Chapter Eighty-Five: The Manifestation of Heaven and Earth

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A violent surge of energy exploded outward from the very center, rippling in all directions.

The earlier conversation between those two men had resounded throughout the entire Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect. Xu Yan, who knew far more than the rest of the sect, felt as though he had fallen into an icy abyss.

The domineering sect master Zhong Shenluo, and that reclusive yet renowned middle-aged man—though they had always maintained a superficial peace, had long since grown weary of each other.

Even though Xu Yan had foreseen this scene long ago, when it truly happened, a chill still swept over his whole body in an instant.

One was the master of a great sect, the other a reclusive cultivator of unfathomable depth within the sect. If the two truly fought, regardless of who won, the entire Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect would suffer an irreparable blow.

Had they not come to this secluded Fallen Immortal Peak, they might have been killed outright by the shockwaves alone.

After a brief silence, an even more violent surge of spiritual energy swept through than before.

A fierce wind filled with countless shards of stone howled as thunderous explosions echoed from afar—like war drums, like spring rain falling to earth, urgent and dense.

Lu Caiwei asked in confusion, “What’s happening?”

“Immortals are fighting,” Shen Yu replied, standing atop the peak with hands behind her back, gazing into the distance.

Lu Caiwei strained her eyes to follow Shen Yu’s gaze, but no matter how hard she tried, all she could see were the ever-shifting patterns of spiritual energy in the sky.

Countless clouds rolled above, rippling outward like waves upon water. The occasional flashes of light were what Shen Yu called, “immortals fighting.”

Lu Caiwei sounded a little discouraged. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re just a child—how could you understand? Battles between cultivators of the Upper Three Realms are always shrouded in mystery, profound and unfathomable. If you want something truly spectacular, it’s when sword cultivators and martial artists clash—that’s when the waves rise and the heavens shake.”

A hoarse, aged voice suddenly broke in by their ears.

Then, a gaunt old man appeared out of thin air at the peak, holding a long banner—one side inscribed with “Divination and Fortune Telling,” the reverse with “Dispel Calamity and Resolve Difficulties.”

The bearded old man squatted on a small stone, planted his banner on the ground, and waved his hand toward the distant scene, commenting, “Besides, these two have walked far on the path of the Upper Three Realms. One is at the Tribulation Crossing stage, the other—tsk, tsk—covered with the aura of virtue, clearly having achieved the ‘Establish Virtue’ of the Confucian Three Establishments. With such power, even the top few on the Soaring Clouds List—those newly ascended to the Third Realm—are far from their equal.”

Lu Caiwei looked utterly lost.

Shen Yu, however, remained calm.

With the sect’s guardian spirit monkey at the base of the peak, the fact that this enigmatic man could appear here unnoticed proved his abilities.

He, too, was a cultivator above the Upper Three Realms.

“I did indeed come for you this time,” the old man said sincerely, “but now is not the time for talk. Let’s discuss things in detail once this is over. Agreed?”

Shen Yu gave a slight nod.

Lu Caiwei was not surprised by this exchange. She had seen too many strange things along their journey, and besides, she could discern nothing unusual about the old man before her.

“Just now, I hadn’t noticed. What an extraordinary seedling,” the old man suddenly turned, grinning at Lu Caiwei. “I am Liu Shouyi of Kunlun. In all my years, I’ve never taken a disciple. Would you be willing to become my apprentice?”

“Kunlun?” Lu Caiwei was stunned, instinctively glancing at Shen Yu.

She had just refused the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect’s offer, and now, first the Sacred Pool, then Kunlun among the Nine Holy Lands had come seeking her—as if in a dream.

Shen Yu seemed not to hear, offering no reply.

...

On the distant battlefield.

Once again, a shockingly powerful collision erupted, shaking even the ground below.

Above the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect’s ancestral hall, two beams of light—one azure, one violet—clashed fiercely, scattering dazzling sparks.

The once grand structure was instantly reduced to ruins by these bursts of light, the surroundings left in utter chaos.

The sudden outbreak of battle bewildered all, yet left everyone shaken to the core.

Jiang Zhouyao’s azure Confucian robe was tattered, parts of his skin exposed, leaving him looking somewhat battered.

In contrast, his opponent appeared much better off—composed and imposing.

Zhong Shenluo, sect master of the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect, truly looked every inch the leader.

With cold disdain, Zhong Shenluo said, “For the sake of a promising disciple, you would go so far as to betray your own path? Are all Confucians so foolish?”

Jiang Zhouyao smiled. “You cannot comprehend my Dao. The Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect is not yours to command. And as for the Confucian sages… should that master at the academy learn of this, I fear your path would reach its end.”

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Zhong Shenluo’s expression changed slightly at these words, realizing he had misspoken. After a moment, he continued, “Even if you’ve reached the Sage Realm, you still possess only paltry skills. How could you possibly be my match?”

“Since you still call me Sect Master, you should understand that at this moment, the advantage is mine.”

With a sneer in his eye, Zhong Shenluo spat, “You have no chance of winning.”

Violet light flared, blazing like the sun, suppressing the azure glow until it nearly faded to nothing.

“In this world, there are always variables,” Jiang Zhouyao replied, pale-faced, but only shook his head and smiled. “And I have seen a glimmer of that change.”

After his breakthrough, in that dim study he had rehearsed this battle countless times over the years.

On the black-and-white chessboard, he had played out countless outcomes.

No matter how he tried, shifting the pieces, he was always one move short.

But that move was not decided by his opponent, nor by spiritual might, but by Yunqing—and the guardian beast, ever seeking the Buddha.

