Situated deep within the borders of the Star Luo Empire, Gengxin City was known far and wide as the City of Metal. Forged in iron and fire, its renown came from the continent's greatest smiths, whose hammers shaped weapons, armor, and even delicate spirit tools that fetched sky-high prices. The city's economy thrived on the endless ring of anvils, where sparks flew day and night.
Four days later, a modest carriage approached its towering gates. Unlike the luxurious vehicles of noble clans, this one bore no crest or insignia. To the gate guards, it was just another merchant's cart returning from the road.
The carriage halted with a gentle creak.
"Madam, please come out," the coachman called, his voice respectful. "Your destination has come."
From within, a clear, melodic woman's voice replied, "Thank you for your service."
A slender hand extended from the window, pale as jade, pressing five gleaming silver coins into the coachman's rough palm. His eyes widened in disbelief; such a sum was more than enough to feed his entire family for a month. He bowed again and again, overwhelmed with gratitude.
Then she stepped down.
A black-haired woman in her early twenties, her presence sharp as a hidden blade. Her aura was restrained, yet those with keen senses would detect the rippling spirit energy of a Soul King. For a traveler so young to have reached the fifth rank, she was no ordinary visitor.
Her steps were graceful as she approached the city gates, but her cool eyes scanned her surroundings with the practiced wariness of someone on a mission.
The guards, distracted by the bustle of merchants and smiths shouting about ore prices, barely gave her more than a cursory glance before letting her through.
She was Wu Meng, Qian Renxue's personal maid. Yet to call her a "maid" was a disservice. In any other sect or clan, her cultivation talent would have made her a chief disciple, perhaps even a core successor. But standing beside Qian Renxue, her brilliance was overshadowed, her presence mistaken for that of a servant rather than what she truly was confidant, and, at times, the elder sister Qian Renxue never had.
Wu Meng's origin was humble, even tragic. She had been found abandoned at a Spirit Hall branch as an infant, swaddled in nothing but rags. By coincidence, Qian Daoliu himself had been visiting the branch that day. For reasons even he could not fully explain, the old man had felt an unusual affinity with the child. He personally brought her back to Spirit City, raising her within the Elder's Hall.
Her martial soul, the Spirit Butterfly, was elegant yet formidable—a soul of agility, speed, and mental fortitude. It granted her unmatched dexterity in battle and sharpened her mental defenses.
From childhood, cultivation was her only purpose. She rarely spoke, rarely mingled, and rarely let herself dream of anything beyond becoming strong enough to repay the man who had saved her. But that changed, when Qian Renxue was five years old.
On the day of the accident , healers' verdict still echoed in her ears: "Young Master, Qian Renxue may not survive the day."
Back then, Qian Renxue's condition had baffled even the most skilled healers of Spirit Hall. The injury was not an external wound, but something akin to internal bleeding in the brain—an affliction even healing-type martial souls could not mend. Yet against all logic, against all odds, the child miraculously survived.
For Wu Meng, it was a revelation, a way to repay the grace.
Time: Shortly after Qian Renxue returned from the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well.
Wu Meng had stood before Qian Daoliu, resolute.
"Master," she said softly, "please assign me as a maid to Young Master Qian Renxue."
Qian Daoliu, who had just breathed easier after confirming Renxue's health, looked at her in surprise. Then, with a sigh, he spoke, "Meng… how many times have I told you? Call me Grandfather."
She lowered her gaze, but her voice did not waver. "Grandfather… I owe my life to you. Please let me serve her directly."
The old man's stern eyes softened. "Meng, you must understand. To be a maid means endless responsibilities, duties that may chain you to her needs. It could delay your cultivation. It could even waste your potential."
But Wu Meng stood firm. "Then let my potential be wasted."
Qian Daoliu studied her for a long moment, then finally relented. His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes held the weight of countless unspoken worries. "Stubborn girl… very well. But remember this: you are not just her maid."
Wu Meng still continued, " I don't want her to know my identity, so that she will treat me differently."
Qian Daoliu had sighed, knowing that he could not change her stuborn mind- he nodded
And so, Wu Meng's life became inseparably tied to Qian Renxue's.
----
Stepping down from the carriage, Wu Meng was immediately struck by the heavy clang of hammers against anvils. The air was thick with the smell of burning coal and molten metal. The streets of Gengxin City were lined with blacksmith shops—truly, every ten steps one could find a forge.
Her sharp eyes swept over the bustling cityscape.
'One in every ten people here is a blacksmith,' she mused. The rhythm of the city was the rhythm of iron itself.
Her mind drifted back to the moment Qian Renxue had entrusted her with this mission. A thin notebook had been pressed into her hands.
"I trust you, Sister Wu Meng," Qian Renxue had said, her purple eyes gleaming with confidence. "You can do this."
Wu Meng had smiled faintly then, though her heart had been restless.
'What goes on inside that little head of hers? She's eccentric… brilliant, but eccentric. I never truly understand her.'
' I thought she never knew about my identity, however it seems she knew it long before and just kept the illusion.'
She shook her head softly as she walked deeper into the city.
'Even so, when she called me 'sister,' I knew she had already seen through me.'
Then her gaze hardened as she passed another row of smiths. "If the information we gathered is true… then the Spirit Hall Branch here truly needs to be purged."