Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

Words paint the soul’s truth in moments of triumph and despair. Listen carefully to what remains unsaid, for there lies the deepest meaning.

—Master Mei Hua, Sage of Ten Thousand Brushstrokes

Xiulan watched the guards carry Lord Chao on a stretcher across the field and into the city. His legs twisted at unnatural angles, yet his face remained a mask of rigid composure.

He spoke only to declare his rank and demand medical attention, along with an audience with the prefect. The sight brought her no satisfaction—just a hollow emptiness.

Her gaze swept the carnage. Bodies littered the ground, but one notable absence gnawed at her thoughts. Bai Chen’s corpse remained unfound among the dead. The implications bothered her through her veins despite Mei Chen’s comforting spiritual presence against her neck.

He knew too much. The only reason she could conclude that he was by Lord Chao’s side was that he had witnessed her actions on the massacre night. That he wanted revenge for his old master who he had served…

Or he was a spy for Lord Chao all along.

We’ll find him, Mei Chen whispered through their bond.

Smoke rose throughout the city where fires still raged. The western half of Blackmere lay in ruins—smashed walls, collapsed buildings, and scorched streets marked the cost of their victory. The damage would take years to fully repair.

A shout drew her attention to the western wall. Zhang Huo heaved massive chunks of stone aside, revealing Wei Kang sprawled protectively over Ming Lihua’s prone form. Both still breathed, though blood stained their robes and spiritual damage radiated from their bodies in waves of disrupted qi.

Wei Kang pushed himself up with trembling arms. He reached down to help Ming, who gripped his forearm. A fierce blush spread across Ming’s face as Wei Kang lifted her into his arms. She pressed against his chest while he carried her toward the spirit stone medical care the Li Brothers were sharing.

Xiulan suppressed a smile. "Mountains and Merchandisers indeed."

They look nice together, Mei Chen observed, her spiritual essence swirling with amusement.

Xiulan turned from the pair. Wei Kang and Ming deserved their private moment without an audience gawking at their budding connection. The sight stirred memories of romance novels she’d read—though this held far more authenticity for her.

Feng Yu stood before Liuhuo. The dawn serpent’s massive towered over her, his scaled length stretching toward the scraps of the destroyed enemy encampment. The logistics of housing him within, or even near, Blackmere’s walls seemed impossible—

Golden light pulsed from Liuhuo’s form. His massive body condensed inward, scales shrinking and reforming until he diminished to the size of a common garden snake. He coiled himself around Feng Yu’s arm.

Xiulan crossed the blood-stained grass to reach them. Liuhuo’s eyes drooped as Feng Yu tugged her sleeve to shelter his now-tiny form.

"The prismatic orb burned out." Feng Yu displayed the dulled crystal in her palm. "A shame to use all its power at once, but worth the cost to save Blackmere, wasn’t it?"

"I’ll keep your aid in mind and find a way to repay this debt." Xiulan bowed her head slightly.

"What debt can there be between sisters?" Feng Yu stepped closer, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned in, warm breath tickling Xiulan’s ear. "But if we’re keeping score, then I’ve already saved you a whole lot!"

The words cracked something inside Xiulan. She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Feng Yu, burying her face against the other girl’s shoulder. The scent of cinnamon enveloped her as tears threatened to spill.

"There, there." Feng Yu rubbed soothing circles across Xiulan’s back.

Mei Chen’s spiritual essence swirled around them in lazy loops, radiating protective warmth.

"I almost gave up." Xiulan’s words caught in her throat. "And the manor—I still don’t know if—"

Feng Yu stepped back and gripped Xiulan’s shoulders firmly. "Ren Chun would have handled any attackers at the manor. Our encounter might not have been entirely positive, but he’s not inherently bad. He seemed invested in protecting them, and he has the skills to back it up."

Xiulan straightened her shoulders and nodded. "I’ll send the Li Brothers as messengers this time."

Feng Yu bobbed her head in agreement.

