Parting ways with "Anna," I headed back to my room, recalling along the way why Qinxuan had chosen that particular name.
She once said it was tied to the legend of a divine artifact — the Annata Tower.
According to her, a name is a meaningful part of a person. It may not define one's fate, but it nudges it, influencing luck in subtle ways.
By taking a fragment of the artifact's name — an artifact famed for warding off evil spirits and misfortune, and one that symbolized wisdom — she hoped to draw a shred of heavenly fortune to herself.
So in the end, it remained unclear whether she had been joking or not.
That conversation hadn't been particularly solemn.
Still lost in those memories, I reached my room — where Sila was already waiting.
— All the things have already been sent, my Lady. Do you require anything else? — he asked, bowing his head.
— Begin upgrading the other rooms and send the method to the main branch – to my father, — I instructed, then added, — Ah, and feed Razorstripe a rainbow deer. Better yet, two.
— Are you going somewhere tonight? — he asked with a slight hesitation in his voice.
— Yes, I'm heading out for a night stroll.
Sila frowned.
After a short pause, he spoke carefully, as if afraid of the answer:
— My Lady… I hope this isn't one of those strolls?
I put on my most serious expression and pretended to think deeply.
— You mean the time Razorstripe ate the city lord's favorite horse? Or the fire in the Xue Clan's alchemy room?
A finger tapped against the lips — thoughtful, theatrical.
— Ah, right! You must be talking about the disappearance of the Wang Clan patriarch's nephew. What was his name again? Wang Chun? Wang Ping? Wang… Peace? Eh, who knows. Wait, no – no one knows about that incident, so you probably don't mean that one.
Sila choked on air, and for a moment, the mask of his perfect composure cracked.
— My Lady, — his voice trembled slightly, — are you saying it was you behind the kidnapping of Wang Xiong?
— Ah! Wang Xiong! — I clapped my hands with satisfaction. — So close. But no, of course I didn't do something like that.
He let out a heavy sigh, then – as if resigning himself — asked:
— What did he do to deserve death?
He clearly assumed the young man was already dead, but I hurried to correct him.
— He dared place a bet on me. But no, you're wrong – he's alive, unharmed, and even well-fed. — I stressed "well‑fed," catching the flicker of confusion in Sila's eyes.
— Well‑fed? — he echoed, tilting his head.
— I handed him over to the pirates of the Na'Dai Sea. He's their little treasure now – a boy in a barrel.
Sila flinched, realization dawning in his eyes.
— But… but he's a man.
— These aren't ordinary pirates, — I replied, as if that explained everything.
Seeing the ashen look on his face, I waved my hand dismissively:
— Alright, enough of that. Go handle what you must. I still have things to do.
Behind, the door closed with a subdued, yet final click.
Once locked inside, I was ready to begin again from the very start.
This time, things needed to go faster. Thanks to my help, Qinxuan was already gaining momentum — I had to keep up.
Even though I'd reached the eighth level of the Mortal Rank, my true foundation had always been soul cultivation.
My Master had forcibly helped me open the Sea of Soul, and because of that, he had fallen into a deep slumber.
He wouldn't awaken anytime soon unless I found a way to bring him back.
Last time, I spent a fortune to rouse him, but now… that was nothing more than a distant dream.
The Sea of Soul is the counterpart of the Dantian, but instead of storing spiritual energy, it houses and concentrates soul energy.
Yet possessing a Soul Sea alone isn't enough to be called a Soul Master — one must learn to control that energy.
Soul cultivation, much like spiritual cultivation, begins with nine levels: Perception, Response, Growth, Balance, Synchronization, Fortification, Purification, Form, and Emergence.
The first step — Perception — sounds deceptively simple.
In practice, it is far harder than it appears. A person must sense the existence of their own soul.
This is infinitely more difficult than sensing spiritual energy — something already considered exceptionally rare.
If out of a hundred people only one can sense spiritual energy, then out of ten thousand, only one can perceive their own soul.
Though everyone can confidently say they have a soul, feeling it… that is something entirely different.
Last time, it took me several days to pass this stage — a respectable result in itself.
But now…
At this stage, the human consciousness plays the key role.
Strangely enough, it is directly connected to the soul. Consciousness and soul are like a pair of human eyes — they work together, yet can never see each other.
Without a reflection or external touch, one eye will never know the other exists… unless the function of one is temporarily disturbed.
If you artificially "separate" consciousness from the soul, you can make them look at different "pictures."
That is exactly how I intend to perceive my soul — by briefly disrupting their connection.
Last time I used a method I called — Overload.
My Master, upon learning about it, called it both brilliant and reckless. A mistake could have led to irreversible consequences — mental deterioration, split personality, or even something worse.
The essence of the method is simple — through sensation and physical influence I forcibly tear apart the workings of consciousness.
