Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator

True friendship transcends social barriers and death itself. When two souls resonate in perfect harmony, neither heaven nor earth can tear them asunder.

— Sage Master Tang Xue, Mistress of the Eternal Frost

Exhaustion dragged at Xiulan’s limbs as she made her way back to the Treasure Pavilion’s guest building near midnight. The endless parade of incompetent officials and disorganized soldiers had consumed her entire evening. Still, she’d promised Mei Chen a game of Go.

That extra hour stretched her already limited reserves, but Mei Chen’s excited smile made it worthwhile. The ghost girl proved surprisingly adept at the strategic board game, winning repeatedly.

Or maybe it was just her own lack of skill at the game…

When sleep finally beckoned, Xiulan tucked Mei Chen into the adjacent bed before collapsing into her own. The soft mattress welcomed her into immediate darkness.

Morning sunlight pierced through her eyelids far too soon. Something cold pressed against her side. Xiulan reached out, patting the empty space beside her.

Strange.

A weight circled her middle. Xiulan blinked away sleep and lifted the blanket. Mei Chen lay curled into a tight ball, arms locked around Xiulan’s waist. The ghost girl’s skin radiated a light chill but it wasn’t intense. Like having a cooling blanket that was always cool.

Perfect for summer coming in a few months?

"Xiulan, Xiulan, Xiulan," Mei Chen mumbled in her sleep, tightening her embrace.

"Haa..." Xiulan sighed and smoothed down Mei Chen’s tangled hair. After everything the girl endured—death, resurrection, transformation—such attachment made perfect sense.

She traced the cool skin beneath her fingers, memories flooding back. Mei Chen had shadowed her steps since they could barely walk, sharing every moment in Consort Lian’s cramped courtyard. The servant’s quarters—tight and drafty—had been their sanctuary.

An image surfaced: six-year-old Mei Chen chasing her through flowering osmanthus trees, their giggles drawing Lan Zhao’s fond smiles. Another flash—Mei Chen dabbing medicine on Xiulan’s scraped knee after a failed attempt to climb a courtyard wall. Winters passed as they huddled under shared blankets, whispering secrets into the dark.

Mei Chen at twelve, practicing calligraphy alongside her, ink staining their fingers black. Teaching each other to fold paper cranes, their clumsy attempts littering the wooden floor. Sneaking extra sweet buns from the kitchen, crumbs dusting their lips as they hid behind garden stones.

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s sleeping form and lifted her into a proper embrace. Mei Chen’s eyes fluttered open, wide and questioning in the morning light.

"Good morning, little ghost."

"Don’t leave me alone." Mei Chen pressed closer, fingers gripping Xiulan’s sleeve.

Xiulan squeezed her tight. "Never again." The embrace lingered until nature called with increasing urgency. "I need to use the bathroom."

When Xiulan returned, Mei Chen darted around the room like a winter breeze—straightening bedding, organizing clothes, dusting surfaces. She snatched up an ornate wooden comb. "Miss, your hair needs attention."

Xiulan settled onto a cushion. "Go ahead, but we’ll need to see Master Qingfeng after breakfast."

The comb glided through her dark strands as Mei Chen worked with practiced care. A servant knocked and entered with a laden tray—steaming congee, pickled vegetables, tea eggs, and hot tea.

They shared the meal in comfortable silence. Xiulan studied Mei Chen between bites. The ghost girl consumed the food with evident enjoyment, but…

As far as she could tell she hadn’t produced any visible signs of metabolic processes. No sweat beaded her pale skin. Her chest rose and fell in the rhythmic pattern of qi circulation rather than respiratory need.

Does she even need to eat?

The food vanished without ill effect. Perhaps her spiritual form converted sustenance directly into energy. Another mystery for Master Qingfeng’s expertise.

"Will we visit Mother today?" Mei Chen set down her bowl. "When does Fairy Feng return?"

"Do you understand what the Chao family threatens?" Xiulan asked.

Mei Chen’s gaze dropped to the floor as cool air swirled around them. "They bring an army?"

