At night, Merin walks along the edge of the restaurant, checking each lock one by one. Satisfied, he steps into his carriage and closes the door behind him. With a light jolt, the carriage begins to move. He gazes out the small window, watching the streets empty as the sky darkens. The laughter of the last few vendors fades, replaced by the distant sound of boots—the city's night patrols making their rounds.
As night deepens, Merin's gaze lingers on the corners of the streets, the shadows that creep unnaturally. He knows what begins to stir now—mutated creatures and Evil Spirits born from the poisonous surge of spiritual energy that leaks in from the outside world. They move only at night. Normal weapons can't harm them. Only Holy Weapons or practitioners who have condensed Iron Light within their bodies can fight them.
From Situ Xing's memories, Merin knows the former owner of this body never encountered either of those horrors. The holy fire towers placed across the empire block 90% of such entities from entering. Situ Xing had always been lucky—or insignificant enough to be ignored.
The carriage slows and stops in front of his home. Merin steps out and walks toward the entrance. A guard waiting at the door bows and opens it. Before stepping inside, Merin pauses and turns his head northward.
Far in the distance, flames dance in the night sky—golden and unwavering. Though the holy tower itself is hidden from view, the light of the sacred fire burning at its peak is unmistakable, glowing like a beacon against the black sky.
He watches a moment longer, then steps inside.
The front path leads straight to a large mansion, but halfway down the walkway, Merin turns right toward a slightly smaller estate tucked to the side. The path is quieter here. More personal.
He opens the door and walks in, finding himself in the drawing room.
His wife is already there, seated and waiting for him. According to Xing's memory, when Du Yao waits like this in the drawing room, it always means she has something important to say. Merin steps in and asks, "Yao, why are you waiting for me here?"
Her light green eyes meet his calmly. "I told Mother and Father about your advancement to the Flesh Refining Realm. So, Mother ordered a feast in your honour. We'll be having dinner at your parents' place."
Merin nods. "I'll go and change, then."
Later, seated at the dining table, Merin sets his chopsticks down after finishing his meal. He doesn't rise, waiting as his wife and parents continue eating. After a few minutes, his father puts down his bowl and looks at him. "Tomorrow at dawn, our convoy leaves to deliver goods to the Ethereal Sect. You're aware of it, right?"
Merin nods and asks, "Who did you hire to guard the convoy?"
"Iron Bear Mercenary Group," his father replies. "Their leaders reached Iron Body—the peak of the Flesh Refining Realm."
Merin nods in approval. "They're reliable. With him, the convoy should be safe."
His father pauses, then adds, "Still, I want you to go with them."
Merin raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
His father leans forward slightly. "Word is, the Ethereal Sect recently discovered an iron mine. I want you to negotiate a deal—get them to reserve 2% of their ore for us. Securing that supply could give us an edge over our competitors."
Merin thinks for a moment, then says, "Alright." Thinking, if the deal works out, it'll benefit the family's business—and me as well. So, at night, he cannot go out to rob the robber's den nearby.
Later, he and Du Yao return home. They part quietly and go to their respective rooms.
Inside his own, Merin doesn't head straight to bed. Instead, he pulls out a pill the colour of polished jade. Sitting down, he pops the pill into his mouth. As it settles in his stomach, he closes his eyes, focusing inward.
Slowly, he begins to refine the medicinal energy.
Then, using the gathered power, he guides it through his body, steadily tempering and refining his flesh.
After some time, he falls asleep, thinking that with his current cultivation speed, it would take about two years to reach the peak of the Flesh Refining Realm. His breathing steadies, and a fragment of his consciousness remains behind to keep him alert. The rest sinks into his dream domain.
Once there, his awareness merges with the consciousness present within the domain, letting him instantly understand everything that transpired after he left. Now, only Valentina remains, currently training in the common training ground.
She conjures a blood whip and battles a white figurine set to the limit of an ordinary human's combat strength. From the memories stored in this body, Merin already knows that neither Valentina nor Butian has advanced to the mortal realm yet, but both can still use magic. Valentina controls blood innately, while Butian manipulates soil and stone. They're like his main body—each possessing an innate ability to draw energy directly from the void.
To learn more about the blood race, Merin uses Situ Xing's appearance and enters the training ground quietly, watching Valentina duel the white figurine. After a few minutes, just as Axel enters the hall, Valentina's whip curls around the figurine's neck and strangles it. Were it a living opponent, it would have meant death. The figurine vanishes.
