The dust of Yueyang City faded behind Wang Jian, swallowed by the vast, untamed wilderness that stretched towards the brooding Serpent’s Spine mountains. His pack felt light, but his mind was heavy with meticulously organized plans. The city had been a necessary first step, a place to gather whispers and shadows of the cultivator world. Now, it was time to chase those shadows into the wild.

‘The Seven Stars Pavilion… their tendrils reach into the mountains. That’s the next thread to pull.’

He didn’t head directly for their disguised compound in Yueyang. That was their fortress. He sought their outposts, the smaller ganglia of their network closer to the source of their wares – the perilous mountain range.

His newly acquired maps, courtesy of the unfortunate hunters, guided him towards a rough trading post called ‘Dragon’s Tooth Market’, nestled in a valley at the very edge of the Serpent’s Spine foothills. It was a place where desperate herb gatherers, rugged miners, and furtive merchants converged to trade illicit goods and dangerous knowledge.

The journey took him several days, through rugged terrain and increasingly dense forests. His body, honed by a month of relentless tempering, moved with an efficiency that belied its mortal nature. He avoided patrols, skirted bandit camps he sensed with uncanny accuracy, and lived off the land when necessary, his past life’s survival skills surfacing instinctively.

Dragon’s Tooth Market was less a market and more a sprawling, muddy shantytown clinging to the mountainside. Crude wooden stalls, smoke-filled tents, and a few surprisingly sturdy stone buildings formed a chaotic labyrinth. The air was thick with the scent of unfamiliar herbs, roasting meat, unwashed bodies, and a faint, metallic tang he couldn’t quite place.

Men with hard eyes and weapons worn openly eyed him as he entered, but his simple, unassuming attire and the calm confidence in his stride seemed to deter immediate trouble. He looked like a youth trying his luck, perhaps too naive for his own good – a perception he was happy to cultivate.

He spent the first day observing, listening. He located the largest, most well-guarded stone building, a sign depicting seven stylized stars hanging above its heavy wooden door. This was undoubtedly the local branch of the Seven Stars Pavilion.

‘Now, how to make an entrance without being an obvious target or a dismissed peasant?’

He had the Sunscar Fungus, acquired from Ma Liu. It was supposedly rare. That was his key.

The next morning, he approached the Pavilion’s gate. Two guards, their faces impassive and their eyes sharp, blocked his way. They wore dark, practical leather armor, and their short swords looked well-used.

“State your business,” one said, his voice flat.

“I have something of interest for the Pavilion Masters,” Wang Jian replied calmly, meeting the guard’s gaze without flinching. “A rare herb, gathered from deep within the Serpent’s Spine.”

The guards exchanged a skeptical look. “Many claim such things, boy. The Pavilion only deals in quality.”

Wang Jian slowly reached into his pack and produced the small pouch containing the Sunscar Fungus. He opened it just enough for the guards to glimpse the dried, faintly glowing specimen.

The guards’ eyes widened slightly. They recognized quality when they saw it, or at least, they recognized something unusual enough to warrant further inspection.

“Wait here,” the first guard grunted, then disappeared inside.

Minutes later, he returned with a thin, middle-aged man dressed in dark green robes. The man had a calculating look in his eyes and a perpetual frown etched on his face. This was Supervisor Lin, the man in charge of Dragon’s Tooth Market’s Pavilion branch.

Supervisor Lin appraised Wang Jian coolly. “You claim to have a rare herb?”

Wang Jian presented the Sunscar Fungus. Lin took it, examining it closely, sniffing it, even tasting a tiny crumb. His frown deepened, then smoothed out into an expression of cautious interest.

“Sunscar Fungus,” Lin stated, his voice betraying a hint of surprise. “Potent. And relatively fresh. Where did a youth like you acquire this?”

‘The test begins.’

“The mountains are generous to those who are brave and observant, Supervisor Lin,” Wang Jian replied vaguely, offering a slight, respectful bow.

Lin grunted. “Brave or foolish. The deep paths are not for lone travelers.” He handed the fungus back. “The Pavilion might be interested. What is your price?”

Wang Jian feigned consideration. “I seek not just coin, Supervisor. I seek… knowledge. Information about other rare herbs, perhaps even passages deeper into the mountains, places where such treasures grow.”

