The Heavenly Court must be visited.
Whether the Kaiyuan Deer Cauldron is the Zhang family’s former divine artifact or not, it must be reclaimed. However, Zhang Ruochen still had unresolved matters in the Kunlun Realm and couldn’t leave immediately.
The old man refused to let Zhang Ruochen go, fearing he’d slip away again.
“I need to visit the Sword Pavilion first to return an item to Granny Haitang. Want to come along?” Zhang Ruochen asked.
“No good, the deathly qi is surging again. I must suppress it with all my strength.”
The old man turned and rushed into the depths of the tomb forest, glancing back coldly. “Don’t think about escaping. I’ll find you, no matter where you go.”
Zhang Ruochen shook his head slightly, abandoning his plan to explore the tomb forest. He plucked three Great Saint Dao Fruits, stored them in the Spring of Life, and left Wang Mountain.
This old man had too many underhanded tricks. Zhang Ruochen dared not travel to the Heavenly Court with him.
Who knew what trouble he’d cause?
…
Zhang Ruochen visited Hanshan Mountain of the Qianshui Count King to pay respects to the Qianshui Count King and other royal clan members.
These people had died because of him, and Zhang Ruochen still felt guilt.
A thousand years later, the Qianshui Commandery no longer existed, and the Count King’s title was no longer held by the Huang family. Some tombs even showed signs of being looted.
He poured a jug of wine, lit incense, cleared the overgrown weeds, righted fallen tombstones, and carved Great Saint inscriptions to prevent further desecration.
…
Leaving Hanshan Mountain, Zhang Ruochen went to the Lei Saint Clan.
Each time he returned to the Kunlun Realm, he made it a point to drink with Lei Jing.
Lei Jing, his first master and one of the kindest cultivators to him in the Kunlun Realm, had limited talent and never broke through to the Saint King realm. No longer robust, his teeth were gone, his face was covered in age spots, and his hair was sparse enough to count.
The younger generations of the Lei Saint Clan, hearing a Saint had emerged, knelt outside the door.
In the main hall, only Lei Jing and Zhang Ruochen remained.
Lei Jing said, “These years, I’ve only survived this long thanks to the life-prolonging elixirs from Master Luo Xu. Otherwise, you wouldn’t see me now, kid.”
His speech was slurred.
“You’re this old, no more drinking.”
Zhang Ruochen moved the wine cup away, prompting Lei Jing to glare and roar, “Put the wine down, or I’ll make you regret it. I haven’t touched a drop in three hundred years. I’m happy today!”
Zhang Ruochen drank the wine in one gulp, refilled the cup with water from the Spring of Life, and handed it back. “What’s with the shouting? No teeth, can’t even hear you clearly. Drink this.”
After examining Lei Jing’s body, Zhang Ruochen found his life force nearly extinguished, his potential depleted. Helping him reach the Saint King realm was impossible.
“When I arrived, I noticed a promising talent in the Lei Saint Clan, already a Saint. Is he your chosen successor?” Zhang Ruochen asked.
Lei Jing grinned slyly. “That kid’s my grandson. As his elder, shouldn’t you show something?”
Zhang Ruochen took out a Great Saint Dao Fruit and handed it over. “This was meant for you, but you’re too old to use it now! Decide what to do with it.”
Zhang Ruochen drank wine, Lei Jing sipped spring water, and they talked at length.
They laughed and teased each other from time to time.
The next day, Zhang Ruochen left the Lei Saint Clan. Before departing, he had Shang Xia carve Great Saint inscriptions in the clan’s ancestral hall, a final act for his master.
…
Zhang Ruochen went to the Eastern Region Saint City.
Years ago, Chen Yuhua passed the Torch Order to him, making him the Lord of the Eastern Region, able to command all sects there.
Uninterested in the position, Zhang Ruochen entrusted the Torch Order to Jiang Yunchong and Yan Ruo for safekeeping, letting them protect the Eastern Region with its power.
This time, returning to the Saint City, he didn’t see Jiang Yunchong. After inquiring, he learned Jiang spent most of his time in the Heavenly Court.
The Torch Order had been passed to Chen Yuhua’s descendant, Chen Wutian.
Pleased with this outcome, Zhang Ruochen noted the Torch Order had returned to the Chen family after a full circle.
“East Wutian, West Wufa. South Xinshu, North Yutian. Central Region, billions in nine states. A decade for a small era, a century for a great era. In a century, who rules the Kunlun Realm? The *Ode to Heroes* weaves the world’s tale.”
“Talented lady, a century makes a great era, so what’s a millennium? After a thousand years, who in the *Ode to Heroes* became a hero, and who became a lonely soul?”
Reciting the *Ode to Heroes*, Zhang Ruochen left the Eastern Region Saint Academy.
Many passing academy disciples didn’t understand his words. A thousand years was too long, and many generations of young heroes had come and gone.
He had come to find Sword Saint Xuanji and Luo Xu, but both were in the Heavenly Court, only occasionally returning to the Saint City.
Walking down the bustling street, a troop of soldiers on silver-horned rhinos passed neatly, bearing a flag with “Silver Sky” written on it, their iron hooves fading into the distance.
The flag felt familiar to Zhang Ruochen, but he quickly dismissed it and used the city’s spatial teleportation array to reach the Liangyi Sect.