Merin steps forward and claps. "Awesome," he says, drawing Valentina's attention.
She turns, eyes narrowing slightly, and sees a young man with features similar to hers, except for the blood gem double-ringed eyes, standing calmly on the platform surrounding the arena.
"I'm Situ Xing," Merin says. "You must be Valentina."
"How do you know my name?" she asks, cautiously.
"I asked the spirit," he replies.
Valentina nods slightly. "Are you from the first group?"
Before Merin can answer, Axel and Butian enter the training ground. Axel looks almost human, except for the lion-like mane of hair, beastly eyes, and sharp teeth. Butian's skin is polished white stone, completely smooth, with no hair anywhere on his body.
Merin looks toward them. "You must be Axel and Butian."
Axel and Butian glance at each other, then at Merin. Before they can speak, Valentina says, "He's from the first group."
Axel's eyes widen. "You're from the first group? Then, according to the spirit, you can help me!"
Merin raises a hand. "I'm not from the first group. I was summoned at the same time as all of you."
Valentina frowns. "Then why didn't we meet you last time?"
"My body woke up a few seconds after I was summoned," Merin explains. "By the time I arrived, everyone had already left."
The three nod in understanding. Axel's face falls. "Then… how can I meet the first group?"
Merin replies, "I met them when I took a nap at noon."
Axel lowers his head. "I can't sleep then… I have work."
Merin tilts his head. "Why are you so eager to meet the first group?"
Axel's voice steadies. "The spirit said they're all extraordinary—and four of them are human. I'm half-human. I want to see if their cultivation techniques can help me start my path of cultivation."
Merin considers that, then says, "In that case, I might be able to help. According to the spirit, I'm in the first stage of the mortal realm."
Axel brightens instantly. "Then you're extraordinary too!"
Merin nods. "I can teach you my cultivation technique."
"Thank you," Axel says with sincere gratitude. "I'll repay you in the future."
They step off the platform and head to a quiet corner of the training ground. There, Merin begins teaching the revised Thirty-Six Movement Technique to Axel.
Because it isn't his real body and there's no sensation of pain or muscle strain, Axel quickly performs all thirty-six movements with ease. Though Merin lacks detailed knowledge of Axel's internal structure—only a surface-level image of his skin—he still adjusts the movements enough for Axel to grasp the essence.
Meanwhile, Valentina spars with Butian nearby. They exchange blows enhanced by their innate magic—blood and stone clashing in fierce yet controlled bursts. As they train, Merin watches closely.
Their combat helps Merin understand the workings of their magic power. Though this is only a simulation, their thoughts guide the way they imagine their powers would work in the real world. The more accurate their self-understanding, the more precise the simulation—and the more Merin learns.
Merin briefly considers trying to replicate their magic using his dream control, but quickly dismisses the idea. His main body's energy is constantly devoured by the black energy, leaving little to experiment with. The only energy he acquires now is harvested subtly from the three spirits present—Axel, Valentina, and Butian—and carefully stored within his dream domain for future use.
His clone's realm, saturated with poisonous spiritual energy, offers no better option. If he were to guide that toxic energy with his mind to simulate magic, the backlash could damage his consciousness. For now, he focuses on observation, storing valuable knowledge for later refinement.
Turning to Axel, Merin asks, "How is your situation in your realm?"
Axel lowers his gaze slightly. "I live in a slave camp under a human noble. Most of us there are hybrids—half-human, half-orc."
"You're a slave, then?" Merin asks.
"Fourteen winters have passed since my birth," Axel replies. "Once sixteen winters pass, I'll be officially marked as a slave."
Merin nods slowly. "So you want to become extraordinary and escape before that happens."
"I want to escape… but not just like that," Axel says, his expression tight. "Even if I become extraordinary and run away, I'll still be hunted. Human nobles control all the territory around us. If any of them find me, I'll be captured again—or killed. Most hybrids are slaves in the human lands."
"Then what will you do?"
"There's a tradition," Axel explains. "The stronger hybrids forced the humans and orcs to sign a contract. It says that any hybrid can attempt to cross the Black Desert before their sixteenth winter. If they succeed, they're free, and the land on the other side belongs to hybrids. If they fail, they die in the desert—or return and are marked as slaves."
