Heavenly Wheel Ascension

"Taking what belongs to nature, is it?" Zhi Xuan let a smile play across his lips, though it did not reach his eyes. "So, has Senior Duan ever truly taken what belongs to nature from these two sects?"

Duan Niu scratched his large ear and spat toward the abyss in a manner that was entirely unbefitting of an expert. "Ever? Daoist Zhang, you underestimate me. I’ve infiltrated the medicine granary of the Lotus Valley three times already. Though, the last time, I nearly lost half my backside to a bite from their blind spiritual beast."

The fat man then cleared his throat, his face shifting into a mock-serious expression. "However, the Black Bamboo is different. The forest itself is a living sword formation. Every wrong step will trigger thousands of bamboo blades to pierce your meridian points."

Zhi Xuan shifted his gaze back toward the Thousand-Blade Bamboo Forest. "A living sword formation... that means there is a formation heart controlling all the bamboo there. Is there a Weaver Transformation expert present?"

"A Weaver?" Duan Niu snorted, his voice now as heavy as shifting stone. "Du Tianzong is indeed strong, but he is merely a crude practitioner. However, the grand advisor behind him—an old fossil named Meng Zhao—is an early-stage Weaver Transformation expert. He is the one who wove the forest's formation into a suffocating net of death."

Zhi Xuan remained silent for a moment, letting the mountain wind play with his loose hair. "A Weaver... I see."

"And what about Senior Duan himself?" Zhi Xuan asked, turning sharply toward him. "For someone with a foundation like yours, isn't it a bit excessive to masquerade as a lecherous cultivator?"

Duan Niu froze for a second. The foolish grin that usually adorned his round face faded, replaced by an awkward silence. He narrowed one eye at Zhi Xuan, as if weighing whether to keep his mask on or discard it before the man he had just met.

"Excessive?" Duan Niu finally spoke, his tone now low and raspy, far from the playful impression he had shown before. "Daoist Zhang, in a world where the spies of great clans swarm like flies, being a hated and underestimated figure is the sturdiest shield. Who would suspect a lewd pig whose only job is peeping at springs? The enemy's ignorance is the safety of the secrets I carry."

He exhaled, his large belly rising and falling slowly. "My cultivation... is only at the middle stage of Weaver Transformation. But know this, I do not stand on this mountain merely for entertainment. There is something down there that must not fall into the hands of Meng Zhao or the rulers Above."

Zhi Xuan nodded vaguely, acknowledging the answer. He knew that any practitioner capable of surviving as a rogue without the support of a great clan must possess thousands of layers of disguise. "If that is the case, let Advisor Meng Zhao be the first thread we sever."

"Ow, ow! You truly are impatient!" Duan Niu resumed his silly face, slapping his belly loudly. "Fine! If you really want to pluck some bamboo, I’ll be the guide. But remember, if we get caught, I’m running first and leaving you to become a bamboo pincushion!"

Zhi Xuan did not respond to the joke with words. He simply moved his palm, and a moment later, a glowing thread appeared between his fingers, shimmering coldly under the rising moonlight. "If you run, make sure you run faster than the pull of this thread, Senior Duan."

Duan Niu frowned, staring at the thread with mock horror, but inwardly he shuddered. Without wasting any more time, the two figures darted down from the cliff of the Pavilion of the Heavenly Path. As they neared the border of the Thousand-Blade Bamboo Forest, the air changed abruptly. Thousands of pitch-black bamboo stalks grew densely, their sharp leaves rubbing against each other and producing the faint clinking sound of swords.

"Stop," Duan Niu whispered, raising his short hand. "Look at the ground in front of you. That isn't just moss."

Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes. Beneath his feet were intricate webs of dark green essence woven over the ground, merging with the bamboo roots. "A Weaver’s Sensory Net. If even an ant steps on it, Meng Zhao will know the direction of the vibration."