Xiulan turned toward the bound prisoners. Vines wrapped around their limbs while qi restraints glowed with suppressive energy. "What should we do with them?"

"The mercenaries? We can sell them to the Treasure Pavilion." Feng Yu adjusted Liuhuo’s sleeping form on her arm.

"S-sell?" Xiulan’s mouth went dry. "Like slaves?"

Feng Yu raised an eyebrow at her. "It’ll help recover some costs from hiring the defenders." She brushed a strand of sandy hair from her face. "The Pavilion takes a substantial cut, but it beats managing ransoms and indentures yourself. Politics will consume enough of our time soon."

Not slavery. Just pragmatism. Xiulan’s stomach still twisted, but she forced out the words. "Then we’ll do that."

The next hours blurred together in a haze of activity. They organized rescue parties, posted guards over the prisoners, and helped with rescue efforts. Xiulan searched for her lost captain.

Liu Bao’s crushed body lay exactly where she’d seen him fall in that final cloud of dust and blood. The sight punched the air from her lungs. Without his steady leadership, the city might have collapsed into chaos long before the siege.

"A monument." Xiulan’s words carried across the rubble-strewn street. "We’ll raise one in the central square. For him and all the defenders."

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Too many names to carve. Too many faces she’d condemed.

Her fingernails bit into her palm. Mei Chen’s spiritual essence pulsed against her neck.

As things settled it was time to move the prisoners. Xiulan watched the guards finish securing them. "We need to get Mei Chen back to her body." She glanced at Feng Yu. "And deal with these prisoners."

Ming Lihua strode toward them, her purple robes sporting fresh stitches and patches. She gestured toward Treasure Pavilion. "This way."

Xiulan studied the merchandiser’s stiff movements. "Your injuries—are they serious?"

"I might have lost some cultivation progress." Ming adjusted her silver-pinned bun. "Nothing permanent. With the enemy routed, we can utilize the Pavilion’s resources more openly now."

"Mei Chen needs more body repairs." Xiulan glanced at the spiritual essence coiled around her neck.

Ming’s brows drew together. "Each repair leaves permanent damage. The cracks will spread wider each time—you both must be more careful."

A pulse of concern radiated from Mei Chen’s spiritual form. Xiulan shared the sentiment.

At the Treasure Pavilion, Xiulan was shocked to find the prisoners ushered underground into a mirror of Fershere’s prison. The similarity bothered her. Brother Mo marched the bound cultivators past the iron-barred cells lined with suppression arrays.

A cultivator prison. Right here in Blackmere. The thought of Master Qingfeng possessing such facilities sparked unwelcome scenarios in her mind. How easily she could have ended up behind those bars instead of working with the Pavilion.

A servant promised to tabulate the treasure gained and provide her with a tally of her share once completed. Xiulan nodded numbly and then they followed Ming to the guest house.

Relief flooded through her at the sight of Mei Chen’s physical form laid out on a soft bed in a quiet repose. Ming produced a gleaming repair charm and passed it over the damaged areas. The charm’s light seeped into cracked flesh, smoothing jagged edges.

A servant brought tea. Feng Yu poured three cups of the fragrant osmanthus blend. Xiulan settled onto a cushion, Mei Chen’s orb pulsing contentedly nearby. The warm liquid spread through Xiulan’s chest, washing away the siege’s lingering tension. Ming joined them once the repairs finished, accepting her own steaming cup with a grateful nod.

Silence settled over the room as they sipped their tea. Steam curled up from the delicate cups, carrying the scent through the air. The quiet felt earned after the chaos of battle.

Mei Chen’s spiritual essence began to dart around the low table in agitated swoops. Her blue mist form spun past Ming, then zipped over Feng Yu’s shoulder before swirling around Xiulan’s cup.

"Mei Chen?" Xiulan watched the erratic movements of her friend’s spirit.

The essence pulsed with distress. "I can’t clean or serve properly like this!" Mei Chen’s spiritual form vibrated with anxious energy.

