The clearing was still trembling from the echo of the thunderclap. Smoke rose in curling tendrils from the river where the charred corpse of the Razor-Blue Scaled Carp had sunk. Bits of blackened bone and cracked scale floated to the surface, glowing faintly with remnant qi before sinking into the shallows.
Shi Yang was the first to step forward. His vulture screeched, unfurling its blood-soaked threads to drag the remains onto the bank. The beast's corpse was mangled and half-burnt, but still radiated an oppressive weight. With practiced precision, Shi Yang reached into the ribs, pulling free fragments of charred bone still pulsing with spirit light. He wiped them clean against his sleeve, expression calm, almost clinical.
Han Jie, Yueqin, and Xiu Mei joined him moments later, each one kneeling to gather the pieces that had been their objective from the start. The fragments of the carp's spine were said to hold condensed qi from centuries of growth—and when struck by lightning, they became an essential resource for the entrance ingredient they sought.
The three cultivators and Yueqin regrouped, the last embers of battle still humming faintly in the air. For a long while, none spoke. Finally, Shi Yang's gaze swept the smoldering bones in his hands.
"That was truly a Foundation Establishment realm beast?" he asked, his tone even, but his eyes sharp with thought.
Han Jie snorted, tossing a broken scale aside. "What, did it feel too easy?"
Shi Yang looked at her sidelong. "It did not fight like one should. Its strength was real, but it died far too quickly."
Her lips curved faintly, half amusement, half challenge. "Maybe your sense of strength has been skewed, Shi Yang. And it's probably because of that enforcer girl—or mostly guy, as I doubt he's all natural."
At those words, silence fell. The memory of the encounter lingered—the woman who had pressed them down with nothing but presence, who had taken their combined attacks without flinching.
Shi Yang's eyes narrowed. "…She made us feel like children throwing stones."
Xiu Mei, who had been quietly arranging the harvested fragments into a pouch of inscribed silk, finally spoke. "That's because we weren't fighting in the same realm. She was at the peak of Foundation Establishment at least, and we were striking up from below. To her, our fiercest techniques looked like ripples on water."
Han Jie nodded. "Exactly. Against her, everything seemed weak. But here—" she gestured toward the carcass of the carp, "—we were at our peak. With time to prepare, my formation suppressing its flow, and the three of us striking as one… it never stood a chance. Four minutes, and it was finished. We didn't even need to push ourselves."
Shi Yang exhaled slowly, the thought settling in his chest like a weight. "So it wasn't that we were lacking then. It was that she—he—stood leagues above us, beyond the reach of what we could touch."
Han Jie tied off the pouch and stood, brushing dirt from his knees. His expression was thoughtful, almost grim. "Strength is relative. Against one foe, we are titans. Against another, we are gnats. Today proved both truths."
Xiu Mei's gaze lingered on Shi Yang. "Don't let it twist your pride, Uncle Shi. You saw what happens when we fight at our own level. We're not weak. We're not small. But neither are we invincible."
Shi Yang looked at her, then down at the bone fragments in his palm. They pulsed faintly, remnants of the carp's centuries of cultivation now theirs to claim. He tucked them away carefully, his features calm once more.
"Then we move forward," he said simply. "This was only one obstacle. The spirit vein awaits, and whatever dwells beyond it will not be as forgiving."
The three of them stood together at the river's edge, their reflections shimmering in the blood-stained water. They had won a battle with ease—but the memory of the enforcer girl's shadow still lingered, a reminder that true power waited further up the mountain, beyond their current grasp.
Han Jie sealed the silk pouch, the glow of the carp's remnants dimming as they were contained. He glanced toward the carriage, where Yueqin stood with a collection of bone fragments, half shaken from the sudden clash as she helped gather the carp's remains.
"Yueqin," Shi Yang called, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Stay with the carriage. Guard the horse. Watch over Yoke and White."
The girl straightened quickly, nodding, though worry flickered in her eyes. "Yes, Master Shi Yang."
With that, the three cultivators turned back to the river. Without hesitation, they waded in. Ripples broke across the surface as they slipped beneath the water, their figures cutting through the current with deliberate strokes.
The further they descended, the colder and heavier the water became, qi pressing against their chests like a mountain. At the lake's deepest point, they saw it—threads of light weaving together in luminous strands across the rocky floor. The spirit vein pulsed like the heartbeat of the earth, qi flowing outward in invisible currents, saturating the waters around it.
"This is it," Han Jie whispered, voice muffled beneath the surface yet resonating in their spirit seas.
She moved with practiced precision, setting down high-grade spirit stones in a careful pattern across the lakebed. Runes shimmered faintly, linking together as a vast Qi Gathering Formation took shape.
When the last stone locked into place, the formation activated. The spirit vein's energy surged, drawn into a steady spiral that wrapped around the three of them like a living tide.
They sat cross-legged in the current, eyes closing, breathing deep as cultivation began.
Days slipped by unnoticed.
