Chapter Five: The Contest

A year passed in the blink of an eye.

Even the least gifted disciples of Emerald Bamboo Peak had reached the fifth level of Qi Refinement, while Shang Yingluo had astonished everyone by achieving the ninth level, just a step away from entering the Path-Seeking Realm. Soon, she would be able to ascend the Dividing Treasure Cliff to claim her life-bound artifact and become a true disciple of the Daoist Sect. It was said that the renowned female sword immortal from the Daoist Sect had crossed from the Qi Refinement Realm to the Path-Seeking Realm in just a single year.

No one doubted Shang Yingluo's success, just as no one believed Shen Yu could ever set foot on Dividing Treasure Cliff.

Within this year, most had come to know the name of Shen Yu, an entry-level disciple of Emerald Bamboo Peak, who was still lingering at the first level of Qi Refinement.

While everyone strove to ascend Dividing Treasure Cliff in pursuit of their life-bound artifacts, an exhilarating announcement arrived—the entry competition was about to begin.

This generation, the Daoist Sect had recruited over a hundred new disciples. Some were assigned to Emerald Bamboo Peak, the rest to Misty Cloud Peak under the guidance of another third-generation disciple, Li Hanyue.

The entry competition was a tradition stretching back centuries. After a year of cultivation, each peak—Emerald Bamboo and Misty Cloud—would select several of their most advanced disciples for friendly bouts.

At every contest, elders from the Golden Core Realm of the Four Halls and Seven Peaks would attend, observing the participants’ temperament, talent, and those disciples they already favored.

In front of the Hall of Law Manifestation, one of the Four Halls of the Daoist Sect—

Master Mingjian, garbed in azure robes, walked ahead with his hands behind his back, followed by a group of exceptional young disciples.

"What right does he have to compete? At only the first level of Qi Refinement, he'll be beaten so badly by the Misty Cloud Peak disciples he won't be able to get up. He'll shame not only himself but all of us as well." A sharp, venomous voice rang out from the crowd.

The speaker, Jiang Shaoqiu, was one of the few disciples on Emerald Bamboo Peak with an Earth-Grade Dao Body. Over the past year, his cultivation speed was second only to Shang Yingluo, and he often styled himself as the senior brother of the peak.

At his words, all eyes turned to the delicate-looking youth at the back of the crowd.

Jiang Shaoqiu was not wrong: among the disciples present, the weakest was at the fifth level of Qi Refinement—only Shen Yu remained at the first. Wasn't his presence here an invitation for ridicule?

Mingjian heard these words but his expression did not change.

Shen Yu, lazy and solitary, had volunteered to participate, which surprised Mingjian, but he did not refuse. Perhaps such a contest could ignite the youth’s fighting spirit; after all, to waste a prodigy with a clear Dao-heart and an Earth-Grade Dao Body would be a real pity.

Shen Yu walked alone at the rear, ignoring the looks cast his way, his gaze instead drifting over the sea of clouds and mountains, perfectly at ease.

The Hall of Law Manifestation, one of the Four Halls of the Daoist Sect, stood grandly atop the mountain. Only a few eaves and rooftops could be glimpsed through the mist.

In front of the hall stretched a vast plaza, so wide its end could not be seen.

As the group arrived, a man approached, all smiles and cordiality.

"Mingjian, it’s been a long time."

He too wore a long azure robe, like Mingjian, but in his hand was a jade flute of deep green.

Mingjian’s expression remained indifferent. "Hanyue, it has been a while."

Both were third-generation disciples and mentors to this batch of initiates, so a certain rivalry was inevitable.

Li Hanyue smiled. "Today, each of our peaks will send forth ten disciples. When all of one side are defeated, the competition will end. What do you say?"

Mingjian glanced at the already prepared platform. "Agreed."

As their mentors vied, so too did the disciples below, each sizing up the other, eager for the contest, even against their own sect brothers.

Youth, after all, is headstrong.

At last, a disciple of Emerald Bamboo Peak stepped onto the platform.

Jiang Shaoqiu, affecting a mature air, saluted the crowd and declared in a clear voice, "Jiang Shaoqiu, entry-level disciple of Emerald Bamboo Peak. Who will face me first?"

"Already at the eighth level of Qi Refinement. He truly deserves to go first—what talent!"

Li Hanyue, watching, smiled slightly and asked, "Where is that legendary little junior sister of impressive talent?"

Once Shang Yingluo entered the Path-Seeking Realm, she would surely be accepted as a true disciple by one of the hall masters, making her their peer in status. To call her little junior sister was not amiss.

Mingjian, not wishing to elaborate, replied blandly, "She is in seclusion, seeking the Path."

"Tsk, as expected of a legend. That kind of talent is enough to make anyone envious."

Li Hanyue sighed with admiration, then added, "I’ve also heard of a disciple named Shen Yu, with an Earth-Grade Dao Body, yet after a year, still at the first level of Qi Refinement. Brother, your teaching methods must truly be extraordinary! Hahaha."

Mingjian’s face darkened, and he said nothing.

