Volume One: The World Awakens, Spring Reigns in All Seasons Chapter Fifteen: Breaking Through the Divine Pivot, Warmth Fills the Heart

Late at night, when all the lights in the city had gone out, a solitary two-story building in a remote corner of the College of Transportation remained aglow. Zhao Tiansheng pushed up his glasses, a thick, ancient-looking book in hand, brows furrowed as he turned its pages from time to time.

Mo Wen lay on the floor, a thin layer of cotton beneath him. His tattered clothes had already been cleared away, his face as pale as gold paper, unconscious and oblivious.

Zhao Tiansheng seemed to have discovered something. He closed the ancient tome, placed his palm lightly on Mo Wen’s chest, and sent a warm stream of internal energy into his body. Mo Wen’s insides were riddled with countless wounds, but Zhao Tiansheng’s internal energy was gentle and persistent, gradually untangling the misaligned meridians and restoring the displaced organs.

Three hours passed. Dawn’s faint light crept in through the window. Zhao Tiansheng nodded with satisfaction, found a nightgown to cover Mo Wen, brewed himself a cup of tea, and leaned back, savoring the moment with half-closed eyes.

Suddenly, Zhao Tiansheng set down his cup, twisted his left hand, and said, “Come out. Let me see your true form!”

His spiritual sense penetrated Mo Wen’s heart. A small black sphere slowly emerged, radiating a faintly sinister glow in the air. Zhao Tiansheng supported it with one hand, his spiritual sense probing into the sphere, but he was taken aback.

“Hm?”

His spiritual sense could not pierce the sphere!

The sphere grew docile, not daring to move. Before one who had shattered illusions, it had no strength to resist.

“Where do you come from?” Zhao Tiansheng’s spiritual sense communicated with the sphere, his tone stern and icy. The sphere trembled as it replied, “I was born from the mist. After absorbing the mist, I gained consciousness!”

Born of the mist?

A flicker of hesitation crossed Zhao Tiansheng’s face. He suddenly gripped the sphere tightly, then released it.

“Follow this boy properly. Do not cause trouble, or I will destroy you!” Zhao Tiansheng snorted coldly, warning the sphere. Having been the dean for over a decade, nurturing countless students, he was naturally a straightforward man and disliked anything born of the mist.

Glancing at the sky outside, Zhao Tiansheng picked up his phone and made a call. Less than half an hour later, Mo Wen’s counselor arrived.

“Dean, what’s happened here?”

Mo Wen’s counselor, a woman in her forties named Huang, differed from others in her meticulousness—she fussed over every detail, insisting on personally reminding and checking with every student in her class. Because of this, Mo Wen and his peers privately called her Granny Huang.

Granny Huang’s heart tightened when she saw Mo Wen lying on the floor. She checked his breathing—thank goodness!

Zhao Tiansheng sneered disdainfully, “He won’t die in my care! Your fine student—he killed several Murong family cultivators, and now he’s become something neither human nor ghost!”

“Which Murong family?” Granny Huang gasped, her voice trembling.

Zhao Tiansheng replied with a sigh, “Who do you think? Is there a second Murong family in Jiangnan? The boy is lucky—Murong Xiu, shameless as ever, attacked personally! Fortunately, I happened to be in the college.”

Granny Huang hurried to thank him and was about to take Mo Wen away when, suddenly, Su Qiang and Lin Xi arrived, somehow having heard the news.

“Good day, Dean!”

“Uncle Zhao!”

It was widely known that the College of Transportation had a dean who had shattered illusions. Su Qiang was already aware, and Lin Xi clearly knew Zhao Tiansheng personally.

Seeing Mo Wen lying on the ground, Lin Xi rushed over, picked him up, and complained softly, “Uncle Zhao, how could you leave him on the floor?”

Noticing Lin Xi’s concern, Zhao Tiansheng seemed to understand something and grumbled, “He’s lucky I didn’t throw him out!”

Lin Xi stuck out her tongue—her relationship with Zhao Tiansheng was obviously close enough to dare question someone of his cultivation. She dressed Mo Wen in the nightgown, thanked Zhao Tiansheng repeatedly, and carried him away.

But she didn’t return to the precinct. Instead, she took Mo Wen to the Purple Garden in Shanghai. Lin Xi grumbled about how heavy Mo Wen was, settled him on the bed, tucked him in, and sat by the bedside, her hand supporting her cheek as she waited. When Mo Wen showed no sign of waking, perhaps because she’d risen early or was simply tired, Lin Xi drifted off to sleep at the bedside.

