Cultivation starts with picking up attributes-Chapter 41: Ch-: Sweet moments

Feng Yin’s brows furrowed.

"Bound by fate and trust..."

She glanced at him. He met her gaze but said nothing.

[Trial One: Complete a talisman creation. Failure to attune will result in expulsion—or death.]

Tian Shen sighed. "Figures." fгeewebnovёl.com

A desk materialized before them, adorned with two sets of talisman materials—spirit-infused paper, beast blood ink, jade-carved brushes.

Feng Yin took a deep breath. "We’ve never done this together before."

"We can try."

She hesitated.

"You trust me that much?"

He picked up a brush and offered her one.

"I want to. Let me."

Although Feng Yin doesn’t know Inscriptions, Tian Shen guided her. Their hands moved almost in unison, guided by unseen patterns in the air. It wasn’t just an exercise in skill—it was in synergy.

He felt her pulse through the ink, her emotion in the brushstrokes. She felt his hesitation, his suppressed grief, the deep wounds he hadn’t yet named aloud.

The talisman shimmered as they finished it, radiating harmonious light.

[Trial One complete. Proceed.]

The platform shifted again, drawing them deeper into the heart of the trial realm. The air turned warmer, the stars above growing brighter.

They came to a small garden, impossibly serene. At its center sat a woman’s statue—elegant, her hair flowing like ink, a scroll held close to her chest.

[Trial Two: Confront the weight of truth. One must walk through memory. The other must bear witness.]

Tian Shen felt something grip his chest.

Feng Yin stepped forward.

"Let me walk it."

But he caught her wrist.

"No. I need to."

She looked at him, stricken.

"You don’t—"

"I do."

A golden gate opened beside the statue. He walked into it.

The space inside twisted into a corridor of mirrors. Each reflection showed a moment from her past.

The mirror rippled.

Feng Yin appeared. Laughing, younger, innocent. Then older—shouting, angry at him for abandoning the her.

Another memory—him walking away from her after an argument.

His fists clenched, it was an illusion.

A voice echoed through the corridor.

"Do you blame her?"

He didn’t answer.

"Do you blame yourself?"

He closed his eyes.

He remembered the look in Feng Yin’s eyes when she thought he might never forgive her.

How she kept close despite the distance he put up. How she never stopped trying.

"No," he said softly.

"I... I was just afraid."

The mirrors shattered into motes of light.

When he emerged, Feng Yin was waiting.

She saw the wetness in his eyes, didn’t comment on it. Just reached for his hand and held it.

He gripped her hand back.

[Trial Two complete. Proceed.]

The realm shifted again, the stars falling into a spiral above them. At the center rose a final platform. Upon it sat a scroll sealed in seven talismans.

[Final Trial: Inheritance Claim. Only one may receive the legacy.]

Feng Yin looked at him.

He looked back.

She smiled.

"You take it. This place called to you. It chose you."

He shook his head.

"Then we take it together."

Together, they stepped onto the platform.

The talismans burst into light—not resisting, but celebrating.

The scroll opened slowly, revealing not a single technique but hundreds—compressed knowledge etched into divine parchment. Ink threads extended, touching both of their foreheads.

A flood of talisman knowledge surged into Tian Shen’s mind. Construction arrays. Sealing arts. Paper-forging techniques lost to time. More than that—experience points, and the soft chime of another upgrade.

[Auxiliary Profession: Talisman Master (4-star)]

Feng Yin gasped beside him.

"I can... feel some of it. It’s teaching me inscription principles."

The statue at the edge of the platform smiled faintly and then faded.

Above them, the spiral of stars folded inward.

The illusion began to collapse.

When they awoke, they were back in the underground hall. The jade cube had dimmed.

Feng Yin stretched, her bones popping.

"Okay. That was easily the weirdest inheritance trials I’ve ever experienced. The only one other than the Beast Spirit Sword Inheritance."

Tian Shen sat up, rubbing his temples.

"And also the most emotional."

She crawled over beside him. "You okay?"

He nodded slowly.

"You saved me in there. Not just from the place. From myself."

She touched his cheek.

"You don’t have to fight alone. Not anymore."

His hand covered hers.

Outside, the mists of the Ethereal Talisman Sect began to shift, parting slightly—as if acknowledging their success.

And far beneath the rubble and ruins, something old stirred once more.

The inheritance had been claimed.

But the story had only just begun.

The sun was sinking low over the makeshift tents of the Beast Taming Sect’s outpost when Tian Shen and Feng Yin burst through the boundary barrier, their faces smudged with dust and victory.

Behind them lay the battered ruins of the Ethereal Talisman Sect—its secrets pried open, its defenses bested, and a small treasure trove of scrolls and talismans tucked safely into their packs.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the central canvas mat—Tian Shen face-first, Feng Yin draped across his back like a contented cat.

