The Heaven-Enshrouding Ding swelled with a pulse of light until it had grown large enough for a person to sit in. Mo Jian made a gesture, pointing at it with two fingers, and the lid flew off with a clang, revealing blue fire within. At his side hovered a dull block of iron—rough and unshaped. He pointed at it, and the iron flew into the ding, landing in the fire with a soft ring and scattering embers in the air. The lid dropped back down over the cauldron’s open mouth, sealing it shut, and Mo Jian sat down with an exhale, focusing on refining the spiritual iron into Bin Steel.

  The process wasn’t complicated. All it required was time, as the flames within the cauldron would refine the iron until it was free of impurities and imbue qi into every particle of its structure. Depending on the grade of the spiritual iron, the cultivator’s refining skill, their cultivation level, and the grade of their tools, the resulting Bin Steel would vary in quality. As a late-stage Core Formation cultivator with a natal artifact particularly suited for alchemy, Mo Jian’s Bin Steel was generally of high quality. It always emerged marked with clear, snowflake-like patterns—the signature of well-refined Bin Steel—which was why high-grade batches were often called Divine Ice Steel.

  Bin Steel itself was extremely durable and an almost perfect conductor of qi, serving as the base material for countless spiritual artifacts and magic tools. Mo Jian could either sell the finished product for a neat profit or keep it for his own use, depending on the situation. In this case, he was refining it for his disciple, Bai Ning, who would use it to craft magic tools for herself before they ventured together to the Ming family auction in two months time.

  Outside the cauldron, the world fell quiet.

  Within the sealed ding, the blue flames roared softly—steady and patient. Mo Jian closed his eyes and extended a thread of divine sense into the artifact, monitoring the process without interfering. The spiritual iron had already begun to soften, its coarse structure slowly breaking down as impurities rose like vapor to the inner surface of the lid.

  Time passed.

  He remained still, his breathing slow and even. Each cycle of breath matched the rhythm of the refining flame. In truth, he could have accelerated the process—poured in more qi, increased the flame's intensity—but he didn’t. Haste introduced flaws, and this batch was for Bai Ning. She deserved his best work.

  He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.

  A shimmer of heat rose from the lid of the ding, faint against the still air of the cave. The Heaven-Enshrouding Ding required no external heat source—it fed directly on his qi, drawing from his core like a second heart. It was both burden and bond, tied to him since the day he had formed his golden core.

  A footstep echoed from deeper in the cave. Light, but deliberate.

  He didn’t turn. “You’re early.”

  “I couldn’t focus,” came Bai Ning’s cheery voice. “Is that the Bin Steel?”

  Mo Jian didn’t sigh, though he was tempted. “Not yet. Soon.” He paused. “Come here. Watch.”

  She stepped beside him and lowered herself into a seated position—legs crossed, hands resting in her lap.

  Inside the ding, the fire danced in irregular pulses, almost like a heartbeat. Faint motes of silver drifted through the air, escaping from the seams of the lid. Bai Ning’s eyes widened.

  “That smell…” she murmured. “It’s like snow melting on stone.”

  Mo Jian gave a small nod. “That’s the impurity burning away. The scent of clean steel.”

  They sat in silence as the fire continued its work. Eventually, Mo Jian raised his hand and pointed at the cauldron. With a low hum, the lid began to glow, then slowly lifted into the air, revealing the interior. A pale silver light shone from within the ding. The iron inside had transformed—no longer dull or heavy, but gleaming with a cold, crystalline sheen. Snowflake-like patterns were etched across its surface.

  Bai Ning inhaled sharply. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s ready,” Mo Jian said.

  He extended his fingers, and the refined Bin Steel rose from the flame, hovering in the air. With another gesture, it floated to a prepared jade case beside him and settled inside.

  The lid closed with a soft click. Time to start making Bai Ning’s magic tools.

  …………..

  Two months later, Mo Jian and Bai Ning finally arrived at Jadeflame Island—and they were far from alone.

  Mo Jian hadn’t seen a real traffic jam since his former life on Earth, but this spectacle came close. The skies above the island were choked with movement, a riot of color and motion: cultivators riding swords that trailed burning arcs of qi, grand cloudships the size of palaces gliding through the air, and ornate flying carriages pulled by fearsome spirit beasts. Cultivators filled the air in a chaotic tide; like a swarm of ants converging on a single crumb of sugar—frenzied, relentless, unstoppable.

