Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

As dawn lightened and the sun threatened to peek out over the eastern horizon, smoke trailed from Blackmere city in the distance. Xiulan squinted at the dark plume, her heart sinking.

"Look," Feng Yu pointed. "Something’s burning."

Xiulan nodded. "We need to hurry."

"We can’t leave the wagon behind," Feng Yu said, glancing at their load. "Let’s push through to the Treasure Pavilion without stopping."

The gates stood open despite the early hour. People milled about aimlessly, their faces blank. Xiulan’s unease grew as they got closer. What had happened here?

City guards loitered near the gate, their usual vigilance replaced by indifference. They didn’t bother to check anyone or maintain order. She wanted to ask, but that would cost them time. Worse, it would get them noticed.

That turned out to be the case anyway—two cultivators pulling a wagon?

Everyone gawked at them.

Xiulan ignored the stares, hoping no one recognized her under the ash and soot. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and Feng Yu didn’t look much better.

"We missed our chance to shop for outfits because of that idiot Yu Pei," Xiulan muttered.

Feng Yu grunted in agreement. "We’ll just have to present ourselves to Master Qingfeng like this."

The source of the smoke became clear as they neared the Lin Family City Manor. Anxiety twisted in Xiulan’s gut. The manor walls were charred, and it looked like the buildings inside had been torched as well. The rest of the city seemed untouched.

"It was targeted arson," Xiulan said.

"Let’s hope everyone escaped before the fire took hold. It looks like it burned two or three days ago." Feng Yu pulled harder on her side of the wagon.

Xiulan forced her attention away from the smoldering ruins. The sooner they reached the Treasure Pavilion, the sooner she’d learn what happened.

The Pavilion’s main gates stood locked, but two familiar figures guarded the side entrance. Martial Brother Long’s indigo robes rippled as he stepped forward with a raised hand. Martial Brother Mo mirrored his stance.

"Halt!" Long’s voice echoed across the courtyard.

"Martial Brothers." Xiulan bowed despite her exhaustion. "I apologize for our disheveled state, but we need to see Master Qingfeng urgently. We have cargo to deposit and hope to learn recent news."

"Who addresses us?" Mo squinted through the morning haze.

"Lin Xiulan, with my martial sister, Feng Yu."

Recognition flickered across their faces. Long rushed to unlock the gate while Mo ushered them inside.

"I’ll inform Master Qingfeng." Long sprinted toward the main building.

Mo eyed their torn clothing and soot-stained skin. "You look like you ran through a forest fire."

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s throat. "Not far wrong. Cultivator bandits ambushed us multiple times on the road."

His gaze shifted to the contents of their wagon. "The collection device has seen better days."

"It’s perfectly fine." Feng Yu stretched her shoulders. "A few qi blasts from an ancient golden core dawn serpent couldn’t break it."

Mo’s jaw dropped. "What?"

A smile tugged at Xiulan’s lips. For once, it was someone else’s turn to be shocked.

Footsteps echoed across the courtyard. Martial Brother Long returned with six servants trailing behind him, two of which carried a stack of fresh clothing. The familiar purple-robed figure of Merchandiser Ming led the procession, her silver hair gleaming in its severe bun.

"Master Qingfeng will see you both," Ming announced. "However, he suggests you take time to bathe and recuperate first. The servants will show you to—"

"No." Xiulan stepped forward. "I need to check on Mei Chen immediately. And I must know what’s happening in the city right now."

The urgency in her own voice surprised her, but the smoking ruins of her family manor burned. Every moment spent on pleasantries meant more time without answers.

"Master Qingfeng insists you cannot see Mei Chen until he discusses her condition with you directly," Ming said. "Your current state and agitation suggest you need time to recuperate. Otherwise, rash heads might act brashly and regret it later."

Blood rushed to Xiulan’s face. The exhaustion from pulling the wagon vanished under a surge of panic. "What’s that supposed to mean? Did something happen to Mei Chen?" Her fingers curled into fists. "If you did something to her, I’ll—"

Warm arms wrapped around her from behind. Feng Yu’s gentle embrace pinned Xiulan’s arms to her sides, stopping her advance toward Ming.

"Mei Chen’s condition remains stable for now and won’t change in the next few hours." Ming adjusted one of her golden hairpins. "The county’s situation is equally unlikely to shift. There is still time. But the Master’s assessment of your need for rest proves accurate, given your behavior."

A tremor ran through Xiulan’s body. The weight of days spent fighting and running crashed over her. The image of the burning manor blurred with the pile of dead soldiers in her mind.

