Chapter 4: Gazing at the Tides, Dividing the Heavens

Madam Sujin’s lessons continued until nightfall.

Yanran and Qingran had finished their studies early and retired to their rooms, leaving Siyue to return alone, carrying her things. Lingzhi was practicing embroidery with a hoop, and Siyue glanced at the dense rows of stitches, feeling immediately daunted.

“Look at you, so absentminded. As a maid to the young master, you must master needlework. If you don’t practice now, how will you ever improve?” Lingzhi noticed Siyue’s reluctance and tried to persuade her.

“I understand, but there’s also poetry and music. I haven’t even begun those!” Siyue recalled that, besides the cultivation lessons, there were skill classes to pass as well. Coming from the modern world, where few ever learned embroidery, being suddenly required to start practicing left Siyue feeling overwhelmed.

Lingzhi saw the despair in Siyue’s eyes and chuckled, handing her another embroidery hoop. “Don’t worry, there are still two years. Start with something simple. By the way, why did your first class take so long today?”

“My cultivation method is more demanding. Madam went over many key points, so by the time she finished, it was late.” Siyue poked her needle aimlessly at the white cloth.

Lingzhi paused in her stitching and asked, “Which method did you choose?”

“The Cloud Sea Sword Manual.”

Lingzhi hesitated. “That sword manual requires furnace tempering! Are you really going to attempt it? I’ve heard even grown men can’t endure it.”

“Yes. What about you? Which did you choose?”

“I have dual spiritual roots; my aunt advised me to learn the Rejuvenation Art.”

Siyue nodded inwardly. The Rejuvenation Art suited Lingzhi well.

At midnight, Lingzhi lay beneath her quilt, not nearly as happy as the night before. She glanced at Siyue, fast asleep, then quietly took out the “Secret Manual of the Pure Maiden,” hidden in her embroidery frame. Face flushed, she silently recited the incantations.

Lingzhi hadn’t lied to Siyue—her aunt had indeed suggested the Rejuvenation Art. But that method was obscure and far less straightforward than the Pure Maiden’s Manual. Lingzhi was also tempted by the manual’s promise to make the body supple. Ever since she’d seen a little maid from the Music Bureau dance, the image of that graceful form had been imprinted in her mind. As a young maid with neither the time nor energy to learn such skills, Lingzhi deeply envied that grace.

In the end, Lingzhi chose to cultivate the Pure Maiden’s Manual.

Siyue, lying in bed, opened her eyes. She walked to the window, gently lifted the frame, and glanced outside—just in time to see the manual in Lingzhi’s hands.

The next morning, Lingzhi awoke to find Siyue already out of bed. Her first instinct was to check her embroidery frame; seeing the manual still there, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“How lazy you are today. Usually, you’re up early, but today you’re late. Here’s breakfast.” Siyue entered with a bowl and set it on the table.

Lingzhi felt a flush of shame. “Thank you, Ayue,” she murmured, then set about eating diligently.

“I’m off to class. Finish up and hurry along,” Siyue said, glancing at Lingzhi’s stiff posture and the manual hidden in the embroidery frame. With a sigh, she left.

The morning’s foundational lessons passed uneventfully. In the afternoon, Madam Sujin didn’t appear. She was busy preparing the medicinal ingredients for furnace tempering—not just for Siyue, but for two other young maids who had also chosen the Cloud Sea Sword Manual.

For the next two days, Siyue was assigned to self-study.

Strangely, Siyue felt a sense of relief. The reason was simple: cultivating the Cloud Sea Sword Manual required forty-nine days of furnace tempering, but the system’s task allowed only thirty days. To complete the first level, body refinement was just the beginning; she would also need to master the sword intent, using it as the spirit to guide her training.

In other words, Siyue would have to complete the entire first level of cultivation inside the alchemical furnace.

“This really makes me Sun Wukong—will I emerge with fiery eyes, I wonder?” Siyue thought, recalling the grueling process ahead. Soon, she would practically be living in the furnace.

She had two days left before entering the furnace—time she had to use to reclaim her sword intent from her previous life.

Sword intent was an elusive concept. Some said it was spiritual power transformed, others, the manifestation of a cultivator’s will and spirit. In truth, both were correct. Though all sword cultivators shared a path, they differed in their approach.

Some first advanced in their inner methods, then fused their understanding of the Dao with the sword, eventually forming sword intent—these were called Spiritual Sword Cultivators, adept at both spells and swordsmanship.

Others first grasped their personal sword path, then sought a compatible inner method—these were Intent Sword Cultivators, whose expertise lay solely in swordsmanship.

In terms of sheer power, Spiritual Sword Cultivators were more balanced and generally stronger.

