Heavenly Wheel Ascension

Zhi Xuan slowly sank down, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor. From the folds of his robes, two small silhouettes darted out. Ao Sheng and Xiao Die emerged, landing before Zhi Xuan with faces etched with worry.

"Senior!" Xiao Die immediately approached, her tiny antennae emitting a warm, dark-purple silk glow, attempting to stabilize Zhi Xuan’s chaotic flow of spiritual essence. "Why did Senior do something so reckless? Challenging the Han Clan in front of their Great Elders... that is the same as inviting Death to tea!"

Ao Sheng snorted, dark-gold lightning crackling on his small horns. "Don't you see, Xiao Die? If Senior hadn't made that bet, Han Shanshan and those old fogeys would have attacked us right then and there. Senior has just bought us time at a very high price."

Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, allowing the energy from Xiao Die to seep into his fractured meridians. "The outside world is a place where strength is the only recognized law. By using the Gods Slaughter Crescent as a stake, I have made them hesitant to kill me instantly. They want the weapon intact, and they want their dignity restored through Shanshan’s official victory."

He took a long breath, suppressing the lingering turbulence of the Jiu-Quan water in the depths of his mind. "Ao Sheng, Xiao Die... in these twenty years, we can no longer appear openly."

"Where will we go, Senior?" Ao Sheng asked, his golden eyes flashing with anticipation.

Zhi Xuan opened his eyes, staring toward the mouth of the cave that looked out directly over the vast ocean. "Until I reach Divine Transformation, this body of mine remains distinct from His Excellency. They... will not easily find my trail unless it leads back to him."

"However," Zhi Xuan continued, his voice hoarse like the grinding of tombstones, "this world never lacks rats with a keen sense of smell. Twenty years is a short time for a practitioner, but for a prey pursued by nine hunters, every breath will feel like a thousand possibilities of being killed."

He stood up momentarily, feeling more recovered than before. He waved his hand, and in an instant, his robes turned a dark brown; he allowed his hair to hang loose and unbundled, giving the impression of a wanderer once more.

"Cang Hai is entirely ocean," Zhi Xuan murmured. He stepped out of the cave, followed by the two small figures behind him. "The floating lands above... at least they are far from the Eastern Ocean City."

He looked upward at the magnificent expanse of floating islands, far from the territories scrutinized by the Bai Ancient Clan. "Let us go. Xiao Die, Ao Sheng."

Zhi Xuan stepped out from the shelter of the coral, letting the moisture-laden sea breeze hit his face. Below the cliffs, the waves crashed against the rocks with a thunderous roar, but above, the floating land he sought appeared calm, hanging among the grey clouds like a divine island.

Ao Sheng, now curled on Zhi Xuan’s shoulder in his tiny dragon form, whispered low, "Senior, Cang Hai is very different from Xing Lu or other plains, yet Senior chooses a distant land. Will Senior truly remain here in silence?"

"No, Ao Sheng," Zhi Xuan replied without looking back. "A dragon may disguise itself as a snake, but it will not last long before other dragons catch the imposter with ease."

He faded into a shadow, soaring upward. After traveling thousands of fathoms into the sky, they finally set foot on a vast floating continent. The place lacked the grandeur of other Cang Hai regions; there were only large cities and sects whose fluctuations did not suggest the presence of Divine Transformation practitioners.

Zhi Xuan appeared in a city, standing right in the middle of a street as he began to walk calmly. He walked with his shoulders slightly lowered, hiding the majesty of his spine and his strikingly tall frame.

"Look at this city," Zhi Xuan whispered inwardly to the two figures hiding within his robes. "They live in ignorance of the storm that just occurred in the Cang Hai Ocean. To them, Divine Transformation is a legend, while to us, it is a blade pressed against the throat."

He passed a small tavern crowded with practitioners, most of whom were at the Five Elements or Soul Transformation stages. Zhi Xuan stopped for a moment; he turned and listened to a man who seemed to be offering a scroll.

The man wore a worn-out bamboo hat, his grimy hands holding a parchment scroll that looked yellowed by age. Around him, several low-level practitioners listened with wide eyes, as if the man were reading a decree from the heavens.

"The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is looking for Shadow Elders!" the man shouted, his voice raspy yet enthusiastic. "It is said they are being pressured by the other two major sects after their defeat in the struggle for the spiritual stone mines!"

"The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path? What are you talking about, old man?" one practitioner scoffed. "That sect doesn't even have high-level practitioners. It’s no wonder they were defeated and oppressed."

"The name is 'Pavilion of the Heavenly Path'—what a joke," another practitioner sneered, spitting to the side. "I thought there was something interesting, but it's just that pathetic sect. If it collapses, let it collapse."

"You young people really don't know how to respect history!" The man in the bamboo hat snorted, his trembling fingers stroking the edge of the parchment with a movement that almost resembled worship. "The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path may no longer be a giant capable of shaking the Cang Hai Plains, but did you know? Thousands of years ago, even the Elders of the Ancient Clans had to descend from their palanquins when passing through that sect's gates!"