Yueqin became their lifeline to the world above. Each morning she carried water to the horse, brushed its coat, and scattered feed. She tended to Yoke and White, the two tiger cubs, their playful snarls filling the forest edge with life. When their hunger grew restless, she dove into the lake, catching fish bare-handed, her scales shimmering as she returned with dripping offerings.
At first, she only dared peek into the depths, watching their still figures bathed in the glow of the spirit vein. But with each day, her courage grew. She swam beside them, brushing against Shi Yang's robes as if to remind him the world above still waited. Then she would surface again, watching the seasons shift around the carriage, her days marked by a cycle of waiting, tending, and returning.
The days turned into weeks. The weeks into months.
Leaves fell. Snow touched the treetops. Then spring returned. Still they remained in meditation, unmoving, as if carved into the lake itself.
Yueqin's routine never faltered. Her faith anchored her, though sometimes she caught herself whispering, "Don't forget me, Master…" when the loneliness grew too deep.
Then—
A year had passed.
Shi Yang's spirit sea churned with storms, raging blood rivers, towering trees, and the ashes of flaming forests. Thunder cracked. Wind howled. The currents of qi that had once seemed immeasurable now bent like reeds before his will.
"Do not forget the tournament."
The voice came like a whisper of memory, searing into his ear. His eyes snapped open.
For a moment he didn't move, only feeling the pressure of qi around him—no longer suffocating, but flowing into him like an endless river. He raised a hand, and the waters answered.
Plants burst from the lakebed, roots twisting into vibrant green. Vines uncurled, leaves shimmering with dew. Around him, fish born of flame and water spiraled in a dance, their scales glimmering with light, weaving together yin and yang.
The Fountain Realm.
His body radiated vitality. His meridians overflowed with power. Every breath reshaped the qi of the lake around him, drawing it closer, making it his.
He glanced upward, seeing the faint outline of Yueqin's silhouette waiting near the surface as she always did. His lips curved faintly—not with pride, but with awareness.
Time had slipped through his fingers like sand. And yet, he had crossed a threshold he once thought distant.
The first true step into something greater.
Shi Yang's eyes flickered, breath rolling from his lungs like mist. The air carried a faint hum of power, the kind that made the water itself ripple away from his body. Roots twisted through the lakebed around him, newly sprouted plants clinging to the stone as if drawn by his very presence. Above his shoulders, the twin spirits of water and fire swam and circled—a koi of flowing red flame, and another of rippling liquid light, weaving together in slow arcs.
For a heartbeat, he was caught between awe and sobriety. The Fountain Realm. Without meaning to, he had crossed the threshold.
Across from him, a shift in qi stirred the dark waters. Han Jie's form glimmered faintly, her aura pressing against the barrier she had yet to pierce. Her eyes opened slowly, flashing with sharp light, her control tighter than before. Though she hadn't broken through, she was brushing against Foundation with each breath, like a blade honing itself against a whetstone.
Xiu Mei was next to stir. The lake trembled around her, qi gathering and then ebbing away, soft as her heartbeat. When she opened her eyes, her cultivation carried a subtle depth—her foundation no longer fresh, but edging steadily toward the middle stages. She exhaled, and for a moment, even the fish darting past froze under the weight of her serenity.
The three of them looked at one another, the silence between them heavier than words. Each carried progress in their bones, carved from months of stillness, the vein's riches pressed into their meridians. But Shi Yang's heart twisted.
"The vein…" His voice was low.
They turned together, scanning the lake's depths. Where once the spirit vein pulsed bright as a second sun, only pale motes drifted now. The qi had bled into the water, but the heart of it—the anchor of power—was gone. The earth had reclaimed its treasure.
Xiu Mei's expression dimmed, fingers brushing across the hollow lakebed as though she might call it back. "It's shifted. The vein is no longer here."
Han Jie's eyes hardened—she pulled out a talisman, which activated and allowed her to speak underwater. "Then we've taken all it would give us."
There was nothing else to find. The vein had vanished, leaving only stillness. Slowly, the three rose through the dark water, breaking the surface with quiet splashes.
The world above had changed too. The lake's banks had grown wilder, reeds thick and trees broader, the passing of seasons written into every blade of grass. Yueqin was there, perched on a stone at the water's edge, her pale hair damp, eyes watchful. She rose at once, lips curving faintly at their return.
Behind her, two young tigers bounded forward—larger now, no longer the helpless cubs they had been. Yoke's stripes had darkened to a deep, fierce black, his muscles corded with strength, while White's fur glimmered pale silver, her movements sharper, predatory. They stalked forward with playful growls, rubbing against Shi Yang's legs as if demanding recognition.
Shi Yang rested his palm on their heads, the contrast of their power and affection grounding him. His gaze drifted back to Han Jie and Xiu Mei.
"Time didn't wait for us," he said softly. "And neither will the world outside this mountain."
The air smelled different—crisper, sharper. And in the silence that followed, the weight of the missed year pressed in.