Daoist Competition

Qingtong Mountain lies in the northwest territory of the East Splendor Continent, a vast expanse of wilderness where peaks rise abruptly from the plains. Towering and steep as blades, their verdant hues are striking, their shapes peculiar, resembling half-cut pillar stumps.

By the time Zhang Yan arrived, night had already fallen. From a hundred miles away, he could see a magnificent treasure aura wafting into the sky, brightly coloring the heavens as if painted by the glow of sunset. It illuminated the night as it intertwined with the stars above, its beauty unmatched and surreal.

He raised his head and spotted several streaks of tunneling light darting across the sky like meteors. These belonged to cultivators similarly heading toward Qingtong Mountain.

The commotion in Qingtong Mountain was undeniably extraordinary. Among the practitioners of the Dao, it was widely assumed that either an Immortal Mansion was emerging or a Demonic Palace was surfacing. Thus, upon hearing the news, many hurried over, afraid of arriving late and letting others claim the spoils.

When Zhang Yan had passed earlier, he noticed many disciples of the Xuanmen, though his swift sword escape carried him by in a flash, preventing anyone from recognizing him.

He pondered silently: given his current status, if he were to charge forward openly, he would surely attract unwanted attention, likely inciting vigilance and distrust in others.

This journey was undertaken under secret orders from the Sect Leader, after all, so it was unwise to act too conspicuously. After a moment’s deliberation, he murmured to himself, "It seems I must conceal myself once more."

He reached into his sleeve and pulled out the "Thousand Illusion Jade Mirror." Flipping through its pages and stopping after ten or so, his gaze settled on the image of a young cultivator.

This individual had an ordinary appearance, with no remarkable features—perfect for his needs. Zhang Yan smiled faintly, fixing his gaze on the portrait. With a flick of the treasure, the figure stepped out and merged with his own form. A wisp of Clear Qi swept by, transforming his appearance entirely.

Examining his sleeve, Zhang Yan noticed that his treasure clothes were quite eye-catching. He retrieved a crane robe and draped it over himself to conceal the garment. After carefully inspecting for flaws and finding none, he nodded in satisfaction and soared into the air.

After flying no more than ten miles, he spotted a solitary earthen mound in the wilderness. Atop it rested a Jade Couch, upon which stood an elder garbed in a red robe, scrutinizing the passing cultivators. When Zhang Yan approached, the elder cast a chilling glance in his direction.

"Isn’t this Xu Gongyuan?"

Upon closer inspection, Zhang Yan raised his brows, recognizing the other man’s identity.

However, his current guise eliminated any desire for confrontation. After briefly observing, he urged his Tunnel Smoke forward and sped away.

The two men’s gazes met fleetingly, leaving Xu Gongyuan with a vague sense of familiarity, as though he’d seen this individual somewhere before. Yet, no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t recall anything tangible. A man of his standing never failed to remember those he’d encountered, and his expression darkened.

Once Zhang Yan had disappeared, a faint, hazy wisp—tinged with a yellowish murk—drifted by. The Old Daoist’s voice resonated in Xu Gongyuan’s ear, saying, "What is it? Do you know this person? If he’s your enemy, speak the word, and I will seize him for you."

Xu Gongyuan hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and replying solemnly, "Never mind. Perhaps I’ve mistaken him for someone else."

Despite harboring lingering doubts about Zhang Yan’s identity, Xu Gongyuan decided against summoning the Old Demon to act. He feared that when he finally confronted his true nemesis, the Old Demon might refuse to lend his aid.

Lamentably, Xu Gongyuan uttered these words without realizing that the man he’d desperately sought had already brushed past him.

At this moment, before Qingtong Mountain, an array gate resembling a ceremonial arch appeared and disappeared intermittently. Around it hovered hundreds of cultivators, drifting like chaotic stars. Most hesitated, uncertain whether to venture inside.

Occasionally, some daring individuals entered the formation. Yet within moments, they found themselves inexplicably transported to the mountain’s rear—luckier ones, indeed. Others who entered the array had yet to emerge, leaving their fate unknown.

As a result, despite the large gathering of cultivators here, those proficient in array formations were few and far between. Many grew cautious and hesitant, unwilling to storm ahead recklessly.

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In a secluded corner on the western edge, five or six cultivators from the Five Smoke Mountain Jingyuan Immortal Mansion gathered. One among them surveyed the great array and shook his head, saying, "I cannot discern the principles governing this formation’s operations. It is utterly unpredictable."

A middle-aged cultivator, seemingly their leader, turned to glance behind him. There sat an elder with a silvery beard, engrossed in his work, repeatedly calculating with an assortment of bamboo divination rods. The leader calmly remarked, "No need to rush. Let’s wait for Elder Hu’s calculations."