033. The Mission

Lingyu waited anxiously outside the Jade Summit Hall. The head priest had announced the appearance of a fissure on Mount Tianzhu and ordered all disciples to gather at the hall to receive their assignments.

Since joining the sect, this was the first time Lingyu had encountered a mandatory task. Xuan Yuan Temple was known for its leniency toward upper court disciples; aside from regular evaluations of their cultivation progress, there were no additional obligations. The temple favored the tradition of master-apprentice transmission over rigid regulations.

But this time was different—not only Xuan Yuan Temple, but all Taoist temples in the world, along with a handful of other cultivators, were to be mobilized to repair the fissure.

She could not help but wonder: would this operation truly go as smoothly as the head priest claimed? If so, why did every mage wear such a grave expression?

After a long wait, someone finally emerged from a side chamber and announced, “Elite disciples, you may enter now.”

Lingyu followed closely behind Zhang Qingshu, silently stepping into the side hall.

The core disciples had already been summoned to another chamber, where the head priest personally assigned their tasks. As for the elite disciples, their assignments would likely come from the head of one of the halls, or perhaps simply a mage.

Upon entering, Lingyu discovered it was indeed the latter. Several mages were seated inside, with Han Funing presiding. He was well regarded by the head priest; rumors swirled within the temple that he was secretly the head priest’s son. Lingyu doubted the veracity of this, as there was no resemblance between the two.

Seeing them arrive, Han Funing handed a stack of papers to the disciple at the front of the line to distribute.

Lingyu received a sheet of parchment, densely covered in a list of materials, many of which she had never even heard of. Fortunately, the locations where they might be found were detailed on the reverse.

“These are your assigned tasks,” Han Funing said, his exhaustion evident in both his expression and voice. “You may choose freely which materials to collect, and whether you go alone or in groups. The only requirement: each person must gather at least ten types of materials. If you cannot meet the variety, amassing a significant quantity will also suffice.”

“Uncle Han,” someone asked, flipping through the list, “how much time do we have?”

“Three months,” Han Funing replied. “After three months, your contributions will be evaluated and you will be rewarded or punished accordingly. Do not think I am joking—if you fail to collect enough, you will regret it.”

Three months—a tight deadline. The mention of punishment made everyone tense. While Xuan Yuan Temple was kind to its disciples, its rules were strict: punishment would come as promised, and it would be severe enough to make one wish to avoid it at all costs. Though Han Funing’s tone was mild, his eyes were cold; no one dared take his words lightly.

“Tonight, the temple will provide your travel expenses. Set out tomorrow. Go and prepare.”

With Han Funing’s dismissal, the disciples quickly withdrew.

Lingyu left the main hall with Zhang Qingshu and asked, “Senior Brother Qingshu, what are your plans?”

Zhang Qingshu, equally somber, managed a wry smile. “What else can I do? Pack my things and pray for a bit of luck.”

“Do you plan to go alone or with companions?”

He hesitated at this, then finally said, “Better to go with others. Many places are dangerous—alone, I’m not confident.”

Lingyu nodded. Going alone or with others each had its pros and cons: alone, the risks were higher but the rewards were not shared; in a group, it was safer, but the required materials were greater. Most of them had devoted themselves to cultivation since joining the sect, rarely venturing out. Their practical experience was limited to sparring with fellow disciples—hardly enough to handle the challenges outside alone.

“If it’s not an inconvenience, Senior Brother, may I join you?”

Zhang Qingshu agreed without hesitation. “Junior Sister Cheng is a sword cultivator, and your skills are impressive. To travel with you would be my honor.”

Lingyu smiled, about to discuss their itinerary, when someone shouted from behind, “Cheng Lingyu!”

They turned to see the young acolyte who served Han Funing. The boy ran up to them and addressed Lingyu, “Senior Sister Cheng, Mage Funing requests your presence.”

Zhang Qingshu looked at Lingyu in puzzlement, concern flickering in his eyes.

Lingyu nodded to him and said to the boy with a smile, “Thank you for delivering the message.”

“Please, Senior Sister Cheng, come with me. The mage is waiting,” he replied politely.

Lingyu dared not delay. She told Zhang Qingshu, “I’ll find you later,” and followed the acolyte back.

In the side chamber of Jade Summit Hall, only Han Funing remained. The acolyte led Lingyu in, bowed respectfully, and withdrew.

Lingyu was nervous—was Han Funing going to tell her that their agreement was void? She did not care about entering the Jade Void Hall, but if it concerned that matter, she did not want to miss the opportunity.

Han Funing glanced over her, then nodded slightly. “You haven’t been slacking these past two years.”

She certainly had not been slacking—she had been fighting for her life. Lingyu thought this but maintained a respectful demeanor, bowing as she greeted him. “Greetings, Uncle Han.”

Han Funing’s lips twitched, though he barely smiled, and he gestured toward a seat. “Sit.”

Lingyu sat, anxious as she waited. At last, he spoke, “I called you here to tell you: forget what I told you two years ago.”

Though she had suspected as much, hearing it still brought bitter disappointment.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Han Funing actually smiled—a genuine smile for the first time since she had met him. “I see you’ve already guessed my intention. I like clever children.”

Lingyu drooped. “Uncle Han, the contest for the Imperial Preceptor has been postponed, hasn’t it? If, by then, I reach the seventh level of Qi Refining, can we resume our agreement?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why?” Lingyu pressed. “If this crisis passes, won’t the contest still be held?”

Han Funing nodded, then shook his head, and asked in return, “Do you really think this calamity will pass smoothly?”

Lingyu hesitated but finally nodded firmly. “Of course.”

Han Funing sighed. “You know nothing—where does such confidence come from?”

Lingyu answered, “If we can’t get through it, everyone dies. Confidence or not, it’s all meaningless. If I’m doomed to die, what harm in a little empty bravado? But if we survive, it’s better to have a little faith.”

Han Funing was taken aback, then, after a moment of silence, nodded. “Quite right. You speak with reason.” He stood and walked a few steps, head raised as if in thought. After a long pause, he turned back, his expression resolute. “Cheng Lingyu, listen carefully.”

“This fissure on Mount Tianzhu may be an even greater opportunity. I don’t know how much you understand, but you’re clever enough to have seized the chance I gave you before—you’re no fool. During this material collection, you must follow my orders at all times. If you receive my signal talisman, no matter what you’re doing, you must return immediately. Understood?”