Merin narrows his eyes. "Will your noble allow you to attempt the trial once he learns you're extraordinary?"
Axel nods firmly. "He has to. Every noble signed that contract. It's enforced by the God of Order and Justice."
Merin pauses, surprised. "This is the first time I've heard of a god. Your realm has a god?"
"Yes," Axel says, confused. "Doesn't yours?"
Merin shakes his head. "No."
He then turns toward the other two and raises his voice. "Is there a god in either of your realms?"
Valentina and Butian stop mid-spar and look at him. Valentina tilts her head slightly and says, "Are you talking about the sixth realm of cultivation—the True Spirit Realm?"
Merin shakes his head. "No. I mean an actual god."
Valentina nods slowly. "In my realm, cultivators in the True Spirit Realm are also called gods."
Butian adds, "In my realm, they're known as Supremes."
Merin frowns in thought. This is the first time he's learned about realms beyond the third. He's only known of the Mortal, Flesh Refining, and Iron Light Realms. Curious, he asks, "Can you tell me the names of all the cultivation realms, starting from the beginning?"
Valentina responds without hesitation, "In my race, the first realm is called the Mortal or Apprentice Realm. The second is the Seal Realm. Third is the Virtual Core Realm. Fourth is the True Core Realm. Fifth is the Demigod Realm. And the sixth is the True Spirit Realm."
Merin's eyes narrow. "Is there a realm beyond the sixth?"
Valentina shakes her head. "My teacher said there is, but we don't need to know about it yet."
Merin turns to Butian, who shrugs. "I also don't know anything beyond what she said."
Merin's thoughts churn. If his main body can reach even the second realm, perhaps he'd have a better chance against the unknown enemy behind the black energy. He asks, "Can you explain how to advance from the first realm to the second?"
Valentina nods. "You have to develop your body to its limit in the Mortal Realm. When you reach that limit, a unique trait forms. Then, you must practice one to three Mortal Realm skills until they also reach their limits, forming more traits. After that, you combine the traits to form a seal."
She adds, "If you choose to rely on only one skill, that skill must evolve three times to reach the required depth."
Merin asks, "How do I know when my body is developed to the limit?"
Butian answers, "A golden light will appear within your body. That's the sign."
Merin nods. "And the skills—how can I tell when they reach their limit?"
Valentina says, "You'll know when a skill reaches its limit—the moment a trait is formed."
Merin nods, then asks, "You both seem to know more about cultivation worlds. Is there any realm where the spiritual energy is poisonous?"
Butian frowns. "How can spiritual energy be poisonous? If it were, no life could survive in such a realm."
Valentina nods in agreement. "He's right. That shouldn't be possible."
Merin says quietly, "My realm's spiritual energy is poisonous."
Valentina stares at him. "Then how are you still alive?"
Merin explains the existence of the Holy Fire Empire and how the holy fire towers suppress and purify the spiritual energy within the empire's borders.
Valentina's eyes narrow with interest. "Then the holy fire towers must be extraordinary… maybe the flames inside are Divine items."
Their conversation ends, but Merin's mind lingers on what they discussed. He begins thinking seriously about how his main body could develop a skill to the Mortal Realm's limit in order to step into the second realm. Creating a new skill or forming a tree body would take time, and there's danger in every step. Then, an idea surfaces—vital energy. It already exists within his body, born from his cells. If he can develop his control over it to its peak, the feedback might also refine his physical body, advancing both in tandem.
He tells the part of his consciousness managing the main body to begin working on this. Meanwhile, in the dream domain, he continues teaching Axel hand-to-hand combat techniques.
His separated consciousness locks onto the vital energy, but quickly realises that all free vital energy is being devoured by the black energy. Before attempting to cultivate it, Merin first sinks his mind deeper into the vital energy, observing its flow, behaviour, and connection with his cells. Without understanding its nature, there's no path to develop it.
Back in the Holy Fire Empire realm, Merin opens his eyes at the sound of a knock.
"Who is it?" he asks.
A female voice replies through the door, "Sir, Master told me to wake you. The convoy leaves in half an hour."
Merin answers, "Understood."
Later, at the entrance of their home, his father meets him and hands over a sheathed dagger.
"Take this," his father says. "It's made from holy metal. Outside our town, you may run into foul things."
