Told to wait outside, Li Xun dared not wander. Spotting a massive ancient tree in the courtyard — its trunk requiring several men to encircle — he made his way beneath it and sat down to think.
The outcome of the ceremony had more or less matched his expectations. But upon dissecting the process in detail, it had been anything but smooth. The slightest misstep at any point could have triggered a total collapse.
Qingming, Qingxu, the Seven Swords of Lianxia, and even Qingyin atop Zuowang Peak — all were top-tier True Person stage cultivators. Leaving aside their hidden depths and schemes, just the sheer intensity of their spiritual presence was enough to crush him.
He now began to wonder: Was I too lucky? Surrounded by beings who could seemingly peer into the soul, he had somehow kept his secrets intact. Have I really cultivated my mind to the point where even gods and immortals can't see through me?
This thought made him chuckle quietly — but halfway through, the smile froze on his face.
Because even he himself didn't fully know his own capabilities. Sohow could others have possibly known? Especially when he had been only eight years old, immature and ignorant of the world?
This doubt had lingered in his mind for years, vague and elusive — until now, when it finally struck him with clarity.
There's something else going on here…
The sun dipped westward, the courtyard mottled with the interweaving shadows of flowers and trees. The darkness gathered faster than expected. Li Xun remained seated, motionless, for over three hours, until finally, the meeting within ended.
The door opened, and the second-generation disciples filed out in a stream. A few glanced his way and gave polite smiles before dispersing.
Li Xun quickly rose, standing with his hands respectfully at his sides, head lowered.
Then a figure came to stand before him — tall and upright, blocking the last sliver of sunlight. A shadow fell completely over Li Xun.
"Let's go," came the first words from his new master.
Li Xun didn't dare speak much. He replied softly and fell in line behind Lin Ge, walking with proper form. They exited Hall of Undawned Clarity, heading west for several li until they arrived at a new location.
It was a modest two-story building. Behind it, a narrow path led to the nearby cliff face — which turned out to be a sheer precipice.
The house was surrounded by dense trees, giving it an air of quiet seclusion — though it bordered on excessive isolation.
When Li Xun stepped inside, his eyes lit up.
Though he hadn't been on the mountain long, he'd learned that most sect dwellings reflected the frugal, focused lifestyle of cultivators. Rooms were typically plain, practical — his place at the Hall of Beginnings had little more than a few beds, a table, and a crude tea set.
But this… this master of his was clearly a different sort of person.
Every visible piece of furniture was carved from fine wood, polished to a subtle sheen. The décor was sparse but refined, with each antique or artifact a genuine treasure. The whole layout felt less like a monk's retreat and more like a noble estate — yet instead of worldly luxury, it exuded cultivated elegance.
Li Xun's eyes were sharp — one glance told him that these items had been frequently handled and admired. Clearly, their owner was none other than Lin Ge himself.
A cultivator who has stepped onto the path of immortality, yet spends his days playing with such worldly trinkets… No wonder rumors said Lin Ge's cultivation had declined sharply over the last century.
Yet instead of worry, Li Xun felt a flicker of hope. A man with attachments is easier to deal with than someone like Qingxu or Qingming, whose depths are unfathomable.
Of course, he also wanted a good teacher to guide his cultivation — to eventually achieve immortality, soar to the heavens. But for now, survival came first. If he could learn the Lingxi Art quickly, it might well mean the difference between life and death.
A master like this… if I can cater to his preferences and win his favor, mastering the Lingxi Art within a year shouldn't be out of reach.
While Li Xun was busy scheming, Lin Ge did not pause. He exited through a side door and headed toward the narrow path behind the house. Li Xun hurried after him.
At the cliff's edge, Lin Ge didn't stop. His feet moved as though on solid ground, stepping downward in midair. After descending more than ten zhang, he turned and entered what was clearly a cave dwelling he had personally carved out.
Li Xun cursed inwardly. He lacked Lin Ge's skill in flight. Worse, it seemed his master had no intention of helping him.
Left with no choice, he gritted his teeth, gathered his breath, and leapt. When he estimated the distance right, he activated his inner energy midair, forming a shallow arc before landing — just barely — on a protruding stone ledge.
"Your cultivation level isn't bad... but your Light Body Technique? Absolutely tragic." Lin Ge stood off to the side, giving Li Xun a proper look for the first time.