Supervisor Lin’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t the usual desperate herb gatherer. This youth was… different. Composed. Ambitious.

‘He’s testing me, trying to gauge my worth, my connections.’

“Information is valuable, boy. More valuable than a single fungus, however potent.”

“Perhaps,” Wang Jian conceded. “But I am a reliable supplier. This is but a sample of what I can acquire, given the right… incentives.” He met Lin’s gaze directly. “I am also discreet.”

A silent negotiation passed between them. Lin was weighing the risk versus the potential reward. A new, skilled, and seemingly fearless gatherer could be a valuable asset.

“Come inside,” Lin said finally, turning towards the door. “We can discuss this further.”

Wang Jian followed him into the Pavilion. The interior was surprisingly well-appointed, a stark contrast to the market’s squalor. Private rooms, shelves lined with carefully labeled jars, and the faint scent of powerful medicinal ingredients filled the air.

Over the next few weeks, Wang Jian established a cautious relationship with Supervisor Lin and the Seven Stars Pavilion. He ‘supplied’ them with a few more ‘rare’ herbs – items he’d identified from Old Fang’s books and found with relative ease using his superior tracking skills and the hunters’ maps, making them seem like difficult acquisitions. He always negotiated for information as part of his payment.

He learned more about the Pavilion’s operations, their network of suppliers and clients. He confirmed they dealt with reclusive cultivators and powerful, hidden martial sects. He also learned that the Pavilion sometimes acted as a discreet channel for messages and goods between these hidden entities and certain powerful mortal factions, including, occasionally, the Imperial Family of the State of Yue.

‘The Imperial Family… connected to cultivators?’ This was an interesting thread.

One evening, while sharing some potent wine with Supervisor Lin after a particularly ‘successful’ transaction (Wang Jian had ‘miraculously’ found a patch of coveted Moonpetal Dewdrops), Lin became unusually talkative.

“You know, young Wang,” Lin slurred slightly, his usual caution loosened by the alcohol, “this Moonpetal Dewdrop… very valuable. Especially to certain… noble ladies. They say it enhances… complexion. Keeps the skin youthful.” He winked.

“Noble ladies?” Wang Jian prompted casually.

Lin leaned closer. “The highest of the high, boy. Even… even from the Imperial City. Rumor has it, the beloved Third Princess Yue Lingshan herself is a connoisseur of such… beauty enhancers.”

‘Princess Yue Lingshan…’ Wang Jian filed the name away. ‘Beloved. A connoisseur. Interesting.’

“She must be very beautiful,” Wang Jian commented, feigning mild interest.

Lin chuckled, a wheezing sound. “Beautiful? Boy, she’s a celestial fairy descended to the mortal realm! The Pearl of Yue! Every young noble in the capital dreams of catching her eye. But she’s… discerning. And heavily guarded, of course.”

He took another deep swig of wine. “And powerful. Not just her beauty. Her mother was from… a special family. Connections, you see. Deep connections.” He tapped the side of his nose knowingly.

“Connections to… cultivators?” Wang Jian asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Lin looked around, then lowered his voice further, though the wine was clearly making him reckless. “Not just any cultivators, boy. The Imperial Family of Yue… they have backers. A powerful sect. So powerful, they rarely show their faces in the mortal world. The Mystic Peak Sect.”

‘Mystic Peak Sect!’ Wang Jian’s mind seized on the name. ‘Not one of the legendary mountain sects, then. Closer to the seat of mortal power. More accessible, perhaps, if one knew the right path.’

“The Mystic Peak Sect,” Lin continued, oblivious to Wang Jian’s inner excitement. “They say they reside on a hidden mountain estate, not far from the Imperial Capital, Sky-Dragon City. They protect the Yue lineage, ensure its prosperity. In return… the Imperial Family offers them tribute. Resources. And sometimes… talent.”

“Talent?”

“Every five years,” Lin whispered, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of sharing a secret, “the Imperial Family is granted an audience. A special assembly. They present their most promising young members – princes, princesses, gifted youths from loyal noble families. The cultivators from Mystic Peak Sect observe them. Sometimes… they choose one or two. Take them away to learn the immortal path.”

