Heavenly Wheel Ascension

"The height or depth of the heavens is not always the measure by which they gaze upon the earth," Jian Dao interjected with a gravity that turned the surrounding air razor-sharp. "He is Daoist Zhang... or Gu Fengyan to those who know him through stains of blood. He possesses a will strong enough to tear the sky of the lower realm right before the eyes of the Ancient Clans."

Just as those words left his lips, a colossal shadow engulfed the entire courtyard of the Heavenly Path Pavilion. A heavy, rhythmic thunder—like a mountain being dragged across a marble surface—vibrated in the ears of the thousands of practitioners gathered there. They all looked up simultaneously, and the sight before them caused their hearts to skip a beat.

A gargantuan silhouette grew larger, blotting out the dawn light that had just begun to touch the peaks of the Heavenly Path Pavilion. The air shrieked as a massive object, falling with the velocity of a collapsing mountain, split the clouds and hurtled toward the old outer gate of the pavilion. BUMMMMM!

The earth shuddered violently, sending fissures racing to the feet of the prostrating disciples. Dust billowed high, masking the view for a moment before thinning to reveal a thirty-yard-tall marble gate standing firmly before them. Atop the crest of this cracked yet magnificent gate, Zhi Xuan stood with unnerving calm.

"Now, both sects are extinct. Only the Heavenly Path Pavilion remains," Zhi Xuan spoke coldly to the masses below, hovering in the air. From his fingers, glowing characters formed and flew to embed themselves into the gate. "The Heavenly Path Pavilion shall be eternal upon this land."

Zhi Xuan did not stop there. Knowing Duan Niu had likely emptied the treasures of the Black Bamboo Sect, he waved his hand, manifesting a storage bag containing the high-grade Heavenly Jade, Divine Herbs, and Heaven-tier artifacts he had set aside from the Thousand Lotus Valley for the Pavilion’s use.

The storage bag streaked down from the sky, cutting through the dust before landing with a soft thud directly in front of Jian Dao. Zhi Xuan blurred into a shadow and reappeared before Jian Dao, giving a faint nod and clasping his hands in a respectful greeting.

"Senior Jian Dao," Zhi Xuan’s voice was low, yet it reached the ears of every practitioner present. "The Thousand Lotus Valley has collapsed in the silence of dawn. Within this bag lies the foundation they stole from this land's destiny for centuries. Use it to rebuild every pillar that has grown brittle."

Jian Dao accepted the bag with hands that trembled slightly. He gazed deep into Zhi Xuan’s sapphire eyes, searching for a crack in his composure. "Daoist Zhang, you surrender such vast wealth without asking for even a plot of land in return? Even a sovereign from the Upper Realm would not be so generous."

"Land is merely a physical vessel, Senior. I have no need for a vessel that binds my steps," Zhi Xuan replied with a thin, mysterious smile. "I only require one thing; when the storm of the Han Ancient Clan truly descends upon this floating continent, the Heavenly Path Pavilion must be a shield that none can pierce."

Duan Niu, who had been staring agape at the giant gate, finally approached while stroking the marble. "Aiyoo! Daoist Zhang, you are truly mad! Carrying this gate through the clouds? I dare not imagine the faces of those sect elders as you uprooted their honor like this."

Zhi Xuan glanced at Duan Niu flatly. "They no longer have faces to be looked at, Senior Duan."

"So... they are truly gone?" Xu Yunchuan, supported by Mu Chen, stepped forward with a pale face filled with hope. "The Thousand Lotus Valley and the Black Bamboo Sect... the two mountains that oppressed us for centuries, vanished in a single night?"

"Gone like dew forced dry by the sun," Zhi Xuan stated before turning to the thousands of relocated disciples. "Listen well! From this second onward, there are no disciples of the Black Bamboo or the Thousand Lotus. If you breathe here, you are disciples of the Heavenly Path Pavilion. Betrayal will not be met with minor punishment, but with the erasure of your very soul."

"We swear! By Heaven and Earth, we shall be loyal to the Heavenly Path Pavilion!" the thousands roared in unison, their voices shaking the valley.

The news of the fall of the two major sects spread like wildfire. Powerful figures, from Weaver Transformation experts to rare Divine Transformation masters, could hardly believe the calamity that had struck overnight.

On a neighboring floating continent, the tremors of the event were felt by all. Rumors spoke of a figure who conjured six colors in the sky before the Thousand Lotus Valley vanished.

In a large city on that continent, a woman walked gracefully through the streets, her eyes radiating a purple glow behind a veil of overwhelming charm. She moved with two Divine Transformation experts trailing behind her, their faces pale with confusion regarding her current destination.