Li Xun scratched his head with a sheepish smile. "I'm not too familiar with most of the practical techniques, to be honest."
"Inner breath is the foundation; techniques are just tools. As long as your base is solid, the fancy stuff can wait." With that, Lin Ge turned and walked into his cave residence.
Li Xun, out of habit, gave the restrictive formations at the cave entrance a closer look. The formation looked like a blend of "Light Pattern," "Mountain Pattern," and "Water Pattern"—together forming a delicate landscape painting. The way it played with light and shadow was especially clever… he suspected there was some "Obscure Pattern" technique mixed in too.
Well, there goes my free time… He pushed down the itch of excitement in his chest and hurried to catch up with Lin Ge.
This was actually his first time stepping into a cultivation cave personally crafted by a cultivator. But it wasn't quite the heavenly wonderland he'd imagined—no glowing white jade walls, no floating spirit orbs, no rare pills or secret scrolls lying around.
Just a spacious main hall, a pill room, a quiet meditation chamber, and a small library. That was it.
The only thing out of the ordinary was the lighting. The cave went deep into the mountain, yet every room was bright as daylight with no clear source of illumination. Everything was crisp and clear, like sunlight—but without the sun.
Lin Ge brought him to the library. The books inside were mostly daoist texts and cultivation notes, but more than half were titles Li Xun had never seen before.
"This includes the full version of the Lingxi Art and my personal notes. I'll pass the core technique to you later. From now on, you can come here to study and practice. Got anything to say?"
Li Xun's face froze for a moment.
His eyes landed on the second shelf, packed with titles like "Intro to Lingxi," "Entry-Level Insights," "Resonance Logs," and more. His heart churned with a strange mix of excitement, dread, gratitude, and just a bit of panic. Still, he smiled and said, "Didn't think this art was that complicated…"
"The 'Lingxi Art' is tough to start, hard to stabilize, but easy to master once you're in. Question is—do you have the patience? You spent seven years climbing a mountain. What's seventy more to get this art right?"
Li Xun composed himself and gave a deep bow. "I won't disappoint you, Master."
Lin Ge responded mildly, "No need for any formal ceremony. As long as you're sincere, that's enough. From now on, this is where you'll cultivate. I'll teach you the basics tomorrow. After that, you're on your own. Just send me a list of questions every month—I'll answer them then."
After passing him the entry method for accessing the cave, Lin Ge waved him out.
Li Xun mumbled a response and backed away, but just as he reached the doorway, Lin Ge casually asked, "How far have you gotten with the Qi chapter?"
"I've reached the final stance of 'Deep Sea, Sunken Azure.' I was planning to start circulating my internal energy to condense my core and break through the barrier soon."
"Not bad. I was thinking of helping you with the breakthrough, but if things are already coming together on their own, better to let it happen naturally—don't want to mess up your foundation. Go handle your breakthrough first. Come back after. You'll get more out of this place then."
Li Xun nodded, seeing Lin Ge had nothing more to say, and quietly left. Just before he stepped outside, he glanced back and noticed Lin Ge's lazy, almost indifferent expression had deepened, like some invisible weight pressing down on him.
Li Xun felt a flicker of something, but it was instantly drowned by the surge of joy welling up in his chest. The Lingxi Art… it's mine now. Two years. Just two more years…
He climbed back up the cliff. The setting sun lit the peaks blood red, casting waves of brilliant clouds across the horizon. The glow painted his face crimson.
It was winter on Lianxia Mountain, known for the breathtaking sight of snow-capped peaks glowing under the evening sky—what locals called "Crimson Clouds on a Thousand Snowy Mountains." At dawn and dusk, when the mountains were buried in snow, the rising or fading light would wash the peaks in cascading color—light swirling like rivers of fire, luck and fortune rolling in. From atop Guanxia (Cloudview) Peak, you could see the clouds rise like waves, boundless and endless.
It's said that the famed "Crimson Shroud Sword Art" of the Mingxin Sword Sect was inspired by this very scene. Among the sect's combat arts, it's a top-tier technique. When wielded at full power, the blade is said to summon tens of thousands of layers of red haze in a single sweep.
Li Xun was still far from mastering a sword art of that level—but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the view.
Just last night, Shan Zhi had dragged him up here, insisting they check out the winter scene from Guanxia Peak.