  The sea below was no less crowded. Vast spirit turtles lumbered through the waves, bearing mansions on their shells. Sleek ships and ancient wooden junks jostled for space beside cultivators calmly floating atop giant lotus flowers. Even a stone giant, easily a hundred feet tall, trudged through the knee-deep waves with a fortress chained to its back, each thunderous step sending ripples through the sea.

  The very air shimmered with power. Foundation Establishment cultivators flew past in every direction, as numerous as common folk in a city street. Mo Jian sensed close to fifty Core Formation experts, their powerful auras unhidden, like beacons lighting the sky.

  This wasn’t just an event—it was a convergence. Possibly the largest gathering the Thousand Shattered Islands had seen in a generation.

  Beside him, Bai Ning gaped at the scene, eyes wide, mouth open in awe. Mo Jian, only a tad more composed, reminded himself this was only the beginning. In the cultivation world, there were sights far grander than this. But for her, it made sense—this was likely the first time she’d ever seen so many powerful cultivators in one place.

  Jadeflame Island was the seat of the Ming family. Known not only for its sprawling palaces and treasure vaults, it was also home to the greatest auction house in the Thousand Shattered Islands.

  The Myriad Possibilities Auction House had earned its name by selling everything from rare pills to near-mythical artifacts. Ming Taishou, the Ming family’s patriarch, had built it himself, then lifted it into the sky with his own hands—or so the stories claimed.

  The structure towered above the island: a square tower that rose a hundred stories high, each level slightly narrower than the one below. Gold-tiled eaves curled at each corner, and inky-black lacquer gleamed in the sunlight. Gauzy curtains fluttered at the windows, and warm light spilled from within, soft and inviting. Bathed in the midday sun, the auction house looked like something out of legend—a palace fit for the Jade Emperor himself to convene with the Thunder Gods.

  Bai Ning all but vibrated with excitement as they descended. Ever since she had reached Foundation Establishment, Mo Jian had eased his strict oversight, allowing her to explore the world beyond his mountain abode. Now, she was seeing the stories of her childhood come to life. Auction houses, in particular, featured prominently in those stories—tales of underdog heroes stumbling upon priceless treasures sold for a pittance, fortunes found through sheer luck.

  She knew, of course, that life was rarely so accommodating. Still, just being part of an auction like this was enough to stir her curiosity. She turned toward Mo Jian, who hovered silently before the grand structure. Even he looked faintly eager—his normally unreadable expression touched with anticipation. They floated side by side, both unsupported in the air, while below them, lesser cultivators bustled along the busy streets.

  Suddenly, a red streak of light shot from the top floor of the auction house and stopped sharply in front of them. It resolved into a voice transmission talisman and a jade badge. A calm, courteous voice issued from the talisman:

  “So, it is Fellow Daoist Mo Jian and Fairy Bai Ning. Welcome, esteemed guests of the Myriad Possibilities Auction House. I am Elder Ming Changge, and I am honored to greet you. While the auction will begin in two days, accommodations have been arranged. The jade badge lists all unclaimed residences nearby and will allow you to control the formation restrictions within. Please select whichever suits you best. I hope we may share a cup of tea after the auction concludes.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The talisman flared briefly, then dissolved into motes of light.

  Mo Jian caught the jade badge mid-air. He and Bai Ning offered a respectful salute toward the top floor, then began their descent into the heart of Jadeflame Island.

  The moment their feet touched the ground, Bai Ning’s head swiveled in every direction. The street beneath them was a wide, polished stone avenue, lined with floating lanterns and tall banners bearing the emblem of the Ming family: a blazing golden sun rising over waves. Shops and inns bustled with activity. Cultivators in silks, leathers, and armor moved through the streets, their robes fluttering and qi-sheathed weapons gleaming at their sides.

  She caught glimpses of rare spirit beasts tethered to posts outside taverns, artifacts suspended in display windows behind shimmering defensive arrays, and street performers conjuring small illusions to entertain those waiting in line for registration. The scent of roasting spirit beast meat and spiced tea filled the air.

  “This is incredible,” Bai Ning whispered.

  Mo Jian didn’t respond immediately. He was already studying the jade badge, eyes scanning the softly glowing script that hovered just above its surface. Dozens of options for lodging appeared—each detailed with location, size, spiritual vein quality, and available amenities. Some were secluded villas tucked into quiet groves, others were elegant multi-story guesthouses right along the main road.

  “This one,” he said finally, pointing to a location near the northern cliffs, just beyond the bustle but still within walking distance of the auction tower. “It’s quiet and out of the way.”