Over the past year, Shen Yu had become something of an oddity among the Daoist Sect disciples—a subject of ridicule. Possessing such a body yet choosing leisure over cultivation, wandering the mountains and streams, some naturally questioned Mingjian’s guidance.

Suppressing his anger, Mingjian turned to look behind, scanning the crowd with some resignation.

The boy had disappeared again.

...

Shen Yu had left the group early and wandered alone down a secluded mountain path. Accustomed to solitude, no one noticed his absence.

The Daoist Sect housed four great halls: Crossing Truth, Law Manifestation, Profound Sage, and Pure Principle.

Behind the Hall of Law Manifestation, there was a path skirting the abyss, known as the Path of Self-Inquiry—one of the three great wonders of the sect.

This was the reason Shen Yu had come today.

The forest was dense, the winding path quiet and deep.

Emerging from the trees, Shen Yu found a vast stone platform jutting over the precipice, with a simple wooden house not far away.

At the edge stood a stone bridge, only wide enough for one, linking to a precipitous peak adrift in the sea of clouds.

The air was thick with spiritual energy, the wind biting cold.

It was Shen Yu’s first visit, and though he knew nothing of the marvel, his clear Dao-heart allowed him to sense the aura even before reaching the rear mountain.

Wherever spiritual energy gathered, he could feel it from afar.

Without hesitation, Shen Yu advanced. Suddenly, his sword-like brows twitched; he turned his head.

On the bamboo chair of the second-floor balcony of the wooden house lay an old man, hair and beard as white as snow.

Shen Yu was surprised; one would normally have noticed such a presence from afar, yet only upon drawing near did he become aware—clearly, the old man was unfathomable.

The elder, eyes closed, lightly traced his hand through the air, humming a tune, utterly indifferent to the youth.

Shen Yu withdrew his gaze and continued toward the stone bridge.

The spiritual energy on the bridge was turbulent, the fierce wind nearly forcing one’s eyes shut; below, the abyss yawned, a single misstep meaning certain death.

Most would not dare such a crossing, but Shen Yu stepped onto the bridge without a second thought.

He walked into the wind, sleeves billowing, the biting gusts unable to impede him. The erratic currents of spiritual energy hidden in the white clouds struck his azure robe, producing crystalline notes like clashing metal.

Above, the old man’s murky eyes opened a fraction, a trace of emotion flickering within.

Before long, Shen Yu crossed to the lone peak suspended in the cloud sea.

Standing at the summit, he gazed into the mist, countless ephemeral lines of spiritual energy weaving through the sky—sometimes colliding, sometimes scattering apart—forming a dreamlike celestial tableau.

Yet Shen Yu felt only the immense power pulsing within those threads; even a masterful cultivator, if touched by the faintest trace, would be annihilated in an instant.

"Not bad," Shen Yu murmured, nodding slightly—neither satisfied nor dissatisfied—then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

Over the past days, spiritual energy had been accumulating within him, yet still fell short of the critical threshold; his progress was too slow.

What he needed was richer, even more tempestuous energy—like the spiritual treasure aura hidden in the rear mountain of the Hall of Law Manifestation.

With each breath, a current of silvery-white spiritual treasure aura entered his spirit sea and dantian—one, two, three in succession.

For nine breaths, Shen Yu inhaled nine times, drawing nine streams of spiritual treasure energy into himself.

After nine breaths—

The chirping of cranes and insects in the rear mountain ceased; even the rolling treasure aura in the sea of clouds grew suddenly quiet.

The abrupt stillness descended without warning, as if something vast and silent lay beneath it.

From afar, the old man on the bamboo chair uttered a soft "Oh?" and looked to the clouds, astonished.

Suddenly, the spiritual energy around Shen Yu surged, then collapsed inwards like a black hole, vanishing into his body.

The delicate youth opened his eyes, his presence subtly changed, though perhaps unchanged, and turned to leave.

"What is your name?"

Back at the stone platform, Shen Yu heard the old man’s question.

"Shen Yu."

The rear mountain of the Hall of Law Manifestation was a restricted area. If the elder did not wish him to leave, things could become troublesome; thus, Shen Yu spoke his name.

"Shen Yu of Emerald Bamboo Peak?"

"Yes."

"Heh, it seems the rumors are false. The outside world misunderstands you. Not bad—would you consider joining my Hall of Law Manifestation?"

"And you are?"

"Dao Xuan."

"The Hall Master Dao Xuan of Law Manifestation?"

"Indeed."

Shen Yu understood and nodded; the old man’s presence here confirmed it.

"I’ll think about it."

Dao Xuan smiled and waved him off, unbothered by the youth’s bluntness.

"That little sword-girl once gazed at these clouds from here. Outsiders say she took a year, not realizing she spent that year at play. When she truly set her mind to break through, it took her only nine days—one realm per day—on the ninth, she entered the Path-Seeking Realm."

Watching the youth in azure depart, Dao Xuan murmured in disbelief, "And this boy… Above the sea of clouds, nine breaths for nine realms, nearly stepping into the Path in a single leap. Such an astonishing breakthrough—could it be that, after decades, our Daoist Sect is about to witness the rise of a true immortal once more?"