The golden mist of the southern valley didn't dissipate; it thickened into a luminous, swirling fog that swallowed sound and stretched perception. Feng Xiao and the trembling youth led Han Li deeper into it, their forms becoming ghosts ahead of him. The air grew heavy, not with menace, but with a thrumming, chaotic energy—the cacophony of hundreds of cultivators gathered in one place.
One moment, there was only mist and rock. The next, the fog parted like a curtain.
Han Li stepped into another world.
It was a temporary city born of ambition. The basin between two sloping cliffs was a riot of color, sound, and swirling auras. Pavilions of shimmering silk, held aloft by simple stabilization talismans, stood beside ragged tents of oiled hide. Cultivators in every conceivable garb—from the pristine white robes of righteous sects to the beast-hide cloaks of mountain hermits—milled, bartered, argued, and postured. Some, at the Foundation Establishment level or beyond, didn't deign to walk. They glided a few inches above the pressed earth, their spiritual pressure creating subtle ripples in the crowd, clearing casual space around them.
Vendors' cries cut through the din:
"Freshly refined Qi-Gathering Pills!No impurities! Last batch!"
"Protection talismans from the Jade Screen Sect!Withstand a peak Body Refinement strike!"
"Identify your spirit beast egg!Divination service available!"
The stalls were a glittering array of temptation. Pills in jade bottles glowed with inner light. Talismans etched on vibrant paper pulsed with dormant power. Low-grade flying swords hovered on display, their edges singing faintly. The sheer quantity of resources, most of it low or mid-grade but still vastly beyond mortal ken, was staggering.
Han Li's eyes, trained by a true physician and a demonic hoard, swept over the wares. He felt no urge to buy. The pills were crude compared to his own refined stock. The talismans were simplistic. The artifacts were flashy but brittle. To these wandering cultivators, they were treasures. To him, they were distractions.
He turned to give Feng Xiao and the youth their promised herbs, a small price for a guided path. But when he looked, they were gone. Vanished into the shifting crowd as if they had never been. Were they that frightened? he wondered, a flicker of cold amusement passing through him. They'd chosen the uncertainty of the wilds over remaining a moment longer in his presence. It was the wisest decision they'd made all day.
He moved deeper into the throng, his senses alert. He stopped near a knot of young cultivators, their faces pale with anxiety. They were all in the Tier 3-5 range, their robes mismatched and patched.
"...they test with the Spirit Root Crystal," a thin boy was saying, voice tight. "My uncle served in the Profound Sky Academy kitchens. He said those with 'False Spirit Roots'—ones that flare bright but have no depth—are rejected on the spot, sent to the outer mines."
Another girl wrung her hands. "What if mine is false? I've spent everything to get here!"
"Don't worry," an older boy said with false bravado. "Yours will be true. It has to be."
Han Li moved away, the seed of a different anxiety sprouting in his own mind. He knew what his spirit root was.
Senior, he thought, channeling his intent inward to the miniature tower pendant. They test spirit roots. Mine is the Celestial Chaotic Genesis Root. Useless for cultivation, worse than a False Root. What will the crystal show?
The senior's voice, languid and scholarly, echoed in his mind. 'Hmph. Worry? The crude 'Spirit Root Crystal' these minor sects use probes for elemental affinity and spiritual capacity. It measures the 'Heavenly' grade at best. Your root… is from a myth. It exists in a realm their toy cannot comprehend.'
So it will show nothing? That's even worse!
'Foolish child. You have some control now. When you grasp the crystal, do not let it probe you. Instead, surge a wisp of your Celestial Qi into it. You can make it show any elemental combination you wish, at any grade of 'True' sprit root, but i suggest three attribute true sprit root it is less attention catching and it is deserving to join any sect.
Relief, sharp and sweet, washed through Han Li. Thank you, senior.
'Do not thank me yet. This deception is your first true step onto the stage. Remember, you also have the Ascension Token for Drifting Mist Valley. Using it for entry here would bypass the tests, but it would also mark you as a special case, a legacy disciple. You would invite endless scrutiny, jealousy, and probing questions from day one. It is a shield that attracts more arrows than it blocks. Wait. Build a foundation first. When you are stronger—when I have remade your foundation to be as hard as diamond, as sharp as a blade, as fast as light—then you may claim your legacy.'
The wisdom was clear. Han Li nodded imperceptibly. Understood.
His path took him toward the cheaper, more desperate end of the market. Here, the stalls were just blankets on the ground. And there, he saw her.
A girl, maybe sixteen, knelt on a worn blanket. Her clothes were clean but thin, her eyes red-rimmed. Before her lay a single, well-used but carefully preserved talisman brush with fading spirit-receptive bristles, and a thin, handwritten book titled "Beginner's Guide to Glyph Pathways." She wasn't crying, but her voice broke as she called out, her words swallowed by the market's roar. "Talisman brush and the foundation book! Please, I'll negotiate the price!"
A passing man in fine robes sneered. "Who would buy such trash? Real talisman masters are born in sects, not made from roadside scrolls."
Another, a scarred rogue cultivator, tossed a single, dull low-grade spirit stone onto her blanket. It landed with a thud. "I'll give you this. Take it or leave it."
