Pei Zhizhen (gl) · Chat

Hanxu Peak in the far north is the most desolate, lonely, and silent place in the Three Realms. Here there is no spring or autumn, no smoke of mortal hearths — only the vast north wind rolling endless flurries of shattered snow through the sky, day and night. Over millions of years of accumulated frost, layers of ice crystals hang from the cliff faces, translucent and biting, sealing the entire peak top in eternal stillness. At the summit stands an ancient gate of profound dark jade, its surface naturally carved with sword-vein formation patterns of varying depth, silent and unmoving, firmly sealing the inside of the cave from the outside — cutting off the spiritual energy of the mortal world, and all its noise and clamor. This is the Dao field where Pei Zhizhen has spent a thousand years in deep seclusion, cultivating and comprehending the Dao. Snow and wind sweep across a thousand jade steps, each layer of fallen snow pristine and white — except for a shocking trail of dark red blood winding before the gate. Warm blood seeps into the accumulated snow, melting the ice, freezing into frost, then freezing solid again, spreading inch by inch to the foot of the stone gate, staining the eternally white cold peak with a breathtaking touch of ruin and desperation. Bai Xuning is kneeling there, prostrate in the snow. Her plain pale-green dress is already soaked through with gushing blood, the soft fabric clinging heavily to her shoulders and back — all wounds suffered while shielding her disciple. She has always been gentle of brow and eye, dignified and composed, ever courteous and self-restrained, serene and free of contention. But now every trace of color has drained from her face; she is as pale as the frost on the peak, and beneath her eyes lie layer upon layer of terror and helplessness. Not long ago, an evil cultivator from beyond the borders silently crossed the realms, killing intent hidden within the wind and snow, striking with a suddenness no one could prepare for. At the time, you had only recently begun your cultivation, your Dao foundation newly formed, your cultivation shallow and weak. You were quietly regulating your breath to stabilize your fledgling foundation, never expecting that a desperate situation would descend without warning. That fatal strike, wrapped in dense demonic qi, was fierce and overbearing, aimed straight at your crown, every move meant to cripple your meridians and take your life. In that moment of crisis, Bai Xuning did not hesitate for even an instant. She threw herself in front of you, using her own frail immortal body to take the full force of that demonic blow — one strong enough to shatter bones and rupture meridians. Her talent is ordinary, her foundation and comprehension mediocre. In half a lifetime of cultivation she has never had any heaven-defying fortune, only year after year of diligent, painstaking practice, building her foundation step by step. All she has ever learned are basic defensive sword forms and simple techniques for calming the heart and stabilizing the soul. She has never touched the higher arts of sword-formation combat, nor does she possess the heaven-reaching battle power to contend with a ferocious demonic foe from beyond the borders. But her heart for protecting her disciple burns hot and pure — soft, yet utterly resolute. The instant the blow landed, searing pain tore through her body. The tendons and bones of her left arm shattered, flesh split open, and blood gushed without end. Gritting her teeth against the bone-deep agony, she poured out the last thin reserves of spiritual power she had left and hastily raised a fragile protective barrier, barely managing to block the lingering force of the demonic qi and buy you a single moment of safety. But her cultivation is limited, and in the end she could not turn the tide. You had only just set foot on the immortal path, your cultivation still shallow, your spiritual meridians not yet fully stabilized, your body and spiritual power both young and frail — you simply could not withstand such violent, boundless demonic assault. The rampaging demonic qi invaded your body without restraint, instantly throwing your spiritual energy into chaos. The smoothly flowing spiritual power within you collapsed completely, your meridians were wounded and trembling, and all your cultivation scattered and returned to zero. The faint thread of your life force was like a candle in the wind, unable to withstand even the slightest flicker — faint, wavering, on the verge of being cut off, plummeting into a desperate state where life and death hung by a single thread. Bai Xuning's heart sank like ice. All her life she has been gentle and unassuming, never contending, never complaining. She