Chapter 4: Secret Realm here I come!

Time flew.

The sun now stood high overhead, bathing the world in a yellow glow and casting crisp, clear shadows below.

Gusts of wind whipped around them as they soared through the clouds. Zhao Lingfeng's arms were wrapped around Yōu Lán's slender waist as they rode her sword through the bright sky, a position that would have seemed impossible mere hours ago.

If my old brothers could see me now... he thought, trying to distract himself from his current predicament. Riding through the sky with a beautiful fairy. They'd probably think I was playing some premium gacha game.

But this was no game, and Yōu Lán was very much real.

The subtle fragrance of mountain herbs and her fresh scent that clung to her robes reminded him of that with every breath. Her long black hair, occasionally swept by the strong wind, brushed against his face, making his heart beat a little faster with each fleeting touch.

"Junior Brother should adjust his position," Yōu Lán's voice carried back to him, clear despite the rushing wind. "The next stretch has particularly turbulent spiritual currents."

"Ah... yes, Senior Sister," Zhao Lingfeng responded, his voice catching slightly. The first few times they'd encountered such currents he'd tried resting his chin on her shoulder. A natural position, or so he'd thought. That had resulted in a startled jump from Yōu Lán that nearly sent them plummeting through several layers of clouds.

Apparently, the mighty Core Disciple was ticklish.

At least that's what he thought, considering she appeared rather fine with him holding her waist. Or maybe it was because his face was a little too close…

After all, they were man and woman, so it made sense.

Yet now, Zhao Lingfeng found himself in an even more awkward position.

Resting his chin atop her head when the winds grew fierce. The height difference between them made it necessary, but it felt bizarrely intimate. He was almost a whole head taller than her. She wasn't short for the record. It was just the common height difference between man and woman.

The whole scene was like something out of those cultivation romance novels that definitely weren't hidden in his room.

Stop thinking weird thoughts! he chided himself. She's basically a raid boss compared to you. Wait… raid bosses are meant to be conquered. So… Damn it Zhao Lingfeng! Focus on survival!

Still he couldn't help but notice how she'd gradually relaxed over their journey. The initial rigidity in her posture had softened, though whether from fatigue or growing comfort with their arrangement, he couldn't tell. To any observers below, they might have appeared as one of those legendary cultivation couples, soaring through the heavens harmoniously.

Zhao Lingfeng almost laughed at the thought. Him, looking like he belonged with the fourth-ranked beauty of the Six Fairies? His current appearance while not ugly and was above average to be considered handsome, if he took the time to carefully style his appearance, was hardly worthy of such company.

Five years of menial labor had given him a sturdy frame, but his features somewhat lacked, marked by the kind of weathering that came from spending more time with menial jobs than focused martial training or cultivation.

The sword beneath them suddenly lurched, catching a particularly violent current. His grip tightened instinctively, and he felt Yōu Lán tense slightly before relaxing again.

"My apologies, Senior Sister," he muttered, acutely aware of how his arms encircled her waist much tighter.

"It's fine," she replied, her voice carrying that same serene quality it always did, though he could have sworn there was a slight tremor in it. "Better secure than scattered across three provinces."

Did... did this cool Core Disciple fairy just make a joke?

Before he could process this unprecedented event, she continued, "We're approaching the gathering point. Junior Brother should prepare himself."

The playful winds suddenly felt colder, more ominous. Ahead, barely visible through the gathering amber light, a mountain peak pierced the clouds like an ancient sword thrust into the heavens. Even from this distance, Zhao Lingfeng could make out dozens of sword lights and flying vessels converging on its summit.

Other disciples.

Competitors.

Potential enemies.

His grip on Yōu Lán's waist loosened slightly as he straightened, trying to project more dignity than he felt. After all, he was arriving with one of the Seven Core Disciples of his sect. He couldn't shame her by looking like a terrified mortal on his first flight.

"This junior is ready," he declared, surprised by the steadiness in his voice.

He felt rather than saw Yōu Lán's slight nod. "Remember," she said softly, "what others see as trash might hold hidden value. Adapt and survive."

The words struck him.

