The breakfast ended without ceremony.
There were no raised voices, no final barbs wrapped in silk. Just the soft clink of porcelain, the measured rise and fall of breath, and the unspoken awareness that something fundamental had shifted—even if no one yet dared name it.
When the servants began clearing the table, Yueying placed her napkin aside and rose.
"Father," she said, turning slightly toward the head of the table. "I would like to return to my room."
Shen Jinzhao looked up at once.
"To rest?" he asked, tone neutral but attentive.
"Yes," Yueying replied. "I don't wish to overexert myself so soon after recovering."
It was a sensible request. A careful one.
Lady Shen nodded immediately, relief flickering beneath her composed smile. "Of course. Recovery must be paced. I'll have the servants—"
"That won't be necessary," Shen Jinzhao said calmly. "She knows her limits."
His gaze settled briefly on Yueying, assessing—not doubting. Then he inclined his head.
"Go," he said. "If you need anything, send word."
Yueying bowed lightly. "Thank you, Father."
The awareness of her sister's gaze pressed against her back as she turned away—sharp, restless, searching for cracks that were no longer there.
Shen Rui watched her leave, his expression thoughtful, but he said nothing.
Neither did she.
-x-
The walk back to her quarters was quiet.
Servants bowed and stepped aside as she passed, their eyes lingering just long enough to confirm what rumors would soon whisper through the manor: the Second Miss no longer moved like someone made of glass.
Yueying kept her pace measured. She did not hurry. She did not drag.
She was being watched.
When she reached the door to her room, a maid stepped forward instinctively. "Second Miss, shall I—"
"No," Yueying said gently. "I'll rest alone."
The maid hesitated, then bowed. "As you wish."
The door slid shut behind her.
The room settled into stillness.
Only then did Yueying allow herself to exhale.
The composure she had worn like armor since morning finally slipped. She crossed the room, kicked off her shoes without ceremony, and sprawled face-first onto the bed, silk cushions muffling the quiet sound she made as tension drained from her limbs.
For a few heartbeats, she didn't move.
The mattress was soft. The silks were cool. Her body—miraculously—did not protest.
"…That went better than expected," she murmured into the pillow.
"You were acceptable," Bai Xuan said coolly from within her sleeve. "No emotional leakage. No unnecessary confrontation."
She turned her head slightly, cheek pressed into the silk, one eye half-open. "You say that like you weren't enjoying their expressions."
A faint huff sounded in her mind.
"I do not concern myself with mortal faces."
"Liar," Yueying said lightly.
She rolled onto her back, staring up at the canopy, hands folded loosely over her stomach—warm, steady, alive. Satisfaction lingered there, quiet but real. The disbelief. The silence. The food settling without pain.
Then her focus sharpened again.
"Enjoyment aside," she said, voice calmer now, "I need to return to training. What should I do next?"
There was a pause. A subtle shift, like something ancient resettling itself.
"It has been a long time since I last observed the outside world," Bai Xuan said, his tone lower, reflective. "The age of healing I ruled has undoubtedly fractured into something… unfamiliar."
Then, decisiveness returned.
"For now, we need information. But before you chase anything beyond these walls, your foundation must be solidified."
Yueying frowned, lifting her head. "Even with how fast I'm progressing?"
Something flicked her forehead.
"Ow—!"
"Speed is meaningless without stability," Bai Xuan snapped. "The Foundation Stage is the easiest realm to advance—and the easiest to destroy."
She rubbed her forehead, sighing. "So no shortcuts."
"Correct," he said flatly. "You rush now, and you will spend decades regretting it."
Yueying stared at the canopy for a moment longer, then smiled—slow, determined.
"Fine," she said. "Then let's do it properly."
Her fingers curled lightly against the silk as she closed her eyes.
"Then let's go back to the spirit garden."
Her breath slowed.
The bed beneath her, the faint scent of incense, the distant weight of walls and silk—all of it receded as Yueying turned inward, drawing her awareness away from flesh and bone and into the quiet depths of her mind.
At first, there was only darkness—vast, calm, and soundless. Then light bloomed beneath her awareness, familiar and welcoming, as her consciousness descended deeper.
The world folded.
-x-
The herbal scent reached her first—clean, sharp, and soothing—sliding into her senses and quieting her thoughts almost instantly.
Then sensation followed.
Cool grass brushed against her palms as the world resolved beneath her awareness. The spirit garden unfolded around her, suspended in endless blue—the small floating island she had seen only once before, yet recognized immediately. Herbs swayed gently despite the absence of wind, and the stream murmured in its steady, timeless rhythm.
Yueying inhaled deeply.
It was strange. She had stood here only once, yet the space greeted her as if it had been waiting—unchanged, patient, quietly alive.
Bai Xuan was already there.
The small white serpent rested atop a smooth stone near the stream, scales faintly luminous, blue eyes half-lidded as he watched her take in the garden anew.
"You adapted quickly," Bai Xuan observed. "Most cultivators require repeated entry before their spiritual sea stabilizes enough to sustain a coherent inner domain."
