Heavenly Wheel Ascension

Zhi Xuan stepped down from the altar, floating lightly through the air. Below, he looked upon the newly adorned Heavenly Path Pavilion. Golden-yellow soul lanterns illuminated the stone pathways, while thousands of relocated disciples were busy preparing a grand banquet in the main courtyard.

He waved his hand and opened his palm; from the collar of his robe, two tiny figures shot out and landed on his open hand. Zhi Xuan gazed at the two creatures, letting the low hum from Xiao Die break the silence following his breakthrough.

"Senior, are you certain this celebration will not be too dangerous?" Xiao Die asked, her voice delicate with a soft buzz. "The Bai Ancient Clan still rules the Cang Hai Plains. News of this must have reached their ears the moment they heard of a Divine Transformation expert in a remote land like this."

Zhi Xuan stared at the horizon, where the orange of dawn was being replaced by the bluish-purple veil of night. The corners of his lips quirked upward into a curve that resembled a sword slash more than a smile.

"Dangerous?" Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice clear as it swept through the mountain breeze. "Xiao Die, under this vast sky, there is no place truly safe for those who grasp destiny in their own hands. They must have guessed long ago that I was still here after the events of the Secret Realm."

Xiao Die buzzed softly, and then the little moth and Ao Sheng nested on Zhi Xuan's shoulder. "Hmph, the Ancient Clans are always a nuisance," Xiao Die grumbled. "Only Senior Sister Zhu Qinglan and Senior Sister Ye Xishui are not a bother."

"The Zhu Ancient Clan and the Heavenly Leaf Holy Pavilion are different," Zhi Xuan replied flatly. He began to descend the stone stairs carved directly from the mountain's spine. "Tonight, there will be many sycophants looking to build ties with the Heavenly Path Pavilion after the news of Senior Jian's awakening."

Zhi Xuan’s calm footsteps resonated with the heartbeat of the mountain itself. In the distance, he saw Jian Dao, who was now clad in the ceremonial robes of a Sword God—grey silk embroidered with silver thread, radiating an aura of sharpness capable of slicing through mortal vision.

"Daoist Zhang," Jian Dao called, his voice heavy and authoritative. He stood before the Grand Hall, gazing toward the massive marble gate in the distance. "Envoys from the smaller sects around the Cang Hai Plains have begun to arrive. They bring tribute and vows of loyalty, yet their eyes constantly search for the figure who leveled the Thousand Lotus Valley."

"Let them search," Zhi Xuan replied as he landed beside Jian Dao. "Tonight is your stage, Senior. Let the world know that the Heavenly Path Pavilion no longer requires anyone's mercy."

"I have lingered in this world for far too long," Jian Dao sighed, briefly touching the law-nails still embedded within his chest. "At the very least, if the Bai Ancient Clan dares to interfere in business that is not theirs, I am not a figure easily oppressed."

Zhi Xuan nodded vaguely. He and Jian Dao walked slowly toward an open courtyard sheltered by several lush willow trees. It was a magnificent open-air hall where tables with silk cushions were neatly arranged under the starlit sky. The sounds of clinking cups and the happiness of disciples gradually adjusting to their new lives echoed through the air.

The atmosphere in the Open Hall was like a painting from the divine realm fallen to earth. The fragrance of celestial wine, fermented from the nectar of seven-colored flowers, mingled with the scent of sandalwood incense rising from bronze braziers in every corner. The two of them reached the main table, and Zhi Xuan dropped onto a soft silk cushion.

The sect envoys and guests immediately greeted Jian Dao and Xu Yunchuan first, who were positioned right next to Zhi Xuan. The envoys raised their cups and congratulated Jian Dao on his return after such a long disappearance, and his awakening from beneath the corruption of the Black Bamboo Sect.

"Master Jian, it is an honor to meet a legendary figure of the past," one envoy spoke. "To hear that your absence after the shattering of the heavens was due to the filth of the Black Bamboo Sect... the Will of Heaven truly repays karma poorly."

