Chương 3: Resolve

Mo Jian watched Bai Ning out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of concern tugging at him. She'd been grinning from the moment they'd left the sect, and the smile hadn't faded in the slightest. The only reason she wasn't currently bombarding him with questions was because he'd claimed he needed to concentrate on flying. That was a lie, of course—he could control the Heaven Enshrouding Ding with barely a sliver of focus. But after answering one relentless question after another, he'd needed a break.

What worried him wasn't her curiosity. It was her cheerfulness. He'd expected… well, something else. Hesitation, maybe. Tears, even. She was fourteen, after all, and leaving her home behind to enter what was essentially a glorified boarding school. He had braced himself for emotional goodbyes, teary hugs, perhaps some heartfelt reassurances between her and her parents. Instead, the moment she heard he was willing to take her as a disciple, Bai Ning had practically bounced with excitement.

She had packed in record time and had been ready to leave before he'd even fully agreed. Poor Bai Zhou had looked crushed. He'd opened his arms for a farewell hug, only for his daughter to breeze past him without a glance, completely enraptured by the sight of the Heaven Enshrouding Ding. Zing had pinched the bridge of her nose in quiet exasperation and tried to lecture Bai Ning on proper decorum, but Mo Jian suspected the words had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, they were cruising through the sky at a much more sedate pace than the one Mo Jian had used on his way to the Greater Dharma Sect, heading toward his cave residence. At first, Bai Ning had sat on the ding as stiff as a statue, clearly trying to act the part of a refined young lady. That had lasted all of five minutes. The moment the wind hit her face and the ground shrank beneath them, she had burst into a flurry of questions.

"How far is your cave residence?"

"What kind of awesome cultivation technique are you going to teach me?"

"Can I try flying the ding right now?" That one had earned a very firm, "No."

"Then can you show me how you beat that evil cultivator from yesterday?" And on, and on, and on. Mo Jian had tried to answer patiently—at first. But the truth was, he wasn't used to children. Or their endless energy. After yet another enthusiastic question about his "amazing" fight with Chao Qinzi, he'd finally asked for silence, citing the need to "concentrate" on flying.

Bai Ning had sealed her lips with an exaggerated zipping motion—an oddly modern gesture that should have no business existing in a cultivation world—and fallen dramatically silent. Mo Jian had shaken his head, half-relieved, half-amused. But beneath it all, that flicker of concern remained. He had a nagging feeling that he'd signed up for far more than he'd originally bargained for. They flew in silence for a while—well, relatively silent.

Bai Ning wasn't talking, but she still had the kind of presence that made her hard to ignore. She shifted positions every few minutes, peeking over the edge of the ding, then craning her neck to look up at the clouds, then back down at the sea again like she was trying to memorize every crashing wave they passed. She was vibrating with unspent energy. Mo Jian sighed softly. This —this right here—was why he'd been so reluctant to take on a disciple in the first place.

A proper teacher wouldn't be worn out by a student's endless curiosity; they'd welcome it, use it as a foundation to build lessons, shaping wisdom from enthusiasm like a sculptor with clay. What was he doing, pretending he had anything to teach? Even from the memories he had inherited from the original Mo Jian, his own cultivation journey had been... unconventional. He'd had no official master for most of it, relying on scattered manuals, quiet perseverance, and an instinct for survival.

He wasn't used to sharing knowledge, and he certainly wasn't used to dealing with... this. Bai Ning was like a firecracker tossed into a meditation hall. And he suspected that, in temperament, they were a spectacularly poor match. Her irrepressible energy was the very opposite of his reserved, solitary nature. Also, shouldn't she be a little more wary of him? He was a Core Formation cultivator.

In the world of cultivation, strength dictated everything, and those at Foundation Establishment or below usually treated him with reverence, if not outright fear. Bai Ning, apparently, had not gotten the memo. Eventually, she gave up on being still. She played with her hair, winding a raven-black lock around her finger and trying to braid it in some overly ambitious pattern.

