Deep beneath the Azure Peak Sect, in caverns that most disciples didn't even know existed, lay the ancestral quarters where the sect's oldest and most powerful cultivators made their homes.

The passages here were carved from living stone that accumulated spiritual energy from millennia of cultivation. Ancient formations lined the walls, their purpose forgotten by all but the eldest inhabitants.

In one particular cave, larger and more elaborate than the others, a young woman sat in perfect meditation pose.

She was the literal definition of jade beauty: skin like polished white stone, features so perfect they seemed carved by divine hands, long black hair that fell like silk around her shoulders. Her beauty was the kind that could start wars and topple dynasties, the sort that made mortal men forget their own names.

But anyone who looked closely would notice something unsettling about her perfection. Her beauty was too absolute, too flawless, like a mask crafted to hide something darker underneath.

It was only when one saw her inner world that they would understand her nature.

It was a realm vast beyond mortal comprehension.

Entire continents stretched across her consciousness, populated by billions of beings who had never known existence outside her cultivation base. They lived, loved, built civilizations, and died within the span of her thoughts, their entire histories playing out in the theater of her mind.

But unlike most Civilization Realm cultivators who focused on nurturing their inner populations, she had structured her realm around a different principle entirely. Art. Expression. The eternal capture of fleeting moments and emotions.

Massive galleries stretched across her inner landscape, filled with paintings, sculptures, and other artistic works that would have driven mortal artists to madness with their beauty. But these weren't created by her inner world's inhabitants. They were something far more intimate and dangerous.

Each piece was a perfect representation of someone from the outer world. Someone she had touched, influenced, or controlled through her cultivation method. The art captured not just their physical appearance but their spiritual essence, their deepest fears and desires, their dao comprehension.

She walked through one particular gallery now, her consciousness drifting between the physical meditation and this inner realm.

The paintings here depicted members of the Azure Peak Sect that were tied to her, from lowly outer disciples to powerful elders.

One painting near the center of the gallery showed Elder Feng in perfect detail. His beard was meticulously rendered, every line of worry around his eyes captured with painful accuracy.

But more than that, the painting showed his dao comprehension, his spiritual foundation, even his hidden insecurities and buried ambitions. Golden threads of light connected the painting to something beyond the gallery, stretching out into the real world where Elder Feng's physical form moved according to her will.

She paused before the painting, examining the transaction that had made this connection possible.

Unlike what many believed, her puppeteering technique wasn't about forceful domination.

She could not simply force her will upon another cultivator, no matter how much weaker they might be. The universe itself rejected such crude manipulation, at least when attempted through her particular dao path.

Instead, she was a master of spiritual commerce, trading in currencies that most cultivators didn't even recognize they possessed.

Everything was about the transaction.

The deal.

The bargain struck between two willing parties, where one side simply didn't understand what they were truly agreeing to.

Elder Feng had come to her three months ago, desperate and afraid. His breakthrough to the Life Realm had been chaotic, his inner world was collapsing, and he faced the very real possibility of cultivation deviation that would either kill him or cripple him permanently.

She had offered help, as she always did when promising cultivators found themselves in impossible situations.

The stabilization technique she provided had been genuine and effective.

She had spent weeks carefully reconstructing his inner world's foundation, nursing his dying ecosystems back to health, and ensuring his cultivation base would remain stable for centuries to come. By any measure, she had saved his life and his future.

All she asked in return was a small favor. Temporary access to his dao of probability, just for a few weeks. Nothing that would harm him or the sect. Just a tiny adjustment to certain random processes, the kind of thing that happened all the time in cultivation. Barely noticeable, really.

Elder Feng had agreed gratefully, not understanding the true scope of what he was offering. His dao of probability was precisely calibrated to influence seemingly random events. The drawing of lots, the assignment of missions, the selection of opponents in tournaments. All of these things operated on principles of chance that someone with his abilities could nudge in subtle ways.