Merin takes the weapon, nodding. "Thank you."
He boards his carriage. At the town's main gate, the carriage joins the centre of the convoy. With a final roll of wheels and snapping reins, they depart for Fog-Lake City, the nearest port to the Ethereal Sect. To reach the sect, situated beyond the lake, they must first arrive there and then travel by ship.
By tomorrow morning, they should reach Fog-Lake City. Inside the gently rocking carriage, Merin crosses his legs and starts cultivating. He activates the muscle vibration technique, and his entire body begins to tremble subtly. But after only thirty seconds, fatigue overtakes him, and he's forced to stop, sweat dampening his forehead.
He recalls the milestones. If one can maintain muscle vibration for three hours without rest, they reach the intermediate stage of the Flesh Cultivation Realm. Nine hours mark the late stage. Twenty-one hours—without interruption—signifies the peak stage.
The cultivation system of the Holy Fire Realm focuses on developing the body's constitution. A stronger constitution means greater resistance to the poisonous spiritual energy outside the holy fire towers. He now understands why cultivation here begins with the flesh. The body must be tempered before enduring the world's toxicity.
At the end of this system lies the Organ Realm. Its ultimate stage is called the Golden Body Realm. It might be the same golden light Valentina and Butian described—the sign that the mortal body has reached its peak.
So in this realm, he needs to follow this path to its end. If this body can manifest the golden light, he will finally understand its essence. That knowledge could help his main body, still trapped in the poisonous realm, advance beyond the first realm.
Of course, the golden light formed here may not transfer. This body is human. His true body is not. It's a tree. But even if the light cannot be shared, the understanding might. And that may be enough to tip the balance.
Thinking of this, he closes his senses and channels his full attention into refining his flesh. Time slips by unnoticed as his body begins its slow transformation. But after a few hours, Merin had to stop cultivating. A few minutes earlier, as fatigue crept in, not just from the strain, but from hunger.
Energy was essential for cultivation. He could replenish it using pills, but at dawn, before their departure, he hadn't eaten anything—same as most in the convoy. Now, his stomach gnawed at him with sharp urgency.
Deciding the time for him and the convoy to fill their stomach. There are rations in the convoy, but he decides to check if there are any nearby villages or stations where they can get steaming hot food.
Sliding open the small window near the front of the carriage, he calls to the driver. "Is there any village or travel station nearby?"
The driver nods. "Yes, young master. There's a traveller's station just a few minutes ahead along the road."
"Good," Merin says. "We'll stop there. Inform the rest of the convoy—everyone could use some food."
The driver shouts the message while skillfully steering the horses, guiding the carriage as the convoy slowly moves forward toward the nearby rest stop. After a few minutes, the convoy halts. Merin steps out, deciding to show his face to the others and discuss the journey ahead with the convoy manager and the leader of the Iron Bear mercenary team.
He instructs the driver, "Call the manager and Zhu An. Have them join me inside the station."
With that, Merin walks to the entrance of the roadside station. A middle-aged man, the owner, greets him with a polite smile.
Merin asks, "What do you have?"
After listening to the brief list of available items, he nods. "Send out a basket of meat buns—two for each person in the convoy. Clear a table for me and two others and bring three full meal sets."
The owner bows and shouts the orders to his staff, then personally leads Merin to a quiet table. As it's still morning, the place is nearly empty, occupied only by two silent men at a corner.
Merin takes a seat. After a few minutes, the convoy manager—an older, thin man with a calm presence—and Zhu An, the burly leader of the Iron Bear mercenaries clad in rugged fur armour, step inside. Spotting him, they approach and sit across from him.
Merin greets them first. "I want to talk about our journey ahead. We'll have to pass through the foggy forest to reach Fog-Lake City. I'd like to know where we plan to stop for the night."
The manager nods thoughtfully. "This is my second time guiding a convoy to Fog-Lake City. Last time, we spent the night in Foggy Town, just outside the forest."
Zhu An grunts. "We can't stop there this time."
Merin raises a brow. "Why not?"
"Because," Zhu An says, voice grim, "Foggy Town is closed. It's been surrounded by the Black Fish Army."
"What?" the manager exclaims. "Why haven't we heard anything? From our town, it's only twelve hours to Foggy Town—news should've reached us by now."
"It happened just yesterday," Zhu An replies. "Too soon for the news to spread back."