"It’s true." Feng Yu’s breath tickled Xiulan’s ear. "We should accept their offer."

Xiulan sagged in Feng Yu’s arms. "Fine."

They followed the servants toward the guest building.

She scrubbed her skin raw under the warm water, barely noticing the lavender scent. The white silk robe clung to her damp skin as she yanked it on, not bothering to dry properly. Her fingers trembled while tying the sash.

Without Mei Chen’s practiced touch, her hair remained tangled as she wrestled it into a messy ponytail. The thought of her maid’s gentle hands brought a fresh wave of anxiety. Five steps forward, five steps back—she paced across the polished wooden floor.

Steam curled around the privacy screen as Feng Yu emerged in matching white robes. She leaned against the wall, frowning. "Do you think Master Qingfeng or Ming lied about the situation?"

"No..." Xiulan continued pacing. The floorboards creaked under her bare feet.

"Then stop worrying yourself to death and calm down." Feng Yu crossed her arms. "This isn’t like you."

The words ’what do you know about how I am?’ burned on Xiulan’s tongue. She bit them back, collapsing onto a cushioned bench. Her arms wrapped around her torso as tremors wracked her body.

Her hands shook as memories crashed through her. The stupid need for caffeine. The truck’s headlights. Darkness. Then awakening as someone else—as Lin Xiulan.

The silk cushions beneath her felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. She doubled over, chest tight. Images flashed rapid-fire: Lin Qian’s sneer, Lin Fei’s slap. Guards advancing with drawn swords. Zhang Wei’s bruised face. The scarecrow hanging in her residence hall. Mei Chen’s tortured body in that dark cell.

I killed them. The thought echoed. I killed my family.

Blood splattered across marble floors. Spear spinning between her fingers as she struck them down. Their screams. Lord Lin’s final gasp as she drove her weapon through his open mouth. Suyin’s terror as she was impaled.

Xiulan choked on the visuals as they rushed by. She’d become a monster. The pressure built behind her eyes. Her lungs refused to expand. The room spun as black spots danced in her vision.

"Breathe." Feng Yu’s voice sounded distant, underwater.

But she couldn’t breathe. The walls pressed closer. The wet silk robes constricted like a serpent. Every heartbeat thundered in her ears.

What have I become? The question looped endlessly. What am I doing here?

She wasn’t Lin Xiulan. She was Li Mei—a retail worker who played too many video games. Who died on a neon-lit street? Who woke up in someone else’s life and proceeded to destroy it completely?

That’s not true. Some things are better.

The thought was weak against the raging torrent of trauma.

The cushions slipped away as she curled into herself on the floor. Her forehead pressed against the cool wood as tremors wracked her body.

All the careful plans, the calculated moves, the desperate fights for survival—they crashed down at once, crushing her beneath their weight.

Warm arms wrapped around her from behind as Feng Yu pulled her close. The dam broke. Tears streamed down Xiulan’s face, soaking into her martial sister’s silk robes. Every suppressed emotion—fear, guilt, grief—poured out in wracking sobs until darkness claimed her.

Sunlight pierced through silk curtains when Xiulan opened her eyes. A soft bed cradled her aching body, but her head throbbed. She pushed herself up, squinting at the light.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Feeling any better?"

Xiulan startled at Feng Yu’s voice from a shadowed corner.

"A little." Xiulan rubbed her temples. "Did you get any rest? Learn anything?"

"Not much." Feng Yu shifted in her seat. "Though Master Qingfeng sent word—you can see him whenever you’re ready."

Xiulan ran fingers through her tangled hair. "Help me look presentable?"

"Hah. Okay." Feng Yu stood. "The servants offered earlier, you know. You’re just like a princess."

"Sorry." Xiulan dropped her gaze.

"Don’t be."

Feng Yu’s gentle hands smoothed Xiulan’s disheveled hair while she changed into fresh robes. The silk whispered against her skin, unmarred by wrinkles or stains.

"There." Feng Yu stepped back. "Now we both look presentable."

"Since becoming a cultivator, I forgot that a woman’s armor is her presentation." Xiulan adjusted her sleeves.

"Personally, I prefer kicking ass." Feng Yu shrugged. "Looking nice is just a bonus. Who doesn’t enjoy being clean?"

Xiulan nodded. Heat crept into her cheeks at the memory of her earlier breakdown. Feng Yu tied on her red sash and secured her sword without comment. Xiulan checked her concealed daggers, ensuring each sat properly against her waist. Together they left the guest house, stepping into the morning air.

