherited memories—what a joke they were. In her inheritance, the space had been a thriving paradise, spiritual herbs everywhere. In reality, the wild grass here grew taller than she was. The spiritual spring, described as a vast lake in her memories, turned out to be a mere trickle, no wider than her arm, seeping through cracks in the rock and on the verge of drying up.

She couldn’t help but suspect that, deprived of spiritual energy, this space might someday self-destruct. Otherwise, how could it have fallen into such a sorry state?

She worried that after all the effort it would take to clear the spring and direct the water to irrigate the land, it might dry up altogether. All that work would be for nothing—and she’d have to do it by hand! Even mortals in the cultivation world didn’t labor manually anymore; at least they had oxen to help.

In truth, Li Mengze didn’t know—and had never seen it for herself—but the mortal world here was much like Earth, with technology not only equal but sometimes more advanced. Mortals could cultivate spiritual plants and sell them to cultivators, with both sides benefiting from the exchange. Life was quite comfortable. Compared to that, her situation was truly pitiful.

She’d wanted to dig a channel inside the space to lead the spring water down to irrigate the land, but looking at her scrawny limbs, she decided to postpone such an ambitious project until she reached the third layer of Qi Refining.

She severed her connection to the space, leaving only a basic trickle of spiritual energy supplied each day. That way, she could still cultivate without the space shutting down, though it would still siphon off almost a third of her daily gains.

Luckily, Li Mengze had a pure spiritual root and a strong affinity for spiritual energy. Otherwise, the day she built her foundation would be a distant dream indeed.

On Sword-Hidden Peak, the spiritual energy was abundant, and as Li Yunzan’s blood relative, Li Mengze had long benefited from a medium-grade Spirit Gathering Array set up at her residence. Spiritual energy was ever-present, yet it still took her a full month to reach the third layer of Qi Refining.

Li Yunzan was quite pleased. The early stages of Qi Refining generally progressed quickly, but most disciples needed half a year. His little niece had reached the third layer in only a month, and her foundation was rock-solid—a sign of both talent and comprehension.

What he didn’t know was that, having lived two lives, Li Mengze’s insight far surpassed the ordinary. She had long since mastered the Fire God Technique’s Qi Refining stage, and with ample spiritual energy on Sword-Hidden Peak, had it not been for the space siphoning off her hard-won gains, she might have set a new record in the cultivation world.

Yet over this month, Li Mengze gained some insights. Perhaps the space was not the deadweight she’d thought it to be. Maybe it was precisely because of the space that her foundation was so firm, her breakthroughs so steady and effortless. Each time she advanced, her progress was seamless.

Spiritual energy flowed through her body, widening her meridians, first entering the space before returning to her dantian. The energy, filtered by the space, felt markedly different—denser, more refined. Upon entering her dantian, it was already halfway to liquefaction. She knew well that the key difference between the Qi Refining and Foundation Building stages was the transition from gaseous to liquid spiritual energy in the dantian. Her spiritual energy was already trending toward liquefaction—a pleasant surprise.

After a bout of strategic cuteness, she managed to secure a reward from her uncle Li Yunzan: two bottles of top-grade Spirit-Replenishing Pills and a flying artifact that could use spirit stones as fuel—perfect for daily travel, showing how thoughtful he was.

Leaving Sword-Hidden Peak, Li Mengze headed straight for the Hall of Myriad Arts on Mount Kunlun’s main peak, where she claimed her third-layer Qi Refining reward and a month’s worth of supplies. Compared to what Li Yunzan had given her, these were paltry, but as the saying goes, “even a fly’s leg is still meat.” Passing up free goods was never wise, so she accepted them with a smile.

The Hall of Myriad Arts was not only where disciples collected supplies but also where they could accept tasks and purchase daily necessities at prices ten percent lower—and of higher quality—than those in the marketplace.

Thus, new Kunlun disciples were not allowed to leave their respective peaks before reaching Foundation Building. After all, low-level disciples were those most at risk, and such rules were meant to protect them.