When that got boring, she cupped her hands over her eyes like makeshift binoculars, peering into the distance as if sheer willpower might summon their destination. When, unsurprisingly, no mystical island appeared, she let out a dramatic huff and began to hum. Not loudly—but not subtly either. It was the kind of tuneless, wandering hum a child makes when they're doing their absolute best not to talk. Mo Jian glanced sideways at her.

She caught the look and immediately straightened, assuming a stiff, prim posture and fixing her gaze forward with the dignity of a palace attendant. She lasted all of twenty seconds.

"Are we almost there?" she asked, hopeful and entirely unrepentant.

"About an hour," Mo Jian replied, not unkindly." An hour?" she groaned, flopping backward onto the ding like a tragic heroine in a stage play.

"That's forever."

"It's less time than you probably spend in meditation each day."

"Yes, but that's boring on purpose," she said, dead serious.

"This is boring with potential. Completely different." Mo Jian almost— almost —cracked a smile.

"You'll survive," he said instead. Bai Ning bounced upright again, her violet eyes shining.

"What's your cave like, Master? I mean, the inside. Do you have a training hall? Secret scrolls? A spiritual beast? Oh! Do you have traps?"

"Why would I set traps in my own home?"

"To keep out intruders, obviously." She grinned, clearly pleased with her logic. Mo Jian shook his head, hiding a smile, and turned his gaze back to the horizon. If he pushed the ding, they could arrive in less than fifteen minutes. But there was no urgency, and he didn't want to waste qi unnecessarily. Besides, this gave him time to think—to begin planning his next steps. He had agreed to take Bai Ning on as a disciple, albeit provisionally.

That meant organizing lessons, guiding her through foundational cultivation techniques, and passing on his own experiences. But more importantly, he needed to start looking for someone better suited to train her in the long term—someone who could truly nurture her potential. There was already one name rising to the top of his mind. Still, caution was necessary. The original Mo Jian had never been close to anyone, and trusting half-formed memories was reckless at best.

He would need to investigate first, reach out discreetly, and confirm whether Fan Mei was still the person he remembered. If she was… then perhaps she would be the perfect teacher for Bai Ning after all. They flew on, the vast sea blurring beneath them in shimmering strokes of blue and silver. Every so often, a spiritual beast breached the surface—sleek forms trailing arcs of glowing water qi. Bai Ning would gasp in delight, pointing with both hands like she didn't want him to miss it.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Mo Jian didn't comment. His thoughts remained fixed on the future. They were flying high—well above the range of any sea beast that could pose a threat. This stretch of ocean was known for being peaceful, inhabited mostly by lower-rank creatures. The truly dangerous spirit beasts and demonic monsters lived farther from human territory—in the wild, uncharted waters. Places like the Sword Trench. Or the Abyssal Caverns to the west.

A memory rose unbidden: diving deep into the Abyssal Caverns, hoping to find a Thousand-Year Black Tortoise. He had failed, of course—left empty-handed after days of searching. Still, the image lingered. That submerged world, hundreds of li beneath the sea, teeming with spiritual flora, luminous corals, and ancient creatures. A place of danger, yes, but also of unparalleled beauty. The original Mo Jian had viewed it only as a resource to be mined. But now… Now, he could appreciate the wonder of it.

As the horizon began to break into jagged peaks and scattered islands, Mo Jian slowed the ding's pace further, adjusting its angle. A gentle turn brought them around a tall outcropping of rock veiled in mist, and suddenly, the terrain shifted. The island that emerged was smaller than expected, nestled within a ring of surrounding peaks like a pearl in a hidden shell. Mist clung to the treetops and glided along the surface of the cliffs, giving everything a dreamlike haze.

The qi here was thick—denser than anything at the Greater Dharma Sect. Bai Ning leaned forward, eyes wide with awe.

"Is this it?" Mo Jian nodded.

"Welcome to Cloud Veil Ridge." The ding descended in a smooth spiral, coming to a halt just above a narrow ledge carved into the cliff face. There was no grand sect gate, no guard pavilions or tiled rooftops—only a low stone arch partially swallowed by ivy, and beyond it, a winding path that led deeper into the mountain. The moment her feet touched stone, Bai Ning spun in a slow circle, taking everything in with shining eyes.

