Heavenly Wheel Ascension

"Mo Chen," Zhi Xuan called without turning, his voice now as calm as lake water yet possessing a resonance that pierced through to the very marrow of the bone. "Practitioners often mistakenly believe that ascending to the heavens is the final goal. Yet they forget that the higher the heavens you reach, the colder the winds that strike you, and the lonelier the ground upon which you stand."

He exhaled a thin breath. "You have the foundation of the Shen Ancient Clan, a power so majestic. However, within you, there is a fire born from the ashes of destruction. Do not let the two extinguish each other."

Mo Chen listened with utter solemnity. "Senior's guidance is a blessing that surpasses a hundred years of meditation. This junior shall remember it until his final breath."

Zhi Xuan nodded slowly; he waved his hand and his attire transformed back into the brown robe. "I shall meditate in the pavilion. In the meantime, Ao Sheng and Xiao Die will be your companions while you are at the Heavenly Path Pavilion."

Zhi Xuan walked away, his figure gradually fading among the shadows of the ancient pines, leaving a silence that now felt weightier to Mo Chen. The presence of the brown robe acted like a curtain re-shrouding the mystery of the Devil, leaving Mo Chen with the two beings he had recently clashed with.

Ao Sheng stepped forward, breaking the silence with a low laugh that carried a hint of mockery. "Well, you heard him, didn't you? 'Companions.' Who would have thought Senior would allow a brat from the Southern Region like you to exchange words with us for so long?"

"I do not seek an exchange of words either," Mo Chen replied, instantly stifling Ao Sheng’s laughter. "If you wish to exchange Dao once more, I am still capable of entertaining you both."

Zhi Xuan appeared at the highest pavilion, his robe rustling softly beneath the moonlight. He stepped calmly as the doors opened upon his approach. However, the sound of soft, restless footsteps behind him made him halt his pace.

"Great Elder," the voice belonged to Mu Chen, his tone trembling slightly. "Please forgive this servant for intruding."

Around him, six other disciples—the original disciples of the Heavenly Path Pavilion before the influx from the two great sects—also appeared restless, somber, and intimidated by their own home.

Zhi Xuan turned slowly, letting the moonlight falling through the gaps in the pavilion roof illuminate his face. His eyes swept across the seven figures. He saw a palpable anxiety; they were like a flock of lambs feeling like strangers in their own fold after the arrival of a much stronger pack of wolves.

"Speak," Zhi Xuan said briefly, yet with a majesty that caused the atmosphere in the corridor to freeze.

Mu Chen took a step forward, prostrating himself with his forehead touching the cold wooden floor. "Great Elder... the Heavenly Path Pavilion has now risen beyond our wildest dreams. But... amidst thousands of new disciples with high cultivation, we, the original disciples, feel like dust in the middle of a storm. We feel we no longer have a place in our own home."

Zhi Xuan remained silent for a moment. He understood that bitterness. The thousands of transfer disciples from the two great sects possessed cultivation bases far beyond Mu Chen and his peers. In a world of practitioners that worships strength, the existence of weak original disciples would soon be swallowed by the dominance of the newcomers.

"You feel inferior?" Zhi Xuan asked, his voice flat yet sharp. "You feel this pavilion is no longer yours because you lack the fangs to defend it?"

The six disciples behind Mu Chen bowed even lower. The silence of the night seemed to judge their weakness. They, who should have been seniors, were stuck in the Blood Transformation stage without being able to move forward. Meanwhile, those who should have been their juniors were, at the very lowest, in the Organ Transformation stage.

"Rise," Zhi Xuan commanded. Once they stood, he flicked the sleeve of his brown robe. "You need not worry about that."

From the flick of his sleeve, hundreds of Divine Black Jades suddenly appeared before Zhi Xuan, pulled from the storage bags of the seven disciples. He waved his hand again, and each of the seven received ten of their Divine Black Jades back first. Zhi Xuan carved something in the air, forming a meditative formation that enveloped the seven disciples.