"Ugh," groaned Tian Shen, muffled through the floor. "Do we really have to—"

"Rest," Feng Yin finished for him, patting his shoulder.

"You just pushed your Foundation Establishment Cultivation through adventure and alchemy breakthroughs. You deserve a break. Also, I need you awake for tonight, remember?"

Tian Shen sat up hastily, scrambling to brush dust off his robes.

"Right. Right. Dual cultivation. Absolutely."

He shot her a crooked grin.

"Did I mention that you owe me a proper apology for that ’dangerous seed’ you planted in my soul?"

Feng Yin snorted.

"I’ve apologized at least twenty times already. I’ve even shed real tears."

She raised an eyebrow.

"But you’re forgiven—at least until tomorrow."

He saluted her with mock solemnity.

"Your Excellency Feng Yin, Queen of My Heart, I accept your terms."

...

The sun dipped below the distant pines as the camp’s evening routine began.

The elders returned from their perimeter patrols, young disciples streamed back from foraging missions, and a trio of cooks set up a roaring cauldron of spicy stew.

Tian Shen and Feng Yin, hands intertwined, followed the fragrant steam to the communal bathhouse temporary setup—an ingenious assembly of hot-spring channeling and canvas walls.

"Ladies first," Tian Shen offered gallantly, bowing.

Feng Yin grinned. "Chivalry isn’t dead yet."

She stepped inside, her laughter echoing as the warm steam enveloped her.

Tian Shen hesitated at the entrance, spotted Elder Mo glowering from a corner towel rack, and pulled a face.

"I’ll... guard outside?"

Moments later, Feng Yin’s voice drifted through the mist.

"You promised to join me!"

He stomped in, disrobed, then froze, eyes wide.

The bath was—crowded. Core disciples scrubbed vigorously, outer disciples played tag with soapy towels, even Gu Wei was there, polishing a stone talisman with obsessive care.

Tian Shen squealed, covering his face and sprinting back out.

"Privacy! I demand privacy!"

Feng Yin emerged a moment later, cheeks pink, steam swirling around her.

"You just wanted to see me in a towel."

She teased, arms folded.

He clicked his tongue as he retorted.

"I am an honest cultivator! My principles are not tainted! I promise nothing was—"

She laughed, wiggled eyebrows, and stepped back in, inviting him with a sultry flip of her hair.

"Come on. Or do you really want Elder Mo to ask about my bubble sketches again?"

Tian Shen blanched. "Bubble... sketches?"

"Please," Feng Yin sighed.

"Tell me you didn’t miss that part."

She ducked back inside. He debated briefly, then dashed after her—resigned.

"For you, Bubbles Be Gone... I mean, privacy, my lady!"

Later, under a sky strewn with stars, the camp’s long central table groaned under steaming bowls of spicy stew, platters of roasted root vegetables, and freshly baked flatbread.

Tian Shen and Feng Yin sat side by side, elbows touching, eyes bright with hunger and laughter. Nearby, disciples swapped battle tales, Elders Mo and Elder Qiu exchanged bellicose grumbles about "youth these days" and "ancient formation maintenance."

Feng Yin handed Tian Shen a bowl of stew.

"Be Careful—it’s extra hot."

He blew on it ceremoniously, then slurped before noticing the spice. His eyes watered, he nearly choked.

"Eek!" he coughed.

Feng Yin giggled, wiping his face with a napkin.

"Worth it?"

She teased.

He gasped, tongue recovering.

"Delicious torture, thank you."

They tucked into dinner, feeding each other chunks of bread, passing ladles of stew, and occasionally stealing kisses between mouthfuls.

The surrounding disciples threw them amused glances—some even nudged each other, whispering, "They’re so cute!" Elders pretended not to notice but wore the faintest smiles.

...

Nightfall.

When moonlight silvered the camp, Tian Shen and Feng Yin slipped away from the communal area toward a secluded area.

They sat by a plain boulder, basking in the moon’s radiance. They embraced each other, soothing their heart and soul.

Feng Yin’s lips curved upward, relief and affection shining in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"For what?" he asked, voice low.

"For staying. For trusting. For choosing me." She reached up, brushing his hair back.

"My heart... it was lonely until you came along."

A warm tear slipped down his cheek. "Feng Yin... I—"

Before he could finish, her forehead pressed to his. They sank into each other’s arms, silent smiles blossoming.

"I love you," Tian Shen said softly.

Her arms tightened around him.

"I love you too. More than the seed ever could."

They lay there under the flickering moonlight—two souls, bound by choice and cultivation, stronger together than apart.