Jian Dao raised his cup with a stiff but majestic motion. He offered a thin smile filled with wisdom. "A bamboo shoot often cannot hold a blade for long. When that single bamboo breaks, even a whole forest of bamboo will not be able to restrain the sword again."

"Well said, Senior Jian! Truly enlightened words!" an Elder from the Hanging Cloud Sect exclaimed, enthusiastically draining his wine. "The Thousand Lotus Valley and the Black Bamboo Sect have long been thorns in our sides. Tonight, we drink to the freedom of this land!"

"But, Senior Jian..." an envoy from a large merchant faction whispered curiously, his eyes darting toward Zhi Xuan, who sat quietly and expressionless beside Jian Dao. "May we know who this Dao Companion beside you is?"

Jian Dao glanced at Zhi Xuan for a moment, then looked back at his guests. "He is our Pavilion's Shadow Elder. The entire awakening of the Heavenly Path Pavilion is inseparable from his generosity and his lack of hesitation in binding his karma with us."

"A Shadow Elder?" the envoy murmured, his voice trembling between admiration and dread. He immediately bowed deeply toward Zhi Xuan. "Greetings, Senior. Please forgive these mortal eyes for failing to recognize the high mountain before them."

Zhi Xuan smiled thinly and raised his cup. "Greetings, Daoist. Enjoy the night; there is nothing better than celebrating the pavilion's rise with a jar of wine."

"Ah... it seems I have arrived at the perfect time," a melodious yet commanding female voice called out from the hall entrance.

All eyes turned toward the source. There, a woman in a purple velvet robe stepped inside with an elegance that could stop the breath of any man in the room. Behind her, two elders with the dense aura of Divine Transformation followed like shadows, along with a genius youth who surveyed the surroundings warily.

The charm aura she emitted began to creep toward every envoy, leaving them mesmerized and pouring out praises as Shen Ruolan walked gracefully.

"Aiyoo... am I dreaming? Is a Moon Fairy descending to earth?" whispered an elder of a small sect, his cup tilting until wine spilled unnoticed.

"This scent... it is the fragrance of the Purple Lotus from the territory of the Shen Ancient Clan! Who is this woman? Her aura truly makes my Divine Wheel tremble!" another practitioner exclaimed, face flushed with enchantment.

Shen Ruolan continued her advance, her smile thin yet lethal. She stopped right in the center of the hall, causing the hubbub of the envoys to fade into a reverent silence.

"The Shen Ancient Clan sends warm greetings upon the rise of the Heavenly Path Pavilion," Shen Ruolan said, her voice as clear as a silver zither. "I, Shen Ruolan, have come to bring congratulations to Senior Jian Dao and... of course, the esteemed Shadow Elder."

Unlawfully taken from NovelFire, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Thud! An envoy fell from his cushion in shock. "Holy Maiden Shen?! One of the Nine Holy Maidens of the Ancient Clan?! How could a figure as high as the clouds come to this remote land?"

"Greetings to Holy Maiden Shen! May fortune follow your steps!" the envoys cried out in unison as they prostrated, the atmosphere of the hall suddenly becoming more tense and grand.

Jian Dao stood, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the two elders behind Shen Ruolan. "A Holy Maiden of the Shen Clan... this is an unexpected surprise. Please, be seated. Our humble Pavilion is honored to be visited by a pearl of the Shen Clan."

"Humble, Senior Jian?" Shen Ruolan chuckled, her purple eyes flickering sharply toward Zhi Xuan, who remained casually seated. "As it happens, I have a bit of an acquaintance with an old friend."

Zhi Xuan looked up briefly, his sapphire-blue pupils flashing within the charm for a moment as Shen Ruolan gazed at him. Zhi Xuan surged his spiritual energy, creating a subtle spiritual wave. Shen Ruolan smiled thinly and lowered her body in a nod that nearly made the envoys' knees buckle.

"The Bai Ancient Clan has arrived!" a disciple shouted, stepping aside to reveal a young man and woman walking calmly.

