Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

In times of crisis, authority flows not from titles alone but from the courage to act decisively. A true leader must sometimes break down gates to build bridges, for the walls we erect in fear often become the chains that bind us. Remember that power wielded with wisdom can transform destruction into creation, and that sometimes the greatest act of leadership is to shatter the very barriers we once thought protected us.

—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

The southern gate hummed with activity as soldiers formed neat rows alongside two ornate carriages and a supply wagon. Servants scurried between them, making final preparations. The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Xiulan approached the lead carriage.

A thin layer of frost coated the metal handle, crackling beneath her touch as she pulled the door open. A wisp of cold air escaped, carrying the faintest scent of winter despite the spring warmth.

Inside, Mei Chen lay motionless on the plush seat, wrapped in layers of thick blankets—a pretense of comfort that did nothing to warm her unnaturally cold body.

Xiulan reached out, pressing two fingers against Mei Chen’s neck. No pulse. Her qi remained rapid and cold as before, neither advancing nor retreating from that strange threshold between life and death.

The carriage door clicked shut with quiet finality. Xiulan turned toward the mounted escort where Instructor Han waited beside her saddled horse. The leather of her new riding boots creaked as she approached.

"We stand ready, Miss Lin." Instructor Han bowed from his saddle.

Xiulan swung herself onto her horse with ease. The weight of two new daggers pressed against her sides as she settled into position. Her short spear tugged at her back in its new sheathe.

This time, she faced the road as a rider rather than a passenger, and she had a commanding view of everything.

"Let’s go." Xiulan nudged her horse forward, and the convoy lurched into motion behind her.

The mountain path winded through stands of ancient pines and cypress trees. Xiulan breathed in the crisp air, savoring the freedom of horseback rather than being confined to a stuffy carriage. Each hoofbeat carried them further from Lin Manor’s suffocating politics.

The sun climbed overhead as they approached a familiar clearing. Xiulan’s stomach twisted at the sight of the abandoned campsite where they’d helped the woodsmen. Empty.

Just like every search party’s report on the missing woodcutters. More victims of her father’s machinations and Madam Zhang’s cruelty. At least her mother would be dealing with the snakes.

"Instructor Han." Xiulan turned in her saddle. "Can we reach the bottom before sunset?"

"With this weather and our pace?" Instructor Han nodded. "The path ahead runs clear."

"Then let’s press on." Xiulan spurred her horse past the clearing. The sooner they left the ghosts behind, the better. "We’ll make camp in the forest below."

Orange sunlight filtered through the canopy as they reached the valley floor. The convoy spread out to establish their campsite among the trees.

"Deer!" The crossbowman’s excited shout drew Xiulan toward the edge of camp.

A sharp twang split the air. Xiulan joined the men checking behind the targeted bush. A small deer lay motionless, the bolt placed with surprising accuracy.

The guards gathered wood and soon had a fire crackling. The aroma of roasting venison filled the clearing as they shared stories and laughter. Xiulan sat at the edge of their circle, watching their easy companionship with an uncertain distance.

She ate slowly while listening. When she was done, she set aside her empty bowl and stood. "Time to retire for the night."

"Your tent stands ready, Miss Lin." Instructor Han gestured toward a spacious pavilion tent.

"The men can use it. Three or four should fit in there comfortably." Xiulan brushed dust from her robes.

Confused glances passed between the soldiers. Instructor Han cleared his throat. "Miss, can I ask where do you intend to rest?"

"On top of Mei Chen’s carriage." The campfire crackled in the ensuing silence.

Worry etched across some of the men’s faces, but none dared question her decision. Xiulan strode to the carriage and climbed the wooden side panels. The surface radiated an unnatural chill that seeped through her clothing.

She crossed her legs and settled into a comfortable position. The forest’s gentle quiet embraced her—a welcome contrast to the suffocating hum of overlapping qi signatures back at Lin Manor that drowned out any chance of focus.

Even with a few guards nearby and the icy knot whirling below her seat, the air felt clear and calm. Her own energy was distinct and sharp, unhindered by the overwhelming presence of others.

Perhaps, Xiulan mused, I should search for one of those hidden mystical locations from the game.

The night air brushed cool against her skin as she closed her eyes and drew steady breaths. A persistent tug pulled at her qi—subtle but constant, like a thread caught on a nail.

She pressed two fingers against her wrist, following the path of energy up her arm. The meridian flowed smoothly until it hit a knot near her elbow.

