She immediately restrained the spiritual energy around her body, walked to the bedside, and gently sat on the edge of the couch. Reaching out, she brushed aside the stray hair from her son’s forehead. Her posture remained as gentle as ever, as if she had never left.
Outside the door, Xiao Jingyuan had originally come to check whether the child was safe. As he reached the entrance, he vaguely sensed an extremely faint fluctuation of spiritual energy.
Yet when he pushed the door open, he saw only Meng Wantang tenderly keeping watch beside the bed, her eyes filled with maternal softness.
He frowned, glanced around, found nothing unusual, and assumed it had been his imagination. Stepping forward, he asked in a low voice, “Is the child sleeping soundly?”
“Yes.” Meng Wantang looked up at him, her eyes carrying just the right amount of weariness. “He just fell asleep not long ago.”
Looking at her delicate face, that inexplicable stirring rose again in Xiao Jingyuan’s heart.
His Adam’s apple moved, but in the end he said nothing more, merely nodding before turning to leave.
He did not know that the Meng Wantang before him was no longer the frail woman he once believed her to be. Her spatial realm was already piled high with wealth that had belonged to Meng Wanqing.
Her strength had long surpassed his imagination, advancing at astonishing speed toward the supreme realm of cultivation.
Just as Meng Wantang teleported back from the villas, the lingering warmth of spatial spiritual energy still at her fingertips, her thoughts suddenly flashed to the empty space beside the alchemy furnace within her realm—a place meant for a core medicinal herb capable of stabilizing her foundation and nourishing spiritual power.
But among the treasures she had gathered earlier, she had not found it.
With a thought, she immediately recalled Mist-Hidden Mountain on the outskirts of the capital, a place sealed by the imperial family, its peak perpetually shrouded in mist.
At its summit grew a millennium-rare Condensing Dew Immortal Ganoderma, born upon cold stone.
Its petals were translucent like crystal, and the spiritual energy contained within could increase the power of a Foundation Establishment cultivator by thirty percent.
It was precisely what she needed at this moment.
Without hesitation, Meng Wantang cast a reassuring glance at her sleeping son.
Her figure merged into spatial ripples, and in the next instant she appeared at the peak of Mist-Hidden Mountain.
Cold winds howled at the summit, mist swirling like gauze. Upon a massive green stone, a gleaming white ganoderma emitted a faint spiritual glow, dew gathered upon its petals reflecting soft light.
It was indeed the Condensing Dew Immortal Ganoderma.
Joy flickered in Meng Wantang’s eyes as she stepped forward and reached out to pluck it.
But just as her fingertips were about to touch the petals, another cool set of fingers unexpectedly collided with hers.
The touch was clear and cool like jade, carrying the faint scent of medicinal herbs.
Meng Wantang’s heart tightened. She lifted her head abruptly and met a pair of deep, cold eyes like a still abyss.
The man before her wore a moon-white robe embroidered with subtle cloud patterns.
His ink-black hair was secured with a white jade hairpin, falling behind his shoulders.
Tall and slender, he seemed enveloped in a faint halo of light, almost unearthly. Yet his eyes were pale gray, nearly translucent.
When they looked upon her, there was no warmth—only barren indifference, as though nothing in the world could enter his sight.
It was him.
Meng Wantang’s gaze instantly turned cold.
Undisguised hostility flashed in her eyes.
She recognized him—Rong Jue, the National Preceptor.
The most revered spiritual authority of the dynasty.
And the master of her fourth brother, the most obsessed with alchemy and the most arrogant among her four elder brothers.
Scenes from her past life flooded her mind.
Back then, she had been a bullied concubine-born daughter, cornered in an alley and humiliated by wealthy young men.
They mocked her as lowly as mud, unworthy of bearing the Meng family name.
Her fourth brother, Meng Yunchong, happened to pass by. Not only did he not help her, he kicked her to the ground before everyone and sneered that she was an illegitimate daughter unfit to call him brother.
At that time, Rong Jue had stood behind Meng Yunchong in his spotless moon-white robe.
Looking down at her from above, his gaze held no pity—only complete indifference.
As if she were nothing more than an unsightly ant.
Then, she had been naive and timid, trembling in fear, crawling on the ground and begging for mercy like a trampled servant.
But now, she was no longer that person.
Rong Jue clearly recognized her as well.
His pale gray eyes shifted slightly, a trace of scrutiny appearing as he studied her face.
The woman before him bore no resemblance to the cowardly and lowly concubine-born daughter spoken of in rumors. The sharpness and coldness in her gaze stirred something faintly within him.
Before he could speak, Meng Wantang withdrew her hand and stepped back half a pace, her eyes icy as she stared at him.
“This Condensing Dew Immortal Ganoderma was discovered by me first. Naturally, it is mine.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned back and reached out again, her fingers precisely grasping the root.
With a slight exertion of force, she uprooted the entire ganoderma intact.
The moment it left the stone, its spiritual glow converged, transforming into a streak of white light that she instantly absorbed into her spatial realm.
Rong Jue’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
He had merely passed by, sensing spiritual fluctuations and coming to investigate—not intending to compete for the ganoderma.
Yet the woman before him was far too forceful, completely unlike her former reputation.
The hostility in her eyes was unmistakable, piquing a faint curiosity within him.
He said nothing, merely watching her, pale gray eyes as indifferent as ever.
But within that barren gaze, a trace of quiet inquiry had emerged.
The cold wind lifted his robe as he stood amid the mist, still carrying an air of immortality, though this brief pause lent him a hint of mortal presence.
Having obtained the ganoderma, Meng Wantang had no intention of lingering.
She knew Rong Jue’s strength was unfathomable. Having only just entered Foundation Establishment, she was not his match.
She shot him a cold glance and prepared to teleport away.
“Meng Wantang.” Rong Jue suddenly spoke, his voice clear as jade striking stone, carrying a peculiar resonance. “You are very different from before.”
Her steps paused briefly.
But she did not turn around, leaving him only a cool silhouette.
“People change,” she said with faint mockery. “As the esteemed National Preceptor, it is only natural that you forget what I used to be.”
With that, her figure dissolved into the mist and vanished from the mountaintop.
Rong Jue remained where he stood, gazing toward where she had disappeared, his brows knitting slightly tighter.
In his pale gray eyes, the barren indifference seemed to crack ever so slightly, replaced by a subtle attention even he had not consciously recognized.
Meng Wantang clenched the Condensing Dew Immortal Ganoderma in her hand, feeling the refreshing spiritual energy seeping through her fingertips, yet a thin layer of sweat had already formed on her back.
She knew her own strength clearly.
According to the cultivation hierarchy—from Body Tempering, Qi Gathering, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Spirit Transformation, Void Refinement, Integration, Mahayana, to Tribulation Transcendence—
She had only just broken through to the early stage of Foundation Establishment.
Before someone as powerful as Rong Jue, she was nothing more than an ant.
Snatching the ganoderma had been an impulsive act of pride. If they had truly fought, she would not have lasted even half a move.
Meng Wantang glanced back at the summit of Mist-Hidden Mountain.
The mist still lingered, but that moon-white figure had not pursued her.