Shang Can came from another world.
She wasn’t sure whether to consider herself lucky or unlucky. On the unlucky side, she was hit by a car while walking down the street in her previous life. However, she had the rare chance to cross over into this new world and live another life. On the lucky side, when she first arrived and opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by ruins, with not a soul alive for miles. At that time, her body, which for some unknown reason had shrunk, seemed to be no more than ten years old.
Had she not been picked up and taken to Qingyu by the passing Wangyue just days after arriving, Shang Can might have met her end within the first month of her crossing over.
She was fortunate to possess excellent talent, allowing her to join Qingyu as a disciple. Her cultivation journey had been smooth and uneventful, never encountering any major difficulties. And then, and then—
Shang Can opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
She reached for the pouch by her bedside, her hand rummaging through it before suddenly stopping.
Her fingers tensed slightly, touching something smooth and cool—a jade object quietly nestled in her palm.
Without taking it out, Shang Can knew exactly what it was. It was a simple, unadorned white jade mask, save for the bare minimum of carving. Clean and translucent, no one would ever guess that this was the exclusive item of the fearsome Biluohuangquan demon cultivator, Canzhe.
Knock, knock.
“Hey—why aren’t you up yet? It’s time—”
An abrupt knock on the door, followed by Wan Shao’s voice from the other side, broke the silence. Shang Can closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and calmed herself.
She tied the pouch shut, got out of bed, and answered, “I’m coming.”
Today marked the start of the Dao Discussion Assembly, and the streets of Yanyang were bustling with activity. Shang Can and Wan Shao strolled through the streets, listening to the lively vendors advertising things like “Cloud Prince’s Sword Pendant” or “Qingyu Yushan’s Handwritten Calligraphy,” making light comments on the prosperity around them.
“No wonder they don’t restrict the Dao Assembly to just cultivators. If they did, Tianwaitian would miss out on a lot of money.”
Wan Shao, marveling at the talismans and spirit stones now on display at stalls that used to sell street food, clicked her tongue in amazement. Shang Can glanced over and laughed. “After all, the world reveres immortality. Since cultivation is for the benefit of all living beings, it wouldn’t make sense to shut ordinary people out of the assembly.”
“I didn’t expect you to sound so official, Shang—” Wan Shao stopped herself abruptly, correcting, “—Gong Shang.”
“You might want to say it a few more times to make sure you remember it, Zhi Yu.”
Wan Shao, pouting in defeat, acknowledged the teasing. Shang Can—now going by the name Gong Shang—squinted her eyes, feeling this whole situation was rather risky.
‘Getting that Heart Lotus Seed would be tough if we just tried to snatch it, but we can win it fair and square by becoming the champion of the Dao Assembly, can’t we?’
In her memory, Wan Shao had been quite serious, patting Shang Can’s shoulder earnestly.
‘—From today on, you’re Gong Shang of Bi Cang Sect, and I’m Zhi Yu of Bi Cang Sect.’
Truth be told, they were exploiting a loophole in the assembly’s relatively loose entrance rules. As one of the leading sects in the cultivation world, Tianwaitian had broad, lenient entry requirements, sending out invitation letters to many sects, large and small. Aside from a strict age limit, there were no other conditions, and each sect could decide who to send.
As for Bi Cang Sect, it was a minor sect that had received an invitation. While its founding master had been somewhat capable, the sect had declined with each generation, becoming virtually unknown and cutting off contact with the outside world—naturally, no one knew it had long since fallen under the control of Biluohuangquan.
Thus, the Demon Lord of Biluohuangquan generously obtained two invitations and, in an act of loyalty, accompanied Shang Can—who desperately needed the Heart Lotus Seed—by taking on the identities of two Bi Cang disciples and coming to Yanyang.
“Listen, Gong Shang, we’ve gone through so much to get this far. That lotus seed must be ours.”
It seemed Wan Shao had been practicing, as this time she called Shang Can’s alias with ease, her expression stern, leaving no room for joking. Shang Can nodded in agreement.
“Of course, now that we’re here.”
Ignoring the exasperated admonition from Wan Shao beside her, “Can you please lift your spirits!”, Shang Can gazed absently into the distance, where she could faintly see the gates of Tianwaitian.
She had been searching for the Heart Lotus Seed for nine years, hoping this would be her last stop.
Having arrived smoothly at the foot of Tianwaitian, Wan Shao furrowed her brow and looked at the crowd ahead, unable to suppress a low curse, “…There are just too many cultivators here. Do they think this is a market fair?”
“At least a third of them are ordinary people here to gawk. Among the cultivators, half will be weeded out today, so I suppose they’re just here for the spectacle,” Shang Can replied.
Upon hearing Shang Can’s words, Wan Shao again scanned the area with narrowed eyes, quickly noticing the obvious differences between the cultivators and the common folk. The most striking distinction was that the cultivators were all immaculately dressed, looking polished and neat.
In the world of cultivation, white was the predominant color. Wan Shao looked around coldly and noted that out of ten cultivators, at least seven or eight were wearing white robes.