Xiulan nodded. "We need to prepare for what’s coming."

"I’ll protect you!" Mei Chen’s declaration echoed with supernatural resonance.

"I know you will." Rising from the remnants of breakfast, Xiulan stretched. "Let’s get ready."

Mei Chen guided the spiritual martial robe over Xiulan’s shoulders, its black and turquoise fabric settling with familiar weight. Her fingers worked efficiently, securing ties and smoothing wrinkles before moving to Xiulan’s hair. The silver hairpin slid into place with practiced precision.

"Your turn." Xiulan slid out a rack of fresh robes that were a bit smaller than her own.

Mei Chen glanced down at her faded servant’s garments. "But I’m already dressed?"

"A cultivator can’t wear servant’s robes." Xiulan unfurled an emerald green silk robe trimmed with silver thread.

"No!" Mei Chen backed away. "Those are far too fine for someone like me! And—and the fastenings look complicated. I can’t do them on my own!"

"That’s why you have me." Xiulan smiled.

A pink flush spread across Mei Chen’s pale cheeks. "The miss can’t dress me! It’s improper!"

"Watch me." Xiulan stepped forward.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Mei Chen’s fingers trembled as she removed her old clothes. Xiulan lifted the new robe, guiding Mei Chen’s arms through the sleeves. The silk whispered against skin as Xiulan adjusted the layers, her movements deliberate and careful. Years of watching Mei Chen dress her made the reverse simple enough.

Mei Chen stood transfixed before the bronze mirror.

"I used to dream of wearing something like this." Mei Chen’s whisper echoed with longing.

Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen from behind, studying their reflection in the mirror. "You look stunning. Far better than dreams, wouldn’t you say?"

"Yes." Mei Chen traced the embroidered patterns along her sleeve. "I like it very much."

Xiulan selected a jade hairpin from the vanity, its delicate flowers matching the robe’s design. She wove it through Mei Chen’s brown hair. "Perfect. Now we should see Master Qingfeng."

Mei Chen fell into step behind Xiulan as they entered the Treasure Pavilion’s courtyard. Merchants and workers hauled crates of dried meat and grain across the flagstones. The activity painted a clear picture—preparations for the coming siege had begun.

The higher-ranked immortals like Qingfeng and Ming wouldn’t need physical sustenance, but the mortal staff and lower-level cultivators required food to survive.

Xiulan spotted Ming directing workers on the main pavilion’s ground floor.

"Master Qingfeng awaits you in the back garden," Ming said without looking up from her ledger. "He’s expecting you."

"Expecting us?" Xiulan blinked. She’d planned to seek his counsel, but hadn’t arranged a formal meeting.

Ming nodded. "Best not keep him waiting."

The back garden revealed itself as they passed through the sole entrance—Xiulan’s first glimpse of the private sanctuary.

"I smell summer." Mei Chen inhaled deeply.

Xiulan nodded. Based on Mei Chen’s previous reaction to Qingfeng’s qi signature, his presence lingered nearby. They walked toward the garden’s center.

They found him sitting cross-legged on an emerald cultivation mat beneath a gnarled plum tree. Two identical mats rested before him, positioned with precise symmetry. Xiulan eyed the arrangement with suspicion.

"Master Qingfeng." Xiulan bowed respectfully and saluted. Mei Chen mirrored her movement, the emerald silk of her new robes rustling.

"Please, join me." Qingfeng gestured to the empty mats.

Xiulan settled onto the right mat, folding her legs beneath her in the proper cultivation stance. Mei Chen knelt on the left mat, back straight and hands folded in her lap.

Qingfeng reached for a lacquered box on the low table beside him. The wood gleamed with subtle protective arrays as he placed it before Mei Chen. "Open it."

Mei Chen lifted the lid. Inside, a bronze chain held a golden medallion no larger than a coin. She lifted it into the morning light, the metal catching the sun’s rays.

"What is that?" Xiulan leaned forward to study the intricate patterns etched into the medallion’s surface.

