Chapter Twenty-Nine The Performance Begins

Nine days later, at the Palace of Pure Law, atop the Towering Cliff.

This precipice was renowned for its perilous terrain, with eight jutting rocks stretching out over the abyss, interlinked by iron beams as thick as an arm. Now, the endless clouds and mists had long since been dispersed by the cultivators’ great powers.

The disciples of the Palace of Pure Law, the sect’s division most dedicated to combat, gathered here daily to spar and hone their battle techniques. Thus, the surrounding cliffs bore countless marks from the clashes of spiritual treasures.

At dawn, disciples from the Four Halls and Seven Peaks arrived in succession. As soon as they set foot on the clifftop, they felt the sharp, lingering aura left behind by centuries of fierce duels, and their expressions all shifted.

This aura was unlike that of the Treasure Division Cliff or the Path of Heart-Questioning behind the Palace of Law Elucidation. Deep, irregular lines etched into the cliff face emanated a mighty pressure from the Dao itself—vestiges of battles fought centuries past by seniors of the upper three realms.

Some lower-ranked disciples could barely withstand this pressure, but the intervention of their elders provided relief, allowing them to recover some strength.

This time, the Four Halls’ demonstration would include not only the second-generation disciples who had cultivated for years, but also the newly initiated fourth-generation disciples. Thus, the most outstanding prodigies of the sect would compete side by side.

As the disciples from the Four Halls and Seven Peaks took their seats, a deep and sonorous bell tolled atop the Towering Cliff.

Above the clouds, in the viewing platform, a middle-aged man in black robes appeared as if from nothing, his countenance stern and his gaze razor-sharp.

An immediate stir rippled through the crowd.

This was Xun Ju, Master of the Palace of Pure Law.

Rarely seen in public, he had personally come to preside over this grand assembly.

Xun Ju’s gaze swept around, and wherever it fell, silence reigned.

A succession of radiant lights descended from the heavens.

Yu Wenwen landed on the side of the True Crossing Hall, standing atop her immortal sword, her dark hair fluttering like a celestial maiden descended to earth.

Fang Hen stood proudly at the very front of his fellow disciples from the Palace of Pure Law, his imposing figure inspiring admiration.

At the head of the Palace of Law Elucidation stood a middle-aged man with the plain appearance of a farmer, clad in coarse robes—he was Fan Weimin.

In contrast to the lively atmosphere around the other three halls, the Hall of Profound Sanctity was somber and solitary, attended by only one person: the Realman Daofan.

Recent events on Sitting-Forgotten Peak had become the talk of the entire sect. Those with keen ears already knew the full story, and some had even guessed the mastermind to be a major figure from the Seven Peaks.

Since Shen Yu descended the mountain, many believed the delicate youth would surely appear here. After all, he had inherited a spiritual treasure and spent over two years cultivating at Feilai Peak, the very seat of the sect master—his strength could not be underestimated.

But he did not come.

Many disciples were disappointed, lamenting that the serene boy seemed uninterested in participating.

Yet, unlike the disappointed disciples, the elders seated on the viewing platform all wore grave expressions. Even the Master of the Palace of Pure Law cast his gaze toward Daofan’s direction.

It was unexpected.

Over the years of the Four Halls’ demonstrations, Daofan had never appeared once.

They all knew Daofan’s temperament—aloof, tranquil, not one for crowds or excitement.

But today, he had come. Clearly, something significant was about to unfold.

...

At last, the Four Halls demonstration began.

Mingjian, who had been in seclusion for two years, emerged from the Palace of Law Elucidation to stand upon the central stone dais.

Only now did many younger disciples realize that the guide on that day at Emerald Bamboo Peak, Realman Mingjian, was in fact from the Palace of Law Elucidation.

Next, Li Hanyue leaped from the Cloudmist Peak viewing platform, landing with a smile. “It’s been a while, Senior Brother Mingjian—you’re more impressive than ever.”

Mingjian said nothing, merely scanning the crowd as if searching for someone.

...

Li Hanyue said calmly, “Senior Brother, there’s no need to look for him. He won’t come. The young disciples may not know, but you do. It’s been less than two years—even if Shen Yu came, he would only face humiliation.”

Mingjian remembered that day in the Palace of Law Elucidation and replied resolutely, “You’re wrong. He will come.”

Li Hanyue snapped his folding fan shut. “Let’s begin, Senior Brother.”

“Very well,” Mingjian replied.

...

The fan in Li Hanyue’s hand was a renowned spiritual treasure, the Mountain-River Fan.

With each flick and fold, countless illusions of mountains and rivers surged forth, pressing upon Mingjian.