"Being stuck in Blood Transformation without the knowledge of how to ascend to Organ Transformation is indeed painful," Zhi Xuan remarked. "Organ Transformation is a stage distinct from Blood Transformation."

He flicked his fingers and formed seven sparks of light; each spark crawled into the foreheads of the disciples, who immediately sat in the lotus position. "Filter the heaven and earth, forming the Divine Organ Cycle starting from the Wood-Liver, Earth-Spleen, Water-Kidney, Fire-Heart, and Metal-Lung. Feel that resonance with your Divine Wheels; wash your organs with those Divine Black Jades."

The air in the pavilion corridor suddenly roared, filled with spiritual essence so dense it formed a golden mist around the seven disciples. Mu Chen felt a warm current creep into his consciousness, bringing with it a sequence of glowing ancient characters, restructuring his understanding of the laws of the body that had long been blocked.

"Do not let your minds wander toward envy," Zhi Xuan’s voice sounded like an echo from the depths of a silent valley. "A strong practitioner is not born from ease, but from the desire to no longer be prey. You possess Divine Black Jades, yet you were unable to use them."

Mu Chen closed his eyes tight. Within the sea of his consciousness, he saw five colors representing the elemental organs begin to swirl. The liver, representing the wood element, began to throb, absorbing cooling energy and initiating the purification of the organ.

One by one, the sounds of cracking bones and humming organs echoed from their bodies. Sharp pain, like thousands of needles piercing the flesh, began to be felt, yet not one of them dared to make a sound. They knew that in the presence of this figure who had leveled mountains, the chance for direct guidance would not come twice in a thousand years.

Zhi Xuan stood motionless, watching them with an unreadable gaze. To him, these seven disciples were the true roots of the Heavenly Path Pavilion; though weak, they possessed a loyalty not shared by the thousands of transfer disciples now prostrating in the lower courtyards.

"After the dawn breaks, you will no longer be dust," Zhi Xuan murmured lowly. "You will be pillars. This pavilion needs strong roots, not just lush branches that are brittle when struck by a storm."

Zhi Xuan flicked his fingers, summoning the three figures still contending on the hilltop. In an instant, the three appeared beside him as fast as lightning. "You three, oversee their cultivation. I still have something important to do."

Zhi Xuan walked away from the dimness of the corridor, leaving behind the heavy yet stable breathing of the seven disciples wrapped in spiritual mist. He crossed the threshold of the pavilion toward a private room.

He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, letting his brown robe sweep the cold floor. Before him, three stalks of Black Bamboo floated calmly. This was the more pressing task: preparing a return gift for Shen Ruolan.

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Again and again, Zhi Xuan thought. Back then, I gave Zhu Qinglan a Phoenix Bone Hairpin. Now, what should I do as a return for Shen Ruolan?

"A gift for a Holy Maiden of the Shen Clan cannot be a mere artifact that dazzles the eye," Zhi Xuan muttered, his voice echoing softly in the soundproof room. "If I give her ordinary jewelry, it would only demean my dignity and underestimate her sharp senses. She wants something to make her always remember me—a request laden with the entanglements of karma."

He stared intently at the black bamboo before him. "This Black Bamboo was grown as a sword, not for anything else. Giving a sword to a woman? That would only entangle me further and allow me to be fooled by Shen Ruolan."

Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, letting his consciousness dive deep. Giving a sword means giving war, but giving a flower means giving weakness. Shen Ruolan was a figure walking the thin line between charm and authority; she did not need protection, but she craved acknowledgement of her existence in Zhi Xuan’s eyes.

"This Black Bamboo from the Heavenly Path Pavilion has absorbed the sword essence of Senior Jian for hundreds of years," Zhi Xuan whispered. "If I forge this essence into something aligned with her Dao..."

He raised his right hand, triggering a dark blue spiritual fire that burned in his palm. With terrifying precision, he split the black bamboo into fine fibers as thin as hair. The fibers vibrated, emitting a soft yet sharp clinking sound.