"Holy Son Bai, Bai Wuchen, and his sister came in person?" gasped one envoy, shaken out of Shen Ruolan's charm. "I am seeing the blood of Emperors before me!"

"Salutations to Holy Son Bai Wuchen and Holy Fairy Bai Lingxue! May eternal light accompany the Bai Ancient Clan!" the voices of the envoys exploded in a trembling chorus, far more boisterous and fearful than when they welcomed Shen Ruolan.

Bai Wuchen walked with his hands behind his back. Beside him, Bai Lingxue—a girl with a face cold as a carving of eternal ice—merely stared flatly at her surroundings, as if the entire hall were nothing more than dust beneath her boots.

"Rise," Bai Wuchen said flatly, his voice carrying an absolute authority that momentarily stopped the air in the hall from flowing.

He then looked at Jian Dao, then turned to Shen Ruolan, showing a hint of surprise. "Holy Maiden Shen, you came to the Cang Hai Plains without a word to the Bai Ancient Clan. Is there an urgent matter?"

Shen Ruolan covered her lips with one finger, her eyes sparkling. "Holy Son Bai, the Shen Ancient Clan intends no rudeness. I was merely curious about an old friend while passing through on my own errands. Rest assured, Brother Jiuxiao will guarantee I cause no trouble."

"An old friend?" Bai Wuchen frowned, then his eyes widened slightly as he saw the brown-robed figure near Jian Dao. "Oh, so Brother Gu is here. No wonder the envoys of the Han Ancient Clan have been coming to the Cang Hai Plains as they please."

Bai Wuchen stepped forward, each footfall on the marble floor emitting a glow of white light that neutralized Shen Ruolan’s purple charm aura. He stopped a few paces before the main table, looking at Zhi Xuan with an unreadable expression—a mixture of curiosity and deep wariness.

"Gu Fengyan..." Bai Wuchen’s voice echoed, calm but containing the law-pressure of a Divine Transformation expert. "After witnessing you make that twenty-year promise with Han Shanshan, I understand why he holds such a grudge against you now."

Zhi Xuan smiled thinly, rising briefly from his silk cushion to face Bai Wuchen. "This conversation would be better suited for a more beautiful setting, would it not?"

"Hahaha, fine, fine!" Bai Wuchen stepped forward and patted Zhi Xuan’s shoulder. "Then, you must host me well tonight, after I allowed you into the Secret Realm back then."

Zhi Xuan accepted the pat with unshakable calm. He gave a slight nod to Jian Dao, who returned it with the Sword God’s steady gaze. Zhi Xuan led Bai Wuchen toward the peak of a hill. Behind him, he could feel Bai Lingxue and Shen Ruolan following.

However, something tugged at his heart. That youth—the one he had seen briefly, who looked shocked upon hearing the name Gu Fengyan—looked somewhat familiar. Zhi Xuan walked with steps that seemed to merge with the night wind, leading the small group of Ancient Clan elites toward the Pine Peak of Silence. Below, the festive noise of the Pavilion banquet faded into the song of crickets and the rustle of leaves.

Bai Wuchen’s steady gait, Bai Lingxue’s cold aura freezing the surrounding dew, and Shen Ruolan’s purple lotus fragrance misleading the senses—all created an atmospheric pressure capable of crushing the mental state of ordinary practitioners. Yet, Zhi Xuan walked with straight shoulders, as if hosting old friends in his own backyard.

"This place is quiet enough," Bai Wuchen said, stopping at the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea of clouds. The moonlight reflected off his white robe embroidered with silver dragons, the symbol of the Bai Ancient Clan’s majesty. "So, Brother Gu, or should I call you Zhi Xuan? Your real name has been mentioned quite often at the banquet tables of the Ancient Clans lately."

Zhi Xuan stopped beside an ancient pine tree whose trunk twisted like a petrified dragon. He turned slowly, meeting Bai Wuchen’s gaze with clear sapphire pupils. "A name is merely a designation for the mortal vessel, Holy Son Bai. But if you are more comfortable calling me Zhi Xuan, I do not mind."

