Chapter 89: Men and women should not be too familiar; no peeking allowed! (5000)

Creak—! A faint sound echoed as the bedboard lifted, finally stopping at a sixty-degree angle, revealing a hidden opening below.

Liu Qiansha, holding a lantern, slipped through the opening. After a while, the bedboard slowly lowered, returning to its usual appearance, albeit now a little disheveled.

He made his way through the narrow passageway for some time before the space suddenly opened up ahead.

This was the secret chamber beneath the Palace of Mist and Blossoms. To protect this place, not everything had been moved above ground; most treasures remained here. After its restoration, only the passage from his own quarters could be used to access the chamber. Other than him, only the masters of the four palaces—Heaven, Earth, Sun, and Moon—knew of its existence.

The lantern's light seemed feeble in the spacious secret chamber, illuminated on all sides by lamps. He set the lantern down and walked straight to a side chamber.

This small room was unadorned save for intricate, seemingly chaotic carvings covering all four walls.

By the dim light filtering in, Liu Qiansha stepped to the center of the wall facing the entrance, and skillfully pressed a rounded protrusion on the brow of a carved figure. Immediately, a stone drawer, as wide as the figure’s belt and five inches long, sprung out from the sculpted belt.

Reaching in, Liu Qiansha took a slim blue-bound book and left the chamber.

He sat by a stone table and bench outside, carefully opening the book and poring over its pages once more.

Although the other palace masters knew of this place and most of its treasures, this celestial book was known only to him.

He had studied it passionately for over a decade, and only two years ago realized that the chamber's carvings depicted the heroic deeds of the five gods of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Driven by curiosity, he had explored the wall for a long time before accidentally triggering the mechanism and discovering the book.

The book was not thick, recording the origins and development of the Five Spirits Continent, and even foretelling the wars among the five kingdoms.

Its account of the continent’s origin aligned closely with the stories passed down through the generations:

Shortly after the world began, the vast land of the Five Spirits flourished with dense forests, fragrant blossoms, abundant wildlife, and sweet fruit. Humanity remained primitive, living in tribes, working together, and fending off wild beasts.

Then came a sudden calamity—earthquakes, floods—turning the continent into a living hell. Countless lives were lost to the raging water and falling stones, their cries echoing in misery.

Moved by compassion, the gods sent down the five deities of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, who saved all beings and led humanity out of savagery. They taught farming, animal husbandry, metallurgy, craft, trade, and culture.

After five hundred years, seeing the continent thrive, the five gods decided to return to the heavens, leaving humanity to govern itself.

This news struck terror into the people. Having long regarded themselves as children of the gods, they despaired at the prospect of losing their protectors. How could they continue to live in peace and happiness?

Relenting, the gods agreed to marry mortal women and leave descendants to protect the land. These offspring inherited a portion of divine power and became the people’s chosen kings.

Before departing, the gods selected one exceptionally gifted mortal each, granting them mystical abilities to aid the new monarchs. These five became the royal advisors.

Thus, the continent was divided among five kingdoms—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth—named for the gods, and continued to prosper.

As for later wars, the book explained: the benevolence of the gods’ descendants was gradually corroded by the greed, envy, and narrowness lurking in mortal hearts.

The celestial book prophesied the ruin of the five kingdoms. As things stood, though only the Wood Kingdom had truly fallen and the other four remained seemingly stable, there was an undercurrent of unrest that could not be ignored. All seemed to be unfolding as the book had predicted.

Yet, none of this was what most intrigued Liu Qiansha. What truly captured his attention was the final page.

On that page, a woman was described—one whose birth chart was pure yang, marked by the seven stars, an extraordinary fate encountered but once in a millennium. Her destiny was identical to Jin’er’s.

The lamplight flickered as Liu Qiansha stroked his beard, gazing thoughtfully at the last page. The silence was so complete that even the fall of a pin would have been heard.

Meanwhile, from a pile of large stones in the corner, two round little eyes watched him intently.

It was only after Liu Qiansha put the celestial book back in its hiding place and left with his lantern that a small, nimble white figure squeezed out from between the stones.

This was the lively, clever Little White.

Some time ago, Little White had accidentally entered from a stone-sealed outer tunnel, discovered a crack wide enough for it to slip in and out, and since then had become a frequent visitor.

