Jian Dan gathered the last wisp of spiritual energy into her dantian. Her cultivation in the mid-stage of foundation building was now fully stabilized. Yet, the man beneath the tree had still not left. He circled the tree idly, as though searching for something. Jian Dan found his persistence oddly amusing. After suppressing her aura, she stood and perched herself on one of the branches, peering down through the leaves.
At that moment, Zheng Da happened to look up.
Their gazes met—and for a fleeting instant, his mind went blank.
A woman sat upon the branch, cloaked in dappled light that filtered through the foliage. Her long black hair cascaded to her waist, its ends brushing against the bark. Her face was serene, elegant, with eyes bright as stars. She looked down at him with a quiet, teasing smile.
Zheng Da stared, entranced.
Then, Jian Dan leapt.
Her descent was light, almost playful. On instinct, Zheng Da stepped forward, arms outstretched, intent on catching her—but in the next instant, his face twisted in shock.
The figure falling toward him dissolved midair into a thousand glowing fragments, like stardust scattered by the wind. Her smile lingered the longest before fading, and then the forest fell utterly still. As though nothing had ever happened.
Zheng Da stood frozen, cold sweat seeping down his spine.
—
Far from there, Jian Dan moved swiftly through the increasingly dense forest. Her fingers brushed aside branches, nudged bushes aside, and once or twice she paused to rearrange a flower or vine.
With each movement, the forest path grew more intricate, eventually forming a subtle maze formation. No ordinary traveler could penetrate it now—any who tried would find themselves turned around, always returning to where they began.
Deeper in the heart of Shennongjia, mist clung to the trees, thick and heavy with moisture. The air grew cooler, vision blurrier.
Jian Dan released her spiritual sense, heading directly for the forest's center. At last, through the veil of fog, she saw it—a towering banyan tree. Its roots alone were so massive she couldn't take in the whole tree with her eyes. Only her spiritual awareness could perceive its full form. Thick vines, as wide as a person's arm, twisted up its trunk. Small white flowers—plain but beautiful—bloomed along the greenery, adorning the ancient bark.
But one thing puzzled Jian Dan—she could not see the tree's age.
With her level of cultivation, her spiritual sense should've easily pierced through the surface to reveal its inner structure. Yet the banyan remained opaque. Very mysterious.
Curious, she stepped forward and gently touched the bark.
The texture was rough beneath her fingertips. She was just about to press her whole palm against it when the unexpected happened.
A strange green flame suddenly engulfed her hand.
Startled, Jian Dan reflexively tried to fling it off—but the flame had already begun to seep through her skin, winding into her meridians. It surged toward her dantian, and with it came searing pain—like her very insides were being scorched. Her meridians twisted, cracked, and some of the finer channels snapped entirely.
She dropped to the ground, cold sweat beading on her brow.
A foreign flame... an alien fire, born from wood itself. A stroke of fortune—and a dangerous one.
Despite the agony, Jian Dan did not panic.
Back pressed against the banyan, she sat cross-legged and turned her senses inward. Within her dantian, the green flame had become entangled in a chaotic battle with her own primal qi. The two forces wrestled violently, attacking and consuming one another.
She began to circulate the Primordial Chaos Sutra, drawing spiritual energy from the forest around her to replenish her damaged meridians and stabilize her dantian.
Then, applying the principles of the five elemental cycles, she began converting her internal energy into water qi—gentle, vast, and capable of subduing fire. Forming a barrier of spiritual power, she encased the green flame.
As her cultivation drew in more qi, the watery shell compressed further, constricting the flame's movement. With each clash, Jian Dan absorbed some of the fire's essence, refining it through elemental transformation—fire into water—strengthening the shell with every cycle.
Gradually, the green flame dimmed.
Jian Dan exhaled a breath of relief—it was the first sign of control.
Still, she could not afford carelessness. She had underestimated this era, believing it void of danger. That carelessness had allowed this wild flame to invade her body.
Half of her still felt like it was burning alive.
Steeling her mind, she prepared to subdue the flame completely. If she couldn't tame it, she would destroy it. She could not allow such a volatile force to remain inside her.
But then something changed.
The green flame's attacks ceased. It curled into a small ball and shrank in size. Gently, it drifted toward the barrier she'd formed—not to strike it, but to nuzzle it.
A sense passed through their bond: submission.
Though faint, the message was unmistakable.
Without hesitation, Jian Dan sent a wisp of spiritual sense into the flame's core. There was no resistance. Her consciousness branded it with her mark.
At once, a connection formed between them.
She released the watery barrier, and the green flame flowed naturally into her fire root. Her fire attribute grew stronger, and her dantian expanded ever so slightly.
Jian Dan began circulating her cultivation technique in a full meridian cycle.
The parts of her body scorched by the flame slowly began to heal, the spiritual energy knitting torn channels, expanding them slightly in the process. Her meridians became more flexible—stronger, more resilient.
Yet she remained focused.
Her spiritual sense penetrated deeper, threading like a hair-fine thread into the flame's root.
It shimmered once.
Then merged fully into her fire root.
Only then did Jian Dan finally, truly, breathe easy.