Chapter Fourteen: Beyond the Sea

The assessment was over, and countless strange gazes settled upon Yao Zhen, implicating Hong Jian as well. In truth, were it not for Yao Zhen, Hong Jian’s breakthrough before the exam—after stagnating at the fourth stage of Qi Refinement for over a year—would have earned her second place, drawing little attention. Her superior understanding of the “Water Condensation Technique” had surpassed others at the fifth stage, like Qi Xiuning. Yet with Yao Zhen’s meteoric rise beside her, it made Hong Jian’s achievement seem as dubious as the first place, as if both owed their success to questionable origins.

Hong Jian could see how proud Yao Zhen was to have claimed first place. Yao Zhen held her chin high and ignored all speculation, speaking only to Hong Jian: “Junior Sister Hong Jian, I know they’re jealous, and you must feel curious too. You probably want to ask but hesitate. I’ll tell you—I simply had a stroke of luck, the same as you. Hmph, if not for that, with Qu Changhe’s attitude—finding it a bother to even glance our way—we’d have never known our own worth. Our lives would have been wasted. Serves them right to feel uncomfortable!”

Hong Jian was silent.

She hadn’t realized how much resentment Yao Zhen harbored. The truth was, Yao Zhen had guessed correctly; Hong Jian herself had recently experienced a “stroke of luck.” Not wishing to reveal the mysterious figure she’d met, Hong Jian wisely kept Yao Zhen’s secret as well.

The small Hong Jian felt a pang of melancholy—this was her dearest friend, and yet a gulf had grown between them almost without notice.

Fortunately, her unease was soon dispelled by good news from Fang Zheng. The assessment for the Wood Spiritual Root was much like that of the Water Spiritual Root; to reach the third stage of Qi Refinement at nine years old was rare. Sadly, Fang Zheng’s grasp of the “Greenwood Technique” was shallow, and he ultimately ranked fifth.

Hong Jian reflected that sects like Xianyun Sect and Little Yingzhou had brought over a dozen Qi Refinement disciples for the selection. With Dan Cliff Sect enjoying the advantage of being the host, their quota would not be fewer. Elder Yan directly requested the top ten names, so Fang Zheng’s fifth place for Wood Spiritual Root secured his entry into the final selection, allowing Hong Jian to breathe a great sigh of relief.

Hong Jian herself paid little mind to being chosen by a Nascent Soul master. Female disciples were always discriminated against, and even if there was a chance, Yao Zhen—with her superior abilities—stood ahead. Thus, Hong Jian devoted all her energies to Fang Zheng.

When it came to the comprehension of techniques, teaching hand-in-hand could only go so far; subtle insights depended on individual talent, especially with the “Greenwood Technique,” which Hong Jian herself could not cultivate. Fang Zheng worked hard, but his progress was slow, causing Hong Jian much distress. After several days, she realized belatedly that since the eccentric had taught her the “Ten Thousand Streams Return to the Source,” he had not appeared at the rocky shore again.

Had he left? That day, she saw him enter the Endless Sea—did he reside somewhere on one of its islands? What kind of person was he, lurking mysteriously around Dan Cliff Sect, and what were his intentions?

In this period, several more sects sent Qi Refinement disciples to Dan Cliff Sect. On the eighth day after Hong Jian and her peers completed their sect assessment, fifteen Qi Refinement disciples from Dan Cliff Sect received a notice, summoning them to the main hall at dawn to meet with Sect Leader Dai of the Talisman Sect and Elder Jin Donglou, the Nascent Soul grand elder of their own sect. Hong Jian and Fang Zheng were among them.

Hong Jian noticed that neither Chen Zaizhi, who failed the assessment, nor Zheng Jin, who had turned eighteen, were included. Clearly, the selection by the Nascent Soul master was serious.

When the moment arrived, Fang Zheng was still unaware of what tomorrow entailed. Hong Jian dared not burden him with too much pressure; she wasn’t angry that he found the “Ten Thousand Transformations Life and Death Technique” uncomfortable. Holding his hand as they left the cave, she reminded him to rest early that night, not to speak carelessly the next day, and not to be nervous.

Fang Zheng agreed obediently. Hong Jian told him to go ahead; watching her younger brother skip and hop as he ran home, Hong Jian felt a sense of resignation to fate.

A small stone suddenly landed beside Hong Jian, startling her. She quickly turned to look.

The man in the cloak was slouched bonelessly against a large rock, gazing at her with leisurely composure.

“Ah, senior, it’s been a while since I saw you.” Hong Jian ran over, her voice tinged with a joy she herself hadn’t realized.

The man said nothing, tossed away the remaining stones in his hand, dusted off his palms, and went to sit on a reef facing the Endless Sea, showing Hong Jian only his back.

Hong Jian paid no mind to the mysterious man’s coldness, and took a seat beside him, tilting her head to ask, “Senior, when did you arrive?”

“You were with that boy.”

“Oh?”

“He said he was uncomfortable, in pain, but it’s all a lie.”

Hong Jian didn’t understand why he brought this up, but replied, “Yes, I know.”

“He isn’t lazy—he just doesn’t want you to go to such lengths for him.”

Hong Jian paused, then pouted and chided, “That rascal, he’s learned to be sly.” Though she spoke thus, her eyes slowly reddened.

The man was silent for a while, then suddenly said, “Very good.” The remark was so abrupt and vague that Hong Jian barely caught it; she only sensed that the senior’s mood had plummeted, and cautiously asked, “Senior, what did you just say?”

He replied coolly, “I’m leaving.”

Hong Jian suddenly understood, and a wave of reluctance rose in her heart. This nameless senior, though he’d taken a “Weak Rain Pill” from her, had taught her many things no one else had. She knew Qu Changhe could never have taught her such things, and the monotonous days of cultivation became lively simply by conversing with him.

Hong Jian pulled a bitter face and asked, “You won’t return? Will we never see you again?”

The man snorted, “What, you can’t bear to part with me?”

Hong Jian nodded earnestly.

He glanced at her, but couldn’t bring himself to utter a sarcastic retort. The two sat in silence for a while, until Hong Jian timidly ventured, “Senior, last time I saw you leave, you went into the sea. Do you live in the Endless Sea?”

The man did not deny it. After a time, he suddenly asked, “Little girl, have you ever entered the Endless Sea? Do you know what lies east, beyond the Endless Sea?”

Hong Jian had never heard anyone speak of this. She was always absorbed in cultivation, with no time for idle thoughts, so she hesitated, “Beyond the sea—is it the continent?”

The man smiled oddly, “It is the continent, but you can’t go there, nor can I. That is the domain of the Demon Cultivators. Do you know what Demon Cultivators are?”

Hong Jian jumped in fright. Demon Cultivators—the term was vaguely familiar, but where had she heard it? No one at Dan Cliff Sect ever mentioned it. It must have been before she arrived—who had spoken of it?

“Jian’er, look at you, covered in mud. Even that boy isn’t as mischievous as you. Be good, don’t run around, or Demon Cultivators will eat you.”

Her nose tingled, and she asked in a muffled voice, “Are they monsters and ghosts?”