Until Shen Yu appeared, it seemed those two questions finally had answers.

As for the likes of Ximen Guan, they were but larger ants.

For Yunqing—or, more truthfully, for the green-garbed woman he had waited a hundred years for in a dream—this battle, mysterious to outsiders, was something he had long awaited.

“Perhaps I am no fighter, but with this one variable…” Jiang Zhouyao extended his right hand, and said solemnly, “I have awaited it for centuries. Let it all end today.”

A captivating scarlet light flickered at his fingertip, like a flame in the wind, threatening to vanish at any moment.

“Haha… Then let’s end it!” Zhong Shenluo laughed, then stomped his right foot upon the ground.

The earth shook and split.

A majestic, overwhelming aura burst forth from his body. Night winds howled, and countless violet beams merged into a river of spiritual energy, surging toward the scholar.

This was the supreme technique passed down through countless generations of the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect.

The spirit river thundered from the sky, obliterating everything it touched—buildings, rubble, severed limbs, fallen leaves—all vanished in an instant.

It was a scene of awe-inspiring, world-shaking might.

The crimson light at Jiang Zhouyao’s fingertip stabilized, then began to burn like a tiny flame.

If Shen Yu had seen, she would have recognized it as identical to the technique Yunqing had used earlier.

“Go,” the scholar murmured.

That faint red light scattered into countless points, drifting through the air like dust motes.

In the next instant, the river of spiritual energy collided with those myriad sparkles.

There was no earth-shaking shock, no cataclysmic change. The red motes simply dissolved the dazzling river of spiritual power.

All was calm.

Both men looked down.

The dust beneath their feet had vanished entirely, replaced by a shadowy, bottomless chasm.

A chilling, annihilating aura surged from the depths.

Sensing this breath of extinction, Zhong Shenluo’s expression grew grave. “If we do not stop now, we will soon trigger the collapse of the Heavenly Dao’s order, and all will be reduced to nothing.”

Jiang Zhouyao smiled gently, as if unconcerned.

“You wish to perish with me? I will not grant your wish.” With that, Zhong Shenluo flew backward, drifting away.

Only after they had separated by several hundred yards did Zhong Shenluo land, raising his right hand to the sky and his left to the ground.

Jiang Zhouyao watched indifferently, even a little nonchalant.

This scholar, who had never fought before, coughed lightly. The night air was cold, and his torn robe made him shiver.

He lifted his gaze to the heavens.

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From the countless peaks of the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect, beams of light pierced the dark night sky like shooting stars, converging above the two men in a dazzling display.

Zhong Shenluo rotated his hands, forming new seals, and intoned, “Manifest, Dharma Body of Heaven and Earth!”

In the sky, clouds and winds gathered.

Suddenly, a celestial figure appeared, exuding a terrifying, cutting aura.

Like a temporary true immortal, the colossal figure sat cross-legged, brows snowy white, eyes closed, three spirit flowers spinning above its head, five auras swirling about it.

It was like a sage descended.

With an icy expression, Zhong Shenluo declared, “Immortal, please eliminate the demon.”

...

Everyone in the Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect who raised their heads to watch this scene was left utterly speechless.

Atop Fallen Immortal Peak.

Shen Yu remained unmoved.

Old Liu Shouyi of Kunlun sat cross-legged in a corner, chuckling strangely. “Relying on the sect’s mountain-guarding array to conjure such a half-baked thing—if the true immortal, whose image this is, ever found out, he’d slap this fool into dust across worlds.”

He paused, muttering to himself, “Still, for his level, it’s an interesting move. That little scholar may be in danger.”

Yet Lu Caiwei was unexpectedly calm. She watched the celestial apparition in the sky, somehow finding it odd.

The slovenly old Daoist grew restless and asked, “Who do you think will win?”

Shen Yu replied with what Lu Caiwei thought an obvious answer: “The one meant to win will win.”

The old Daoist pondered seriously, then burst into laughter. “Well said… well said.”

...

In a quiet pavilion.

A green-robed woman sat peacefully on the balcony, leafing through scattered pages.

All the spiritual fluctuations outside had been blocked by invisible barriers around the pavilion.

It seemed this was the only calm place in the entire Cloud-Returning Immortal Sect.

Yunqing read through the last page, which seemed misplaced—a few scattered notes, written casually.

“To summon the bright moon for one night, to fill my cup with snow; drunk, I have not yet swallowed the sea, but my sword energy already crosses autumn.”

“We scholars speak of principles, discuss propriety, yet remain unrestrained within the bounds.”

“With a trace of righteous spirit, I welcome the joyful wind from a thousand miles.”

Gazing over these lines, Yunqing saw that as time passed, the script grew more careless—no longer neat, as if, after seeing through something, the writer had become more free and unrestrained.

At last, she saw the final lines, the ink still fresh, as if just written.

“All scholars are sentimental and verbose—some things are right, some not. You’ve seen it, and that’s enough.”

Yunqing smiled softly and looked down.

“After years of study, sages say that reading brings understanding, but I find great principles tiresome—especially when you care for someone.”

“In such moments, rules and doctrines are useless. Even if the Dao Ancestor or Buddha stood before me, I’d still fight first and talk later.”

...

Under the oppressive might of heaven and earth, the gentle scholar stood at the center.

Jiang Zhouyao faced the infinite pressure, smiling serenely. With a wave of his sleeve, he commanded, “Break!”

Heaven and earth blazed with light.

The scholar’s wide sleeves billowed, and behind him a towering phantom rose.

In an instant, the celestial figure dissolved into dust.