Chapter Forty: The Sacred Land of Cultivation

The sun slowly shifted westward from the peak of the Scarlet Wheel, the main summit of the Dan Cliff Sect, moving between the Scarlet Wheel and Brocade Peaks, casting its glow over the valley before the gathering crowd.

A Nascent Soul elder with a wood spiritual root reminded, “Sect Master, it’s about time.”

Lingxuzi nodded, “You several, join me. Once the secret realm is opened, Master Nephew, arrange for them to enter swiftly.”

A black-bearded Daoist bowed to accept the order. Hongjian found his face familiar; the Sect Master’s nephew must be at least a Golden Core cultivator, though she couldn’t recall where she’d seen him before.

Lingxuzi led the assembled Nascent Souls toward the entrance of the valley.

The secret realm existed because in this place, a space governed by different laws had formed. According to Foundation Establishment disciples who had ventured inside, the seasons were indistinct: it might be summer here, yet a few miles away snow would fall thickly, and upon returning, the environment would change again. Apart from a mountain always at the heart of the realm, nothing else followed any pattern.

To open the entrance was simple—one merely needed to disrupt the local laws with the power of cultivators.

Lingxuzi struck first; as the Jade Essence Scripture unfolded, the fresh spring green of the valley withered instantly, and great flakes of snow began to fall, covering the ground in ice.

The other Nascent Soul elders joined in, summoning fierce winds, shaking trees, flooding the valley. Hongjian had never witnessed such a display, and watched in awe. In that instant, she glimpsed many wonders: water flowed over snow without melting it, trees weathered the flood and sprouted countless branches from the torrent, their buds blossoming and fruiting before returning to dust.

Each astonishing transformation represented the signature divine ability of a Nascent Soul elder. Hongjian’s senses were dazzled, her mouth agape in amazement, recognizing that such opportunities to broaden her horizons could only be found in a great sect—an immense boon for her future cultivation.

Jianhui, beside her, whispered, “The laws have changed.”

Indeed, the sky above the ravaged valley grew ever darker as black clouds gathered, eventually blotting out the sun. Where the Foundation Establishment disciples stood, it was still broad daylight, but within the valley, night had fallen.

Suddenly, lightning flashed across the boundary between darkness and light, and a rift appeared in the void—a crack, nearly ten feet high and three feet wide, from which dense mist poured endlessly, dispersing into the air.

The Golden Core Daoist surnamed Zong cried, “Only one can enter at a time, proceed in order!”

The disciples preparing to enter the sect’s secret realm had already lined up in a long queue. Hongjian felt a pang of worry and asked Jianhui, “How do we get out later?”

Jianhui smiled at her, his expression meaningful. “That’s nothing to fret over. The Sect Master will open the secret realm again in three days. By then, everyone will have explored most of it and accomplished what needs to be done. When the laws of the two worlds collide, we’ll be expelled automatically.”

Hongjian nodded, “So that’s how it works.” Watching those ahead vanish through the rift, she was seized by a surge of ambition: opportunities like this were rare; whatever calculations others made, she would make sure to fill her pockets with spirit herbs and treasures before leaving.

As her turn approached, Hongjian stepped aside, “Senior Brother, you go first.”

Jianhui did not refuse, striding quickly toward the rift. As he reached it, he gestured to the “Flowing Water Companion” on his left arm, then turned and stepped decisively into the secret realm, disappearing into the mist.

Hongjian had no time for further reflection. Taking a deep breath, she followed Jianhui’s steps under the gaze of all.

The mist was so thick her eyes became useless; as her feet touched solid ground, a fierce current of energy swept her up. She felt herself spinning, flashes of sun, moon, and stars racing past her eyes. The sensation lasted only a moment—before she could react, the current dissipated and she was dropped into a new place.

Hongjian rolled upon landing and quickly stood, surveying her surroundings.

It was utterly silent—no flowing water, no birdsong, no human voices. Everywhere she looked, milky white mist cloaked the landscape. Hongjian released her spiritual sense, but the air was so dense it resisted her probing; where she could normally sense ten yards around herself, she could now barely make out shapes within three or four yards.

She saw no living creatures.

The adrenaline from her adventure slowly faded, confirming Jianhui’s description of the entry. All one hundred participants had been scattered to different regions of the secret realm—meeting companions would rely entirely on luck, or, as Jianhui had prepared, communication via magical artifacts.

Even if Jianhui knew the local situation, he could do nothing about it; with mist so thick one couldn’t see their own hand, finding anyone would be near impossible.

Hongjian quickly put Jianhui out of her mind. She needed to figure out where she was.

With her limited spiritual sense, she groped through the area, discovering she was in a low valley. Hongjian felt a headache coming on—how would she get out? She hadn’t seen any treasures or spirit herbs yet, and was already trapped. Would she have to resort to clumsy tactics, blindly fumbling her way out like a sightless person?

The mist felt cool and pleasant against her skin. Hongjian sat down, considering how to solve her predicament.

A faint signal came from “Flowing Water Companion”—Jianhui was requesting contact.

Hongjian slipped the “Flowing Water Companion” off her left wrist and stowed it in her spatial pouch. She had resolved before entering to do just this; once outside, she’d brush off Jianhui’s questions, refusing any contact within the secret realm. Even in such difficulty, Hongjian preferred to find her own way rather than seek his help.

With “Flowing Water Companion” tucked away, she could no longer feel its vibrations. Her mind calmed, and she invoked the “Water Condensation Formula.” With a splash, water erupted before her, startling her with its effectiveness. No wonder she felt so comfortable in the mist—it seemed this milky fog was a transformation of concentrated spiritual energy. Not only did her spellwork yield exceptional results, but the true essence she spent was immediately replenished. Truly, this was a perfect place for cultivation.

Hongjian no longer felt any urgency to leave. She wondered whether these spirit mists benefitted all those with spiritual roots, or only water-rooted cultivators like herself. She tapped her forehead, then settled cross-legged to recite the incantation for “All Streams Return.”

“All Streams Return” instantly absorbed a vast amount of water. Hongjian had no inkling how ordinary and overlooked this martial technique was; now, with her spiritual sense and true essence constrained at the threshold of advancement, this technique could still improve. The surrounding mist was formed by the fusion of spiritual energy and water—upon casting “All Streams Return,” Hongjian immediately sensed a difference.