  He pressed his qi into the badge, and a soft chime sounded. A flicker of golden light shot into the air, marking the property as claimed.

  They followed the path toward their chosen residence, passing through one of the many archways that branched away from the central avenue. The crowd thinned as they walked, and soon they stood before a modest but refined courtyard estate. Pale stone walls framed a small garden of spirit grass and plum trees that shimmered faintly with qi.

  The entrance opened at their approach, recognizing the jade badge. A formation pulsed briefly, then faded, allowing them through.

  Inside, the air was calm. The spiritual energy here was dense and clean, humming just beneath the surface. Bai Ning stepped into the main hall and exhaled in quiet relief.

  “Not bad for a temporary stay,” she said, admiring the intricate woodwork and the elegant formation patterns inlaid on the floor.

  Mo Jian gave a small nod. “Better than most sect guest quarters. Still, we should be cautious.”

  He flicked his sleeve, and the Heaven Enshrouding Ding flew out, no larger than a grape. It shimmered once, then split into five identical copies. Each morphed into a formation flag, their dark-blue cloth etched with black patterns that twisted faintly with qi. The flags shot into the air, planting themselves at the edges of the residence in a perfect circle.

  A dome of light flared silently into existence, gradually sealing itself over the residence. For a moment, the boundary shimmered like glass catching the sun, then dimmed and vanished from sight.

  Mo Jian recalled the Ding with a gesture, and it snapped back into his hand before disappearing into his sleeve again.

  Bai Ning didn’t waste a second. She’d been holding back ever since they had learned about the auction. Now, after nearly two months of dodged questions, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

  “Master, we’re here now,” she said, leaning forward with a glint in her eye. “So, what do you think they’ll ask you to do? And have you already picked a reward? Maybe some legendary treasure from the Ming family vaults? Or—” her voice turned playful, “—perhaps a rare gift for your charming and ever-dutiful disciple?” She gave him a wink, entirely unbothered by how obvious her fishing was.

  Mo Jian snorted. “Nothing like that. And if the Ming family had a true legendary artifact in their vaults, they wouldn’t be auctioning it off.” He hesitated, then added, “We’re here because it’s a good opportunity. One I don’t want to miss.”

  Seeing her still waiting, arms crossed and clearly not satisfied, he continued more directly. “Alright, yes. I did give some thought to what to pick. There’s an item on the auction list—a map. It supposedly leads to the ruins of an ancient cultivator’s abode.”

  Bai Ning leaned back, eyebrows raised. “An ancient cultivator ruin? Why is it being auctioned off, then? I’d imagine whoever found it would stand to gain far more by exploring it themselves. The wealth left behind by someone from that era would probably outstrip anything we have now.”

  She wasn’t wrong. The Shattering had been a cataclysmic era that tore the cultivation world apart. Great sects vanished overnight, divine techniques were lost, and entire bloodlines were erased. The sheer magnitude of knowledge and cultivation wisdom that disappeared during that war to end all wars had set the world back by millennia.

  Even now—four thousand years later—modern cultivators were still struggling to reclaim what had been lost. As a result, ruins from the pre-Shattering era were considered priceless. The chance to uncover forgotten techniques, immortal inheritances, or even just rare spirit herbs was enough to drive cultivators to risk life and limb. Dangerous formations, cursed traps, soul-devouring beasts—none of it mattered if the rewards promised advancement, power, or a breakthrough.

  “This case is different,” Mo Jian replied. “The map allegedly points to a ruin, yes—but no one’s been able to decipher it so far. Most of the text is written in some unknown script, with only a few fragments in the common tongue. For now, it’s more of a curiosity than a true treasure.”

  He gave her a pointed look. “That’s why it’s being auctioned off. The current owner probably gave up trying to crack it and decided to let someone else throw their time and resources at the problem.”

  Bai Ning’s eyes lit up. “I know you, Master—you’re not the type to chase rumors. You must have a clue, right? That’s why we’re here.”

  Mo Jian nodded easily.

  In truth, he already knew exactly where the map led. The moment he saw it listed in the auction registry, recognition struck. It had appeared in the novel. In the original story, the protagonist had stumbled upon the map, deciphered the ancient language, and discovered that it led to a hidden realm from the pre-Shattering era. Inside that realm were countless rare treasures: extinct spirit beasts, spirit plants aged a thousand years or more, and ancient artifacts—but one prize stood above all else—a Netherworld Scorpion.

  Mo Jian intended to claim it.