"Exactly!" Duan Niu smirked. He reached into a grimy pouch at his waist and pulled out a small jade bottle. "But this fat pig has the antidote. Rub a little on the soles of your feet, and you’ll become a ghost to that net."

Zhi Xuan accepted the bottle but merely held it without opening it. "No need. I have a way that is more... integrated."

Zhi Xuan’s form faded into a shadow that seemed to move through itself, creeping forward and reappearing far ahead. Duan Niu gaped, watching Zhi Xuan’s figure dissolve like smoke swallowed by the night. He rubbed his squinty eyes, ensuring his vision wasn't failing him.

"Ow, ow! What kind of technique is that?" Duan Niu muttered. "He treats this formation like he’s walking in his own backyard!"

Not wanting to be left behind, he quickly smeared the oil from the jade bottle onto his wide soles. His stout body suddenly became as light as a feather, leaping nimbly between the bamboo stalks to follow Zhi Xuan’s faint trail.

The further they ventured, the more the sword aura radiating from the black bamboo stung their skin. The bamboo stalks did not grow randomly; they were arranged in shifting rows. Whenever the wind blew, the bamboo leaves—sharp as daggers—flew in spinning circles.

Zhi Xuan moved with a terrifying grace, his body seemingly woven from the darkness that glided through the gaps of the sword aura. Every time a bamboo leaf shot toward him, his frame merely vibrated faintly, letting the attack pass through his shadow without snagging a single thread.

Behind him, Duan Niu hopped nimbly like a bouncing ball of meat between the high branches, trying desperately not to touch a vibrating stalk.

"Dammit!" Duan Niu cursed in a hushed tone. "The bamboos are starting to wake up. Meng Zhao must be at the formation heart!"

Zhi Xuan stopped right beneath a giant bamboo with a deep purple-black stalk, darker than the rest. He reached out his hand, touching the surface. Instantly, a low vibration rippled into his palm.

"This is no ordinary bamboo," Zhi Xuan whispered, his eyes flashing coldly. "This is a conduit for the souls of the practitioners they have slaughtered. They use trapped souls to power this formation."

Duan Niu landed beside him, his breathing slightly heavy but his gaze fixed on the center of the forest. "You’re right, Daoist Zhang. That’s why this sect is called Black Bamboo. The black color comes from the blood and resentment that has congealed over hundreds of years. And there, in the center of the darkness, is the pavilion where Meng Zhao meditates."

In the distance, a building made of interwoven old bamboo stood firm. Around it, the air swirled into a vortex of dense essence, encircled by intersecting webs of essence threads.

"Advisor Meng," Zhi Xuan murmured. He released a sliver of his presence, as subtle as a needle piercing through silk. "Let him know that death has come knocking at his door."

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Suddenly, the entire bamboo forest went silent. The noisy rustling of leaves stopped completely; the ensuing silence was haunting. Suddenly, from the direction of the bamboo pavilion, a dry, sharp laugh rang out.

"A little rat and a fat pig dare to set foot in my private garden? Duan Niu, I warned you not to return, or I would sew your mouth shut with bamboo roots!"

An old man with a green robe that hung like moss emerged from the building. His hair was thin, and in his hand, he held a long staff made of ancient bamboo. The old man, Meng Zhao, stepped down from the pavilion with slow movements, yet every step made the ground vibrate. His small, pale green eyes fixed a sharp gaze on the darkness where Zhi Xuan and Duan Niu stood.

Duan Niu immediately resumed his foolish expression, though his hands were ready beneath his robes. "Ow, ow! Advisor Meng, don't be so harsh on this poor pig. I’m just bringing my friend here to see the beautiful scenery of your forest. Isn't the moon lovely tonight for plucking a stalk or two of your bamboo?"

"Scenery?" Meng Zhao snorted, striking his bamboo staff against the ground. Tak! Instantly, the rows of bamboo around them shifted at high speed, locking the exits. "You think you’ll escape this time? Don't count on it!"

Meng Zhao spun his staff, and immediately, the sharp bamboos surrounding him bowed and pointed directly at the two figures in the darkness.