Zhi Xuan waved his hand, hovering the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron before him. He cast the fibers into the Divine Cauldron. Inside, the fibers began to cross and fuse together, gradually forming the silhouette of a graceful robe tassel.

Within the furnace, the threads began to weave themselves. The tassel slowly solidified, forming an elegant waist accessory with a small jade pendant at its peak, carved to resemble an unblossomed lotus bud. The pitch-black color of the bamboo now held a deep purple glow, as if a miniature galaxy were trapped within the fibers.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, the fire in the furnace gradually dimmed. Zhi Xuan waved his hand, and the accessory floated out, landing lightly in his palm. A soothing chill radiated from the object, neutralizing the fatigue Zhi Xuan felt.

He gestured, and a jade storage box appeared in his hand. The box opened, and Zhi Xuan placed the ornament inside before closing it. Once the jade box was shut tight, Zhi Xuan took a long breath and withdrew the Divine Cauldron.

"There is still much to do," Zhi Xuan murmured. "Most importantly, the Heavenly Sutra Fragment located beneath this Heavenly Path Pavilion. Before I leave for Chi Di, I must discover what Zhetian the Great left down there."

Dawn broke as Zhi Xuan rose; he turned and walked toward the pavilion door. When the doors opened, he saw Xiao Die, Ao Sheng, and Mo Chen standing and watching the disciples who had finished their organ purification. Upon seeing Zhi Xuan, Ao Sheng and Xiao Die acknowledged him with faint nods, then transformed into a small golden dragon and a tiny moth that darted into the collar of Zhi Xuan’s robe.

Zhi Xuan stood at the threshold, his sapphire-blue eyes staring sharply at the seven original disciples who were now drenched in sweat. Their bodies radiated a faint Wood-Heart aura—a sign that their organs had been touched by divine essence. Mu Chen, sitting at the very front, slowly opened his eyes.

"You have stepped into the second stage of body transformation," Zhi Xuan said, his voice traveling through the cold morning air. "Remember, every organ is interconnected. If you feel doubt, your path will be narrow. If you are bold, you will continue to advance. Go, and refine your understanding."

The seven disciples immediately prostrated with solemnity, their foreheads touching the wooden floor which now felt warm from the remnants of spiritual essence. Without a word, Mu Chen led his companions to withdraw, their footsteps now much steadier and firmer, no longer faltering under the weight of inferiority that had previously crushed their chests.

Zhi Xuan turned his gaze to Mo Chen, who still stood motionless at the side of the corridor. The pale morning sunlight illuminated the youth’s face, highlighting a hard jawline—a sign of determination forged by storms.

"Mo Chen," Zhi Xuan called calmly. "Come with me."

Mo Chen did not answer with words; instead, he immediately tightened his purple robe and stepped exactly three paces behind Zhi Xuan. He could feel that every step his Senior took was not random; there was a secret rhythm that seemed to merge with the heartbeat of the earth beneath the Heavenly Path Pavilion.

Zhi Xuan crossed a quiet path. In the distance, the voices of disciples practicing and cultivating could be heard; the Heavenly Path Pavilion was truly more alive now. Zhi Xuan radiated his divine sense, his consciousness creeping outward, sharpened by his Heavenly Eye, dissecting the surroundings to find the resonance of the Heavenly Sutra Fragment.

Up ahead, he found Duan Niu and Jian Dao standing as if waiting for him. Zhi Xuan’s steps stopped before the two figures who stood like gatekeepers between the past and the present. Jian Dao looked at Zhi Xuan with deep understanding, while Duan Niu rubbed his potbelly with a grin.

"Daoist Zhang," Jian Dao greeted, his voice heavy and echoing in the thin morning air. "I know one of your goals in helping the Heavenly Path Pavilion is the presence of the Heavenly Sutra Fragment. Thus, I shall now show you its location."

