Mingzhi unbarred the door. The ironwood plank scraped against the frame, far louder than it should have been.
For a split second, he regretted opening it without checking through the crack.
Rou stood on the threshold, holding a small pouch of snacks. She was smiling, the expression bright and genuine—until her gaze traveled past Mingzhi’s shoulder.
She saw the red robes. The gold embroidery of the Phoenix.
Rou’s smile didn’t vanish.
It crystallized.
Too still. Too perfect.
The warmth drained from her eyes first.
She stepped inside, her movements fluid but guarded, like a river sensing a dam.
"Sect Master," Rou said, bowing low. Her voice was respectful, but there was a tightness in her jaw. "I did not realize you… personally inspected the Waste Sector accommodations."
Lin Qingyu pulled her hood back fully. She didn't look like a guest; she looked like she owned the hut, the floor, and the air they were breathing. She stood tall, her Fire Qi radiating a subtle, dry heat that instantly clashed with the cool, damp aura Rou naturally projected. The soot-stained walls seemed to lean away from her. Even the dim lantern flame straightened, as if acknowledging rank.
"A leader must know every corner of her domain," Qingyu said smoothly, though her eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed Rou. "And I see I am not the only one concerned with Disciple Xie’s welfare at this hour."
"Mingzhi and I are partners," Rou said, stepping to Mingzhi’s side.
Not behind him.
Beside him.
The air in the room grew heavy. "We share resources."
Qingyu’s gaze flicked—just once—to Rou’s hand near her sword. Then back to Mingzhi.
"Is that so?" her lips curved into a faint, challenging smile. "How fortunate for him."
Mingzhi stood between them, feeling the atmosphere distort. To his left, the air felt humid and heavy (Water). To his right, it was dry and scorching (Fire). It was like standing in the center of a localized weather front.
"Mingzhi," the Spirit’s voice drifted in, sounding genuinely perplexed. "Why is the atmospheric pressure fluctuating? I detect no active arrays, yet the elemental density in this room has become… volatile. In my era, this would have been resolved with a duel at dawn. Or a marriage. Sometimes both."
It’s worse, Mingzhi thought, rubbing his temples. It’s social physics.
"I brought you some of the snacks you like,"said Rou smiling at Mingzhi, while secretly glancing at Qingyu. "It’s just a little something to repay you for always helping me out."
The other party’s eyes started spitting fire.
"Thank you Rou," Mingzhi cut in, desperate to diffuse the pressure before his roof blew off. "You are very kind. The Sect Master was just… inspecting the new pill batch. Since you’re both here, we can save time."
He gestured to the two rush mats on the floor.
"Sit," he ordered. "Both of you."
Qingyu hesitated, glancing at the dirty floor, but she sat with elegant grace. Rou sat opposite her, back straight, sword placed deliberately within reach.
Mingzhi pulled out a vial.
"I already gave Qingyu her pills," he said, looking at the red porcelain bottle in her hands (The Fire Pills). "and this one is for Rou," he handed her a blue bottle (High-Grade Water).
"These are potent," Mingzhi warned. "Absorbing them requires focus. Since you are both here, I will act as the stabilizer. Take them."
Qingyu uncorked her bottle. "I have absorbed High-Grade pills before. I do not need a babysitter."
"I have perfect compatibility with Water," Rou added, looking at Qingyu. "I will be finished before the incense burns down."
Qingyu’s eyes flashed. "We shall see."
They swallowed the pills simultaneously.
For half a breath, neither moved.
Then both surged.
Boom.
The energy erupted in the small room.
On the left, a blue mist surged from Rou, smelling of ocean salt and rain. On the right, a heat haze shimmed off Qingyu, smelling of sulfur and charcoal.
The surge was violent.
Rou’s Water Qi didn’t flow — it crashed, expanding outward in a spiraling tide that rattled the loose planks of the hut.
Qingyu’s Fire didn’t burn — it compressed, drawing in air so fast the lantern guttered.
The wooden beams above them creaked.
“Fools. They are overclocking the intake,” the Spirit snapped. “If either loses control, the elemental backlash will not politely remain inside their meridians. Why are they sabotaging their own absorption just to be faster than the other? This behavior is illogical.”
Mingzhi felt the pressure building — not just between them, but against the structure of the room itself.
“It’s competitive,” he said through his teeth.
He stepped between them.
He didn’t think — he reacted.
His left palm pressed onto Rou’s back. Cold flooded up his arm, numbing his fingers instantly.
His right hand struck Qingyu’s shoulder. Heat tore across his meridians like liquid iron.
He forced his Earth Qi outward — thick, heavy, compressive.
The three auras collided.
The floor cracked beneath his feet.
If he lets go, neither girl would merely deviate—the hut itself would become a crater.
“Slow. Down,” Mingzhi commanded — but his voice came out strained.
Rou resisted first. Pride.
Qingyu resisted harder. Authority.
For one dangerous second, neither yielded.
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Mingzhi increased the gravity field.
Pain lanced through his Seed.
“Now,” he growled.
This time, they obeyed.