Since few ever came here, Little White had the run of the place.

After a bout of energetic climbing and leaping, it hopped onto a large stone bookshelf.

The secret chamber held countless books—so many that even the diligent Liu Qiansha, after more than a decade of study, had read less than a third. Some tomes were so arcane that even he could make no sense of them.

Little White scampered past the array of books, eventually stopping in front of a thin, black-covered volume.

Tilting its head in curiosity, it used both paws and teeth to drag the book out.

With a soft thud, the slim book fell to the ground.

Little White sprang down, struggled to roll the book up with its forepaws, then gripped it in its mouth, and—with a kick—disappeared back through the crack from which it came.

Before long, it was gone.

Emerging from the outer tunnel, Little White felt much lighter and dashed off into the night.

With agile leaps, Little White slipped through a half-open window into Tianyu’s room.

By now it was midnight. The room was dark, but a faint, gentle light glimmered in the inner chamber.

Little White skirted the screen and darted straight into the inner room. Reaching the bedside, it dropped the book onto the floor with a soft smack, then began stretching its jaws, obviously worn out from holding the book for so long.

“You went there again today?” Tianyu, sitting cross-legged behind the bed curtains, slowly opened his eyes. The strange black flame in his palm vanished instantly.

He didn’t know where Little White managed to find these secret manuals, but he suspected they must be related to the secret chamber beneath the island. Though no one spoke of the odd events from more than ten years ago, he was not unaware.

Little White gave an excited yelp, pawing at the curled-up book as if urging him to take it.

Smiling, Tianyu rose, drew aside the curtains, lifted Little White in one arm and picked up the black book with the other, then went to sit at a nearby table.

“Thank you. You’ve worked hard,” he said fondly, rubbing its head and offering a bunch of its favorite wild berries as a reward. “Here, eat up.”

Little White accepted eagerly, leaped from his arms, and happily munched away on the table.

With only a single luminous pearl glowing in the room, Tianyu could barely make out the words on the page. He lit the oil lamp on the table.

The cover, as before, bore no title—just like the previous books Little White had brought him. He flipped through the pages: again, obscure and difficult script, but that was exactly what he needed.

Meeting Little White had been a stroke of luck, but he had never imagined the little creature would bring him such surprises time after time.

To outsiders, he appeared to excel only at lightness skills, unaware that he was secretly practicing techniques from these mysterious manuals.

At first, he had struggled for a long time to understand them. Fortunately, his innate talent allowed him to unravel their secrets. After several years, though never having used them against anyone, he was confident that his abilities had grown far beyond what they once were.

But he knew the challenges ahead, and so he pressed himself to train harder, to grow stronger as quickly as possible.

The next day, in the Palace of Mist and Blossoms...

“Girl, barging into the imperial palace is no laughing matter. You’re nowhere near ready,” Liu Qiansha said sternly.

“But I don’t want to wait any longer,” Jin’er replied with a furrowed brow.

In truth, she had made up her mind. Mo Yan possessed the fire spirit, proving he was of royal blood. If she could find him and ask for help, perhaps things wouldn’t be as difficult as she imagined.

“I suggest you train on the island for another year or two. Otherwise, you’ll only throw your life away,” Liu Qiansha said gravely.

Jin’er frowned, thought for a long moment, then asked, “Master, is there any way to speed up my training? I only want to stay for half a year.” She wasn’t afraid of hardship, only of hardship wasted.

She longed desperately to cure her poison, to win her freedom. There was so much she needed to do—she couldn’t bear to be kept under the thumb of that hateful cold poison any longer.

Besides, Qingyue was still waiting for her to bring back the antidote. Though she’d prepared plenty before leaving, it would last no more than half a year. In truth, she couldn’t stay on the island even that long—perhaps just over four months at most.

“A shortcut?” Liu Qiansha raised an eyebrow. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “There is a way, but it will be very tough.”

“I’m not afraid of hardship!” Jin’er replied, anxious and resolute.

“There’s no real shortcut,” Liu Qiansha explained, “but there is a way to progress more quickly—through constant practice in real combat. I’ll arrange for you to spar daily with different opponents to rapidly build your defense and fighting skills. To make it real, I’ll instruct them to avoid your face and vital organs, but otherwise, all other blows are permitted. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Jin’er considered, then looked up and nodded firmly. At least they would hold back somewhat; facing real enemies outside, a single mistake could be fatal. This was an invaluable opportunity—she could not shrink from it.

