Beneath the rising sun, I stood before the chariot. Excessive. Thunder dragons coiled along its dark-violet frame, their scales etched with flawless formations. Faint lightning drifted between the carvings, restrained yet ostentatious, as if even silence here demanded attention.
"…Is this truly necessary?" I asked.
A Thunder Dragon Guard stepped forward and cupped his fist. "Young Master. This was Madam's explicit instruction."
I sighed. "It's too flashy."
The guard hesitated for a breath. "It is meant to inspire awe from a thousand li."
"I am sightseeing," I said flatly. "Not inspecting an army."
"Madam anticipated that," another guard replied. "If Young Master attempted to replace it with something 'subtle,' we were ordered to refuse."
"Haa…" I exhaled. "Of course she did. Very well. Let's depart before she adds fireworks."
The instant I stepped inside, space yielded. What should have been a narrow cabin unfolded into a vast hall, its size utterly at odds with the chariot's exterior. Obsidian floors reflected soft thunderlight. Pillars shaped like intertwined dragons rose to support a ceiling carved with ancient storm sigils. Open balconies lined the sides, sealed by invisible barriers yet open to the sky.
"…Acceptable," I admitted.
The chariot rose. Thunder formations locked beneath it with a muted hum. Twenty Dragon Guards took escort positions upon condensed lightning, their black-violet armor resonating as one. I stepped onto a balcony.
Below, the Nine Profound Thunder Sect spread out like a living scroll. Peaks speared the clouds. Rivers of mist wound through valleys. Structures clung to stone with deliberate restraint. Distant thunder rolled, measured and controlled. My irritation faded.
As we traveled, the land shifted. Thunder peaks softened into highlands, then plains. Villages passed like fleeting brushstrokes. Forests stretched without end, spirit beasts roaming where mortals dared not tread. Calming. Perhaps that was Mother's true intent.
"Yanruo," I said, "wormwood tea."
"Yes, Young Master."
The first day passed in quiet motion. I remained on the balcony, watching the world unfold. The guide, a weathered man shaped by years of travel, spoke when appropriate.
"To the east," he said, gesturing, "lies the Fiendish Flame Range. A Law Embodiment cultivator fell there. When his lifespan ended, his Dao returned to heaven and earth, reshaping the land for eight thousand li."
I glanced at the faintly glowing cliffs. "Law Embodiment…"
"Few enter," he continued. "Only late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators may survive briefly."
"Will I reach that realm?" I asked.
The captain answered without hesitation. "Without doubt, Young Master."
I smiled faintly. "If you believe so."
By the third day, the air thickened. Mist dulled the sky. Marshlands spread beneath us, dark waters reflecting pale light. Yin Qi rose steadily, pressing against the hull as the thunder formations deepened their hum.
"How tiresome," I muttered. "Moongaze Lake."
I glanced at the captain. "How do Thunder cultivators endure such a place?"
"Thunder is Yang-dominant," he replied evenly, "but it is born from Yin. Explosive Yang emerging from still Yin. Judgment from stillness."
I studied him. "Your name?"
"Zhou Taiping."
"Zhou?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Mortal-born," he said calmly. "Outer sect."
"…You've done well."
The chariot drifted onward. Ahead, another chariot emerged from the mist, brilliance forcing the Yin to recoil. A golden dragon coiled around a radiant sun crest.
I smiled. "Li Minghuang."
He stood upon his chariot, nine feet tall, golden hair blazing in the muted light. A sun sigil burned upon his brow. His eyes shone like twin stars. At his side hovered a black-and-gold blade, sixteen feet long, perfectly still yet unbearably sharp. Bright Yang pressed outward, defiant.
Beside him stood Li Ruyang. Smaller, composed, her radiance refined rather than overwhelming. Amber-gold eyes lingered on me, curious, measuring. A slender saber hovered at her side, restrained but dangerous.
Minghuang laughed, bright and unrestrained. "Leilong," he called. "Have you come to gather Yin for your Immortal foundation?"
"Indeed," I replied.
So fast? What a beast.
"Hmm, it's indeed about time, you created your immortal foundation," Minghuang said.
"So what brings you two here?" I asked.
"We came to get Yang suppressing pills for Ruyang, from Uncle Tianrong," he replied with a frown.
"Ah ha! Why don't you and Ruyang spend some time together, after all you have been betrothed," Minghuang said with a smile.
"Hmm? Why not? If she is willing to accompany me," I said while looking at her with a smile.
Ruyang's gaze lingered on me for a while. "Moongaze Lake is not a place I visit often," she said calmly. "Your thunder formations will make the journey… more comfortable."
Minghuang raised a brow, then laughed. "Looks like you've been chosen."
"It would be a pleasure to have you aboard," I said with a smile.
She nodded with a slight smile, as she floated towards my chariot.
"Are you coming with us, or would you wait here?" I said, looking at Li Minghuang.
"Haha, I do not fancy being a third wheel, and not meeting Uncle Tianrong is a plus, I shall wait here," he replied with a laugh.
Ruyang gazed at him with a frown. "Cousin, why be so crass?" she asked with angry eyes.
Ruyang drifted toward my chariot, settling gracefully on the balcony. Her amber-gold eyes lingered on me, calm yet curious.
"So," I began, leaning slightly against the railing, "do you always travel with this serious face, or am I special?"
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Only with people who deserve it."
"Indeed," I said, smiling. "I am a man who deserves a lot."
"Arrogant!" she said with mock indignation, though her eyes betrayed amusement.
"Do you have any interests aside from cultivation?" she asked, her tone curious.