With precise pressure, she pressed her qi flow there until it released with a satisfying pop. The sensation reminded her of cracking joints after sitting too long at her old retail job.

Her qi pooled in her dantian, a warm sphere of power centered below her navel. From there, channels branched outward like rivers across a map. Some paths matched her memories from Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles —the energetic flow through her heart center and the clear passage through her crown.

She sensed a steady flow of energy extending through the key pathways—the Ren Mai rising along her front, the Du Mai coursing up her spine.

The game had taught her that each cultivator’s network developed uniquely, though certain core pathways remained constant. Understanding the personal variations meant the difference between efficient cultivation and wasted effort.

Xiulan traced each channel methodically, working to learn herself. Body Refinement’s first stage demanded careful preparation. Rushing into strength training or purification techniques without this fundamental knowledge invited disaster. She knew that much, at least.

In the game, players who skipped the step often crippled their cultivation permanently.

Xiulan pulled her wandering thoughts back to center. A slight persistent tug on her qi grew more noticeable as she focused. It flowed in a steady direction. Something about Mei Chen? She snapped her eyes open and leapt from the carriage roof.

A guard startled backwards. "Miss Lin!"

Xiulan waved off his concern and yanked open the carriage door. Frigid air billowed out in visible clouds around her face. The cold bit through her robes as she stepped inside, but she ignored the discomfort and settled onto the seat across from Mei Chen’s still form.

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Cross-legged once more, Xiulan steadied her breathing and sank back into meditation. The pull on her qi intensified—stronger and more insistent than before. A frown creased her brow.

Moving carefully, Xiulan reached beneath the layers of blankets wrapping Mei Chen. She grasped the girl’s icy hand and gently propped her upright on the seat. Their shoulders pressed together as Xiulan resumed her meditation.

The skin contact made a difference. A jolt shocked through her system. Qi surged out of the meridian in her palm, bleeding away like water through a crack. Xiulan’s eyes widened.

Is my qi flowing into Mei Chen?

Xiulan relaxed her grip on the meridian gates, allowing her qi to flow freely. The energy poured through their connected palms like water breaking through a dam. Despite the drain, the reservoir of power in her dantian remained deep and steady.

The carriage’s confined space amplified the hum of flowing qi. Frost patterns on the windows caught moonlight in crystalline fractals. A minute passed as Xiulan monitored the transfer, counting breaths to maintain precise timing.

When it felt like she should stop and assess, she closed the meridian gates and opened her eyes. Disappointment settled in her stomach at Mei Chen’s unchanged state. The young maid remained motionless, skin pale as fresh snow.

A heavy sigh escaped—then Xiulan froze. The air in front of her face remained clear. No cloud of condensation.

Xiulan pressed her free hand against the carriage wall. The wood felt cool rather than bitingly cold. The oppressive chill that had permeated the space dissipated, replaced by merely cool night air.

The negative yin energy... Xiulan studied Mei Chen’s face intently. Had her qi somehow counteracted whatever gripped her friend?

Relief flooded through Xiulan as she studied the warming carriage interior. The supernatural cold that had threatened to turn Mei Chen’s transport into an ice tomb was fully retreating.

At least now they wouldn’t need to explain why their carriage left frost trails once they reached Blackmere City.

Xiulan traced the smooth wood paneling with her fingertips, marveling at how the temperature had normalized. No more terrified servants jumping back from the death-cold touch of the door handle. No more whispered rumors of evil spirits and cursed cargo.

It was surprising at just how much a relief it was to have a reprieve or how those whispers had hurt.

I could keep sharing my qi with her... Xiulan studied Mei Chen’s still face in the moonlight filtering through the window. The possibility of awakening her friend through continued qi transfer tempted her, but uncertainty held her back.

Too much energy might harm rather than heal—like overcharging a delicate device.

"Please get better soon, Mei Chen." Xiulan squeezed the cold hand beneath her palm.

Without proper guidance from a cultivation expert, she dared not risk experimenting further with the mysterious connection between them.

Instead of going back to the carriage roof, she leaned her head on Mei Chen’s blankets and closed her eyes.

Maybe she was insane, sleeping beside what the servants had considered a corpse, but the cold didn’t bother her now.

And maybe her warmth would help her friend, just like the shared qi.

Dawn painted the sky in muted oranges as the convoy prepared to depart. Xiulan adjusted her riding posture atop her horse. The morning air carried a crisp bite that helped clear her head.

