Chapter 21: Arrival at Spirit Gathering Valley

Seeing her anxious expression, Zhao Ji smiled and said, “If you don’t want to sell it to someone else, we can return to Floating Cloud Peak right now. As long as you stay on the peak, many people will think twice before approaching you.”

“Yes, yes,” Jiang Min nodded hurriedly.

She returned to Floating Cloud Peak without issue. As expected, no one came to her again about the token. The next morning, she rose early, preparing to head to Spirit Gathering Valley and use up this hot potato as soon as possible.

“Junior Sister Jiang, after you leave for Spirit Gathering Valley, I’ll help tidy up your area on the back mountain,” Zhong Qu said as he saw her off at the ferry dock.

Jiang Min quickly bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, Senior Brother Zhong. When I return, please take a few days to rest. I’ll make up all the chores I owe you.”

Zhong Qu waved his hand, smiling. “It’s nothing, you’d better get going.”

Taking her leave, Jiang Min boarded the ferry airboat bound for the legendary Spirit Gathering Valley.

Spirit Gathering Valley lay within the Inner Sect region of the Eastern Spirit Sect, surrounded by the peaks where the inner disciples resided. Seated on the airboat, she saw nothing but steep, towering mountains, clad in silver and white, shrouded in immortal mists, with pavilions scattered throughout. Occasionally, figures flashed by, riding swords through the air, graceful and at ease—truly a land of immortals.

There, between the peaks, Spirit Gathering Valley rested amid a sea of white clouds, drifting slowly above the gorge like flowing brocade.

“We’ve arrived at Spirit Gathering Valley,” the pilot announced as the airboat descended gently.

Jiang Min stepped off and bowed to the Foundation Establishment steward piloting the craft. “Thank you for your trouble, Martial Uncle.”

The entrance to Spirit Gathering Valley was extremely narrow, just a crevice in the mountain wide enough for a few people to pass at once. Two elders in purple robes stood guard at the mouth of the valley, and judging by the patterns on their robes, both were Golden Core cultivators.

Jiang Min hurried over, producing her Spirit Gathering Valley token with both hands and presenting it respectfully. “Disciple Jiang Min. This is my token. Please, Master, have a look.”

One of the elders took the token, tapped its back with a fingertip, and the characters “Ten Days” flashed with spiritual light, then changed to “Nine Days, Eleven Hours, Seven Quarters.”

He handed the token back, saying, “Timing has begun. If you are still in the valley when the countdown ends, this token will teleport you out automatically.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Jiang Min replied, and clutching the token, hurried through the mountain crevice—time was precious, and not a moment could be wasted.

“Jiang Min.”

Someone called from behind in a voice all too familiar. Jiang Min turned to see Feng Yu once again.

Feng Yu handed her token to the elder, who let her enter without questioning its origins—just as Senior Brother Zhao Ji had said, the sect turned a blind eye to private token transactions.

Feng Yu quickly caught up, shaking her token smugly. “I didn’t want to fight you to the death on the arena. After all, there’s always a way to get one of these tokens.”

“Hmph, at least I didn’t waste any money.” Jiang Min refused to show weakness, snorting coldly.

Comparison only breeds resentment.

What she had fought so hard to obtain, others acquired with ease.

Feng Yu seemed unbothered by her attitude, and suddenly spoke to her via sound transmission, “Speaking of money, did you hear that a labor disciple sold a Spirit Gathering Valley token yesterday, hiked up the price, and got over five hundred spirit stones?”

“What happened to him?” Hearing Feng Yu mention this person, a sense of foreboding crept over Jiang Min.

“He died last night.”

Jiang Min’s pupils contracted, a chill running down her neck.

Feng Yu caught her reaction and sneered, continuing the transmission, “That’s what comes of greed. I ultimately offered you three hundred—quite a fair price. That’s usually what tokens go for.”

“That guy got greedy, made two hundred extra, and now? Who knows how he died? No one cares.”

A storm raged in Jiang Min’s heart. Even within the sect, right under the stewards’ noses, a seemingly consensual transaction could still cost someone their life.

She quickly composed herself and replied via sound transmission, “Thank you for the warning, Senior Sister.”

