Yueying woke to silence.
Not the quiet of a closed room, or the muffled stillness of sleep, but something vast and open—so wide it pressed in from all sides. The sensation startled her awake, breath catching as she instinctively tensed.
She was lying on grass.
Soft. Cool. Real.
Her fingers curled, brushing against blades that bent easily beneath her touch. A faint breeze stirred, carrying with it the clean scent of sky and something subtly medicinal—like crushed leaves warmed by sunlight.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Blue stretched endlessly above her.
Not a ceiling. Not clouds seen through a window.
Sky.
Pure and uninterrupted, so bright it made her squint. She pushed herself upright, heart pounding, and froze.
There was no ground beyond the edge.
The land beneath her feet ended abruptly a short distance away, dropping off into nothing but open air. Below—far below—were layers of drifting cloud, slow and dreamlike, hiding whatever lay beneath.
An island.
A small one, no larger than a courtyard, suspended impossibly in the heavens.
"…I'm dreaming," Yueying thought hazily.
It had to be a dream. Nothing else made sense. The pain had been too intense, too overwhelming—this was the mind's way of escaping it.
She raised her hands and pinched her cheek, waiting for the familiar dullness of a dream.
Instead, pain flared, sharp and undeniable.
Her pulse quickened.
Before panic could take hold, movement caught her eye.
Something pale slid through the grass a few steps away, smooth and unhurried. Yueying turned just in time to see a small snake lift its head, sunlight glinting off white scales that shimmered faintly like polished jade.
Its eyes were a soft, luminous blue.
It regarded her calmly, head tilted slightly, as if curious.
Yueying stared at it for a long moment.
"…Of course," she thought faintly. "A snake."
If this was a dream, it was certainly committed to being strange.
She knelt slowly, careful not to startle it, and reached out. The snake didn't retreat. It remained perfectly still as her fingers brushed its head, smooth and cool beneath her touch.
She let out a shaky breath, something close to a laugh forming silently in her chest.
"This is definitely a dream," she murmured to herself. "I don't even like snakes."
The snake blinked.
Then it spoke.
"This is no dream, little one."
Yueying recoiled so fast she nearly lost her balance, scrambling backward until she hit the invisible boundary of the island. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as she stared at the creature, mind reeling.
"You—" She opened her mouth instinctively.
No sound came.
The snake sighed.
"A shame," it said mildly. "But I suppose that, too, is my fault."
Her eyes widened.
The snake lifted itself slightly, coiling with an elegance that felt far too deliberate for an ordinary creature. Up close, she could see faint patterns etched into its scales—complex and flowing, like the diagrams she had once seen in old medical texts.
"Heavenly divine beast," it replied, voice steady. "Formerly. My name is Bai Xuan—the divine beast who once presided over the path of medicine."
Yueying stared at him, her thoughts tumbling over one another.
Heavenly divine beast.
Medicine.
Formerly.
The words echoed, struggling to settle into meaning.
"That's… not possible," she said faintly.
The sound of her own voice carried across the island.
Clear. Unbroken.
She froze mid-breath.
Her eyes widened slowly as realization crept in, sharp enough to make her dizzy.
She had spoken.
Not strained.
Not forced.
Not cut short halfway through.
She lifted a trembling hand to her throat, fingers brushing against warm skin. There was no resistance. No invisible barrier waiting to close. When she swallowed, the motion was smooth—effortless.
"I—" she began, then stopped.
Her voice was still there.
Yueying let out a shaky laugh, half-disbelieving. "I didn't even notice," she said, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I thought… I thought it was just part of the dream."
She took a step forward.
Then another.
Her body responded immediately, without delay or weakness. Strength flowed through her limbs in a way she had never felt before—light, responsive, alive.
Her breath came easier too, filling her chest fully for the first time she could remember.
Bai Xuan watched her quietly.
"It is not a dream," he said again, more softly this time. "You simply did not realize what had changed."
She turned to him sharply. "You did something to me."
"Yes."
Her heart skipped. "What did you do?"
"When you absorbed the jade," Bai Xuan replied, "I used the last remnants of my spiritual power."
A faint dimness passed over his white scales as he spoke, the glow along their edges dulling almost imperceptibly.
"Your body was bound," he continued. "Its pathways obstructed. Your voice restrained at the source. I could not guide you properly while those remained."
Yueying's fingers curled slowly.
"So you… removed them," she said.
"Released them," Bai Xuan corrected. "Completely."
Her breath caught.
"That power," he went on, "was all I had left. Everything that remained of my former cultivation."
She stared at him, chest tight.
"And this place?" she asked quietly, gesturing around them.
The island no longer felt barren now that she looked properly. The grass was richer than she had realized, threaded with faint veins of light. Beyond it, low stone paths curved naturally through clusters of unfamiliar herbs, their leaves glossy and vibrant, heavy with scent. A small stream trickled nearby, its water clear and luminous.
