The Golden Core’s Dawn

Outside Shuyu Valley.

The night, black as ink, was slowly receding from the firmament.

However, dawn had not yet broken, leaving the world steeped in the most obscure and stagnant moment of the day.

Damp, cold mist permeated the forest clearing, dampening the disciples’ robes and hair.

Yet, not a single one among them used their cultivation to dispel it.

Hundreds of disciples from the Three-Unity Sword Sect stood silently and solemnly, resembling a dense, dark pine forest, quietly positioned twenty Zhang outside the valley entrance.

Their varied Daoist robes remained perfectly still, no one spoke, and even their breathing was suppressed to an almost inaudible level.

Only the occasional, irrepressible cough, or the sporadic chirping of a bird from the distant mountains, would occasionally pierce the almost solidified silence.

Even as more sect members, sensing the unusual atmosphere, arrived later, they joined the ranks as quietly as drops of water falling into a vast sea, stirring not the slightest ripple of noise.

All eyes were fixed intently on the valley entrance, shrouded in a dense spiritual mist, as if they sought to pierce through the very chaos it held.

Suddenly, the dense mist at the valley entrance seemed to thin slightly, as if gently dispersed by the night breeze.

This subtle change, akin to a pebble dropped into an ancient well, though not stirring a great tide, instantly tugged at every taut heartstring!

Every disciple, whether standing or sitting, abruptly straightened their backs almost simultaneously, their gazes converging in an instant, their very breath suspended!

However, that subtle fluctuation vanished in an instant, and the valley entrance reverted to a deathly silence, as if it had been nothing more than an illusion.

Inside the small bamboo building within the valley, Mo Tingbei observed the disciples’ reactions in the water mirror, and the lingering trace of wariness hidden deep in his heart largely dissipated.

His finger gently brushed the surface of the water mirror, sending ripples outward, and the young figures within the mirror, who had been eagerly awaiting in the cold mist yet still maintained their composure, blurred with the disturbance.

“How is it?” a clear, cold voice inquired from beside him.

Jiang Jinyue stood quietly, her icy blue eyes similarly sweeping over the water mirror.

Her tone, though faint, was not entirely devoid of concern.

Mo Tingbei withdrew his hand, speaking slowly, “Their temperaments have been honed well, and I did indeed see a few promising talents.”

A subtle hint of relief colored his voice as he added, “It is always a good thing for the sect’s legacy to continue unbroken.”

“If you truly persist in this solitary path, you will not live to witness the sect’s ascent to its pinnacle,” Jiang Jinyue’s voice was tinged with coldness, yet her eyes held a trace of desperate plea.

Mo Tingbei merely shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible curve appearing at the corner of his lips, as if the subject of their discussion were not his own life.

“They must be given a chance to grow,” he murmured, silently adding in his heart, ‘And to myself… a chance to rest.’

“It’s almost time,” he declared, his voice imbued with an undeniable authority, though Jiang Jinyue could detect a faint, underlying sense of resignation.

“It wouldn’t do to keep the younger generation waiting too long.”

“It’s also time to let those outside know that the Three-Unity Sword Sect’s Golden Core has been achieved.”

Jiang Jinyue offered no objection.

She merely watched as he, with a movement akin to a mortal’s conjuring trick, instantly donned a brand new set of azure Daoist robes.

In the depths of her icy blue eyes, a complex glimmer flickered, ultimately subsiding into a profound silence.

Stepping forward, she positioned herself beside him, a silent declaration of solidarity.

Mo Tingbei glanced at her, a faint, fleeting wisp of warmth momentarily gracing the depths of his eyes before vanishing.

Turning back, he instructed the bewildered Ye Jinghuang, who remained seated on the ground, “Once Lin Xiaoxiao awakens, convey my words to her; she will handle everything for you.”

“From this day forward, cultivate diligently.”

Having finished speaking, and without waiting for Ye Jinghuang’s response, he simply walked towards the bamboo door.

Jiang Jinyue followed closely, the aura around her, which had been restrained to its utmost, slowly awakening with each step like a slumbering icy ocean.

