Spring brought with it the scent of flowers and rain. The manicured gardens and immaculate paths of the inner sect mountain came alive with color, and the challenges of the past year faded as if washed away with the changing seasons.

Through it all He Yu trained. Although his stipend from the sect had increased with his promotion to inner disciple, it wasn’t nearly enough. He spent most of his time completing jobs for the inner sect. Many of them had him visiting the outer sect mountain. More frequently than he cared to admit, he had to deal with an incursion of the mantis-like cave beasts he and the others had released during their misadventure before the tournament.

Otherwise, he performed jobs of a similar nature. Nothing that took him too far away from the sect itself—he didn’t want to be gone for too long. To that end, he took assignments that paid well and could be completed quickly. Unlike his early days in the outer sect, he spent his contribution points freely.

He booked time in the sect’s cultivation chambers. He bought pills and elixirs. He paid for tutoring with Fang Yingjie at least once a week. He spent his evenings in the sect archives, reading profound scriptures and contemplations of great sages. He meditated on his Wayborn Seed and his connection to the Eternal Dao.

During this time, Zhang Lifen came and went. She was even more busy than he was, owing to her responsibilities as a core disciple. But whenever she returned to the sect proper, she made time for him. Her training mostly consisted of him trying to hit her while she lectured him on the finer points of cultivation and imparted some of her own insights into the Eternal Dao. Between her lectures and his time in the archives, he felt he was growing closer to something important—but exactly what he couldn’t yet say.

The frustrations he’d felt with her in the beginning had since all but vanished. Her training, including her lectures, was barely something he could handle, even now. He’d since realized that the true value of her attention wouldn’t show itself until he advanced. Despite never even coming close to landing a blow on her, he was improving. Against anyone at his own level of advancement, there were precious few who could easily avoid his strikes now.

His sparring sessions with Li Heng continued. Yan Shirong joined in more frequently than not these days, having advanced to late Body Refining himself. Both of them had their own unique fighting styles, and they tested his abilities in different ways. Yan Shirong in particular was of great help in improving the Spring Rain Mirror.

The shadowy cultivator’s ability to attack from surprising and unexpected angles forced He Yu to rely on the guidance provided by the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment. As Yan Shirong’s mastery over his own techniques increased, He Yu found him harder to deal with. It was the perfect training opportunity.

Occasionally Tan Xiaoling would join them. On those days He Yu was reminded of just what a monster the Jade Princess really was. In single combat, she was more than a match for any of them. Even without her sandstorm—the Breath of the White Desert—she was a fierce fighter. He Yu had come to welcome the training opportunity she provided. Especially now that both of them were at the peak of the Third Realm.

With the sheer relentless tempo of her attacks, she pushed He Yu’s control of the Spring Rain Mirror to its absolute limits. At first, he could only deflect one in every five of her blows, at most, but that number increased the more often he faced off against her. He still found himself having to fall back on his weapon or his speed for defense more often than not, but by the end of the season, he found his ability to deal with her had improved dramatically.

The one who helped him with the technique the most, however, was Chen Fei. When He Yu had first asked her to accompany him to the sect market, it had been purely out of an interest to spend more time with her. Like him, she’d been busy with assignments, training, and cultivation, so he’d been seeing less of her than he wanted. Their trips to the market had started to become more regular, and he’d slowly started to become more comfortable around her. It was only by chance that he mentioned his frustration at how long it was taking him to master the Spring Rain Mirror.

It had seemed painfully obvious once she’d pointed it out to him, but the technique worked similarly to the barriers she created with her family art, the Seventy-Two Blessed Symbols. From there she shared the insights she’d gained from forming her Wayborn Seed—insights that seemed almost tailor-made to effectively use the Spring Rain Mirror—along with her knowledge of formations.

Chen Fei proved to be a patient and effective teacher. Her enthusiasm, especially when talking about formations, was infectious and something that provided no small measure of comfort to He Yu. There had always been this itch at the back of his mind. Like he was the only one who cared as deeply about the things that interested him. Most other disciples were pretty open about their reasons for cultivation—power, status, the expectations of their families. He Yu was different though. He followed his Way simply for its own sake.

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Concerning formations, Chen Fei was much the same. She was fascinated by them, and their endless utility and complexity. While He Yu didn’t share her excitement, he recognized in her something that he understood well and appreciated it all the same. It certainly didn’t hurt that her enthusiasm was tied to something that helped with his current difficulties.

As spring gave way to summer, He Yu was sitting with Chen Fei and Yan Shirong in one of the inner sect’s many gardens when the distant rumble of thunder rolled over the mountain. He Yu looked up to where the edge of an approaching storm had gathered, clouds flashing with the light of heaven.

“Everything okay?” Chen Fei asked.

