Chapter Thirteen: Awakening, Taking Cang Yi as a Disciple

A century later, a figure burst forth from the snowy depths of the valley, adorned in an icy blue gown. Her hair was pinned up with hairpins made of crystalline ice, among which a single pink peach jade pin stood out conspicuously. She glanced at the sealed figures around her, paying particular attention to the stern and rigid God of Feng Yun, casting him a disdainful look and letting out a cold hum.

"I have no choice but to save you, but unless you experience some hardship and change your ways, I won’t be pleased with saving you," Qinglan admitted to her own bias.

With a gentle gesture, she gathered the primordial spirits of these people into her palm.

Feeling her mood lighten, Qinglan sought out the Destiny Immortal Lord to inscribe new fates.

"God Qinglan," the Destiny Immortal greeted her with a bow upon seeing her.

"For these three, write their destinies so they must endure life and death many times. Include false accusations and sieges as well," Qinglan handed the primordial spirits of Chiyan, Huazhen, and Feng Yun to the Immortal.

"Are you using your authority for personal matters?"

"Why, is that not allowed?"

"Of course it is," the Destiny Immortal wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

"The rest, write as you wish—consider it their training," she handed over the remaining primordial spirits.

With the divine realm temporarily leaderless, Qinglan instructed the God Qingxuan to maintain order, while in the demon realm, she specifically asked Jinhan to assist the three demon kings in governance.

Qinglan herself searched the world for Cangyi’s primordial spirit, spending a year before she succeeded. During that time, she could not find her parents’ spirits—perhaps they had already reincarnated?

Doubt lingered in Qinglan’s heart, but she pressed on, focusing on repairing his spirit. She traveled to the Destiny Immortal’s residence, not to have his fate written.

"Destiny Immortal, I will keep this person at my side, so no need to write a fate. Is there anything I should be cautious about?"

"You only need to avoid disrupting the final fate of mortals in the cultivation world. Otherwise, do as you wish. If things become irretrievable, you will suffer backlash, so proceed carefully."

"Understood," Qinglan replied.

She cast the person into the cultivation world, leaving his placement to fate, confident she would find him wherever he was.

During his growth, Qinglan scoured both the divine and demon realms for a certain person’s presence, destroying all his avatars she found.

After more than a decade, Qinglan appeared in the grand hall of the Cloud Comfort Sect, her aura instantly causing all present to feel suffocated.

"May I ask who you are, and what brings you here?" Sect Leader Qingruo Immortal asked, sweat beading on his brow.

"I am Xuanqiong. Today I come to request a position within your sect—a place to stand."

"With your cultivation, it is our honor. What position do you desire?" Qingruo Immortal showed respect—strength commands reverence, an iron law.

"What is the highest rank?" Xuanqiong pondered. She had to ensure her disciple’s status was high enough to avoid being bullied or overlooked.

"The highest is Sect Leader. Do you wish to take it?" Qingruo’s words stunned Xuanqiong.

"That’s unnecessary. A position just below you will suffice," she replied, not keen to waste time on such affairs.

"How about the rank of Immortal Elder?" Qingruo Immortal ventured.

"That will do."

"Qianxin, escort Immortal Elder Xuanqiong to reside at Jingmo Peak," Qingruo instructed.

"Yes," Xia Qianxin replied. "Immortal Elder, this way please."

Upon reaching the destination, Xuanqiong found the area somewhat noisy. She surveyed her surroundings and spotted a desolate mountain nearby.

"May I reside there?" Xuanqiong pointed to the adjacent peak.

"Of course! I—I'll go ask the Sect Leader to—prepare accommodations," Xia Qianxin stammered nervously.

"No need. I can handle it myself. You may return," Qinglan said, vanishing before Xia Qianxin’s eyes, leaving her astonished by the display of power.

Thinking of Xuanqiong’s formidable abilities, Xia Qianxin immediately flew by sword to report to the Sect Leader, who raised no objection.

After tidying up the barren mountain, Xuanqiong began reading to understand the layout, power structures, cultivation levels, and nations of the cultivation world.

There were three major sects: Liuxian, Cloud Comfort, and Muming, the top sects in the cultivation world. There were also upper three sects and lower six halls.

Three main nations: Lingyue, Qiong, and Beiyao. Many noble families, with the strongest being the Shen, Yun, and Murong families.

Cultivation levels were numerous:

[First Tier: Mortal Realm—Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Cyan, Violet.
Second Tier: Martial Realm.
Third Tier: Spirit Realm.
Fourth Tier: Breaking Realm.
Fifth Tier: Yuan Realm.
Sixth Tier: Royal Realm.
Seventh Tier: Imperial Realm.

Upon reaching the pinnacle of the Imperial Realm and passing tribulations, one could become a minor immortal in the divine realm. Exceptional talents could ascend further.]

Those with poor aptitude might never advance, while the gifted might take two or three years per level, but progress becomes increasingly difficult. Few ever reach the divine realm; in countless millennia, only one or two have achieved it. Xuanqiong felt fortunate to have been born directly in the divine realm.

