Tao was crouched among the rows of Spirit Lotus Saplings when he heard the deliberate scrape of boots against the stone path behind him. The sound carried an air of smugness, and Tao didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Tao,” Wei called, his tone dripping with false camaraderie. “You’ve been keeping secrets, haven’t you?”

Tao stood, brushing dirt from his hands. “What do you want, Wei?”

Wei stepped closer, his grin widening. “Elder Hua seemed impressed with that technique you submitted. Word gets around, you know. You’ve got something useful, and I want it.”

Tao’s expression hardened. “The technique belongs to the sect now. If you want it, you can ask Elder Hua.”

Wei laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, I will. But why wait for her approval when I can just get it from you? Save us both the trouble.”

Tao’s grip on his tools tightened, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m not giving you anything.”

Wei’s grin didn’t falter. “You will. One way or another. I can make life very uncomfortable for you, Tao. Think about that.”

As Wei walked away, his laughter echoing behind him, Tao’s jaw clenched. He knew Wei’s type—persistent, petty, and willing to exploit any weakness. The Moonlit Ferns in his quarters weren’t safe, even with the Veil of Stillness Array. Wei’s meddling could undo everything.

That night, Tao made a decision. The Jade Mountain was his greatest secret and his greatest hope. If he could bring it out from his dantian, he was sure it would help him overcome many of his struggles. Tao packed the Moonlit Ferns into secure pots and slipped out of the sect grounds, heading for the forest under the cover of darkness.

The secluded clearing he chose was shielded by tall, ancient trees, their canopies forming a dense, protective barrier against prying eyes. Tao sat cross-legged in the centre, the pots of Moonlit Ferns placed carefully beside him. He had ventured as far into the forest as he dared, certain that the sect elders couldn’t detect the Jade Mountain’s Qi signature. At the ninth stage of Qi Condensation, their senses were sharp, but they lacked the divine sense of higher realms, leaving them unable to perceive subtle fluctuations from this distance. The Patriarch, Yu Tian, was another matter entirely. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator, his perception was said to span incredible distances, a thought that made Tao’s chest tighten. Shaking off his unease, he closed his eyes and focused inward, searching for the faint, steady pulse of the Jade Mountain within his dantian.

It was there, a steady presence, but coaxing it out proved far more difficult than he had imagined. Tao tried guiding his Qi into the mountain, shaping it into threads to pull the object free, but it resisted, as immovable as the earth itself. He shifted tactics, infusing his Qi with intent, picturing the mountain materializing before him. Still, it refused to respond.

Hours passed, and Tao’s frustration mounted. Sweat dripped down his brow as he poured every ounce of his concentration into the task. Just as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, a flicker of energy surged through his dantian. The Jade Mountain trembled, and then, with a blinding flash, it appeared before him.

The miniature mountain hovered in the air, its jade surface glowing softly. Tao stared in awe, his breath caught in his throat. The energy it radiated was immense, yet it felt oddly harmonious, as though it belonged there with him.

Steeling himself, Tao reached out and infused the mountain with his Qi once more, this time guiding it to expand. The world shifted around him, the forest dissolving into mist. When the haze cleared, Tao found himself standing within the Jade Mountain’s inner world.

The landscape was breathtaking. The Spirit Mountain loomed before him just as it had done once before, its peak shrouded in swirling clouds. The air buzzed with vitality, each breath filling Tao with a sense of renewal.

Tao walked forward following the same path that he had the first time he had entered this space. He carried the Moonlit Ferns with him to a patch of fertile soil near the boundary of swirling mist that seemed impenetrable. Kneeling, he carefully planted the ferns, using the Nurturing Cycle Root Technique to stabilize their roots. The plants responded immediately, their silvery leaves glowing brighter as they absorbed the rich energy of the mountain.

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As Tao finished, a deep, resonant voice echoed through the air.

“You have succeeded in your first task.”

Tao stood, his heart pounding. Before him, a faint light coalesced into a scroll that floated gently into his hands. The voice continued:

“This cultivation method is your reward. To proceed further, you must reach the mid-stage of Qi Condensation. Only then will the path up the mountain reveal itself.”

Tao’s mind churned with questions, the silence of the Jade Mountain realm weighing heavily on him. He clutched the scroll in his hands, the words of the unseen voice still ringing in his ears: You must reach mid-stage Qi Condensation before ascending further. But why him? Why this mountain?

