Chapter Four

The master of Flame Dragon Immortal was the Supreme Venerable of Kunlun Mountain, who had been in seclusion for many years and was rumored to be on the verge of ascension at any moment. However, only those within the sect knew the truth: in order to maintain Kunlun’s prestige as the foremost great sect, it was impossible for any of the current Venerables to ascend until a new successor appeared. Otherwise, the current balance of the cultivation world could be disrupted at any time.

When Li Mengze first arrived at Kunlun, she spent her spare time feverishly cramming knowledge about cultivation. The righteous powers in the Azure Water Star Realm were divided into three great sects, forming a tripartite balance. At present, Kunlun held the leading position, boasting seven Venerables in the Tribulation Crossing stage: one at Great Perfection, three in the late stage, one in the middle stage, and two in the early stage.

The Misty Cloud Sect was second, with five Venerables: two in the late stage, one in the middle, and two in the early stage—a considerable gap compared to Kunlun. The Pill Cauldron Sect ranked last, also with five Venerables, all in the middle stage. It was said that any of them might break through at any moment. Should two Venerables from the Pill Cauldron Sect advance to the late stage, Misty Cloud would not merely lose its ranking—several cities under its jurisdiction would likely be annexed by the Pill Cauldron Sect.

Thus, every Tribulation Crossing Venerable was the backbone of their sect and would not ascend lightly.

And these were only the so-called orthodox sects; outside lurked demonic and beast cultivators, all coveting these rich territories. Any change in the balance could spell disaster for a sect.

After coming here, Li Mengze spent the first five years under her parents’ care, feigning childishness with remarkable finesse—a matronly mind in a loli’s body, a predicament both amusing and vexing.

Recently, Li Mengze had been troubled by a strange discovery: after pretending to be a child for five or six years, her own mentality truly seemed to be regressing. Otherwise, how could she allow herself to be held without protest, even enjoying it a little, letting others pat her head and kiss her cheek, sometimes even leaning in for more herself?

The fellow disciples of Sword-Hidden Peak noticed something odd: the junior sister who used to be so close to them had lately stopped appearing. Without her, their only amusement outside cultivation was gone, leaving them quite despondent.

Li Mengze’s cultivation was personally supervised by Master Flame Dragon, Li Yunzhan, who guided her step by step, focusing on building a solid foundation.

The technique she practiced was the Fire God’s Art, one of Kunlun’s top-level methods—intense and powerful, generally unsuited for girls. But during the transmission ceremony, when Li Mengze activated her spiritual energy, the Divine Fire Art flew straight into her embrace, giving her no choice in the matter—a forced fortune.

Her residence had also been carefully chosen by Li Yunzhan, right next to the main hall of Sword-Hidden Peak, close to his own cultivation chamber.

After a month of adjusting, Li Mengze had finally smoothed out her inner energy circulation and could now cultivate on her own.

Sitting cross-legged on a cushion woven from Spirit-Calming Grass, she followed the Fire God’s Art, guiding her spiritual energy through its cycles. Once the energy had been drawn into the body, practice became much simpler, depending only on one’s spiritual affinity.

Li Mengze had a single fire spiritual root, so her affinity was beyond question.

No sooner had she completed a single cycle than she felt an itch on her back. She thought to ignore it, assuming it would pass, but the more she disregarded it, the itchier it became—almost as if the sensation reached her heart. Realizing the danger of distraction during cultivation, even as a novice, she dared not continue.

Being small had its drawbacks: her short limbs simply couldn’t reach her back. No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t scratch the right spot. Helpless, she rummaged through her mysterious storage pouch and produced a welcome gift from some Immortal—a wand resembling that of a little fairy—and touched it to the itchy spot.

To her surprise, the fairy wand seemed to stick to that area, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t pull it away.

Usually quite bold, Li Mengze now felt a twinge of fear. Was this a haunted cultivator world? (Of course it was—where else would the ghost cultivators come from?)

She dared not call for help, not having figured out the situation yet—it would be embarrassing if it turned out to be nothing. She might be small, but her mind was mature.

