Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 115: Ch-115: Not Yet

Chapter 115: Ch-115: Not Yet

Tian Shen stood atop the Azure View Pavilion, hands resting on the wooden railing as he watched a group of Scout Division disciples descend the cliff path below.

The gentle rustle of bamboo echoed in the distance, and the sky above Feilun Sect shimmered with streaks of spirit cranes migrating toward the eastern horizon—a sign of late spring’s end and the start of a new summer.

The scout disciples moved with caution, packs strapped tight, formation flags fluttering, guided by the ever-enthusiastic Xu Wei—now deemed the "Unluckiest Scout" by his peers.

"Off to the Glimmerwind Basin again?"

A soft voice asked behind him.

He didn’t need to turn.

"Yin’er."

Feng Yin stepped beside him, her arms filled with scrolls and a steaming cup of honeyed spirit tea, which she handed over without comment.

"They’re quite eager."

She said, nodding toward the scouts below.

"They’re bored," Tian Shen corrected, sipping the tea. "No bandits. No incursions. Even the rogue beasts seem to be hibernating early."

Feng Yin smirked.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Tian Shen gave a mock groan.

"It’s unnatural. Even peace is suspicious now. Afterall that happened, peace doesn’t fit right with me."

"But you still fight for it, don’t you."

She replied cozily.

He didn’t deny it.

...

Rumors had begun to circulate across the central region, their part of the region to be precise.

Whispers carried by passing merchant caravans, itinerant scholars, and drunk old sword cultivators at back-alley taverns.

They spoke of a Secret Realm—unmapped, unnamed, and unstable—that had apparently appeared in the borderlands between the Central Region and the Eastern Region.

They called it the ’Hidden Sky Vault’.

Some claimed it was a palace floating above the clouds.

And still others swore they’d glimpsed a doorway etched in jade light atop the bones of a fallen titan.

No sect had officially confirmed its existence.

Yet already, ambitious rogue cultivators and wandering adventurers had begun to vanish in pursuit of it.

Feilun’s inner council had met twice in closed halls to discuss it, and even Elder Su had scribbled down enough notes to fill half a library wing—though she ultimately declared most of the accounts "utter nonsense."

"Hidden Vaults don’t just appear," she told Tian Shen over a bowl of shredded root stew. "Not unless someone makes them."

Tian Shen didn’t disagree.

In the vast world of cultivation, where strength, spiritual enlightenment, and cosmic law intertwine, Secret Realms—also known as Mystic Realms, Hidden Realms, or Pocket Dimensions—serve as pivotal narrative catalysts.

These are isolated, self-contained domains created or sealed away by ancient cultivators or long-dead gods.

They function as trials, treasure troves, and turning points, often surfacing at crucial moments to challenge the fate and ambition of cultivators.

Typically, the emergence of a secret realm is heralded by omens—celestial disturbances, artifact activation, ancestral memories surfacing, or unexplained shifts in spiritual energy.

Word spreads quickly among the world’s cultivators, prompting sects, clans, and rogue cultivators to converge in a race for entry.

Often, access is restricted: some realms demand specific bloodlines, spiritual marks, ancient tokens, or the completion of Dao-based trials.

Cultivators often gains entry through fate, inheritance, or sheer determination—signifying the start of a major evolution in their cultivation journey.

These realms serve as crucibles. Fortunes and fates are forged and broken within. Sacred techniques, rare alchemical ingredients, divine artifacts, or even sentient remnants of ancient immortals may be hidden within, left behind as legacies or traps.

Cultivators often experience rapid growth, not just in cultivation base, but in insight—comprehending laws of nature, mastering soul arts, or awakening bloodline powers.

However, secret realms are seldom benevolent. Limited time, spatial collapse, or awakened guardians ensure that not all who enter will return.

Treachery is common—alliances shift, betrayals unfold, and survival becomes the first priority.

Some are left behind, others transformed beyond recognition, and a rare few reemerge as dragon among men.

When the realm collapses or seals again, those who exit are not the same. Their newfound power draws the eyes of the world.

But perhaps more importantly, they carry secrets—clues about ancient histories, buried truths, or cosmic threats. These revelations ripple through the cultivation world, changing the power structure and sowing seeds for future arcs.

Ultimately, secret realms function as mythic mirrors of the Dao, where the inner path meets the outer world.

They are both plot device and philosophical proving ground—where strength, destiny, and belief are tested.

Through them, the cultivation journey is no longer just about power—it becomes a quest for truth, legacy, and transcendence.

...