"This is my spirit garden," Bai Xuan said. "Or rather—what it has become."
He lifted his head slightly. "When your restraints were removed, your spiritual sea stabilized. It shaped itself around intent, memory, and affinity. I anchored myself here."
Her mind raced.
"So this is inside me," she said slowly.
"Yes."
"And my body?"
"Asleep," Bai Xuan replied. "Recovering. Adjusting to a state it has never known."
Yueying swallowed, grounding herself.
Her physician's instincts stirred, sharper now than ever. She flexed her fingers again, noting the immediate response, the absence of resistance. Her voice—steady. Her breath—full.
"How… why did you do this for me?" She asked, slightly suspicious now.
"I am your master now." Bai Xuan replied simply. "Your blood destroyed my barrier and we are now bound. Of course I would do anything for my new dear disciple."
"Master…" Yueying said slowly, the word foreign to her. "But what about your cultivation?"
"It's gone only for now. When you train and cultivate, I will also gain power. We shall grow together." Bai Xuan forked out its tongue and smiled.
"Cultivate?" Yueying asked breathlessly. "I can really do that now?!"
"Of course!" Bai Xuan chuckled and with a blur of motion it slid up to Yueying shoulders. "And because you haven't started cultivating yet, I have the perfect cultivation method to build your foundation. Heaven defying doctor."
"Heaven defying doctor." Yueying's eyes widened as she repeated the name. "That sounds… powerful."
Bai Xuan nodded its head excitedly. "It's the best cultivation method for doctors. It has the power to direct Qi to the size of a thread of hair. Also, as you breakthrough to the higher levels, you will gain enlightenment on more and more medical knowledge."
"This seems too good to be true." Yueying frowned.
"Indeed." Bai Xuan chuckled, you must have been a saint in your past life to have the luck to find me now."
"…Why?" Yueying asked at last. "Why would you do all this for me?"
Her voice was steady, but her gaze sharpened—alert now, cautious in the way of someone who had learned that gifts were rarely free.
Bai Xuan regarded her calmly.
"Because you are my master now," he said simply.
The words landed heavier than she expected.
"When your blood touched the jade," he continued, "the final barrier binding me was broken. Our spirits are now intertwined. Where you go, I follow. Where you grow, I grow."
He paused, then added, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "It would be unreasonable not to act in your interest."
"Master…" Yueying repeated quietly. The word felt strange on her tongue—too heavy, too absolute. "Then what about you? Your cultivation—"
"Dormant," Bai Xuan corrected. "Not lost."
Her breath caught.
"My power was expended to free you," he explained. "But cultivation is not hoarded—it is accumulated. As you cultivate, your spiritual sea will strengthen. And as it does…"
His blue eyes gleamed faintly.
"…so will I."
A spark flared in her chest.
"So we'll grow together," she said slowly.
"Yes."
Yueying swallowed. "Then that means…"
She hesitated, almost afraid to voice it.
"I can cultivate?"
Bai Xuan's expression shifted, something close to amusement flickering across it.
"Of course," he said. "If you could not, you would already be dead."
Her eyes widened. "You're serious."
"Entirely."
Before she could respond, Bai Xuan moved—his body a white blur as he slid up and settled lightly across her shoulders, cool scales resting against the back of her neck. The weight was negligible, but the presence was unmistakable.
"And because you have not yet begun cultivation," he continued, voice close now, "your foundation remains untouched."
Her heart pounded.
"That means," he said, almost pleased, "you can begin properly."
He lifted his head slightly.
"I will teach you a cultivation method uniquely suited to healers. One I once guarded at the height of the heavens."
"…What is it called?" Yueying asked.
"Heaven-Defying Doctor."
The name echoed through her, sharp and resonant.
"Heaven-Defying Doctor," she repeated, awe slipping into her voice. "That sounds… dangerous."
Bai Xuan's eyes curved faintly.
"It is precise," he corrected. "It refines qi to the fineness of a single thread—thin enough to pass where brute force cannot. As your cultivation advances, you will not merely grow stronger. You will gain insight. Knowledge. Understanding."
"Medical understanding?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Her pulse quickened.
"This sounds too perfect," Yueying said after a moment, suspicion creeping back in. "Nothing comes without a cost."
Bai Xuan chuckled softly.
"Indeed," he agreed. "But if you insist on knowing why fortune favors you…"
He flicked his tongue lightly, amused.
"…then perhaps you truly were a saint in your previous life."
Yueying let out a short, incredulous laugh. A saint? If that was true, then sainthood was severely overrated. She would have called it something far less flattering—being a pushover, more like.
Whatever she had been before, it wasn't something she intended to repeat.
She straightened, resolve settling in her chest.
"Then how do I begin?" she asked. "I don't want to waste any time."