In her modern life, Siyue had been an Intent Sword Cultivator—she’d had no choice. Possessing four spiritual roots, she could use spells but never mastered them. Modern cultivation resources had dwindled; even improving one’s spiritual roots was out of reach.

Now, in retrospect, being an Intent Sword Cultivator was an advantage.

Siyue picked up a withered branch and approached a massive boulder. She took a deep breath, focused her mind on the branch, then struck at the stone. A faint sound of ocean waves seemed to echo with her movement.

With a crash, the boulder split cleanly in two—the cut smooth and flawless, impossible to achieve with brute force.

Tears fell as Siyue gazed at the broken stone, the fragile branch still in her hand. “How long has it been since I used my sword intent? I nearly forgot, scrubbing chamber pots day after day. Watching the tides, cleaving the heavens—it’s been so long,” she whispered.

She sat beside the stone and began the meditation required to cultivate the sword intent of the Cloud Sea Sword Manual.

Though Madam Sujin had explained the incantations, true practice brought a frown to Siyue’s brow.

As the manual stated, cultivating sword intent began with tempering the spirit. The first level unfolded as a world of illusions—joy, sorrow, bitterness, and sweetness—one had to experience the full range of mortal emotions to successfully fortify their resolve.

Neither elated by material things nor saddened by oneself—steadfast as ancient trees, as enduring as the waves of childhood memory.

Not because all things remain unchanged, but because all things change except the heart that follows the Dao freely.

Siyue saw herself as a child, alone in an alley, covering her master’s corpse with a newspaper—grief. She saw herself, year after year, gazing at the sea from a cliff in hopes of grasping sword intent—hardship. She saw the bitterness of watching other children go to school while she hid and struggled. And finally, the sweetness of becoming a sword cultivator after countless battles.

Then, memories from this life flooded in—scrubbing chamber pots or going hungry…

Siyue: ???

Unlike her previous life, these memories spanned only two months.

“I really can’t let go of the chamber pot ordeal,” she muttered, exasperated.

The illusions produced by the Cloud Sea Sword Manual drew on one’s deepest memories—ordinary recollections were not enough to temper the will.

Having relived all the pain and joy of her past life, Siyue found herself still deeply affected by those emotions. But with continued practice, she discovered she could now face those memories with relative calm.

“They say the immortal can see through the world’s illusions—how true that is. After seeing enough, one does become detached. But my calm comes only from making peace with the past. If I complete the system’s task and return to the modern world, I certainly won’t…”

At this, Siyue’s eyes snapped open. “No, those bastards still need a good beating.”

Annoyed, Siyue pressed her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe I lost focus during meditation.”

She simply lay back on the ground, gazing at the drifting clouds above.

“I wonder how those idiots are faring back in the modern world. Without their boss, have they survived, or just ended up beaten?”

She covered her eyes with her hand, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Shameful, crying at this age. I promised my master I’d never cry again, but I miss them all so much,” she murmured, eyes red.

Forcing herself to rally, Siyue resumed her cultivation of the Cloud Sea Sword Manual.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye. All that remained was to complete her body refinement.

Madam Sujin arrived early, leading Siyue to an alchemy room. As Siyue entered, two others were exiting. They wore white mourning attire, weeping as they carried out a corpse.

The body was small, about Siyue’s size.

Could it be…? Siyue’s pupils contracted as she looked at Madam Sujin.

“Someone began furnace tempering on the first day of class—she was from the Agricultural Office. The teaching matron advised her not to force it. This is the price of stubbornness,” Madam Sujin said, her tone turning angry, though it was unclear at whom— the headstrong girl, or the instructing matron.

Just then, a girl’s cries echoed from within: “I don’t want to do this anymore! Aunt, take me away. I’ll learn the Spirit Locking Art, the Pure Maiden’s Manual, anything—just take me away!”

“Enough. You made your choice, the medicine is already in the furnace. Do you want the estate to waste fifty spirit pearls for nothing?” an older woman’s voice retorted sharply.

At that, Madam Sujin coughed loudly. The woman inside heard her.

“All right, hurry up. Others are waiting for the furnace. If you keep dawdling, the Discipline Office will drag you out, and even I won’t be able to save you.”

Her tone was impatient, and though the girl continued to cry, the sound gradually faded.

Siyue knew two other girls had chosen the Cloud Sea Sword Manual with her, but she hadn’t expected the furnace tempering to be so perilous. After only three days of study, one girl hadn’t survived even that long, taking her own life. The other was so frightened she wanted to quit before even entering the furnace—such a mindset made enduring the pain even less likely.

After a while, a young woman emerged from the alchemy room and bowed to Madam Sujin.

“Today, I’ll personally oversee the furnace. You needn’t stay. I’ll handle the other as well.”

With that, Madam Sujin instructed her and led Siyue inside the alchemy chamber.