Heavenly Wheel Ascension

The moment the brown-robed figure moved a few steps away, the suffocating pressure finally began to ease, allowing the crowd to draw breath once more.

"What... what just happened?" whispered the cloth merchant, his voice trembling so violently that the fabric in his hands fell into the mud. "That aura... I felt as if I were staring into the gates of death."

The one-eyed man, who had been leaning against the tavern post, was no longer spinning his spiritual stone. His hand was stiff, and the stone fell with a clink onto the wooden floor. "He... he isn't a beggar. By the Celestial Gods, he is absolutely not a beggar! Who exactly did we just insult?"

Everyone’s gaze turned toward the young swordsman still huddled on the ground. The youth tried to crawl up, but his hands continued to shake as if his bones had turned to water. His eyes were vacant, filled with the remnants of a horror that words could not explain.

"Hey! Are you alright?" asked the burly man, his voice no longer loud but raspy and filled with caution. He stepped closer, yet his hand hesitated to touch the youth.

"Don't... don't come near me!" the young practitioner suddenly screamed, his voice reaching a high-pitched hysteria. "You didn't feel it... you didn't see it! With just his voice, I saw thousands of swords piercing my soul!"

The woman who had laughed shrilly earlier now covered her mouth with both hands, her heavily made-up face pale as a corpse. "Just now... I called him a plague-bearer. Oh, Heavens... if he took offense, will he come back and tear out my tongue?"

"Shut up, you fool! Do you want him to hear you?" the one-eyed man hissed with a terrified expression. He glanced toward the alley where Zhi Xuan had vanished, then hurriedly packed his belongings. "I'm leaving. I don't care about these spiritual stones anymore."

"But I couldn't even see his cultivation!" the old physician added, his voice shaking as he picked up his scattered herbs. "That wasn't just cultivation pressure. That was an Intent—but what kind of intent could be that sharp?"

"Old Man Lu... he truly brought a monster to his shack," the cloth merchant muttered, watching the crowd begin to disperse in a quiet frenzy—each person wanting to get as far away from the area as possible. "You said the Black Bamboo Sect would level that place? I bet their bamboo will wither before it even touches the gates if that man is there."

Meanwhile, Old Man Lu was still walking with knees that felt weak. He didn't dare look back, yet he could feel Zhi Xuan’s presence behind him like a mountain overshadowing his back. The whispers of fear from the market still rang in his ears, but in his heart, a small flame that had nearly died out suddenly sparked again.

"Young Man," Old Man Lu’s voice was very soft, almost choked by his own emotions. "Whoever you truly are... whether you are a God or a Devil in disguise... I thank you. It has been years since anyone stood by the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path in such a way."

"Zhang Shui," Zhi Xuan replied, introducing himself without saying much more.

Old Man Lu nodded repeatedly, murmuring the name as if reciting a sacred mantra. "A peaceful name... Zhang Shui. Calm Water. It truly suits your demeanor, Young Man."

They left the bustle of the city and began to tread a path ascending toward the mountains. The higher they climbed, the thicker the vegetation became, yet it felt dry, as if the essence of life in this mountain had been forcibly sucked away. After traveling for half a day, a large stone archway, cracked on many sides, appeared before them.

"We have arrived," Old Man Lu whispered, his voice heavy with grief.

In the front courtyard overgrown with weeds, three teenagers wearing patched grey robes were practicing with stiff movements. Their weapons were merely low-tier spiritual tools. Upon seeing Old Man Lu arrive with a stranger, they immediately stopped and raised their weapons warily, though their hands trembled.

"Grandfather Lu! Who have you brought?" shouted one disciple, a youth with a dusty face but a stubborn glint in his eyes. "If he is from the Black Bamboo Sect, tell him we will not surrender even if we must die!"

"Calm down, Mu Chen! Lower your weapon!" Old Man Lu hurried forward, out of breath. "This is Senior Zhang Shui. He... he is our prospective Shadow Elder."