Others might meditate under a waterfall or chew enlightenment herbs.
I chose the one thing that never fails: pain and hatred.
My outer clothes were already on the floor.
A silver fork lay on the table — cold, heavy, beloved.
Light glinted on its tines as if it were winking.
"Go on, girl. You know how this works."
A smile crept onto my lips—crooked, vicious, halfway to madness.
The fork sank into her thigh in a single motion — down to the bone.
Blood spilled out in a warm stream at once.
I twisted it.
Again.
Slowly, giving every nerve cell enough time to scream its own little "thank you."
Hands flashed before my eyes—my hands, drenched in her blood up to the elbows.
The smell of metal and death. The taste on my tongue.
Another twist.
And another.
Hatred surged up in me—thick, black, delicious.
The pain in my body merged with the pain in my soul, and hatred overwhelmed me completely.
I continued twisting the fork, reliving these memories again and again. How long it lasted, I do not know. It went on until I heard a strange click inside myself.
For a moment I felt something incredible — my being split into two parts.
Soul.
Finally.
It instinctively tried to protect itself, and at that moment I felt its existence clearly for the first time.
I immediately stopped and opened my eyes.
The world around me seemed blurred, and my body was overtaken by unbearable fatigue. Both spiritual and physical weakness struck simultaneously.
Looking around, I noticed a considerable pool of blood around me.
Gritting my teeth, I directed spiritual energy to the wound to stop the bleeding.
Once I was sure the blood had stopped, I sank into a chair, trying to catch my breath.
Half an hour later, I returned to normal and tended to my leg carefully. A scar was the last thing I wanted at that moment.
Second stage — Response.
In theory, each step should become more difficult. But this stage was easier for me — after all, I had them.
Two books now rested on my middle finger in the form of a black-and-white ring.
The White Book—Viro—always rested on my finger as a black-and-white ring.
A single flicker of thought, and it unfolded in my palm, cold as moonlight.
It could devour souls, grind them into pure essence, and drip it back into me.
Slowly.
But reliably.
Like a good venomous serpent that, somehow, still loves its master.
This essence was exactly what was needed for soul response.
Once one senses the existence of a soul, it can never be lost.
Opening the book to the correct page, I summoned a thin thread of pure soul energy and directed it into myself.
At first, the soul remained motionless, like a statue — unresponsive.
The essence circled it, gradually wrapping around. A few minutes later, as if sensing the bait, the soul absorbed the tiniest fragment.
Immediately after, it could not be stopped, and all the essence was consumed in a single motion.
— AAAhHH — a moan escaped me. The sensation of feeding the soul was an exquisite pleasure.
Thus, I reached the second Mortal level.
Without stopping, I summoned the remaining three threads of essence and absorbed them.
My soul greedily drank them in, its color brightened, and its size slightly increased. In this way, I moved to the third stage — Growth.
— I will need twelve more essences — their passive creation will take months, so I must replenish the number of souls.
Fortunately, there will soon be plenty of people craving death.
Closing the book, I exhaled and instructed the servants to prepare a bath.
The water, heated to the perfect temperature, smelled of herbs and flowers. Pleasant steam enveloped my body, relaxing every muscle.
Half an hour later, I stood before the mirror, trying on my outfit for the outing.
My attire was strict, yet elegant.
The black jacket clung tightly to my figure, accentuating the waistline.
A white, high-collared shirt peeked out from beneath, lending a restrained sophistication.
Fitted black leather pants and knee-high boots completed the ensemble, making it both practical and stylish.
On one thigh, I secured two daggers; on the other — a black whip, a lower-grade mortal artifact.
It was a gift from my mother — a piece filled with history and power.
I pinned my hair back with two simple clips and applied a drop of perfume to my wrists. Its scent, made from rare black roses, was soft, warm, and calming.
Today was an important night.
Although the circumstances of the meeting were far from joyful — it was necessary to look impressive, at least in the eyes of the person for whom I was dressing.
There was still time, but I decided to leave a little early.
I mounted my companion — the Lunar Leopard, Razorstripe.
Though others saw him as a deadly Earth-rank magical beast, our bond spanned decades.
He was obedient and gentle with me, though occasionally mischievous.
Two rainbow deer should make him cooperative for the execution of my night plan.
Reaching the gates that led to the forest, I began to wait.
Half an hour later, I noticed a silhouette streak across the sky.It was the city lord — his Heavenly-rank aura detectable from a distance.
Soon, representatives of the four Ancient clans rushed past, one after another.
They were surprised by my presence, but concerned with the forest situation, they paid little attention, only giving a slight nod as they passed.
Finally, the last arrivals — but by no means the least important — appeared: those I had been waiting for.
As they drew near, I spoke first.
— Anna, how unexpected. I smirked — We meet again.