"A safety seal." Qingfeng nodded toward the medallion. "This will reduce Mei Chen’s power below golden core level to something more manageable. She won’t be able to remove it herself, and it will suppress and conceal her unique nature. The seal will effectively render her equivalent to a normal Qi Gathering cultivator."

"What about—" Xiulan started to ask, but Mei Chen pulled the medallion around her throat.

The chain clicked shut around her neck. A resonant thump pulsed through the garden air as the medallion settled against her skin. A blue diamond crystal materialized on her forehead, glowing with the same intensity as a spirit stone.

"I can stay with Xiulan now, right?" Mei Chen bounced forward on her knees, emerald robes rustling.

Xiulan stared at her maid, mouth slightly open. The transformation happened so fast she barely processed it.

Master Qingfeng’s rich laugh echoed across the garden. "Yes, there should be no danger in her roaming outside the Treasure Pavilion now. Others won’t react as strongly to her demeanor. She appears as any practitioner of Lingdao Spirit Cultivation."

Lingdao... different from... Xiandao? Xiulan frowned. The Chinese terms blurred in her mind—she hadn’t perfectly memorized all the game’s terminology.

Spirit Cultivation and Immortal Cultivation remained clear enough to be distinct in her memory. Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles focused almost exclusively on Immortal Cultivation, though, with only certain NPCs and beasts using other forms.

The eastern barbarians practiced Body Cultivation, while the imperial family specialized in Jiandao—Sword Cultivation.

And then there’s Modao. Xiulan suppressed a shiver at the thought of Demonic Cultivation. The practitioners from the north sparked the cataclysm that had destroyed the kingdom in their quest to achieve Moxiu—Devil Cultivation.

Xiulan gestured to Mei Chen’s cultivation mat. "Master, was there another reason for us to be out here?"

Master Qingfeng exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping. "Yes indeed. Despite your recent progress, you remain dreadfully short of the skills needed to advance to Qi Gathering. Your meditation focus and tranquility especially need work." He smoothed his robes. "All night you spilled qi. I had Ming place spiritual talismans on the guest house to quell the black karma that escaped."

Heat rushed to Xiulan’s cheeks. The morning breeze did nothing to cool her embarrassment.

"It’s not Xiulan’s fault!" Mei Chen leaned forward on her mat. "She has been through a lot, and it stopped after—"

Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen. Stopped after? The realization struck—after Mei Chen had crawled into her bed and hugged her while they slept. Xiulan winced. Had her nightmares truly manifested such spiritual filth that it required intervention? The thought of her uncontrolled qi affecting the surrounding area made her stomach twist.

Master Qingfeng turned his stern gaze toward Mei Chen. "And you must begin cultivating discipline and spirit immediately. Even if it goes against your new nature, this remains the only way to stay by Miss Lin Xiulan’s side. If you fail or refuse to learn, she will eventually leave you behind to continue on her path alone."

Mei Chen straightened bolt upright, the medallion gleaming against her pale skin. "I’ll start right now! I promise to learn everything!"

A knot formed in Xiulan’s stomach. The thought of abandoning Mei Chen twisted like a blade between her ribs. She would slow or even halt her cultivation before leaving her friend behind. But that choice would only endanger them both in the end...

Xiulan studied Qingfeng’s weathered features. Perhaps he’d issued such a stark warning precisely to prevent her from making that sacrifice. The old master’s eyes held a knowing glint.

"You will both practice group meditation each morning while staying at the pavilion." Qingfeng’s tone brooked no argument. "Refuse, and you’ll find these doors closed to you."

Xiulan bowed deeply. "Yes Master, this humble one accepts guidance."

Mei Chen copied the gesture, her emerald robes pooling around her knees.

"Close your eyes. Focus on your breath." Qingfeng’s voice took on a measured cadence.

Xiulan tried to empty her mind, but thoughts crashed through like storm waves. The approaching army, defensive preparations, supply logistics—each concern demanded attention. While meditation might sharpen her judgment…

She feared only the release of blood would be enough to quell the violence on the horizon.