In the cultivation world, only one person had reached the Imperial Realm, and not at a high stage. The leaders of the three major sects were all at the Royal Realm, symbolizing their sects' strength.

———

In the Murong residence of Lingyue Nation, books cluttered the desk. A pair of peach blossom eyes focused on the pages, fully absorbed.

Suddenly, his expression faltered, but only for a moment, before he returned to his reading. Yet his mind wandered, distracted for nearly half an hour as dusk fell.

Anyone seeing him would deem him breathtakingly beautiful, though still young and not highly cultivated—a pity.

———

After a while, hunger struck. He tidied the books and rose, adjusting his white robes. Before he finished, a knock came at the door.

"Enter."

The visitor was dressed in black, creating a stark contrast with Murong Luohua. Both wore the Murong family emblem.

"Big Brother, it's time for dinner," Murong Jinhan called, worried his elder might forget to eat.

"Jinhan, your timing is perfect. I am indeed hungry."

The two left the study together and went to dine.

"Jinhan, your father wishes you to join one of the three major sects to gain experience," said Murong Haoran, head of the family, during dinner.

"I can't. I don't like restrictions. Why not let Big Brother or Third Sister go?" Murong Jinhan protested, aggrieved.

"Your brother is the heir; your sister is our precious jewel. Whom should I send?" Murong Haoran replied.

"So I’m adopted, then," Murong Jinhan nearly burst into tears.

"Father, I think sending Big Brother is wise. He needs broader experience to inherit the family," Murong Nianchu chimed in, balancing her brother’s complaint with reason.

"Luohua, would you be willing?" Murong Haoran spoke gently.

"Broadening my horizons would be good," Murong Luohua considered.

"Which sect would you like?" Nianchu asked.

"I don’t mind. Any will do," Luohua replied casually.

"I think Cloud Comfort Sect is best—it’s the leader of the three," Jinhan suggested, eating with relish.

"I agree; Cloud Comfort is the foremost," Nianchu echoed.

"Where do you want to go, Luohua?" Haoran asked.

"Any is fine," Luohua said indifferently.

"Cloud Comfort it is," Haoran decided.

Xuanqiong had bought some pastries and, upon entering, overheard them mention Cloud Comfort. Curious, she wanted to listen more, but they soon changed topics.

Three days later, when the major sects recruited disciples, the three Murong children set out for their journeys, leaving Haoran to manage the household—a difficult task.

Xuanqiong sat on Lingyu Peak, awaiting the day Cloud Comfort recruited disciples. When it finally arrived, she promptly appeared before the Sect Leader.

"In this year’s selection, I will only take Murong Luohua, the Murong family’s heir, as my disciple." Her meaning was clear: it was predetermined, and no one else could compete.

"Very well," Qingruo Immortal agreed immediately; her cultivation was too deep for him to resist.

Recruitment was based on talent. The most gifted were taken by peak masters, those of average talent by elders, and those with poor talent became outer disciples, taught by the disciples of peaks or elders.

In this merit-based world, talent and cultivation were paramount—survival of the fittest, an immutable law.

The first round was the talent test on a pillar: the higher one ascended, the greater the talent, and cultivation could also be measured.

———

Murong Luohua’s talent was outstanding: Martial Realm, blue level, with a cultivation glowing blue-cyan.

Murong Nianchu had average talent: Mortal Realm, violet level, with cultivation glowing pale yellow.

Murong Jinhan did not test, for his cultivation would shatter the pillar; he was only there to gather information. Once his charge was handed over, he need not watch over Luohua.

———

Beiming Ling’s talent was exceptional: Spirit Realm, orange level, with cultivation glowing purple.

Such talents and cultivation drew praise, and some couldn’t resist vying for disciples.

———

Most of the rest had average or low talent, their cultivation at early Mortal Realm, with a few at cyan level. Only one had exceptional talent but cultivation at Mortal Realm, cyan level—clearly not diligent.

Talent alone won’t advance cultivation; there is no substitute for hard work.

The second round was sparring—duels between peers, a fair test. The champion of each tier could choose their master, but Beiming Ling, with the highest cultivation, had no match and was directly accepted as Qingruo Immortal’s disciple.

In the Martial Realm tier, there were many candidates, so Murong Luohua had to compete.

Unfortunately, his first opponent was a Martial Realm, violet level. Both took up wooden swords and mounted the stage.

"Murong Luohua, please guide me."

"Yun Siyu."

The duel began, and as their swords crossed, the disparity in strength became clear.

Both from noble families, their sword techniques and spells were numerous, but with a two-level gap, Luohua fell behind.

He was defeated and knocked off the stage. Xuanqiong, watching, felt a pang and caught him at the edge, in the space of a single breath.

"In future, as fellow disciples, do not strike to kill—otherwise, you will be disqualified," she announced, prompting restraint among the competitors.

Luohua instinctively clutched her sleeve, gazing at her face—willow brows, apricot eyes, a high nose, skin like jade, but white hair rather than black. His chest tightened.

"Will you let go?" Xuanqiong reminded him.

"Thank you."

Xuanqiong turned away, not daring to linger.