In the Scout Division’s study hall, the latest batch of maps and reports were pinned across a central table. Tian Shen leaned over them with several division members, brow furrowed.

"This ridge," said Jun Lin, a sharp-eyed scout with a flair for geo-runes. "That’s where the mist anomaly was spotted. No spirit beasts dared to cross it."

"And this section," added Yi Fen, marking a triangle. "We picked up a reading like fragmented Qi—cut, rewoven, then dispersed."

Tian Shen nodded, tracing the points with a fingertip.

"Someone’s trying to hide something. But not from everyone—just those who aren’t paying attention."

A long silence followed. Finally, Xu Wei leaned in.

"So... we’re going?"

"No."

Tian Shen said flatly.

"Not yet."

The scouts looked disappointed, but not surprised.

"There’s no clear evidence it even exists."

Tian Shen added.

"Only rumors and vanishing fools. Until we know what lies beyond that mist, we’re not poking a hole in the world and jumping through."

He glanced at each of them, gaze steady.

"That’s not caution. That’s discipline."

The room quieted with understanding and respect.

...

Back in their residence, Feng Yin hung her outer robe beside the screen door and loosened her hair, sighing as the scent of medicinal ink and talisman smoke clung to her fingers.

"You’re not tempted?"

She asked as Tian Shen stretched out on the bamboo mat, a spirit beast tail fan wafting lazily above him.

"Of course I am," he said. "Secret realms mean treasure. Forbidden techniques. Mysterious enemies. Just the usual."

"Don’t forget inexplicable traps and brain-dead cultivators trying to tame ghosts."

Feng Yin added wryly.

He grinned.

"My favorite genre."

They both laughed softly.

Then he grew serious.

"If the Hidden Sky Vault is real... it didn’t just appear. Someone triggered it or designed it, placed it. That fragment we have—it hasn’t made a sound in six months. And I don’t believe that’s a good thing."

Feng Yin’s smile faded.

"You think it’s connected?"

"I don’t know. But if we’re going to find out, I’d rather not go charging into a realm that could eat time, bend space, or trap our souls in a lotus painting."

She leaned down beside him, brushing her fingers along his collarbone.

"Then we wait and watch. Let the others stumble."

"And pick up their gains(attributes)."

He said absently.

Feng Yin snorted.

"Always the scavenger."

"Cultivation starts with picking up gains(attributes)."

Tian Shen replied, grinning.

...

Elsewhere in the sect, Little Mei crouched atop the roof of the archive tower, chewing on a dried peach as she listened to two outer sect disciples chat below.

"...They said a whole sect vanished. Just gone. Left behind empty robes and a single footprint in the clouds."

Little Mei blinked.

"Oh?"

She whispered, tail swaying.

A week earlier, she’d sniffed a scroll courier from the Thunder Cloud Clan that reeked of spatial tear residue—normally only present when someone poked the fabric of realms with unstable techniques.

She hadn’t told Tian Shen.

Not yet.

Mostly because she wanted to poke it herself first.

...

Lian Hua, too, had been busy. Between lecturing on flame control and helping Elder Su categorize the Vault rumors, she’d begun compiling a comparative rune matrix.

Her hypothesis—the Vault’s outer walls, if they existed, mirrored an old mythical array used by the long-extinct Celestial Lock Sect.

"Don’t you find it interesting."

She said to Elder Su.

"that they disappeared right after the Eastern War? And now this Vault appears with a gate shaped like a crescent moon?"

Elder Su didn’t respond at first. After pondering for a while, she said.

"Draw it again."

...

Despite growing whispers, the leadership of Feilun Sect remained composed. The Sect Master issued no orders.

Elder Su dispatched quiet observation teams under protective layers of stealth.

Tian Shen’s Scouts continued their fieldwork—mapping shifts, monitoring spiritual anomalies, and listening.

They weren’t running toward the Vault.

They were watching the world run to it.

...

On the fourteenth night of the month, Tian Shen sat alone in the inner courtyard, a brush in hand, talisman parchment spread before him.

Fireflies floated lazily in the air. The moon cast long shadows across the stone tiles.

He wasn’t working on a formation or a new trap.

Just a simple ward. One for safety. Another for memory.

His thoughts drifted.

The Sect was peaceful.

His companions were safe.

But the world was stirring again. The quiet before a storm he didn’t yet understand.

But he didn’t move.

He set the brush down slowly, folded the talisman, and tucked it into his sash.

Then he stood, looked to the stars, and smiled.

"Not yet," he whispered to the sky. "We’re not done preparing."