Chapter 18: The Weight of Ambition
Fang finally made it back to the hut in the mountains on the evening of the eleventh day. Her Cursed Immortal Root had worked overtime during the trek home, patching up most of her wounds. The deep gashes on her ribs and shoulder had faded into pink scars, and the python venom was gone—swept out of her body like dirty water down a drain. She moved a little stiffly, sure, but compared to a few days ago, she was practically whole. And she brought proof: twenty-eight preserved beast heads, neatly packed away in her storage bag, trophies from a week that felt more like a small lifetime.
She stepped into the familiar clearing and spotted her Master sitting outside the hut, sunlight catching in his hair as he flipped through a battered scroll and sipped his tea. When he looked up, she saw his usual lazy grin blooming across his face.
"Back already?" he drawled, sounding amused. "I figured you'd take all ten days, maybe even crawl back half-dead." He eyed her bloodstained, battered robes and fresh scars. "Looks like you bit off a little more than you could chew, huh?"
She bowed, respectful as always, and set the storage bag down on the table. "I got what you asked for. Twenty-eight heads, all different species. Met a Peak Meridian Opening Mistpython Sovereign and ran into a Shadowfang Wolf pack right at the end. They were too strong. I didn't stick around."
Master leaned forward, sifted through the heads, and nodded. "You even got the Mistpython? Most cultivators at your level would've just ended up dead. And the wolves?"
"I ran," Fang said, not bothering with pride or shame.
Master grunted, almost approvingly. "Good. Knowing when to run is a skill too. Only idiots think bravery means never backing down."
Fang drew herself up straighter, her small fists clenching at her sides. After a moment, she locked eyes with him, and her voice came out fierce.
"Master… I need to reach Core Creation fast. I'm still too weak. Out in the forest, those beasts nearly killed me, and if I'd already reached Core Creation, I wouldn't have had to retreat."
She left the words hanging in the air—too heavy to ignore.
Master paused, suspended mid-sip. His hand barely shook, almost dropping the teacup. For a long stretch, he just stared at her, his relaxed look cracking like ice in spring. He set the cup down carefully, as if any sudden movement might shatter it.
He stood up, staring, then glanced at a wooden chair as though he wanted to hurl it, but bit back the impulse and turned his back, jaw tight while he gathered himself.
"Core Creation…" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "You want to jump into the third realm… because you feel *weak*."
Fang watched him, puzzled by his reaction. "Yes, Master. I've only been cultivating for a little over a year. I need more strength."
Master breathed out slowly, almost hissing. He paced, stopped, and pointed at her, his tone sharp and thin.
"Do you even understand what you're saying?" He raked a hand through his hair. "I got to Core Creation after thirty-five years of grinding cultivation. Thirty-five years! And even then, people called me Heaven's Greatest Genius because I moved that fast."
He jabbed his hand at her, as if he could make his point by gesture alone.
"And now my disciple, who's been cultivating for barely two years, stands here wanting to rush into Core Creation, just because some Peak Meridian beasts scared her a little. You sound like a monster to anyone else in this world—you'd drive them mad with envy. Hell, they'd probably kill you just to make themselves feel better. Do you hear what you're saying?"
Fang blinked, silently trying to wrap her mind around his outrage. She hadn't meant anything rude—it was just common sense. Nearly dying meant she was still too weak. So naturally, she wanted to get stronger, faster.
Master slumped back down and let out a long breath, finding his composure again.
"Fine," he said, waving her words away like a cloud of smoke. "We can start preparing for Core Creation. But listen, little monster, we're playing with fire now. Meridian Opening to Core Creation isn't like the steps you've taken before. You've got to squeeze all the qi you've built into a solid core right in your dantian. If you mess up, your meridians could shatter forever, even with your Origin Roots to protect you. It's dangerous—real dangerous."
He stared at her, pride and irritation wrestling in his eyes.
"Go rest tonight. Tomorrow, we push your qi reserves to the absolute limit. And Fang… seriously, try not to make the heavens jealous."
She grinned, bowing deeply, and wore her exhaustion like a badge. "Yes, Master. Thank you."
As she walked into the hut for a hot spirit bath, Master just watched her go, still shaking his head, still half stunned. He thought back to the timid little rabbit he'd rescued by the river, and now, in front of him, she was turning into something wild—something that didn't fit into any rulebook. Something even he couldn't predict. The impossible weight of ambition—he could feel it pressing on both of them.