The Clearwind Pavilion was famed for its unique talismans, etched with wind charms. Yet talisman craft was a thin trade, the profits meager, and rivals many. Its sect remained modest in wealth and power.
Qi Ling Sect, however, was different.
Throughout the neighboring provinces, the Five-Wood Puppets of Qi Ling were renowned. Each puppet, when refined to mid-Refinement stage, was the equal of a magical artifact, worth dozens of spirit stones. More than tools, they were heirlooms—defenders of clans, guardians of legacies. For any sect, their value could not be overstated.
Indeed, across the entire continent, few sects could rival Qi Ling's mastery of puppet arts. The monopoly was near total, and the profit staggering. If not for the two Foundation Establishment Patriarchs who watched over the sect, such inheritance would long ago have been seized by covetous powers.
Fortune alone spared them another peril: the sect did not possess a method for forging Foundation-level puppets. Were such a secret known, the hegemonic Linglong Sect would have claimed it without hesitation.
Elder Yun waited until the disciples had regained composure, then continued:
"Snowyin Valley has commissioned nearly a hundred puppets from our sect, to be completed within five years. Our hands are too few. Thus the Patriarchs have altered the duty cycles.
"Those I name will be assigned to sect chores accordingly. Any who dare evade duty will be cast into the Death Cavern."
A chill ran through the hall.
The Death Cavern was no empty threat. It was a forbidden hollow infested with specters and foul spirits. Once trapped within, even a living cultivator might be gnawed upon until body, soul, and mind were ruined. Survival meant only madness.
"Zhao Mosheng—you will serve in the Forge Hall as a fire-keeper."
"Huang Xuan—you will work in the Spiritwood Grove as a cutter."
…
"Ruan Jinghu—you are assigned as gatekeeper of the Puppet Hall on Qi Peak."
Jealous murmurs rippled. The Puppet Hall was where finished constructs were sealed—an enviable posting, light of burden and rich in opportunity.
"Li Yuan—you will serve in the Puppet Hall of Ling Peak as a seal-carver."
One by one, nearly twenty disciples were sent to their posts. Without delay, each departed to begin a month's service.
Li Yuan made his way toward Ling Peak's Puppet Hall. Unlike the heavily guarded hall on Qi Peak, Ling Peak's was more open. Here, puppets already forged were inscribed with outer seals before being sent onward to Qi Peak, where elders engraved the core prohibitions.
At the gate, he showed his disciple token. The guards inspected it briefly before granting entry.
Heat struck him at once—air thick with the burn of molten metal and smoldering incense. The hall connected directly to the forge rooms, and freshly completed puppets required immediate inscription.
This was no unfamiliar task. Li Yuan had often been assigned to carve seals in the past, and his hands were steady with practice.
Inside stood rows of towering puppets, each over ten feet high. Barely eight or nine disciples labored upon them, eyes narrowed in concentration as spirit-wrought lines of power took shape beneath their hands.
Elder Feng, who oversaw the hall, was an aged man with silver whiskers and sharp eyes. Seeing only Li Yuan enter, he frowned.
"Just you, boy? Do you take me for a fool?"
Li Yuan bowed deeply. "Elder Feng, forgive me. Others will surely follow. I hurried ahead, hoping to learn from your wisdom."
The elder's brows eased, his frown melting into the ghost of a smile. "Mm. So it is. Very well. Of this batch—twelve A-Wood puppets—you shall carve three.
"This is the Thirty-Six Seal Formation. Memorize it well."
He pressed a jade slip into Li Yuan's hands.
Li Yuan accepted it with both palms, smiling gratefully. "Your kindness, Elder, will not be forgotten. I will give my utmost."
"Good. If you falter, come and ask. Better to learn than to mar the work."
Li Yuan bowed once more before approaching the looming shell of an A-Wood puppet. Placing the jade slip to his brow, he let his spirit sense dive within, absorbing the complex formation.
Such secrets were not entrusted lightly. But the Thirty-Six Outer Seals were only part of the craft, and without the Core Seal from Qi Peak, no puppet could ever stir. The forging method itself was another hidden inheritance. To steal the art, one would need all three pieces—forging, outer seals, and core—and even then a final truth was required.
Li Yuan alone knew this. For after glimpsing the True Scripture of Ten Thousand Puppets, he had learned the hidden fourth step: a puppet was not complete until a soul was bound within. Only then did wood and metal truly live.
For now, his cultivation was shallow. Power could not be forced overnight. But puppets—puppets could fill the gap.
He already commanded twenty-four seals. With practice, he could inscribe the full Thirty-Six. Seal-carving was like talisman drawing, guided by spirit and will. But unlike talismans, failed attempts left no ruin—only wasted energy. A mercy that allowed even early Refinement disciples to shoulder the task.
Li Yuan bent to his work, spirit burning with quiet determination. Once, he had carved only to fulfill sect duty. Now he carved for himself.
For duty one works with weary hands. For oneself, the heart sharpens.
And though his progress in spellcraft had faltered, here his talent shone bright. He absorbed the Thirty-Six Seals with speed, his strokes firm and true. Nine lines each day, steady as a metronome. In four or five days, he could complete a puppet's outer seals.
So he worked, tireless. Within a month he had finished five A-Wood puppets—more than double his share. Elder Feng praised him openly, joy plain upon his weathered face.
At month's end, Li Yuan stumbled from the hall pale and exhausted, alongside the other weary disciples of his cycle. Few spoke; each returned to their caves in silence, seeking rest.
Pausing at the foot of the mountain, Li Yuan glanced back as a fresh wave of disciples trudged into the halls, their month about to begin.
"This sight," he murmured, "feels strangely familiar."
He lay beneath a tree and let sleep take him, safe in the knowledge that no blood could be spilled within Qi Ling Peak.
Yet sleep carried him elsewhere.
Once more he stood within the hidden realm of the Myriad Wood. The stele loomed, but the three scriptures inscribed upon it were gone. Only a few new lines remained, glowing faintly:
The Myriad Wood Realm of Xuan Yuan: To nourish life through essence, to guide life through destiny.Those who safeguard Heaven's Qi may enter.Heirs of this legacy, if you would walk the path to immortality, you must guard the sect with loyal heart. Only then may you draw destiny, endure nine turns, condense the Golden Core, and ascend toward the Nascent Soul.
Li Yuan's heart shook.
The Heavenly Qi Sect?
By ancient law, only those with a True Monarch could claim the title of sect. Even Linglong, despite its Golden Core masters, was but a "faction." And to bear the character Heaven—that bespoke a legacy vast beyond reckoning.
Yet no such sect existed in today's cultivation world. None save…
Qi Ling Sect.
Breath caught in his throat. His humble sect, long thought modest despite its wealth, was the heir of a lineage that once dared call itself Heaven.
He looked to the stele, then to the forests of treasure stretching behind it. His fists clenched. Stepping forward, he pressed his palm to the stone and swore:
"I, Li Yuan, disciple of Qi Ling, accept the charge of the ancients. If one day I forge my immortal foundation, I will defend this sect with all my strength."
The stele pulsed with light.
And the forest whispered.
(End of Chapter 3)