"You mean to tell me that entire area is now a dense, impassable jungle and that it's full of hidden dangers? That the three old masters from the Goulu Sect were all lost in there?" a wide-eyed man asked. His voice was a hushed, frantic whisper over the chipped and stained rim of his wooden cup. He gripped the vessel so tightly that his knuckles were white, his eyes darting toward the door with every gust of wind that rattled the frame.
"They got what they deserved," someone else at the rough wooden table scoffed, taking a deep, messy swig of his cheap, bitter drink. The liquid splashed against his stubbled chin, but he didn't seem to care. "Thinking they could just walk in and take it like a common street treasure. Greed blinded them, and the mountain claimed the debt."
"That's not the half of it," another man added. He leaned in conspiratorially, his chest pressing against the sticky surface of the table as he lowered his voice even further. He glanced toward the flickering shadows dancing in the corner. "Even Tianmu Gate's Sect Leader, the man they call the number one master of the martial world, barely made it out alive. He lost an arm and the very will to ever go back. They say the place is a demon's nest now. Even the flowers and plants will attack you; vines snapping like whips in the dark to drag you into the brush."
Inside a modest, crowded inn—thick with the suffocating smell of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and the salty tang of dried sweat—a small group huddled together, exchanging the latest and most fearful rumors. It had been about a month since the golden light had first pierced the heavens. It was a beacon of promise and peril that refused to fade from the sky, staining the clouds with an unnatural, celestial hue.
By now, everyone from the lowliest beggar in the muddy gutters to the highest merchant in his fine silk robes knew a priceless treasure was hidden deep in the southern mountains. Yet no one could claim to have laid eyes on it. They only had seen the deadly green wall of vegetation that protected the slopes, a barrier that seemed to grow thicker with every passing hour.
Many had hired local hunters as guides, seeking out men who knew every deer trail, hidden stream, and jagged rocky outcrop. But when they reached those specific foothills, it was like stepping into another world. It was a world that had moved on without them, alien and unforgiving. The landscape was choked with impossibly lush and aggressive vegetation, as if decades of untamed growth had happened in a single, unnatural night. The old and familiar trails were completely gone, swallowed whole by thick, pulsing roots and jagged thorns that could tear through leather boots.
More unsettling was the palpable and watchful hostility that seemed to emanate from the mountain itself. The very plants seemed to track their every movement, leaves turning to follow them and branches shivering as if they resented their presence in the sacred space. A deep and primal fear had begun to settle in the stomachs of even the bravest hearts.
After the news spread that a full team of three seasoned and well-respected cultivators had been wiped out without leaving a single trace behind, many simply gave up. They no longer dared to challenge the cursed and living peak, preferring the safety of their cups and hushed stories.
"To think... that person stayed here all this time, for that treasure," one of the wealthier merchants mused. He shook his head in a mixture of awe and genuine disbelief at the sheer scale of the phenomenon. He adjusted the heavy rings on his fingers, his gaze distant. "Tsk, tsk... the absolute patience of it."
At the Fuding Merchant Guild's headquarters, the local branch manager sipped his tea with an air of practiced and calm detachment. The tea itself was special; it was a subtle luxury cultivated from the bamboo leaves in Su Min's own grove. These were leaves that had been nourished for years by the spiritually rich discarded waste from her countless alchemical sessions, absorbing the faint, sweet scent of medicinal herbs.
Some of those very bamboo stalks had evolved into true spiritual herbs, their bark shimmering with a faint, metallic sheen. A fortunate few had even awakened as minor, sentient spirits. Grass and wood spirits were blessed that way. They seemed to intuit their own path of cultivation directly from the world itself, drawing energy from the soil and sky without needing a human master to guide them.
Half a month ago, the manager had sent a full and detailed report to his true master, Prince Yong. The prince's response had been swift and crystal clear. He immediately withdrew all his forces from the region, deciding not to involve himself any further in a fight that was clearly beyond his current means. He was a man who knew when the stakes were too high to play.
"Prince Fu has given the order," the manager said to his nervous assistant. A cold and knowing chuckle escaped his lips as he set the ceramic cup down on the table with a soft click. "We are to warmly welcome the Emperor's envoys and offer them all the information we have gathered. We are to be most helpful to them."
There was little need for outright deception. Other than the explosive and politically charged truth of Su Min's true identity, everything else could be freely shared with the court. Knowing who she truly was—the purged Minister Su's daughter—had cemented the manager's own path long ago. It was a path destined to be in direct opposition to the Wei Emperor and his bloody regime.
Sure enough, that very day, three distinct and overwhelmingly oppressive auras descended upon the city like a physical weight, pressing down on the rooftops. The once bustling and noisy streets fell into a deathly and unnatural silence, the only sound being the distant, rhythmic thud of soldiers' boots. A palpable and cold fear gripped every heart, making it difficult for the common folk to draw a full breath.
These weren't ordinary cultivators. They were beings of such concentrated power that any one of them could slaughter everyone in the city without breaking a sweat, their presence alone causing the air to shimmer with heat. And there were three of them. Even the most greedy and reckless treasure hunters—who had been loitering for weeks in the local taverns—fled in a blind panic, abandoning all their gear in the dust as they scrambled for the gates. No one in their right mind would risk facing such overwhelming and annihilating might for a treasure they hadn't even seen.