  The Netherworld Scorpion was a miraculous spirit beast—ethereal, illusory, and said to tread that narrow line between life and death as naturally as birds flew or fish swam. It was capable of bringing its master back to life once, regardless of how they died. Such a creature, if its existence became known, would ignite a bloodbath among cultivators across the entire empire, even the mainland. Everyone would covet it, hoping to refine it into an artifact spirit.

  He planned to keep it quiet—and to give it to Bai Ning.

  It had been the protagonist’s opportunity in the original story—but this wasn’t fiction anymore. This was real life, and Mo Jian had already decided that he was no longer content to let events unfold as they had in the book. He had a duty to protect and prepare his disciple for what lay ahead, no matter how much the future twisted from its original path. The hero had plot armor. Mo Jian only had himself.

  And if he had to steal fate from another’s hands to secure Bai Ning’s future, then so be it.

  Bai Ning grinned at his easy admittance. “So, how’d you find out about it, Master? Did you recognize the script? Or did you pick up a clue somewhere?”

  Mo Jian flashed a guileless smile. “Luck.”

  Bai Ning’s grin fell flat. “Ugh. Again? That excuse is getting really old, Master. You can tell me, you know. It’s not like I’m going to betray you.”

  She crossed her arms. “Seriously—how do you keep finding these miraculous opportunities? First it was the Star Iron, then the Tribulation Lightning-Struck Tree, then the Fire-Hued Frozen Grass. No one’s going to believe you just stumble across all this!”

  It was a fair point. The truth, of course, was that Mo Jian wasn’t from this world—he was a transmigrator, and this world had once been the setting of a book he’d read in his previous life. He was simply taking advantage of opportunities he remembered from the book. But he had no plans to ever reveal that truth, not even to Bai Ning.

  “Luck” would remain his excuse.

  Still, he trusted her enough not to invent a more elaborate lie. And she trusted him enough not to press further—at least, not yet.

  “Luck,” he said again, with a shrug.

  She sighed, throwing her hands up. “One day, I’m going to get a real answer from you.”

  But she didn’t press further, either.

  ………………………..

  The next morning, dawn broke over Jadeflame Island in streaks of gold and crimson, casting long shadows over the streets and stone-paved plazas below. A soft mist rolled in from the ocean, blurring the edges of rooftops and lantern-lit signs, making the island feel like it was floating between worlds.

  Mo Jian sat cross-legged in the inner courtyard, eyes closed, breath steady. The qi in the morning air here was especially dense—no doubt the result of the Ming family’s spiritual vein enhancements. What had started as a habit to keep Bai Ning company during her meditations had gradually become his own routine. A quiet hour each day to clear the mind and temper the spirit. It was peaceful and grounding.

  A soft shuffle behind him announced Bai Ning’s arrival. She padded into the courtyard, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and holding a steaming cup of tea. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her robes were still rumpled from sleep.

  “Were you cultivating all night, Master?” she asked, offering the cup.

  “Hardly,” Mo Jian said, taking it with a nod of thanks. “Just preparing for the day. Our hosts were kind enough to deliver a detailed set of instructions… sometime around midnight.”

  His voice stayed calm, but a flicker of amusement passed through him. He couldn’t help it—some small part of him was enjoying this. It stirred an old memory from Earth, of pretending to be James Bond as a child, sneaking around with toy gadgets and whispered codewords. For the briefest moment, he almost smiled.

  Bai Ning made a face. “In the middle of the night?”

  Then her eyes lit up. “Wait—did it say anything about shady dealings under moonlight? Maybe you have to rescue a kidnapped heir who’ll reward us with a life-changing cultivation technique?”

  Mo Jian gave her a long look.

  Perhaps it was time to start curating the kinds of jade slip stories she was consuming. Most jade slips could be crafted to immerse the reader so deeply, it felt more like living the tale than simply reading it—and Bai Ning had clearly been living quite a few.

  Food for thought. But later.

  “No kidnapped heirs,” he said at last. “Though, I’ll admit… there are some shady dealings involved.”

  Bai Ning beamed like she’d won an argument. “Ha! I knew it.”

  Mo Jian sipped his tea, wondering if, perhaps, he was the one being unrealistic. Considering how things kept unfolding, her books were starting to seem eerily accurate.

  Still, amusing distractions aside, the day had begun. The instructions from Elder Ming required him to visit multiple locations across the island and speak with several “interested parties.” Code, no doubt, for subtle negotiations and information gathering.

  The sooner he started, the sooner he could be done.