The Paper Crane

Inside the wooden cottage. Though she had swept it with her spiritual power countless times, the scent of another person still seemed to linger in the room. Fairy Chenyan sat upright on a prayer mat, fully dressed. Hanging before the mat was a portrait of someone—not Dongyang Bo. Normally, according to the requirements of the cultivation technique, she should have immediately gone into secluded meditation, using the evil technique and this person's primal yang to pursue a glimmer of opportunity for a breakthrough. Yet she remained sitting motionless like this, eyes glazed, her unfocused gaze resting on the portrait. Her expression was somewhat strange, as though she were struggling against something. In the end, she murmured toward the portrait, "Master, your disciple cultivated an evil technique and harmed an innocent person... Was I wrong?" A portrait was an inanimate object, naturally incapable of giving her an answer. The wooden cottage was utterly silent. A moment later, Fairy Chenyan suddenly straightened up. The confusion vanished, replaced by an expression of firm resolve. She abruptly opened her palm, revealing over a dozen silver needles as fine as strands of hair. With a flick of Fairy Chenyan's wrist, the silver needles scattered. Cold light glinted on their surfaces, and their tips radiated wisps of chill, causing the temperature within the wooden cottage to plummet. These silver needles hovered midair, pointing from afar toward various acupuncture points across her body, most of them aimed at the points on her head. Next, Fairy Chenyan's hands shifted through mudras, casting profound runes that fell upon the silver needles. The needles grew increasingly crystalline and translucent, runes flowing across them with profound mystery. Whoosh, whoosh... One needle after another sank deep into her acupuncture points. She remained expressionless, seemingly feeling not the slightest pain. But as the final silver needle descended toward the crown of her head, just about to pierce the Baihui point, Fairy Chenyan suddenly hesitated, as if recalling something. The silver needle hovered above her head, unable to advance even an inch. Fairy Chenyan flicked her finger. A streak of spiritual power transformed into a sheet of paper before her, which then folded itself into a paper crane. Within the dim wooden cottage, the paper crane flapped its wings, scattering specks of stardust. It danced in circles around Fairy Chenyan, letting out crisp crane cries as if joyfully expressing gratitude to its creator. Looking at the playful paper crane, Fairy Chenyan, who had remained expressionless all this while, suddenly broke into a smile. She tapped its head with mock annoyance and whispered a few words silently into its ear. A moment later, the paper crane bobbed its folded head, let out a soft cry, and flew out through the window lattice. ... Shaohua Mountain's summit. A precipitous solitary peak, capped with white snow, nearly pierced the astral winds of the nine heavens. The summit was where Shaohua Mountain's spirit veins converged, its spiritual energy dense to the absolute extreme. Yet atop the snowy mountain stood only a single cave abode—the place of quiet cultivation belonging to Shaohua Mountain's Nascent Soul Patriarch, Dongyang Bo. Apart from the ceaseless howling of the frigid winds, not a single sound disturbed the mountaintop; disciples of Shaohua Mountain would never dare come here to disturb the Patriarch. Suddenly, a speck of starlight flew over from the distant horizon. Enclosed within the starlight was a palm-sized paper crane. Struggling through the astral winds, it flew to the front of the cave abode. The cave abode's gates swung silently open, and a giant hand formed of spiritual power caught the paper crane and pulled it inside. Inside the cave abode. Dongyang Bo crushed the paper crane and gave a derisive chuckle. ... Just as Qin Sang stepped out of the wooden cottage, the scenery before him suddenly shifted. Powerless to resist, he was displaced off the island. Then, clouds and mist billowed over the islet, cloaking the entire island in the blink of an eye. Mysterious light flickered amidst the haze until, at last, the whole island vanished completely from Qin Sang's sight. Where it had been, only the dark, tranquil ripples of water remained, completely open to view; the islet was nowhere to be seen. Qin Sang knew that the island's master had activated the grand formation—this cave abode would now be sealed off entirely. Looking