Chapter 6 : Whispers of Cultivation
The forest was calm that morning, wrapped in the hush that followed dawn. Dew clung to every blade of grass, catching the weak sunlight that filtered through the canopy. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. The remnants of the campfire smoldered softly, sending a thin ribbon of smoke into the mist that still lingered between the trees.
Li Tianlan stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The journey had been long and wearying — four days since he had left the outskirts of his village, and one strange night since meeting that wounded girl who had appeared from nowhere, bloodied and pale, yet carrying herself like someone who belonged to a higher world.
He turned his gaze toward her. A few paces away, beneath an ancient oak, she sat cross-legged upon a smooth stone, her posture impossibly straight. Her eyes were closed, her hands resting lightly upon her knees, her breathing steady and faint — so faint that for a moment Tianlan wondered if she was even alive.
Her injuries, once severe, were now little more than faint smudges of dried blood upon her robes. The faint glow that surrounded her, subtle yet tangible, made Tianlan hesitate to approach. Still, curiosity — and a lingering guilt for not introducing himself sooner — urged him forward.
"Uh… good morning," he said, trying to sound casual. "You seem… better today."
She didn't respond. Her eyes remained closed, her expression as calm and distant as the moon above still waters.
Tianlan scratched his head awkwardly. "I just realized… I never told you my name yesterday. I'm Li Tianlan."
There was a pause before her voice broke the silence — cool, soft, and distant, like light filtering through drifting clouds.
"…Mingyue," she said simply. "You may call me Mingyue."
He remembered what she had told him the night before — her full name, Yuexian Mingyue. The Celestial Immortal of the Bright Moon.
It was a name chosen by her late father — a name that carried both gentleness and solitude. The kind of name meant for one destined to walk the lonely path of cultivation beneath an eternal sky.
"Mingyue," Tianlan repeated quietly, tasting the sound. "That's a beautiful name."
She gave no reply. Only when the faint silver light around her skin flickered once before fading did she open her eyes. They were a pale shade of jade-gray, like moonlight reflected in a still lake — cold, beautiful, and untouched.
"You look like you've recovered well," he said hesitantly. "Are you… able to move? If not, I can stay another day. Or maybe we could travel together — I could help you find a village nearby."
At that, Mingyue's lashes fluttered slightly. She turned her gaze toward him, studying him with faint surprise. "You plan to continue alone?"
Tianlan nodded, though uncertainty shadowed his expression. "Yes. The forest doesn't seem too bad. I've only seen rabbits, deer, maybe a few boars — nothing too fierce."
For the first time since he'd met her, her expression shifted — faint disbelief crossed her features.
"…Rabbits," she murmured, her tone unreadable.
Inwardly, she almost sighed. So that's how he's survived this long.
Unbeknownst to him, the faint trace of spiritual aura she had unconsciously released while resting had blanketed the area, driving away every beast within miles. Without it, his naïve optimism would have already cost him his life.
But she said nothing.
Instead, her tone softened just a little. "Do you even know where you are?"
Tianlan frowned. "Somewhere in the southern wilderness, I think? Near the Zhou Kingdom's borders?"
"This forest," Mingyue said quietly, "lies within the outer territory of the Crimson Shadow Range. You are standing in land ruled by Foundation Establishment beasts and their kin. Even the weakest among them — first-order beasts — hold strength equal to cultivators in the early Qi Refining realm. The nearest settlement is Yunhe Town, about fifty miles from here. That's nearly eighty kilometers of forest crawling with monsters. If you travel alone, you won't last a day."
Tianlan blinked, the strange words circling in his mind. "Qi refining… foundation… what are you talking about?"
Mingyue tilted her head slightly, her gaze cool and unwavering. "You truly know nothing of cultivation?"
"Cultivation?" he echoed. "You mean those old legends — the ones where people live for hundreds of years and fly through the sky?"
Her lips pressed into a faint line. "Those are no legends. Cultivators walk these lands. The world you know is but a small, sheltered fragment of a far greater one."
He stared, stunned into silence.
"In the beginning," she continued, her voice calm and precise, "a mortal tempers the body to withstand spiritual energy. That is Body Refinement. Once the body can endure qi, one enters the Qi Refining Realm, drawing in the essence of heaven and earth. Beyond that lies Foundation Establishment — where the cultivator forms their foundation to store true power. And above that, Core Formation — where one's strength can level mountains or part rivers."
