Ultimate Magus in Cultivation World

They passed beneath the red archway gates as dusk deepened into velvet night, lanterns bobbing in the warm breeze like drifting fire spirits.

Yuxin slowed her stride, gaze gliding over the vivid market streets: paper fans painted with cranes, trays of sugared lotus seeds, the crackling aroma of grilled river eel wafting from corner stalls. It was all color and noise and life—a sharp, almost dizzying contrast to the frozen graveyard they'd just left behind.

Tian Lei, predictably, walked through it all like a blade through fog. Straight-backed. Silent. Utterly untempted.

Yuxin sighed, long and theatrical, as she fell into step beside him. "You know," she said lightly, "the world isn't going to implode if you breathe in a little joy."

"I am breathing," he replied, without slowing.

"That's debatable." Her veil hid the smirk curling her lips. "Fortunately, I happen to be an expert in morale logistics."

They checked into an inn overlooking the central koi pond—a serene courtyard haven tucked away from the city's raucous heartbeat. Polished wood, silk curtains, the soft trickle of water over stone.

Tian Lei paid with the sect's insignia token, and the innkeeper nearly folded in half with gratitude, ushering them to the best rooms without a word of negotiation.

Yuxin swept into her quarters like a drifting petal, twirling once just to let her sleeves fan out. "Mm. Acceptable."

Tian Lei simply set his sword by the wall and sat, cross-legged, as still as carved obsidian.

"Spirits above," she muttered. "Do you even possess an off-switch?"

"No."

"Of course not."

Later, she coaxed him out for a walk—half out of boredom, half out of sheer stubborn principle.

The city had shifted tone by nightfall: the markets quieter, the air cooler, the lights dimmed to amber glows. Musicians played slow melodies in the teahouse pavilions, and incense curled from temple lanterns like silver ribbons.

They walked the bridge spanning the koi pond, watching the fish swirl like molten gold beneath the lantern-lit surface. Yuxin leaned against the railing, veil stirring in the breeze, eyes fixed on the ripples.

"You never say what you think of these places," she murmured. "Do they ever remind you… that the world can be gentle?"

Tian Lei was silent for a long while. The wind tugged at his loose hair.

Then, quietly: "Gentleness is fleeting."

Yuxin tilted her head toward him, eyes gleaming like crescent moons. "So is lightning. Yet here you are—chasing both."

That earned her a glance. Just a flicker. But it was enough.

By the time they returned to the inn, the moon was high—silver and sharp-edged in the deep ink of the sky.

At her door, Yuxin paused. The soft light caught on her veil, on the faint smile tugging her lips. "Tomorrow," she said, voice feather-soft, "we dive back into chaos."

"Tomorrow," Tian Lei agreed.

And though he stood as impassive as ever, Yuxin caught the briefest ghost of something warm in his eyes—as though for one fragile moment, he wasn't just bracing for the next storm.

Dawn arrived in a quiet hush of gold and mist.

The inn's courtyard lay still, save for the koi breaking the pond's glassy surface and the occasional clink of a tea cup from the kitchen. Tian Lei was already there when Yuxin emerged—of course he was—standing at the edge of the garden stones, eyes closed, blade hovering weightless in his palm as he cycled his Soul Qi in absolute silence.

Yuxin stifled a sigh and a yawn all at once. "Do you dream of being this unbearable," she asked dryly, "or is it an innate talent?"

He opened his eyes, not rising to the bait. "We move within the hour."

"Mm. No tea, no breakfast. Ruthless efficiency as always."

Still, she drifted closer, her veil catching the first rays of light. "Where to, oh tireless storm?"

Tian Lei unrolled the spirit map again, silver light sparking like lightning veins across its surface. "Southwest. The Shimmering Hollow."

Yuxin arched a brow. "Sounds poetic. Which naturally means it's horrific."

He didn't correct her.

The cloud crane carried them over the waking city and out into rolling hills that gave way to jagged canyons. The world below shifted from green to ochre to bone-white, until the air itself shimmered with heat.

And then they saw it—the Hollow.

A sinkhole the size of a city lay carved into the earth like the palmprint of a god. Waterfalls of molten light cascaded silently down its sheer walls, vanishing into a bottomless glow. Fractured shards of floating stone orbited the pit like lazy stars, their surfaces etched in runes that flickered and died like dying fireflies.