Though not yet fully unleashed, it already carried a heart-stopping, profound power.

Mo Tingbei’s hand rested on the bamboo door, and with a gentle push, he opened the portal that separated the inner and outer worlds.

With a single step, he emerged outside the valley.

The divine ability of Shrinking the Ground into Inches (TL Note: A spatial manipulation technique that allows one to traverse great distances in a single step.), if not reliant on prior preparation, could never be used with such effortless grace, even by a Purple Mansion cultivator at their peak.

In those brief few moments, Mo Tingbei seemed to have grown stronger by several degrees.

A fresh pang struck Jiang Jinyue’s heart; her Senior Disciple Brother, he had drawn yet a little closer to that final moment.

An unprecedented resolve gradually brewed within her heart.

****

“Creak—”

A soft sound broke the silence within the valley, instantly piercing through the almost stagnant anticipation that held everyone outside.

An indescribable, potent pressure surged forth from within the valley, slow, firm, and utterly irresistible.

Crackle.

A faint, crisp sound emanated from beneath their feet, prompting everyone to look down in horror.

They saw that the ground, at some unknown point, had become covered with a layer of ethereal blue frost, which was now spreading outwards with astonishing speed.

Wherever it passed, grass and trees stood stiff and lifeless, dewdrops frozen solid, and even the flowing air seemed to crystallize, taking on a glassy texture.

An unprecedented ‘cold’ seized every single person present.

This coldness did not invade the skin or harm flesh and blood, yet it penetrated directly to the very origin of their souls, causing even the most fervent True Essence to circulate sluggishly, and the most active divine thoughts to feel as if trapped in ice.

It was as if they were directly confronting the eternal stillness and bitter cold of deep space itself.

The disciples’ faces turned pale, and those with weaker cultivation couldn’t help but tremble slightly.

Yet, their eyes blazed with an unbelievable shock and fervent awe.

Jiang Jinyue, having fully unleashed her Golden Core cultivation, did not deliberately exude pressure.

Yet, her very presence served as both the origin and the culmination of the concept of ‘coldness’ itself.

The spiritual mist at the valley entrance retreated and dispersed to both sides, as if possessed of its own life.

The space around Jiang Jinyue subtly twisted, as if the very laws of existence naturally submitted and restructured themselves beneath her feet.

She was like a deity emerging from the deepest reaches of the extreme northern abyss, an embodiment of the permafrost plains, the will of absolute zero at the moment of all things’ demise.

The moment she appeared, everything around her—light, sound, energy, and even time—seemed to become sluggish and viscous, ultimately submitting to her eternal, icy order.

She did not merely control ice; she was ‘ice’ itself, the master of the laws governing the freezing and silencing of all things.

The disciples could not even muster the courage to look directly at her; they involuntarily lowered their heads, daring not to glimpse her.

This was not out of courtesy, but stemmed from a primal instinct of awe and fear towards a supreme, universal rule.

Their intuition told them that Grand Elder Jiang, in such a state, even a single glance would cause their souls to be assimilated and frozen by those endless icy laws.

Among them, disciples whose cultivation paths were closely aligned with ‘ice and cold’ reacted even more intensely.

An embodiment of law, a monarch of the Dao, she seemed to have forcefully wrested her own path from the grasp of heaven and earth to toy with it.

Even the deities of ancient times would pale in comparison, and if ancient Mahayana (TL Note: A profound stage of cultivation in ancient methods, often associated with attaining Buddhahood or ultimate enlightenment.) cultivators were to reappear, she could suppress them with a mere flick of the hand.

This was the Golden Core of the modern path.

The day the Dao is perfected, one ascends to heaven in a single step.

Among all those present, only Mo Tingbei remained composed, as if the person standing beside him were but an ordinary cultivator.

He cleared his throat softly, “Junior Sister, please withdraw your pressure.”

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a reassuring, almost magical quality; hearing it, one felt as though all worries could be cast aside.