"Should you return to your body?" Xiulan gestured toward the still form on the bed.

Mei Chen’s essence shot upward in sudden realization. She streaked across the room toward her physical shell, diving through the nose. The body’s chest rose slightly as breathing resumed.

"The longer she remains unattached to anything, the more she risks losing herself." Ming set down her teacup with a soft clink.

"While she might unattach from her body..." Feng Yu stroked Liuhuo’s sleeping form. "I don’t think Mei Chen is ever truly unattached."

Ming released a soft chuckle. "That’s not quite what I meant—but you’re right. That connection almost certainly helps focus her. It explains why she remains so coherent as a spirit."

Xiulan crossed to the bed where Mei Chen lay motionless. She placed a gentle hand on Mei Chen’s shoulder and gave a soft squeeze.

Mei Chen’s eyelids fluttered. "Miss?" She blinked drowsily at Xiulan.

"Would you like to join us for tea?"

Life sparked in Mei Chen’s eyes. "Yes!" She pushed herself up on her elbows. "I don’t know how I fell asleep..."

"Apparently that can happen when you return to your body." Xiulan stepped back to give her space. "I didn’t want you to think we were trying to get rid of you."

Mei Chen swung her legs over the bed’s edge and followed Xiulan back to the low table. Feng Yu lifted the delicate porcelain teapot and poured a fourth cup.

Mei accepted it gratefully taking a polite sip.

Feng Yu set the teapot on it’s holder, then leaned forward over her teacup, amber eyes serious. "Your great grandfather supports you and your mother, but Cousin Min faces unexpected complications. Imperial Prince Sheng Hao—the Fifth Prince—has hobbled his efforts. The reinforcements should arrive soon, despite his interference."

Xiulan set down her cup with a sharp clink. "The Fifth Prince?" Worry ran through her chest. "Could he be Lord Chao’s patron?" She pressed her fingers against her temples. "What political mire did Father drag House Lin into?"

Feng Yu adjusted the sleeping Liuhuo on her arm who was about to fall off. He settled for wrapping around her cup. "I am not sure. It looks like my—the prince’s support was not overt or he would have be more forceful rather than simply coming along and demanding treatment."

The slip caught Xiulan’s attention. Her gaze dropped to Feng Yu’s red sash where a small piece of white ivory peeked out, its red tassel swaying against her side.

Xiulan glanced up and their eyes met across the table. Raw fear blazed in those amber depths.

Princess. The realization struck like lightning. Of course she’s a princess. The pieces clicked together—the noble bearing, the mysterious travel pass, the easy path they walked in Fershere. Xiulan wanted to kick herself for missing such obvious signs.

She deliberately shifted her gaze away from Feng Yu’s tense form. "Ming, will this situation cause problems for the Treasure Pavilion?"

The words passed through her lips without registering as her thoughts raced. Feng Yu clearly dreaded discovery. The fear in her sister’s eyes spoke volumes about the weight of her secret.

I can’t hurt her. Like Liuhuo, she can tell me when she’s ready. The decision crystallized instantly in Xiulan’s mind.

Excitement bubbled beneath her careful mask. A princess! Fate finally smiled upon her with this friendship. The path to finding the Phoenix Princess—her ultimate goal—suddenly seemed less impossible. Royal connections could unlock doors previously barred.

Ming’s analytical tone cut through her musings. "The Pavilion should weather this storm without notice. Your greater concern should be the civil damage from this cultivator conflict. The Fifth Prince could censure both House Lin and House Chao for such destruction."

"This region holds little political significance." Feng Yu said. "With Lord Chao captured, negotiating his release should resolve these issues."

The suggestion twisted Xiulan’s stomach. Release Lord Chao? After the devastation he brought to Blackmere? Her mother and brother would never be truly safe. Even if Lin Zhang Wei shared Chao blood—

"Miss." Mei Chen’s soft voice drew her attention. "Everything will be okay. We made it through the worst of it."

Xiulan smiled at her. She hoped it was true.

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