Night had fallen.
Li Qingqiu stepped out of the mining pit and looked up at the night sky. The stars shimmered brightly, and the calm beauty of the night eased his mind.
He started walking forward, determined to uncover the mysterious presence Jiang Zhaoxia had mentioned. This was the spiritual mine—one of Qingxiao Sect's most vital assets, second only to the Thousand Spirits Blessed Land. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong here.
'If the sixth layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm couldn't handle it,' he thought, 'then it's time for someone at the seventh layer to step in.'
With that, he pushed off the mountain wall, moving as effortlessly as walking on flat ground. In moments, he reached the cliffside and leapt into the forest below.
Waiting idly would get him nowhere. He decided to sweep the entire 100-li radius in a full search pattern. According to Jiang Zhaoxia, the sense of being watched only appeared at night—so he had waited until now to investigate.
The mountain forest at night echoed with croaking frogs and chirping insects. Occasionally, the sharp cry of wild birds pierced the darkness, adding an eerie chill to the dense woods.
Li Qingqiu's eyes glowed faintly with purple light. Ever since stepping onto the path of cultivation, he could see clearly in the dark. Not only that, he could even make out the tiny insects resting on the leaves and flowers along his path.
Whoever—or whatever—had eluded Jiang Zhaoxia couldn't be an ordinary martial artist. Either it was another cultivator, or something beyond human sight—a ghost.
The first seemed unlikely. Although Li Qingqiu had acquired two magical artifacts proving that cultivators once existed on this land, they had long since vanished. If one still remained, they would never have ignored such a rich spiritual mine, nor allowed Qingxiao Sect to thrive unchallenged.
Which left only one possibility: a ghost.
But if it hadn't attacked Jiang Zhaoxia despite being pursued, then it probably wasn't very powerful—perhaps not even capable of fighting back.
Still, Li Qingqiu searched for two full hours, and nothing appeared.
He was about to give up when he stopped near a small stream. His gaze shifted, and his eyes narrowed sharply.
Upstream, beside a patch of grass, a naked boy was crouching by the water. His tangled hair hung to his shoulders, and one of his hands idly swirled in the stream—but the water didn't ripple at all.
'A ghost, then.'
Since learning the Soul-Binding Curse, Li Qingqiu could perceive spirits. He'd seen the souls of those he'd slain linger near their corpses, wandering aimlessly for seven days before fading into nothingness.
Those ghosts had no memory of life. Even when they saw him—the man who had killed them—they showed no emotion and never came near.
The separation between yin and yang wasn't just a saying. The living couldn't see the dead, and ordinary ghosts couldn't perceive the living.
But this one clearly wasn't ordinary.
The child seemed to sense Li Qingqiu's gaze. He turned his head, and moonlight filtering through the trees revealed his face.
What a beautiful child.
That was Li Qingqiu's first thought. The boy looked about the same age as Yuan Li or Zhao Zhen, his features delicate and finely shaped. His large eyes were bright as water, and his pale skin almost seemed to glow—so fragile it stirred pity.
For a few heartbeats, man and ghost simply stared at each other. Then, the boy's face twisted. His eyes went blood-red, transforming his innocent expression into one of savage fury.
With a guttural snarl, he lunged forward on all fours like a wild beast, his movements so fast they blurred through the air. In an instant, he was upon Li Qingqiu.
Li Qingqiu raised his hand, catching the ghost by the throat mid-charge and lifting him effortlessly into the air. His stance didn't waver in the slightest.
From the moment he'd seen the boy, he had silently activated the Soul-Binding Curse. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to touch a spirit at all. His right hand glowed with a silver-blue light, vital energy swirling around it.
Even with his throat gripped, the ghost showed no fear. Its feral snarl deepened as it clawed wildly at him, its nails sharp as blades—but every strike passed harmlessly through his arm, never touching flesh.
Li Qingqiu began chanting softly. For a wild ghost like this, there was no method of release—only binding and subjugation.
As the incantation took effect, the boy screamed, the sound piercing and shrill enough to make Li Qingqiu's brow crease.
It was his first time taming a ghost. He was far from skilled and could only follow the incantation and heart method word for word.
Through the binding ritual, a faint spiritual connection formed between them. Memories began to pour into Li Qingqiu's mind.
His expression darkened. No wonder this ghost was so feral—its life had been nothing but torment.
But he didn't stop the chant. For a living soul, the Soul-Binding Curse was cruel. Yet for a wild ghost like this, it might actually be mercy.
Letting it wander freely would only endanger Qingxiao Sect later.
In the ghost's fragmented memories, Li Qingqiu saw scenes of horror.
From as early as he could remember, the boy had been locked inside a massive underground pit connected to countless dungeons. Other orphans were imprisoned with him. Every day, they were submerged in enormous vats filled with boiling medicinal fluid, screaming in agony as masked caretakers shoved them back under whenever they tried to escape.
Outside of that, they were routinely beaten—under the pretense of "training their bodies."
Those hellish days lasted for three to four years.
Then one day, a man broke into the dungeon and began rescuing the orphans. He inspected each child's right arm, one after another, until his trembling hands found the boy.
"Son, Father's here!"
The hoarse, tearful voice echoing in the memory struck Li Qingqiu with a strange familiarity—distant, yet somehow recognizable.
The man carried the boy as he fought his way out. Unable to save all the children, he led them as far as the forest, then ran with his son in his arms.
The masked men pursued them for an entire month, wounding them again and again.
By the time they reached the Taikun Mountain Range, the boy's strength had finally run out.
"Chuan'er, hold on a little longer. Once we reach the sect, Father will use the secret medicine your Grandmaster left behind to heal you."