A servant in blue robes bowed at the guest house entrance. "Master Qingfeng awaits. Please follow me."

Xiulan recognized the familiar path through the Treasure Pavilion’s second floor. Polished wooden floors gleamed beneath her feet as they approached the tea room.

Master Qingfeng sat cross-legged at the low table, steam already rising from his teacup. He gestured to the cushions across from him.

Xiulan settled onto one, smoothing her robes. "Master Qingfeng, I bring a message from Master Yan. He said, ’Please inform Master Qingfeng that Yan Qingshi remembers him. Some of us would welcome his return to active circles.’"

"Thank you for your precision." Master Qingfeng chuckled lightly as he poured fresh tea into two cups. "Pay no mind to that senile master’s words."

A weak laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. "Master Qingfeng, forgive my impatience, but I must know about Mei Chen and what has been going on in Blackmere. What news?"

Master Qingfeng lifted the steaming cup to his lips, savoring each sip with infuriating slowness. Xiulan gripped her knees under the table.

"I’ve discovered information about Mei Chen’s condition." Master Qingfeng set his cup down with practiced grace. "Though rare, a solution might exist for her deteriorating state."

Xiulan’s fingers dug deeper into her knees. "That sounds like there’s a ’but’ coming?"

"Indeed. Mei Chen’s condition worsens faster than anticipated."

The words sparked inside Xiulan. She shot to her feet, sending her teacup spinning across the polished table. "Then why waste time here drinking tea?"

Silence filled the room as tea dripped onto the floor. Master Qingfeng remained motionless, studying her with unblinking eyes.

"Please forgive my companion." Feng Yu dabbed at the spilled tea with her sleeve. She tugged at Xiulan’s robe. "We’ve endured much since leaving. The strain weighs heavily."

A metallic taste filled Xiulan’s mouth as she bit her cheek. She dropped back onto the cushion, arms crossed.

"Youth experiences time differently." Master Qingfeng traced the rim of his cup. "Each moment feels like an eternity, each setback like the end of everything."

Master Qingfeng poured another cup of tea and slid it toward Xiulan. "Your next attempt to help Mei Chen will be your last. She’ll either transform into a wrathful spirit or wake up."

"Wrathful spirit?" Feng Yu’s brows furrowed. "We’ve been on a mission to help someone already dead?"

The accusation stung. Xiulan straightened her spine. "She still breathes. Her qi still flows."

Master Qingfeng set his cup down with a soft click. "The chances remain low, but ancient texts suggest her mind might endure. A treatise from beyond the Scorched Lands of Solterra speaks of similar cases—remnants of a long-lost empire to the east."

Xiulan remained still. "That’s fascinating, but what do I need to do?"

"You must equalize your qi with hers." Master Qingfeng’s expression hardened. "Without succumbing to the yin energy. If you fail, you’ll both become wrathful spirits."

"What!" Feng Yu blurted. "That’s entirely too reckless—impossible! You can’t revive the dead!"

"No." Master Qingfeng smiled thinly. "But you can wake the undead. Mei Chen’s spirit is tied to her corpse. She cultivates still. Whatever the result, it will depend on Miss Lin."

Xiulan gripped her teacup. "What about the burning manor in the city? We found a platoon of soldiers slaughtered on the road outside the city, rotting."

"Two black-robed cultivators arrived three days ago." Master Qingfeng frowned, fingers tapping on the table. "They burned the manor, then executed the city magistrate."

"The officials?"

"In complete disarray." Master Qingfeng’s fingers stilled. "The pavilion’s eyes and ears suggest the Chao family orchestrated this. Their soldiers march toward the county as we speak. At least ten thousand strong."

Cold sweat beaded on Xiulan’s forehead. She pressed her palm against her temple as the room spun. Mother. Zhang Wei. The manor. "They must have killed the rest of my family... The manor had no defense against cultivators—"

"No." Master Qingfeng raised his hand. "Word arrived yesterday. The manor repelled an attack. Lady Zhao Lian sent word herself."

"Repelled?" Xiulan blinked rapidly. "How? Did Cousin Min bring reinforcements? A cultivator?" She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "Why aren’t they restoring order to the city?"

Master Qingfeng shook his head. "The details remain unclear. The cultivators stumbled back into the city, looking battered before departing. More will come—the Chao family seems determined to eliminate the Lin family entirely. They’ve abandoned subtlety, using their daughter’s murder as justification. I’ve no word on how they’ve delayed the provincial prefect from intervening."

Feng Yu straightened. "We need to reach the Lin manor and discover the truth."

