Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

In the depths of night, when mortal eyes fail and hearts quaver, true courage manifests not in fearlessness, but in acting despite our fears. The wise warrior knows that hesitation breeds defeat, while decisive action—even at great personal cost—often yields victory.

—Sage Master Chen Feng, Voice of the Four Winds

If this is just the first step, what monsters exist at the peak?

Xiulan flexed idly against her spear, slightly bending the steel shaft while watching the sun paint fading orange streaks across the courtyard. Hours of sparring with Instructor Han had barely produced a single bead of sweat.

The massive gulf between mortal and immortal stretched before her like an endless chasm.

In Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles , each cultivation realm towered above the last—Body Refinement, Qi Gathering, Qi Refinement, Foundation Forming, and Golden Core. The spiritual and deity realms that lay beyond those stages existed in an entirely different dimension of power.

Each step represented not just an improvement, but a fundamental transformation.

Xiulan defeated Han in every exchange, and not because he lacked skill.

His combat experience meant nothing against the raw power coursing through her enhanced body. With his guidance and her focus, the spear moved like an extension of her will rather than a weapon.

The darkening sky signaled the time for action. Xiulan gripped her spear and strode toward the courtyard exit. A dozen armed guards blocked her path, faces set with determination. Han stood at their center.

"No." Xiulan frowned at their presence.

Han dropped into a formal salute. "We stand ready to assist, Miss Lin."

"And leave my mother unprotected?" Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose. "The servants need you here. Mother needs you here."

"But Miss Lin—"

"Enough. I’ll wield your sentiment within my heart." Xiulan brushed past the guards and through the moon gate.

The evening streets were dotted with the occasional merchant closing shop or servant rushing home. Their stares followed her black-robed figure and gleaming spear. Xiulan ducked into narrower alleyways, letting shadows mask her presence as she moved toward her target.

Lanterns blazed across the central sector, casting dancing shadows through the main square. Xiulan pressed against a wall, observing the crowd gathered outside the main hall.

Music and laughter spilled from within, accompanied by the clink of wine cups and the aroma of roasted meats. A celebration dinner. Of course.

Rage burned in Xiulan’s chest. While Mei Chen suffered in captivity, her family feasted and made merry.

The contrast twisted like a knife in her gut.

Xiulan drew several measured breaths, forcing her cultivation-enhanced muscles to relax. The festivities provided perfect cover—the servants and guards focused on the main hall meant fewer eyes watching Madam Zhang’s pavilion.

Moonlight silvered the courtyard walls as Xiulan crept along their perimeter. She located a shadowed alcove between two decorative pillars and coiled her legs beneath her.

The jump cleared the wall with ease, her enhanced strength carrying her well above the barrier. She landed in a perfect crouch atop the narrow stone surface, balanced as precisely as a cat.

Xiulan scanned the empty courtyard below. Paper lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, casting shifting patterns across manicured gardens and ornamental rocks.

Only the main gate was manned. No guards patrolled the grounds—they likely attended the celebration.

A small storage building offered the perfect cover. She dropped silently behind it, pressing close to its wooden walls.

Shadows stretched across the courtyard as Xiulan pressed against the cold stone wall. Each step measured, deliberate, soundless.

A splash echoed from nearby—soft but distinct in the evening silence. She froze, muscles tensed.

Moonlight glinted off a small wooden shed ahead. More splashing sounds drifted through its thin walls, accompanied by the rustle of fabric. Xiulan glided around the structure’s perimeter, keeping to the deepest shadows.

A single servant worked inside, wringing wet clothes into a wooden basin. The knife slid silently from Xiulan’s sleeve. Three swift steps brought her behind the woman. One hand clamped over the servant’s mouth while the other pressed cold steel against her throat.

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"Remain silent and answer my questions truthfully—you’ll walk away unharmed." Xiulan breathed the words directly into the servant’s ear. The woman trembled but managed a slight nod.

"I’ll remove my hand. One scream and this blade finds a new home. Understood?" Another trembling nod. Xiulan slowly withdrew her palm.

"Where are they keeping the captured servant girl?"

"There’s a—a dungeon beneath the main residence." The servant’s whisper quavered. "But guards watch the entrance day and night."

Xiulan shifted her grip, wrapping her arm around the woman’s throat in a precise hold. The servant’s eyes widened in panic, but before she could struggle, pressure on her carotid arteries took effect. Her body went limp within seconds.

Xiulan eased the unconscious form to the ground, arranging her limbs to appear as if she’d simply fallen asleep at her work. The woman would wake with nothing worse than a headache. Hopefully.

