Chapter 24: Just a Dream

Exiting the Realm

The Heavenly Action Secret Realm began expelling outsiders.

Gu Chi felt spatial ripples around him.

He and Feng Xizhi would soon be teleported out.

She smoothed the wrinkles in her slightly disheveled qipao.

Wiping her tears, her face cleared, save for faintly red eyes.

They were squeezed out of the realm.

Gu Chi’s vision cleared.

In the crowd, he spotted a figure in a robe embroidered with a fire phoenix—a Fire Phoenix Sect elder.

The elder, an old woman, looked kind.

Feng Xizhi appeared in his sight.

He turned to leave, but she called out.

“Gu Chi, wait…”

His steps paused, air sword ready in his heart.

He could escape a Void Refining fifth-layer cultivator, though it would cost him dearly.

She ran to the elder, voice soft.

“How many spirit stones does Elder Mu carry?”

The old woman, called Elder Mu, looked puzzled but answered kindly.

“No expenses this trip, just my usual thousand-stone note.”

“What for?”

“Lend it to me.”

“I need to thank a benefactor.”

“I’ll repay you at the sect.”

“Benefactor?”

“Yes, someone saved my life in the realm.”

Her voice was gentle.

Seeing Gu Chi’s retreating figure, she grew anxious.

After urging, Elder Mu handed over the thousand-stone note without further questions.

She chased Gu Chi, jumping in front of him, pressing the note to his chest.

“Still owe you two thousand.”

“Come to Fire Phoenix Sect when you’re ready.”

She stood, hands on hips, eyes bright.

“I repay my debts.”

He didn’t hesitate, taking the note, meeting her gaze.

“I’ll come.”

“Hope you’ve got the guts.”

She lowered her voice, lips curling, then spoke softly.

“I’ll keep an eye out for your Ice Heart Fruit.”

“If I find news, I’ll contact you through Lingyun Pavilion.”

“Thanks.”

“Louder, can’t you?”

She looked at him coyly.

He rolled his eyes, turning to leave.

She didn’t follow, watching his back fade into the distance.

Taking out her spirit boat, she returned to Elder Mu.

The elder glanced curiously.

“Who was that?”

“An interesting rogue cultivator.”

Her voice was soft.

Returning to Fahua Mountain

The snowstorm had ceased.

Gazing at the azure sky, Gu Chi thought so.

He’d soon return to the temple on Fahua Mountain—his home, his anchor.

He and Pei Ningxue chose it together.

The mountain held countless shared memories.

Back in the courtyard, he sat on the swing chair, resting with closed eyes.

Pei Ningxue loved this swing.

She’d bask in the sun, sometimes calling him to push her.

It was still winter; he planned to cure some bacon for New Year’s Eve.

Not all cultivators were ascetic.

Many indulged in wine, lust, wealth, and ambition.

Thousands of years ago, the human race’s Eternal Emperor ascended, tearing the heavens.

Upper-realm spiritual energy flooded this world, transforming cultivation.

What once took a century to reach Core Formation, many now achieved by thirty.

Some geniuses formed cores at fourteen or fifteen.

Abundant spiritual energy fueled a leap in cultivation power.

The Emperor left treasures across Cangxue Continent, hidden in realms for the young to find.

He also left upper-realm heavenly energy in the Sky-Reaching Tower.

Every decade, the Five Domains held a grand competition.

Selected young prodigies vied for rankings, winners gaining heavenly energy, a cultivation boon.

But cultivators had formed alliances—sects, dynasties, families—dividing resources.

Their children inherited talents and the best resources.

As the scriptures said, the strong grew stronger, the weak weaker.

Immortality was less distant.

The idea spread: why suffer so much for it?

Cultivators began demanding more from food, clothing, shelter.

Gu Chi didn’t care much.

He cultivated to survive.

Living past forty was his dream.

Without cultivation, the Demon Dragon Gu would’ve devoured him a decade ago.

The gu, mindless, didn’t know their fates were tied.

If he died, it died.

Like a ravenous infant, it wailed when hungry.

The winter sun was gentle.

He basked on the swing, dozing off.

In a half-dream, he heard Pei Ningxue’s murmurs.

Opening his eyes, her familiar face wasn’t there.

Just a dream.

For years, he’d survived alone in the cultivation world, used to solitude.

Meeting Pei Ningxue softened him.

His years of wandering made happiness feel ominous.

When she was near, it felt unreal, as if she’d vanish like a phantom.

Now, gone like scattered clouds, he doubted himself.

Their brief companionship should’ve been a reward for his lonely years.

Yet sitting here, memories surfaced.

Warm moments shattered, scattered across the ground.

Perhaps brief companionship was its own punishment.

Moon Wheel Sect

In Eastern Domain, Moon Wheel Sect had been the top sect for seven hundred years.

Not long, not short.

The four major sects were close in strength, competing through each generation’s prodigies.

This generation’s stars were Ji Yi, Ji Er, and Fang Xiyu.

Ji Yi was in seclusion, forming his Nascent Soul.

He’d likely emerge at that realm.

Ji Er, his brother, was mid-Core Formation.

Fang Xiyu, also mid-Core Formation.

Her sword talent was exceptional.

Though lower in cultivation, her combat prowess was strong, once slaying a late Core Formation beast.

Thanks to abundant spiritual energy, her courtyard’s plants thrived.

Not yet spring, her peach trees budded, a few blossoms blooming elegantly.

Sword winds swirled in the courtyard.

Fang Xiyu, in a white dao robe, sheathed her dancing spirit sword.

Her breathing quickened, cheeks flushed, forehead damp with sweat.

She’d practiced swordplay for a day and night.

Moon Wheel’s sixth form, Flying Sword, eluded her.

She couldn’t focus.

Swordplay required mental clarity, but her mind wandered.

Those eyes haunted her, scattering her focus, fueling her rage.

She’d never hated anyone so fiercely.

After a brief rest, she gripped her sword, dancing again.

A hazy figure appeared, wearing a Qingmian mask.

She stabbed at those eyes repeatedly, but the figure vanished, reappearing with mocking eyes.

“Die, die, die, die, die!”

Her lips trembled, muttering instinctively.

She stabbed at the illusion until exhaustion drained her.

The vision faded.

She collapsed on the stone floor, robe soaked, clinging to her full chest, rising and falling with her breaths.

A knock came.

Too weak to rise, she relaxed when the door opened, revealing her mother, Fang Ziyu.

No one else dared enter uninvited.

Fang Ziyu looked at her struggling daughter, speaking calmly.

“That prescription—I had the alchemy elders study it for a day and night.”

“No clear results, but the herbs are harmless.”

“Whether it can heal your flawed ice vein spirit root needs testing.”

“I’ve ordered the herbs gathered.”

“You’ll know in three days.”

Fang Xiyu’s lips moved, voiceless.

She didn’t know what to say.

“I know you’re full of hate.”

“My sword art demands a clear mind.”

“Hate isn’t all bad, but you must overcome it.”

Fang Ziyu’s eyes held no pity, only calm, almost cold.

Fang Xiyu was used to it.

Unlike other mothers who doted, hers demanded near-daily sword practice to exhaustion.

She was to sever emotions, abstain from grains, even wear robes her mother chose.

She’d stopped wondering why as a child.

“That thief, Qingmian.”

Her mother’s eyes grew colder.

“I might have a way to find him.”

“You’ll have your chance to end your hate.”

Fang Xiyu’s eyes brightened, strength returning.

She stood, voice soft.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Fang Ziyu glanced at her, expressionless.

“Rest.”

“The elixir will arrive in three days.”

She turned and left.