Fortunately, her cave dwelling had a floor-length mirror prepared by Li Yunzhan, mindful of his little niece’s fondness for beauty—thoughtful indeed.

Cultivation robes in this world were easy to put on and take off. Facing away from the mirror, she willed her clothes at the shoulders to vanish, transforming her garment into a backless dress.

A water mirror formed in front of her, and Li Mengze carefully examined her back. Her little mouth formed a perfect “O”—wasn’t that the Taiji Jade Pendant she’d coveted back on Earth? How had it appeared on her back?

As she realized what it was, the fairy wand lost all strength and fell to the floor.

Li Mengze picked it up. After all, any gift presented to her would have come from at least a Core Formation cultivator; it couldn’t be anything ordinary. The wand, though it seemed little more than a pretty trinket to please a girl, was actually inscribed with two arrays—one illusory, one lethal—both self-activating and powered by embedded mid-grade spirit stones, said to last three months. Now, in her hand, it was nothing but an ordinary object, entirely depleted of spiritual energy.

Turning back to her reflection, she saw the Jade Pendant glowing faintly, as if imbued with life. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she seemed to hear a childish voice in her mind, repeating, “Hungry, hungry,” in the lisping tone of a toddler.

Li Mengze pondered, recalling from her previous life the stories her nanny used to read—wasn’t this the moment to rejoice? Could this Jade Pendant be a treasure, perhaps a legendary portable space?

She tentatively asked in her mind, “Who are you?” The milky voice replied, “Who?”

“Are you the Jade Pendant on my back? Did you come with me?”

“Jade Pendant, come with? Hungry, hungry.”

Fine, Li Mengze gave up hope. She shouldn’t entrust her fate to a being that hadn’t even weaned. Still, whether it was the Jade Pendant or not, it was worth a try.

She took her storage pouch, turned it upside down, and dumped its contents onto the floor.

She picked through her things, finally choosing a tiny porcelain bottle and pouring out a pale green pill. It pained her. Although she was a legitimate scion of a great clan, she’d inherited a frugal streak from her past life—a little bit stingy.

She stretched her arm as far as she could, sighing in frustration—her little limbs simply couldn’t reach her plump, round back.

After trying every method to no avail, Li Mengze shook her head, accidentally bumping it against the mirror behind her—a testament to her own exasperation.

Although she had only just drawn spiritual energy into her body and couldn’t yet use even minor spells like Object Control, it didn’t mean she had no way to make a pill float.

Harnessing the energy in the air, she guided a tiny Fasting Pill to the center of the Jade Pendant on her back. As soon as it touched, the pill vanished, and the constant cries of “hungry, hungry” in her mind fell silent—if only for a moment.

Even that brief respite confirmed for Li Mengze that the hungry little voice belonged to the Jade Pendant.

She tried again: “Can you move from my back to the front?” To make herself clear, she added, “Just move to a flatter spot than where you are now.”

Li Mengze distinctly felt something alive shifting beneath her skin. Even knowing what it was, she couldn’t help but shudder; it was a truly creepy sensation.

Fortunately, though it kept demanding food, it moved quickly. After shifting to the front, it seemed to compare the flattest areas, moving between her belly and chest before finally settling, with unwavering determination, on her chest. Li Mengze was speechless—what an insult to a woman, for the chest to be deemed flatter than the abdomen.

Once it stopped moving, she tried again: “What are you?” A question as basic as asking a one-year-old their father’s name—hopeless.

No matter how she asked, the only reply was “hungry.” Was this thing a glutton?

After agonizing over the cost, Li Mengze produced a bottle of Spirit-Restoring Pills, intent on feeding it until it was full to see what it would do.

Luckily, perhaps because it was still in its infancy, the thing didn’t eat much. Of the ten pills in the bottle, it only consumed four before falling silent.

But now, no matter what Li Mengze said, it gave no response at all. Apparently, it was a freeloader—eat and run.

She could only grit her teeth in frustration and continue to figure things out on her own.

First, she tried a blood recognition ritual—no response. Then she pressed her hand to her chest and infused it with spiritual energy; this time, there was a reaction, but her newly gathered energy was too little to activate it.

And so, her exploration continued.