The green paths of Rising Phoenix Mountain winding down toward the Southern Ridge were quiet, shaded by the canopy of towering spirit bamboo. The wind hummed softly through the emerald leaves, carrying the crisp, clean scent of the sect's high-level defensive arrays. It was a space designed for peaceful meditation and cultivation, a world away from the blood-drenched chambers of the ruins.
Fang Lin walked with slow, measured steps, his posture deliberately slightly stiff, his shoulders hunched just enough to suggest the exhaustion of a survivor. His outer disciple robes were charred at the right shoulder, a jagged black ring of burnt fabric framing a patch of raw, reddened skin.
He waited until his restrained divine sense, protected by the Peak-Solid Soul state, confirmed that the courtyard behind him was completely empty and Elder Feng's terrifying presence had truly withdrawn from the mountain.
Only then did he let his shoulders drop. His eyes, previously filled with pained humility, turned cool and sharp.
With a silent breath, he circulated a thread of Nether Life Spirit Qi from the depths of his spiritual sea. The cool, vibrant energy surged into his right shoulder. Instantly, the charred, blistering skin began to itch, the damaged cells shedding away as new, healthy flesh knit together in seconds. The raw burn vanished, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin. He pulled his collar up slightly to hide the healed patch, maintaining the illusion of injury for the eyes that would inevitably watch him.
"Well, that was pathetic," the Dark Flame Spirit's voice echoed in his mind, dripping with childish amusement. She was floating near the vent of the Ancient Spatial Furnace, her tiny crimson form rolling around in embers. "You let that red-clothed girl burn your shoulder, and then you stood there looking like a dog that just got kicked into a mud puddle. Is this the legendary Shen Mo? The great conqueror of the Myriad Halls?"
"It is called a disguise," Fang Lin replied mentally, keeping his face expressionless as he walked. "If I had dodged, or if my body had naturally resisted the heat, Feng Jiu'er would have confirmed her suspicions on the spot. Elder Feng was watching from the shadows. A single mistake would have ended with me being dissected in the sect's execution hall."
"Boring," the spirit sighed. "I still think it would have been much faster to burn her hair off. A little swoosh, and all her questions would have turned into screaming about her bangs. Very efficient."
"And very loud," Fang Lin thought dryly. "We are in the Green Bamboo Sect now. Survival here requires silence, not flames."
As he neared the turn leading to the Southern Ridge residential cabins, a sudden rustle in the thick bamboo groves caught his attention. His soul mapped the area instantly, detecting several familiar Qi signatures waiting in a quiet, grassy clearing just off the mountain path. He did not tighten his grip on the sheathless Night Burial Sword sealed in his ring; instead, he relaxed his posture, introducing a slight limp to his stride.
"He's back! I told you I saw him coming down!"
A loud, familiar voice broke the silence of the forest.
Before Fang Lin could even react, a figure clad in the green-and-silver robes of the outer sect burst from the clearing, his face flushed with excitement and worry.
It was Xuo Mu.
Directly behind him, walking with a calm, measured pace that contrasted sharply with Xuo Mu's frantic energy, was Xue Ji. Her eyes, usually as cool and still as winter water, carried a rare, visible relief as she looked at him.
And they were not alone.
Emerging from the shadow of the giant pine trees beside the clearing path were Li Shan, Luo Chen, Murong Yue, Bai Qing, Han Zhi, and Zhao Feng. They had all gathered in this quiet, private spot, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the sect.
"Fang Lin!" Xuo Mu practically threw himself forward, grabbing Fang Lin by his injured shoulder and shaking him. "You're alive! By the heavens, you're actually alive! You went missing eleven months ago after the Outer Sect competition, and the elders wrote you off as a casualty! We thought you had been eaten by wild beasts or fallen off a cliff! I even carved a small memorial plaque for you out of pine wood!"
"Xuo Mu, let him breathe," Xue Ji said dryly, stepping forward and swatting Xuo Mu's hand away. Her gaze drifted to the charred hole in Fang Lin's robe, her brow furrowing slightly. "He is already injured. Your shaking will only make him spit blood."
Fang Lin offered a pained, slightly awkward smile, bowing humbly to the group. "Senior Brother Li, Senior Brother Luo... everyone. It is good to see you all returned safely. I... I apologize for worrying you. I did not mean to disappear for so long."
"Junior Brother Fang, where in the world have you been?" Li Shan asked, his mature face expressing deep concern. He gestured for everyone to sit in the grassy clearing. "When you vanished after the competition, we searched the lower valleys for weeks. Then the ruins opened, and we were all sent there, but we never found a single trace of you."
The group sat in a rough circle on the soft grass, sheltered by the dense bamboo. Zhao Feng broke the seal of a small clay jar of sweet pear wine they had brought, and the sweet, rich fragrance immediately filled the cool mountain air.