A third leered. "Give them to me for free, little flower. I might give you something better in return."
Han Li watched, a cold stone settling in his stomach. Look how arrogant they are, he thought. If I didn't have the senior's knowledge, if I were just a talented mortal boy with this book… I might have given anything for it, no matter the price.
'What do you mean?' the senior's voice cut in, faintly amused. 'Do you think I, a master of celestial artifacts, know anything about such mortal, paper-and-ink talismans?'
You are a master of formations and artifacts! Han Li protested mentally. I don't know anything about formal formations or artifact crafting, even as the disciple of a Celestial Artifact Master! This book… it's a start. The only start I might get.
'Hmph. Sentimental. Go buy it if you wish. It is your silver.'
Han Li stepped forward, cutting between the leering cultivator and the girl. The man opened his mouth to snarl, but one look at Han Li's calm, utterly cold Tier 9 eyes—eyes that had just seen men turn to ash—made him shut it and slink away.
Han Li knelt, bringing himself to her level. "Sister. What do you need in exchange for these?"
The girl looked up, wary hope battling with fresh fear. "Handsome… brother? Do you really want to buy? Or are you just reading me like the others?"
Han Li saw a tear finally escape and trace a path through the dust on her cheek. He did something unexpected. He reached out and, with a gentle motion of his sleeve, wiped it away. The gesture was neither intimate nor condescending; it was simply kind. "Don't cry. Tell me what you need them for. Truly."
The dam broke. The story spilled out in a whispered rush. "It's for my older brother. He… he was injured in a spirit beast hunt. His dantian wasn't shattered, but it was cracked. He leaks spiritual energy constantly. He grows weaker every day. He needs high-grade Energy Consolidation Pills just to stay awake, to not… fade away. I sold everything from our home. This brush was our father's. The book is all I have left to sell."
Han Li listened, his physician's mind clicking through diagnoses. A cracked dantian, energy leakage. It was a delicate, debilitating injury, often a death sentence for a poor cultivator.
He held up a hand. "Wait." He reached into his pouch, his mind racing through alchemical formulas. He retrieved two vials: one containing a Bone-Maturing Pill (for structural integrity), another a high-grade Energy Recovery Pill.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and precise. "Do not give him these pills directly. Grind one half of the Bone Pill and one quarter of the Energy Pill together. Boil them in three cups of pure water until it reduces to one cup. Let him drink it at dawn. It will form a temporary, flexible seal over the crack and recycle the leaking energy back into his meridians. It is not a cure. But it will stabilize him. It should last… a year. Perhaps two."
He handed her the two vials. The girl stared at them as if they were fragments of the sun.
"For a permanent cure," Han Li continued, "the crack must be fused and the dantian reborn. That requires a catalyst herb of immense Yang vitality. A mature Sun Flame Blazing Grass. It is… exceptionally rare."
The girl clutched the vials to her chest, then suddenly dropped forward, her forehead touching the dirt of the blanket in a profound kowtow. "Thank you! Thank you, handsome brother!"
"Don't call me that," Han Li said, helping her up. "I'm Han Li."
"But handsome brother, you are handsome," she said, a genuine, watery smile breaking through.
He sighed. "Fine. Call me whatever you wish." He picked up the brush and the book. They hummed faintly with care and residual, humble intent.
She stood, ready to flee with her treasure. "Wait," Han Li called.
She froze, fear flashing again. "Brother… do you regret it?"
"No. Firstly, you didn't tell me your name. Secondly, I want to give you this." He produced another vial—a High-Grade Condensation Pill, perfect for her own cultivation if she was careful. "You will need strength too, to care for him."
She took it, tears flowing freely now. "I am Han Ming."
Han Li's eyebrows rose. "Han? Is your surname Han, too?"
"Yes!"
A strange sense of kinship, thin but real, tugged at him. "Okay, Han Ming. Take these. Be well."
"Thank you, senior brother!" she said, then turned and vanished into the crowd, hope giving wings to her feet.
Han Li stored the talisman book and brush. They were crude, but they were a beginning. A foundation of knowledge his celestial senior disdained, but that he, a mortal-born cultivator, desperately needed.
At that moment, a deep, resonant, and utterly silencing sound echoed across the entire basin.
Tong———
It was not a bell, but the single, pure strike of a massive, ancient jade chime. The sound vibrated in the bones, in the dantian, sweeping away all chatter and thought. Every head turned.
Tang———
A second strike. The shimmering market, the bustling crowd, seemed to waver like a mirage.
Ting———
A third, higher, clearer note. And as it faded, the mist at the far end of the basin began to part not naturally, but with deliberate, majestic purpose, rolling back like colossal gates.
The market crowd, as one, began to flow toward that opening, the temporary stalls forgotten, all personal dramas submerged in a sudden, collective awe. The Immortal Gathering was officially beginning.
In moments, the area where Han Li stood was nearly empty. Only he and the distant, scurrying figure of Han Ming remained for a second before she too was gone. He was alone again, but now on the threshold. He tightened his grip on the simple talisman brush in his pouch, took a deep breath of the charged air, and followed the tide, moving toward the parted mist where his future would be tested.