The city walls emerged on the horizon well before noon. A mass of people crowded the road leading to the main gate—merchants with loaded carts, farmers hauling produce, and travelers seeking entrance.

The crowd parted before the convoy’s approach, but the heavy wooden gates remained firmly shut.

"Why are the gates closed?" Xiulan projected her voice toward the guards stationed outside. The gleam of their polished armor caught the midday sun.

One guard stepped forward. "By order of the City Magistrate, the gates will remain sealed for one month to honor the passing of our beloved Lord Lin."

"A month?" Instructor Han’s incredulous tone matched Xiulan’s own disbelief.

"These incompetent fools." Xiulan gripped her reins tighter. "The entire city would starve before the month ends." She straightened in her saddle. "Open these gates immediately!"

The guards exchanged uncertain glances. "Apologies, but the City Magistrate’s seal blocks your path."

Xiulan reached into her robe and withdrew the bronze scroll. The metal caught the sunlight, its official seal glinting with authority. A surge of gratitude for her mother’s foresight warmed her chest.

"I am the sister of Lord Lin and the previous lord’s daughter!" The words rang across the crowded street. "I bear an official scroll from the Lady Regent! Open these gates at once!"

The gathered crowd fell silent. Guards whispered among themselves, boots shuffling against stone as they passed messages back and forth. Minutes stretched like hours until a deep groan echoed from the gates. Ancient hinges protested as the heavy wooden doors swung inward.

A guard captain strode forward and bowed. "Lady Lin’s convoy may enter, but according to the City Magistrate’s orders, the common folk must remain—"

"My mother issued no such order." Xiulan cut through his words. "Tell me, Captain. Do you serve House Lin, or does the City Magistrate stand in rebellion against the County Magistrate’s seat?"

The captain’s gaze darted between the spear strapped to Xiulan’s back and her assembled guards. Calculations flickered behind his eyes before he dropped into a deep bow.

"We’ve heard no word of the appointment of a new County Magistrate, but the city’s guard has long been loyal to House Lin. Long live Lord Lin!" The captain’s voice carried across the gathered crowd. "The city gate will remain open."

He lowered his voice so only she and those nearby could hear. "This humble servant suggests the lord’s sister consult with the city’s magistrate to ensure he follows the lord’s will and not his own."

The warning and support were duly noted, and Xiulan saluted the man. "Thank you, Captain."

Xiulan nudged her horse forward, leading the convoy through the massive gates. Another task added to her growing list—first secure the manor house and settle Mei Chen, then deal with the overzealous magistrate.

The convoy rolled through nearly empty streets. An unnatural hush blanketed the city, broken only by the clip-clop of hooves against stone.

Small processions of monks waved incense sticks, their mourning chants echoing off shuttered buildings. Faces peered from behind partially closed doors and windows, disappearing at the convoy’s approach.

"What the hell happened here?" The words escaped before Xiulan could stop them.

Instructor Han guided his horse closer. "News of the massacre must have horrified them."

A cold weight settled in Xiulan’s stomach. She hadn’t considered how the common folk would react to news of her actions. Or the rumors that had spread.

The Lin Family city manor’s imposing gates came into view, offering a brief respite from her dark thoughts.

Instructor Han leaped from his horse and strode to the gate. His fists hammered against the wood. "Open these gates in the name of House Lin!"

But repeated pounding against the thick wood yielded nothing but silence—the gates remained locked tight. Several others joined him in rousing those inside.

"Go away!" A trembling voice called from within. "No one is allowed entry!"

Xiulan swung down from her mount, boots striking the cobblestones. "The sister of Lord Lin demands entry to her family’s home!"

Muffled whispers and shuffling feet sounded from behind the gate, but silence answered her command. The postern gate caught her attention—a smaller door built into the main gate for pedestrian traffic. Though reinforced with iron bands, it presented a more manageable target than the main gates.

"Anyone behind that door needs to clear away. Now!" The qi stirred within her chest as she counted heartbeats. One. Two. Three...

At ten, Xiulan channeled energy through her arms. Her palms struck the door opposite its hinges with explosive force. Wood splintered and metal shrieked as the postern gate burst inward.

She stepped through the wreckage into the courtyard. Instructor Han and her guards rushed in behind her, weapons glinting in the sunlight.

Six house guards huddled near the wall, while servants clutched an assortment of kitchen knives and farming tools.

"Where is the house manager?" Xiulan planted her feet. "Who dares block my path?"

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