Merin narrows his eyes. "Do we know the reason?"
Zhu An shrugs. "What reason could there be for sealing a town with an army? They must've found something… dirty."
The manager's expression tightens. "Then we can't risk spending the night inside the foggy forest. I remember there's a small mound some distance before Foggy Town. It's defensible—we can camp there."
Zhu An nods. "If no one's claimed it, it's our best choice."
Just then, the food arrives. Steaming bowls and fragrant plates are laid before them.
Merin smiles slightly. "Let's eat first. Afterwards, join me in my carriage. We'll continue the discussion there."
He starts eating, his mind already drifting to Foggy Town. "Dirty things." That phrase always means the same in this realm—creatures mutated by spiritual energy poison, or strange manifestations born from it. Ghosts, evil spirits, twisted lifeforms, or corrupted weather.
He knows the holy fire suppresses most of them—about ninety per cent—within its sphere of influence. But the further from the tower, the more likely something slips through. And even within the barrier, outbreaks still occur. Some dirty things spread like diseases, growing stronger with every kill. Others corrupt the very land, bringing plague, drought, floods, endless rain, or even earthquakes. No place is truly safe.
Still, Merin wants to see them. Study them. He's not foolish—he knows he won't cure the poison in this realm just by poking at spiritual mutations. But curiosity drives him. And perhaps, in understanding them, he might find something useful for his true body.
According to the locals, a cultivator who reaches the Holy Fire Realm can purify the poison from spiritual energy completely. Merin doesn't expect to reach that level anytime soon. But a thought lingers: if the entire realm were blanketed by the holy fire's influence, could the poison be cleansed altogether?
Yet the reality is different. Not a single holy fire tower exists beyond those tied to the top forces. And new ones are only built when a force strong enough to rival the existing giants arises. Only then do they venture into the poisoned wilderness, purge it of dirty things, and raise a new tower. A massive barrier spreads around it, a full thousand kilometres in radius. Clearly, there's a reason for this restriction—political, perhaps, or something deeper. And that, too, Merin wants to understand.
He finishes eating, still mulling over the logic behind the towers, then rises and returns to his carriage.
The manager and Zhu An don't follow Merin immediately. The manager begins his rounds, walking along the convoy to inspect the carriages and speak with the workers, making sure everything is in order before they depart.
Zhu An returns to his mercenary team, twenty-five in total. Among them, only six, including himself, are extraordinary warriors. The rest are seasoned fighters, experienced but still ordinary.
As Zhu An approaches, a sharp-eyed woman named Ji Lian looks up and asks, "Leader, why did the young master of the Situ family call you?"
"To discuss where we'll camp for the night," Zhu An replies simply.
Wang Hai, a broad-shouldered fighter with a rough voice, nods. "Makes sense. With Foggy Town closed, we'll need to find a defensible location."
Ji Lian tilts her head. "Then where will we camp?"
"A mound some distance from Foggy Town," Zhu An answers.
Wang Hai frowns. "That spot's too popular. If we're late, some other group will have already taken it. Do we have any alternatives?"
"We'll discuss it in Situ Xing's carriage in a few minutes," Zhu An says.
Wang Hai clicks his tongue and leans closer. "Still, I don't understand why the Situ family set up Situ Xing as the young master. His younger brother, Situ Chen, reached the Bone Refining Realm at just eighteen."
A few others murmur in agreement, careful not to speak too loudly with Situ family members nearby.
Zhu An responds calmly, "The Situ family is a merchant family. The heir must know business, not just cultivation. And Situ Xing's no slouch—he's already reached the Flesh Refining Realm."
Wang Hai lets out a low whistle. "Then in a few years, the whole of Redwood Town might be under their control. Two talented cultivators in the direct bloodline."
Ji Lian nods. "Situ Chen could reach the Spirit Refining Realm. Situ Xing might break into the Vein Refining Realm."
"Exactly," Zhu An says, then pauses. "And I've been thinking of joining the Situ family."
Surprised, the team turns to him. Ji Lian speaks up, "What about us?"
"I want you all to join with me," Zhu An replies seriously. "You know as well as I do—once I hit thirty, if I haven't broken through to the Bone Refining Realm, my chances will start dropping. But with the Situ family's support and resources, I have a better shot."