Jiang Jinyue assented faintly, casually drawing down a wisp of rosy light to shroud herself, preventing the outward manifestation of her Dao laws from inadvertently harming the lower-ranked disciples.

The pervasive, extreme coldness in the air gradually receded.

A stir rippled through the crowd.

First, a few bolder individuals mustered the courage to look up, only to see the composed figure of Mo Tingbei, standing like a towering peak, in an azure robe, alongside a form shrouded in rosy light, whose true appearance remained obscured.

Even though they could feel the undeniable Golden Core aura, the absurd challenge to their understanding left everyone momentarily incredulous.

As all the disciples finally raised their heads, their gazes, a mixture of awe and inquiry, converged upon Mo Tingbei, and the atmosphere fell into a temporary silence.

Mo Tingbei’s gaze slowly swept over the disciples present, his eyes, usually like the tranquil waters of a peach blossom pond, now held a serene power capable of stabilizing mountains and rivers.

He cleared his throat twice, then his words clearly reached everyone’s ears: “Thank you all for waiting so long.”

It was a simple sentence, yet it carried a strange, magical power, causing all the disciples’ suspended hearts to settle, and an ineffable excitement began to surge within them.

At this moment, Mo Tingbei subtly shifted, allowing Jiang Jinyue to step half a pace ahead of him.

Jiang Jinyue stood beside Mo Tingbei; though no blazing light or terrifying momentum emanated from her, her mere presence established her as the sole center of heaven and earth.

Mo Tingbei looked at the crowd, announcing in a steady tone, “Effective today, our sect’s Elder Jiang Jinyue has successfully broken through, attaining the Golden Core Great Dao.”

His voice was not loud, yet it exploded like a sudden clap of thunder in the ears of all the disciples!

Golden Core!

After hundreds of years, the Three-Unity Sword Sect had finally produced another Golden Core Great Lord!

Following a brief, deathly silence, immense euphoria and shock swept through all the disciples like a tide, their faces alight with excitement and disbelief; had sect rules not been so strict, they would have burst into cheers.

Mo Tingbei watched their reactions calmly, waiting for the excited emotions to subside slightly before continuing, his voice still placid, yet possessing an undeniable resolve: “This is a fortunate event for the sect, and it should also bring comfort to our ancestors through the generations.”

He paused slightly, his gaze seemingly inadvertently sweeping towards the distant horizon, as if looking out at some unseen beings, then a faint, chilling curve appeared at the corner of his lips:

“Since it is a joyous occasion, how can we not invite fellow cultivators to share in the festivities? Especially our fellow Daoists from the Immortal Alliance; they have shown great care for our sect over the years, and this time, we must invite them to celebrate properly.”

“Han Yu,” he called out.

The round-faced youth immediately stepped forward, bowing with clasped fists, his expression more solemn than ever: “Disciple is present!”

“Take my token and deliver the golden invitation to the Immortal Alliance headquarters.”

Mo Tingbei flipped his wrist, and an ancient, purple sword token appeared in his palm, which he handed over.

“Your words must be humble, and your etiquette impeccable.”

“Simply state that our Elder Jiang has just entered the Golden Core realm, her foundation is unstable, and our Three-Unity Sword Sect is merely a small sect in the borderlands, with shallow foundations, lacking resources, and in urgent need of support from our fellow Daoists.”

Han Yu took the sword token and bowed respectfully: “Disciple obeys.”

Mo Tingbei nodded gently, as if he had merely given a trivial instruction.

He looked up again, gazing towards the distant Immortal Alliance, shrouded in clouds and mist, his eyes distant and cold.

“Go,” he said faintly, “Tell them that our Three-Unity Sword Sect has been impoverished for too long; it’s time we shared in the joy of this Golden Core breakthrough.”

Having spoken, he no longer looked at the crowd, taking a single step that carried him out of sight into the distant sky.

Jiang Jinyue silently followed, never uttering a single word from beginning to end, like the coldest shadow.

However, that Golden Core Dao charm capable of making heaven and earth bow and all things fall silent, had already been deeply etched into the hearts of all the disciples.