Zhi Xuan stepped out from the shadow of the giant bamboo, letting the pale moonlight illuminate his simple brown robes. He showed no fear, even as thousands of bamboo tips, sharp as spearheads, were only a few paces from his throat.

"You talk too much for someone with one foot already in the grave," Zhi Xuan said, his voice calm yet carrying an authority that made the sword aura around him seem to freeze.

Meng Zhao narrowed his eyes, the wrinkles on his face—resembling old tree bark—deepening. "You... are that brown-robed figure rumored to be the Shadow Elder of that trash shack?"

"Zhang Shui... so you are the rat who crushed our core disciples at the teahouse this afternoon?" Meng Zhao raised his bamboo staff high. "The law in this forest is simple. A life for a life. And your soul will become delicious nutrition for me!"

Meng Zhao struck his staff down. Instantly, the black bamboo stalks surrounding Zhi Xuan shot forward like thousands of arrows released simultaneously. The air in the forest shattered with the sharp whistling of bamboo blades tearing through space.

Duan Niu shouted in surprise, his stout body spinning like a top, creating a vortex of wind that parried the approaching blades. "Ow! So fierce! Daoist Zhang, do something before I turn into pig soup!"

"Only an early-stage Weaver Transformation," Zhi Xuan said coldly. He raised his finger, and the sword intent that had merged with his body surged forth. "Unworthy of barking in my presence."

The bamboo blades that were hurtling at lethal speeds suddenly stopped in mid-air, as if time had frozen by an emperor's decree. The next second, a subtle yet deafening clinking sound echoed throughout the forest. A perfect flash of blood-red light mixed with crackling lightning split every bamboo stalk into dust before they could even touch the hem of Zhi Xuan’s robe.

Meng Zhao’s eyes widened, his steps faltering until the bamboo staff in his hand shook violently. "Man-Sword Unity?! No... this is more than mere unity! You... you are suppressing the natural laws around you!"

Zhi Xuan gave Meng Zhao no chance to recover from his shock. He stepped forward, his footsteps no longer silent but carrying a boom of energy that cracked the earth beneath him.

"You call this a death net?" Zhi Xuan raised his right hand, his fingers moving as if plucking invisible zither strings. "To me, these are merely crude threads woven by a trembling hand."

"Arrogant!" Meng Zhao hissed. He faded and reappeared above the bamboo forest. "Even if you are a middle-stage Weaver Transformation... here, I am the law!"

Behind Meng Zhao’s aged back, a False Domain unfolded, covering the entire bamboo area and cutting off all exits. The domain manifested six forms of Meng Zhao himself, each capable of expanding the domain until it resembled a majestic True Domain.

"Prison of the Black Sky Ink!" Meng Zhao hissed. He clapped his hands, and immediately the color of the sky above the forest turned as white as a canvas while the forest turned as black as ink. "I want to see how you break this! Sky Ink Storm-Splitter!"

The six Meng Zhaos raised their fingers together. Suddenly, from the sky above, a black-and-white slash emerged that made the very soul tremble. Below, Duan Niu shrieked as the bamboo around him poked at his large robes, forcing him to form a half-hearted protection around himself and Zhi Xuan.

Zhi Xuan stood with both hands behind his back, letting his brown robes blow in the black-and-white energy storm raging around him. His eyes, deep as the primordial ocean, stared straight at the canvas sky Meng Zhao had created. In his eyes, this domain was nothing more than a painting full of legal flaws.

"Just because you can color the sky doesn't mean you are the master of the firmament," Zhi Xuan’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the deafening roar of the wind. "A False Domain... how amusing."

He waved a hand gently, dismissing the protection Duan Niu had tried to build. "Senior Duan, save your energy. Facing a cheap painting like this doesn't require thick walls."

"E-eh? Daoist Zhang! That’s the Sky Ink Slash! If it hits you, your soul will be erased like writing on water!" Duan Niu shouted while crawling backward, yet he couldn't hide the glint of anticipation in his eyes.

