Chapter Three: The Mystic Sound Sect

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The Tianyuan Continent, one of the lands within the Eastern Divine Region, which itself is divided into three great continents: Tianyuan, Tianxuan, and Tianyu.

Legend has it that the Eastern Divine Region was originally a realm of utter chaos, shrouded in darkness, where the creatures who dwelled there suffered endlessly. Yet, from the void, a supreme deity of dazzling golden radiance and unfathomable cultivation descended. With divine might, this god shattered the chaos, forging a brilliant sun and bringing hope to all living beings, thus opening the way for the Eastern Divine Region.

After dispelling the chaos, this supreme deity left behind only a single character—"Tian"—before vanishing without a trace. The original inhabitants searched for centuries, but found not the slightest clue of the god’s whereabouts.

To honor this great being, the Eastern Divine Region was divided into three continents, each bearing the word "Tian" in its name.

Within Tianyuan Continent, countless sects devoted to cultivation flourished. The righteous path was represented by the Sword Sect, the Xuan Yin Sect, and the Daoist Sect, alongside numerous medium-sized sects, such as the Falling Moon Sect and the Valley of Absolute Sentiment.

Where there is righteousness, there is also the demonic path, with sects like the Heavenly Demon Sect, the Blood Refining Sect, and the Myriad Venoms Sect standing in opposition.

Our protagonist, Xia Yu, was a disciple of the Xuan Yin Sect.

Xia Yu felt a wave of coolness sweep through her body, as if she were bathing in a hot spring, every cell breathing in harmony.

But suddenly, she sensed a blazing fire burning within, causing great discomfort. She wanted to reach out and probe, but found herself unable to move.

In an instant, it was as if she had been cast into the far north, cold to the bone, with a torrent of icy energy erupting from within.

In a secluded chamber, two women of ethereal beauty stood by, their gazes fixed upon the young girl lying atop a bed of pure ice at the center of the room.

“Sect Master, has the Millennium Profound Ice Bed already healed this little girl’s wounds so quickly?” the younger of the two asked in astonishment.

The Sect Master of Xuan Yin Sect, Illusory Qianyin, was a cultivator of the Nascent Soul stage. Owing to her unparalleled beauty, she was known to the world as the “Illusory Fairy.”

“The Profound Ice Bed is one of our sect’s finest spirit treasures; healing the injuries of a mortal is a trifling matter,” Illusory Qianyin said coolly.

(Weapon Grades: Mortal, Magic, Spiritual, Spirit Treasure, Immortal… Each level is divided into lower, middle, and upper tiers.)

Gazing at Xia Yu on the bed of ice, Illusory Qianyin allowed herself a faint smile, excitement shining in her eyes. This child possessed an extraordinarily rare spiritual root—one in ten thousand, a Celestial Root. Otherwise, she would never have used a spirit treasure to heal this little girl.

(Fake Spiritual Root—Inferior—Normal—Earth—Celestial—and the legendary Spiritual Vein.)

Illusory Qianyin herself was also gifted with a Celestial Root, which allowed her to reach the Nascent Soul stage at such a young age—though the support of the sect had surely played its part.

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The entire Xuan Yin Sect numbered barely over a hundred souls, yet it remained among the three great sects of Tianyuan—thanks in no small part to Illusory Qianyin’s tireless efforts.

A thousand years ago, during the righteous-demonic war, the Xuan Yin Sect bore the brunt of the conflict and suffered devastating losses. Thousands of disciples fell to the hands of the demonic path. Though the righteous ultimately prevailed, the Xuan Yin Sect fell into decline, dwindling to a mere hundred members.

Were it not for their sacrifices in that war, the Xuan Yin Sect would have long since lost its place among the three great sects, surpassed even by the medium-sized factions. Now, its status was in name only, bereft of true power.

The burden upon Illusory Qianyin’s shoulders was immense. The former sect master had vanished long ago, fate unknown; for over a century, she alone had held the sect together—who could fathom the bitterness she endured?

