"To comprehend the laws of heaven, walk ten thousand miles and witness the workings of the world."
This was the official, almost poetic description of her Heavenly Dao Insight ability, and Su Min knew exactly what it meant she had to do. This wasn't a passive power; it demanded engagement. After all, her current cultivation method, the Changchun Gong, was only a fragment—a piece of a much larger whole. There was no guarantee it was complete enough to even support her breakthrough into the critical Qi Refining stage, the true gateway to immortality.
Moreover, it could take years, maybe even decades, of pure luck before she stumbled upon the remaining parts of the manual in this vast world. Relying solely on it was a huge, potentially fatal risk, especially since this particular cultivation method emphasized slow, patient, long-term accumulation over many years, even centuries. That made it poorly suited for an early-stage practitioner who needed power now—who needed to survive the immediate threats arrayed against her.
She reminded herself that this was still the first chapter of the world's story, the prologue. Spiritual energy was thin everywhere, still waking from its long slumber, and the great, earth-shattering conflicts between gods and demons were still far in the future; they were legends not yet born. Those mighty beings remained hidden in secluded realms or deep meditation, leaving the world stage to mortals and low-level cultivators for now.
"Right now, though, it's the ultimate 'Blue Ocean' phase," she whispered to the rustling leaves. A spark of excitement and opportunity gleamed in her eyes. "Rare treasures are just starting to emerge from the earth, and there's almost no competition for them. There are no established sects hoarding all the resources. It's perfect..."
Her thoughts were abruptly cut short. A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of energy, like a single plucked string on a massive, silent instrument, brushed against her sharpened spiritual senses. It was so subtle and fleeting that if she hadn't been resting right there, completely still and receptive, she would have missed it entirely.
"A hidden opportunity?" she wondered, her heart giving a small, hopeful leap.
In the game, these were randomly generated events: moments when a rare treasure manifested in the world and released a unique spiritual pulse into the environment. These pulses were always brief, detectable only by those who had stepped onto the path of cultivation and were sensitive enough to feel them. They demanded immediate, decisive action to track down before the trail faded. The best part was, at this very moment, most of the future powerhouses—the main competitors—weren't yet reborn. There should be no one else around to compete with for this prize.
"Might as well check it out."
With a casual flick of her hand, she scattered the dirt and ash over her small, dying campfire, smothering its last embers completely. A faint gust of wind seemed to gather spontaneously beneath her feet as she pushed off, dashing swiftly and silently through the undergrowth toward the source of the pulse. Cultivation resources were invaluable; they were the lifeblood of progress. Spirit treasures, magical artifacts, and advanced techniques were all indispensable for rapid growth. Since she had no fixed destination anyway—just a general direction south—there's no reason not to investigate this lucky break.
Half a month later.
"Hah... So this isn't a game after all." The words were a weary sigh.
Even with her enhanced Body Refining physique, the cross-country journey—navigating through dense, pathless forests and over rugged, uncharted hills—had taken her a solid three weeks. She now stood at the very fringes of the Great Wei Dynasty's territory. She was so far south that the imperial arrest warrants held no power here; their authority faded into nothingness. More importantly, as she had hoped, the landscape around the pulse's origin was pristine and undisturbed. No one else had beaten her to the prize.
In the game, treasure hunts were often chaotic, bloody free-for-alls, with dozens of players converging on the same location. If your character wasn't strong enough or arrived late, you would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of the treasure before another player snatched it away, often killing you in the process. But here, in this real, breathing world, she had been the only one to sense the pulse and answer its call. Her excitement, however—this feeling of exclusive fortune—lasted for exactly three seconds before the harsh reality of the situation smacked her in the face.
"You have got to be kidding me," she groaned, her shoulders slumping in disbelief.
There, perched within a narrow, shadowed crevice on the cliffside and partially hidden by a veil of creeping moss, was a small and unremarkable green gourd. It looked utterly ordinary, like something you might find in a common vegetable garden, except for one critical, infuriating detail. It was completely, undeniably unripe. Its color was a pale, immature green, and it felt spiritually dormant; its potential was locked away.
A flicker of information, drawn from her innate Heavenly Dao Insight, appeared in her mind as she focused on it.