"You are truly bold," Bai Lingxue interjected, her voice cold as cracking ice. She stared at Zhi Xuan with a judgmental gaze. "You think because you have the Zhu and Hua Ancient Clans behind you, you can act freely in the territory of the Bai Ancient Clan?"

"Little sister," Bai Wuchen cautioned. "Brother Gu did what he did because he also has a grudge against the rats associated with the Han Ancient Clan. You understand yourself that the Bai and Han clans have always been tense."

Zhi Xuan remained unmoved, his eyes on the expanse of clouds moving slowly under the moonlight. "Holy Fairy Bai, I did not come here to challenge your clan's authority. The Heavenly Path Pavilion is simply a place for those who wish to find a way home without bowing to oppression. And of course, a path I leave open to becoming allies should the Han Ancient Clan pressure me."

The conversation continued, but behind the four grand figures, the youth who had kept his head bowed finally looked up. His eyes burned slightly, but he immediately suppressed the surge of emotion. He looked at that brown-robed back—the same back he remembered. Only the robe was different.

"If one day you feel your hatred is greater than your pain, seek me out." That sentence echoed continuously, spinning in his mind like a curse and a soul-searing revelation. Mo Chen clenched his fists beneath his sleeves, his nails digging deep into his palms until the stinging pain became the only anchor keeping him from faltering before the aura of these celestial rulers.

Gu Fengyan. That name, which he had kept behind the tightest mental seals for a hundred years, was now being spoken so lightly by Holy Sons and Maidens. Mo Chen stared at the steady back in the brown robe. Although the color had changed, and the aura of death that once overflowed had now condensed into an unfathomable calm, Mo Chen could never be mistaken.

The vibration of his Dao Heart responded. The golden scroll now merged with his bone marrow pulsed, emitting the same warmth as that night of slaughter. Master... is it truly you? Mo Chen’s heart screamed, but his lips remained tightly sealed.

His mind flashed back to a sunset rotted by the stench of metallic blood. He saw his younger self standing over a pool of his father’s blood, gazing up at a giant figure whose head pierced the clouds of massacre. He remembered how that blood-stained hand had gently stroked his head, offering hope in the midst of despair.

In his sleep over the decades, Mo Chen had been haunted by one question. Why? Why would a devil who could level his sect with a single stomp spare the life of an orphan he should have destroyed to cut the roots of vengeance?

Mother said you were the storm that tore down our home, Mo Chen thought, his eyes tearing up but remaining sharp. But it was that storm that cleansed the poisoned land. You killed a cruel father; you walked like a Devil among white swans. For a hundred years, I crawled from the mud of ruin, joining the Shen Ancient Clan just to reach a level where I could stand close enough to see your shadow again.

Mo Chen remembered every step of his cultivation. Every time he felt the pain of his meridians being torn by spiritual energy, he would recall that raspy voice: "Make sure you do not fall before meeting me again." Those words were medicine, a whip, and a religion for Mo Chen.

He saw Zhi Xuan talking to Bai Wuchen, a figure considered the pinnacle of the world. But in Mo Chen's eyes, only the brown-robed figure was real. To him, Bai Wuchen was merely moonlight borrowing its glow, while Zhi Xuan was pure darkness containing the core of all light.

"My hatred..." Mo Chen took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his inner turmoil so it wouldn't be detected by the Divine Transformation experts around him. "Master, you were wrong. My hatred for you died long ago under that sunset rain. All that remains is pain... the pain of realizing how lonely the path of cultivation is."

Mo Chen took one step forward, maintaining a respectful distance behind the group. His eyes were fixed on the ground where Zhi Xuan trod. He felt the urge to prostrate, to return the golden scroll, and to say that he had not fallen. He wanted to prove that the shivering little boy in the Mo Family courtyard had now become a blade sharp enough to serve.