Fang Lin sat down carefully, keeping his posture slightly stiff. "I was out searching for herbs in the distant ridges to help my cultivation after the competition. But I got caught in a sudden rockslide in an unknown valley. The entrance caved in completely, trapping me in a deep, dark underground cave system. I couldn't find a way out for months."
"Trapped underground for eleven months?" Bai Qing whispered, her quiet eyes wide with shock and sympathy. "How did you survive in the dark for so long?"
"It was difficult," Fang Lin said, his face a perfect mask of sheepish embarrassment. "There was a small trickle of water, and some blind cave-fish that swam through the cracks. But mostly... I survived by eating the green moss that grew on the damp stone walls. It was a very dark cave. And the moss was... surprisingly filling."
"Hahaha! Moss!" Xuo Mu roared with laughter. He reached into his storage pouch and, with a flourish, pulled out a wet, dripping clump of green mountain moss he had scraped off a wet stone on his way up. He placed it onto a clean pine leaf and slid it right in front of Fang Lin. "Here! To celebrate your return, we prepared your favorite delicacy! Look at that vibrant green, Fang Lin! It's fresh, organic, and has just the right amount of mountain dirt. Eat up!"
A collective roar of laughter erupted from the Green Bamboo Alliance disciples.
"Eat it, Junior Brother Fang!" Zhao Feng teased, handing him a wooden cup of pear wine. "Don't let Xuo Mu's hard work scraping the rocks go to waste!"
Bai Qing lowered her head, giggling softly, while Han Zhi offered a rare, quiet chuckle. Even Xue Ji's lips curved into a rare, bright smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Murong Yue leaned her chin on her hand, a sharp, teasing glint in her eyes. "Eat up, Fang Lin. You must have missed it terribly during your walk up the mountain. Normal rice and spirit meat must taste so bland compared to such a refined heritage."
Fang Lin stared at the clump of moss, his face a perfect picture of helpless, second-hand embarrassment.
"Pfft—hahaha!" the Dark Flame Spirit was absolutely dying of laughter in his spiritual sea, her embers flaring so brightly that his furnace vibrated. "Eat it, Loud-Boy! It's a gift! Your friends are so kind to you. Look, Xuo Mu even selected the dampest piece! If you don't eat it, I will tell them you are a fake!"
"Be quiet," Fang Lin thought, his ears turning red.
Aloud, he pushed the leaf back with an embarrassed chuckle. "Xuo Mu... I think I have had enough moss to last me three lifetimes. Please, keep it for your own cultivation."
"No, no, I am a wind cultivator, my stomach cannot handle such heavy earth-element treasures," Xuo Mu waved his hands dismissively, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.
Once the laughter quieted down, Li Shan took a sip of his wine, his expression turning slightly more serious, though still warm. "But seriously, Fang Lin, you missed a storm. Shortly after you went missing, the Rivercloud Demon Sealing Ruins opened. It was a massive event. The eight major sects sent thousands of disciples inside."
"I heard some whispers from the guards at the gate," Fang Lin played dumb, tilting his head with innocent curiosity. "Was it very dangerous?"
"Dangerous doesn't even describe it," Han Zhi spoke up, touching his shoulder where a scar rested beneath his robe. "We were scattered, hunted by rogue cultivators, and nearly trapped by the ruins' ancient beasts. Many disciples from other sects did not make it out."
"But it wasn't just danger," Luo Chen spoke up, his hand resting on the hilt of his spear. The youth's eyes were filled with a burning, almost fanatical admiration. "It was the rise of a legend. A disciple from our continent—someone no one had ever heard of before—swept through the ruins like a god of death. His name was Shen Mo."
Fang Lin took a very slow, careful sip of his pear wine, keeping his gaze fixed on the cup. Here it comes.
"Shen Mo..." Xuo Mu repeated the name, his voice dropping into an excited whisper. Since he hadn't entered the ruins, his knowledge came entirely from the rumors circulating the sect. "Fang Lin, you have no idea! The rumors in Rivercloud City say he is a youth who stands ten feet tall, with shoulders as broad as city gates, and a third eye in the center of his forehead that shoots black lightning! They say when he draws his black blade, the ground itself rises to crush his enemies!"
"Ten feet tall? A third eye?" the Dark Flame Spirit cackled hysterically. "Oh, this is gold! Loud-Boy, do you have a third eye? Where is it? Let me see! Can you shoot lightning? Please tell me you can shoot lightning! I want to see the three-eyed monster!"
"Human rumors are always exaggerated," Fang Lin thought back, his inner voice filled with weary exasperation.