A young practitioner with a sword on his back laughed dismissively, his voice ringing through the crowd. "Old man, past glory cannot be used to buy healing pills today. The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is now nothing more than an old shack waiting to fall. I heard the Black Bamboo Sect and the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses have already divided their territory on paper. Within one full moon, the name of that pavilion will be erased from the map of this floating land!"

"Exactly," chimed in a woman in practical attire. "Last week, I passed the foot of their mountain. The gates are already cracked, and the disciples are reduced to just a few young practitioners who must be crazy to still be there. Who would want to be a 'Shadow Elder' there? It’s the same as being a graveyard guard!"

Old Man Lu coughed, his face flushing with suppressed emotion. "That is why they are seeking Shadow Elders! They need protection. At least, that is all they can hope for!"

"Protection, is it?" the young sword-practitioner sneered again, even more cynically this time. "Who would want to protect a sect on the verge of collapse? I feel sorry enough for the young practitioners who should be living better lives in other sects. But look at them, still staying in that rat's nest!"

"Ah, Old Lu is still boasting about that dilapidated shack," added a one-eyed man who had been leaning against a tavern post, his fingers busy spinning a low-quality spiritual stone. "Listen, Lu. The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is now nothing more than a joke in the ears of merchants."

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"Not only that," a nearby old physician added, packing his herbs and joining in with a tone of concern. "I heard their Sect Leader, that old man Xu, has already suffered severe internal injuries from the pressure of the Black Bamboo Sect. If he falls, their history is over. Those remaining disciples? They are just a bunch of rats who don't know where to run."

"But isn't it good to protect a sect?" piped up a teenager who seemed to have just begun his cultivation journey, his eyes still radiating an innocence untainted by the cruelty of the world. "Perhaps, whoever does so might be blessed by the heavens."

Instantly, laughter erupted throughout the tavern. The laughter was harsh and full of contempt.

"Blessed by the heavens? Kid, you make me laugh!" The young practitioner with the sword slapped the teenager’s shoulder so hard he winced. "You call protecting a collapsing sect a blessing from the heavens? You’re still too naive, boy."

"Right," the one-eyed man joined in again. "The Black Bamboo Sect only wants the fertile land beneath those mountains to plant their sword-bamboo. Meanwhile, the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses wants its spiritual springs. The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is just a roadblock that will soon be cleared with a single stomp from a Soul Transformation practitioner."

"You all... you don't understand!" Old Man Lu cried out, his voice now trembling violently, his eyes scanning the crowd with a look full of despair. "That pavilion stands atop a unique earth vein. Anyone with the courage, even with a meager cultivation base—that Pavilion will give them whatever they have left!"

"Whatever they have left? Haha! Probably just broken treasures and low-tier technique scrolls!" shouted a burly man from another corner. "Lu, if you care so much, why don't you become their elder? Ah, I forgot, you can't even circulate essence to your fingertips!"

Laughter roared again, making the tavern's atmosphere feel increasingly suffocating for anyone with a conscience. Old Man Lu could only hang his head, rolling up his yellow parchment with trembling hands. He looked like the remnants of glory forced to witness the slow death of something he loved.

Zhi Xuan stood still, his eyes as deep as an ancient well, watching Old Man Lu's back as he slowly walked away, ignoring the ridicule still flowing from the mouths of the mortal practitioners.

Zhi Xuan stood frozen for a moment, letting the noise flow past his ears like meaningless wind. On his shoulder, Ao Sheng let out a small snort that only Zhi Xuan could hear.

"Senior, are you really interested in the graveyard these humans are talking about?" the little dragon whispered, his golden eyes watching Old Man Lu’s hunched back disappear.

Zhi Xuan did not answer with words. He stepped forward slowly, following Old Man Lu’s shadow from a distance. His steps were light, barely touching the dust of the road, yet every footfall brought a strange silence around him.

"A dragon wishing to hide will not enter the lair of another dragon," Zhi Xuan thought, his eyes fixed on the sky of the floating land shrouded in thin mist. "He will look for the hole the world notices least. A place where death is at the doorstep is a place where the eyes of hunters will never turn."

He caught up with Old Man Lu in a damp, narrow alley, far from the market crowds. The old man was sitting on a stone block, staring blankly at the worn parchment in his hand, as if looking at his own tombstone.

"Shadow Elder," Zhi Xuan’s voice was low and calm, but in the silence of the alley, it sounded like the tolling of an ancient bell that awakened the soul.

Old Man Lu gasped, his bamboo hat nearly falling off as he looked up. He saw a youth in dark-brown robes with hair flowing freely. The youth's face showed no emotion, but his eyes were like dead stars. Old Man Lu, who was used to seeing arrogant practitioners in the city, suddenly felt as though his breath were held by an invisible weight.

"You... who are you, Young Man?" Old Man Lu asked with a trembling voice. "If you've come to mock me like those people in the tavern, you’d better leave. My heart is already too full of insults today."

"I did not come to mock," Zhi Xuan stepped closer, his tightly hidden aura still giving off an impression of cold authority. "How much is left of the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path?"

