“Then please lay down on your stomach. You can use a towel to grit your teeth.” Feiyun Xing handed one to her.

  With a nod, Ren Lin lay down on his bed. A feeling of worry spread in her heart. Why did she have to make this Core bring pain… now the person who created it will get to taste its own medicine.

  “I will pluck a petal and drop it on your neck. It will shock your entire central nervous system, but also strengthen all of your parts.” He poured essence into the Vital Lotus Core. “Ready?”

  “Just do it,” she said, while internally telling herself. “If I can’t take this, all of my future plans will only be a distant dream.”

  “Very well.”

  The first petal touched her neck.

  For a heartbeat—nothing.

  Then her eyes shot wide open. She snatched the towel with a trembling hand and bit down hard. It felt like an armor of thick needles had been forced on every part of her—dozens, hundreds—each stung harshly as from a furious bee.

  Feiyun Xing winced in sympathy.

  “NEXT ONE! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” A muffled shout came through the towel.

  “S–sorry, sorry!”

  The second petal dropped.

  “Urgh—!” Her hands dug into the sheets, twisting the fabric until it nearly tore.

  The third.

  Her legs kicked wildly in the air, her body fighting the shock. Sweat poured down her back.

  The prince hesitated, waiting for the tremors to settle before releasing the next.

  The fourth petal fell. Ren Lin endured, breath ragged but unbroken.

  The fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth.

  By the ninth petal, her vision tunneled—fading to black.

  She blinked, her gaze settling on the bed. It was a pool of green silk, its surface cool and luminous, framed by semi-transparent drapes that turned the room's sheer opulence into a private, breathless sanctuary.

  She stretched lightly, and at once a torrent of strength surged through her limbs, roaring to life as if a dormant dragon had awakened within.

  “I… feel like I’m a superhuman,” she murmured, joy blooming across her face.

  A drowsy yawn drifted from beyond the curtains. “Mm… you are up?” Footsteps padded closer.

  “I’m not merely up,” Ren Lin said with a light laugh. “I’ve been reborn!”

  With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Feiyun Xing pushed his head through the drapes. “Then spare me for now, honored superhuman. I’d rather not be pummeled the moment you rise.”

  “We will see.” She stood out of bed. “How long was I asleep and how many petals did I take?”

  “It’s almost noon. And you took nine out of thirty. Impressive for a mortal.”

  Her brows dipped. “That’s below average.”

  The prince smiled. “It’s only under average for cultivators, it is very impressive for anyone else. You are very tough.”

  “Thank you. When will we go?”

  “Already planning to go without…” He guided her toward a neatly folded set of garments. “These?”

  She drew in a fake gasp. “Feiyun Xing, this is wonderful! Better than I imagined.” Lifting the outfit, she felt the weight of the black outer robe.

  Shortly after, with only the inner layer on, Ren Lin noticed how seamlessly the grey faded into black at the hem. Later, she would put on the outer robe; for now, wearing it would only make her sweat.

  “It suits you very well.” The prince wore a pure white robe with black stars adorning it.

  “You don’t look bad yourself. It reminds me of your hair.”

  “My father always said I got it from my grandfather.”

  “Not only that,” Ren Lin mumbled.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes squinted. “If you say so.”

  Feiyun Xing clasped his hands behind his back, expression shifting into something more serious. “Before we leave, there’s something important I need to explain. But I think you already know: to refine the Obelisk, we must first pass four trials. One on each of the four islands.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Yeah, I was aware.”

  He turned toward the bedside table and picked up a Core—a palm-sized, snake head without teeth. Metallic material, almost transparent, at the end of the mouth lay a misty blue gem.

  “This is a Serpent Cache Core,” he said. “It can store many items. Medicines, rations, clothes—anything. Unlike storage bags, it binds directly to the user.”

  He pressed it against his wrist.

  The Core dissolved into pale light, sinking into his skin. An intricate tattoo unfurled across his forearm—a blue snake head.

  Ren Lin nodded. “Very magical and practical.”

  “With this, I can keep all of our survival needs on me.” He flexed his fingers, and the tattoo glowed faintly before settling. “Healing Cores, warming Cores, antidotes, compressed food, fire starters… everything.”

  “I’m glad. You prepared very fast, yet very carefully. Good job.”

  “That’s what happens when you have an impatient father.” Feiyun Xing headed to the door. “Let’s head out now.”

  But instead of leading her to the main courtyards, he guided her through a series of progressively narrower and less-adorned corridors deep within the palace's foundation. The air grew cooler, the scent of pine and paper replaced by the smell of damp stone and old earth. He stopped before a section of wall that appeared no different from any other, save for a faint, almost invisible seam.

  “This isn’t the main gate,” he explained quietly, placing his palm against the stone. A ripple of essence flowed from his hand, and a section of the wall slid back with a soft grind, revealing a dark, crystalline archway humming with contained power. “This is… a family shortcut. My father likes to control the important things.”

  “And those who are not him control nothing.”

  The voice that came was dry and rough. But the prince immediately recognized it.