"It's so quiet," she whispered.

"Exactly the way I like it," Mo Jian said dryly, stepping past her toward the arch. They passed under the ivy curtain and followed the path. It curved in gentle turns, bordered by mossy stones and glowing spirit lanterns tucked into the rock at intervals. Qi flowed steadily along the ground—subtle, but strong—drawn there by the formation he had placed in the mountain's core.

After a few minutes, the path opened into a natural stone platform, and there, half-sheltered under the mountain's overhang, was Mo Jian's cave residence. A simple stone opening led into a tunnel that twisted out of sight just steps inside, marked only by a faint barrier of shimmering light. Compared to the grandiose caves of some Core Formation or even Foundation Establishment cultivators, it was the epitome of modesty.

Memories of towering jade pagodas, floating formations, and mystical doors that required riddles to open flickered through Mo Jian's mind—reminders of the truly ostentatious and bizarre residences the original had seen. By contrast, his was exceedingly plain. Bai Ning blinked, perhaps expecting something grander, but said nothing as they approached the entrance. The formation parted for them with scarcely a ripple of light.

Mo Jian extended his spiritual sense briefly to sweep the cave, noting it remained unchanged since he had last been here, then ushered Bai Ning inside. Bai Ning stepped inside and stopped short. The interior was far more spacious than she'd expected—cool, dimly lit, and carefully arranged. Stone shelves lined one wall, filled with jade slips, scrolls, and bundles of dried herbs. Meditation cushions rested in quiet corners.

A small, polished table stood at the center, with a brewing set and a faintly steaming teapot already in place. The spiritual pressure inside was stronger here, steady and calming, as if the entire space were designed for stillness.

"This is the main chamber," Mo Jian said.

"The sleeping quarters are to the left. I have a space set aside for training techniques behind the waterfall."

"There's a waterfall?!" He gave her a look.

"It's not decorative." Bai Ning darted off to explore before he could stop her, disappearing behind a hanging curtain of spirit-weaved cloth. Her excited exclamations echoed faintly from the back. Mo Jian sighed but let her go. Better she let out the energy now than during training. He moved to the table and poured himself a cup of tea, the steam curling upward in the quiet air. The cave felt like home. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he certainly didn't feel like a stranger here.

For years, this place had been Mo Jian's sanctuary—no footsteps but his own, no voices but the wind. Now, there was another soul within his body, and the distant sound of someone poking at a water curtain with a stick. It was going to be loud for a while. Still, as he sipped the tea, Mo Jian felt no regret. Whatever force had brought him to this world, it could have been far worse. Setting down his cup, he modulated his qi to suffuse his voice and called out, "Bai Ning, come sit with me.

We should discuss matters—as master and disciple." A few moments later, Bai Ning reappeared, cheeks flushed from her exploration, hair slightly tousled, but eyes sparkling with excitement. She lowered herself beside Mo Jian on a simple stone bench near the table, settling into a surprisingly composed posture.

"So," Mo Jian began, his voice calm but firm, "since you're officially my disciple now, there are a few things we should talk about." Bai Ning nodded eagerly.

"Of course, Master! I'm ready to learn." He studied her for a moment—the eagerness, the restless energy barely contained beneath her composed exterior. She looked like a whirlwind waiting to be unleashed, ready to throw herself at any challenge. But what he was about to ask had nothing to do with training. It was a lesson many cultivators never learned, often to their detriment. Even the original Mo Jian had only understood it late in life.

He had often wished someone had asked him this question years ago, forcing him to answer honestly. Now, as a teacher, he had the chance to do that for his disciple.

"Before we begin any lessons," he said, watching her carefully, "I have an important question for you. Think carefully and answer honestly." Bai Ning's eyes brightened with determination.