At the time, Li Xun had wondered why Shan Zhi suddenly had a taste for nature watching. Now, it all made sense. The scenery wasn't the point—someone in the scenery was.
Today was when Senior Sister Qi Bi was set to practice the Crimson Shroud Sword Art. According to Shan Zhi's intel, she'd been stuck at a bottleneck for over three months now. Lately, she'd been coming to Guanxia Peak more often, trying to draw inspiration from the mountain vistas—hoping the breathtaking sights might spark the breakthrough she needed.
As for Shan Zhi dragging Li Xun up here? That was probably just an excuse—to dodge the inevitable questioning from Senior Sister Qi Bi.
Then again, everyone in the Mingxin Sword Sect knew Qi Bi's gentle temperament. Whether it was Shan Zhi or Li Xun, in her eyes they were just a couple of clueless kids. Even if she saw right through the flimsy excuse, she wouldn't call them out.
Which is why, right now, Shan Zhi could comfortably pretend he was just "appreciating the scenery"—when really, he was admiring the beauty of a sword dancing like a rainbow, wielded by a woman as elegant as jade.
Li Xun wasn't in a bad mood either. A high-level sword technique like the Crimson Shroud Sword Art had always fascinated him. And since he had deep insights into compound "Misty Patterns" already, he only needed a glance or two to get drawn straight into the sword art's mysteries.
For each type of restrictive formation in the Mingxin Sword Sect, there is a dedicated, unique mystical technique—not just improvisation, but a fully developed, matched system of knowledge. Each one unique, but sharing a common foundation that reflected the sect's depth and consistency.
Li Xun might've been young, but even Qingxu had praised him. He had a natural gift for studying restrictive formation arts. The only thing he'd lacked was a systematic education.
Now that two months had passed since formally entering the sect as a disciple, he'd already filled in the gaps. To call him the foremost expert on restrictive formation techniques among the third-generation disciples wouldn't be an exaggeration at all.
Drawing connections came easily to him. He could already see traces of Misty Pattern restrictive formations embedded within the Crimson Shroud Sword Art—especially in the defensive forms, where the flowing patterns were so cohesive they practically spelled themselves out to him. Even the fragmented threads hidden in offensive stances were beginning to piece themselves together in his mind.
If Qingxu and the others could see this, they'd be stunned again for sure. That's what talent plus passion gets you.
Li Xun had always had remarkable talent, but even more so, he truly enjoyed this stuff. People say that once you study something deeply enough, it becomes a kind of pleasure all on its own. For Li Xun, that was already the case.
No matter how complex a restrictive formation was, to him it was just another puzzle waiting to be cracked—then reshaped into something new. That rush, that high… it was addicting. He was hooked. Completely absorbed, and loving every second of it.
Time passed like flowing clouds—while Qi Bi quietly contemplated her bottleneck, and while Shan Zhi and Li Xun each lost themselves in their own obsessions.
The crimson light faded from the snow-topped peaks, and the arrival of the two boys hadn't brought Qi Bi the breakthrough she hoped for. Her bottleneck remained. A faint hint of disappointment showed on her face.
But true to her nature, she was calm and patient. She quickly reined in her emotions, gave them a gentle smile, and politely said goodbye.
Shan Zhi couldn't even think of what to say. He could only force a grin as she turned to leave. When he looked back at Li Xun, the guy was crouched in the snow, drawing… something. The patterns were dense and complex. Just looking at them gave Dan Zhi a headache.
Maybe he didn't even hear Qi Bi say goodbye just now. Shan Zhi frowned and snapped, "Li Xun! We're leaving!"
Li Xun knew Shan Zhi was in a bad mood and didn't dare push it. He jumped up, made a couple of light-hearted jokes to ease the tension, then followed him off the peak.
They'd barely left for a few minutes when a flash of sword light streaked across the summit—Qi Bi had returned.
"I can't lose that bead!"
She looked flustered. The bead she mentioned was a keepsake from Wen Hai—an ornament with a tiny restrictive formation inscribed by his own hand. It didn't hold much power, but it carried his heartfelt affection. There was no way she was going to let it get lost.
Luckily, she had sharp eyes. It didn't take long before she spotted the bead wedged in a rock crevice. She let out a small breath of relief—but just then, her gaze drifted to the snow-covered ground nearby.
There were faint, intricate patterns etched in the snow. She paused. Something about them looked… familiar.
"Did that little junior brother draw these?"