Chapter Two: This World Is Far Too Dangerous

"Gu Changqing, if you’ve got any guts, don’t run! Just wait till I catch you—I’ll beat you senseless!"

A girl, her colorful robes in disarray and her hair damp, her appearance ethereal yet charmingly pretty, was now chasing a chubby boy over the hills, her face twisted in fury. She swung a branch from a spirit tree—heaven knows where she’d snatched it from—her crescent eyes clouded with mist, cheeks puffed and flushed red with anger.

"Mu Wan’er, listen to me, let me explain! I swear I didn’t mean it..."

Gu Changqing scampered away, hands protectively over his head, but even as he fled, he felt a mix of pain and delight.

After lying in bed for more than three years, he was mostly recovered, but he’d missed out on years of cultivation compared to his peers, leaving his abilities far behind. Now, he couldn’t match up to anyone he met. This time, he was clearly in the wrong. If Mu Wan’er, in her rage, actually caught him, he knew without a doubt he’d get a thorough beating. Yet, when he recalled that intoxicating scene by the hidden lake on the main peak—when he’d accidentally stumbled upon Mu Wan’er rising from the water among the lotus blossoms—he honestly felt it would be worth the beating.

"A wise man knows when to retreat. I’d better hide out for now—wait for Wan’er to cool off, then figure out how to make it up to her," Gu Changqing muttered, darting away and vanishing from sight.

Late that night, after his mischief, Gu Changqing crept cautiously back to his room. Exhausted from the day, he collapsed onto his bed and, replaying that unforgettable lakeside scene in his mind, drifted off to sleep with a satisfied smile.

The next day, word of Gu Changqing bullying Mu Wan’er spread through the outer sect. Among the younger disciples, there were enough admirers of Mu Wan’er that you could probably crush a pile of them with a single brick. No one knew exactly how Gu Changqing had managed to make Wan’er cry, but everyone vehemently condemned his "atrocious" behavior. Quite a few disciples, either powerful or well-connected, pitched tents at the foot of the Fifth Peak, guarding the path down the mountain and swearing to teach Gu Changqing a lesson on Wan’er’s behalf.

The senior disciples and elders, however, regarded the whole affair as nothing more than youthful bravado and mischief. They shared knowing smiles and didn’t take it seriously. Since Gu Changqing’s recovery, he’d caused plenty of trouble, but he’d also brought them much amusement—a rare pleasure for cultivators, who spent centuries away from worldly affairs and focused solely on their training.

The layout of the Seven Peaks of the Misty Sect was ingeniously designed: the First Peak stood at the center, the other six encircling it for protection. If trouble occurred on one peak, the others could quickly come to its aid.

Mu Wan’er lived on the main peak, the cherished youngest disciple of Elder Mu Laohuo, the master of the Alchemy Pavilion. Mu Laohuo was utterly devoted to the art of alchemy, caring nothing for power or position. Though he wasn’t the head of a peak, his standing in the Misty Sect was equal to any peak master’s. Even the sect leader treated him with utmost courtesy and deference.

Every year, countless new disciples vied for a spot in the Alchemy Pavilion, but Mu Laohuo’s standards for alchemy talent were so high that, over the years, only a scant hundred or so had been accepted—most with only modest aptitude. As a result, high-grade pills were extremely scarce in the Misty Sect, making them all the more precious. Disciples with strong talent for alchemy enjoyed status on par with ordinary elders. Mu Wan’er, though a girl, possessed extraordinary talent for alchemy—so much so that Mu Laohuo nearly worshipped her like an ancestor.

When Mu Laohuo noticed his treasured disciple’s gloomy mood and heard what had happened, his eyes widened and his beard bristled in outrage. Without hesitation, he abruptly cut off the monthly supply of pills to the Fifth Peak.

Gu Zaizuo, feeling guilty, swallowed his pride and went to beg Mu Laohuo for leniency. They ended up in a fierce argument, but in the end, Gu Zaizuo had to slink back to the Fifth Peak in defeat. Though his face was dark with anger, he couldn’t bring himself to scold his mischievous grandson. He simply thought that perhaps it was time for the boy to rein himself in, focus on cultivation, and truly improve his abilities—for in the end, only true strength could ensure survival in this harsh world.

That night, Gu Zaizuo summoned his grandson Gu Changqing to the study and, with painstaking patience, impressed upon him the grim and ruthless realities of the cultivation world.

Immortal sects, dynasties, noble clans, demonic cultivators, rogue cultivators, mystical beasts... Murder and pillaging were commonplace, annihilated families and destroyed sects were everyday occurrences.

After a whole night of admonitions, Gu Changqing’s chubby face bore swollen, sleepless eyes. He shuddered inwardly, grateful that he hadn’t transmigrated into the body of some unknown rogue cultivator—otherwise, any treasures he got his hands on would be snatched away before he could even enjoy them.

"My so-called father went off to find a miracle healer for me and hasn’t been heard from in years. Did he get himself killed somewhere?"

"The Misty Sect is only second-rate, and though it’s well hidden, who knows when some powerful enemy might come and wipe us all out?"

Pushing aside his anxieties, the chubby Gu Changqing found himself in a thoroughly sour mood.

He sighed to himself, "This world is just too dangerous."