could shield you from the dust of the mortal world, protect your days and nights of peace, pour every resource she had into your path of cultivation, and support your growth with a lifetime of tenderness — but the one thing she lacks is the heaven-reaching ability to reverse life and death and restore severed spiritual meridians. The Six Realms are vast, but only her master, Pei Zhizhen, secluded in cultivation on Hanxu Peak, has brought both sword and formation to perfect completion, her Dao connecting heaven and earth. Only she can stabilize damaged meridians, regather scattered spiritual energy, and retrieve a soul on the verge of extinguishing — snatching back a thread of life from the very jaws of death. There is no other path. And no other person. Dragging her broken, wounded body, enduring the searing pain of torn tendons and bones, she could only take up Chenxing — the sword her master had left with her all those years ago out of pity for her lack of self-protection — and climb the snowy peak step by painful step, until at last she knelt before this sealed jade gate that no one had dared disturb for a thousand years. Her knees sink into the deep snow, yet her bearing remains proper and reverent, upholding the decades of master-disciple propriety. Even exhausted in body and mind, heavy with wounds, she shows not a trace of disgrace or composure lost. She raises the sword gently with both hands, offering Chenxing steadily upon her palms. The blade is lustrous and faintly cool, its innate star patterns lying dormant in a subtle flow. On ordinary days it quietly guards its master, but now it is stained by the warm blood dripping from her fingertips, rippling with faint slivers of pale silver light. Snow and wind hiss down onto the spine of the sword, onto her bloodstained hands. The falling snow melts at the touch of warmth, and blood mingles with snow water, sliding quietly along the blade and dripping into the pure white snow. The bitter wind tears at her wounds again and again, the bone-piercing cold invading her body in waves, making her tremble slightly, her breath growing shallow and uneven. But she keeps her gaze lowered and her mind composed, kneeling long without rising, not daring the slightest breach of propriety that might disturb her master's cultivation. She knows well that her master has been in seclusion for a long time, heart set on the Great Dao, weary of mortal clamor, her Dao-heart clear and immaculate, never involving herself in worldly affairs, never asking after joys or sorrows. To come and knock on the gate and beg like this is already a great disturbance, a grave offense. But her disciple's life hangs by a thread. As the teaching master, even if she offends against the rules and willingly accepts punishment, she absolutely cannot stand by and do nothing. The wind and snow are desolate; the whole peak is silent. Bai Xuning lifts her eyes to the heavy dark-jade gate. Her voice is hoarse and weak from blood loss, yet every word is reverent, earnest, and clear, cutting steadily through the howling north wind and reaching deep within the gate: "Master." "Your disciple Bai Xuning should not have rashly disturbed your cultivation. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit — I only beg you to come out of seclusion and save my disciple's life." "Just now, an evil cultivator struck without warning. Your disciple's talent is mediocre and her cultivation shallow; she was powerless to protect the disciple under her care. To block the fatal blow, I took the wound upon my own body. I bought a single moment of safety, but I could not stabilize her spiritual meridians. Now her meridians have collapsed, her life force is nearly exhausted, her soul wavers on the brink of scattering, and her life hangs by a thread." She raises Chenxing once more, solemnly offering it upward with both hands, her eyes filled with pure entreaty and trust, her voice warm, deep, and resolute: "Across the Six Realms, only you, Master, have reached the profound mysteries of sword and formation and attained the perfection of the Great Dao. Your disciple has come bearing your personal sword to beg this of you — only that you break your seclusion for once and reach out to save her. From this day on, I will gladly bear any labor and accept any discipline, carry out any task, without a single word of refusal. I only beg you, Master, to take pity and grant my disciple a thread of life." As her words fade, the wind and snow of the cold peak continue to howl and swirl. A long silence settles over the entire summit. The patterns on the stone gate lie still and unmoving, as if a thousand years have frozen solid in this place. Bai Xuning's heart sinks heavily, restless with anxiety, yet she remains kneeling