Chapter 18: The contest to become the Sect Heir is officially open
The Palace of the Immortal Tao Sect was a majestic edifice, carved from stone as ancient as the world itself. Its gigantic columns supported a ceiling where shifting constellations softly glowed, replicas of the starry sky above the Eastern Continent. The atmosphere was imbued with a silent solemnity, interrupted only by the flow of Qi that coursed through the air like an invisible river.
At the far end of the main hall, three imposing thrones were arranged in a semicircle. On the central seat sat Tianzun Yuangshi, an old man with a piercing gaze, his features meticulously maintained despite his advanced age. His long white beard fell gracefully to his chest, and he slowly stroked it, meditative, as his eyes swept the room. Ten elders were gathered before him, discussing in hushed tones, but his attention was drawn to an empty throne on his right.
—"It seems Tianzun Lingbao is absent," he remarked softly, his gaze lingering on the vacant seat.
To his left, Tianzun Daode slouched on his own throne, his posture starkly contrasting with Yuangshi’s dignity. Far from the image of a venerable sage, he appeared disheveled, clad in rags that made him look like a mere beggar. Barefoot, he cleaned his yellowed teeth with a jade toothpick, absentmindedly removing remnants of meat he had consumed the previous week.
—"Yeah, she’s too disrespectful, that brat. It was an order from the Sect Leader, and she didn’t even bother to show up," he grumbled, scratching his head, his unkempt hair accentuating his casual demeanor.
Yuangshi shot him a look of disdain but chose to ignore him.
The other elders exchanged discreet glances. Tianzun Daode, criticizing another’s disrespect while presenting himself in such a pitiful state, was an irony too glaring to be pointed out. But all knew that beneath his rough appearance, he was a monster in cultivation. Starting his training at fifty and reaching the rank of Heavenly King was an exploit deemed impossible before his existence.
The heavy silence was suddenly shattered by an overwhelming presence.
A chill ran through the hall as time seemed to slow, and black snow began to fall slowly from the ceiling, each flake swirling in a silent dance before dissolving midway.
A figure appeared at the entrance. The man had long black hair cascading to the floor, and dark armor covered his slender frame. A cape billowed behind him, rippling in an invisible wind. His face, with features of an almost unreal youth, bore a stern expression, and his icy black eyes swept the room with an imperious gaze.
Each step he took left frost on the polished jade floor. When he reached his throne, he no longer walked but floated lightly before sitting in a fluid motion.