She thought to herself that they all seemed to look quite similar, yet she couldn’t help but scrutinize Shang Can, who stood casually beside her.
The other wore a mask that Wan Shao had modified. While it was no longer as plain as before, it still barely qualified as handsome. Today, however, Shang Can wore a dark robe, making her stand out starkly among the crowd of lighter-clad cultivators.
As Wan Shao observed the bright red patterns stitched onto the hem of her robe, she sighed with mixed feelings, “…You look just like a demonic cultivator today.”
“Too much praise,” Shang Can replied with a chuckle.
Joking back and forth, they made their way to the registration desk. Shang Can pulled out the invitation from Bi Cangmen and handed it to the Tianwaitian disciple in charge of registration, and Wan Shao quickly followed suit.
“Number two hundred forty-seven… and two hundred forty-eight.”
From the disciple’s expression, it was clear he had never heard of Bi Cangmen before, but he skillfully concealed his confusion and handed them numbered tokens, indicating they could enter Tianwaitian.
“In two hours, the entry will close. At that time, a random one-on-one duel will be held among the participants of the Dao Assembly. You two can first infuse your tokens with spiritual energy to assess your intentions. Only cultivators who pass both the assessment and the duel will truly qualify to participate in the Dao Assembly.”
“Also, there’s a spiritual barrier in Tianwaitian. Please note that no spells are allowed outside the arena,” he added.
After thanking him, the two meandered into Tianwaitian. Instead of following the crowd, they lingered at the entrance, praising the lavish grandeur of Tianwaitian.
“It’s even more impressive than when I came here for my studies before. Can’t we at Bi Cangmen remodel like this?”
“Haha, we simply don’t have the funds.”
After sharing a few lighthearted banter, Wan Shao stepped aside, as if guarding Shang Can and pointed her chin forward.
“Alright, you go deal with that assessment. I won’t join the fray.”
“Indeed, at your age, even if you went for the assessment, they would just kick you out.”
Noticing the vein throbbing on Wan Shao’s forehead, Shang Can smiled at her, holding her token, and a flash of golden spiritual energy surged through her palm. Suddenly, everything went dark, and her consciousness sank as if she had fallen from a great height.
The so-called “assessment” was a common celestial technique in the cultivation world, wherein the practitioner would enter an illusionary realm, a shifting landscape created by their own heart. To successfully escape the illusion without external aid was to pass the assessment.
Generally, the purpose of the assessment was to sharpen the disciples’ resolve. Currently, Tianwaitian likely had an age limit for participation, to prevent older cultivators from taking advantage of the situation.
As a demon, Wan Shao far exceeded that age limit, and the powerful demonic energy she had painstakingly concealed would be exposed in the assessment. Therefore, her real reason for coming to this Dao Assembly was merely to join the crowd and assist Shang Can.
Shang Can, on the other hand, was no stranger to the assessment.
The larger celestial sects were stricter in testing their disciples’ resolve. The two leading sects in the cultivation world, besides Tianwaitian, were the Celestial Mountain of Qingyu. One was worldly, and the other was reclusive; both were prominent names in the cultivation realm, maintaining a harmonious relationship and regularly exchanging disciples for study.
Qingyu held assessments frequently, requiring disciples to undergo the “Questioning Heart” at Yao Guang Peak whenever they made progress. While Tianwaitian’s assessments weren’t as frequent as Qingyu’s, the strictness and high standards of Tianwaitian made failing the assessment commonplace. Those lucky enough might only suffer minor internal injuries, while others could even regress in their cultivation.
When Shang Can had studied at Tianwaitian, she had faced great difficulties in the assessment. At that time, they used the lake “Qinglian” within Tianwaitian for the assessment, but this new assessment for the Dao Assembly was likely different and would at least be simpler.
Clearing her mind of distracting thoughts, Shang Can soon felt the ground beneath her again. The darkness lifted, revealing a gentle light source before her, with illumination seeping through her closed eyelids.
After a moment, she slowly opened her eyes and quietly held her breath.
Surrounding her was an endless expanse of white space, glowing faintly from all directions, yet the source of the light was nowhere to be found. In front of her stood a large mirror, almost as tall as herself, the only object in this empty realm.
“…”
Shang Can’s gaze flickered as she walked toward the mirror, her expression calm as she looked into it.
The figure in the mirror gazed back at her, familiar yet slightly youthful. With her long hair casually tied back with a ribbon, her beautiful eyes sparkled, exuding an inner radiance reminiscent of mountains and stars, full of youthful spirit.
Shang Can coldly scrutinized the simple white robe adorned with glimmering threads that faintly outlined cloud patterns, accentuating her tall and graceful figure.
An emerald token hung casually at her waist, slowly rotating, clearly inscribed with the two characters “Shang Can.”
“…Ha.”
Shang Can tilted her head, staring for a moment before suddenly laughing. She reached out without hesitation, her hand touching the cold mirror surface, tracing an imaginary line from the corner of her eye down to her waist.