Murong Yue laughed sharply, shaking her head at Xuo Mu. "Ten feet tall? Xuo Mu, your ears only hear what the storytellers in the taverns invent. Shen Mo was not a giant. He was... a shadow. A quiet, terrifying presence that made the air feel heavy just by standing near him."
She looked down at her knees, a brief flicker of gratitude and awe crossing her sharp features before she looked back at Fang Lin. "He saved us at the Broken Ravine. The alliance was surrounded by Red Smoke Ridge and Black Mountain Gate disciples. We were about to have our cultivation ruined or worse. Then Shen Mo came forward. He didn't say any grand words. He just walked into the center of the formation, his black sword resting in his hand, and the sheer pressure he released... it felt like a mountain descending upon us. He broke their pressure in a single strike."
"He did," Luo Chen agreed, his tone quiet and reverent. "He gave me this spear to replace my broken one, and he didn't even ask for anything. To him, we were probably just ants he happened to step over. But to us... he was a savior."
"And that's not even the best part," Zhao Feng added eagerly, gesturing wildly. "They say during the battle, the storytellers claim he stood before a horde of monsters and yelled: 'Your blood will be the ink for my legend! Today, the heavens will record my name in red!' And then he slaughtered a hundred enemies!"
Fang Lin nearly choked on his wine, thinking(shameless fellows, you guys know that Shen Mo would never tell such things).
He had to force himself to swallow, his face turning a shade redder from the absolute embarrassment of hearing such cheesy, dramatic speeches attributed to him. He had never said anything remotely like that.
"'Your blood will be the ink for my legend!'" the spirit mocked, her voice shifting into a terrible, deep growl as she repeated the line inside his head. "Oh, Loud-Boy, that is the most embarrassing thing I have ever heard! I am going to say that to you every time you open the furnace. 'Your blood will be the ink for my soup!' Hahaha!"
Murong Yue smirked, noticing Fang Lin's red face. "Look at him. Fang Lin is embarrassed just hearing about a real genius. But it is true, Fang Lin. Shen Mo is a legend. And here you are, barely reaching the Early Spirit Foundation after eating moss for eleven months. If you had even a thousandth of Shen Mo's power, we wouldn't have to worry about the Growth Assessment Trial in three days."
"Growth Assessment Trial?" Fang Lin asked, looking between them.
"Yes," Xue Ji explained, her voice calm. "The elders are testing all returned disciples. Sun Jie and the Chen clan faction are already whispering that your return is suspicious, or that you are a fraud who found a lucky herb. They want to use the trial to humiliate you or force you into seclusion."
"I did get lucky," Fang Lin said softly, looking up with a sheepish smile. "I am just an ordinary outer disciple. I survived because the cave had water. I will just show the elders my current strength, and if they order me into seclusion... then I will cultivate in peace."
"Don't say such useless things," Xue Ji said, her voice quiet but firm as she looked at him. "You survived a year in the dark, Fang Lin. That alone proves your luck is stronger than their schemes. And you easily defeated everyone and ranked 3rd in the Outer sect competition. Just do your best. We will be there to watch."
"Yes!" Li Shan agreed, raising his cup. "To Fang Lin's return! And to the survival of the Green Bamboo Alliance!"
"To the survival!" the group cheered, clinking their cups together.
The celebration continued for another hour, the sweet pear wine flowing as they shared stories of their early days in the sect. They laughed, they teased, and for a short while, the shadow of the ruins and the looming threat of the major sects felt distant.
Eventually, as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the western peaks, casting long, golden shadows across the mountain paths, the group stood up.
"Rest well, Fang Lin," Xuo Mu said, patting his arm. "Don't eat any more moss tonight. The dining hall has fresh buns."
"I will keep that in mind," Fang Lin smiled.
Murong Yue walked past him, pausing for a brief second to look at his burnt shoulder. Her voice dropped slightly, carrying a rare sincerity. "Do not let them break you in the trial, Fang Lin. We lost you once; we do not want to lose a friend again."
"Thank you, Murong Yue," he replied softly, feeling warmth in his heart.
He stood in the clearing, watching as Xuo Mu, Xue Ji, Li Shan, Luo Chen, Murong Yue, Bai Qing, Han Zhi, and Zhao Feng walked up toward the inner sect residences, their voices fading into the rustling of the bamboo.
The warmth of the reunion lingered in his chest, but as the silence of the mountain returned, the Shen Mo focus re-aligned in his eyes. He turned and began the final walk down the path leading to his Southern Ridge cabin.
The shadows were growing longer, the cool air of the evening settling over the ridges.
He had walked barely half a mile, his cabin just visible through the trees, when the air around him suddenly grew warm.
It was not the harsh, destructive heat of a battlefield, but a soft, controlled warmth that carried the faint, sweet scent of peach blossoms.
Fang Lin stopped.