Even the annual disciple recruitment was met with obstruction by other sects, forcing her to seek new disciples in small, remote villages.

Illusory Qianyin gazed at the starlit sky, a hint of sorrow on her face as she sighed, “Master, where are you? Xiaoyin can hardly hold on any longer.”

“Sect Master? Are you thinking of Master Linglong again?”

Illusory Qianyin’s expression returned to its customary coldness. “Xiao Bing, when this girl wakes, bring her to see me,” she said lightly.

With a wave of her sleeve, she drifted away like a wisp of cloud.

“Yes,” replied the young woman called Xiao Bing.

My name is Murong Bing, a Golden Core cultivator and the chief of the first generation of disciples. Thirty years ago, my childish mischief led me to become trapped in the Illusory Mist Forest. Starving and near death, I was rescued by the Sect Master, who happened to be gathering herbs nearby.

In gratitude, I joined the Xuan Yin Sect and have remained here for three decades. Though the sect is weak, I have never resented its decline. Once I entered its ranks, I pledged to never leave.

“Ah, the Sect Master shoulders too great a burden. She handles all the sect’s affairs herself. It’s all my fault for lacking the strength to help her,” Murong Bing muttered in self-reproach.

She knew that every day, the Sect Master would gaze from the Cliff of Distant Skies in the rear mountains—not simply to enjoy the view, but to await the return of the former sect master: Illusory Linglong.

The Xuan Yin Sect had a rule: upon succession, each new sect master must take the surname “Illusory.” It was said the founding matron established this tradition in memory of a certain individual, though the details were unclear—Illusory Qianyin had mentioned it only once, in a drunken moment.

Looking at the little girl lying on the ice bed, Murong Bing knew this child possessed extraordinary talent—otherwise, the Sect Master would never have used the Millennium Profound Ice Bed to heal her.

The mysterious pressure that had descended yesterday had truly frightened her. Of all the cultivators she had ever seen, none could compare to that overwhelming presence.

Even the secluded Sect Master was forced to break her meditation early, casting her divine sense outward and discovering the source was very near the sect. They hurried to the spot and found the unconscious little girl lying on the ground.

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With a single glance, the Sect Master discerned the girl’s Celestial Root, and with so many rival sect cultivators converging on the area, she swiftly spirited the girl away herself, using the Sky-Piercing Shuttle—one of the three great spirit treasures of the Xuan Yin Sect—to return to the sanctuary.

“A Celestial Root, little sister… I hope you can lead the Xuan Yin Sect back to its former glory,” Murong Bing murmured to herself, gently touching Xia Yu’s chubby, baby-soft cheek.

Barring any surprises, this little girl would surely be raised as the Sect Master’s chosen successor.

Xia Yu drifted through a long dream—she saw herself stabbed to death, lying cold and abandoned on the ground. In another moment, a burly man was pummeling her mercilessly, his intentions clearly sinister.

“No, I don't want that—go away!”

Sweat beaded on Xia Yu’s brow as she tossed and turned atop the ice bed, her hands flailing, frightened cries escaping her lips.

Suddenly, her entire body flushed red, waves of searing heat pouring from her pores.

“Ah… So hot… Too hot…”

She writhed and rolled on the bed, her suffering written plainly on her face.

Meditating nearby, Murong Bing’s eyes snapped open when she sensed the change. In a flash, she glided to Xia Yu’s side like a descending fairy.

Looking at the little girl, red as fire and wracked with pain, Murong Bing was at a loss, fear gripping her heart.

The scorching waves of heat stung her cheeks; panic overcame her.

Even the Millennium Profound Ice Bed, a spirit treasure, could not quell the oppressive heat filling the chamber. What more could she do?

“What should I do? Right—call the Sect Master!”

With slender fingers, she traced a sigil in the air—a golden light flared. “Sect Master, the little girl is in trouble—please come quickly,” she called, channeling her true essence into the talisman, which vanished into the void in an instant.