The three newcomers, however, paid no mind to the chaos and terror they caused. Though the city was known to harbor fugitives and dissidents from the court, their mission was singular and absolute: retrieve the heaven-sent treasure and, by any means necessary, bring the elusive alchemist back to the capital. The treasure had appeared in the Southern Frontier, and the alchemist had been hiding here for years. The connection was obvious. She must be its guardian.
Recruiting her was the most logical and beneficial move for the throne. A skilled, Tier Two alchemist was far too valuable a resource to simply kill out of hand, especially one who could thrive in such a hostile land. But if she refused or if she proved stubborn, then death was the only answer. They wouldn't allow such an asset to remain outside the court's control.
The branch manager could barely stand upright under the pressure radiating from the trio. Their killing intent was a tangible and suffocating storm. It was fierce and cold, unlike anything he had ever felt in his life, and it made the hair on his arms stand on end.
Only now did he truly understand the meaning of "true strength." Compared to them, Su Min had always been remarkably and almost kindly restrained in his presence. She had never unleashed such an overwhelming and soul-crushing force upon him, even when her experiments went awry.
He answered their terse questions without holding back. His voice was steady despite his trembling knees as he concealed only the one critical and dangerous fact: Su Min's true name and her bloody history with the throne. If he betrayed that and she somehow found out, he knew a quick death at the envoys' hands would be a mercy compared to her wrath.
Fortunately, the three envoys had already gathered rough intelligence about a powerful female alchemist from other and less informed sources. They suspected nothing from him, allowing Su Min's most dangerous secret to remain safe for now.
As for his own Body Refining bodyguard, who stood pale and rigid against the wall with his hand hovering near his sword hilt, the trio didn't even spare him a glance. Such low-level cultivators were now common enough in the Great Wei Empire. It was a testament to the Demon Queen's twisted methods. These weren't the fragile and early years of cultivation secrecy anymore; the world was changing, becoming sharper and more dangerous.
Meanwhile, deep within the transformed mountains' heart, where the air hummed with a heavy, latent power that made the skin tingle...
"So, the court has finally made its move," Su Min murmured from within her simple bamboo hut. Her eyes were half-lidded in calm contemplation as she felt their arrival like a foul stench on the morning wind, oily and thick. "Sending out Qi Refining puppets. They don't disappoint."
She had sensed the three distinct auras the moment they entered the city: three towering and dark waves of killing intent that stained the clear sky like ink in water. Even she—with all her experience and past-life knowledge—had never encountered malice so pure and so overwhelming. This wasn't something born merely from battle or killing. It had been cultivated and nurtured through a far darker, more twisted and unnatural art that fed on the spirit itself.
"So they have come at last," she whispered to the quiet and listening forest around her. It was a forest that was now an extension of her own will, every leaf and twig a sensory organ. "Killing you three won't taint my karma. On the contrary, it will only add to my merit." There was a grim satisfaction in her tone as she stood, her robes rustling softly against the floor.
In the game world she remembered, players were bound by similar cosmic rules. Committing atrocities against the innocent could lead to stat debuffs and even madness, while destroying true and world-threatening evil could grant strange blessings and rare titles. But this was no longer a game with respawns and save points. Here, the punishments were real and permanent, and madness was a terrifying and inescapable state of being.
Yet, the principle held: exterminating monsters like these—creatures of pure corruption—came with tangible and precious rewards. Su Min found herself looking forward to the fight and to the spoils of a righteous slaughter.
Of course, she had no intention of meeting them in an open field on their terms. That would be the height of foolish pride. Here, within her home terrain and surrounded by her countless traps and natural allies, she held every possible advantage. Victory was all but assured, and she wouldn't waste that gift by being reckless.
"Come then," she whispered with a low and cold laugh that held no humor. "Let me see what you are made of, imperial hounds. Let me see if your training has prepared you for a forest that hates you."
She fell silent after that, conserving her strength as her own potent aura dissolved completely into the lush and waiting wilds around her. She became one with the shadows and the leaves, her presence vanishing from the mountain as she prepared for the coming storm.
Three days later, the city at the mountain's base was eerily quiet. It was holding its breath. Those who had remained—too stubborn or too poor to leave—witnessed a scene they would never forget. Three Qi Refining cultivators, leading several dozen eerily synchronized Body Refining soldiers, stormed the mountain range from three separate directions. Their movements were a swift blur of deadly intent, their weapons gleaming under the harsh sun.
Back in his plush office, the branch manager could only wipe cold sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. With such a force, there was nothing he or even the powerful Prince Yong could do to intervene. How could they have known the court would so casually and so easily dispatch such terrifying and concentrated power? The throne's might—or rather the Demon Queen who truly pulled the strings—was simply beyond mortal comprehension. It was a bottomless abyss that swallowed all light.
Such a force could crush almost any major sect or rebel army with ease without even straining. In the old stories his grandfather told, a single Qi Refining cultivator was said to be worth ten thousand veteran soldiers on a battlefield. Now, the city's lingering and fearful curiosity turned entirely to the mysterious and unseen alchemist at the center of the gathering storm.
Yet Su Min remained an enigma, her true capabilities a closely guarded secret that she held tight. She had revealed none of her core arts—not even something as basic and universally desired as a Spirit Gathering Pill recipe. For now, she was a mystery; she was an unknown variable in a deadly and high-stakes game where the empire itself had just moved its most powerful pieces.
And soon, everyone would find out if she would kneel to that power, or if she would make her stand and become a legend against the empire itself. The mountain waited, and the world watched.