He Yu nodded. “Just thinking. About home, oddly enough.”

“You haven’t been back since joining the sect, have you?” she asked.

“I’ve barely even thought about it. It was just the thunder. We’d always get these thunderstorms during summer. It was my favorite time of year because I could sit inside my father’s forge and watch the rain. I just miss that, I guess.”

“It’s not as if Shulin is all that far,” Yan Shirong said. “You could probably make it there in a couple of weeks at most. And that’s if you took your time.”

“I don’t want to be away from the sect for that long. I feel like I’m so close to being able to form my Golden Core. This will be my twentieth summer. How many cultivators can say they reached the Fourth Realm this young?”

“It would be impressive,” Yan Shirong allowed. “Your own mentor was twenty-two if I recall.”

“Tan Xiaoling is twenty and she hasn’t formed hers yet,” Chen Fei said, gazing off at the storm and toying with a fallen twig. “It would be a fitting start to an immortal’s legend,” she added with a bright smile.

He Yu couldn’t help but flush a bit at that. While the both of them knew full well his obsession with stories and legends, they’d both teased him in their own turn about it. Chen Fei had always been more good-natured about it than Yan Shirong, but lately, they both seemed to have started taking the idea a bit more seriously.

“Sister Chen isn’t wrong,” Yan Shirong said. “Do it and you’ll become the sect’s new rising star. Maybe they’ll even give you Senior Sister Zhang’s spot as a core disciple.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “She’s already reached middle Nascent Soul. Then there’s the whole rank thing. From what I’ve heard, she was an aggressive duelist before she entered the inner sect. I haven’t even managed to pass rank six hundred yet.”

Although he’d fought a couple of ranked duels since defeating Mo Zhiqiang, he’d been focused mostly on cultivation and sect assignments. Now that the steady flow of resources from Mo Zhiqiang’s hired lackeys had dried up, he found that keeping himself stocked with pills and elixirs was tougher than he’d have liked. He’d peaked at rank six-hundred-three, and decided that he’d likely wait until reaching the Fourth Realm before trying to go much higher.

“You should go home if you have the chance,” Chen Fei said. She’d been quiet for some time, lost in thought. “Like Yan Shirong said, it isn’t far. I’m sure your father would like to see you at least.”

He Yu wanted to object. There was something in her tone, though, that made him stop. Instead, he asked, “What about you?”

“Me? Um, my home is far,” she said. “Maybe one of these days. I do miss my family, but, you know.”

“I do?” he asked.

Chen Fei looked down and Yan Shirong jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

“I guess,” he added quickly, more amazed that Yan Shirong had picked up on her discomfort for once. “I’m sure you’ll get the chance eventually.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said with an awkward laugh.

They fell into talking about more pleasant topics after that. He Yu hardly paid attention, instead focusing on the gathering clouds and the rumble of distant thunder. By the time they parted ways, the storm had worn itself out, but it still dominated He Yu’s thoughts.

He’d spent all spring refining the Spring Rain Mirror. By now his aspects were mostly balanced, with water lagging only a little bit behind wind and heaven. His presence had continued to reify, becoming more and more like the storms he’d enjoyed back in Shulin. The impressions of clouds crackling with lightning had become familiar, as had the tug of wind when he released his spirit. The rain, before merely a hint—a scent carried on the wind—was now a promise.

The clouds that made up the bulk of his presence had steadily darkened. Lightning still flickered within, but now it seemed more alive than it had. Occasionally scattered rains would fall, like when he’d fought Sha Xiang in the tournament, but they were nothing compared to the coming deluge. He knew what was in store. He could feel it as certain as he could feel his growing connection to his Wayborn Seed. All he needed to make it real was one last push.

As he returned home, he made his decision. From his old storage treasure, tucked away in an unused room in his home, He Yu fetched several potent elixirs he’d managed to get his hands on over the past six months. One for each of his three aspects, wind, heaven, and water. He also brought one of his dwindling stock of mid-grade spirit stones with him when he closed himself in his cultivation chamber. No point in doing things halfway.

After taking his elixirs, He Yu turned his thoughts inward as he cradled the mid-grade stone in his hands. He focused on the feeling of subtly growing pressure in his dantian. Although he knew that he could probably wait and increase his cultivation base even further, he felt ready. He felt like it was his time. There would be plenty of opportunity to delay when he reached the peak of the Fourth Realm.

The lower realms were nothing. He realized now that Li Heng had been right—it was a greater benefit to advance through them quickly. Reach Golden Core then slow down.

He focused on the swirling mass of qi in his dantian. With the potent energies of the elixirs flowing through his meridians, boosted by the extra qi from his mid-grade stone, He Yu compressed the pool of qi sitting still and serene at the center of his spirit.

His dantian pulsed. His world turned white, and he only knew pain.