The woman stopped. Her velvet robe, adorned with translucent silk feathers, rustled softly against her slender frame. She tilted her head, glancing toward a crowd surrounding a drunken old man.

"Senior Sister Shen," came the voice of a youth who appeared to be a Soul Transformation expert, stopping between the two elders. "Why have you stopped?"

The woman, addressed as Shen, did not answer immediately. The corners of her lips curled into a meaningful smile as her slender fingers played with the ends of her glossy black hair. Her purple eyes flashed, staring intently at the drunkard who was raving about a "brown robe judging the heavens" in a corner of the street.

"Two great sects vanished in a single night, and you ask why I stop, Xiao Chen?" Shen’s voice was low, yet it possessed a vibration that could shake the Divine Wheel of anyone who heard it. "The wind blowing from the opposite continent carries a scent I know well—a scent I have recognized since I left the Secret Realm."

The youth, Mo Chen, was a true genius who had reached the Soul Transformation stage in just a hundred years. His curiosity had been fueled by the memory of a broad back in a black-and-white robe amidst the rain and the blood of his family's massacre a century ago.

"You mean... an old friend of yours is on the other continent?" Mo Chen asked cautiously, curious about who the Holy Daughter Shen was referring to. "I also heard of the sects' collapse; the person behind it is incredibly ruthless."

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Ruthless?" Shen let out a small laugh, a sound like clashing gems—clear but cold. "On this mortal path of cultivation, ruthlessness is merely a term for those who win in a way the losers cannot fathom. If he is truly the one I think he is, 'ruthless' is too mild a word."

She approached the drunkard. The crowd immediately parted, making way for the Holy Daughter as if her aura were an unwritten decree. The two Divine Transformation elders behind her released a sliver of pressure, turning the noisy city air heavy and silent.

"Old man," Shen called softly, her voice piercing the drunkard’s deepest consciousness. "Tell me, the brown robe you saw... did he carry a giant scythe that seemed ready to split the land?"

The old man looked up, his bloodshot eyes widening as they met Shen’s pupils. His body shook, and the wine in his hand spilled over his ragged clothes.

"Not just a scythe... Great Lady," the old man rasped. "He... he stood above the sky and made the Thousand Lotus Valley vanish in a night. I was in a tavern that night, watching the six-colored light above the sky."

"Six colors... is it?" Shen smiled thinly. She stood and turned away, walking off. Every practitioner who saw her or breathed in the scent she left behind seemed frozen in a powerful illusion of charm.

Shen walked with a gentle, graceful smile. Mo Chen stood dazed for a moment before following her, flanked by the two elders.

Who is he, really? Mo Chen wondered, staring at Shen’s receding back. As someone saved by Holy Daughter Shen since childhood, he rarely saw her show interest in the affairs of the lower continents.

The two elders exchanged glances. Elder Ku, whose white beard reached his chest, whispered via divine transmission: "The Law of Six Colors... if the news is true, that brown-robed figure is unique. There is no mistake; he is here."

"You mean... the boy with the twenty-year promise with the Han Ancient Clan?" the other elder replied, his face reflecting a deep memory. "The one who carries the Calamity Banner? He has the Zhu Ancient Clan behind him, but why is he here?"

Meanwhile, Shen reached the balcony of a tea pavilion overlooking the sea of clouds that separated their land from the Heavenly Path Pavilion's territory. The wind whipped her face, playing with her hair, but her eyes remained fixed on the darkening eastern horizon.

"Zhi Xuan..." Shen whispered, a name kept in the deepest corner of her consciousness. "You really can't stay still for a moment, can you? Ever since I saw you standing before the flying ships of the Nine Ancient Clans, the world was never going to be quiet again."

She remembered the Secret Realm, where that youth—with an annoying calmness and eyes that seemed to have seen a thousand deaths—walked among the Holy Sons and Daughters. Shen Ruolan, the sister of Shen Jiuxiao and the Holy Daughter of the Shen Ancient Clan, felt her charm aura intensifying.

"My enlightenment regarding the Crescent Moon Clan's legacy has become my Dao," Shen Ruolan murmured, gazing at the clouds. She raised her hand, and a flower appeared in her palm. "This charm... is the path that allows me to stand above the heavens."

She twirled the flower, letting its purple petals fall one by one into the abyss of the sea of clouds. Each falling petal carried a sliver of intent capable of leading mortal souls astray. Mo Chen and the two elders kept their distance, not daring to disturb the Holy Daughter whose aura was merging with the majesty of the sky.

"Twenty years is a short time for seekers of immortality, but for him, it is a stage to flip the chessboard of destiny," Shen Ruolan whispered. She turned to Elder Ku, her eyes flashing. "Elder, find a way for me to visit that place."

