Chapter Three: Sensing Qi

The Daoist Sect boasted a long and venerable tradition, with four great halls and seven peaks. Among them, the Emerald Bamboo Peak stood at the southwestern corner of the inner sect, closest to the mountain gate. The peak was blanketed with verdant bamboo, from which it took its name. Along the wide, open mountainside, numerous courtyards stood side by side, tranquil and secluded. New disciples who had yet to break through the Qi Refining stage and obtain their own life-bonded spiritual treasure would cultivate here.

“The entrance examination still has a few days left. Once it concludes, you will begin your studies here together,” said Master Mingjian, casually tossing a Daoist Sect beginner’s handbook to the two of them before explaining various intricate rules and customs of the sect.

“If you have any questions, come find me. I’ll always be on Emerald Bamboo Peak,” he added warmly to Shang Yingluo before he left, his gentle manner putting her at ease. He didn’t so much as glance at Shen Yu, standing nearby.

The little girl thanked him sweetly and, only after he had gone far, turned and said, “He doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

Shen Yu gazed at the courtyard before him and replied blandly, “I’ve never been particularly likable.”

Shang Yingluo nodded, her face earnest. “Well, I don’t dislike you.”

He shot her a sidelong glance. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

The girl’s face flushed scarlet. She looked left and right, her expression all but shouting, “It’s not like that!”

The courtyard was extremely simple and old-fashioned. The room against the mountainside was similarly furnished: a wooden bed, a wooden table. Only the set of celadon teaware on the table, wreathed in a faint aura, hinted at anything extraordinary.

After a brief tidying, Shen Yu boiled a pot of tea and sat in a chair, lost in thought. He had indeed come here searching for that spiritual treasure, and after that, perhaps, to find certain people. But it had been so long—while the treasure might still remain, who could say if the people did?

Two sharp little pigtails appeared outside the door, and the girl entered with her hands behind her back.

Shen Yu raised his teacup and remarked, “Most of your kind—beastkin—are hot-tempered and proud, viewing humans as insects. Your presence here is truly unusual.”

“I just came to ask you something,” the girl shot him a glare, then fixed him with an inquisitive stare. “During the aptitude test earlier, did you help me? My instincts are never wrong. Was it you? Don’t you dare lie.”

Daoist Sect tea was slightly bitter. Shen Yu took a sip. “Although you have a beast body, your talent for cultivation is quite good. It’s just that the Mirror of Heart’s Inquiry is a human spiritual treasure and naturally resists you.”

He neither denied nor admitted it, but Shang Yingluo knew the answer at once.

She wriggled in her seat, sitting with no regard for decorum, elbows propped on the table, chin in her hands, her bright eyes studying him intently.

“You’re really strange—even harder to figure out than me. Shen Yu, who are you, really?”

Shen Yu frowned, pondering in silence. For others, the question was simple, but for him, he didn’t know where to begin. At last, he took a deep breath and answered solemnly, “Just a failed man, nothing more.”

Pain flickered in his otherwise indifferent expression. His voice grew cold. “There are some things I need to confirm—and then, there are some people I need to kill.”

Munching on a spirit fruit from the table, Shang Yingluo replied, “I see. That sounds interesting. When you find out, don’t forget to tell me.”

Shen Yu nodded. “Alright.”

...

“There are ten thousand ways to cultivate in this world, but none more orthodox than the Daoist path. This is acknowledged by all the great sects of the Spirit Wilderness,” Master Mingjian spoke before the courtyard, a group of young men and women seated cross-legged before him.

Several days later, all the new disciples for the year had arrived at Emerald Bamboo Peak. Cries of amazement and admiration could be heard among the crowd. Even Shang Yingluo, the “non-human,” wore an entranced expression, as if basking in the glory of her own ancestors.

Shen Yu stood at the very back, gazing at the youthful, energetic faces. A strange feeling stirred in him.

How wonderful to be young.

“The path of cultivation is fraught with hardship. The ninth level of Qi Refining is the first threshold. Only after you cross it will you be qualified to overcome the many tribulations ahead and set foot upon the summit of immortality.

“From now on, you will all cultivate here on Emerald Bamboo Peak. When you break through the ninth level of Qi Refining and reach the Initiation Realm, you will be eligible to leave for the Treasure Cliff.

