Although Qingyue could have told her mother the truth about her sudden change in appearance, the words had refused to leave her lips.
How could she explain it?
How could a girl who had never heard of cultivation suddenly awaken a profound realm of spiritual energy overnight? Her body had grown leaner, her features more refined. Her skin now carried a faint, inexplicable glow—subtle, but undeniable to anyone who looked closely. Her mother, of course, noticed. But Qingyue simply smiled and gave vague excuses, blaming it on the fall that she suffered from the tree, a strange dream, or simply the strange effects of puberty.
In truth, she feared her mother's reaction. Cultivation was not common in this remote village. Even those who had spirit roots rarely succeeded in advancing to the most basic stages. If her secret was revealed, questions would follow. Attention. Suspicion.
And suspicion was something she could not afford. Not yet.
She needed time.
Time to grow stronger. Time to hide.
Time to prepare for the vengeance that burned in her chest like a smoldering ember.
After returning to her room, Qingyue shut the wooden door behind her and sat cross-legged upon her thin mattress. The scent of dried herbs clung to the air. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, slowly submerging her consciousness into the flow of energy within.
She was not power-hungry. She had once thought she was, in her past life—so eager to rise, to climb, to crush everything in her way. But now, it was different.
This time, power was not a desire.
It was a necessity.
The Azure Lotus Sect. Her so-called sect. Her friend. Her master. Everyone and everything that had once surrounded her with false warmth. She wanted to destroy it all.
But destruction was not as simple as a whispered word. Sects were ancient institutions, built on generations of strength and blood. To destroy one was to invite war from heaven and hell alike.
She needed power. Immense power.
And she needed it fast.
Not just for revenge. But for survival.
The forest behind the village still housed a deadly threat—a snake sealed beneath layers of a strange formation. It slumbered now, but not forever. Sooner or later, the seal would fail.
And when it did, Qingyue would have to face it.
It would be better to take care of it before it gets unsealed.
She took another breath and calmed her thoughts. Closing her eyes, she focused on the qi around her. Her senses stretched outward, seeking the faint spiritual currents in the air.
She saw red.
Only red.
Strands of fiery qi danced like threads of flame, drifting through her consciousness. She already knew it—her spirit roots belonged to the fire element. Among the four basic elements—fire, water, wind, and earth—fire was the most destructive, the most untamed. It was both a blessing and a curse.
There were rarer elements too—ice, lightning, darkness, and others whispered in ancient texts. But such roots were scarce even among the cultivators of great sects.
In her previous life, the only special spirit root cultivator she had met was...
Bai Lian'er.
Her backstabbing friend.
The very name filled Qingyue with cold fury.
That traitor, who once held her hand and called her sister, only to thrust a blade into her back. A darkness crept into Qingyue's gaze as she remembered the moment of betrayal.
This time, she would not be so kind.
This time, Bai Lian'er would die first.
Qingyue exhaled slowly, clearing the hatred from her mind. Emotions were dangerous when cultivating. Rage was a poison that clouded the heart.
She needed clarity. Precision.
She centered herself once again and resumed her cultivation.
She was now at the first stage of the Qi Gathering Realm—Body Tempering.
In this stage, a cultivator used qi to reinforce their physical body—bones, muscles, and meridians were strengthened with each cycle of energy. It did not grant flashy powers or supernatural feats, but it laid the foundation. A solid body was the vessel of all future cultivation.
Most cultivators at this stage could only use basic spiritual techniques—form simple arrays, enhance their weapons with spiritual energy, and perhaps fight slightly stronger mortals.
But Qingyue had one major disadvantage—she had no weapon.
No spiritual blade. No forged treasure.
Nothing.
Though deep inside, she could faintly feel the Moonblades—still slumbering, still fused with her soul. They refused to awaken. Their power, sealed. Perhaps they waited for the right moment.
For now, she carried a kitchen knife, tucked into her robe. Crude, but sharp enough.
She began circulating the qi through her body, drawing the red strands inward. Sweat quickly soaked her back. The qi burned as it passed through her muscles, refining them, searing away impurities.
Hours passed.
And then, something strange happened.
A faint barrier inside her body began to crack—the gate to the second stage of Qi Gathering trembled, on the verge of breaking.
So soon?
She opened her eyes in disbelief.
In her past life, it had taken her an entire month to reach this point. Even then, she had struggled. Many cultivators got stuck for years… some never advanced at all.
And now, it had taken a single day.
Was it because of her past life's experience? Or was it something else?
Even if she could advance, she hesitated. Advancing too fast might create an unstable foundation—a trap that could doom her in the future. Cultivation was not just a race; it was a long road where every step had to be taken carefully.
Still, she didn't have time.
She needed strength.
And fast.
To stabilize her foundation, she needed real combat.
That was why sects often encouraged sparring, duels, and mock battles—nothing tempered a cultivator's soul better than the clash of life and death.
But Qingyue was not part of a sect now. She had no fellow disciples to challenge.
She only had a few friends in the village—young children who hadn't even awakened their spirit roots.
There was only one place left.
The forest.
Dangerous, yes.
But if she survived, she would grow.
If she didn't...
At least she wouldn't die waiting.
She packed lightly, hiding the kitchen knife inside her sleeve. Her mother asked where she was going, and Qingyue replied she would be playing with the other children.
A small lie, but necessary.
She stepped into the forest again, her senses sharp. This time, she remained in the outskirts, far from the snake's location. She had marked its position mentally, but caution was still necessary.
Hours passed.
No beasts.
Nothing.
Disheartened, she was just about to turn back—when a distant rumbling shook the air.
Qingyue instantly ducked low and concealed her presence. Her body moved like the wind, graceful and silent. With ease, she climbed the nearest tree and began hopping from branch to branch, her movement fluid and swift.
At last, she saw it.
A small clearing. Two spirit beasts locked in a brutal clash.
One was a wind elemental saber-toothed tiger, sleek and agile.
The other—a massive earth spirit bear, easily twice its size.
They roared and struck at each other with wild fury, shaking the ground.
Qingyue observed quietly.
The tiger was fast, darting around the bear like a whirlwind of claws and teeth. But the bear was a walking fortress, its body encased in rock armor. Each strike it received barely left a mark.
It was clear—the tiger was losing.
Qingyue remained neutral at first. This was nature. One beast would win, the other would fall. Strength decided all.
But then—movement.
A rustle in the bushes behind the tiger.
She shifted silently to another tree and peered down.
Three small tiger cubs.
Two trembled in fear, barely able to move. The third, slightly larger, lay injured—its side torn open by a claw.
So the tiger wasn't just fighting for territory.
It was fighting to protect its young.
Suddenly, Qingyue felt a strange ache in her heart.
She saw her own mother.
Standing against the world for her sake.
Without hesitation, Qingyue's eyes sharpened.
The tiger was bleeding heavily now. One more hit, and it would fall.
She had to act. Now.
Even if the bear was stronger, if they fought together, they had a chance.
And Qingyue was willing to risk everything.
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