"Wait, wait," Duan Niu called out, stepping forward. His gaze swept over Mo Chen for a moment, confusion in his eyes. "Hey, who is this? His face looks exactly like that follower of Holy Maiden Shen from yesterday."

Mo Chen immediately offered a bow with highly disciplined movements, yet his eyes remained calm. "Junior Mo Chen gives greetings to Senior Duan Niu and Ancestor Jian Dao."

Jian Dao merely nodded faintly, his gaze as if capable of dissecting Mo Chen's mind. Meanwhile, Duan Niu snorted, his eyes narrowing inquisitively. "My, my! So this snot-nosed brat was actually left behind by that Holy Maiden? Daoist Zhang, are you truly not afraid of being dragged to the Shen Clan's court for kidnapping one of their prime seeds?"

Zhi Xuan did not respond to Duan Niu’s jest; instead, he gestured for Jian Dao to lead the way to the Heavenly Sutra Fragment. A record left by a Great Emperor would undoubtedly be very useful if he could understand it.

Jian Dao turned, his gray robe sweeping the stone floor as he walked toward a steep cliff that jutted out over a ravine in the center of the earth-vein hill and spiritual spring. Those there immediately leaped down, darting toward the bottom of the ravine.

The air at the bottom of the ravine felt different; denser, colder, and carrying an ancient scent that seemed to come from a time before the Nine Plains were separated. The cliff walls around them were no longer covered in moss or shrubs, but were lined with eternal ice crystals that emitted a pale blue glow, illuminating the dark ravine without the need for torches.

Jian Dao landed lightly on the surface of a frozen pond at the bottom of the abyss. He walked across the ice toward a narrow crack behind a waterfall that had also frozen into a giant crystal curtain. Zhi Xuan followed behind, each of his steps leaving no trace, while Mo Chen felt the spiritual pressure in this place begin to press against his Divine Wheel.

"Since the ancestor who founded the Heavenly Path Pavilion sacrificed himself for Zhetian’s ascension," Jian Dao began. "None of the ancestor's descendants dared to approach the area of the Heavenly Sutra Fragment, even in my time. But that is different now, as Daoist Zhang has generously overturned everything and brought the Heavenly Path Pavilion back to life."

Jian Dao’s steps stopped before a black stone wall whose surface was extremely smooth, as if carved by a single stroke of a perfect god-sword. In the center of the wall was a shallow palm-shaped indentation surrounded by streaks of ancient characters pulsing dimly, radiating a foreign and distant presence.

Jian Dao bit his finger slightly, flicking his blood onto the wall. "Founding Ancestor, bless your descendant and allow this unfilial one to enter."

Instantly, the blood flicked onto the black stone surface glowed with a blinding light, traveling through the gaps of the ancient characters like a stream finding its path. A low rumble shook their footing. The stone wall that was previously impenetrable slowly faded, revealing a passage shrouded in extremely pure white mist.

Zhi Xuan stepped inside, followed by Mo Chen, who was now struggling to keep himself from wavering under the pressure of the place. There, a stone altar floated in the center of the room, and upon the altar lay a fragment of an ancient silk scroll that appeared fragile yet radiated an authority transcending all worldly laws.

"There it is," Jian Dao whispered, his voice full of profound respect. "The Heavenly Sutra Fragment, the record of a mortal who surpassed the limits of the Lower Realm. From the Great Emperor, who was capable of standing alongside the Great Emperors of the Ancient Clans."

Zhi Xuan stepped closer, every beat of his heart resonating with the vibrations emitted by the scroll. In this room, he felt as if time were slowing down, frozen in a silent eternity. The Heavenly Sutra Fragment before him was not merely old parchment; it was the remnants of the will of a human who had challenged the laws of Heaven and won his right to be remembered.

His sapphire-blue eyes began to glow as his Heavenly Eye instinctively attempted to dissect the layers of laws protecting the scroll. Suddenly, within his vision, the room transformed. The white mist enveloping them was not merely spiritual essence, but a web of destiny threads intertwining, forming a massive net centered on the fragment.