And now, for the past several weeks, she had been using his dao to carefully orchestrate the tournament matchups. Not blatantly, nothing that would be immediately obvious to observers. But ensuring that certain key participants faced exactly the right challenges at exactly the right moments to push their development in the directions she desired.

The painting of Elder Feng continued to pulse with golden light, showing their connection remained strong. She could feel his spiritual signature, sense his location, even influence his actions when necessary. All perfectly within the bounds of their agreed-upon transaction.

But as she watched, something changed.

The golden threads connecting the painting to Elder Feng's physical form began to dim. Then they started to fray, individual strands snapping with tiny flashes of light. The painting itself began to show signs of distress, the colors becoming less vibrant, the spiritual energy wavering.

Within moments, the entire artwork crumbled.

The painted canvas dissolved into motes of light that scattered across her inner gallery before fading completely. The connection was severed, the transaction forcibly terminated by an outside force powerful enough to cut through her carefully woven spiritual bonds.

Her eyes snapped open in her physical body, and she couldn't help but smile.

Little Yuan had caught her faster than she had expected. But it didn't matter.

Her three primary targets were all progressing exactly as she had planned, though each presented unique challenges and opportunities.

Wu Kangming was developing his sword dao at an acceptable rate, guided by that ancient spirit bound to his ring. The boy had potential, certainly, and more importantly, she had identified exactly what kind of transaction would appeal to him.

Then there was Ke Yin.

Now he was the truly puzzling one.

The World Tree Sutra practitioner with energies that even she couldn't fully identify. He was advancing rapidly, perhaps too rapidly for his own good, but that also made him potentially the most valuable of the three.

The problem was that he seemed remarkably resistant to her usual methods of analysis.

She couldn't get a clear read on his deepest desires or hidden shames. Every time she thought she had found an angle of approach, he would do something unexpected that forced her to reconsider her assessment. He was proving to be an enigma that would require much more careful study before she could determine the right transaction to offer.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

And finally, there was the 'other one.'

She smiled wider as she thought of him. The transaction had already been completed months ago, sealed with spiritual contracts that bound him more thoroughly than any chain. His power was growing at an exponential rate, fueled by the resources and opportunities she had provided in exchange for future considerations.

Of the three, he was closest to being ready for harvest.

Though she had to admit, he was drawing attention that even she would shy away from, but what else could she expect when manipulating an insane cultivator? Power and instability went hand in hand at the highest levels of cultivation.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she sensed a ripple in the spiritual energy outside her cave. Not the chaotic disturbance of someone forcing their way into the Ancestor's Domain, but the controlled presence of someone who belonged here. Someone with power equal to her own.

She left her inner world and made her way outside.

There was no need to prepare or arm herself. Whoever was outside had come for conversation, not conflict. The spiritual pressure carried no hostile intent, just the weight of absolute authority.

She stepped outside the cave, her bare feet making no sound on the stone floor of the corridor. The tunnels here were lit by formations that drew power from the sect's spiritual veins, casting everything in a warm golden glow.

Sect Master Yuan stood twenty paces away, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression completely neutral. He wore the simple robes of his office, but the aura surrounding him made it clear that those humble garments contained power that could reshape continents.

"What brings you here, little Yuan?" she asked, her voice carrying the kind of warm affection that an older sister might use with a beloved younger brother. The tone was deliberately calculated to remind him of their relative ages and positions within the sect hierarchy.

"Don't play coy with me, Shimu," Yuan replied, using the formal address for a master's wife or senior female partner. "You know exactly why I'm here."

"Oh, Yuan. You're always so serious. Can't an old woman enjoy a bit of meditation without being accused of some grand conspiracy?" She gestured vaguely at the cave behind her. "I've been cultivating peacefully for centuries. Surely that's what you want from the ancestors?"

"Meditation that involves puppeteering sect elders is hardly peaceful," Yuan replied, his voice carrying the cold authority of someone who had judged souls for millennia. "That's a clear violation of sect rules, regardless of your cultivation level."

