Chapter 87: That Temple

Ming Cao finally saw the man’s face clearly, and for a moment, he felt dazed. He seemed to have seen this face somewhere before. Then it came to him: this was Shen Yu of the Daoist Sect, the second disciple taken in by Master Dao Yan, the sect leader. His arrival had stirred quite a commotion within the Daoist Sect, and naturally, the land of Qianchuan had kept close tabs on these matters.

“What a Daoist Sect, what a Shen Yu,” came a cold, venomous voice from the black mist. Zhong Shenlu was still of great use to the land of Qianchuan; simply by stepping into the Upper Three Realms, his strength had become an undeniable force. Otherwise, Ming Cao would never have risked revealing himself here. Yet after enduring the combined assault of three powerful cultivators, he found himself thwarted not by them, but by this young man before him, who was only at the Golden Core stage.

What made it even harder to believe was that the boy’s gaze inspired a faint sense of dread in him.

With this thought, a surge of murderous intent welled up in Ming Cao’s heart. Bracing against his internal injuries, he swung his hand back and struck out with his palm. In midair, the lotus platform manifested a palm print formed from black mist, which crashed towards the figure in the green robe.

Among cultivators who had attained the Upper Three Realms, even a casual blow was not something ordinary practitioners could withstand.

Boom!

The summit of Fallen Immortal Peak seemed to be cleaved in two. Countless rocks and trees tumbled down to the foot of the mountain, while the disciples of Returning Clouds Immortal Sect scattered in panic from their gathering point midway up the slope.

Buddhist light surged.

As the dust settled, a spirit monkey was revealed, standing between Shen Yu and Lu Caiwei, having blocked the blow just in time.

The distant black mist let out a cold snort and, without a moment’s pause, vanished instantly into the horizon.

Shen Yu stood calmly atop a steep stone, his expression undisturbed.

Lu Caiwei watched Shen Yu, noticing that at this moment, he seemed somehow different from before.

“Well done, young man! Not bad at all.”

“A disciple of the Daoist Sect, truly living up to the reputation.”

Old Daoist Liu Shouyi arrived with Jiang Zhouyao in tow.

“What rank is Ming Cao from the land of Qianchuan?” Liu Shouyi squatted on a nearby stone, no longer carrying the lofty air he’d displayed when facing the top cultivator earlier. Scratching his ear lazily, he said, “Qianchuan has six officials: Heaven Cao, Earth Cao, Ming Cao, God Cao, Human Cao, and Ghost Cao. All are highly esteemed cultivators; the one you just saw was Ming Cao.”

Jiang Zhouyao continued, “As for the other officials, they rarely appear, especially Heaven and Earth Cao, who are the most secretive.”

Shen Yu nodded lightly.

From the foot of the peak came the bustling sound of footsteps.

“We have you to thank for drawing them here. Otherwise, if something had happened to the young disciples of Returning Clouds Immortal Sect, the sect would truly suffer a terrible blow.”

The middle-aged scholar coughed several times, blood staining his lips. “Leave the rest to me.”

Shen Yu asked, “Are you able to handle it in your current state?”

Jiang Zhouyao smiled easily, “I can.”

...

The scholar descended the mountain, the guardian spirit beast following close behind. Soon, the sounds below faded away.

After this great battle, it seemed that the spiritual energy within a thousand miles had dissipated completely, leaving the heavens and earth bright and clear.

Lu Caiwei, having been shaken to her core earlier, was now overcome by fatigue. Before long, she leaned against the stone wall and gradually drifted into sleep.

Shen Yu turned to look—the entire sect was nearly reduced to ruins. It would be a long time before Returning Clouds Immortal Sect could recover.

Only three remained atop the peak.

Shen Yu spoke, “Go ahead.”

The old Daoist from the Sacred Land of Kunlun adopted a more solemn demeanor. “I’ve spent years wandering the Spirit Wilds for two reasons: first, to find a disciple worthy of inheriting my teachings…”

Liu Shouyi glanced at the sleeping girl in the distance and grinned. “That part is done. A pure spirit body, perfectly aligned with the Dao I seek—truly heaven’s favor.”

Shen Yu remained composed. “And the second?”

Liu Shouyi pondered for a moment, then asked, “Do you know of the Divine Palace?”

Shen Yu shook his head.

“In ancient times, it was said that the heavens had gods, who established the rules of the world, order, spiritual energy, the three thousand Dao, the cycle of life and death—creating this complete world. Countless elders speculated that a formless will governed all from above the sky, but none had ever seen it, not even those of us who had reached the Upper Three Realms, whose cultivation was almost at its limit.

“But a thousand years ago, with a monumental spiritual rain sweeping the continent, everything changed. Countless cultivators broke through their limits as the rain fell. One person appeared on Celestial Summit, said to be just a step away from the heavens. On its peak, he built an ethereal palace known as the Divine Palace and claimed to be born in accordance with the will of heaven and earth.”

Here, the old Daoist’s face was unusually solemn as he gazed at the horizon, murmuring, “No one knows if it’s true. In a thousand years, only a handful have reached the summit of Celestial Mountain, and those few, whose cultivation was unmatched, descended in silence, never speaking of that place.”

Shen Yu said, “It seems to be real.”

From then on, the Divine Palace stood high above the cultivation world, surpassing the Nine Sacred Lands to become its most mysterious entity.

Shen Yu’s expression showed little fluctuation.

In the past, when he had stepped into that elusive immortal realm, he’d already felt the presence of such a will.

Suddenly Shen Yu asked, “What does all this have to do with you seeking me?”

The Divine Palace and the will of Heaven were matters that had occurred long after his death. Shen Yu hadn’t even known these events had taken place.

“The Dao I cultivate is quite special, so I am able to sense traces of the elusive great Dao in the world. With the help of Kunlun’s treasured relic, I once sent my soul down the river of time to personally witness the spiritual rain of that year, and I discovered an issue.

“After the rain known as Spirit Grace fell, cultivators did break through, but afterwards, no one advanced further, and soon all perished entirely. In other words, the breakthrough came at the cost of consuming the life force and potential within countless cultivators, not out of divine benevolence.

At this moment, Liu Shouyi was no longer the fortune-telling trickster, but a true immortal of the Daoist tradition atop Kunlun Mountain.

He spoke each word deliberately: “If my conjecture is correct, Spirit Grace was in fact a malignant rain. How could the Divine Palace carry the will of Heaven? Wouldn’t that mean it has deceived everyone in the world?”

Shen Yu was silent for a long time, then said, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Liu Shouyi replied, “Years ago, I happened to be traveling in South River City. That day, there was also rain. When it stopped, you were born in the Shen family.”

Shen Yu lifted his head slightly, his expression calm.

“That rain was different from the Spirit Grace I witnessed, but there was a similarity. So I wanted to see you, hoping to find some clues. Yet, several times, I missed you due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Shen Yu understood his meaning.

The old Daoist suspected he might have some connection to the Heavenly Court—or, more precisely, was worried he might bring calamity to the world, just as that rain had done.

Shen Yu said, “Have you ever considered another possibility?”

Liu Shouyi was taken aback.

Shen Yu continued earnestly, “That rain—or the aura of the Divine Palace—perhaps they truly followed the will of Heaven.”