Mist rose in veils from the ground, not of water but of qi—dense, luminous, alive. It curled between cliffs that jutted like the ribs of a sleeping dragon, every surface pulsing faintly with veins of spirit light. Glowing flora bloomed from cracks in the rock, their petals swaying in rhythm with the breathing of the realm itself.
The hidden valley within the Spirit Realm was no mere terrain—it was a living heart.
Tiān Lán stepped forward, robes brushing against shimmering grass that sighed softly at his passing. His gaze swept across the valley, every ripple of energy, every hidden fluctuation laid bare before his perception. The Guardian drifted beside him, a silent star of condensed artifact light, its runes shifting like constellations in slow orbit.
"This valley," Tiān Lán murmured, his voice low, resonant, and steady, "holds herbs and minerals that appear only when the Spirit Realm itself wills it. Their medicine is pure, untainted. If refined correctly, it could strengthen the very soul."
Yao Xiangyi's eyes glimmered with curiosity. "But Spirit Realm herbs are… alive. They change with every breath. One mistake, and they consume the refiner instead."
Lán Xi crouched near a bed of azure moss, watching it shimmer and withdraw at her proximity. "And others are watching. The moment we stir this place, they'll sense it."
"Then we move like the wind," Tiān Lán replied softly, "—seen by none, yet touching all."
He raised his hand. The Guardian pulsed once. Instantly, the scattered qi currents around them bent inward, falling into rhythm with his heartbeat. What was chaotic became calm. What was unstable found balance.
They reached the first grove: crimson lotus blossoms floating on shallow, luminous pools. Each pulse of their petals sent ripples of power through the air. Tiān Lán crouched beside them, eyes reflecting their light. He placed two fingers above the central bloom and whispered a chant—not of dominance, but of resonance. The lotus shuddered, recognizing the harmony of the tone.
A faint bell-like hum answered. The Guardian projected a lattice of golden light, capturing and stabilizing the flow. With surgical precision, Tiān Lán extracted the glowing core of the lotus. Threads of scarlet qi swirled briefly around his wrist, then vanished into an energy-sealed vessel.
Not a drop was wasted. Not a ripple disturbed.
They worked in silence after that—Lán Xi tracing containment runes across the stones, Yao Xiangyi forming arrays that looked like fragile snowflakes of light. Tiān Lán's gestures guided them all, each movement measured, elegant. Together, they carved a quiet masterpiece of balance amid the volatile landscape.
Then—
The valley screamed.
A fracture ran through the ground like lightning. The color of the air changed; what had been serene now surged. The crystal veins beneath the valley walls pulsed erratically, light cascading upward in blinding arcs.
"Back!" Tiān Lán's voice cut through the rising chaos.
The Guardian expanded instantly, its aura forming a dome of refracted qi. Shards of light and debris hung motionless in the air, frozen in a web of invisible threads.
"The herbs!" Yao Xiangyi's array flickered wildly. "They're resonating—they're—"
"Overfeeding," Tiān Lán finished, his tone unshaken.
He moved into the vortex, each step balanced against the riot of wind and light. Energy slashed past him, yet parted harmlessly as though the realm itself refused to harm him. The Guardian's runes blazed, syncing perfectly with his pulse. One breath. Two. Three. His eyes closed.
A soundless tremor rippled outward.
The vortex faltered. Every rogue current bent, unwillingly but inevitably, into his control. Qi that moments ago sought destruction now spun in precise spirals around his body, flowing into dormant crystal veins with mathematical beauty.
For a heartbeat, Tiān Lán stood at the center of a hurricane of color, his robe fluttering, hair rising with the storm—
and then silence fell.
The fragments of floating stone settled gently back into place. The air shimmered once, then cleared. The crimson lotuses glowed faintly, unharmed. Lán Xi's lips parted, disbelief softening into awe.
"That could have erased us," Yao Xiangyi whispered, still clutching her trembling array.
Tiān Lán turned, his expression calm, unreadable. "Power is only dangerous to those who fear it. To understand the unknown, we must first listen."
---
For three days, the valley became a sacred workshop.
The trio refined herbs of impossible purity, their movements synchronized to the rhythm of the Guardian's pulse. Each medicine glowed differently—some a soft blue that deepened qi control, others golden, weaving threads of stability into one's cultivation base. A few were silver, delicate, designed to heighten perception and intuition during combat.
When Tiān Lán worked, even the wind seemed to still. His fingers moved like calligraphy brushes across the surface of light, each stroke creating balance between elements. The Guardian mirrored his every motion—two beings, one will.
Then, one evening, the air changed again.
From within a crystal outcrop, a faint hum rose—a resonance too deliberate to be random. A glow seeped through cracks in the stone, expanding into a pulse of translucent energy. The Guardian flared defensively, positioning itself before Tiān Lán.
Lán Xi inhaled sharply. "That's not raw energy… that's a spirit essence."
The crystal sang again, deeper this time. Light spilled across the ground like liquid moonlight. Within it, a silhouette stirred—a consciousness without form, ancient and curious.
"It's watching us," Yao Xiangyi whispered.
Tiān Lán stepped forward. He extended his hand, palm open, not commanding—but inviting. The spirit essence hesitated, then pulsed in gentle reply. Slowly, it bridged the distance, resting its light against his palm.
At that moment, the medicine cauldrons glowed brighter. The volatile concoctions within, previously unstable, smoothed and harmonized, their energy condensing into perfect equilibrium. Tiān Lán's eyes half-closed, sensing the alignment.
"Even the realm acknowledges effort," he murmured. "Harmony is power refined into understanding."
The Guardian's hum softened. Around them, the valley brightened—not from light, but from resonance. They had passed an unspoken trial.
---
But beyond the mists, eyes were watching.
From a distant ridge of the Spirit Realm, hidden under cloaking talismans, rival cultivators murmured among themselves. "He stabilized a living crystal vein… with a spirit essence's aid?" one hissed. "That's impossible."
"Impossible for us," another muttered. "But he's not 'us.'"
Tiān Lán turned slightly, as if hearing their whispers through the realm's very heartbeat. His lips curved faintly, a shadow of amusement glinting beneath his calm exterior.
"Let them come," he said quietly. "Those who observe from fear… only prepare my next lesson."
---
That night, the valley bloomed.
Streams of qi formed gentle rivers of color, flowing between glowing herbs and crystals. The Guardian drifted above Tiān Lán's shoulder, its light merging with the mist until it looked like a star descending from the heavens. The trio sat within that glow—silent, composed, each breath drawing deeper understanding from the living world around them.
When dawn came, it was as if the valley itself bowed in acknowledgment. Every flower, every blade of spirit grass shimmered once, bending faintly toward Tiān Lán.
Far away, sect observers felt their hearts tremble. News of the Mountain Phantom spread like wildfire across the continents—not of another battle, but of a revelation:
that he had learned to commune with the Spirit Realm itself.
And somewhere beyond mortal eyes, ancient forces stirred—
for the one who could make heaven listen
had finally begun to speak its language.