Wang Jian’s mind raced. This was it. A direct, albeit narrow, path to cultivators. The quinquennial assembly. Presenting talent.

“When is this… assembly?” Wang Jian asked, trying to sound merely curious.

Lin hiccuped. “Soon, I hear. Very soon. Within the next few months, perhaps. The capital is abuzz with preparations. Nobles scrambling to get their children noticed. Princess Lingshan herself… she’s of an age. Many say she’s a prime candidate.”

‘Princess Yue Lingshan… a prime candidate for the Mystic Peak Sect. And the assembly is soon.’

A plan began to form in Wang Jian’s mind, audacious and ruthless. He needed to get to Sky-Dragon City. He needed to get close to Princess Yue Lingshan. And he needed an opportunity.

Supervisor Lin, thoroughly drunk, soon passed out. Wang Jian calmly relieved him of a pouch of silver and a few interesting, sealed herb packets before departing the Pavilion. Lin would wake with a headache and a vague memory of a profitable evening, never suspecting how much crucial information he’d divulged.

Wang Jian left Dragon’s Tooth Market the next day, his destination clear: Sky-Dragon City, the Imperial Capital of the State of Yue.

The journey was longer, taking him through more populated regions, bustling towns, and well-maintained roads. He sold the herbs acquired from Lin in various towns along the way, amassing a decent sum of silver, enough for travel and establishing himself in the capital.

Sky-Dragon City was magnificent. Far grander than even Yueyang. Soaring walls, vast districts, palaces with golden roofs gleaming in the sun, and a palpable aura of power and prosperity. The Imperial Palace itself was a city within a city, heavily guarded.

Wang Jian found modest lodging and began his reconnaissance. Princess Yue Lingshan. How to get close to the most beautiful, most guarded, and potentially most important woman in the state?

He learned she was known for her piety, often visiting the Grand Temple of the Celestial Maiden on the city’s outskirts for prayer and meditation. She also had a fondness for quiet gardens and scholarly pursuits, sometimes venturing, with a small retinue, to view rare blossoms or attend private poetry readings.

‘Piety and scholarly pursuits… a romantic soul, perhaps? Easily swayed by charm and a touch of heroism?’

The plan solidified. He wouldn’t just ‘meet’ her. He would ‘save’ her. Create a situation of perceived danger, then emerge as her valiant rescuer. A classic, but often effective, approach, especially with sheltered nobility.

He needed a threat. Bandits were too crude for the Imperial Capital. A ‘wild beast’ attack near a secluded garden? Possible, but orchestrating it would be complex. An ‘accident’?

His gaze fell upon a group of arrogant young nobles, swaggering through a marketplace, their servants clearing a path. They were infamous for their recklessness, their drunken brawls, and their disregard for commoners.

‘Perfect. Unpredictable, prone to violence, and easily manipulated or provoked.’

He spent days observing the routines of Princess Lingshan and the movements of these troublesome young nobles. He found his opportunity: the Princess was scheduled to visit the Secluded Orchid Garden, a private estate on the city’s edge known for its rare blooms, a place she favored for quiet contemplation. One of the noble groups, led by a particularly boorish young lord named Wei Kang, was known to frequent a nearby gambling den and often returned, drunk and belligerent, along a path that intersected with the road to the Orchid Garden.

The stage was set.

On the appointed day, Wang Jian positioned himself near the intersection. He subtly ‘encouraged’ Wei Kang’s group, already deep in their cups after a morning of gambling, towards the intersecting path just as Princess Lingshan’s modest carriage, accompanied by only a few guards, approached.

He then, with a well-aimed pebble from the shadows, spooked one of Wei Kang’s horses.

Chaos erupted.

The spooked horse reared, crashing into another, sending riders tumbling. Wei Kang, enraged and drunk, immediately blamed the nearest targets – Princess Lingshan’s small retinue, who had stopped, startled by the commotion.

“You peasants! Did you see what you did to my prize stallion?!” Wei Kang roared, drawing his decorative but still sharp sword, his companions, equally drunk and spoiling for a fight, following suit.