"When you meet your senior brother, you'll be happy. He'll like you too, and he'll take good care of you."
"Chuan'er, what do you like to eat? Your senior brother loves roasted eggs. Do you want to try some?"
"Chuan'er…"
That night, beneath pouring rain, the boy named Lin Chuan died in his father's arms. At the moment of his death, his heart was filled with hatred.
Hatred for this cruel world. Hatred for those who had tortured him. Hatred even for his father—who had come too late. And hatred for the "senior brother" his father spoke of, believing that brother had stolen the life that should have been his.
Li Qingqiu looked at the ghost child in his hand, his expression complex and heavy.
This little ghost's father was none other than his own master—Lin Xunfeng.
No wonder the child lingered in this area. Lin Xunfeng must have buried him here and never brought him back to Qingxiao Sect.
In that moment, Li Qingqiu finally understood why his master had always gone down the mountain so often. It wasn't simply to right wrongs or act as a hero—it was because he was searching for his lost son. Perhaps, when he took his disciples up the mountain, it was because he couldn't bear the guilt or pain of losing his child.
He also recognized the people who had imprisoned Lin Chuan.
The Demonic Sect.
The masks worn by those who had tortured the boy were the same as the ones worn by the Seven Fiends of the Demonic Sect and the former Guardian, Xu Polu.
The emperor's greed had brought suffering upon countless children. Li Qingqiu had been caught up in the same chaos, and Lin Chuan had paid the ultimate price. If these atrocities had happened once, there were surely still thousands of children suffering somewhere in the empire.
Was Master's obsession with seeking immortality because he had lost faith in the mortal world?
Li Qingqiu realized that he had never truly understood his master. Lin Xunfeng had always appeared carefree, but the pain he carried inside must have been unbearable.
Thinking of this, Li Qingqiu felt a deep ache in his chest. Perhaps it was time he carried a share of his master's burden—not for glory or revenge, but simply to repay the man who had saved and raised him.
...
After resolving the haunting at the spiritual mine, Li Qingqiu returned to Qingxiao Mountain. Along the way, he pointed out the surrounding scenery and muttered softly to himself. The disciples who saw him found it strange but didn't dare ask questions.
None of them could see that a ghost child sat on his shoulder—it was Lin Chuan.
Now that he had become Li Qingqiu's spirit servant, Lin Chuan's violent aura had faded. His mind had cleared, and he now viewed Li Qingqiu with reverence, accepting him as his master. Though bound and without freedom, he was no longer a feral, wrathful ghost.
Li Qingqiu never hid his identity from him. Once Lin Chuan learned about Li Qingqiu's connection to Lin Xunfeng, their bond deepened quickly.
"You can wander freely on the mountain," Li Qingqiu said with a smile. "Just don't go near the living. If you need anything, just tell me."
He didn't treat Lin Chuan as a servant but as a true junior brother.
Lin Chuan looked around curiously, his large eyes blinking as he took in every detail.
Suddenly, he pointed toward the martial arena. "Senior Brother… what are they doing?"
"They're sparring," Li Qingqiu explained. "Not real fighting—just training to improve their skills."
Lin Chuan lowered his gaze and said softly, "Senior Brother… I don't want to just play. I want to learn martial arts too." His voice was small but firm.
"Alright," Li Qingqiu said with a grin. "I'll teach you myself."
He had already planned to guide Lin Chuan in cultivation. If the boy could one day ascend to become a Ghost Immortal, that would be a path of salvation in itself.
When Lin Chuan heard his promise, he broke into a radiant smile, pure and joyful.
As they neared the mountain gate, a golden prompt suddenly flashed before Li Qingqiu's eyes:
[ Because your Dao Lineage has officially entered the Five Great Sects of Guzhou and gained widespread fame, Qingxiao Sect has entered a new stage of development. You have received 1 Dao Lineage Inheritance Reward. ]
Li Qingqiu raised his eyebrows.
"Five Great Sects?" he muttered. "Which two are missing?"
Apparently, something had happened during the trip to the White Emperor Mansion.
He didn't dwell on it. He would know once Xu Ning and Yang Jueding returned.
...
Half a month later, Yang Jueding, Xu Ning, and their five disciples finally came back—none of them injured.
Inside the Lingxiao Courtyard, Li Qingqiu, Zhang Yuchun, Li Dongyue, Li Sifeng, Li Sijin, Yang Jueding, and Xu Ning sat around the long table while Zhang Yuchun poured drinks for everyone.
"Come on, tell us! Did anything interesting happen at the banquet in the White Emperor Mansion?" Li Sifeng blurted impatiently.
The restless youth had grown tired of cultivating in the spiritual mine. A few days ago, he'd sneaked back up the mountain and was promptly beaten by Li Qingqiu before being allowed to stay temporarily.
Li Qingqiu looked toward Yang Jueding. Something about his demeanor felt off.
Qingxiao Sect had just been recognized as one of the Five Great Sects of Guzhou, and no one was seriously injured. By all rights, Yang Jueding should have been ecstatic—boasting about the achievement by now.
Instead, Yang Jueding glanced at Xu Ning, whose cold expression gave nothing away, then hesitated.
"Well? Cat got your tongue?" Li Sifeng pressed, standing up and glaring. "Don't tell me you got beaten up out there?"
Floating silently behind Li Qingqiu, Lin Chuan mimicked Li Sifeng's movements exactly—even the glare—his small ghostly face serious and determined.
Yang Jueding finally sighed and said, "The provincial government has posted an official decree. Qingxiao Sect has been declared one of the new Five Great Sects—recognized by the imperial court as a righteous, orthodox sect."