Leaving the palace, Jin’er spotted Tianyu outside, idly playing with Little White.

Hearing footsteps, Tianyu turned and, seeing her emerge, sprang up to greet her with a smile.

“I went looking for you at the Pavilion of Blossoms, but you weren’t there. I figured you’d be here with your godfather. The guard said you’d gone in, so I waited.”

Jin’er smiled, picked up Little White, and walked with Tianyu.

It was nearly noon—she guessed he was there to invite her to lunch.

“Did you sleep well last night? Any headaches?” Tianyu asked with a gentle smile as they walked.

“Very well—I slept soundly,” Jin’er replied, playing with the mischievous Little White in her arms, her beautiful face lit up by a carefree smile.

“That’s good. You haven’t practiced in over a month. This afternoon, I’ll have to test whether you’ve gotten rusty.”

“All right. But starting tomorrow, I can’t train with you anymore,” Jin’er replied, turning to smile at him.

“Why?” Tianyu was surprised.

“I’m starting my master’s real combat training,” Jin’er said, the hint of anticipation in her voice.

“Real combat?” Tianyu’s brow furrowed with worry. He’d never undergone such training, but he could imagine the danger just from the name.

“Jin’er, why are you so bent on training so hard? Real combat is dangerous—you shouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t it be better if we just practiced together as before?”

Jin’er rolled her eyes at him. “What’s wrong with being a girl? Girls should learn to fight even more—so we can protect ourselves.”

“I can protect you,” Tianyu said quickly.

“No! I want to protect myself. I still need to...” The words “avenge myself” were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back. “Don’t try to dissuade me. My mind is made up.”

Tianyu was flustered and annoyed, but he knew he couldn’t change her mind. He sighed and relented. “Fine, I won’t say more. But promise me to take care of yourself and don’t push too hard. If it’s too much, quit—I’ll explain to your godfather.”

“All right, I know. I’m starving—let’s go eat, shall we?” Jin’er said, playfully changing the subject.

Tianyu shook his head helplessly, his heart already melting.

The next day, Jin’er began her real combat training in earnest. Tianyu left her to it and shut himself away to practice his secret techniques.

Though the training progressed in stages, Jin’er still suffered a minor injury on her first day—a shallow cut on her arm. After changing clothes, it was barely visible.

That evening, Tianyu visited to check on her and was reassured to find her well.

Days passed. As she improved, the training grew more intense. Jin’er, who had started out facing only one or two opponents, could now hold her own against ten.

And these weren’t ordinary opponents, either—they were carefully chosen for being slightly stronger than her. As the difficulty increased, superficial injuries became routine, and she trained through them without missing a single session.

She hid it well, so Tianyu remained unaware. Until, one day, she injured her leg badly enough to be bedridden, and could hide it no longer.

“How did you get so badly hurt? Let me see!” Tianyu said, worried, reaching to lift her trouser leg. Jin’er quickly pulled her foot under the covers.

“A man shouldn’t touch a woman—no peeking!” Jin’er protested.

“Oh, come off it! You never used to say that. You’re hiding something from me!” Tianyu retorted, trying to pull back the covers.

Jin’er’s face paled, and she kicked her legs to avoid his hands, forgetting her injury.

“Ow! That hurts!” she cried, the pain shooting up from her injured leg.

Tianyu immediately stopped. Seeing tears welling in her eyes, he was at a loss.

“I’m sorry—did I hurt you? I won’t look. Please don’t cry...” he stammered, hurrying to her bedside.

Jin’er had only teared up from the pain, but seeing the worry on his face, the tears began to fall in earnest.

Tianyu was terrified—he’d never seen her cry before.

“Jin’er, don’t cry. I was wrong—please don’t cry... If you’re angry, hit me...” He clumsily took her wrist and tried to press her hand to his chest.

“Ah!” Jin’er gasped in surprise, and Tianyu instantly released her.

“What’s wrong?” Before he could finish, he saw a trace of red seeping through the bandages on her wrist where he had just held her.

Eyes wide, he grabbed her hand before she could pull away and rolled up her sleeve.

There, her slender wrist was wrapped in bandages—clearly injured, and his grip had reopened the wound.