The Princess’s guards, though outnumbered, drew their weapons, forming a protective circle around the carriage. “Lord Wei! This is an accident! We meant no disrespect to you!” their captain tried to reason.

“Princess?” Wei Kang sneered, his bloodshot eyes landing on the carriage. “What princess skulks about with so few guards? Likely some merchant’s daughter pretending! Seize them! Teach them a lesson!”

It was the perfect manufactured crisis.

Just as Wei Kang’s men lunged, Wang Jian burst from the side alley, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He moved with a speed and precision that stunned everyone.

“Unhand the lady!” he shouted, his voice ringing with righteous fury. He didn’t use flashy techniques, just brutal, efficient mortal combat honed to a razor’s edge.

He disarmed one of Wei Kang’s men with a swift blow to the wrist, spun, and used the man as a shield against another. A kick sent a third sprawling. He moved like a whirlwind, his attacks disabling, not lethal, but utterly decisive.

In moments, Wei Kang’s drunken thugs were groaning on the ground, disarmed and nursing bruises. Wei Kang himself, shocked sober by the sudden, effective intervention, found the tip of his own sword pressed against his throat, held by this surprisingly formidable stranger.

“You will apologize to the lady and her retinue,” Wang Jian stated, his voice cold. “And then you will depart. Immediately.”

Wei Kang, faced with cold steel and colder eyes, swallowed his bluster. “Apologies… apologies! A misunderstanding!” He scrambled back as Wang Jian lowered the sword, then beat a hasty retreat with his groaning companions.

Wang Jian turned towards the carriage. The door opened, and Princess Yue Lingshan stepped out.

She was, indeed, breathtaking. Her beauty was ethereal, with delicate features, skin like polished jade, and eyes that seemed to hold the depth of a clear spring sky. She wore simple but elegant robes of pale green silk, her dark hair adorned with a single jade pin. She looked at Wang Jian, her initial fear replaced by gratitude and a dawning curiosity.

“Kind sir,” she said, her voice soft and melodic. “You have my deepest gratitude. You saved us from a most unpleasant situation.”

Wang Jian offered a respectful bow, his expression carefully crafted to show humility and concern. “It was nothing, Your Highness. I could not stand by and see such ruffians harass innocent people.”

Her eyes lingered on him. He was handsome, in a rugged, unassuming way. And his skill… it was remarkable for a commoner.

“You fought bravely,” she said. “May I know the name of my rescuer?”

“My name is Wang Jian, Your Highness. Just a humble traveler.”

‘Humble traveler who just happens to be a master martial artist,’ she thought, intrigued. ‘And rather easy on the eyes.’

“Wang Jian,” she repeated, the name feeling pleasant on her tongue. “You are too modest. You acted with great courage. Please, allow me to offer you some reward. My father, the Emperor, would surely wish to thank you personally.”

‘Perfect. An invitation to the Imperial circle, facilitated by the Princess herself.’

Wang Jian feigned reluctance. “Your Highness is too kind. Protecting the innocent is its own reward. I seek nothing more.”

His ‘humility’ only impressed her further. “Nonsense. Such valor cannot go unacknowledged. Please, at least allow me to escort you to the city. We can speak further. I insist.”

Wang Jian ‘hesitated’ for a moment, then nodded. “If Your Highness insists… it would be my honor.”

He walked beside her carriage as it made its way back towards the city, engaging her in polite conversation. He spoke of his (fabricated) travels, his (exaggerated) encounters with injustice, his (feigned) desire to see the good in the world. He was charming, respectful, and subtly heroic.

Princess Lingshan found herself increasingly drawn to him. He wasn’t like the fawning nobles or the stoic guards she was used to. There was a quiet strength about him, a depth in his eyes that hinted at experiences beyond his apparent youth.

Over the next few days, Wang Jian became a frequent, if discreet, visitor to the Princess’s outer circles. She sought his company, ostensibly to thank him further, but also, she admitted to herself, because she enjoyed his presence. He told her stories, listened to her concerns about the upcoming assembly for the Mystic Peak Sect (a topic he subtly guided her towards), and offered surprisingly insightful perspectives.

He learned more about the assembly – the pressure on the royal children, the intense scrutiny from the cultivators, the slim chance of being chosen. Lingshan herself was both hopeful and apprehensive.