The three disciples were stunned. They stared at Zhi Xuan, who stood calmly in his brown robes. There was no flash of a sword, no oppressive aura—just a youth who looked like an ordinary wanderer.

"Shadow Elder?" Mu Chen snorted bitterly, lowering his spiritual weapon. "Grandfather Lu, don't joke. Even our last Elder fled last month after taking the sect's remaining spiritual stones. Why would a sane person want to be an elder in a place that will soon become a graveyard?"

Zhi Xuan did not answer Mu Chen; instead, he spoke inwardly. "Great Saint, what do you think of this place? The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path... its name suggests it was once a place where gods were born."

"A truly bold name," Ruo Xianxue’s voice echoed in Zhi Xuan’s mind, her tone carrying a subtle cynicism but filled with ancient knowledge. "The Heavenly Path... perhaps only those who have cultivated to Divine Transformation would dare use such a name."

Zhi Xuan shifted his gaze from his inner vision back to the three disciples before him. He stepped forward, passing through the cracked archway without making a sound. Each step seemed to press down on the weeds growing between the stone cracks, yet strangely, the grass seemed to stand upright again, as if receiving a small spark of life.

"Where is your Sect Leader?" Zhi Xuan asked. His voice wasn't loud, yet Mu Chen and his companions felt as if the voice originated from within their own minds.

Mu Chen was dazed; the anger that had been burning in his eyes suddenly turned into a strange confusion. He quickly regained his senses, his face turning sorrowful. Mu Chen clenched his fists tightly, the trembling in his body unable to be hidden.

"Sect Leader Xu’s time has run out after sacrificing his cultivation to strengthen the formation," Mu Chen said, his voice quivering. "This is all due to his battle with the Black Bamboo Sect some time ago."

Zhi Xuan swept his gaze across the suffering sect. He saw pillars that might have once been plated in gold now peeling, leaving behind rotting wood gnawed by time.

"A futile sacrifice," Zhi Xuan said flatly, making Mu Chen flinch. "Strengthening a formation with one's lifespan is not protection; it is merely delaying destruction in the most pathetic way."

"You! What right do you have to speak that way about our Master?!" roared a female disciple behind Mu Chen, her eyes swollen from tears that had not yet dried. "He gave everything so that we wouldn't be dragged away as mine slaves!"

Zhi Xuan did not answer. He stared at Mu Chen for a moment, piercing through the youth's mortal frame to find a Divine Wheel with a reasonably strong Soul Fire. "A Blood Transformation practitioner—you are quite young to have reached that," Zhi Xuan said, his tone carrying a hint of acknowledgment.

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Mu Chen was startled, his dusty face turning pale. He didn't expect the foreign senior before him to see his cultivation level with just a glance.

"How did you..." Mu Chen left the sentence hanging; he felt Zhi Xuan’s aura was flat yet stable, like the surface of a bottomless ancient well.

"Follow me," Zhi Xuan did not wait for an answer. He walked past them toward the main building located at the top of the stone stairs.

Old Man Lu immediately signaled the three disciples to follow. They walked in a heavy silence, passing through halls where the roofs had begun to leak. Upon reaching the main hall, the smell of bitter medicine and the scent of death greeted their senses. On a simple wooden bed, an old man with hair as white as snow lay stiffly. His breathing was very shallow, and the life aura around him was dim.

This was Xu Yunchuan; his cultivation was at a regressed Soul Transformation stage. Zhi Xuan stood by the bed. He saw how the Sect Leader’s Divine Wheel had cracked after being forced to burn his cultivation base to maintain the mountain’s protective formation.

Zhi Xuan reached out his hand, his fingers hovering inches above Xu Yunchuan’s chest. He could feel a piercing cold energy remaining—it was a poison from the Black Bamboo technique that had taken root, gnawing away at what was left of the Sect Leader's bone marrow.