“Missing a sword, aren’t I?”
Almost as soon as the words left her lips, Shang Can felt a new weight at her waist. Though she looked down to see nothing, her reflection in the mirror clearly showed a sword hanging at her side. The hilt was adorned with a not-so-exquisite red tassel that swayed gently, seemingly moved by an unseen breeze. Shang Can reached out to grasp it, only to feel it tickling her palm, leaving a light, itching sensation.
Without warning, the air around her shifted, and ripples spread across the mirror’s surface. Shang Can looked up and saw a figure slowly stepping into view at the edge of the mirror.
It was a woman.
Her long, jet-black hair draped lazily over her shoulders as she walked, flowing down like a soft cascade. She wore the same white cloud-patterned robes as Shang Can, but somehow, they looked more proper on her, lending her an air of grace and refinement. She was like a flawless jade, serene and elegant, her presence as ethereal as an immortal descended from the heavens.
A cold, fresh breeze, as crisp as new snow, swept in from behind. Shang Can remained silent, her eyes fixed on the mirror, unblinking, as the woman approached, stopping just a foot behind her. That face, so familiar, was as pale and flawless as jade, stunningly beautiful, with cool, dark eyes that gleamed with a subtle light. When their gazes met in the mirror, the woman’s lips curved into a faint smile.
A beauty like a flower, distant as the clouds.
Shang Can lowered her eyes and glanced at the sword hanging from the woman’s waist, as if it had been displayed there just for her to see. The word “Wuyou” was clearly engraved on the hilt.
With a soft sigh, Shang Can closed her eyes, but the gentle call carried on the wind still reached her ears.
“Shijie.”
The wind… why is there wind?
Shang Can thought vaguely, realizing that it wasn’t just the wind. The space around her was changing rapidly. The previously silent surroundings were gradually filling with life—the soft mountain breeze brushing against her neck, the clear sound of birdsong, the notes of a guqin played on the wind, and even the faint recitations of someone studying aloud, murmuring something about “not competing with the world’s warmth and cold.”
Qingyu disciples, not competing with the world’s warmth and cold.
She silently recited the phrase in her mind, then opened her eyes and cast one last glance at the mirror.
Reaching out, she placed her hand against the mirror, gently stroking it as if caressing a lover’s face. Her gaze was warm and tender, but in the next moment, flames erupted from her palm, wild and ferocious, consuming the mirror entirely.
Just before her consciousness left the Heart Trial, Shang Can tilted her head back, watching as the world around her shattered, and whispered softly,
“Not quite.”
When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the bustling crowd of Tianwaitian. Shang Can let out a slow breath, but before she could steady herself, Wan Shao grabbed her arm, almost pulling her off balance.
“You’ve been in there way too long! If I weren’t afraid of disturbing you, I would’ve dragged you out by now—let’s get out of here first!”
“…What’s going on?”
There was an unusual urgency in Wan Shao’s voice. Shang Can frowned and took a few steps in the direction Wan Shao was pulling her, but for some reason, the entrance to Tianwaitian was packed with people. Trying to move against the flow was a struggle.
Wan Shao rolled her eyes in frustration and, amidst the chaos, leaned in to explain in a low voice, glancing around nervously.
“…It’s about that information we gathered on Qingyu’s participants. Something’s… off.”
“Can’t you speak louder?”
The crowd’s noise was overwhelming, and Shang Can, wedged between people, could barely make out what Wan Shao was saying. Already feeling irritated by the cramped space, she began to glance around, wondering if she could use her light-body technique to leap over the crowd.
Just as she was intensely calculating whether that person’s head looked flat enough to step on, a sharp, resonant sword hum rang out from the entrance of Tianwaitian. The sound cut through the noisy crowd like a blade, and in an instant, the chatter died down.
That sound was hauntingly familiar.
Shang Can’s mind went blank, and Wan Shao, sensing the opportunity, hurriedly dragged her forward. Shang Can’s temples throbbed painfully, and she offered no resistance, stumbling along until she crashed into the shoulder of a male cultivator. Wincing, Shang Can instinctively looked up, but the man didn’t seem to notice her at all. Instead, he craned his neck to look outside, his expression openly admiring as he muttered under his breath,
“…Truly… a beauty, like a flower, distant as the clouds.”
Shang Can’s breath hitched, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her. She stood frozen in place, her body unresponsive.
Among the hushed murmurs of the cultivators around her, that cold, familiar voice she had heard during the Heart Trial pierced through the crowd like an arrow.
“Is it still possible to enter the Dao Assembly?”
“Y-yes! You made it just in time!”
The disciple guarding the entrance of Tianwaitian snapped back to his senses, trembling as he accepted the invitation token, his voice high-pitched with nerves.
“Number three hundred seventy-five, Qingyu, Yun Duan!”
A bitter taste filled Shang Can’s mouth. Quick as lightning, she lifted her hand to cover it, using the wide sleeves of her robe to discreetly cough up blood.
Without turning back, she staggered away, fleeing.
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