"Elder Feng volunteered for the procedure," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I saved his life and his cultivation future. The small favor he provided in return was given freely and with full understanding of the terms."

Yuan didn't respond immediately. He knew this woman well enough to understand that she had almost certainly found some leverage over Elder Feng that made refusal impossible.

But technically, she was correct.

The sect rules were deliberately more flexible for higher-level cultivators. When you reached Civilization Realm, you gained enormous personal autonomy as long as your actions didn't directly threaten the sect's core interests. The ancestors were expected to be above petty regulations, trusted to self-govern based on their accumulated wisdom and power.

She had always been extremely careful to work within those boundaries.

"Why are you interfering with the outer sect tournament?" Yuan asked, changing his approach. "Isn't this sort of thing beneath your attention?"

"Interfering?" She tilted her head with practiced innocence. "I prefer to think of it as taking an interest. And really, isn't it the same reason you're more invested in this particular cohort than usual?"

Something flickered behind Yuan's eyes, and she knew her arrow had found its mark. He was worried about Wu Kangming, and more concerningly, about Ke Yin. The boy with the mysterious energies who represented either a tremendous opportunity or a catastrophic threat depending on how he developed.

"I'm warning you not to harm those disciples," he said, his voice carrying undertones of spiritual pressure that would have crushed most cultivators. "The other ancestors will not turn a blind eye to you sabotaging the sect's future for your personal schemes."

She raised her hands in a gesture of innocent surrender. "Of course, I know better than to act personally against promising disciples. That would be such a waste, and incredibly short-sighted."

Yuan recognized that this was probably the best assurance he could extract from her. She was clever enough never to make promises she couldn't keep, and skilled enough to find ways around any restrictions he might try to impose.

He decided to try a different approach, though he doubted it would be effective.

"Your cultivation method is driving you down an increasingly dark path," he said, his tone shifting to something approaching genuine concern. "At this point, there's nothing that meaningfully separates you from demonic cultivators. You're manipulating people's souls for personal gain."

"Oh, Yuan-er, that righteous nonsense won't work on me. We both know that at our level, things aren't nearly so black and white. Your Dao of Karma influences every member of this sect, shaping their thoughts and actions in ways they don't even recognize. The same is true for all the ancestors; we each leave our mark on this place and everyone in it."

She stepped closer, and for a moment, Yuan caught a glimpse of what lay beneath her perfect facade. Ancient hunger, patient as stone, intelligent as a master strategist, and utterly without the moral constraints that guided lesser cultivators.

"The only difference," she continued, "is that I'm honest about what I am. You still pretend that your manipulations serve some greater good."

Yuan felt a familiar frustration building in his chest. Arguing with her was like trying to catch smoke with bare hands, every point he raised was deflected or turned back on itself.

She had perfected the art of justification over countless centuries, creating elaborate philosophical frameworks that allowed her to pursue any course of action while maintaining her sense of righteousness.

"Out of respect for my master, I don't want to kill you shimu," he said finally, allowing steel to enter his voice. "But if it comes down to protecting this sect's future against your schemes, I will do what needs to be done."

For the first time since their conversation began, genuine fear flickered in her eyes.

The Dao of Karma was one of the few cultivation paths that could potentially work against her own methods. Karmic balance had a way of cutting through even the most cleverly constructed transactions, and Yuan's mastery of those principles had reached terrifying heights.

But the fear lasted only a moment, too fast for even Yuan to register it, before being replaced by her customary confident smile.

"You're a few thousand years too young to defeat me, dear nephew," she said sweetly. "Perhaps when you've had more time to mature, we can have this conversation again."

With that, she simply vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of jasmine and the lingering echo of her laughter.

Yuan stood alone outside the empty cave for several long minutes, his expression thoughtful. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper that barely disturbed the heavy air.

"Perhaps I can't defeat you," he murmured. "But the boy who cultivates the same method as master... one day, he might be able to."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.