Of course, the rules weren’t absolute. With a supervisor’s token, exceptions could be made. Older disciples with special needs could go down the mountain once every three months.

Li Mengze could forget about such privileges. She was just a tiny child, and though her status was high, no one dared take her off the mountain. If anything happened to her, no one could bear the responsibility. So for now, the Hall of Myriad Arts was her only place to shop.

Fortunately, her parents and uncle had long since provided her with enough spirit stones for her daily needs. In short, she would never have to worry about pocket money again.

The larger the forest, the more birds there are within. As the greatest sect in the cultivation world, Kunlun was no exception. As Li Mengze was choosing the best hoe from the artifact wall, she heard a commotion behind her.

Children at her age were sharp-eared, and after cultivating, her senses were even keener. She didn’t need to strain to know what the dispute was about.

Not long after Li Mengze had arrived on the mountain, Kunlun held its once-a-decade discipleship ceremony. As a result, a fresh batch of new disciples had just entered the sect.

In Kunlun, outer sect disciples received two medium-grade Spirit-Replenishing Pills and five spirit stones per month. Inner sect disciples got ten pills and twenty lower-grade spirit stones. True disciples, like Li Mengze, not counting family allowances, received ten top-grade pills and two medium-grade spirit stones from the sect each month, with further rewards for each cultivation breakthrough.

Compared to itinerant cultivators, sect disciples not only had someone to rely on when bullied but also received proper guidance in cultivation, avoiding many pitfalls.

Yet, with so many people, disputes were inevitable. There had been cases of bullies among both the staff and the disciples. This incident was a typical example.

Working in the Hall of Myriad Arts was a cushy job, reserved for those with connections. The staff knew better than to shortchange true disciples or prominent inner disciples. However, for those outer disciples without backing or with poor spiritual roots, getting their allotted supplies was a different story—they often had to pay a price, sometimes even a bribe.

Most new outer disciples accepted this: new arrivals with no connections were easy targets, and the old hands’ extortion was an open secret. Usually, only a small portion of their supplies was taken in the first year; the rest was left untouched, so most turned a blind eye as long as things didn’t escalate.

Clearly, this time, a group of new disciples had refused to accept it, leading to a heated dispute. Judging by the gathering crowd and the rising voices, some sort of clique had formed.

Banding together so soon after joining wasn’t necessarily wise. These newcomers hardly knew one another, and the old hands would see them as arrogant upstarts—a perfect excuse for a lesson.

Sure enough, as more disciples gathered, the newcomers’ confidence grew, and they even talked about going to the Hall of Justice to complain to the disciplinary elder.

Li Mengze shook her head. With such people, the supervisor would likely hand over their supplies this time and smooth things over, but the loss of face would be repaid in full. Next time, it wouldn’t be just a matter of a few Spirit-Replenishing Pills.

The staff in the Hall of Myriad Arts were tightly knit. Offending one wasn’t as simple as just avoiding him next time. For a cultivator, the importance of pills and artifacts was self-evident. The difference between a tool that consumed twenty percent of one’s spiritual power and one that consumed thirty percent could be decisive in a fight. That’s why, despite their importance, few disciples risked open conflict with the staff over supplies.

It wasn’t that the supplies weren’t important; rather, nothing was more precious than one’s life. In Kunlun, and in any sect, it was unwise to act rashly. Temporary victory or defeat meant little—those who endured and advanced further on the path to immortality were the ones who truly mattered.

If, in the future, you surpassed these staff members in cultivation, you could always settle old scores—by then, with interest. No one did business at a loss.

Sure enough, when the supervisor appeared, the Qi Refining seventh-layer staffer quickly handed over the missing items, but the malice in his eyes was plain to see. If word came later that a new disciple had met an untimely end, Li Mengze would not be surprised. Of course, it was also possible that someone in this group was destined for greatness and would one day return, full of pride, to sigh over those still beneath them.