Despite the honor of her new title, Li Xiyan knew peace never lingered long in the cultivation world.
The day after the Sect Assembly, she found a note pinned to her courtyard gate.
No signature. Just a single line:
_"You've stolen what wasn't yours. Come to the Valley of Echoes at dusk."
She stood silent, the wind stirring her hair.
Mu Chen found her reading it, his jaw already tightening. "You're not going."
"I have to."
"It's a trap."
"Yes. And it will be sprung whether I attend or not. Better to face it directly."
He stared at her for a moment, then exhaled.
"Then I'm coming with you."
She shook her head. "If I'm to grow into this title, I need to face what it brings. Alone."
The Valley of Echoes was a hollow carved by wind and time, lined with sheer cliffs and silver-leaved trees. It was said to carry the thoughts of cultivators long gone.
Xiyan arrived just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Three figures emerged from the shadows.
Yue Lan, dressed in storm-gray robes.
Two others—disciples of her faction.
"So the little flower came after all," Yue Lan said.
Xiyan remained still. "I came because hiding never solves anything."
"And yet you hide behind your false humility. Your gentle face, your soft words. But I see through you."
The two other disciples stepped forward, spiritual energy crackling.
Yue Lan drew her blade. "You want to play the noble healer? Let's see how you fare when no one's left to protect you."
Xiyan took a breath.
She didn't draw a sword. She had none.
Instead, she unwrapped the silk bundle at her waist—her healer's kit.
Yue Lan laughed. "You think medicine can stop me?"
"No. But compassion might."
She knelt, hands open, revealing vials.
"Your spirit root is damaged, Yue Lan. From overusing the Tempest Sutra. You've been in pain. Afraid. You don't hate me. You hate that I see it."
Yue Lan's eyes narrowed. Her grip faltered.
"You lie."
"I don't. I can help you. Not as a rival. As someone who understands."
The wind picked up, swirling petals from the trees around them.
The other two disciples hesitated.
One stepped back.
"Senior Sister Yue… she helped my brother when no one else would. Maybe—maybe this isn't right."
Yue Lan trembled.
Her blade fell.
And she collapsed to her knees.
Tears streamed down her face, not from pain, but from the release of years held in.
Xiyan approached, knelt beside her, and placed a hand over Yue Lan's heart.
"You don't have to carry it alone."
For a long time, there was only the sound of the wind.
And then—
A whisper, ancient and vast, rolled through the valley.
Xiyan.
A voice not hers.
A presence not mortal.
She looked up.
A figure shimmered above the cliffs—light-woven, robed in stars.
The spirit of an ancient cultivator.
Its voice echoed not in the air, but in the bones.
"You have done what swords could not. You have bent hatred with healing. For this, the Valley remembers you."
Suddenly, her core pulsed. Her spiritual sea bloomed.
And just like that—she broke through.
Mid Foundation Realm.
Power pulsed around her—not violent, but vibrant. Living.
The other disciples knelt instinctively.
Even Yue Lan.
When it passed, Xiyan stood, steady.
Yue Lan looked up at her.
"Why would you help someone who tried to hurt you?"
Xiyan offered a soft smile.
"Because pain never healed pain."
She returned to her courtyard under a rising moon.
Mu Chen was waiting, arms crossed. Xiǎo Bai sat curled on his shoulder.
"You're injured?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. Just… a little tired."
He studied her, then nodded.
"I heard something stirred in the valley. An ancient guardian."
"It did more than stir," she whispered. "It saw."
And for the first time since arriving at Clear Wind Pavilion, Xiyan felt something greater than fear or hope.
She felt belonging.