"It would be vital, yes." Master Qingfeng nodded. "But Mei Chen’s condition takes priority."

Xiulan pushed back from the table. "I’ll go now—"

Master Qingfeng raised his hand, cutting her off. "A day of preparation remains essential. And you’ve yet to fulfill your end of our bargain. Helping with this, to give it even a hope of working, will cost Treasure Pavilion considerable treasure."

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Given the circumstances, I’ll accommodate you before receiving payment, but understand the risk." He stared at Xiulan intently. "This procedure could kill you."

"The pill won’t be a problem." Xiulan met his gaze. "While you prepare, I can craft it."

Master Qingfeng’s eyebrow arched upward.

"I acquired thunder root in Fershere in addition to the scales from Dawn Valley." Xiulan allowed a small smile to play across her lips.

"I see." Master Qingfeng folded his hands on the table. "You’ll need equipment and items to process the pill, since your manor in the city burned."

A sharp pang shot through Xiulan’s chest. All those alchemy supplies. Everything I bought... ruined. She pushed aside the sting of loss—the meridian opening pill required minimal tools, anyway.

"I’ll be fine." Xiulan straightened her shoulders. "I prefer privacy. No one should steal my secrets."

Feng Yu shot her an incredulous look that screamed did you really just say that out loud?

Master Qingfeng stroked his beard, eyes glinting. "And what if I required those secrets as payment?"

"Haaah..." Xiulan drummed her fingers on the table, mimicking the master’s hand earlier. "I might consider it if you personally intervened to stop the Chao family and became my family’s patron and protector."

"I would consider such an arrangement." Master Qingfeng’s fingers stilled in his beard. "But the Treasure Pavilion elders have placed limitations on me. Interfering with mortal matters at my cultivation level would prove quite self-damaging."

"The young bloods must handle its own affairs before they leave mortality behind..." Feng Yu’s words carried a weight of ancient wisdom.

"That is the concept, yes." Master Qingfeng nodded. "The kingdom’s guardian spirit enforces this law. We’re fortunate such restrictions exist."

Xiulan bowed from her seated position. "I will prepare the item for you at once."

"Young lady." Master Qingfeng’s tone sharpened. "Your loss of composure today remains understandable. But you do no favors for your efforts, your family, or those who rely on you by remaining unsettled. Calm is required for nobles and cultivators alike, unless they wish to become unbalanced."

He tapped the table. "Not everyone proves as understanding as I."

Xiulan bent forward into a deep bow. "I apologize for my earlier behavior."

Master Qingfeng lifted his cup. "The pill will cover the pavilion’s assistance with Mei Chen. We’ll extend protection to you and any family members within these walls."

He set the cup down with a soft click. "Beyond them, my hands remain tied."

"Having a safe haven in a storm will always prove valuable." Feng Yu smoothed her sleeves.

Xiulan shot a sidelong glance at her companion and winced. Really? Taking his side? Traitor.

"Speaking of debts." Master Qingfeng’s fingers traced the rim of his cup. "You still owe the Treasure Pavilion a favor."

"How could I ever forget such a burden?" Xiulan kept her tone light despite the weight in her chest.

A low chuckle rumbled from Master Qingfeng. "If some burdens prove hard to carry, others might become a blessing. When one floats off toward the sun, what more could they wish for than something to bring them back to safety?"

"We’re hardly on a hot-air balloon ride—" Xiulan snapped before catching herself. She pressed her lips together, forcing back the rest of her retort.

Master Qingfeng dismissed them with a casual wave. Xiulan stepped into the hall beside Feng Yu, her boots clicking against the floor.

"Here I thought I enjoyed danger." Feng Yu nudged Xiulan’s shoulder. "But you—handling snakes and poking bears seems to be your specialty."

"Ha ha." Xiulan’s laugh echoed off the wooden walls.

Feng Yu tilted her head. "What’s a hot-air balloon?"

A wince crossed Xiulan’s face. "Just an idea. A way mortals might fly someday."

"Huh." Feng Yu studied her. "You always have such special ideas?"

"Maybe." Xiulan adjusted her sleeve.

"So..." Feng Yu lowered her voice. "How do we make this special pill?"

Xiulan glanced around the empty hallway. "The Treasure Pavilion uses recording devices. We need somewhere private. Perhaps the manor?"

"You’ll need protection." Feng Yu touched her sword hilt. "Sure you want to risk me learning and memorizing the method?"

"Better you than Master Qingfeng."

"My naïve little martial sister." Feng Yu patted Xiulan’s shoulder. "Your trust makes you adorable."