Pressing against the shadow of ornamental trees, she crept toward the main residence. Two servants passed nearby, discussing the evening’s festivities. She held perfectly still until their voices faded.

An elevated wooden platform stretched above—a perfect entry point. Her cultivation-enhanced muscles propelled her upward in a silent leap. The worn planks barely creaked under her careful steps.

Lantern light spilled through paper screens, casting moving shadows across the halls. Footsteps echoed from multiple directions. Xiulan slipped between rooms, tracking the sound patterns. The basement entrance had to connect to the main floor somewhere, but where?

More footsteps approached from both ends of the corridor. Xiulan’s pulse quickened. No escape route presented itself. She’d need to—

A door slid open beside her.

"Sister, come in!" Zhang Wei’s urgent whisper cut through her rising panic.

Xiulan dove through the opening. Zhang Wei snapped the door shut just as two sets of footsteps converged outside. She pressed into a darkened corner, barely daring to breathe.

"Young Master, are you alright?" A guard’s voice carried through the thin screen.

"Just studying!" Zhang Wei’s cheerful reply contained no hint of deception. "Father insisted."

The footsteps retreated. Xiulan’s shoulders relaxed as silence returned.

Zhang Wei spun toward her, eyes wide as saucers. "You look like a shadow assassin!"

Xiulan propped her spear against the wall and knelt beside Zhang Wei. She ruffled his messy hair with gentle affection. "I’m on an important mission tonight, little brother."

"Mother confined me to my room as punishment." Zhang Wei slumped against the wall before perking up. "But I can still help! What do you need?"

"Have you seen anyone taken to the dungeon recently?" Xiulan kept her voice steady despite the urgency pulsing through her veins.

Zhang Wei’s eyes stretched wide in the dim light. "I saw them take Mei Chen down there!" His shoulders drooped. "She hasn’t come back out since."

A tense breath escaped Xiulan’s lips. "That’s why I’m here—to bring her home."

Light blazed in Zhang Wei’s eyes as he bounced on his toes. The floorboards creaked beneath his excited movements.

"Where’s the entrance to the dungeon?" Xiulan steadied him with a gentle hand.

"Behind the kitchen storehouse! There’s a hidden door under the rice barrels." Zhang Wei traced the path in the air. "Turn right at the bottom of the stairs, then left at the first torch bracket."

Xiulan absorbed each detail with sharp focus before rising to retrieve her spear. The weapon’s weight settled into her palm.

"What else can I do to help?" Zhang Wei clenched his small fists with determination.

"Stay here and keep quiet." Xiulan gripped his shoulder. "If you hear any commotion, shout for help. Draw as many people to you as possible and demand they protect you."

Zhang Wei’s jaw set with fierce resolve. "I’ll do my best, Sister!"

Xiulan slipped through the darkened corridors, following Zhang Wei’s directions. Two guards blocked the entrance to the storage area, their postures relaxed as they chatted in low voices.

Her qi surged through her muscles. Xiulan launched forward, striking precise points on their necks. She caught their falling bodies to muffle any sound, lowering them gently.

No breath stirred their chests. No pulse thrummed beneath her fingers.

Bile rose in her throat. The cultivation enhancement had made her strikes lethal instead of incapacitating. Blood roared in her ears as her hands trembled.

Mei Chen needs me. The thought steadied her racing pulse. She forced herself to breathe, to focus on the mission ahead.

The heavy rice barrels scraped against the floor as she shifted them aside. A wooden trapdoor emerged from the shadows. Stale air wafted up as she eased it open, carrying the unmistakable stench of decay and human waste.

Darkness swallowed the narrow stone staircase. A single torch flickered at the bottom, casting writhing shadows across damp walls. Each step downward intensified the putrid smell.

Iron bars lined the corridor. The first cell gaped empty, its door hanging askew. Rusted chains dangled from the ceiling like skeletal fingers.

The second cell contained only moldering straw. The third—

Xiulan stumbled to a halt. Official Bo Qin’s mutilated corpse hung suspended from chains, skin peeled away in methodical strips. A crimson pool spread beneath him, trickling toward a central drain. His severed fingers lay arranged on a nearby table amid gleaming tools.

Acid burned the back of her throat. Xiulan spun away, jogging past more empty cells. At the corridor’s end, in the last cell, a small figure huddled in the corner.

"Mei Chen!" Xiulan gripped the cell bars. The metal refused to yield despite her enhanced strength. Frustration and rage boiled.

The bars snapped with a sharp crack at the floor and ceiling.

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