…
The current sect leader of the Liangyi Sect was Gai Tianjiao, one of the former Nine Heirs.
Zhang Ruochen didn’t meet his senior sister. Unseen by others, he visited the Sword Pavilion and returned the *Wordless Sword Manual* to Granny Haitang.
As he left, he casually remarked, “A strange figure appeared in the ancestral land deep in Ming Sect, claiming to be some venerable with an odd personality. Does Granny know of such a figure from medieval times?”
“What does he look like?” Granny Haitang asked coldly.
Zhang Ruochen shook his head. “That old man is elusive, seemingly afraid to show himself. I didn’t see his face clearly. But Wang Mountain is the Zhang family’s ancestral land, and this odd figure appeared suddenly. With my cultivation, I couldn’t handle him. If Granny has time, perhaps visit Ming Sect to help me deal with him.”
“Let’s go now. I want to see if that old corpse is playing dead!” Granny Haitang gritted her teeth, seething with anger.
The Calamity Venerable’s power was unfathomable, and Zhang Ruochen couldn’t contend with him. He didn’t want to get involved and risk a big loss.
So, he said, “I can’t. I have other important matters to handle and can only return in a few days. How about this: Granny, head to Ming Sect first, and I’ll send word to the sect leader in advance.”
“That works.”
Granny Haitang was deeply invested in this matter. Shortly after Zhang Ruochen left the Liangyi Sect, she set off for Ming Sect.
From a snowy peak in the Death God Mountain Range, Zhang Ruochen watched Granny Haitang fly east as a seven-coloured cloud, a knowing smile on his face.
The old man had been wreaking havoc in Ming Sect, lawless and unrestrained. Someone needed to rein him in.
…
The Book Sect, one of the four Confucian sects, was founded in ancient times by the Third Confucian Ancestor. Built by the Sea of Learning and Book Mountain, it was a pilgrimage site for Confucian disciples worldwide.
Even the Kunlun Realm’s once-strongest figure, Ten Tribulations Heavenly Monarch, had crossed the Sea of Learning, climbed Book Mountain, and studied under the Confucian Ancestor in his youth.
Sadly, thirty thousand years ago, the Third Confucian Ancestor, one of the Twenty Heavens, perished in an unknown place.
Today was the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the Lantern Festival. Thousands of sails crossed the Sea of Learning.
On the boats, young Confucian men and women in robes competed in poetry, played music, chess, and sparred with swords.
After landing, they climbed Book Mountain’s stone path.
The cliffs were covered with inscriptions from ancient sages.
Book Mountain was grand and towering, with green pines on cliffs, emerald bamboo by streams, white mist in valleys, and the sound of chanting rising from the earth to the clouds.
Nalan Danqing’s cottage was on the North Cliff.
The North Cliff was lush with holy bamboo, its leaves greener than jade, its shoots exuding a captivating fragrance. Legend said the first bamboo, planted by the Confucian Ancestor, was called the “Heaven-Reaching Bamboo,” growing from the ground to the heavens.
Sadly, it had long been destroyed.
Yet, the North Cliff still held the Confucian Ancestor’s ancestral writings, stronger than divine patterns, posing mortal danger to reckless intruders.
Nalan Danqing, dressed in white, stood on the North Cliff, gazing at the sunset over the Sea of Learning.
In the sunset’s glow, the water shimmered with golden scales, dazzlingly bright.
She recited:
“The sunset melts gold, evening clouds merge like jade, where am I? Willow smoke thickens, plum flute wails, how much spring remains? The Lantern Festival, mild weather, but storms will follow.”
“In the Central Region’s prime, with leisure in the boudoir, I recall favoring the fifteenth. Adorned with emerald crowns, golden snow willows, vying in elegance. Now withered, with wind-tossed hair and frosted temples, I fear going out at night.”
Light footsteps approached from behind.
Wan Canglan, in fiery red armor, led by a white-haired old woman, arrived at the North Cliff. Hearing Nalan Danqing’s verse, she said, “Why so melancholic, Danqing? You’ve chosen seclusion, yet you long for the past?”
Nalan Danqing smiled faintly. “Festivals always stir sentimentality. Sister, with your endless duties, you found time this Lantern Festival to visit me?”
Wan Canglan’s figure was striking, her tight armor accentuating her curves, her long legs bare and alluring.
Among the Nine Heavenly Maidens, Wan Canglan and Nalan Danqing were opposites.
One calm as water, the other fierce as fire.
Wan Canglan said, “Did you know the bookworm was forced to break through to the Supreme Realm?”
“Why? In the Ten Thousand Deaths Realm, his Saintly Way rules likely haven’t reached ten trillion. Breaking through now means he’ll never become a top-tier mortal powerhouse,” Nalan Danqing said. Though secluded, she wasn’t ignorant of the outside world.
Wan Canglan replied, “It’s a scheme by the Blade God Realm, specifically Shang Zihu and Michael from the Paradise Realm, plotting to ruin his path.”
“The Red Dust Assembly hasn’t started, yet the Paradise Realm faction’s suppression grows fiercer. I know I shouldn’t disturb your seclusion, but the situation is dire. It’s time for the Nine Heavenly Maidens to unite again.”
Nalan Danqing asked, “Shang Zihu and Michael vanished for five hundred years and have now emerged. What realms are they in?”