As those conjured peaks and rivers descended, Li Hanyue tapped the stone with his toes, his figure drifting on the wind. His right hand formed a sword with his fingers.

A streak of green light sliced through the air.

The Mountain-River Fan, paired with Li Hanyue’s finger-sword technique, filled the entire dais with his presence.

The sight drew thunderous cheers from the disciples.

Mingjian’s expression was untroubled; he simply stepped forward.

Boom!

Dust billowed.

The sword energy unleashed by the finger-sword technique, and the power of the conjured mountains and rivers, exploded in an instant.

Mingjian took another step.

In a blink, he stood before Li Hanyue.

Li Hanyue shifted from sword to fist, punching toward Mingjian’s brow, the force fierce as a storm.

Mingjian sighed softly, extended his right hand, and pointed lightly.

The crowd gasped at what happened next.

Li Hanyue’s right fist froze in midair, unable to advance an inch further, while Mingjian’s fingertip hovered a mere inch from his brow.

Li Hanyue was defeated.

...

“So he’s already reached the Realm of Wandering Spirit,” observed Realman Daochen of the Palace of Pure Law, serving as arbiter for this demonstration. One glance had told him Mingjian’s level.

Xu Qingmei added, “He joined the Palace of Law Elucidation early, always cultivating at a steady, unremarkable pace, and his talent was considered ordinary. Who would have thought he’d be the first second-generation disciple to enter the Realm of Wandering Spirit? Wenwen, it seems you have another formidable opponent.”

Yu Wenwen stood quietly to the side, her beautiful eyes unreadable—no one could guess her thoughts.

No one expected the first match to end so swiftly. Many young disciples could not appreciate the danger within, and enthusiasm waned.

However, the following bouts were exceedingly fierce—spiritual treasures flashed, myriad arcane arts dazzled. The crowd’s blood ran hot with excitement.

After several matches, another entered the arena.

At the sight of him, the disciples on the viewing platforms began to whisper.

The young man was handsome, bearing an ancient-style immortal sword on his back, his manner exuding unrestrained ease.

This was Fu Yi, a second-generation disciple and the personal disciple of Zhang Zhi, master of Sitting-Forgotten Peak.

He was the one who had destroyed the Flowing Cloud Sword of Yang Liu atop Sitting-Forgotten Peak and left her gravely injured.

Many turned their gaze toward the Four Halls’ platform, only to find that the three who had stormed Sitting-Forgotten Peak that day were absent.

With just a few casual swings, Fu Yi sent a young disciple from Divine Grace Peak tumbling off the platform. What surprised everyone was that, after his victory, Fu Yi remained on the dais.

He looked toward the Hall of Profound Sanctity, a mysterious smile on his lips.

The crowd realized his intent—he meant to challenge the boy from the Hall of Profound Sanctity.

“I’ve heard that Junior Brother Shen of the Hall of Profound Sanctity obtained the legacy of an innate spiritual treasure at Treasure Division Cliff, and his cultivation has soared. I wonder if he’s here today?” Fu Yi let his sword dangle and said, “If so, I’d like to ask for a lesson. If not… well, never mind.”

The Towering Cliff was silent.

Fu Yi appeared unconcerned, his gaze fixed on the Hall of Profound Sanctity.

One glance could tell whether Shen Yu was present, but Fu Yi called out anyway, making his challenge unmistakable.

This left many puzzled—how could he be so bold? Shen Yu was the sect master’s personal disciple, hailing from the most mysterious and powerful Hall of Profound Sanctity. What gave a mere disciple from Sitting-Forgotten Peak such confidence?

The sharper disciples glanced toward the Palace of Pure Law. At the sight of that towering figure, they hurriedly averted their eyes, fearing to draw his notice.

Realman Daofan sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation.

At the Palace of Law Elucidation’s viewing platform, Mingjian frowned, as if about to step forward.

From the direction of the True Crossing Hall, the immortal sword at Yu Wenwen’s back trembled faintly though there was no wind.

Her little uncle had always said she liked Shen Yu best.

More importantly, she still owed that delicate youth a favor for what happened atop Treasure Division Cliff.

...

In the end, Mingjian did not step forward.

Yu Wenwen’s sword stilled.

For at that moment, a clear birdsong echoed from the sky.

As the sea of clouds parted, a massive, resplendent immortal bird glided serenely into view.

Everyone looked up in shock, their hearts pounding.

So, the youth had been here all along—above them, at a height none had imagined.

With a graceful leap, the delicate figure landed atop the stone dais, having descended from the back of the azure luan.

He looked at Fu Yi and said calmly, “I heard you were looking for me.”