steadily, refusing to rise. She knows her master's nature is clear, cold, and composed, undisturbed by mortal sentiment. But this is her only disciple in this life — the one in whom she placed half a lifetime of tenderness and all her hopes of fulfillment. Even if she burns out to the last flicker of her strength, she is willing to beg for this one thread of life for you. Just as her spiritual power is nearly spent and her consciousness begins to blur — A low, distant tremor slowly ripples outward from deep within the stone gate. The ancient formation patterns, silent for a thousand years, suddenly awaken. Countless fine silver-white star lights travel and spread along the veins of the stone. A clear, pure sword intent breaks through the stillness — vast yet unassuming, immense yet extraordinarily restrained. In that instant, the howling wind and snow across the entire mountain freeze. The countless flurries of shattered snow hang suspended in midair. All sound returns to absolute silence. The heavy dark-jade gate slowly opens from the middle, both halves sliding apart. Within the gate there is no frost, no wind, no snow — only the clear, hazy Dao-aura of spiritual light, serene and clean, unstained by the slightest dust of the mortal world. A figure steps out slowly, her bearing solitary and transcendent, a long robe untainted by even a speck of dust, like snow, like moonlight — so faint she seems almost to vanish into nothing. Pei Zhizhen's features are clear and cold, utterly beyond the mundane. Her brows and eyes hold neither joy nor sorrow; the aloof detachment cultivated through long seclusion has seeped into her very bones. Her gaze is empty and bright as a mirror, carrying not a trace of mortal emotion. Star-vein sword intent flows faintly around her, sword and formation fused into one, her bearing deep, steady, and vast. Merely by standing still, she makes the biting cold of the entire peak quietly retreat. Her gaze falls — and the first thing it lands on is Bai Xuning, kneeling long in the snow. It sweeps quietly over her blood-soaked robes, her left arm torn and gravely wounded, taking in her pale, hollow complexion and the chaotic, withered, tottering foundation of spiritual power within her body. Pei Zhizhen has always taught according to each student's nature, and toward this personal disciple — pure-hearted, diligent, and unassuming — she has always been tolerant, gentle, considerate, and kind. She knows that Bai Xuning has spent half a lifetime quietly walking the Dao, meek and courteous, advancing in cultivation with difficulty yet never once slackening or complaining. And precisely because she knows her disciple's talent is limited and her self-protection weak, she deliberately left Chenxing with her all those years ago to guard her on her path. Her mind settles slightly. Pei Zhizhen raises a finger and gathers her intent. A wisp of warm, gentle Supreme Purity sword intent is born at her fingertip — without the slightest edge of killing or ferocity, carrying only the pure power of stabilizing the foundation and healing wounds. Pale silver star patterns flow along her fingertip and settle steadily over Bai Xuning's gravely wounded left arm. Fine formation lines travel slowly along the damaged flesh and sinew, stopping the bleeding, healing the bones and tendons, calming the disorder, and anchoring the spiritual power. The whole motion is unhurried and composed, measured with perfect precision. In only a few breaths, the ferocious wound stops bleeding entirely, the shattered bones and tendons gradually settle, and the withered, scattered spiritual power is firmly locked back into the meridians. The bone-deep agony dissolves completely, and the body that had been swaying on the verge of collapse is instantly steady again. Bai Xuning's heart relaxes slightly. She immediately bows her head and bends low in a proper disciple's salute, her tone warm and respectful: "Thank you, Master, for healing my wounds." Pei Zhizhen slowly withdraws her finger. Her clear, cold gaze passes over the disciple before her and gazes far off toward the sea of clouds below. In that stretch of heaven and earth, a thread of life force flickers faintly, nearly extinguished — the breath of you, hovering at death's door. In all her long years, she has never broken her rules for the mortal world, never let the joys and sorrows of living beings sway her Dao-heart. But now the descendant of her lineage lies at death's door, and the life of the younger generation hangs in the balance. Protecting those under her charge has always been the duty of her Dao-heart as grandmaster. Her voice is clear and cold as an ice spring washing over stone — calm and unruffled, yet carrying an unshakable certainty: "Rise. Lead the way."