Wang Li leaned against the ancient pine tree atop the Whispering Peak, the highest point within the sect's outer disciple territory. From here, the view was breathtaking—rolling mountains bathed in moonlight, silver clouds curling lazily across the sky, and the soft hum of spiritual energy drifting on the wind.
He took a deep breath. It smelled like pine needles, cold air… and peach blossom.
"You're hiding up here again," came a familiar voice, playful and annoyed all at once.
Wang Li turned to see Mu Qingling standing there, arms folded, her long ponytail swaying like a banner in the wind. She wore a light pink robe today, trimmed with white silk, and her cheeks were dusted with a faint blush from the night air.
"You found me quickly," he said with a grin.
"Of course. You've become as predictable as a lovestruck fool in a romantic scroll." She walked up beside him, gazing over the cliffside. "But I suppose the view's worth the climb."
They stood in silence for a while. The stars were unusually bright tonight, scattered like diamonds across an endless black sea.
"Why did you come?" he asked softly.
She hesitated before answering. "You left before dinner. Feng Yuling said you were training, but I knew that was a lie. You only train like a madman when something's bothering you."
Wang Li smiled weakly. "You know me too well."
"I've known you too long not to." She turned toward him, her eyes serious now. "Wang Li, talk to me."
He glanced away, unsure where to begin. So much had changed in such a short time—his cultivation skyrocketing through risky methods, the growing tension with the Azure Sky Sect, the Sect Master's secret instructions. And on top of it all, his complicated, tangled web of emotions with the women who had once broken his heart—and now, somehow, stood beside him.
"I just…" he started, voice low, "I keep thinking this isn't real. That I'll wake up and be back in the mundane world again. Where I was just some washed-up martial artist working at a dead-end dojo."
Mu Qingling stepped closer. "It is real. And you've changed. Grown stronger. Wiser. More irritating, yes, but that's part of your charm."
He chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. "Thanks, I think."
She suddenly reached out, placing her hand over his. "And you're not alone anymore, Wang Li. You have us. Me. Feng Yuling. Even Lin Ruoyan, in her own fiery way. We're here… because we believe in you."
The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard. For a moment, he couldn't speak.
Then, softly, he said, "Do you ever regret… what we were? Back then?"
Mu Qingling looked away, her smile bittersweet. "Every now and then. But I think… maybe we broke apart so we could meet again as better people."
He turned toward her. Their faces were inches apart.
Moonlight traced her features in silver. Her eyes reflected the stars, and her breath mingled with his. Slowly, tentatively, she leaned forward.
He met her halfway.
Their lips touched—gently at first, a brush of warmth and memory. Then deeper, the kiss unfolding like a blooming flower, sweet and full of longing. The world quieted around them, the wind holding its breath.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them flushed and slightly breathless, Wang Li whispered, "That… didn't feel like the past."
Mu Qingling smiled. "Good. Because I want the future."
Before either could say more, a spiritual flare crackled in the sky—a streak of red lightning flashing toward the horizon.
"That's the Azure Sky Sect signal," Wang Li muttered, frowning. "Something's happening."
"Looks like our quiet night just ended," Mu Qingling sighed. "Come on. Let's go see what kind of mess you're about to be thrown into this time."
By the time they arrived at the sect's Grand Arena, a large crowd had gathered.
Wang Li spotted Feng Yuling standing calmly by the stone stairs, arms folded beneath her frost-colored robes. Lin Ruoyan was already in the ring, glaring daggers at a smug young cultivator in Azure Sky Sect robes.
"This better not be about me," Wang Li muttered.
"Oh, it is," Feng Yuling said without turning. "Apparently, one of their young talents was offended by your reputation and challenged you to a duel at dawn."
"Great," he sighed. "Do I at least get a name?"
Feng Yuling arched a brow. "Chu Yunzhao. Elder's son. Mid-stage Core Formation. Not known for mercy."
"Of course," Wang Li grumbled. "Why is it always a young master?"
From the center of the arena, Chu Yunzhao's voice boomed, laced with arrogance. "Wang Li! If you're half the man your women claim you are, come face me!"
A hush fell over the arena.
Mu Qingling snorted. "This idiot's really asking to be slapped."
Wang Li stepped forward. "Then I suppose I'd better not disappoint."
As he walked into the arena, he felt all eyes lock on him. Disciples murmured from the shadows. Elders watched from the pavilions above. Even the Sect Master sat silently at the edge of the crowd, unreadable.
Chu Yunzhao smirked, drawing a blade crackling with lightning qi. "I'll keep this simple, Wang Li. Survive three moves, and I'll consider you worthy."
Wang Li cracked his neck. "You talk like you're already in the lead. Let's see if your sword is as big as your ego."
"Begin!" called the referee.
Yunzhao moved like a thunderbolt. His first strike split the air, arcs of electricity tearing through the stone. Wang Li rolled aside, countering with a feint, then drawing the Shadowfang dagger in a blur of motion.
The second exchange was a whirlwind of sparks and steel. Yunzhao's power was overwhelming—but Wang Li danced through the attacks with precision, his movements guided by instinct, training, and sheer stubbornness.
By the third move, the crowd was holding their breath.
Yunzhao roared, unleashing his signature technique—Heaven's Judgment Slash.
Wang Li's eyes narrowed. He focused his qi into the Shadowfang and stepped directly into the strike.
There was a flash of light—then silence.
When the dust cleared, Yunzhao was on one knee, panting, his blade cracked.
Wang Li stood firm, dagger at the ready.
"I believe," he said, voice calm, "that's three."
The arena erupted into stunned silence—then cheers.
Mu Qingling pumped her fist. Feng Yuling nodded slightly. Lin Ruoyan allowed herself a small smirk.
Yunzhao growled. "This isn't over."
"No," Wang Li agreed. "But for now? It is."
As he walked back toward his friends, heart pounding and robes torn, he realized something.
He wasn't the same man who had stumbled into this world.
He was Wang Li—cultivator, survivor… and perhaps, something more.
And as Mu Qingling slid her arm into his, and Feng Yuling gave him a rare approving look, he thought—
Maybe this messed-up, romantic, chaotic cultivation life wasn't so bad after all.