The toll of the bell signaling the end of the assessment still echoed across the mountains as the crowds in the square gradually dispersed.
Xiaoyu drifted up from Lin Zhixue's shoulder and flew in front of Gu Yanqing, hands on its hips and its chin raised high.
“What a pity you weren't there just now! Zhixue was so cool on stage—that sword strike went whoosh, and that Lin Yuanfan's face completely changed!”
It gesticulated as it spoke, tracing an arc through the air with its tiny hands.
“You passed too?”
Crossing its arms, it looked him up and down before giving a grudging nod.
“Not bad. At least you didn't embarrass our Canglan City.”
Watching its ‘I’ll praise you if I have to’ expression, only one thought crossed Gu Yanqing's mind.
Was this artifact spirit always this noisy in the original novel?
Even though he had passed the assessment, he still had to suffer its complaints. On top of that, it was so loud, yet he had to pretend he couldn't hear a thing.
Lin Zhixue stood to the side, listening to Xiaoyu chatter away to itself; it seemed quite excited.
Fortunately, Jiang Yinglan appeared in the nick of time.
She stepped out from the crowd, still holding the roster scroll, the smile on her face noticeably more relaxed than usual.
“Congratulations to you both. You've passed.”
She looked at Lin Zhixue. “That final strike in the finals was splendid. I didn't misjudge you.”
Lin Zhixue bowed her head slightly. “Thank you.”
“All right, go collect what you're owed first,” Jiang Yinglan said, waving over two deacon disciples. “We can talk more once you've settled in.”
The two disciples each took one of them, parting ways at a fork in the path.
Gu Yanqing followed the guiding disciple through several mountain gates. The further inward they went, the quieter it became.
The inner disciples' residences lay behind a bamboo grove: individual detached courtyards, each with a bedroom and a cultivation room, as well as a small mountain spring diverted into the courtyard, its water gurgling softly.
It was certainly quiet and peaceful.
The disciple handed him the keys and a parcel before taking his leave, adding one last remark before departing.
“Inner disciples may collect thirty spirit stones and a bottle of Qi Gathering Pills each month. Pick them up at the Hall of Deacons at the beginning of the month.”
Gu Yanqing nodded and took note of it.
Setting the parcel at the head of the bed, he sat down by its edge.
The room was not large, but it had everything necessary.
The bedding was neat, with a low table and two meditation cushions arranged in the corner. Opening the back window offered a view of the bamboo grove and distant mountains.
It was quite similar to what he remembered from the original novel's descriptions—not luxurious, but considerably better than the outer sect's communal bunks.
He had entered the Yunxiao Sect and obtained an inner disciple token; everything was proceeding according to plan. Yet, in his heart, there was no feeling of relieved delight.
He could not say for sure what would happen in the future.
He did not know whether the troubles Lin Zhixue encountered after entering the sect in the original work would be brought forward or altered because of his intervention.
Before long, he stood up and walked toward the cultivation room. Regardless of what was to come, cultivating came first.
...
Lin Zhixue followed the other disciple for nearly half a shichen.
The outer sect area was far more expansive than the inner sect, lined with continuous rows of houses that were mostly small courtyards shared by three to five people.
The disciple leading the way pushed open the door to one of them. Four beds were arranged inside, with the one by the window unoccupied, offering a view of the mountain scenery outside.
The other female disciples sharing the room had not yet returned, leaving the place completely quiet.
“This is your bed. The bedding is in the wardrobe; make it yourself.”
“Outer disciples receive ten spirit stones and a bottle of Qi Gathering Pills each month.”
“Also, do not be late for morning classes at the Mao hour tomorrow. As for the rest, read the introductory handbook yourself.” Having delivered the instructions, the disciple left.
Lin Zhixue laid out the items she had received one by one onto the wooden bed boards.
Two sets of standard outer disciple Daoist robes were folded neatly, made of material finer than any clothing she had ever worn at home.
An introductory cultivation manual had “Yunxiao Sect Basic Mental Method” written neatly on the cover in regular script. Though the paper was rough, the print was clear, far better than the damaged scrolls she had fumbled through on her own in the Lin family.
A bottle of Qi Gathering Pills; pouring them out to count, there were exactly ten, enough to last her quite a while.
There was also a wooden token carved with her name, the words “Outer Sect” inscribed on the back, its edges polished smooth.
She turned the wooden token over and gazed at it for quite some time. Only three words were carved upon it: Lin Zhixue.
Just her own name.
Once darkness fell, she made her bed, changed into the newly issued Daoist robe, and straightened her collar in front of the bronze mirror.
The robe was light gray with bordered cuffs, fitting neatly around her waist.
Pushing open the door, she stepped outside. The night wind in the mountains carried a crisp chill and the scent of pine resin, far cleaner than the evening breezes of Canglan City.
She strolled slowly along the stone path, taking in many sights along the way that she could not name.
The stone pillars lining the road were carved with glowing formation patterns, illuminating the entire path as bright as day.
Suspended corridors connected two mountain peaks midair; figures walked along them, their robes fluttering as though they were treading upon the clouds. Atop a distant high tower, spiritual light flickered intermittently, like some sort of signal.
She paused at a fork in the road and looked at the signpost beside the path. Carved upon it were the words “Scripture Pavilion,” “Pill Hall,” and “Sword Pavilion.” She recognized every character, yet she could not imagine what any of those places looked like.
“That glowing tower is the Stargazing Platform,”
Xiaoyu floated beside her, pointing toward the distant high tower.
“The sect uses it to monitor fluctuations in spiritual energy.”
“That spirit spring we encountered in the mountains was probably detected by the Yunxiao Sect using a tower like that.”
It then pointed to the corridor suspended in midair. “That is the Cloud-Connecting Bridge. Disciples below Foundation Establishment cannot fly on swords, so they can only take that. It might look high to you now, but once you're used to walking it, you won't be scared.”
Lin Zhixue listened to its explanations as she walked, feeling a bit more at ease.
This stone path was long, stretching all the way from the dormitory area to the edge of the outer sect. Along the path were training grounds, the Dining Hall, the Miscellaneous Affairs Hall, and a small herb garden planted with spirit herbs.
She committed the location of each building to memory, like someone who had just moved into a new home, first figuring out which way the kitchen and bedroom doors opened.
She walked to the edge of a cliff, where the mountain wind blew against her face, faintly chilly.
Looking south from here, beyond the layered mountain ranges lay a vast plain, at the edge of which a few faint specks of light were dimly visible.
That was in the direction of Canglan City. She stood there for a moment, Xiaoyu floating quietly beside her without making a sound.
Then, taking a deep breath, she turned and walked back.
Starting tomorrow, this would be her beginning.
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