Yueying barely heard him.
Her attention had been drawn to a flower growing a short distance away—its petals a deep, luminous violet, veined with faint silver light. They swayed gently despite the still air, as if responding to something unseen.
She crouched and extended a finger, brushing the edge of one petal.
A sharp jolt shot through her.
Yueying sucked in a breath, eyes widening—not in pain, but surprise. The sensation wasn't electricity. It was dense, vibrant, overwhelming.
Qi.
Pure, abundant qi surged where her skin had made contact, flooding her senses before settling back into the flower as if nothing had happened.
"…So much," she murmured.
She withdrew her hand slowly, then looked up at Bai Xuan, curiosity burning bright.
"What exactly is this spirit garden of yours?" Yueying asked. "I know it exists within my spiritual sea. I know you carried it with you through the jade, and that time flows differently here. But beyond that…" Her gaze drifted back to the glowing flower. "What is this place really?"
Bai Xuan slithered closer, coiling beside her. For once, he didn't answer immediately.
"This," he said at last, "is a fragment."
She glanced at him.
"A fragment of my original spiritual sea," he continued. "The portion I managed to preserve before my cultivation was shattered."
His blue eyes unfocused slightly, as though looking past the garden and into something long gone.
"My spiritual sea once stretched beyond horizons," Bai Xuan said quietly. "Lakes of condensed qi so pure they could be refined directly into elixirs. A single drop could cleanse corrupted meridians or reinforce brittle bones. Fields of herbs spanning every known grade—and several forgotten ones. Spiritual fruits that emperors could not purchase even with mountains of gold."
He let out a slow breath.
"It was paradise," he said simply. "For a healer, there was no greater place."
Yueying looked around the small floating island again—the dense herbs, the living qi in the air, the quiet hum beneath everything—and felt the weight of what had been lost.
And what remained.
"As long as I exist," Bai Xuan said quietly, "that paradise is not truly lost."
Yueying turned to him at once, surprise flashing across her face. "Really?"
Bai Xuan lifted his head slightly, an unmistakable note of pride entering his voice. "I told you before—now that we are bound, our fates are intertwined. As you grow stronger, so do I."
He gestured subtly with his tail, indicating the garden around them. "And as our strength returns, this place will expand. The spiritual garden will recover alongside us."
Yueying's gaze swept across the island again, her imagination igniting. Wider fields. Deeper pools. Herbs and fruit she could scarcely yet conceive.
"So," Bai Xuan added dryly, "you have more than one reason to cultivate diligently."
A smile spread across Yueying's face—bright, unguarded.
"Yes, Master," she said, without mockery this time.
She moved quickly to the center of the island and settled into a cross-legged position, back straight, hands resting loosely on her knees. Excitement hummed beneath her skin, sharp and motivating.
Yueying closed her eyes.
The moment she did, the world sharpened.
She adjusted her posture instinctively, spine straightening, shoulders relaxing as she sank into the familiar rhythm Bai Xuan had drilled into her since the moment her meridians were unsealed. Breath in—slow and deep. Breath out—steady, controlled.
"Do not force it," Bai Xuan said, his voice low and measured. "Remember to let the qi come to you."
She nodded, though he didn't need the confirmation.
The spirit garden responded.
Qi drifted through the air like fine mist, invisible yet unmistakable. It brushed against her skin, slid along her senses, and began to gather—first hesitantly, then with growing confidence—around her seated form. The herbs nearby swayed faintly, leaves trembling as if in recognition, threads of pure energy loosening from their stems and flowing toward her.
Yueying drew it in.
The qi entered through her pores, cool and clean, threading into her meridians without resistance. Where once her channels had felt narrow and reluctant, now they welcomed the flow, expanding fraction by fraction as the energy circulated through her body.
She followed the circulation pattern Bai Xuan had taught her—down the front, up the spine, looping back into her dantian. Each cycle was smoother than the last. Each pass packed the energy tighter, denser, until it no longer felt like mist but like liquid light pooling deep within her core.
Within the spirit garden, minutes bled into hours unnoticed. Yueying remained unmoving at the island's center, breath slow, expression serene as the qi continued to accumulate. The small whirlpool in her dantian spun faster and faster, compressing the energy until it began to hum—low, resonant, alive.
She advanced to the sixth level, then the seventh, then the eighth—and finally the ninth.
Each breakthrough demanded more time, more patience, more precision than the last. The qi no longer rushed eagerly; it had to be coaxed, compressed, and refined again and again until it obeyed her will completely.
What had once been a faint ember within her dantian now burned as a small, roaring fire—steady, contained, and fiercely alive—anchored deep within her core.
"You're progressing much faster than I had originally thought," he murmured. "You're about to reach the limit of the foundation stage."
Yueying felt it too.
Pressure built—not painful, but insistent. Her dantian pulsed once, sharply, and a faint crack seemed to echo through her spiritual sea.
She gritted her teeth, focus narrowing.
"Now," Bai Xuan commanded. "Break through."