In the subsequent matches, Luohua’s cultivation outstripped his opponents, and he won all, but the earlier loss meant he couldn’t choose his master.

As others were taken as disciples, he alone remained, feeling his first defeat—his talent was high, yet no one chose him.

"Do you not have a master?" Qingruo Immortal approached, seeing him stand motionless—wasn’t someone supposed to take him?

"No."

———

"I know of an excellent candidate. Would you be willing?"

"Please, Sect Leader."

"Our Immortal Elder Xuanqiong has yet to take a disciple. Why not seek her out?"

"No need, I am already here," Xuanqiong appeared suddenly, startling Luohua.

Seeing his reaction, she wondered if her earlier words had been too cold.

Fortunately, Luohua, as heir, quickly composed himself and asked,

"Would Immortal Elder Xuanqiong accept me as her disciple?" Luohua bowed respectfully.

"I came for you; you won’t regret it. Ascension is not a difficult matter," Xuanqiong replied, her tone unconsciously gentle.

After the formal ceremony, Xuanqiong placed her exclusive ‘Frost Seal’ in his palm—a mark of identity and a seal.

"From today, you are my disciple. I expect diligence and perseverance—do not disappoint your master."

"Yes, Master."

"Sect Leader, this is my unique seal. Seeing it is as seeing me. Let your disciples know—if anyone bullies my disciple..."

"Rest assured, no one will dare," Qingruo Immortal interrupted before she finished.

Nearby, Beiming Ling witnessed the scene—when did Cloud Comfort gain such a figure? The Sect Leader was so respectful; curiosity compelled her to approach.

"Sect Leader Qingruo, who is this?" Beiming Ling’s sudden question made Qingruo’s brow twitch.

"This is our Immortal Elder Xuanqiong. She keeps a low profile, so the world knows little of her."

"The stronger one is, the less they care for worldly affairs. Surely the Immortal Elder is powerful. Would you accept me as a disciple?" Beiming Ling asked directly.

"You’ll have to ask Immortal Elder Xuanqiong if she will take you," Qingruo said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I can do anything you wish—laundry, cooking—whatever you need," Beiming Ling said eagerly.

"I only take one disciple," Xuanqiong refused without hesitation.

Beiming Ling deflated—such a high cultivation meant she was indeed aloof.

Murong Nianchu’s talent was average, so she could only become an elder’s disciple, but the elder was the chief among them. Though they trained separately, they remained part of the same sect; if fate allowed, they would meet again.

The final step was to register identities. Each sect had a giant stone for recording lineage—once entered, one could trace ancestors eighteen generations back, and know if someone died.

If a disciple faced heavenly tribulation during advancement, the stone could protect them from the final lightning strike—a crucial safeguard.

If someone died, the stone would trace their home and notify family, even offering compensation.

Xuanqiong brought Luohua to her secluded peak, shielded by a barrier. At the entrance, a stone bore the inscription "Lingyu Peak." Snow fell continuously on the roof, covering everything in pristine white.

"There are many rooms here—choose any. Settle your belongings and familiarize yourself with the surroundings. Come to my cultivation chamber at dawn tomorrow, and I will begin teaching you spells and the use of magical tools."

"Yes, Master."

Luohua selected a room, arranged his possessions neatly, and began meditating, cultivating spiritual power. Unknowingly, dusk passed and midnight arrived. Feeling hungry, he went to the dining hall, but found it empty—he would have to practice fasting soon.

As he was about to leave, a delicious aroma wafted to him. Unable to resist, he followed the scent.

He found someone roasting a rabbit—dressed in icy blue, half her hair pinned up, adorned with hairpins, face masked.

"Who are you? Come out," she called sharply.

"Disciple Murong Luohua. I was simply too hungry and followed the scent—not here to steal your food," Luohua blurted out his intentions.

She laughed softly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"These are for you," she said, departing immediately.

"You’re not eating...?" Luohua wondered at her departure.

Taking the two skewers of rabbit meat, he left, unaware of a silent figure watching him.

Having eaten his fill, he resumed cultivation in peace. Dawn arrived quickly, and Luohua was already in Xuanqiong’s chamber.

Xuanqiong arrived on time, placed her finger on his vital acupoint, and his spiritual power dissipated. She then rebuilt his divine and demonic meridians, purer than before.

"Why did you strip me of my cultivation, Master?"

"I purified your bloodline. Your talent will be higher, and your cultivation will soon recover."

As she spoke, two streams of spiritual power entered his mind, imparting cultivation methods—including demonic cultivation.

"These are your cultivation secrets. You must master them within three years," Xuanqiong explained, adding demonic techniques because his demonic meridian remained, and cultivating both would accelerate his progress.

Three years? It was a lot, but he had to accept.

"Yes, Master."

He began training, fasting, spending every day reading and practicing the secrets.

He trained tirelessly and, within three years, mastered all she had given him. No sooner had he celebrated than he heard the sect would hold a grand examination.

Luohua, uncertain, hurried to find his master.

"Master, in these three years I only studied spell secrets, not actual combat. How should I face the upcoming exam?"