From the shadow of a large weeping bamboo tree beside the path, a figure stepped into the fading light.
Feng Jiu'er.
She had changed out of her battle robes, now wearing a simpler, flowing crimson dress that seemed to catch the last rays of the sun. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. She did not carry the cold, sharp authority she held in public, nor the fierce suspicion she had shown in the shielded courtyard.
Instead, she looked... hesitant. Almost soft.
For a moment, she just stood there, looking at him. Her gaze fell to the charred shoulder of his robe, and a visible flicker of guilt crossed her proud features.
"Ooh, the crimson girl is back," the Dark Flame Spirit whispered, her voice dropping into a quiet, curious tone. "She looks different. Softer. And she's carrying a little jade bottle, Loud-Boy. Is it a gift?"
Fang Lin did not answer the spirit. He immediately adopted his humble junior posture, lowering his head and performing a respectful salute. "Senior Sister Feng. Junior salutes you."
Feng Jiu'er walked toward him, her steps silent on the grass. She stopped three paces away. The scent of peach blossoms was gentle, wrapping around them in the quiet evening.
"You do not need to salute, Fang Lin," she said, her voice quiet, lacking its usual proud edge.
She looked at his shoulder again, her lips pressing into a thin line. "My grandfather inspected your foundation after I... after I struck you. He confirmed that your Qi is indeed unstable, and your shoulder... I did not mean to burn you so severely."
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small, exquisite jade bottle carved from pale white stone. The runes on the bottle hummed with a faint, cooling Qi.
"This is a Spirit Spring Healing Pill," she said, holding it out to him. "It is a high-grade pill refined by the Pill Dawn Sect. It contains pure water-aligned vitality. If you consume it during your cultivation, it will heal the elemental burn on your shoulder and help stabilize the chaotic Qi in your meridians before the trial."
Fang Lin looked at the jade bottle, then up at her face. Her expression was genuinely apologetic, her eyes carrying a rare sincerity. She truly believed she had injured her junior out of rash suspicion.
"Take it, take it!" the spirit urged. "It's a high-grade pill! I can smell the herbal essence from here. It's worth at least a few hundred spirit stones! Loud-Boy, you must accept her apology. It would be rude to refuse such a pretty bottle."
Fang Lin bowed his head lower, extending his hands to accept the bottle with unbelievable gratitude and humility. "Junior... thanks Senior Sister Feng for the medicine. I... I was rash to speak back in the courtyard. I do not blame Senior Sister."
"You were not rash," Feng Jiu'er said softly, her hand retreating into her sleeve. "I was the one who was obsessive. The rumors of Shen Mo... they have made me see shadows where none exist. I should not have tested you so cruelly."
She took a slow breath, looking out over the golden valley below. "Rest well, Fang Lin. The Growth Assessment Trial in three days will not be easy. Do not force yourself. If your foundation is unstable, it is better to accept seclusion and correct it than to break your meridians in front of the elders."
"Junior understands. I will follow Senior Sister's advice," Fang Lin replied, his voice carrying the perfect tone of a grateful, cautious junior.
Feng Jiu'er nodded once. She looked at him one last time, her gaze softer than it had ever been, before turning. With a gentle gust of warm wind, her crimson figure vanished into the bamboo shadows, leaving behind only the faint scent of peach blossoms.
Fang Lin stood alone on the path, the white jade bottle resting in his palm.
The humble look on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp focus.
He held the bottle up, his divine sense easily slipping past the runes to inspect the pill inside. It was indeed a genuine, high-grade Spirit Spring Healing Pill, rich in water-vitality energy. It was a valuable resource, worth nearly eight hundred low-grade spirit stones.
"A good pill," Fang Lin murmured, slipping the bottle into his storage pouch. He had no need to use it on his shoulder, which was already fully healed, but saving it for future recovery or trade was a significant gain.
"She's nice," the Dark Flame Spirit remarked, her voice thoughtful. "She felt bad about burning you. But she's also very silly, isn't she? She gave a high-grade pill to the very monster she was trying to hunt."
"She is not silly," Fang Lin said quietly, walking the final steps toward his cabin door. "She is just human. And as long as she believes I am just Fang Lin, the shadow of Shen Mo will remain exactly where it belongs."
He pushed open the creaking wooden door of his cabin. Dust flew up in the dim light. The Pine desk, the cultivation mat, and the empty medicine bottles were exactly as he had left them.
He stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it.
"Now," Fang Lin thought, sitting down on the mat as the darkness of the night began to fill the cabin. "Three days of seclusion. Let us see what the Green Bamboo Sect expects me to show."
"And three days for me to think of more three-eyed jokes!" the spirit cheered.
Fang Lin sighed, closing his eyes as his Qi began to circulate in the quiet room.
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