into the lake water beneath his feet at his current reflection—having aged several decades in one night—he could not help but let a bitter smile touch his lips. The intimacy of last night could hardly be described as romantic. What remained sharpest in his memory was only the final helplessness and terror, his vital qi pouring out like a broken dam while he could only watch helplessly, incapable of putting up any resistance. Fortunately, the other party had shown mercy, voluntarily stopping just as his jade fluid was on the verge of exhaustion. She had even reached out to seal his primal yang and stabilize his jade cauldron. His cultivation base was in grave peril, but there was still a chance to salvage it. Feeling what little spiritual power remained in his sea of qi, along with the pervasive weakness throughout his body, Qin Sang strained to gather his spiritual power. He was just about to activate the Sky-Soaring Shuttle and find a deserted island to refine the Nine Yang Pill— Just then, a silver light suddenly flashed before his eyes. The flying boat emerged from who-knew-where, hovering right in front of him. Qin Sang's expression shifted slightly. When he discovered last night that Master Mawu had been replaced by Fairy Chenyan, he realized there had to be something shady going on. If even the Sect Master didn't know the truth, would he, as the sole insider, be silenced? Fairy Chenyan was a high-level cultivator on the verge of forming a Nascent Soul; she could obliterate him with a single finger. In the end, not only had she spared his life, but she had also kept her promise and refrained from destroying his foundation entirely. If she wanted to silence him, she wouldn't need to go through such trouble. That gave Qin Sang a measure of relief, but he still dared not gamble with his life. He had originally planned to find a spot to take the Nine Yang Pill, stabilize his sea of qi, and then return to his own cave abode at top speed to enter secluded cultivation—or simply flee far away and wait to see how things unfolded before deciding his next move. He never expected the flying boat to be waiting outside the island. In his current state, he couldn't run even if he tried, leaving him no room to overthink. He stepped onto the flying boat and returned to Shaohua Mountain. The flying boat dropped him off at the same cave abode as before, then swept away into the distance. Like a cat catching the scent of fish, Sect Master Yu arrived on his flying sword immediately afterward. Taken aback by the sight of Qin Sang's face, he said urgently, "Junior Brother Qin, hurry and refine the Nine Yang Pill at once!" Qin Sang felt suspicious, his gaze sweeping over Sect Master Yu's face. Seeing that his concern did not appear feigned, Qin Sang finally let his guard down. In no mood for pleasantries, he said weakly, "Pardon my rudeness." With that, he plunged straight into the cave abode, retrieved the Nine Yang Pill, and swallowed it. Upon entering his belly, the medicinal pill immediately transformed into a gentle current of heat, surging all the way from his throat down into his sea of qi. The depleted vital qi throughout his body, replenished by the yang energy of the Nine Yang Pill, rapidly recovered. Strands of medicinal potency flowed throughout his limbs, and the pervasive weakness gradually eased. As his vital qi returned, his outward appearance naturally reverted to its youthful state. His sea of qi, which had been teetering on the verge of collapse, also began to turn slowly at this moment. The spiritual energy within the cave abode was stirred, gathering around Qin Sang. Feeling his cultivation base slowly recovering, Qin Sang breathed a quiet relief. He felt no abnormalities in his origin soul, proving that the jade Buddha had helped him avert the greatest hazard of being a cauldron. His only worry now was that the Foundation Establishment cultivation he had attained with such difficulty might fall. Fortunately, the Nine Yang Pill did not disappoint him. His sea of qi recovered faster and faster until it was brimming with spiritual power once more. Yet Qin Sang gave a quiet sigh. The miracle he had hoped for did not occur. His sea of qi had shrunk by more than ten percent compared to before. If it could not be restored, he would always possess ten percent less spiritual power than cultivators of the same realm. This meant that in future battles against peers of the same realm, he could never afford to get drawn into a contest of pure spiritual power attrition.