The black-and-white slash descended like a bolt of lightning splitting the world, carrying the weight of the thousands of souls trapped in the bamboo forest. The pressure was so great that the ground beneath Zhi Xuan’s feet sank by a full fathom. However, right before the slash could touch his crown, Zhi Xuan raised his hand, and the Gods Slaughter Crescent appeared for a brief moment.

"Gods Reaper," Zhi Xuan said softly, swinging the scythe like dredging stones in water. "Gods Slaughter."

A wave of dense, dark-red energy shot from the blade of the Gods Slaughter Crescent, splitting the sky that was previously dominated by Meng Zhao’s black-and-white ink. As the giant scythe swung, it was as if a giant hand ripped the canvas of the sky, revealing the true darkness of the night behind the cracked False Domain.

BOOM!

The collision between the ink slash and the slaughter scythe created a deafening explosion of law. However, there was no balance in this clash. Meng Zhao’s majestic slash shattered into pieces like glass hit by a sledgehammer. The six shadows of Meng Zhao in the sky shook violently before five of them exploded into ruined mist, leaving the advisor’s true body to be hurled backward with blood spraying from his mouth.

"W-what treasure is that?!" Meng Zhao roared, his pale eyes now filled with pure horror. "That killing intent... it is a Demon! Who are you really?!"

Zhi Xuan did not answer. He stepped through the air, each footstep creating a blood-red ripple that extinguished Meng Zhao’s essence webs. The Gods Slaughter Crescent in his hand seemed to breathe, emitting a low hum that hungered for the life essence of a Weaver.

"You were too busy painting the sky to remember that the ground you stand on belongs to death," Zhi Xuan said. He swung his scythe once more, this time in a slow circular motion that drew in all the bamboo energy around him.

A giant energy scythe formed in the sky, hurtling forward with a speed that surpassed logic. Meng Zhao tried to raise his ancient bamboo staff to parry. However, the thousand-year-old staff snapped instantly into two pieces upon contact with Zhi Xuan’s red energy.

"NOOO!"

The slash passed through Meng Zhao’s body, yet no wound was visible. Instead of blood, what came out of Meng Zhao’s body was his Divine Spirit, forcibly ejected. The aged body fell to its knees on the ruins of the bamboo pavilion, while the Divine Spirit prepared to flee.

"Want to leave?" Zhi Xuan hissed coldly, preparing to raise his scythe. "You won't escape."

SHHHHHT!

From behind him, a silent gust appeared as Meng Zhao’s Divine Spirit disintegrated in the air, as if constricted by invisible fine threads before being detonated in silence. Zhi Xuan froze for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sky. He turned around, seeing Duan Niu staring at the air with a glint in his eye, one hand raised.

"Senior Duan, you were actually... quite helpful," Zhi Xuan said with a thin smile, a hint of annoyance suppressed.

Duan Niu gasped, quickly coming to his senses and chuckling low in nervousness. "Eh... Daoist Zhang, I just finished it quickly!"

"But look," Duan Niu continued, jumping in front of Zhi Xuan and trying to reach for the Gods Slaughter Crescent.

Zhi Xuan coldly withdrew the scythe, placing it back into his body and staring icily. Duan Niu pulled his hand back in momentary confusion before chuckling again.

"Oho! Daoist Zhang, I always knew you smelled of treasure," Duan Niu whispered, looking around at the black bamboo. "But I didn't expect to meet someone challenging the Han Ancient Clan here, hiding on this tiny floating continent."

Zhi Xuan wasn't surprised to hear his true identity uttered from the fat pig's mouth. From the start, he knew that anyone capable of catching Xiao Die and Ao Sheng with one hand must have senses capable of piercing even the densest mist of secrets.

"The world is indeed vast, but for those with sharp eyes, blood trails will always be visible even if washed by rain," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice as cold as frozen morning dew. "So, is Senior Duan one of the Ancient Clan's subordinates?"