Feng Yu hadn’t expected her to say so much and then simply thank her. Startled for a moment, she gave a light, strange laugh. “You’re quite an interesting child.”

By now, they had walked halfway along the narrow mountain path. Suddenly, Jiang Min sensed a powerful surge of formation energy. It felt as if she were passing through a barrier; in the next moment, spiritual energy a hundred times denser than outside swept over her, as though she were bathing in an ocean of it.

Feeling the spiritual energy, Jiang Min’s face lit up with joy. Ten days of cultivation here could surpass years on Floating Cloud Peak.

A few more steps, and she emerged from the crevice.

The view opened up.

A vast valley stretched before her—a veritable paradise. Outside, winter snow blanketed the world, but within the valley, it was verdant as spring. Sheer, gauzy mist drifted above, and directly ahead rose a five-story pavilion, with a stone-carved dragon coiling vividly around it.

To the right stood several towering stone walls, covered in mysterious script and images. Many inner disciples in purple robes sat cross-legged beneath them, some meditating, others gazing intently at the walls as if seeking enlightenment.

Beyond them, outer disciples in blue robes sat further from the walls, only barely able to discern their contents.

This was not what Jiang Min had imagined Spirit Gathering Valley would be.

She instinctively tried to see what was written on the walls, but Feng Yu pointed to the left, where a large area was set with meditation cushions. “Our place is over there. Labor disciples aren’t allowed near the stone walls.”

Feng Yu seemed unexpectedly approachable. Curious, Jiang Min asked, “Aren’t they here to cultivate?”

“Spirit Gathering Valley’s spiritual energy is a rare treasure for us laborers,” Feng Yu explained, “but for outer and inner disciples, the arts inscribed on those stone walls are far more important. They come only to comprehend those teachings.”

“Arts?”

Could the inscriptions on that wall be more important than one’s cultivation level?

Feng Yu saw that Jiang Min truly was a blank slate—ignorant of everything, yet somehow stumbled upon such a treasure. She offered no further explanation, only smirked. “Don’t overthink it. Get to cultivating—ten days is shorter than you think.”

With that, she left first, choosing an empty cushion on the left slope, sitting cross-legged to begin her practice.

Jiang Min followed, heading to the area with the meditation cushions. She saw ancient stone tablets standing at the edges, each covered in countless tiny characters.

“What are these steles?” she wondered, stepping closer. Each bore the names of martial arts or spells: Five Thunder Palm, Wind and Rain Sword, Meteor Fire Shower… Techniques and methods immensely precious in the outside world, yet engraved openly here, stele after stele. What sort of place was this Spirit Gathering Valley?

“Teng Four Symbols?”

A particular stele engraved with the words “Teng Four Symbols” caught Jiang Min’s eye, for the small characters on it were identical to those in her “Misty Step” manual.

She hurried over and began reading.

“Azure Dragon curls left, dragon’s horn at the fore, flow breath to the chest, sink to the dantian—”

She had barely finished the first line when her vision blurred.

When she came to herself, she found everything around her awash in white. A figure of pure white light stood before her, body slightly hunched, its form half-transparent. She watched as it inhaled a stream of energy, sinking it to the dantian, where a glow appeared, then rose along the spine, flowing gently upward.

“So this is the ‘Misty Step’ I bought…? Could that trace of light show the pathway of spiritual power?”

Only now did Jiang Min understand why her “Misty Step” lacked the Four Symbols’ soul—because it contained only the steps and breathing, missing the internal spiritual power circulation. Each footwork technique should have a corresponding route for energy to flow.

She hadn’t expected the stele to conceal a profound, inherited space, able to demonstrate the complete technique. Its true name was “Teng Four Symbols.”

She guessed that her “Misty Step” came from someone who had copied the technique from this very stele, changed the name, and sold it for money—leaving out the most vital part, the spiritual power circulation.

Jiang Min hurried to memorize the method for channeling spiritual energy, reviewing it twice until she had the route firmly in mind. With a flicker of consciousness, her vision blurred again, and she found herself once more before the stele.

She noticed, too, a final line of small characters at the bottom:

“This is a simplified footwork. The complete technique is stored in the Scripture Pavilion, under the name ‘Treading a Thousand Stars.’”