Wang Jian played his part perfectly: the supportive friend, the wise confidant, the brave protector. He made her feel safe, understood, and admired. He didn’t push, didn’t make any overt advances, letting her feelings for him grow organically, or so she thought.

A couple of weeks passed. The date of the Mystic Peak Sect’s assembly drew closer. Lingshan’s anxiety grew, and she leaned more heavily on Wang Jian for emotional support.

One evening, they were walking in a secluded palace garden, under the light of a full moon. Lingshan was expressing her fears about the assembly.

“I don’t know if I’m good enough, Jian,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “The cultivators… they expect so much. What if I fail?”

Wang Jian stopped, gently taking her hands. “You won’t fail, Lingshan,” he said softly, using her given name for the first time, a subtle shift in intimacy. “You are talented, beautiful, and possess a kind heart. They would be fools not to see your worth.”

He looked into her eyes, his gaze warm and intense. “But even if they don’t… it doesn’t diminish who you are.”

She looked up at him, her heart fluttering. The moonlight caught his features, making him look almost… ethereal. He was so strong, so confident, so different.

“Jian…” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

He leaned closer. “Lingshan,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across her lips. “You are extraordinary.”

The air crackled with unspoken emotion. Lingshan felt a pull towards him, a desire she hadn’t acknowledged until this very moment. It felt… fast. Too fast? She was a princess, he a commoner she’d only known for weeks. Her mind screamed caution. This was improper. Rushed.

‘Should I? Is this right? It feels… so sudden.’ Her cheeks flushed, a mixture of shyness and confusion swirling within her.

But as Wang Jian’s lips brushed hers, a soft, tentative touch that sent shivers down her spine, her rational thoughts dissolved. The kiss was gentle at first, then deepened, becoming more passionate, more demanding.

Her mind went blank. All she felt was the warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms as he pulled her closer, the intoxicating scent of him. This felt… right. More right than anything she had ever experienced with the cold, calculating nobles who vied for her attention.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless, her eyes wide and dazed.

“Jian…”

He smiled, a slow, possessive smile that sent another thrill through her. “Lingshan,” he whispered. “Tonight… let me show you how truly extraordinary you are. Let me help you… forget your worries.”

He led her, unresisting, towards a secluded pavilion within the garden. The moonlight streamed through the open archways, illuminating a scene of intimate possibility.

Her heart pounded. This was happening. She was about to give herself to this mysterious, captivating man. It was impulsive, reckless, against all propriety.

‘He saved me. He understands me. He makes me feel… alive.’ The justifications whispered through her mind, battling her ingrained sense of duty.

Wang Jian sensed her lingering hesitation, the slight tremor in her hands. He leaned in again, his lips finding hers once more, this time with a passion that swept away her remaining doubts.

She moaned softly, surrendering to the kiss, to the moment, to him.

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, towards a plush divan bathed in moonlight. He laid her down gently, his eyes never leaving hers, burning with an intensity that made her breath catch.

He began to slowly, reverently, undress her, his touch sending waves of exquisite sensation through her body. She shivered, not from cold, but from anticipation, from a desire she was only now beginning to understand.

‘This is… truly happening.’

The night was long, filled with whispers, moans, and the rhythmic symphony of bodies moving in passionate union. Wang Jian was a masterful lover, tender yet demanding, awakening senses Lingshan never knew she possessed. He showed her pleasures beyond her wildest imaginings, making her body sing, making her forget everything but the intoxicating sensations he created.

She cried out his name, again and again, her earlier shyness and confusion replaced by a raw, uninhibited passion. She felt cherished, desired, completely owned. He was her savior, her confidant, and now, her lover.

As dawn approached, they lay entangled, sated and exhausted. Lingshan nestled against Wang Jian’s chest, feeling a sense of contentment she had never known.

‘He is… incredible,’ she thought, a soft smile on her lips. ‘Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t just a fleeting passion. Perhaps this is… destiny.’

Wang Jian held her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He had secured his path. Princess Yue Lingshan was his. And through her, the Mystic Peak Sect, and the world of cultivators, was now within his reach. The ‘humble traveler’ had woven his first significant thread in the Primal Universe.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep