Chapter 8: Like Climbing a Mountain

With heads down and footsteps steady, they stepped onto a new stair, then another. The process was dull and flavorless, a repetitive, heavy grind.

The pace of most people gradually slowed. Figures moved like numbed zombies; some sat on the steps, unwrapping bundles to eat the vegetable cakes that would spoil most easily, while others rested for a moment after every step, clutching their knees before forcing out the next one.

Zora maintained a constant speed up the stairs, overtaking wave after wave of people until a gap formed. No living soul could be seen ahead, and behind her, none followed except Vane.

On either side, strands of mist seemed alive—at times crawling along the soil, at others hanging from treetops and slowly spinning themselves into spheres of white fog.

The stairs, which leaned toward white stone, imperceptibly shifted into a bluestone material. In appearance, they were no different from ordinary mortal paving stones, but being single-minded made one's spirit feel lighter, as if the soul were being cleansed. If one had stray thoughts—feeling thirsty, hungry, or thinking of other matters—their physical strength would be consumed much faster.

Food wrapped in the mist seemed to be entirely converted into supplements within the body; it produced no impurities, so naturally, there were no physiological needs. Thus, people only needed to eat, walk to recover strength, and sleep occasionally.

It was said that from the moment one stepped onto the heavenly stairway, the tempering of the physical body began.

The hundred-meter-wide stone steps were narrowing at a visible rate; the higher one went, the narrower they became.

Along the way, several trampled corpses lay piled in the middle. Blood had congealed on the blue stairs, their eyes wide in death, their food completely scavenged.

Zora bypassed them.

Vane paused for a moment before the bodies, then followed her.

They walked for a long time. The midday sun poured down, and the entire afternoon was nearly gone as the sun began its slow descent to the west.

The boy carried the heaviest pack, yet his body remained fresh. His constitution had indeed been tempered exceptionally well in the Demon Realm, but fifteen minutes after his breathing grew heavy and fatigue set in, his body suddenly felt much lighter, and he had continued until now.

It was likely because his dissipated cultivation had nourished his limbs, bones, and meridians, giving him slightly better stamina.

As for why his spiritual power could seep into his flesh and bone after only three days of entry—if the Oracle were there, it would say bluntly: "Because he practiced immortality in the Demon Realm, where the Demonic Seed is like a fish in water. Believe it or not, practicing demonic arts would make him even more advanced."

Vane slowed his pace, placing his feet exactly where Zora had stepped. He followed as fast as she walked.

A flush appeared on Zora’s cheeks, and her breathing grew much heavier, though she kept the rhythm steady through adjustment.

On this first day, there were not many dangers between the stairs.

When Zora truly could not walk any further, she stopped. Her calves felt weak and sore, and her throat felt uncomfortable from gulping down too much cold air.

She turned and spoke to Vane behind her: "Water."

Her voice was small, accompanied by tired gasps.

Vane placed the pack on the stairs, using his leg to prop it up so it wouldn't lose balance and roll down. He pulled out a water skin, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her.

After a few gulps, her throat felt much better. Zora said, "We’ll rest for a bit before continuing. Once the sun goes down and it gets dark, we don't need to keep going."

After all, darkness brought potential danger; no one knew if some unlucky soul who had been robbed was lying in wait ahead.

"Mhm."

Zora stood in place and didn't sit down immediately.

Vane was a few steps below her, making him shorter than her for once. He was looking down, re-tying the loose pack. His ponytail rested against his back, and a few strands tried to fall forward but were blocked by his shoulder, forming a small curve at the side of his neck.

Having settled the pack, Vane looked up to find her staring at him. He looked into her eyes and stood quietly for a while.

"..."

"..."

Alright, he was certain she was in a daze, simply using an object as a landing point for her gaze.

Vane turned his head slightly to look elsewhere.

Only after her breathing had calmed significantly did Zora sit down. Seeing Vane still standing, she said, "Sit here."

He fell silent for a few heartbeats before sitting beside her, holding the opening of the pack to keep it from falling.

Zora paid him no mind once he sat down to rest. She gazed down the mountain. Enveloped in white mist, the clouds seemed to breathe. A few small black dots were scattered far below on the stairway, unmoving—people who had walked all day and were now sitting to replenish their food.

Vane suddenly spoke: "There were no signs of fighting on those bodies just now, only trampling injuries. There shouldn't be any out-of-control conflicts ahead yet."

Zora propped up her chin, looking straight ahead: "There are actually quite few people."

Despite the mountain of people at the entrance of the Cloud Stairway, those actually on the stairs were far fewer.

"Because once you step on, there is no way back," Vane answered, glancing at her sideways.

The girl’s beautiful morning hairstyle hadn't been messed up yet, though a few stray hairs had poked out at her temples. Her ears and the slightly fleshy parts beneath her eyelids were flushed.

Vane was guessing whether, if they successfully climbed the stairs, she would let him enter the immortal sect.

She could lead him up the stairs and make him do everything else. Compared to being alone, this would make success easier, and then she could have him slit his own throat when they were close.