"Burning the soul to hold the formation while the body has been contaminated by the enemy’s poison," Zhi Xuan hissed, his eyes narrowing coldly. "Your death might make you a hero to your disciples, but to your enemies, this is merely an entertaining show."

"Stop insulting our Master!" Mu Chen shouted, stepping forward to grab Zhi Xuan’s robe, but he suddenly stopped as if hitting a wall of solid air. He couldn't move, not even to blink.

Zhi Xuan did not look back. He raised his hand, and immediately a Six Paths Reincarnation disc appeared in his palm. A peaceful aura from the Human Path and a divine aura from the Deva Path entered Xu Yunchuan’s body, wrapping around the old man's Divine Wheel and attempting to regrow vitality from the Tree of Life.

"Xiao Die," Zhi Xuan commanded calmly.

From the folds of Zhi Xuan’s brown robes, a small moth with a mystical wing pattern darted out, its shimmering wings releasing fine light powders. The powder descended upon Xu Yunchuan’s body, seeping through his wrinkled skin.

"An insect... a spiritual insect?" muttered the still-frozen Mu Chen, his eyes wide as he saw how the powder began to react with the black poison in his master's veins.

The poison from the Black Bamboo Sect, which had hardened like icy thorns within Xu Yunchuan’s meridians, began to melt and evaporate as foul-smelling black smoke. Xiao Die flapped her wings once more, creating a small vortex that sucked in the poisonous smoke, swallowing the remnants of that energy as raw nutrition.

Zhi Xuan turned his palm, and a single drop of liquid—the pure essence of a Weaver Transformation practitioner—fell exactly on the Sect Leader's forehead. As the liquid touched the skin, a wave of vitality exploded from within. Xu Yunchuan’s cracked Divine Wheel began to emit a chiming sound, its fissures closing back together under the force of the laws controlled by Zhi Xuan.

The pallor on Xu Yunchuan’s face slowly faded, replaced by a faint but certain glow of life. His chest, which had barely been moving, began to rise and fall with a stronger respiratory rhythm. His heartbeat, which had been like a faint knocking behind the door of death, now thundered again like a distant war drum.

The three disciples fell to the floor, including Mu Chen, who had just been released from the spatial lock. They stared at Zhi Xuan, trembling.

"Impossible..." whispered the female disciple, her tears now flowing not from grief, but from overwhelming shock. "Master... Master is starting to breathe normally again!"

Zhi Xuan withdrew his hand, letting Xiao Die land back on his shoulder calmly. His face remained as cold as marble, as if bringing someone back from the brink of death were a trivial task like sweeping dust.

"I have merely patched a hole in a broken jar," Zhi Xuan said, his voice flat yet resonating deep within their souls. "He is not fully alive nor dead; it depends on his own will to challenge death."

"Senior Zhang... oh, Senior Zhang!" Old Man Lu knelt, his head hitting the stone floor in a bow of profound gratitude. "You are truly a God descended upon our shack! The Pavilion of the Heavenly Path... we will never forget this kindness!"

Zhi Xuan did not respond to the worship. He turned toward Mu Chen, who was still staring at him with a blank gaze. "Mu Chen, follow me outside to tell me about the Black Bamboo Sect and the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses."

Mu Chen stood up with legs that still felt shaky, as if his entire world had been turned upside down in a single breath. He stared at Zhi Xuan’s back as the man stepped out of the stuffy hall, his shadow stretching across the stone floor, giving the impression of a ruler walking upon the ruins of history.

Once they reached the courtyard directly facing the arid mountain valley, Zhi Xuan stopped. He looked into the distance where, among the lower hills, a thin black mist could be seen enveloping an area lush with strange bamboo plants.

Mu Chen swallowed hard. He stood one step behind Zhi Xuan, not daring to look directly at the back of the man who had just challenged the laws of death. "The Black Bamboo Sect... they are quite a powerful sect here. Their leader, Du Tianzong, has reached the peak of late-stage Soul Transformation."