Before he could untangle his thoughts, the air grew unnaturally cold. The mist around him began to thicken, swirling like a living thing. It coiled and twisted, blotting out the ethereal glow of the realm. A faint, almost musical chime echoed through the air, as if the very essence of the mountain were singing.

Tao’s heart raced as a shape began to form within the mist—a silhouette both elegant and imposing. Slowly, the fog peeled away, revealing a creature that seemed to step out of myth itself.

The fox emerged with an almost lazy grace, its fur shimmering with a luminescent sheen, as though woven from the light of the moon. Nine tails unfurled behind it, their movements hypnotic, trailing streams of silver flame that hissed softly in the air. Its golden eyes locked onto Tao, piercing and ancient, filled with a knowing amusement that sent a chill down his spine.

The fox tilted its head, its voice rich and layered, like the echo of a bell in a quiet temple. “So, this is the one who stumbles into the mountain’s favour. Curious.”

Tao’s breath caught in his throat. The fox’s presence was overwhelming, its every movement exuding an otherworldly authority. “Who… what are you?”

The fox chuckled, a sound both melodic and sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. “You have many questions, little one. Far too many. But if you insist, you may call me Shenli. I am the guardian of this mountain, the weaver of its mysteries, and the keeper of secrets you are far too green to comprehend.”

Tao straightened; his awe tempered by a flicker of defiance. “If I’m not ready, then why was I brought here? Why did the mountain choose me?”

Shenli’s tails swayed lazily, the silver flames dancing in intricate patterns. “Why indeed? The mountain’s choices are its own, inscrutable and infinite. Perhaps it saw potential in you. Or perhaps it simply needed entertainment.”

Tao frowned, frustration simmering. “What’s at the top of the mountain? What legacy am I supposed to strive for?”

The fox’s gaze sharpened, its golden eyes narrowing. “Legacy?” It let out a soft, derisive snort. “Always so eager for answers, you humans. The peak holds what it holds. Power? Enlightenment? Perhaps a fate you’d wish you’d never sought. Only those who climb it will know.”

Tao stepped forward, his voice rising. “You’re avoiding the question. Why is this mountain connected to me?”

Shenli yawned, baring sharp, pearl white teeth that gleamed in the silver light. “Ah, humans. So persistent, so noisy.” It regarded him with a faint smirk. “The mountain and you are bound, yes, but not in a way you can grasp yet. That bond may be a gift, or it may be a burden. Time will tell which you deserve.”

The fox began to circle him, its movements fluid and deliberate. “But let me give you some advice, little cultivator. This realm does not reward idle curiosity. You will find no answers by pestering me like a child begging for scraps. If you wish to understand, then prove yourself worthy of the mountain’s favour.”

Tao clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. “Then tell me how! How do I prove myself?”

Shenli stopped abruptly, its tails flaring behind it like a silver storm. The air around them trembled, and Tao felt an invisible pressure weigh down on him. The fox’s expression shifted, a cold amusement glinting in its eyes.

“Enough,” it said, its voice a soft growl that carried the weight of the realm itself. “Your questions bore me. If you wish to ascend, then climb. If you wish to grow, then struggle. That is all you need to know.”

With a flick of its paw, the mist around Tao surged like a tidal wave. He felt an immense force strike him, his body weightless as he was hurled through the air. The fox’s voice echoed faintly, laced with a mocking edge.

“Out you go, little cultivator. Come back when you have something more interesting to offer.”

The world spun violently, and Tao landed with a jolt. He gasped, his hands clutching the cool grass of the forest clearing. The Jade Mountain’s pulse throbbed faintly within his dantian, a steady reminder of what he had just left behind.

The Moonlit Ferns were gone, planted securely in the pocket realm. Relief flickered through him, but it was short-lived. Tao rushed back to his quarters, only to find the door ajar.

Inside, chaos reigned. His belongings were scattered, the Veil of Stillness Array shattered. Rage boiled in his chest as he took in the destruction. It could only be Wei’s handiwork.

As he stood amidst the wreckage, the jade mountain pulsed again, a faint but resolute presence. Tao’s eyes narrowed. Wei had made a grave mistake.

This time, Tao would make sure he learned it.