Elder Ku started, his brow furrowed. "Holy Daughter, that region is currently in the eye of a storm. The Han Ancient Clan is surely watching. If we appear there, it could be seen as an uninvited intrusion between Ancient Clans."

"I don't care about the Han Ancient Clan," Shen Ruolan said flatly. "To me, Han Shanshan is nothing more than a Holy Son who will collapse under his own inability to handle that man."

She turned to Mo Chen, her voice softening as she looked at the junior she had watched grow. "Mo Chen, did you find anything else in this city?"

Mo Chen bowed his head, hiding the spark of darkness that occasionally crossed his pupils. "Reporting to the Holy Daughter, I have news that may ease your heart regarding your request to head to the Heavenly Path Pavilion."

He paused, a rare thin smile touching his lips. "I overheard whispers from several practitioners in the city. The Heavenly Path Pavilion is planning a celebration for its new disciples and its formal re-establishment after centuries of oppression."

Shen Ruolan stopped her fingers. The last purple petal did not fall; it crumbled into light dust and was absorbed into her skin. Her smile widened into a radiant display of charm that caused the flowers around the tea pavilion to bloom instantly.

"A celebration?" Shen Ruolan repeated, her voice rising in a passionate melody. "A truly bold move. Inviting the world to witness a ruin rising beneath the nose of the Han Ancient Clan."

She turned fully toward Mo Chen. "You have done well. If they are holding a celebration, then as a gesture of goodwill in this territory of the Bai Ancient Clan, the Shen Ancient Clan will have no problem attending."

Elder Ku cleared his throat, looking worried. "Holy Daughter, if this is a disciple celebration, usually only outer elders or ordinary core disciples are sent. If you go yourself, it is no longer a simple greeting—it is a heavy political statement. The Bai Ancient Clan will surely—"

"Holy Son Bai will not mind me, Elder Ku. Besides, a Divine Transformation expert in this remote land will already draw the Bai Clan's attention," Shen Ruolan interrupted with an undeniable authority. "Tonight, I want to arrive there."

Mo Chen bowed deeper, but behind the hair covering his face, his eyes burned with resolve. For him, every step following Shen Ruolan was a step closer to the secret of the power that could annihilate a sect in a single night—the power he needed to avenge the blood of his past.

Across the horizon, the Heavenly Path Pavilion had transformed into a cauldron of activity. Lanterns woven from essence decorated every jagged cliff. The massive marble gate Zhi Xuan had brought stood proudly as the outer boundary, radiating a pressure that forced every wandering practitioner to bow their heads.

Zhi Xuan himself sat at the highest peak of the pavilion, cross-legged on an altar facing the valley. Before him, the hundreds of thousands of Heavenly Jades he had plundered had crumbled into dust, but their spiritual essence had not vanished. Instead, it formed a glowing storm that was continuously sucked into his body.

The Sky Samsara Wheel within him spun at a speed that pulled every sliver of essence from the jade. Every breath he took caused the air to vibrate, creating subtle spatial ripples.

"One more step..." Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice muffled by the roaring energy. "Though my Domain is still stuck in the middle stage, my cultivation shall be anchored at the peak."

Zhi Xuan moved his hands, feeling the energy within him overflowing. He could already sense what it meant to be at the peak of Weaver Transformation—the final stage before treading toward the gates of higher divinity. At this peak, understanding the essence of heaven and earth would become second nature.

"Rise!" The altar shook, and a pillar of pure light pierced the sky. The explosion of light from the peak struck the horizon, splitting the dark clouds above the Pavilion.

In the center of that pillar, Zhi Xuan appeared like the focal point of a contracting galaxy, absorbing every remaining drop of spiritual essence until the world around him felt hollow. The shockwave reached the foot of the mountain, causing the thousands of disciples to stop their work in awe.

They looked up, faces pale, sensing an aura so grand and pressing it felt like the highest existence beneath the Divine Transformation experts of the Ancient Clans. With the departure of the Sacred Passage patriarchs to the upper realm, the peak of Weaver Transformation was effectively the summit of power.

The energy pillar slowly shrank, condensing into a single point of light on Zhi Xuan’s forehead before vanishing. A strange silence fell over the peak. Zhi Xuan opened his eyes; there was no explosion of emotion, only a depth in his gaze that seemed capable of swallowing the moon's light.

"One step closer to Divine Transformation," Zhi Xuan murmured. He raised his hand, gazing at the disc that formed his domain. "To understand the Six Paths of Reincarnation, to know that the conviction of the heart can freeze Reincarnation... what is the final stage of this domain?"