Mu Chen paused, his eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "They want the Earth Vein beneath our pavilion to grow Sky Dragon Bamboo. As for the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses, they are a strong sect allied with many smaller sects beneath them. They want to seize our Spiritual Spring for their own use."

"What about the wealth of those sects themselves?" Zhi Xuan asked coldly. "What kind of treasures and resources do they possess?"

Mu Chen was stunned for a moment by the question. In the world of martial arts, people usually asked about the number of troops or the lethality of the enemy's techniques, yet the man before him was asking about wealth and resources as if he were planning and calculating loot.

"Senior Zhang," Mu Chen replied in a low voice. "Regarding that, I do not have much information. However, I can take Senior to a place that provides information on both sects. If you are willing, I will lead you to where such information is usually found."

Mu Chen stepped forward with a much more respectful attitude, leading the way down the stone stairs slick with moss. They did not head toward the large city Zhi Xuan had passed through earlier, but followed a path along a cliffside hidden by rows of withered pine trees. There stood a small wooden building that looked like a secluded teahouse.

"This is an information exchange for rogue practitioners on this floating land," Mu Chen whispered as he opened the bamboo curtain covering the entrance. "Here, as long as you have spiritual stones or valuables, any sect's secrets can be bought."

Zhi Xuan stepped inside; the smell of cheap incense and burning wood greeted him. Inside, there were only a few practitioners with sharp yet guarded auras, sitting in dark corners. Behind a long table, an old man with eyes covered by a black cloth—a blind practitioner relying on divine sense—was calmly sipping tea.

"Mu Chen of the Heavenly Path," the blind old man’s voice was raspy; he did not turn, but his head tilted slightly toward them. "You brought someone. Who is this wanderer?"

Mu Chen bowed deeply. "Blind Senior, this is Senior Zhang Shui. We need in-depth information regarding the resources and treasure vaults of the Black Bamboo Sect and the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses."

The blind man set down his teacup, a thin, meaningful smile appearing on his dry lips. "Treasures? Usually, people come here asking how to survive Du Tianzong’s attacks, but this guest asks about the contents of his coffers. Interesting."

The blind old man stroked the rough wooden tabletop, his long, thin fingers moving like a spider dancing on a web. "The Black Bamboo Sect has Sky Dragon Bamboo plantations, said to be materials for forging swords. Their resources are mostly Heavenly Jade, which comes from their mining operations."

He paused, inhaling the rising scent of incense. "As for the Valley of a Thousand Lotuses... they are wealthier in terms of pills and higher-tier Heavenly Jade, as their elder is in the Weaver Transformation realm. Do you wish to rob them, Young Man?"

Zhi Xuan did not answer immediately. He walked toward the table and placed several high-grade spiritual stones upon it. "I do not rob," Zhi Xuan said flatly. "Just tell me more about both sects. What is the reason they are pressuring the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path?"

The blind old man felt the high-grade spiritual stones Zhi Xuan had placed down. As his fingertips touched the cold surface rich with pure essence, his smile widened, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. He quickly swept the stones into his wide sleeves with a lightning-fast motion.

"Such pure spiritual stones... you are no ordinary wanderer, Zhang Shui," the blind old man murmured, his voice now turning into a whisper laden with secrets.

"The reason they are pressuring the Heavenly Path isn't just about land or springs," he continued, his fingers tapping the table in a rhythmic pattern. "Two thousand years ago, the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path was the repository for one of the fragments of the Heavenly Sutra. Although the sect is now in ruins, legends say the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path has a direct link to the Great Emperor Zhetian."

Mu Chen gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "The Heavenly Sutra? Great Emperor Zhetian? Master never told us about that!"

The blind old man chuckled, his laugh sounding like the rustle of dry paper. "Your master, Xu Yunchuan, is a wise man. He knew that knowledge is poison for those who lack the strength to guard it. He chose to let the sect die slowly rather than trigger a massive slaughter over the news of that fragment."