Yuxin's breath caught despite herself. "Oh… Well. It is rather pretty. In a 'might kill us instantly' sort of way."

"Leyline breach," Tian Lei said, tone flat as bedrock. "The Sect believes a fragment of a Sky Mirror Crystal surfaced at the core. The Hollow formed around it."

"Sky Mirror Crystal…" Yuxin's voice softened, thoughtful. "No wonder the leylines are bleeding light."

She tilted her head toward him. "So. Lethal spiritual instability, possible spatial collapse, and hallucinatory light currents. Our specialty."

He only adjusted his sword strap.

They descended carefully, weaving between the drifting stone islands. The closer they got, the more the world seemed to blur at the edges. Light refracted strangely, bending around them; shadows lagged a heartbeat behind their movements; the air tasted like frost and lightning.

Halfway down, Yuxin hissed softly. "Spirits. Look."

Below, on one of the larger platforms near the Hollow's glowing center, something stirred. Not alive—exactly—but not dead either. A creature of fractured stone and broken mirrors, shaped vaguely like a serpent, coils of reflective shards grinding together as it rose. Its body warped the light around it into twisting ribbons, and where its eyes should have been, twin points of blank, hungry void burned.

"A Mirror Wyrm," Yuxin whispered. "Born from the crystal's leaking essence."

Tian Lei's Soul Sense flared like drawn steel. "I'll draw its gaze. You secure the fragment."

Yuxin's veil fluttered like a pale banner as she smirked faintly. "Try not to die. It would ruin the symmetry."

He leapt first—his blade streaking silver arcs through the shifting light as he slammed down onto the wyrm's back. The creature screeched like shattering glass, its body rippling and splitting into prismatic copies of itself.

Tian Lei's sword sliced through them, his aura flaring like a blazing sun, collapsing false images with every strike. The wyrm coiled and struck back, its mirrored hide reflecting his attacks into warped duplicates—ghost slashes that twisted toward him from impossible angles.

He wove through them without faltering, a storm of cold precision.

Meanwhile, Yuxin danced along the drifting stones, her form almost translucent amid the shimmering haze. Threads of silk shot from her sleeves, anchoring her to the shifting platforms as she descended toward the Hollow's heart.

There—in the dead center of the swirling light—hovered the Sky Mirror Crystal fragment. It spun slowly, casting a thousand fractured reflections of her face, her eyes, her blade.

Whispers clawed at the edges of her mind—her own voice, fragmented and cruel. You will shatter like them. You are only silk. You are only shadow.

She smiled under her veil. "Silk cuts deeper than you think."

Her sword flashed, slicing through the reflection threads around the fragment, severing its tether to the leyline's madness. She snatched it from the air, sealing it instantly inside a jade talisman at her belt.

Above, Tian Lei drove his sword straight through the wyrm's head. The creature convulsed, fracturing into a million splinters of light that disintegrated into drifting dust.

The Hollow dimmed.

The air stilled.

By the time they rose back toward the canyon rim on the waiting crane, the sinkhole lay quiet—its furious glow faded to a faint, steady pulse far below.

Yuxin leaned back against the crane's saddle, holding the talisman up so the sunlight danced over it. "Three missions. Three perfect successes."

Tian Lei simply sat straight as ever, gaze on the horizon.

But his knuckles were no longer white on the hilt.

And Yuxin, seeing that tiny concession, let herself close her eyes with a soft, victorious hum as the wind carried them toward the next unknown.

Morning arrived wrapped in the hush of mist, the city still half-asleep as the first sunbeams bled over its tiled rooftops.

Yuxin stirred first, slipping out of her room draped in traveling robes of pale silver. The air smelled faintly of dew and incense ash. She crossed the courtyard bridge on silent feet, koi glimmering beneath her reflection.

Tian Lei was already waiting. Of course he was.

Seated beneath the courtyard's ancient plum tree, sword resting across his knees, eyes closed in meditation as if the world outside him didn't exist.

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked, voice still husky from dreams.

He opened his eyes, calm and unhurried. "I did. Briefly."

"How decadent," she teased, lowering herself onto the bench opposite him. "A whole three breaths?"

"Five."

Yuxin chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Careful, you might spoil yourself."