He didn't believe that those entering the sect were truly as free of "evil people" as rumors suggested, nor that the Immortal Cultivation Realm was a gathering place of gentlemen. Furthermore, he had never heard of a servant entering an immortal sect along with their master. Even in the most powerful families, the children could not bring a mortal into the sect to remain by their side.

Vane lowered his gaze, carefully avoiding any thoughts of "harming Zora" that would trigger the covenant, and fell into deep reflection.

The forest was silent. As the sun set, they walked a bit further, passing a few people lying on the stairs preparing for sleep. No one would strike up a conversation or make friends here; everyone was warily guarding their own food and bedding. The journey was always a scene of silence, occasionally broken by the raspy gasps of travelers.

The moment night descended, the two stopped.

The first day was much like ordinary mountain climbing; the Cloud Stairway had not yet bared its fangs, and they were lucky enough not to be caught by any illusions.

The two ate a little.

Zora lay down against the boundary. A single step was very narrow, so she couldn't lie flat; she slept leaning against the pack. Vane sat to one side, clearly intending to take a light nap while sitting.

The night was thin with stars, and all was silent.

Before sleeping, Zora stared at the sky in a daze for a while, only to find her waist bending further and further forward. The scenery in her vision changed from the beautiful starry sky to the stairway, forcing her to sit up straight.

"?"

The pack behind her was too heavy; once she relaxed, she was pushed downward and almost couldn't stay seated.

Vane was resting with his eyes closed when his body suddenly moved on its own. His closed eyes snapped open immediately.

Compared to the momentary sharpness in his dark eyes, his body was clumsy, standing up and bending over uncontrollably.

Zora was not skilled at more delicate operations and couldn't control his fingers or palms, so she simply had Vane bend over and lean against the pack, countering the slant. His face was buried into the surface of the pack.

Vane: "..."

The whole process took only an instant.

Zora let out a sigh of relief, then used her elbow to brace against the pack and carefully turned around.

The connection with the Puppet Threads was cut, and Vane immediately stood straight, grabbing the pack.

Suddenly, the sound of rolling came from above. A black mass approached rapidly.

Vane looked back, shifted his left foot, and turned sideways. The black object rolled past him.

Zora: "What was that?"

Vane: "Could be a person, an object, or a trap from someone ahead."

It was too dark to tell. At least the one during the day had looked like a person from afar. This time, if it were some heavy object, kicking it might easily result in kicking himself off.

The two watched the shadow of the black mass grow smaller as it disappeared below.

Once it was completely gone, Zora looked at Vane: "Hold the pack."

She pulled out a few sets of clothes from the pack to cushion the steps at the edge of the boundary and went to sleep.

Vane sat to one side.

Zora opened her eyes again and looked at him: "Come over here. If anyone approaches me, let out a shout."

Vane: "..."

He shifted his position and sat beside her.

Waking up, her back and arms were aching from the hard steps; the clothes hadn't provided much padding. The sky was beginning to brighten, and dawn was approaching.

Zora sat up, and Vane beside her opened his eyes almost at the same time.

She stuffed the clothes back into the pack, feeling that the buns on her head were loose and pulling on her scalp painfully.

"Did you bring a comb?" she asked.

Vane paused, then pulled an object from within his waist-belt—it was the wooden comb.

"I did."

Zora took the pack from his hands.

Vane moved to a step higher behind her and began to comb her hair, stroke by stroke.

Zora: "Just tie it up directly."

"Alright."

He undid the ox-horn buns and gathered her hair together. The boy lowered his eyes, his lashes dark and thick. His expression remained unchanged, his voice calm: "I will learn to do more things. I will become the best servant."

Zora felt the comb glide gently over her scalp, the movements tender. She gave an indifferent "Mhm."

Then, the boy’s clear voice sounded in her ear, in the same inquiring tone as an ordinary conversation.

"Once we reach the Immortal Cultivation Realm, can I still do things for you?"

Zora was stunned for a moment: "Are you planning to walk until you’re crippled?"

"...No."

Vane faltered for a moment before continuing circuitously: "Can I still comb your hair every day as your servant at the December Sect?"

"Can't you just run over early in the morning?"

Having received the answer he wanted, the boy suddenly fell silent, as if he had entered an illusion.

The strands of hair in his palm were cool and soft. He picked out the blue ribbon and tied the girl’s black hair behind her back—not a tight tie against the scalp, but a binding in the middle of the hair. He tucked the other ornaments back into his clothes along with the comb.

Zora turned around, the morning light reflecting in her brownish eyes. Her face still lacked expression. "Let's go."

She walked ahead, and Vane followed with the pack on his back.

He felt as if he were in a dream, having so easily crossed the greatest hurdle. Although entering the immortal gates would not break the Master-Servant Covenant or the Puppet Threads, she seemed never to have considered that once a servant entered the sect, they would be peers of the same sect, at least on the surface.

Why would she give him the chance to enter the immortal gates too? No one would want to be fellow disciples with their own slave.

Vane’s expression remained normal, but he felt the road beneath his feet was light, unlike yesterday.

Zora turned and stared at him: "I'm hungry."

"..."

Vane put down the pack and opened it: "What do you want to eat?"

"Vegetable cake."