Mo Wen felt himself drifting in a void—no sky, no earth, no form, no color. Everything forgotten. A warm current flowed within him, guiding his internal energy back to life. Unconsciously, he began to recite his cultivation scripture; the warmth seemed irresistibly attractive to his energy. As it coursed randomly through his body, his internal energy followed, out of control.

The warm current sped up, drawing his energy with it straight to his mind.

Silent as a whisper, but in Mo Wen’s heart, it thundered. The warm current and a trace of internal energy gathered in his mind, forming a sphere from substance to ethereal. His consciousness expanded—his spiritual sea opened!

Divine Core!

He slowly awoke, inhaling the scent of the fragrant quilt. Beside him was Lin Xi, curled up at the bedside. All Mo Wen remembered was the dean saving him, but he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. Checking his internal organs, he found himself not only healed but, by fortune’s twist, elevated to the Divine Core stage.

He sat up, waking Lin Xi.

“Little brother, you’re awake!” Lin Xi’s spirits lifted, delighted. She stood up. “Let me make you some breakfast—how about porridge?”

Having sat in one position so long, Lin Xi’s legs were numb. She stood abruptly, nearly losing her balance, and stumbled. Mo Wen caught her by the waist, gentle as water cradling the moon.

“Sleep a bit more,” he said.

He pulled her into the covers, Lin Xi kicked off her shoes, her long legs draped over Mo Wen. Resting her head on his arm, she sweetly closed her eyes.

Mo Wen couldn’t bear to disturb her. He watched quietly—her long lashes fluttered, her small mouth slightly parted, her delicate nose breathing evenly.

Lin Xi had never been so close to a man. Though she appeared relaxed, her heart was taut. What if little brother tried something? Would she resist?

But Mo Wen made no move. He gazed inward, focusing on his mind. After breaking through to the Divine Core, his spiritual sea had formed, and some internal energy had turned into spiritual sense. Cultivation at the Divine Core stage meant strengthening this spiritual sense: first, reaching a certain intensity to project it outward; second, to command objects with spiritual sense, like Zhao Tiansheng wielding swords by thought. Of course, Zhao Tiansheng’s mastery was unmatched—no Divine Core cultivator could reach his level.

The third step was to condense spiritual sense into tangible form, turning it into a weapon that could slay foes silently. Back in the Realm of Nothingness, the elder beside Murong Hong had achieved this stage; if not for the mist’s annihilation, Mo Wen would have stood no chance.

By noon, Lin Xi stirred from sleep, murmuring like a child, stretching languidly. Only then did she remember Mo Wen was beside her.

Their eyes met, the air crackled with tension. Lin Xi grew flustered.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” she said, hurriedly leaving the bed. Soon, the kitchen filled with the clatter of pots and pans. Mo Wen felt a sense of domestic tranquility. He got up, stretched, washed simply, still dressed in Zhao Tiansheng’s nightgown.

Half an hour later, two delicate dishes sat on the table—a bowl of fish soup and a plate of baby greens. Lin Xi removed her apron and served Mo Wen rice.

“Eat more. My cooking isn’t much—I usually just make whatever for myself.”

Lin Xi was shy, but her eyes betrayed a hint of expectation. Mo Wen tried the food—it was indeed good.

“Who would have thought the illustrious Miss Lin would be so skilled in the kitchen? Looks like I’ll have to come mooch meals more often.”

Mo Wen joked, digging in. He was genuinely hungry and polished off two bowls of rice, while Lin Xi only took a small bite.

Lin Xi, like a devoted wife, swiftly cleared the table, then sliced fruit for Mo Wen.

Watching her busy, her graceful silhouette irresistibly alluring, Mo Wen tiptoed over and suddenly hugged Lin Xi from behind, grinning mischievously.

“Sister Lin, I want to eat your cooking every day. I doubt I can stomach the precinct’s stone-hard meals anymore. Why don’t I just move in with you?”

Mo Wen’s candid words sent Lin Xi’s heart fluttering, blush spreading to her ears. She gave a barely audible response.

Mo Wen, overjoyed, tried to get cheeky, but Lin Xi slapped his hands away and pushed him out of the kitchen, scolding him. After tidying up, she faced Mo Wen as if she had become a different person.

Cold as frost!

Expressionless, Lin Xi dismissed him icily. “You’ve recovered, eaten your fill—are you planning to stay here until the New Year?”

Mo Wen was stunned—so women really are fickle, changing moods as swiftly as a turning page.