She exhaled.
And let go.
The compressed qi surged inward all at once, collapsing into itself before exploding outward in a brilliant wave. Yueying gasped as the energy tore through her meridians, shattering invisible barriers she hadn't even known were there.
Her body trembled.
The spirit garden flared with light.
Qi roared through her system, reforging pathways, widening channels, strengthening her dantian until it felt as though a new core had been carved into existence. The whirlpool stabilized, slower now—but vastly more powerful.
Foundation Stage—
Complete.
Yueying's eyes flew open.
And at the same instance, outside her body, the air in her bedroom shuddered.
The bed frame rattled softly. Curtains snapped as a sudden wind burst outward from nowhere, rippling through the chamber before vanishing just as abruptly. The lamps flickered. The floorboards creaked, as if the manor itself had felt something pass through it.
Then everything stilled.
Inside the spirit garden, Yueying sucked in a sharp breath and laughed—breathless, disbelieving.
"I—I did it," she said, voice shaking with exhilaration.
Bai Xuan's eyes gleamed.
"Yes," he said calmly. "You did."
Yueying steadied her breathing, the exhilaration slowly settling into something deeper and heavier—a sense of weight. Not exhaustion, but presence. Her body felt denser, more anchored, as if she truly occupied space now rather than merely existing within it.
"What… realm is this?" she asked, instinctively touching the area just below her navel. Her dantian felt different—no longer just a container, but a core.
"This," Bai Xuan replied, "is the First Realm beyond Foundation."
She looked up at him sharply. "Beyond?"
"The Foundation Stage," he said, tail flicking once, "is not truly a realm at all. It is preparation. Nine levels of tempering the body, stabilizing the meridians, and forging a vessel capable of holding real power."
He lifted his head slightly, voice taking on the cadence of a teacher long accustomed to instructing disciples.
"You have now entered the Qi Condensation Realm."
Yueying repeated it silently, letting the words settle.
"In this realm," Bai Xuan continued, "qi is no longer merely circulated. It is owned. Condensed. Bound to your will. Your dantian is no longer a whirlpool—it is a reservoir."
As if in response, she felt the fire within her core burn lower and hotter, compact rather than wild.
"This realm has nine levels as well," Bai Xuan said. "Just like the Foundation Stage. But do not be deceived—each level here is exponentially more difficult to advance."
He began to pace slowly along the edge of the stream as he spoke.
"After Qi Condensation comes the Core Forging Realm. That is where cultivators compress their qi into a true core—solid, stable, and capable of sustaining advanced techniques. Many fail there. Their qi collapses, or their core cracks."
Yueying swallowed.
"Beyond that," he went on, unperturbed, "is the Meridian Ascension Realm, where the body's pathways are reforged to carry far greater volumes of energy. Then the Soul Anchoring Realm, where consciousness and qi are bound together so the soul itself becomes resilient."
Her eyes widened slightly. "That's… already five realms."
"Yes," Bai Xuan said dryly. "And you have only just stepped onto the path."
He continued, voice steady and unhurried.
"After Soul Anchoring comes the Domain Manifestation Realm—where cultivators begin to imprint their will onto the world itself. Fields, pressure, presence. Weak-willed opponents cannot even stand in your vicinity."
Yueying thought of the wind that had torn through her room and felt a chill of anticipation.
"Seventh is the Heavenly Vessel Realm," Bai Xuan said. "The body becomes something no longer fully mortal. Lifespan lengthens. Injuries that would kill ordinary people become survivable."
"Eighth," he continued, eyes narrowing slightly, "is the Transcendent Realm. Few reach it. Those who do are no longer bound by common laws."
He stopped pacing and turned to face her directly.
"And the ninth," he said quietly, "is Ascension."
The word seemed to echo through the spirit garden.
Yueying held her breath. "Ascension to… what?"
Bai Xuan's gaze lifted—not to the island, but beyond it, into the endless blue.
"To whatever lies beyond this world," he said simply. "Call it heaven. Call it the higher realms. Names are irrelevant."
Silence stretched between them.
Yueying looked down at her hands again. They looked the same. Pale. Steady. Human.
And yet—
"I've only reached the second realm," she said softly.
"Yes," Bai Xuan replied. "And you did so in only a few days."
He met her gaze, something sharp and serious cutting through his usual arrogance.
"Do not underestimate what that means, Yueying," Bai Xuan said seriously. "But remember this as well—cultivation alone does not make a great doctor. Power may support healing, but it is control that defines it. Precision. Judgment. Restraint."
His gaze sharpened, fixing on her with quiet intensity.
"Your cultivation is a tool, not the goal. Your knowledge, your understanding, and how you apply your qi—that is what must always come first."
Yueying nodded, her expression settling into resolve as her fingers curled slowly at her sides. "You're right," she said quietly. "Then tell me—what comes next?"
Bai Xuan's eyes gleamed with unmistakable satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curving upward.
"Next," he said, voice laced with anticipation, "we begin your training as a physician."