Rou flinched, her brows knitting. She fought his suppression for a second, wanting to push ahead, but then yielded to his rhythm. Qingyu was more stubborn, her Fire flaring up in irritation, but Mingzhi squeezed her shoulder, forcing the heat down.
For twenty minutes, Mingzhi stood there, sweating, acting as a human insulator for two geniuses who refused to lose.
Finally, the auras settled.
Rou opened her eyes first, exhaling a plume of white mist. Her skin looked translucent, glowing with power.
"Done," she whispered, looking at Qingyu.
A second later, Qingyu opened her eyes, a flame flickering deep in her pupils. "Stabilized."
They glared at each other.
"Tie," Mingzhi declared, pulling his hands back and shaking the numbness from them. "Congratulations. Those pills should sustain your cultivation until you reach the mid-stages of your current levels. Do not take another one until you reach the high-stages."
His vision blurred when he pulled his hands away.
He hid it by turning toward the wall.
He slumped against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I feel like I just wrestled a bear."
"A bear would be simpler," the Spirit observed. "A bear has predictable kill-patterns. These two... their judgment is being overridden by instinct and pride. Primitive… but depressingly effective. I see why ancient wars were fought over less."
Qingyu stood up, smoothing her robes. She looked at Mingzhi, her expression softening now that the cultivation contest was over.
"You look tired, Mingzhi," she said. "What is your plan now?"
"My cultivation is too slow," Mingzhi admitted, looking at his hands. "Even with the High-Grade stones, my 20% constitution is a bottleneck. I’m filling a bucket with a spoon."
He looked at the door.
"The breakthrough I had in the woods... fighting the wolf... it proved something. I need pressure. The quiet meditation isn't working fast enough. I plan to go on another mission immediately."
Qingyu frowned. "Immediately? You just returned."
"The momentum is there," Mingzhi said. "I need to fight for every extra step I can take in cultivation. Going out now is a logical choice."
"I can't leave the Sect right now," Qingyu said, frustration coloring her voice. "With Elder Zhang gone, I have to preside over the Morning Council every day to maintain the illusion of order. I cannot watch your back."
She looked at him intensely.
“Be careful,” she said, and for once there was no rank in her voice. “If you die… I lose more than an alliance.”
"I'm free," Rou piped up, stepping forward. She flashed a smile at Qingyu—bright, sharp, and helpful. "I have no council duties. I can leave the Sect anytime. If Ming'er needs a bodyguard, I am the best choice."
Qingyu’s expression tightened. She looked at Rou, then at Mingzhi. The dynamic was clear: The Sect Master had the power, but the Partner had the freedom.
"Fine," Qingyu said coolly. "Disciple Chen is... capable. Take her if you must."
"Actually," Mingzhi interrupted, seeing the spark in Rou’s eyes. "I need to first see the available pair missions, if there are any suitable ones."
Rou looked a little disappointed, but the logic held. She nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But come to me anytime I can accompany you."
"I will."
Qingyu pulled her hood up. "I must return before the patrols switch. Mingzhi... do not take unnecessary risks."
She glanced at Rou one last time—a look of mutual assessment—and swept out of the hut, vanishing into the night.
Rou lingered for a moment. "She's... intense."
"She's stressed," Mingzhi said. "Go rest, Rou. I'll see you if there’s anything."
Rou squeezed his hand briefly, then left, heading back up the path toward the light of the dorms.
Mingzhi barred the door. He leaned his back against it and slid down to the floor, letting out a long, groaning exhale.
"Finally," he whispered. "It felt like a lifetime."
"I do not understand," the Spirit said. "Why were they acting like that? And why were they looking at each other like two tigers circling a lone deer? The deer has no meat on it."
"It's not about meat, Spirit," Mingzhi muttered, pushing himself up. "It's about territory."
“If either of them advances again today, I recommend you flee the premises.” added the Spirit.
He grabbed his pack, walking towards the door.
"Let's go to the Mission Hall," Mingzhi said, opening the door again. "I need to find some stimulating missions to take."
The Mission Hall was buzzing with the usual evening rush, but Mingzhi moved through the crowd with singular focus. He bypassed the low-level gathering requests and went straight to the "Joint Missions" board—tasks designed for teams, usually offering higher rewards and significantly higher risks.
He scanned the parchment sheets, his eyes filtering the noise.
Hunt: Iron-Mane Lion Pride. (Requires 3 Disciples. Reward: 60 Points). Too messy.
Escort: Ore Shipment to the Northern Mines. (Requires 2 Disciples. Reward: 40 Points). Too slow.
His finger stopped on a scroll near the bottom, written in red ink.
Gathering: Crimson-Vein Earth Fruit.
Location: The Titan’s Spine Gorge.
Requirement: Minimum 2 Cultivators.
Danger Level: High.
Reward: 150 Contribution Points.
Mingzhi frowned. "A gathering mission that requires a team? And classified High Danger?"
"Spirit," he projected. "The Titan’s Spine?"
"A geological anomaly," the Spirit replied, its interest piqued. "The earth veins there are twisted, creating zones of hyper-gravity. It is an ideal environment for Earth-attribute herbs to mature... and for bones to snap under their own weight."
