Chapter 161: Forcing Fate

Li Meng retrieved two meditation cushions from his storage bag and placed them on the dusty stone floor.

He sat cross-legged, smoothing his yellow robes, and turned to the woman beside him.

“Senior Sister Li,” he said with a warm smile. “It has been too long.”

Li Xi turned toward him, her expression softening into a graceful, inviting smile. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear—a simple movement that rippled with practiced feminine charm.

“Junior Brother is a busy man,” she teased, her voice like honey. “This Senior Sister has wanted to visit you several times, yet I never seem to find the right opportunity.”

Li Meng chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Is that so? That is truly a regret.”

Li Xi pursed her lips, a playful glint in her eyes as she winked at him.

“Then the next time I send an invitation, Junior Brother must not refuse.”

Li Meng’s gaze flickered briefly to the man sitting silently beside her—Senior Brother Ning Changyuan.

In the Joyous Union Sect, the distinction between relationships was subtle but vital. An ‘invitation’ between male and female disciples was often a prelude to courtship.

Usually, disciples started as ‘Dual Cultivation Partners’—a pragmatic arrangement for sharing spiritual energy, strictly business. To escalate to ‘Dao Companions’—true spiritual spouses—required emotional investment. They would travel together, tour the mountains and rivers, and debate the Dao to build a bond.

Ning Changyuan remained impassive, showing not a hint of jealousy at Li Xi’s overt flirting.

Interesting, Li Meng mused.

This confirmed that Ning was merely a Dual Cultivation partner, a vessel for cultivation. If they were true Dao Companions, Li Xi would not be so bold with another man, and Ning certainly wouldn’t be so indifferent.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Li Meng replied smoothly. “I look forward to Senior Sister’s invitation.”

Li Xi laughed, a sound like silver bells, her chest trembling slightly with mirth. They fell into an easy, flirtatious banter.

Beside them, Lu Zimo watched the exchange silently.

A trace of melancholy shadowed her eyes.

Fellow Daoist Li… truly is a passionate soul.

She corrected herself. No. It is ‘Junior Brother Li.’

All his talk about merely having “friends” in the Joyous Union Sect was a lie. He navigated their social hierarchy with the ease of a veteran disciple. He was one of them.

Men, she thought bitterly. Not a single word from their mouths can be trusted.

Meanwhile, on a high mountain ridge overlooking the valley.

Two figures stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping at their robes.

“Junior Sister,” Han Li said, glancing at the woman beside him. “What is wrong?”

He asked the question knowingly. Her killing intent was leaking out, dropping the ambient temperature by several degrees.

Wen Huanhuan clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. Cold light flickered in her eyes as she stared down at the plaza below.

She threw a meditation cushion onto the ground and sat down aggressively, her posture rigid as ice. She refused to look down any longer.

Men really aren’t any good.

“That damned little brat…” she hissed through gritted teeth.

She took a deep breath, trying to quell the flames in her chest, but the chill in her eyes only deepened.

Just a few nights ago, he had been in her bed, cuddling her to sleep, his scent wrapping around her. Now? He was practically entangled with another woman—laughing and chatting with her own disciple no less.

When we get back, I’m going to beat him to death.

Han Li watched his fuming Junior Sister, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. He turned his gaze upward, staring at the darkening sky.

“The day isn’t far off,” he murmured to himself. “I hope we still have time.”

Time was the one resource they couldn’t cultivate.

His Martial Nephew Li possessed the ‘Five Spirit Roots Waste Physique.’ His cultivation speed was agonizingly slow. Who knew how many years—or centuries—it would take for him to reach the Golden Core stage?

Without the Grandmaster Longevity Pill, neither he nor Wen Huanhuan had any hope of forming their Nascent Souls. Even if their Dao Hearts reached Perfection, their lifespans would run out before they could take that final step.

They needed Li Meng. And Li Meng needed time.

Time flowed like water in the desert.

Day turned to night, and night turned to day, the cycle repeating until the fated moment finally arrived.

The night of the fifth month.

As darkness swallowed the valley, the atmosphere in Yellow Wind Valley shifted. The air grew heavy, thick with tension and anticipation.

“It is starting.”

Li Meng, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open.

His voice was calm, but it carried authority. Around him, the Joyous Union Sect disciples opened their eyes in unison, their focus sharpening.

Li Xi turned to speak to him, but the words died in her throat.

HUM.

The massive stone monolith in the center of the plaza stirred.

On the surface of the pitch-black stele, golden characters began to emerge. They appeared from the bottom up, spreading like glowing ivy until the entire surface was covered in dense, intricate script.

The characters were ancient, indecipherable to modern eyes, exuding an aura of vicissitude and timeless power.

A heartbeat later, the seven Enlightenment Platforms surrounding the stele flared to life, glowing with the same golden resonance.

“The Enlightenment Stele has opened!”

Someone screamed the words, shattering the silence.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Greed overrode caution. Several streaks of golden light shot from the surrounding ridges. Cultivators rode their swords, diving toward the platforms like moths to a flame.

“Don’t move,” Li Meng commanded. “Watch first.”

The Joyous Union Sect disciples, muscles tensed to launch themselves, froze. They looked at Li Meng, then at each other. Hesitantly, they obeyed, settling back onto their cushions.

Lu Zimo glanced at Li Meng sideways.

Technically, he was their Junior Brother. Yet, from the moment he arrived, he had become the de facto core of the team. His command was absolute, suggesting he held a prestige within the Sect that far outstripped his seniority.

Thud.

The first cultivator landed on an Enlightenment Platform.

Before he could even bend his knees to sit, the golden light beneath him surged violently.

“Argh!”

The cultivator staggered, slamming onto his hands and knees. It was as if an invisible mountain had crashed down onto his shoulders, pinning him to the stone.

“Junior Brother, is that Spiritual Pressure?” Li Xi whispered, watching the struggle.

Li Meng narrowed his eyes, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“Not simple pressure,” he analyzed. “It appears to be a Restriction designed to test the cultivator’s foundation and will.”

Li Xi looked at the platforms with a new light in her eyes. “So, not just anyone is qualified to seek enlightenment?”

Her words sent a ripple of excitement through the Joyous Union Sect disciples. If the platform filtered out the unworthy, then the chaotic scramble became a meritocracy. They all believed they had a chance.

But the reality was cruel.

In less than five breaths, three of the five cultivators who had rushed the platforms broke. Coughing blood, they scrambled off the edge, fleeing in a sorry state.

Two remained.

They were stubborn, their faces twisted in agony as they fought the crushing weight, refusing to let go of the Fated Chance.

“I… can… do it…” one gritted out, blood leaking from his eyes.

Suddenly, the golden light intensified.

The two cultivators didn’t scream. They simply collapsed.

As they hit the stone, their bodies began to dissolve. Flesh turned to dust, bones to ash. In the blink of an eye, they were erased from existence, leaving nothing behind but the empty platform.

The crowd went deathly pale.

The message was written in ash for all to see:

If the Fated Chance is not yours, do not force it.

Forcibly seizing fate was nothing but a path to death.