Old Man Lu was stunned. He looked at the youth, searching for signs of mockery, but all he found was pure coldness. He took a long breath, his hunched shoulders sagging further.

"Only four pavilions remain somewhat grand," Lu answered sorrowfully. "The Sect Leader may have been buried by now. All that’s left are a few poor kids with no home to go to, and a name that will soon be buried by black bamboo and the lotuses of the Thousand Valley."

"Take me there," Zhi Xuan said curtly.

Old Man Lu stared at Zhi Xuan in disbelief. "Are you... are you serious, Young Man? To the place people call a rat's nest?" He looked for doubt on Zhi Xuan’s face, but the youth before him remained like the surface of a lake at midnight—black, deep, and without a ripple.

"Take me," Zhi Xuan repeated, this time with a slightly heavier tone, as if his words were a non-negotiable decree.

With trembling hands, Old Man Lu tucked his parchment inside his worn clothes and stood up. "Very well. If you truly wish to see what glory looks like while breathing its last, then come with me."

The sound of Old Man Lu’s feet dragging across the cobbled market streets was pathetic, contrasting with Zhi Xuan’s silent yet steady steps. As they re-entered the bustling market area, the sharp eyes of the mortal practitioners once again fell upon them. This time, the laughter that erupted was far louder than before.

"Look! Old Lu actually found prey!" shouted the young swordsman from the tavern, standing in the middle of the road with his hands on his hips, blocking their path. "Hey, Lu! Where did you pick up this beggar? Did you promise him a lunch of leftover offerings from the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path's graves?"

Old Man Lu bowed his head low, his hands clutching the hem of his shabby shirt. "Move aside, boy. This youth wants to see our sect... do not bother him."

"See your sect?" The burly man from the corner table also stepped forward, looking Zhi Xuan up and down with a contemptuous gaze. "Kid, look at yourself! Drab brown robes, messy hair, and you aren't even carrying a weapon. You’re better suited for begging than joining a sect that’s about to be leveled to the ground!"

"Maybe he really is a crazy beggar," chimed in a woman with a shrill laugh. "Hey, Beggar! Do you know that joining the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is the same as handing your neck to the Black Bamboo Sect? You think they'll give you a bed? You'll probably just sleep on the bones of their ancestors!"

Zhi Xuan remained silent, staring straight ahead as if the people around him were merely a swarm of buzzing insects. However, his calmness only provoked the young swordsman's anger.

"Hey, mute! I'm talking to you!" the youth barked, swinging his hand to roughly slap Zhi Xuan’s shoulder. "Are you deaf? Or did you lose your tongue from hunger? If you need money, crawl under my feet, and I’ll give you one low-grade spiritual stone. That’s far more valuable than anything from that Heavenly Path!"

"Enough!" Old Man Lu shouted with a shaky, hoarse voice. "Let him pass! He is just a traveler seeking shelter!"

"Shelter?" The one-eyed man laughed so hard he held his stomach. "Lu, you’re truly hilarious! A beggar seeking shelter in a rat's nest? That’s called mass suicide! Hey, everyone look! The candidate for the 'Shadow Elder' of the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path has been found! A beggar who can't even tie his own hair!"

The entire market cheered, and some people began throwing fruit peels and trash at them. "Get out of here, Beggar! Go to your shack and die in peace!"

"Don't let them dirty the city any longer!" cried a cloth merchant with a cynical face. "The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path is nothing but bad luck! And this beggar looks like a plague-bearer!"

Zhi Xuan stopped walking for a moment. He glanced slowly at the young practitioner whose hand was still hanging in the air, about to touch his shoulder. The sapphire glint in his eyes dimmed, leaving a void that caused the young practitioner to suddenly feel a cold chill pierce his tailbone, even though Zhi Xuan hadn't released a single drop of essence pressure.

"If you wish to live to see tomorrow," Zhi Xuan’s voice was extremely low, like a deathly whisper from behind a veil, "then pull back your hand."

The young practitioner froze. His heart hammered for no apparent reason. However, feeling embarrassed in front of the crowd, he forced himself to bark back. "Y-you dare threaten me?! You’re just a beggar who—"

"Begone," Zhi Xuan’s voice was short, but it shook the youth before him so deeply that his soul felt momentarily uprooted by a mountain-like pressure, before snapping back and causing the youth to collapse, gasping for air.

The swordsman fell to the dusty ground, both hands clutching his chest as if his lungs had just been squeezed by an invisible giant. His face, once full of arrogance, was now deathly pale, and cold sweat drenched his back. He tried to scream, but the sound caught in his throat, leaving only a raspy, terrified wheeze.

The once boisterous crowd suddenly fell dead silent. An awkward stillness enveloped the market, as if time itself had been stolen. They hadn't seen Zhi Xuan move, nor felt a burst of divine essence, yet their instincts told them that something horrific had just occurred.

Zhi Xuan did not give a second glance to the youth still gasping in the dust. He resumed his walk, passing through the crowd that now parted like a receding tide of paralyzing fear. Old Man Lu, with wide eyes and his mouth agape, quickly regained his senses and stumbled ahead to lead the way, not daring to look back.