“The gravity fluctuations are not uniform,” it added. “One step may feel normal. The next may multiply your body weight. Many cultivators die not from beasts — but from misjudging a single step.”
"Hyper-gravity," Mingzhi mused. "Pressure."
He ripped the scroll off the board and walked to the counter.
The Deacon—the same bespectacled old man who had processed the Liu family reward—looked up. When he saw Mingzhi, he adjusted his glasses, a look of weary disbelief crossing his face.
"You again?" the Deacon sighed. "Were those hundred points not enough to keep you fed for a month?"
"I'm looking for a challenge," Mingzhi said, placing the red scroll on the counter. "I want to take this one."
The Deacon glanced at the scroll, then at Mingzhi. His eyes went wide.
“Are you here to cultivate… or to disappear?” The Deacon scoffed. "I get it. You got lucky with the Liu boy. You think you're touched by destiny. But this? With your meager strength? And the ground doesn’t even bother killing you quickly."
"What is so dangerous about picking fruit?" Mingzhi asked calmly.
"Ignorance is fearless," the Deacon muttered, shaking his head. "Why do you think no one has taken this for weeks? Titan’s Spine isn't just a gorge. It’s a death trap. The Earth Qi is so dense it crushes the lungs. And because of that density, even Tier 2 Spirit Beasts nest there."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping.
"Even the Inner Sect Elders hesitate to go deep into the Spine without preparation. Going there with your cultivation is suicide. And it requires a team. Where is your partner?"
"My partner is... the same as before," Mingzhi said smoothly. "I'm going to pick her up tomorrow."
He smiled, a look of calm confidence that unsettled the old man. "I would like to try my luck."
The Deacon stared at him for a long moment, then groaned, rubbing his forehead. "It’s your funeral, kid. Just don't haunt me when you're a pancake."
He stamped the scroll with a heavy thud.
Outside the Mission Hall
Three figures stood half-hidden in the shadows of the massive wooden doors.
"Boss," Li whispered, pointing a trembling finger. "Look. He's here again."
Wang Hu stood in the center, flanked by Li and Zhou. The brute’s arms were crossed, his biceps bulging against his sleeves, but his eyes were sharp and cold.
"Oho," Wang Hu murmured, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "He hasn't had enough of tricking you two? He's trying his luck again?"
"We'll go in and teach him a lesson right now!" Zhou hissed, reaching for his dagger. "The Hall is crowded; we can bump him and break a rib before the Enforcers see."
"No, idiots," Wang Hu snapped, grabbing Zhou’s shoulder with a grip like iron.
"If you go now, he will be on guard during the mission," Wang Hu said, his voice low. "The last time, he probably noticed your killing intent the moment you saw him. That’s why he was prepared with that dust trick. Do not alert the prey before the trap is set."
"But Boss," Li whined. "How do we know which mission he chose if we don't go in?"
Wang Hu sighed, looking at his lackeys with genuine pity for their intelligence. No wonder he played you like fiddles.
"Can't we just ask the Deacon after he leaves?" Wang Hu said. "Money talks louder than rules."
"Boss, you are smart," Zhou grinned.
They waited. A few minutes later, Mingzhi walked out of the hall, tucking a scroll into his sash. He didn't look around. He walked straight toward the Waste Sector.
Once Mingzhi was gone, Wang Hu strode into the hall.
He walked up to the counter, leaning casually against the wood.
"Excuse me," Wang Hu said, putting on a charming, concerned smile. "My friend... the boy who just left. He seemed very agitated. I'm really worried about him. His strength is still weak, and I fear he might have picked something too dangerous."
The Deacon looked up, his expression bored. "We cannot disclose mission details about other disciples. It is confidential."
Wang Hu didn't blink. He slowly slid his hand across the counter. Beneath his palm was the faint, warm glow of a Low-Grade Spirit Stone.
"I just want to make sure he's safe," Wang Hu whispered. "We are... close."
The Deacon glanced at the stone. With a practiced motion, he swept his sleeve over the counter, and the stone vanished.
"Sorry," the Deacon muttered, sliding the ledger slightly so it was visible. "I really can’t help you."
Wang Hu peeked at the entry. Crimson-Vein Earth Fruit. Titan’s Spine.
He straightened up, his smile widening into something predatory.
"Never mind. Thank you for your time, Deacon. ."
He turned and walked out, his lackeys scrambling to keep up.
"Titan's Spine?" Zhou asked excitedly. "Just tell us where he enters, Boss. We will ambush him and repay the humiliation double!"
Wang Hu stopped in the middle of the plaza. The night was fully setting in now, shadows stretching long and dark. His eyes glowed with a dangerous light.
"He is pretty daring, isn't he? Going to a death zone without knowing his limits."
Wang Hu did not laugh.
He simply memorized the name.
Titan’s Spine.
A place where accidents were common.
A place where screams did not carry far.
He turned toward the outer gate without another word.
His lackeys followed, suddenly very quiet.
The hut survives... for now. Mingzhi called it a tie. I'm not so sure. Who actually won that round? Feel free to tell me why if you're brave enough.