Tianlan listened, awestruck. Every word opened a world before him — vast, distant, terrifying, and intoxicating all at once.
"So you're one of them?" he asked quietly.
She nodded once. "Late Qi Refining stage. I came here to challenge a beast — to temper my spirit and break through to the next realm. I overestimated myself."
A shadow crossed her eyes — a flicker of memory and pain.
"It was a Foundation Establishment beast," she murmured. "Late stage. I thought I could defeat it with preparation and willpower… but it was stronger than I imagined. I barely escaped alive, using one of my father's treasures."
Her calm wavered — just for an instant. Grief shimmered beneath her words like moonlight rippling on water. "I have been trapped here ever since."
Tianlan didn't know what to say. The quiet strength in her tone — the exhaustion she carried like a second skin — left him uneasy.
He tried to lighten the air. "Well, you look like you're recovering. Still, you shouldn't move too much. If you want, I can—"
He froze.
Mingyue rose. The movement was fluid, like flowing water — elegant, effortless, inhumanly swift. Her silvery-black hair brushed her shoulders as she turned toward a nearby tree. Without a sound, she raised her hand.
A pulse of invisible pressure burst forth.
CRACK.
The tree trunk splintered cleanly in half, scattering leaves like startled birds. Silence fell — deep and absolute.
Tianlan stood frozen, eyes wide.
She turned back to him, her expression unchanged. "Do you still believe you can fight beasts as I do?"
"I—" he stammered. "What even was that? Are you really… human?"
Her lips curved faintly — not in amusement, but in quiet irony. "Human, yes. But not mortal."
The words sent a chill down his spine. "Mortal?"
"You," she said evenly, "are bound by flesh and unable to touch the energy of the world. I am a cultivator. I walk a different path."
He swallowed. "Then how can someone like me… become one of you?"
Her eyes softened slightly — not in kindness, but in faint pity. "Cultivation is not so easily attained. One must be born with spiritual roots — the channels through which qi can flow. The purer the root, the greater the potential. Without them, no amount of effort will matter."
"Then how do I know if I have them?"
"Only a Core Formation expert or a spiritual root testing stone can tell. You might find one in a large city or during a sect's recruitment trials. Every few years, the great sects send envoys to test new disciples. If you truly wish to pursue this path, wait until then."
Tianlan's hands clenched unconsciously. "Then I will. I'll find a way. I'll become strong enough to protect what I couldn't before… and to find those I've lost."
There was something raw in his voice — grief and determination woven together. For the first time, Mingyue's expression faltered.
She studied him for a long moment, then said softly, "If that is truly your desire, then hold to it. The path of cultivation devours the weak and the uncertain."
He nodded firmly. "What about you? You must belong to one of those great sects, right?"
Her gaze drifted away, her expression unreadable. "…Once."
He waited, but she said no more. Whatever memories lingered behind her eyes were hers alone.
After a moment, he broke the silence. "Then, for now, let's travel together. You helped me survive without realizing it — I'd feel guilty leaving you behind. Besides," he added with a half-smile, "I don't even know the way to town."
For a heartbeat, she seemed almost amused. Then she gave a quiet nod. "Very well, mortal. For now, our paths align."
As he busied himself with packing their meager belongings, Mingyue turned toward the rising sun. Light caught the edge of her face — pale, flawless, tinged with quiet sorrow. Her silvery-black hair shimmered faintly, and her moon-gray eyes reflected the dawn.
To Tianlan, she was beautiful beyond words — like a figure carved from light and shadow, untouchable, unfathomable. Yet in that beauty, there lingered an emptiness — the quiet ache of one who had lost too much and could not look back.
As the forest stirred with the sounds of morning, Mingyue whispered to herself, her voice barely louder than the wind:
"I will become strong… for you, Father. For you, Mother. I will not fail again."
Some meetings are not fate, but quiet collisions — the brief crossing of two paths that should never have met.
Li Tianlan still walks as a mortal, yet with each step, the world he once knew grows smaller beneath his feet.
And Mingyue — cold as the moon whose name she bears — carries wounds far deeper than the flesh, bound by the weight of a past she dares not speak.
Their bond is fragile, like light upon water, yet even such light can guide the lost.