"I will, Master." Mo Jian took a slow sip from his tea, then asked, "Why do you cultivate? What drives you to struggle against the heavens?" Bai Ning's forehead creased in thought. She wasn't answering immediately, which was already a good sign. She was taking the question seriously—just as he'd asked. Truthfully, Mo Jian expected something simple: Because everyone does, or Because it's expected of me.

She was only a child, after all—likely imitating her parents, learning what she was taught, doing what everyone else did. For most children, cultivation was just part of life, as ordinary as breathing. And if that was her answer, he wouldn't fault her. Any answer was acceptable, so long as it was honest—so long as she held onto it when the path turned difficult. Because cultivation wasn't merely about absorbing qi from the world and using it to perform miraculous feats. There was a spiritual core to it as well.

Knowing why you cultivated—no matter the reason—was as important as talent or bloodline. Someone driven by a deep determination to right injustice, rise to the top, or seek revenge would always grow faster than someone who did it without any true purpose. Without an answer to guide you, all struggle eventually felt futile. Mo Jian—the original—had learned this lesson too late. He'd cultivated for power, wealth, fame, and influence, but had never admitted it to himself.

Whether out of shame, pride, or plain denial, he'd avoided facing his own desires. Only when he embraced them did his cultivation truly accelerate. Honesty with oneself was fundamental to the dao. You didn't need to be righteous, kind, or even just—only true. After a while, Bai Ning spoke.

"I cultivate to reach the pinnacle of heaven, Master," she said slowly.

"Immortality is real, and with it comes enlightenment. Compared to that, what else matters half as much?" Mo Jian blinked.

"My mother told me that the greatest immortals can ascend to the heavens themselves," she continued, her voice firm.

"I want to stand among them. I want the name Bai Ning to be remembered like Laozi or the Jade Emperor." Then she grinned—wide, bright, fiercely proud.

"No— more famous. Like Erlang Shen or the Great Sage Equal to Heaven." She looked him in the eye, unwavering. Mo Jian saw the spark behind her words—not arrogance, but raw, unshakable belief. She wasn't joking. She wasn't mimicking something she'd heard. This was her truth. Mo Jian was quiet for a moment, surprised. Those weren't the words of a typical fourteen-year-old. Yet every syllable rang with sincerity.

Bai Ning truly wanted to climb to the peak of cultivation—not out of fear, or pressure, or revenge—but because it was possible, and she refused to accept anything less. Maybe I'm the strange one here, Mo Jian thought. As a transmigrator, he didn't share the values of this world or its people. For most cultivators, not striving for immortality would be considered strange. But Mo Jian felt no great yearning to stand atop the world, with his weeping enemies kowtowing to him.

He wasn't here to challenge the heavens or live forever. He simply wanted to live well—and, perhaps, to fix a few regrets not his own. Mo Jian regarded her quietly for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Ambition like that can serve you well, but it can also be dangerous." He set his cup down, his voice serious.

"Many fall chasing glory and immortality, only to lose themselves along the way. There's no point in pursuing immortality if you lose who you are in the process. Hold tight to what drives you—and to yourself. That is the true path to progress." Bai Ning's eyes never wavered.

"I understand, Master. I'm ready." He let out a soft huff.

"Good. Because the path ahead will be long and harsh. You'll face failures, setbacks, and moments when giving up feels easier than pushing forward. But those are the moments that define a cultivator." Standing, he gestured toward the back of the cave, where the waterfall's mist shimmered softly.

"Your training begins tomorrow at dawn. For now, rest and get accustomed to this place. There's much to prepare—both for you and for me." Bai Ning rose eagerly, brushing off her robes.

"I won't disappoint you, Master." Mo Jian gave a small nod, not voicing out aloud what he was truly afraid of. It wasn't the prospect of her failure, it was his. That he would turn out to be an inadequate teacher and somehow ruin the heroine's future. Hopefully not. She would only be with him until he found someone better, and a few months of teachings—at most—should not be enough to distort her path. As Bai Ning's excited footsteps echoed toward her quarters, Mo Jian exhaled slowly.

Well, if he really wanted to find her a better teacher, then it was time to dig through his belongings and see what he could uncover.