“If, on the Treasure Cliff, you are recognized and accepted by a spiritual treasure, you may even be chosen by the masters of the four halls and seven peaks to become a true disciple and learn the genuine Daoist arts.”

At these words, excitement swept through the youths, each anxious to begin cultivating at once.

Mingjian stood with hands clasped behind his back, quietly sensing their joy and anticipation, and could not help but sigh inwardly.

The Daoist Sect’s Treasure Cliff, the Sword Tomb of Sword Immortal City, the Third-Floor Library of the Academy, and the Spirit Mountain of the western temple—these were the most difficult places in the world to reach. Every spiritual treasure kept on the Treasure Cliff was innate, with standards impossibly high. Except for those with Heaven-grade Dao bodies or the most exceptional Earth-grade ones, ordinary disciples could not even set foot there.

The chance to inherit a spiritual treasure was vanishingly rare. Even Mingjian himself had not been so fortunate the first time he entered the Treasure Cliff.

But he did not say this aloud. However remote the road ahead, each person needed a guiding light, lest they lose themselves in the long, lonely years.

“Each of you will receive a Qi Condensing Pill. Take it and, following the breathing techniques described in your manual, refine its power. Most will reach the first level of Qi Refining in three days at most, one if you’re especially talented.

“Time means nothing in cultivation. These next three years—make the most of them. Work hard.”

After distributing the pills, Mingjian departed.

The young men and women treated the pills as precious treasures and hurried to their rooms.

Shen Yu turned the fragrant pill over in his fingers, marveling silently at the Daoist Sect’s resources. Even this entry-level pill for new disciples was crafted by a master of the Dao.

He put the pill away and returned to his room. As soon as he opened the door, Shang Yingluo slipped in from next door, sat in a chair, and grabbed a spirit fruit.

Looking at the now-empty fruit plate, Shen Yu said, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re related to the gluttonous beast tribe.”

“I most certainly am not related to those idiots,” she replied, mouth full, her pigtails bouncing with each bite.

Seated on his bed, Shen Yu announced, “I’m going to start cultivating.”

She glanced at him. “I’m just eating fruit. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you.”

He considered this. “Very well, as you wish.”

The first step on the path of cultivation was of utmost importance—everyone took it very seriously.

Who in their right mind would allow someone to remain within twenty feet of them at such a moment? Yet Shang Yingluo seemed unconcerned, and stranger still, so did Shen Yu, as if it were the dullest matter in the world.

He placed the pill into his mouth and suddenly recalled that, long ago, this very act had caused quite a commotion. After a moment’s thought, he flicked his right hand, sending a streak of clear light around the wooden house.

“So troublesome,” he murmured with a helpless shake of the head, then closed his eyes.

...

Mingjian had not gone far. He stood atop a branch of a giant tree, overlooking the courtyards below.

For mortals, the first step in cultivation was called “sense of qi”—from the first breath to entering the first level of Qi Refining. At this stage, a cultivator formed a spiritual sea within themselves to hold the qi of heaven and earth. The capacity of this sea determined one’s potential.

Mingjian, as the guide for this cohort, needed to assess their potential and report back to the elders.

Soon, a beam of light rose from one of the distant courtyards, shooting into the sky. Immediately, countless fine rays followed, each representing a room, a disciple.

In moments, the mountainside was suffused with spiritual energy, ethereal and misty.

“This generation of disciples is truly outstanding,” Mingjian murmured with satisfaction. “The strongest we’ve had in years, save for that woman sword immortal. I can finally—”

Boom.

A pillar of light, as thick as a mountain, shot up without warning, cutting him off. It soared into the heavens, fierce and unyielding, like a divine blade cleaving the night sky. The spiritual energy cloaking the mountainside was instantly swept away.

Mingjian stared in disbelief at this phenomenon.

At the same time, from deep within the Daoist Sect, several overwhelming auras converged upon the peak of Emerald Bamboo, their attention unwavering.

Sensing several familiar presences among them, Mingjian recognized who they were and grew even more alarmed.

The pillar of light still blazed, undiminished.

Mingjian silently recited a calming mantra, suppressing his inner turmoil. He looked toward the source of the brilliance—his pupils dilated in shock.

That was...

Shen Yu’s room?