Wang Hai grins and claps him on the back. "Big brother, with their help, I bet you'll reach it before you turn thirty."
Zhu An nods, his voice firm. "After this mission, I'll talk to Master Situ. If it works out, we move forward together."
Everyone agrees with nods and low voices, their mood lifted with a sense of direction. Just then, the manager's voice calls out over the convoy, "Zhu An! Get your men in position. The convoy is ready to move!"
Zhu An calls back in acknowledgement, already turning to issue orders. He knows there are still many hours left in the day. If they can finalise their night camp now, they can send scouts ahead to secure the location. The earlier, the better.
Inside his carriage, Merin hears a voice from outside.
"Young Master," calls the manager.
"You can enter," Merin replies.
The manager and Zhu An step inside and take seats on the bench facing him. Without wasting time, they begin discussing their night camp. After weighing the risks and options, they agree on a new destination—Yi Village, located some distance from the Foggy Forest.
Though it lies close to dangerous territory, the village is known for its stability. If they pay a reasonable fee, the villagers allow travellers to camp near or even around the settlement.
Yi Village is not an ordinary place—it was established by the Yi family, a martial arts clan with several elders and its head in the Vein Refining Realm. Rumours claim the clan head has refined his body to the Silver Body level and could break through to the Organ Refining Realm at any time.
With such powerful figures guarding it, the village is one of the few safe places near the forest.
Merin nods at the plan. "If I pay more, I'll stay inside the village itself."
The others agree this is for the best. With that settled, the manager and Zhu An excuse themselves and return to their duties.
Once alone, Merin closes his eyes and resumes cultivating. His mind refocuses, his muscles begin to vibrate again, and slowly, the stillness inside the carriage gives way to the quiet hum of flesh strengthening under focused will.
---
Dream Domain 36th
Song Qi
Song Qi opens his eyes and sees the rough, rocky ceiling of the cave above him. Dim light leaks through a crack near the entrance. He stretches slightly but remains seated for a moment, staring upward in silence. He's still deep in the forest, hidden in the hills. Despite having learned the local language, he hasn't gone down to interact with the village yet.
It's not that he doesn't want to. He just doesn't know what to say.
If he told them he got lost, how would he explain arriving from the west, through a stretch of wild forest filled with demon beasts, rather than the east, where a proper path leads in and out of the village? No ordinary person could make it through the western woods alone, not without dying along the way. But if he claimed to have followed the eastern path, he couldn't say he was lost.
Either way, it would raise too many questions.
There's only one way he could make it believable: reveal that he's an ascendant.
A flicker runs through his right hand. For a brief second, the skin darkens and roughens, turning into bark, the texture of wood spreading up to his wrist before fading back into flesh. That's the proof.
He's been training in the wooden fist technique, a spiritual art he began practising after Ivy mentioned that ascendants in this realm can transform their bodies into parts of beasts, plants, and more. If he shows the villagers his arm turning entirely to wood up to the elbow, they'll believe he's an ascendant. And if he's an ascendant, then his presence in the forest—his survival—makes sense.
Yawning, Song Qi rises. Judging by the light outside, the sun has already been up for hours. He's still not used to this realm's time cycle. In his old world, it would only be dawn now.
He goes about his morning routine. With swift, silent movements, he kills a rabbit, roasts it over a small fire, and eats. Afterwards, he walks to a particular tree near the cave—a light green-barked spiritual tree. It's the only one of its kind in this part of the forest. He doesn't know its name, but that doesn't matter. To train the wooden fist technique, he must comprehend the tree's vital energy and simulate that energy with his own, particularly around his hands.
Only then can his flesh imitate the nature of wood.
Sitting beneath its leafy crown, he closes his eyes and focuses. His mind reaches out, feeling the subtle pulses of life that move through the tree's body. He's already grasped about forty per cent of its essence, but the deeper layers of comprehension resist him. They grow more complex, more abstract, as if the tree's soul hides its core from shallow seekers.
He estimates he'll need a full week to reach the required level.
That doesn't bother him. The elders never gave a deadline for building the spiritual temple, and he has time. Plenty of it.
For now, he trains.
-----
Ivy
A crowd of boys and girls gathers at the foot of a mountain shrouded in pale fog. Today is the day of the Music Mountain Gate's trial—a once-a-year event where anyone under twenty can attempt to join the sect. Dozens have come from nearby towns and villages, hopeful and anxious.