[Heaven and Earth Treasure Gourd. A rare spiritual vessel born from the direct condensation of heaven and earth's essence. Only one emerges every thousand years. Requires ten full years to mature. Upon ripening, it will release a golden radiance visible for miles.]
Su Min's eye twitched involuntarily. This was a genuine, top-tier treasure: the kind that spawned epic quests and clan wars in the late game. Once fully refined, it could become a formidable magical tool capable of storing vast amounts of spiritual energy or even capturing enemies—a companion for her entire cultivation journey.
She had to have it. There's no question. There was no other choice.
The Southern Wilds were harsh, teeming with venomous insects and poisonous miasma that hung in the air, but they weren't completely uninhabited. Local Tusi chieftains ruled these lands like petty, independent kings. Their authority derived from tradition rather than the emperor, and the region was isolated and rugged enough that Great Wei's influence truly didn't reach here.
Besides, wandering the world with no fixed goal was its own form of cultivation, but it was inefficient. Her identity wouldn't be an issue here either, so far from the empire's heartland. Her Alchemy and Artifact Manual contained countless pill recipes, and her chosen expertise was precisely in this field. She could easily pose as a traveling alchemist: a useful and respected profession even on the frontier.
"Might as well make this home for now." The words solidified her commitment.
What would happen ten years from now when the gourd ripened? She would cross that bridge when she got to it. If too many powerhouses came knocking, drawn by the light, she was not too proud to know when to cut her losses, take the treasure if she could, and run. Survival was the priority.
"Time to get to work."
Clapping her hands together to dust them off, she allowed herself a small, determined grin, pushing aside the frustration. Blindly roaming the world without a plan served no real purpose and left her exposed. With her current strength, finding a stable, secure place to cultivate in peace was paramount, and this gourd was an anchor, for better or worse.
This location was actually perfect. It had lush, untouched forests, abundant spiritual herbs for her alchemy, and all the natural resources she could need. Without any more delay, she drew her sword and began felling nearby trees with clean, efficient strokes. She used the logs to construct a simple, sturdy cabin from the raw materials around her. It would be a place to cultivate, to refine pills, and to quietly study the heavens and her own growing power.
Soon, a modest wooden hut with a packed dirt floor and a thatched roof took shape atop the mountain, overlooking the hidden crevice. It wasn't luxurious, but it was solid and weatherproof; it sufficed. It was a sanctuary. At least here, she wouldn't have to look over her shoulder every moment or worry about being hunted by an entire empire.
~
"Girls really do change a lot when they grow up," she mused one day. She looked at her clear reflection in the still, dark water of a mountain pond.
When she had fled the burning mountains, her face had been smeared with soot and ash, and her hair had been a wild tangle. The arrest warrants circulating the empire probably bore little resemblance to her current self. This world had no photographs, only crude artist's sketches based on descriptions from terrified soldiers and vague written passages about her features.
She had been fourteen or fifteen then, right in the midst of her adolescent growth spurt. Originally standing at about four chi three cun, her recent advancement in cultivation had spurred her body to grow and refine itself. It pushed her height to nearly four chi eight cun and filled out her previously gaunt frame. The difference in her appearance—the loss of baby fat and the emergence of sharper, more defined features—was like night and day. And here, so far from Great Wei's core territories, even the paper warrants were scarce, if they existed at all.
In ancient times like these, population mobility was extremely low. Most people were born, lived, farmed, and died within a few li of their birthplace. This made any outsider stand out immediately, especially one whose background could be easily questioned. But here in the Southern Wilds—a land of migrants, exiles, and isolated tribes—no one cared about her origins, only her skills and what she could offer. And if the Great Wei court was foolish enough to send an army into these treacherous, miasma-filled lands to find one girl?
"Well, let's see how many of them survive the experience," she muttered. A hard, cold edge was in her voice; the memory of the burning mountain was still fresh. The wilderness itself would be her ally.
As Su Min finally settled into her new life, the ancient, secluded mountains that had slept for centuries began to stir. Their rhythms remained unchallenged, yet they sensed the new, determined presence in their midst—a seed of change planted in their soil.
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Tusi (土司) – Indigenous chieftains governing frontier regions under imperial nominal sovereignty, offering Su Min political cover.
The Tusi system reflects historical Chinese frontier governance—exploiting local power structures while maintaining imperial oversight. Su Min's choice to settle there highlights her grasp of geopolitical safe zones.