  “Master…”

  They turned and a tall, lean figure stood motionless in the shadows, as if he were part of the wall itself. It was Jianfeng Rui, Feiyun Xing’s and even his father’s sword instructor. His arms were crossed with a titanium tagged armband—Fourth Order. His face was etched with an old scar that ran from temple to jaw.

  Master Jianfeng’s gaze was serene. It passed over the prince and settled on Ren Lin, assessing her not as a person, but as a variable. “I have never seen such a rat in my over 300 years of living.”

  “Master—!”

  “Do not.” Jianfeng Rui cut him off, his voice quiet but absolute. “I trained you to see the true thoughts of your opponent. To anticipate a strike before it is thrown. You are not seeing this.”

  “I see it clearly,” Xing retorted, though his voice wavered slightly. “Even my father agreed to this.”

  “I revise my words, then: I’ve seen two rats like her in my lifetime—your father and her. Can’t you see they both use you?”

  “What do I use him for? To drag him to the islands and risk my own death?” Ren Lin snapped.

  “I see the brewing of something ill in your eyes. My instincts warn me. Something is amiss, even if I cannot yet name it.”

  Ren Lin’s anger strengthened Feiyun Xing’s resolve. “Master Rui, please don’t say that. She was there when I needed her most. I don’t go to the Obelisk just because of her—I go for myself.”

  Jianfeng Rui snorted. “You’re not even twenty. A child cannot know what it needs. But one thing I can tell which even you should be aware of: going to the islands is suicide.”

  “Forgive me, Master Rui… I must go.”

  With a heavy sigh, the master turned away. “Speaking to a man trapped in a cave is useless. In the end, he only believes in the shadows others cast for him.” His steps resounded as he left them. “At the latest, on the second island will you realize your grave mistake.”

  A beat passed after his master was gone. Without uttering another word, he offered his hand. Ren Lin took it.

  Then they moved through the gate, the world compressed into a single, breathless moment of pressure and blinding blue light—

  —then a secluded stone chamber. Stairs stood opposite them. Feiyun Xing released her hand and gestured toward it. “Are you ready?”

  Ren Lin’s heart beat crazily. “No, I still can’t believe this is really happening.”

  A laugh erupted from the prince. “We must seem mad to others.”

  They stepped out onto a windswept cliff path. Before them, the true teleportation gate stood at the island’s absolute edge, a massive ring of ancient, weather-smoothed stone that hummed with a low, resonant frequency, far more powerful than the secret passage. The roar of wind below echoed against the cliffs. Feiyun Xing placed a hand on the cold stone, his essence pouring as he activated the runes. The space within the gate moved; warping from a view of the distant islands into a vortex of swirling, white light.

  “Stay close,” he said, before stepping through together.

  The world dissolved into a nauseating rush of color and sound—a sensation of being pulled in every direction at once, yet moving nowhere. It lasted only a moment, but it was long enough for Ren Lin’s newly strengthened body to protest, her stomach lurching.

  Then, silence. And cold.

  Sharp icy air penetrated her lungs, carrying the unmistakable, clean scent of eternal winter.

  They stood on a vast, flat plain of unbroken snow that stretched inside a ring of jagged, ice-capped mountains. Above, silent auroras danced. Ribbons of ethereal green and pale violet shimmered and curled. Thick, gentle flakes of snow fell in a slow, endless dance.

  It was breathtakingly beautiful, and utterly alien.

  Ren Lin inhaled sharply, her breath pluming in the frigid air. The cold bit at her exposed face, a stark contrast to the warmth of the palace. She pulled the grey fur of her collar higher, grateful for the thick garments.

  Feiyun Xing stood beside her, his white-and-starred robes seeming almost to glow in the aurora-light. He scanned the horizon, his expression grimly satisfied.

  “The first island,” he said, his voice low, respectful of the immense quiet. “Bingmeng.”

  “Woah.” Ren Lin took her first step in this powdered snow. Her leg moved faster than expected. The prince saw this and chuckled. “This island has a slightly lower gravity.”

  “It feels as though the world holds me up.”

  Stepping forward, his boots sunk a finger’s depth into the soft snow. “Don’t be fooled by the beauty. Bingmeng is known for its mercy toward no one.”

  Ren Lin followed, her steps light, almost springy in the lower gravity. “Danger only arrives when you hear singing. We need to find the Sui village and then head out of here.”

  “I wonder how anyone could live here.” His breath was visible. “Willingly, at that.”

  “By not wondering,” she replied. “Only accepting.”

  Bingmeng’s cold pressed deeper the longer they walked—its silence felt alive, as if the snow itself watched them. Each step sank softly, leaving crisp prints that were swallowed moments later by drifting flakes.

  Feiyun Xing slowed.

  Ren Lin noticed. “What is it?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze swept across the horizon, then the mountains, then the sky. Nothing. No movement. No sound except the whisper of wind.

  “…Something’s wrong,” he finally said.

  Her gaze traveled around. Everything appeared normal—beautiful, quiet, picturesque. Aurora lights, slow-falling snow, mountains untouched by footsteps.

  Too untouched.

  “Are we being followed?” she whispered.

  “Maybe.” His hand slid to his sword. “But I don’t sense a presence. That’s the strange thing. It’s like something is hiding in the snow.”