Among the crowd stands a golden-haired girl. Ivy.
She only heard about the sect yesterday. The town she arrived in buzzed with talk of the trial. After a few quiet inquiries, she learned the Music Mountain Gate only accepts those under twenty, and that the trial has two parts. Those who have awakened mind energy—what this world calls spiritual consciousness—can skip the first test entirely and begin from the second.
That was all Ivy needed to know.
Joining a native force could give her access to the inner workings of this realm. She would learn how ascendants fight, how they cultivate, and how they live. More importantly, she could gather information quietly. Because eventually, she would have to fight. And if her method of magic was too foreign, too strange, the natives might turn on her before she could even defend herself.
She already knows that bounties have been placed for information regarding the strange portals and falling golden lights. Some powerful forces clearly understand something about the invasion and are trying to keep it hidden. That doesn't mean they've stopped searching.
So she hides in plain sight.
Before coming here, she consumed all the magic energy inside her. Now, even as her body instinctively tries to regenerate it, she suppresses the flow completely. As long as no magical energy forms within her, no one should suspect a thing.
She glances around. The crowd is growing quieter, tension thick in the morning air. Everyone is watching the mountain.
Then she sees it.
A large, colourful bird bursts from the fog, its wings flashing with streaks of red, green, and blue. It swoops down in a wide arc, heading for a platform beside the long stone stairs that wind up into the fog.
As it lands, the bird transforms—feathers shrinking, light swirling around its body—until a woman stands in its place. Her long robe flows like mist, and her hair glimmers with streaks of green and blue. She speaks, and though the crowd numbers in the hundreds, her voice reaches Ivy as if whispered directly into her ear—clear, melodic, and warm.
"The trial of the Music Mountain Gate will begin shortly," the woman says. "But first—those who have awakened their mind energy, come forward and stand behind me."
Ivy gently taps the shoulder of the boy in front of her. "I've awakened my mind energy," she says. He steps aside, and one by one, others notice and make way for her. She walks through the parting crowd and joins the area behind the woman. Around twenty others stand there already, calm, composed, some curious, some proud.
The woman turns again, eyes sweeping the crowd. "Everyone who's awakened their mind energy is behind me now, yes?" The silence from the crowd confirms it.
"Then, the rest of you—begin the climb. Only those who reach the top within three hours may proceed to the second test."
At her words, the remaining participants surge toward the stairs, climbing in quick strides or careful steps. Some rush; others pace themselves. As they disappear up the misty path, the woman lifts her hand and whistles—sharp and clear.
From the fog above, a group of large white cranes descends—exactly the same number as those who stepped forward. They glide in smooth arcs and land beside the woman, wings folding with grace.
She turns toward Ivy and the others. "Each of you, choose a crane and take your seat."
Ivy steps forward and climbs onto the back of one crane. Its feathers feel soft, warm beneath her hands. One by one, the others mount theirs. When all are ready, the woman once again transforms into a vibrant bird and takes to the sky. The cranes lift off in unison, following her through the fog.
As they rise, the mist thins—and a breathtaking sight unfolds before Ivy's eyes.
The mountain beyond the fog is lush with life. Colourful birds flutter between towering trees, their songs carried by the wind. Hidden among the branches are buildings carved into wood and stone. Ivy spots curved rooftops, open terraces, and glinting wind chimes. The stone staircase below leads to a wide, flat plateau halfway up the mountain. More buildings stand there, neatly arranged, with disciples in pale robes walking between them.
The woman-bird descends, landing on the plateau. The cranes follow and settle softly onto the grass. Ivy dismounts, her boots crunching gently on the ground, and the cranes rise again, soaring back into the sky.
The woman returns to her human form and faces them once more. "The second test will begin after the first trial ends. Until then, you may explore this area. Do not enter the mountain paths that lead elsewhere."
With that, she leaves them.
Ivy stands still for a few minutes, watching the disciples pass by. Most are young, dressed in light robes embroidered with silver threads. They seem calm, focused. The wooden buildings nearby are elegant but simple—practice halls, resting pavilions, open courtyards.
Boredom nudges her feet. She starts walking, hands in her sleeves, exploring the small space and observing the disciples of Music Mountain Gate as they move about their routines. As she walks around the plateau, she comes across a huge building, and the sound of people shouting comes from inside.