"Hmm… why do you ask?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.
"I find people who are one-dimensional… disgusting. Those who only seek cultivation and power. I find it pitiful," she said evenly.
Unexpectedly, we shared a similar view. Interesting.
At that moment, Yanruo came in, quietly arranging the table with tea and snacks, then left without a word.
"I do have quite a few interests," I said, smiling.
"Oh? Tell me," she prompted, leaning slightly forward, intrigued.
"I love painting," I admitted, eyes meeting hers. "Even now, looking at you, I can imagine rendering your beauty on paper. It's what I love most."
Her amber-gold eyes flickered with a hint of surprise, then a faint blush warmed her cheeks. "Is that so…? You're not as arrogant as you pretend to be."
I grinned. "Perhaps not. Only when someone interesting is around."
I leaned back, letting the breeze drift over us. "Now that I have told you my darkest secrets, you have to tell me yours. Perhaps you have interest in painting too?" I teased.
Ruyang tilted her head, amber-gold eyes narrowing just slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. "I tried once. My brush ended up looking like it had a mind of its own. I prefer observing beauty… rather than creating it."
"Ah," I said, feigning disappointment, "a passive admirer then. It's a pity—one can't see your perspective of the world."
She chuckled softly, the sound carried easily over the quiet hum of the wind. "Perhaps that's the point. Some things are meant to be appreciated, not captured."
I leaned closer, our faces mere inches apart. "I disagree. Some things must be captured. For instance… you."
Her eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks flushed. "You… what do you mean?"
I smirked, teasing. "I hope to paint you under the rising sun. Preferably… in less clothing. I think it would be my finest work."
Her face deepened into a vivid red. "Less clothing? Why?"
I let a playful smile tug at my lips. "Clothes hide the essence. Remove them, and the natural beauty reveals itself. That is what I wish to capture."
She bit her lip, a mix of irritation and amusement in her gaze. "You really are audacious."
"And you," I countered, "are far too captivating to be ignored."
Her cheeks still tinged with pink, she broke the gaze and gestured toward the small table Yanruo had set up. "If you're so confident in your artistry, can you handle a game of Go?"
I arched an eyebrow, amused. "A test of skill instead of charm? Bold of you."
She set the stones carefully, her fingers brushing the board with precision. "Go isn't just a game. It's strategy, patience… and it reveals character."
I leaned over, studying the board. "Then let's see what your character says about you."
For a long moment, we played in silence. Each stone placed carefully, every move met with a subtle counter. Our eyes met occasionally, a flicker of amusement or challenge passing between us.
"You think too quickly," she teased, placing a black stone decisively. "Patience. Sometimes the best move is the one you don't make."
I smirked. "And sometimes, the boldest move wins everything."
I placed my white stone with a flourish, brushing close enough to her hand that a spark of warmth seemed to leap from our contact. The game continued, each move an unspoken conversation—teasing, testing, and daring.
For a while, the world outside the chariot ceased to exist, leaving only the board between us and the subtle tension that neither stone nor strategy could fully contain.
The chariot drifted toward the center of Moongaze Lake. Mist clung to the water's surface, shrouding the distant shore. There, an island rose like a shadow, jagged rocks cradling a single pavilion.
"Uncle Tianrong's place," I murmured, nodding toward it. The pavilion's dark eaves jutted sharply, almost menacing.
The chariot settled on the stone pier of the island in the center of Moongaze Lake. Mist curled around the jagged rocks, and the pavilion atop them looked like it had been plucked from a dream.
Ruyang's eyes scanned the place warily. "This… feels strange."
"Perfect for him," I murmured.
The pavilion door opened wide, and without a sound, a tall figure appeared inside. Hair streaked black and violet fell loosely over his shoulders. His sharp, dark eyes glinted with mischief and a touch of menace, but he made no move toward us.
Before I could speak, the wine in crystal bottles weighing 1000 cattie, and the eleven maidens appeared inside the pavilion, as if materialized from thin air. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the gifts hovering silently in the air.
"Master Tianrong," I said, bowing slightly.
Seven bottles containing pills appeared in front of Ruyang, the very air around them seemed frozen. Ruyang took them and stored them in her bracelet.
"Thank you, Elder Tianrong," she bowed respectfully.
From within, his voice echoed, smooth and casual, yet carrying a dark undertone. "I trust you'll find what you need… without needing to ask. I don't like interruptions."
The pavilion remained silent, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the lake against the stone pier and the soft hum of the chariot's hovering energy. Tianrong had vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving no trace beyond his gifts and the faint weight of his presence.
I turned to Ruyang. "Well… it seems our host has already decided how we will proceed."
"I will need three days and three nights to gather Yin—or rather three nights, since there is no day here," I said. "Will you wait?"
"To leave would be rude," she said.
I smiled. "It will be a boring three days. You may wait in the chariot; Yanruo would attend to you."
"Be careful," she said seriously. I smiled.
Yanruo hovered near the entrance, her expression calm and attentive. "Young Master," she said softly, "I will prepare the accommodations in the chariot. Miss Ruyang can rest there without disturbance."
"Thank you, Yanruo," I said, voice low but firm. She inclined her head and drifted silently from the pavilion, leaving only the lake, the chariot, and the lingering aura of Tianrong's gifts.
I exhaled, letting my senses reach outward. The Yin here was dense, old, and patient—it did not rush, it did not yield. Perfect for what I needed.
Three nights, I thought. Three nights of stillness, of focus, of drawing the essence I had come to gather. The world outside could wait.