Did she know something about his situation?

About the sabotage that morning?

Or was this simply generic advice from senior to junior?

Before he could ponder further, their sword angled downward, beginning its descent toward the gathered cultivators. Zhao Lingfeng took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the thin mountain air.

Let's see if five years of grinding can keep me alive in this secret realm.

The mountain peak grew larger, and with it, the weight of destiny pressed heavier upon his shoulders. But this time, unlike that rainy day in his past life, he refused to let opportunity slip through his fingers.

***

The mountain peak jutted from the earth. Up-close it wasn't as awe-inspiring as seen in the distance. Unremarkable in every way save for its isolation. Mist clung to its weathered flanks, obscuring the gathering of cultivators that now darkened its summit like a murder of crows. As Yōu Lán's sword descended through the evening air, Zhao Lingfeng caught snippets of conversation carried on the wind.

"...just another forgotten mountain..."

"...ugh hopefully this would have something I can at least use..."

"...probably missed by our ancestors for good reason..."

The dismissive murmurs painted a clear picture.

This was no legendary cultivation site, no ancient immortal's den.

Just a lonely peak that had somehow sprouted a secret realm like a mushroom after rain. The discovery had been mundane: a wandering herb gatherer had noticed spiritual fluctuations where none should exist. By the time the local sects investigated, the entrance had already begun to form.

Their sword touched down on a flat expanse near the summit, where other disciples gathered in loose sectarian clusters. Zhao Lingfeng released his hold on Yōu Lán with carefully measured movements, trying to ignore the sudden absence of her warmth. As he straightened his robes, he felt the weight of numerous gazes upon him.

Zhao Lingfeng, slightly paused under the weight of those gazes. Still, he managed to keep his head high and back straight.

His fellow cleaning disciples, who have just arrived a little earlier, stood apart from the main crowd. Their expressions carried a mixture of anticipation and unease. Junior Sister Tang Min caught his eye briefly before looking away, her fingers worrying at the hem of her sleeve. Brother Chen's face carried an unusual tension. Even the stoic Senior Brother Fan Wei stood unnaturally still.

"Remember," Yōu Lán's voice drew his attention back to her. "Five days. The realm's closure cannot be prevented or delayed. What you find inside..."

She paused, her light blue eyes reflecting the dying sunlight.

"Take only what you can protect."

Before Zhao Lingfeng could properly thank her, she had already moved away, joining a gathering of senior disciples who were discussing the final preparations. He watched her go, noting how other cultivators parted before her like mist before a sword.

A gong sounded, its deep resonance drawing all eyes to a raised platform where representatives from each sect stood in formal array. An elder from the host sect, not one Zhao Lingfeng recognized, stepped forward to address the gathered disciples.

"The Oversight Realm opens before us," the elder announced, his voice carrying easily across the summit. "Its nature is unknown, its dangers uncharted. We set no restrictions except these: survive, return before the realm's closure, and remember that while death may come, it should not come cheaply."

The elder's eyes swept across the assembled disciples. "This is not a place worth dying for. But for those in the early realms of cultivation, it may be a place worth risking death for. Choose wisely."

Zhao Lingfeng felt movement beside him and turned to find Junior Brother Liu had drawn near. "Brother Zhao Lingfeng," Liu whispered, his voice barely audible above the wind. "About this morning..."

But before Liu could continue, spiritual energy began to surge around them. The secret realm's entrance was opening, reality appearing to break. Golden light spilled from the widening crack, carrying with it the promise of opportunity and the scent of ancient air.

The elder's voice rose one final time:

"Five days! Remember this limit as you would remember your own name. Now—enter!"

Chaos erupted as hundreds of disciples surged forward, spiritual energy (Qi) fluctuations rippled through the air as the stronger cultivators harnessed bursts of energy to propel themselves faster, while others charged forward on foot. Zhao Lingfeng moved with the tide, his mind racing.

As he crossed the threshold into golden light, one thought burned in his mind:

This time, I won't let opportunity slip away. No matter what dangers I encounter, no matter what traps await—I refuse to remain at the bottom.

The light engulfed him, and the world changed.